The Works of John Bunyan - Volume 3

000 Title Page














001 Memoir of John Bunyan




`We have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us.'-2Co 4:7

`For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.'—Isa 55:8.

`Though ye have lien among the pots, yet shall ye be as the wings of a dove covered with silver, and her feathers with yellow gold.'—Ps 68:13.

When the Philistine giant, Goliath, mocked the host of Israel, and challenged any of their stern warriors to single combat, what human being could have imagined that the gigantic heathen would be successfully met in the mortal struggle by a youth 'ruddy and of a fair countenance?' who unarmed, except with a sling and a stone, gave the carcases of the hosts of the Philistines to the fouls of the air, and to the wild beasts of the earth.'

Who, upon seeing an infant born in a stable, and laid in a manger, or beholding him when a youth working with his father as a carpenter, could have conceived that he was the manifestation of the Deity in human form, before whom every knee should bow, and every tongue confess Him to be THE ETERNAL?

Father Michael, a Franciscan friar, on a journey to Ancona, having lost his way, sought direction from a wretched lad keeping hogs— deserted, forlorn, his back smarting with severe stripes, and his eyes suffused with tears. The poor ragged boy not only went cheerfully with him to point out his road, but besought the monk to take him into his convent, volunteering to fulfill the most degrading services, in the hope of procuring a little learning, and escaping from 'those filthy hogs.' How incredulously would the friar have listened to anyone who could have suggested that this desolate, tattered, dirty boy, might and would fill a greater than an imperial throne! Yet, eventually that swine herd was clothed in purple and fine linen, and, under the title of Pope Sixtus V., became one of those mighty magicians who are described in Rogers Italy, as

`Setting their feet upon the necks of kings,
And through the worlds subduing, chaining down
The free, immortal spirit—theirs a wondrous spell.'1

1 For a most interesting account of the rise of Sixtus V, see the new volume of the Lounger's Commonplace Book, 1807, p. 152.

A woman that was 'a loose and ungodly wretch' hearing a tinker lad most awfully cursing and swearing, protested to him that 'he swore and cursed at that most fearful rate that it made her tremble to hear him,' that he was the ungodliest fellow for swearing that ever she heard in all her life,' and 'that he was able to spoil all the youth in a whole town, if they came in his company.' This blow at the young reprobate made that indelible impression which all the sermons yet he had heard had failed to make. Satan, by one of his own slaves, wounded a conscience which had resisted all the overtures of mercy. The youth pondered her words in his heart; they were good seed strangely sown, and their working formed one of those mysterious steps which led the foulmouthed blasphemer to bitter repentance; who, when he had received mercy and pardon, felt impelled to bless and magnify the Divine grace with shining, burning thoughts and words. The poor profligate, swearing tinker became transformed into the most ardent preacher of the love of Christ—the well-trained author of The Jerusalem Sinner Saved, or Good News to the Vilest of Men.

How often have the Saints of God been made a most unexpected blessing to others. The good seed of Divine truth has been many times sown by those who did not go out to sow, but who were profitably engaged in cultivating their own graces, enjoying the communion of Saints, and advancing their own personal happiness! Think of a few poor, but pious happy women, sitting in the sun one beautiful summer's day, before one of their cottages, probably each one with her pillow on her lap, dexterously twisting the bobbins to make lace, the profits of which helped to maintain their children. While they are communing on the things of God, a traveling tinker draws near, and, over-hearing their talk, takes up a position where he might listen to their converse while he pursued his avocation. Their words distil into his soul; they speak the language of Canaan; they talk of holy enjoyments, the result of being born again, acknowledging their miserable state by nature, and how freely and undeservedly God had visited their hearts with pardoning mercy, and supported them while suffering the assaults and suggestions of Satan; how they had been borne up in every dark, cloudy, stormy day; and how they contemned, slighted, and abhorred their own righteousness as filthy and insufficient to do them any good. The learned discourses our tinker had heard at church had casually passed over his mind like evanescent clouds, and left little or no lasting impression. But these poor women, `methought they spake as actually did make them speak; they speak with such pleasant as of Scripture language, and with such appearance of grace in all they said, that they were to me as if they had found a new world, as if they were people that dwelt alone, and were not to be reckoned among their neighbors' (Nu 23:9).

0! how little did they imagine that their pious converse was to be the means employed by the Holy Spirit in the conversion of that poor tinker, and that, by their agency, he was to be transformed into one of the brightest luminaries of heaven; who, when he had entered into rest would leave his works to follow him as spiritual thunder to pierce the hearts of the impenitent, and as heavenly consolation to bind up the broken-hearted; liberating the prisoners of Giant Despair, and directing the pilgrims to the Celestial City. Thus were blessings in rich abundance showered down upon the church by the instrumentality, in the first instance, of a woman that was a sinner, but most eminently by the Christian converse of a few poor but pious women.

This poverty-stricken, ragged tinker was the son of a working mechanic at Elstow, near Bedford. So obscure was his origin that even the Christian name of his father is yet unknown:2 he was born in 1628, a year memorable as that in which the Bill of Rights was passed. Then began the struggle against arbitrary power, which was overthrown in 1688, the year of Bunyan's death, by the accession of William III. Of Bunyan's parents, his infancy, and childhood, little is recorded. All that we know is from his own account, and that principally contained in his doctrine of the Law and Grace, and in his extraordinary development of his spiritual life, under the title of Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners. His birth would have shed a luster on the wealthiest mansion, and have imparted additional grandeur to any lordly palace. Had royal or noble gossips, and a splendid entertainment attended his christening, it might have been pointed to with pride; but so obscure was his birth, that it has not been discovered that he was christened at all; while the fact of his new birth by the Holy Ghost is known over the whole world to the vast extent that his writings have been circulated. He entered this world in a labourer's cottage of the humblest class, at the village of Elstow, about a mile from Bedford.3 His pedigree is thus narrated by himself:—'My descent was of a low and inconsiderable generation, my father's house being of that rank that is meanest and most despised of all the families in the land.4 Bunyan alludes to this very pointedly in the preface to A Few Sighs from Hell:—'I am thine, if thou be not ashamed to own me, because of my low and contemptible descent in the world.5 His poor and abject parentage was so notorious, that his pastor, John Burton, apologized for it in his recommendation to The Gospel Truths Opened:—'Be not offended because Christ holds forth the glorious treasure of the gospel to thee in a poor earthen vessel, by one who hath neither the greatness nor the wisdom of this world to commend him to thee.'6 And in his most admirable treatise, on The Fear of God, Bunyan observes—'The poor Christian hath something to answer them that reproach him for his ignoble pedigree, and shortness of the glory of the wisdom of this world. True may that man say I am taken out of the dunghill. I was born in a base and low estate; but I fear God. This is the highest and most noble; he hath the honour, the life, and glory that is lasting.'7 In his controversy with the Strict Baptists, he chides them for reviling his ignoble pedigree:—'You closely disdain my person because of my low descent among men, stigmatizing me as a person of THAT rank that need not be heeded or attended unto.'8 He inquired of his father—'Whether we were of the Israelites or no? for, finding in the Scripture that they were once the peculiar people of God, thought I, if I were one of this race, my soul must needs be happy.'9 This somewhat justifies the conclusion that his father was a Gipsy tinker, that occupation being then followed by the Gipsy tribe. In the life of Bunyan appended to the forged third part of the Pilgrim's Progress, his father is described as 'an honest poor labouring man, who, like Adam unparadise10d, had all the world before him to get his bread in; and was very careful and industrious to maintain his family.'11

2 The Rev. J. H. A. Rudd, the Vicar of Elstow, has most kindly furnished me with an extract from the registers of all the entries relative to Bunyan's family. The register commences in 1641, and has been searched to 1750. It confirms the Rev. J. Juke's impression, that soon after Bunyan joined Gifford's church he left Elstow to live in Bedford.

Thomas Bonion, buried, Dec. 9, 1641.
Margaret Bonion, wife, buried, June 20, 1644. Margaret Bonion, b., July 24, 1644.
Charles, the son of Thos. Bunion, bapt., May 22, 1645.
Charles Bunion, bur., May 30, 1645.
Mary, the daught. of Joh. Bonion, bapt., July 20, 1650
Elizabeth, the daughter of John Bonyon, was born 14th day of April, 1654.
Thomas ? Bonion of the town of Bedford, and Elizabeth _____ of the parish of Elstow, were married, May 10, 1656. (The Christian name of the husband, and the surname of the wife, are very much obliterated.)
Ann Bonyonn, Widdo, was buried, 12th day of April, 1659.
Thos. Bunyan, buried, Feby. 7th, 1675.
Ann Bunyon, Widdo, buried in Woolen, September 25, 1680.
The marriage here recorded, May 10, 1656, could not be that of John Bunyan to his second wife Elizabeth; for she declared to Judge Hale in August, 1661, that she had 'not been married to him yet full two years.'—Vol. i. 61.

3 This cottage has long ceased to exist, and has been replaced by another of the poorest description. But from an old print we have given in the Plate, p. 1, vol. i., a representation of the original, with the shed at side often mentioned as 'The forge'; thus leading us to believe, that to the 'tinker's' humble calling might be united that of the 'smith,' a more manly and honourable trade.

4 Grace Abounding, No. 2.

5 Vol. iii., p. 674.

6 Vol. ii., p. 140.

7 Vol. i., p. 490.

8 Vol. ii., p. 617.

9 Grace Abounding, No. 18.

10 Extracted from the first edition in the British Museum. It was much altered in the subsequent impressions.

11 In 1566, Sir Thomas Harper, Lord Mayor of London, gave £180 for thirteen acres and a rood of meadow land in Holborn. This was settled, in trust, to promote the education of the poor in and round Bedford. In 1668, it produced a yearly revenue of £99—a considerable sum in that day, but not in any proportion to the present rental, which amounts to upwards of £12,000 a-year.

Happily for Bunyan, he was born in a neighbourhood in which it was a disgrace to any parents not to have their children educated. With gratitude he records, that 'it pleased God to put it into their hearts to put me to school to learn both to read and to write.' In the neighbourhood of his birthplace, a noble charity diffused the blessings of lettered knowledge.12 To this charity Bunyan was for a short period indebted for the rudiments of education; but, alas, evil associates made awful havoc of those slight unshapen literary impressions which had been made upon a mind boisterous and impatient of discipline. He says—'To my shame, I confess I did soon lose that little I learned, and that almost utterly.' This fact will recur to the reader's recollection when he peruses Israel's Hope Encouraged, in which, speaking of the all-important doctrine of justification, he says—'It is with many that begin with this doctrine as it is with boys that go to the Latin school; they learn till they have learned the grounds of their grammar, and then go home and forget all.'13

12 Grace Abounding, No. 3.

13 Vol. i., p. 618.

As soon as his strength enabled him, he devoted his whole soul and body to licentiousness—'As for my own natural life, for the time that I was without God in the world, it was indeed according to the course of this world, and the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience. It was my delight to be taken captive by the devil at his will: being filled with all unrighteousness; that from a child I had but few equals, both for cursing, swearing, lying, and blaspheming the holy name of God.'14

14 Grace Abounding, No. 4.

It has been supposed, that in delineating the early career of Badman, 'Bunyan drew the picture of his own boyhood.' But the difference15 is broadly given. Badman is the child of pious parents, who gave him a 'good education' in every sense, both moral and secular;16 the very reverse of Bunyan's training. His associates would enable him to draw the awful character and conduct of Badman, as a terrible example to deter others from the downward road to misery and perdition.

15 Philip's Life of Bunyan, p. 4.

16 Vol. iii., p. 597.

Bunyan's parents do not appear to have checked, or attempted to counteract, his unbridled career of wickedness. He gives no hint of the kind; but when he notices his wife's father, he adds that he 'was counted godly'; and in his beautiful nonsectarian catechism, there is a very touching conclusion to his instructions to children on their behaviour to their parents:—'The Lord, if it be his will, convert our poor parents, that they, with us, may be the children of God.' These fervent expressions may refer to his own parents; and, connecting them with other evidence, it appears that he was not blessed with pious example. Upon one occasion, when severely reproved for swearing, he says—'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 swearing.'17 In his numerous18 confessions, he never expresses pain at having, by his vicious conduct, occasioned grief to his father or mother. From this it may be inferred, that neither his father's example nor precept had checked this wretched propensity to swearing, and that he owed nothing to his parents for moral training; but, on the contrary, they had connived at, and encouraged him in, a course of life which made him a curse to the neighbourhood in which he lived.

17 Vol. ii., p. 564.

18 Grace Abounding, No. 27.

In the midst of all this violent depravity, the Holy Spirit began the work of regeneration in his soul—a long, a solemn, yea, an awful work—which was to fit this poor debauched youth for purity of conduct—for communion with heaven—for wondrous usefulness as a minister of the gospel—for patient endurance of sufferings for righteousness' sake—for the writing of works which promise to be a blessing to the Church in all ages—for his support during his passage through the black river which has no bridge—to shine all bright and glorious, as a star in the firmament of heaven. `Wonders of grace to God belong.'

During the period of his open profligacy, his conscience was ill at ease; at times the clanking of Satan's slavish chains in which he was hurrying to destruction, distracted him. The stern reality of a future state clouded and embittered many of those moments employed in gratifying his baser passions. The face of the eventful times in which he lived was rapidly changing; the trammels were loosened, which, with atrocious penalties, had fettered all free inquiry into religious truth. Puritanism began to walk upright; and as the restraints imposed upon Divine truths were taken off, in the same proportion restraints were imposed upon impiety, profaneness, and debauchery. A ringleader in all wickedness would not long continue without reproof, either personally, or as seen in the holy conduct of others. Bunyan very properly attributed to a gracious God, those checks of conscience which he so strongly felt even while he was apparently dead in trespasses and sins. 'The Lord, even in my childhood, did scare and affright me with fearful dreams, and did terrify me with dreadful visions.'19 'I often wished that there had been no hell, or that I had been a devil to torment others.' A common childish but demoniac idea. His mind was as 'the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt.' A while after, these terrible dreams did leave me; and with more greediness, according to the strength of nature, I did let loose the reins of my lusts, and delighted in all transgression against the law of God.' I was the very ringleader of all the youth that kept me company, into ALL MANNER of vice and ungodliness.'20

19 Grace Abounding, No. 5.

20 Ibid., No. 8.

Dr. Southey and others have attempted to whiten this blackamore, but the veil that they throw over him is so transparent that it cannot deceive those who are in the least degree spiritually enlightened. He alleges that Bunyan, in his mad career of vice and folly, 'was never so given over to a reprobate mind,21 as to be wholly free from compunctions of conscience. This is the case with every depraved character; but he goes further, when he asserts that

21 Life, p. vii.

`Bunyan's heart never was hardened.'22 This is directly opposed to his description of himself:— 'I found within me a great desire to take my fill of sin, still studying what sin was yet to be committed; and I made as much haste as I could to fill my belly with its delicates, lest I should die before I had my desire.' He thus solemnly adds, 'In these things, I protest before God, I lie not, neither do I feign this sort of speech; these were really, strongly, and with all my heart, my desires; the good Lord, whose mercy is unsearchable, forgive me my transgressions.' The whole of his career, from childhood to manhood, was, 'According to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience' (Eph 2:2).

22 Ibid. p. viii.

These reminiscences are alluded to in the prologue of the Holy War:—

`When Mansoul trampled upon things Divine,
And wallowed in filth as doth a swine,
Then I was there, and did rejoice to see
Diabolus and Mansoul so agree.'

The Laureate had read this, and yet considers it the language of a heart that 'never was hardened.' He says that 'the wickedness of the tinker has been greatly overcharged, and it is taking the language of self-accusation too literally to pronounce of John Bunyan, that he was at any time depraved. The worst of what he was in his worst days is to be expressed in a single word, the full meaning of which no circumlocution can convey; and which, though it may hardly be deemed presentable in serious composition, I shall use, as Bunyan himself (no mealy-mouthed writer) would have used it, had it in his days borne the same acceptation in which it is now universally understood;—in that word then, he had been a blackguard.

The very head and front of his offending
Hath this extent—no more.'23

23 Life, pp. xli., xlii.

The meaning of the epithet is admirably explained; but what could Dr. Southey imagine possible to render such a character more vile in the sight of God, or a greater pest to society? Is there any vicious propensity, the gratification of which is not included in that character? Bunyan's estimate of his immorality and profaneness prior to his conversion, was not made by comparing himself with the infinitely Holy One, but he measured his conduct by that of his more moral neighbours. In his Jerusalem Sinner Saved, he pleads with great sinners, the outwardly and violently profane and vicious, that if HE had received mercy, and had become regenerated, they surely ought not to despair, but to seek earnestly for the same grace. He thus describes himself:—'I speak by experience; I was one of those great sin-breeders; I infected all the youth of the town where I was born; the neighbours counted me so, my practice proved me so: wherefore, Christ Jesus took me first; and, taking me first, the contagion was much allayed all the town over. When God made me sigh, they would hearken, and inquiringly say, What's the matter with John? When I went out to seek the bread of life, some of them would follow, and the rest be put into a muse at home. Some of them, perceiving that God had mercy upon me, came crying to him for mercy too.'24 Can any one, in the face of such language, doubt that he was most eminently 'a brand snatched from the fire'; a pitchy burning brand, known and seen as such by all who witnessed his conduct? He pointedly exemplified the character set forth by James, 'the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity, set on fire of hell' (Jas 3:6). This was as publicly known before his conversion, as the effects of the wondrous change were openly seen in his Christian career afterwards. He who, when convinced of sin, strained his eyes to see the distant shining light over the wicket-gate, after he had gazed upon

—'The wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,'

became a luminous beacon, to attract the vilest characters to seek newness of life; and if there be hope for them, no one ought to despair. Far be it from us to cloud this light, or to tarnish so conspicuous an example. Like a Magdalene or a thief on the cross, his case may be exhibited to encourage hope in every returning prodigal. During this period of his childhood, while striving to harden his heart against God, many were the glimmerings of light which from time to time directed his unwilling eyes to a dread eternity. In the still hours of the night 'in a dream God opened' his ears25—the dreadful vision was that 'devils and wicked spirits laboured to draw me away with them.' These thoughts must have left a deep and alarming impression upon his mind; for he adds, 'of which I could never be rid.'26

24 Vol. i., p. 79.

25 Job 33:15.

26 Grace Abounding, No. 5, vol. i., p. 6.

The author of his life, published in 1692, who was one of his personal friends, gives the following account of Bunyan's profligacy, and his checks of conscience:—'He himself hath often, since his conversion, confessed with horror, that when he was but a child or stripling, he had but few equals for lying, swearing, and blaspheming God's holy name—living without God in the world; the thoughts of which, when he, by the light of Divine grace, came to understand his dangerous condition, drew many showers of tears from his sorrowful eyes, and sighs from his groaning heart. The first thing that sensibly touched him in this his unregenerate state, were fearful dreams, and visions of the night, which often made him cry out in his sleep, and alarm the house, as if somebody was about to murder him, and being waked, he would start, and stare about him with such a wildness, as if some real apparition had yet remained; and generally those dreams were about evil spirits, in monstrous shapes and forms, that presented themselves to him in threatening postures, as if they would have taken him away, or torn him in pieces. At some times they seemed to belch flame, at other times a continuous smoke, with horrible noises and roaring. Once he dreamed he saw the face of the heavens, as it were, all on fire; the firmament crackling and shivering with the noise of mighty thunders, and an archangel flew in the midst of heaven, sounding a trumpet, and a glorious throne was seated in the east, whereon sat one in brightness, like the morning star, upon which he, thinking it was the end of the world, fell upon his knees, and, with uplifted hands towards heaven, cried, 0 Lord God, have mercy upon me! What shall I do, the day of judgment is come, and I am not prepared! When immediately he heard a voice behind him, exceeding loud, saying, Repent. At another time he dreamed that he was in a pleasant place, jovial and rioting, banqueting and feasting his senses, when a mighty earthquake suddenly rent the earth, and made a wide gap, out of which came bloody flames, and the figures of men tossed up in globes of fire, and falling down again with horrible cries, shrieks, and execrations, whilst some devils that were mingled with them, laughed aloud at their torments; and whilst he stood trembling at this sight, he thought the earth sunk under him, and a circle of flame enclosed him; but when he fancied he was just at the point to perish, one in white shining raiment descended, and plucked him out of that dreadful place; whilst the devils cried after him, to leave him with them, to take the just punishment his sins had deserved, yet he escaped the danger, and leaped for joy when he awoke and found it was a dream.'

Such dreams as these fitted him in after life to be the glorious dreamer of the Pilgrim's Progress, in which a dream is told which doubtless embodies some of those which terrified him in the night visions of his youth.

In the interpreter's house he is 'led into a chamber where there was one rising out of bed, and as he put on his raiment he shook and trembled. Then said Christian, Why doth this man thus tremble? The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian the reason of his so doing. So he began and said, This night, as I was in my sleep I dreamed, and behold the heavens grew exceeding black; also it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony. So I looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual rate, upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a man sit upon a cloud, attended with the thousands of heaven—they were all in flaming fire; also the heavens were in a burning flame. I heard then a voice saying, "Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment;" and with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead that were therein came forth. Some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward; and some sought to hide themselves under the mountains. Then I saw the man that sat upon the cloud open the book, and bid the world draw near. Yet there was, by reason of a fierce flame which issued out and came from before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and them, as betwixt the judge and prisoners at the bar. I heard it also proclaimed, "Gather together the tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast them into the burning lake"; and with that the bottomless pit opened just whereabout I stood, out of the mouth of which there came, in an abundant manner, smoke and coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was also said, "Gather my wheat into the garner"; and with that I saw many catched up and carried away into the clouds, but I was left behind. I also sought to hide myself, but I could not, for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept his eye upon me; my sins also came into my mind, and my conscience did accuse me on every side. Upon that I awaked from my sleep.

No laboured composition could have produced such a dream as this. It flows in such dream-like order as would lead us to infer, that the author who narrates it had, when a boy, heard the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew read at church, and the solemn impression following him at night assisted in producing a dream which stands, and perhaps will ever stand, unrivalled.

Awful as must have been these impressions upon his imagination, they were soon thrown off, and the mad youth rushed on in his desperate career of vice and folly. Is he then left to fill up the measure of his iniquities? No, the Lord has a great work for him to do. HIS hand is not shortened that he cannot save. Bunyan has to be prepared for his work; and if terrors will not stop him, manifested mercies in judgments are to be tried.

`God did not utterly leave me, but followed me still, not now with convictions, but judgments; yet such as were mixed with mercy. For once I fell into a creek of the sea, and hardly escaped drowning. Another time I fell out of a boat into Bedford river, but mercy yet preserved me alive. Besides, another time, being in the field with one of my companions, it chanced that an adder passed over the highway, so I, having a stick in my hand, struck her over the back; and having stunned her, I forced open her mouth with my stick, and plucked her sting out with my fingers; by which act, had not God been merciful unto me, I might by my desperateness have brought myself to my end.

`This also have I taken notice of, with thanksgiving. When I was a soldier, I, with others, were drawn out to go to such a place to besiege it; but when I was just ready to go, one of the company desired to go in my room, to which, when I had consented, he took my place; and coming to the siege, as he stood sentinel, he was shot into the head with a musket bullet, and died.'27

27 Life appended to the first and second editions of the forged third part of Pilgrim's Progress.

In addition to these mercies recorded by his own pen, one of his friends asserts that he acknowledged his deep obligations to Divine mercy for being saved when he fell into an exceeding deep pit, as he was traveling in the dark; for having been preserved in sickness; and also for providential goodness that such a sinner was sustained with food and raiment, even to his own admiration.

Bunyan adds, 'Here were judgments and mercy, but neither of them did awaken my soul to righteousness'; wherefore I sinned still, and grew more and more rebellious against God, and careless of mine own salvation.'28

28 Grace Abounding, Nos. 12-14, vol. i., p. 7. How do these hair-breadth escapes illustrate the unerring providence of God, and the short-sightedness of even pious Christians. It is easy to imagine the exclamations of a reflecting character when hearing of the marvelous escapes of this wicked youth. `Dark providences! the good and benevolent are snatched away; but such a plague as this has his life preserved to pester us still. Short-sighted mortal, "shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?"' No life in the British empire was so precious in the sight and gracious purposes of God, as that of the poor depraved lad; which was thus preserved by the special care of Divine providence.

That such a scape-grace should enter the army can occasion no surprise. His robust, hardy frame, used to exposure in all weathers—his daring courage, as displayed in his perilous dealing with the adder, bordering upon fool-hardiness—his mental depravity and immoral habits, fitted him for all the military glory of rapine and desolation. In his Grace Abounding he expressly states that this took place before his marriage, while his earliest biographer places this event some years after his marriage, and even argues upon it, as a reason why he became a soldier, that 'when the unnatural civil war came on, finding little or nothing to do to support himself and small family, he, as many thousands did, betook himself to arms.'29 The same account states that, 'in June, 1645, being at the siege of Leicester, he was called out to be one who was to make a violent attack upon the town, vigorously defended by the King's forces against the Parliamentarians, but appearing to the officer who was to command them to be somewhat awkward in handling his arms, another voluntarily, and as it were thrust himself into his place, who, having the same post that was designed Mr. Bunyan, met his fate by a carbine-shot from the wall; but this little or nothing startled our too secure sinner at that time; for being now in an army where wickedness abounded, he was the more hardened.'

29 Life appended to part third of Pilgrim's Progress, 1692. This is omitted from the third edition (1700), and all the subsequent ones.

Thus we find Bunyan engaged in military affairs. There can be no doubt but that he was a soldier prior to his marriage, and that he was present at the siege of Leicester; but it is somewhat strange (if true) that he should have preferred the Parliamentary to the Royal army. Although this is a question that cannot be positively decided without further evidence than has yet been discovered, there are strong reasons for thinking that so loyal a man joined the Royal army, and not that of the Republicans.

The army into which Bunyan entered is described as being 'where wickedness abounded,' but, according to Hume, in this year the Republican troops were generally pious men.

Bunyan's loyalty was so remarkable as to appear to be natural to him; for even after he had so severely suffered from the abuse of kingly power, in interfering with the Divine prerogative of appointing modes of worship, he, who feared the face of no man—who never wrote a line to curry favour with any man or class of men—thus expresses his loyal feelings— 'I do confess myself one of the old-fashioned professors, that covet to fear God, and honour the king. I also am for blessing of them that curse me, for doing good to them that hate me, and for praying for them that despitefully use me and persecute me; and have had more peace in the practice of these things than all the world are aware of.' Pray for the long life of the king.' Pray that God would discover all plots and conspiracies against his person and government.'30 'Will you rebel against the king? is a word that shakes the world.'31 'Pray for all that are in authority; reproach not the governor, he is set over thee; all his ways are God's, either for thy help or the trial of thy graces—this is duty, will render thee lovely to thy friends, terrible to thine enemies, serviceable as a Christian.'32 Let kings have that fear, honour, reverence, worship that is due to their place, their office and dignity.' I speak it to show my loyalty to the king, and my love to my fellow-subjects.'33 With such proofs of his peaceful submission to government in all things that touched not the prerogatives of God; it would have been marvelous indeed if he had taken up arms against his king. His infatuated delight in swearing, and roisterous habits, were ill suited to the religious restraints of the Parliamentarians, while they would render him a high prize to Rupert's dragoons. Add to this, the remarkable fact, that Leicester was besieged and stormed with terrible slaughter by the king, but not by the army of the Parliament. The taking of Leicester by the king in person was attended with great cruelties. The abbey was burnt by the cavaliers. Rupert's black flag was hoisted on the gate which had been treacherously given up. Every Scotchman found in the town was murdered. The mace and town seals were carried off as plunder; and, if the account given by Thoresby in his History of Leicester is correct, the scene of carnage was quite enough to sicken Bunyan of a military life. He knew the mode in which plunder taken from the bodies of the slain was divided by the conquerors:—

`Or as the soldiers give unto
Each man the share and lot,
Which they by dint of sword have won,
From their most daring foe;
While he lies by as still as stone,
Not knowing what they do.'34

30 Vol. ii., p. 74.

31 Vol. i., p. 732.

32 Vol. ii., p. 738.

33 Vol. ii., p. 709; ii., p. 45; ii., 601.

34 Vol. iii., p. 727; v. 7, 8.

`The king's forces having made their batteries, stormed Leicester; those within made stout resistance, but some of them betrayed one of the gates; the women of the town laboured in making up the breaches, and in great danger. The king's forces having entered the town, had a hot encounter in the market-place; and many of them were slain by shot out of the windows, that they gave no quarter, but hanged some of the committee, and cut others to pieces. Some letters say that the kennels ran down with blood; Colonel Gray the governor, and Captain Hacker, were wounded and taken prisoners, and very many of the garrison were put to the sword, and the town miserably plundered. The king's forces killed divers who prayed quarter, and put divers women to the sword,35 and other women and children they turned naked into the streets, and many they ravished. They hanged Mr. Reynor and Mr. Sawyer in cold blood; and at Wighton they smothered Mrs. Barlowes, a minister's wife, and her children.'36

35 The women were remarkably active in defending the town.

36 Thoresby's Leicester, 4to, p. 128.

Lord Clarendon admits the rapine and plunder, and that the king regretted that some of his friends suffered with the rest.37 Humphrey Brown deposed that he was present when the garrison, having surrendered upon a promise of quarter, he saw the king's soldiers strip and wound the prisoners, and heard the king say-- 'cut them more, for they are mine enemies.' A national collection was made for the sufferers, by an ordinance bearing date the 28th October, 1645, which states that—'Whereas it is very well known what miseries befell the inhabitants of the town and county of Leicester, when the king's army took Leicester, by plundering the said inhabitants, not only of their wares in their shops, but also all their household goods, and their apparel from their backs, both of men, women, and children, not sparing, in that kind, infants in their cradles; and, by violent courses and tortures, compelled them to discover whatsoever they had concealed or hid, and after all they imprisoned their persons, to the undoing of the tradesmen, and the ruin of many of the country.'

37 Hist. of Rebellion, edition 1712, vol. ii., p. 652.

Can we wonder that 'the king was abused as a barbarian and a murderer, for having put numbers to death in cold blood after the garrison had surrendered; and for hanging the Parliament's committee, and some Scots found in that town?' The cruelties practiced in the king's presence were signally punished. He lost 709 men on that occasion, and it infused new vigour into the Parliament's army. The battle of Naseby was fought a few days after; the numbers of the contending forces were nearly equal; the royal troops were veterans, commanded by experienced officers; but the God of armies avenged the innocent blood shed in Leicester, and the royal army was cut to pieces; carriages, cannon, the king's cabinet, full of treasonable correspondence, were taken, and from that day he made feeble fight, and soon lost his crown and his life. The conquerors marched to Leicester, which surrendered by capitulation. Heath, in his Chronicle, asserts that 'no life was lost at the retaking of Leicester.' Many of Bunyan's sayings and proverbs are strongly tinged with the spirit of Rupert's dragoons—'as we say, blood up to the ears.'38 'What can be the meaning of this (trumpeters), they neither sound boot and saddle, nor horse and away, nor a charge?'39 In his allegories when he alludes to fighting, it is with the sword and not with the musket;40 'rub up man, put on thy harness.'41 'The father's sword in the hand of the sucking child is not able to conquer a foe.'42

38 Vol. i., p. 661.

39 Vol. iii., p. 357.

40 Vol. iii., p. 113, 358.

41 Vol. i., p. 726.

42 Vol. i., p. 694.

Considering his singular loyalty, which, during the French Revolution, was exhibited as a pattern to Dissenters by an eminent Baptist minister;43 considering also his profligate character and military sayings, it is very probable that Bunyan was in the king's army in 1645, being about seventeen years of age. It was a finishing school to the hardened sinner, which enabled him, in his account of the Holy War, so well to describe every filthy lane and dirty street in the town of Mansoul.

43 The Political Sentiments of John Bunyan, republished by John Martin, 1798.

Whether Bunyan left the army when Charles was routed at the battle of Naseby, or was discharged, is not known. He returned to his native town full of military ideas, which he used to advantage in his Holy War. He was not reformed, but hardened in sin, and, although at times alarmed with convictions of the danger of his soul, yet in the end, the flesh pleading powerfully, it prevailed; and he made a resolution to indulge himself in such carnal delights and pleasures as he was accustomed to, or that fell in his way. 'His neglecting his business, and following gaming and sports, to put melancholy thoughts out of his mind, which he could not always do, had rendered him very poor and despicable.'44

44 Life of Bunyan, 1692, p. 12.

In this forlorn and miserable state, he was induced, by the persuasion of friends, under the invisible guidance of God, to enter into the marriage state. Such a youth, then only twenty years of age, would naturally be expected to marry some young woman as hardened as himself, but he made a very different choice. His earliest biographer says, with singular simplicity, 'his poverty, and irregular course of life, made it very difficult for him to get a wife suitable to his inclination; and because none that were rich would yield to his allurements, he found himself constrained to marry one without any fortune, though very virtuous, loving, and conformably obedient and obliging, being born of good, honest, godly parents, who had instructed her, as well as they were able, in the ways of truth and saving knowledge.'45 The idea of his seeking a rich wife is sufficiently droll; he must have been naturally a persuasive lover, to have gained so good a helpmate. They were not troubled with sending cards, cake, or gloves, nor with the ceremony of receiving the visits of their friends in state; for he says, that `This woman and I came together as poor as poor might be, not having so much household stuff as a dish or spoon betwixt us both.'46 His wife had two books, The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven, and The Practice of Piety; but what was of more importance than wealth or household stuff, she had that seed sown in her heart which no thief could steal.47 She enticed and persuaded him to read those books. To do this he by application 'again recovered his reading, which he had almost lost.' His wife became an unspeakable blessing to him. She presents a pattern to any woman, who, having neglected the apostolic injunction not to be unequally yoked, finds herself under the dominion of a swearing dare devil. It affords a lovely proof of the insinuating benign favour of female influence. This was the more surprising, as he says, 'the thoughts of religion were very grievous to me,' and when 'books that concerned Christian piety were read in my hearing, it was as it were a prison to me.' In spite of all obstacles, his rugged heart was softened by her tenderness and obedience, he `keeping on the old course,'48 she upon every proper season teaching him how her father's piety secured his own and his family's happiness. Here was no upbraiding, no snubbing, no curtain lectures; all was affectionate, amiable mildness. At first, he became occasionally alarmed for his soul's salvation; then with the thought of having sinned away the day of grace, he plunged again into sin with greediness; anon a faint hope of mercy would fill him with fear and trembling. But this leads us to the wondrous narrative of his new birth.

45 Ibid., 1692, p. 13.

46 Vol. i., p. 7.

47 The Pathway to Heaven is the work of that pious puritan Dent, and is full of those striking illustrations which were admirably adapted to prepare Bunyan for writing his allegories. A copy with the name Ma Bunyann, written on the title page, has long been in the editor's library. We give a facsimile of the writing, as it has been supposed
***See book for signature
that of Bunyan. This is very doubtful; it appears more like a woman's hand; but, if it is the name of Mrs. Bunyan, then it indicates that his daughter Mary, baptized 20th July, 1650, was called after her.

48 Life of Bunyan, 1691, p. 13.



All nature is progressive; if an infant was suddenly to arrive at manhood, how idiotic and dangerous he would be! A long training is essential to fit the human being for the important duties of life; and just so is it in the new birth to spiritual existence—first a babe, then the young man; at length the full stature, and at last the experienced Christian.

The narrative of Bunyan's progress in his conversion is, without exception, the most astonishing of any that has been published. It is well calculated to excite the profoundest investigation of the Christian philosopher. Whence came those sudden suggestions, those gloomy fears, those heavenly rays of joy? Much learning certainly did not make him mad. The Christian dares not attribute his intense feelings to a distempered brain. Whence came the invisible power that struck Paul from his horse? Who was it that scared Job with dreams, and terrified him with visions? What messenger of Satan buffeted Paul? Who put 'a new song' into the mouth of David? We have no space in this short memoir to attempt the drawing a line between convictions of sin and the terrors of a distempered brain. Bunyan's opinions upon this subject are deeply interesting, and are fully developed in his Holy War. The capabilities of the soul to entertain vast armies of thoughts, strong and feeble, represented as men, women, and children, are so great as almost to perplex the strongest understanding. All these multitudes of warriors are the innumerable thoughts—the strife—in ONE soul. Upon such a subject an interesting volume might be written. But we must fix our attention upon the poor tinker who was the subject of this wondrous war.

The tender and wise efforts of Mrs. Bunyan to reclaim her husband, were attended by the Divine blessing, and soon led to many resolutions, on his part, to curb his sinful propensities and to promote an outward reformation; his first effort was regularly to attend Divine worship.

He says, 'I fell in very eagerly with the religion of the times, to wit, to go to church twice a-day, and that too with the foremost; and there should very devoutly both say and sing as others did, yet retaining my wicked life; but withal, I was so overrun with a spirit of superstition, that I adored, and that with great devotion, even all things, both the high-place, priest, clerk, vestment, service, and what else belonging to the Church; counting all things holy that were therein contained, and especially, the priest and clerk most happy, and without doubt greatly blessed, because they were the servants, as I then thought,49 of God, and were principal in the holy temple, to do his work therein. This conceit grew so strong in little time upon my spirit, that had I but seen a priest, though never so sordid and debauched in his life,50 I should find my spirit fall under him, reverence him, and knit unto him; yea, I thought, for the love I did bear unto them, supposing they were the ministers of God, I could have lain down at their feet, and have been trampled upon by them; their name, their garb, and work did so intoxicate and bewitch me.'

49 This is a solemn consideration; many profess to serve God while they are bond-slaves to sin; and many are servants in his family who are not sons, nor heirs, of heaven. Blessed are those who are both servants and sons.

50 Vol. i., p. 7, 8.

All this took place at the time when The Book of Common Prayer, having been said to occasion 'manifold inconveniency,' was, by an Act of Parliament, 'abolished,'51 and by a subsequent Act52 prohibited, under severe penalties, from being publicly used. The `manifold inconveniences' to which the Act refers, arose from differences of opinion as to the propriety of the form which had been enforced, heightened by the enormous cruelties practiced upon multitudes who refused to use it. Opposition to the English Liturgy as more combined in Scotland, by a covenant entered into, June 20, 1580, by the king, lords, nobles, and people, against Popery; and upon Archbishop Laud's attempt, in 1637, to impose the service-book upon our northern neighbours, tumults and bloodshed ensued; until, in 1643, a new and very solemn league and covenant was entered into, which, in 1645, extended its influence to England, being subscribed by thousands of our best citizens, with many of the nobility—'wherein we all subscribe, and each with his own hands lifted up to the Most High God, doe swear'; that being the mode of taking an oath, instead of kissing the cover of a book, as is now practiced. To the cruel and intemperate measures of Laud, and the zeal of Charles, for priestly domination over conscience, may be justly attributed the wars which desolated the country, while the solemn league and covenant brought an overwhelming force to aid the Parliament in redressing the grievances of the kingdom. During the Commonwealth there was substituted, in place of the Common Prayer, A directory for the Publique Worship of God, and the uniformity which was enjoined in it was like that of the Presbyterians and Dissenters of the present day. The people having assembled, and been exhorted to reverence and humility, joined the preacher in prayer. He then read portions of Scripture, with or without an exposition, as he judged it necessary, but not so as to render the

51 Jan. 3, 1644-5.

52 Aug. 23, 1645.

service tedious. After singing a psalm, the minister prayed, leading the people to mourn under a sense of sin, and to hunger and thirst after the grace of God, in Jesus Christ; an outline or abstract is given of the subject of public prayer, and similar instructions are given as to the sermon or paraphrase. Immediately after the sermon, prayer was again offered up, and after the outline that is given of this devotional exercise, it is noted, 'And because the prayer which Christ taught his disciples, is not only a pattern of prayer, but itself a most comprehensive prayer, we recommend it also to be used in the prayers of the Church.' This being ended, a psalm was sung, and the minister dismissed the congregation with a solemn blessing.53 Some of the clergy continued the use of prayers, contained in the liturgy, reciting, instead of reading them—a course that was not objected to. This was the form of service which struck Bunyan with such awe and reverence, leaving a very solemn impression upon his mind, which the old form of common prayer had never produced.

53 4to Edit., 1644.  

Bunyan was fond of athletic sports, bell-ringing, and dancing; and in these he had indulged, so far as his worldly calling allowed. Charles I, whether to promote Popery—to divert his subjects from political grievances—or to punish the Puritans, had endeavoured to drown their serious thoughts in a vortex of dissipation, by re-publishing the Book of Sports, to be used on Sundays. That 'after Divine service our good people be not disturbed, letted, or discouraged from dancing, either men or women; archery, leaping, vaulting, or any other such harmless recreations; May games, Whitsun-ales, Morris dances, May poles, and other sports.' But this was not all, for every 'Puritan and Precisian was to be constrained to conformity with these sports, or to leave their country.' The same severe penalty was enforced upon every clergyman who refused to read from his pulpit the Book of Sports, and to persuade the people thus to desecrate the Lord's-day. 'Many hundred godly ministers were suspended from their ministry, sequestered, driven from their livings, excommunicated, prosecuted in the high commission court, and forced to leave the kingdom for not publishing this declaration.'54 A little gleam of heavenly light falls upon those dark and gloomy times, from the melancholy fact that nearly eight hundred conscientious clergymen were thus wickedly persecuted. This was one of the works of Laud, who out-bonnered Bonner himself in his dreadful career of cruelty, while making havoc of the church of Christ. Even transportation for refusing obedience to such diabolical laws was not the greatest penalty; in some cases it was followed by the death of the offender. The punishments inflicted for nonconformity were accompanied by the most refined and barbarous cruelties. Still many of the learned bowed their necks to this yoke with abject servility: thus, Robert Powell, speaking of the Book of Sports, says, `Needless is it to argue or dispute for that which authority hath commanded, and most insufferable insolence to speak or write against it.'55 These Sunday sports, published by Charles I, in 1633, had doubtless aided in fostering Bunyan's bad conduct in his youthful days. In 1644, when The Book of Common Prayer was abolished, an Act was passed for the better observance of the Lord's-day; all persons were prohibited on that day to use any wrestlings, shooting, bowing, ringing of bells for pastime, masques, wakes, church-ales, dancing, game, sports or pastime whatever; and that 'the Book of Sports shall be seized, and publicly burnt.' During the civil war this Act does not appear to have been strictly enforced; for, four years after it was passed, we find Bunyan and his dissolute companions worshipping the priest, clerk, and vestments on the Sunday morning, and assembling for their Sabbath-breaking sports in the afternoon. It was upon one of these occasions that a most extraordinary impression was fixed upon the spirit of Bunyan. A remarkable scene took place, worthy the pencil of the most eminent artist. This event cannot be better described than in his own words:—

54 Neale, 1822, vol. ii., p. 220.

55 Life of Alfred, comparing him to Charles I. Preface. 8vo. 1634.

One day, amongst all the sermons our parson made, his subject was, to treat of the Sabbath-day, and of the evil of breaking that, either with labour, sports, or otherwise; now I was, notwithstanding my religion, one that took much delight in all manner of vice, and especially that was the day that I did solace myself therewith; wherefore I fell in my conscience under his sermons, thinking and believing that he made that sermon on purpose to show me my evil doing. And at that time I felt what guilt was, though never before, that I can remember; but then I was, for the present, greatly loaden therewith, and so went home, when the sermon was ended, with a great burthen upon my spirit.

This, for that instant, did benumb the sinews of my best delights, and did imbitter my former pleasures to me; but behold it lasted not for before I had well dined, the trouble began to go off my mind, and my heart returned to its old course. But 0! how glad was I, that this trouble was gone from me, and that the fire was put out, that I might sin again without control! Wherefore, when I had satisfied nature with my food, I shook the sermon out of my mind, and to my old custom of sports and gaming I returned with great delight.

But the same day, as I was in the midst of a game at cat, and having struck it one blow from the hole, just as I was about to strike it the second time, a voice did suddenly dart from heaven into my soul, which said, "Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to heaven, or have thy sins and go to hell?" At this I was put to an exceeding maze; wherefore leaving my cat upon the ground, I looked up to heaven, and was as if I had, with the eyes of my understanding, seen the Lord Jesus looking down upon me, as being very hotly displeased with me, and as if he did severely threaten me with some grievous punishment for these and other my ungodly practices.

I had no sooner thus conceived in my mind, but, suddenly, this conclusion was fastened on my spirit, for the former hint did set my sins again before my face, that I had been a great and grievous sinner, and that it was now too late for me to look after heaven; for Christ would not forgive me, nor pardon my transgressions. Then I fell to musing upon this also; and while I was thinking on it, and fearing lest it should be so, I felt my heart sink in despair, concluding it was too late; and therefore I resolved in my mind I would go on in sin: for, thought I, if the case be thus, my state is surely miserable; miserable if I leave my sins, and but miserable if I follow them; I can but be damned, and if I must be so, I had as good be damned for many sins, as be damned for few.

Thus I stood in the midst of my play, before all that then were present: but yet I told them nothing. But I say, I having made this conclusion, I returned desperately to my sport again; and I well remember, that presently this kind of despair did so possess my soul, that I was persuaded I could never attain to other comfort than what I should get in sin; for heaven was gone already; so that on that I must not think.56

56 Vol. i., p. 8, 9.

How difficult is it, when immorality has been encouraged by royal authority, to turn the tide or to stem the torrent. For at least four years, an Act of Parliament had prohibited these Sunday sports. Still the supinelness of the justices, and the connivance of the clergy, allowed the rabble youth to congregate on the Green at Elstow, summoned by the church bells to celebrate their sports and pastimes, as they had been in the habit of doing on the Lord's day.57

57 The game of cat, tipcat, or "sly," so called by Wilson, in his life of Bunyan [Wilson's Edition of Works, vol. i., fol. 1736], is an ancient game well known in many parts of the kingdom. A number of holes are made in the ground, at equal distances, in a circular direction; a player is stationed at each hole; the opposite party stand around; one of them throws the cat to the batsman nearest to him; every time the cat is struck, the batsmen run from one hole to the next, and score as many as they change positions; but if the cat is thrown between them before reaching the hole, the batsman is out [Strutt's Sports and Pastimes, 8vo., p. 110]. Such was the childish game played by men on the Lord's day.

This solemn warning, received in the midst of his sport, was one of a series of convictions, by which he hardened sinner was to be fitted to receive the messages of mercy and love. In the midst of his companions and of the spectators, Bunyan was struck with a sense of guilt. How rapid were his thoughts—'Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to heaven, or have thy sins and go to hell?' With the eye of his understanding he saw the Lord Jesus as 'hotly displeased.' The tempter suggests it is 'too, too late' to seek for pardon, and with a desperate resolution which must have cost his heart the severest pangs, he continued his game. Still the impression remained indelibly fixed upon his mind.

The next blow which fell upon his hardened spirit was still more deeply felt, because it was given by one from whom he could the least have expected it. He was standing at a neighbour's shop-window, 'belching out oaths like the madman that Solomon speaks of, who scatters abroad firebrands, arrows, and death'58 `after his wonted manner.' He exemplified the character drawn by the Psalmist. 'As he clothed himself with cursing like as with his garment: so let it come into his bowels like water, and like oil into his bones.' Here was a disease that set all human skill at defiance, but the great, the Almighty Physician, cured it with strange physic. Had any professor reproved him, it might have been passed by as a matter of course; but it was so ordered that a woman who was notoriously 'a very loose and ungodly wretch,' protested that she trembled to hear him swear and curse at that most fearful rate; that he was the ungodliest fellow she had ever heard, and that he was able to spoil all the youth in a whole town.59 Public reproof from the lips of such a woman was an arrow that pierced his inmost soul; it effected a reformation marvelous to all his companions, and bordering upon the miraculous. The walls of a fortified city were once thrown down by a shout and the tiny blast of rams'-horns (Jos 6:20); and in this instance, the foundations of Heart Castle, fortified by Satan, are shaken by the voice of one of his own emissaries. Mortified and convicted, the foul-mouthed blasphemer swore no more; an outward reformation in words and conduct took place, but without inward spiritual life. Thus was he making vows to God and breaking them, repenting and promising to do better next time; so, to use his own homely phrase, he was `feeding God with chapters, and prayers, and promises, and vows, and a great many more such dainty dishes, and thinks that he serveth God as well as any man in England can, while he has only got into a cleaner way to hell than the rest of his neighbours are in.'60

58 Life by C. Doe, 1698.

59 Vol. i., p. 9.

60 Saved by Grace, vol. i., p. 351.

Such a conversion, as he himself calls it, was `from prodigious profaneness to something like moral life.'61 'Now I was, as they said, become godly, and their words pleased me well, though as yet I was nothing but a poor painted hypocrite.' These are hard words, but, in the most important sense, they were true. He was pointed out as a miracle of mercy—the great convert—a wonder to the world. He could now suffer opprobrium and cavils—play with errors—entangle himself and drink in flattery. No one can suppose that this outward reform was put on hypocritically, as a disguise to attain some sinister object; it was real, but it arose from a desire to shine before his neighbours, from shame and from the fear of future punishment, and not from that love to God which leads the Christian to the fear of offending him. It did not arise from a change of heart; the secret springs of action remained polluted; it was outside show, and therefore he called himself a painted hypocrite. He became less a despiser of religion, but more awfully a destroyer of his own soul.

61 Vol. i., p. 9; No. 32.

A new source of uneasiness now presented itself in his practice of bell-ringing, an occupation requiring severe labour, usually performed on the Lord's-day; and, judging from the general character of bell-ringers, it has a most injurious effect, both with regard to morals and religion. A circumstance had recently taken place which was doubtless interpreted as an instance of Divine judgment upon Sabbath-breaking. Clark, in his Looking-Glass for Saints and Sinners, 1657, published the narrative:—'Not long since, in Bedfordshire, a match at football being appointed on the Sabbath, in the afternoon whilst two were in the belfry, tolling of a bell to call the company together, there was suddenly heard a clap of thunder, and a flash of lightning was seen by some that sat in the church-porch coming through a dark lane, and flashing in their faces, which must terrified them, and, passing through the porch into the belfry, it tripped up his heels that was tolling the bell, and struck him stark dead; and the other that was with him was so sorely blasted therewith, that shortly after he died also.'62 Thus we find that the church bells ministered to the Book of Sports, to call the company to Sabbath-breaking. The bell-ringers might come within the same class as those upon whom the tower at Siloam fell, still it was a most solemn warning, and accounts for the timidity of so resolute a man as Bunyan. Although he thought it did not become his newly-assumed religious character, yet his old propensity drew him to the church tower. At first he ventured in, but took care to stand under a main beam, lest the bell should fall and crush him; afterwards he would stand in the door; then he feared the steeple might fall; and

Belfry Porch, Elstow. (See picture in book)

the terrors of an untimely death, and his newly-acquired garb of religion, eventually deterred him from this mode of Sabbath-breaking. His next sacrifice made at the shrine of self-righteousness was dancing: this took him one whole year to accomplish, and then he bade farewell to these sports for the rest of his life.63 We are not to conclude from the example of a man who in after-life proved so great and excellent a character, that, under all circumstances, bell-ringing and dancing are immoral. In those days, such sports and pastimes usually took place on the Lord's-day; and however the Church of England might then sanction it, and proclaim by royal authority, in all her churches, the lawfulness of sports on that sacred day, yet it is now universally admitted that it was commanding a desecration of the Sabbath, and letting loose a flood of vice and profaneness. In themselves, on days proper for recreation, such sports may be innocent; but if they engender an unholy thought, or occupy time needed for self-examination and devotion, they ought to be avoided as sinful hindrances to a spiritual life.

62 Folio edition, pp. 595-6.

Bunyan was now dressed in the garb of a religious professor, and had become a brisk talker in the matters of religion, when, by Divine mercy, he was stripped of all his good opinion of himself; his want of holiness, and his unchanged heart, were revealed to his surprise and wonder, by means simple and efficacious, but which no human forethought could have devised. Being engaged in his trade at Bedford, he overheard the conversation of some poor pious women, and it humbled and alarmed him. `I heard, but I understood not; for they were far above, out of my reach. Their talk was about a new birth, the work of God on their hearts, also how they were convinced of their miserable state by nature; how God had visited their souls with his love in the Lord Jesus, and with what words and promises they had been refreshed, comforted, and supported against the temptations of the devil. Moreover, they reasoned of the suggestions and temptations of Satan in particular; and told to each other by which they had been afflicted, and how they were borne up under his assaults. hey also discoursed of their own wretchedness of heart, of their unbelief; and did contemn, slight, and abhor their own righteousness, as filthy and insufficient to do them any good. And methought they spake as if joy did make them speak; they spake with such pleasantness of Scripture language, and with such appearance of grace in all they said, that they were to me as if they had found a new world; as if they were people that dwelt alone, and were not to be reckoned among their neighbours (Nu 23:9).

63 In the Engraving, p. 1, vol. i., is a view of part of the village green, Elstow, with the ancient building now used as a school-house, as seen from the church-yard. This building is older than the time of Bunyan, and was the scene of village meetings at the period in which he lived, and doubtless associated with his dancing and thoughtless amusements, as the green itself was the scene of the game of cat. A view looking towards the church is given in Vignette to vol. i. of the Works.

`At this I felt my own heart began to shake, as mistrusting my condition to be nought; for I saw that in all my thoughts about religion and salvation, the new birth did never enter into my mind; neither knew I the comfort of the Word and promise, nor the deceitfulness and treachery of my own wicked heart. As for secret thoughts, I took no notice of them; neither did I understand what Satan's temptations were, nor how they were to be withstood, and resisted.

`Thus, therefore, when I heard and considered what they said, I left them, and went about my employment again, but their talk and discourse went with me; also my heart would tarry with them, for I was greatly affected with their words, 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.'64

64 Vol. i., p. 10.

The brisk talker of 'talkative,' was confounded—he heard pious godly women mourning over their worthlessness instead of vaunting of their attainments. They exhibited, doubtless to his great surprise, that self-distrust and humility are the beginnings of wisdom.

These humble disciples could have had no conception that the Holy Spirit was blessing their Christian communion to the mind of the tinker, standing near them, pursuing his occupation. The recollection of the converse of these poor women led to solemn heart-searching and the most painful anxiety; again and again he sought their company, and his convictions became more deep, his solicitude more intense. This was the commencement of an internal struggle, the most remarkable of any upon record, excepting that of the psalmist David.

It was the work of the Holy Spirit in regenerating and preparing an ignorant and rebellious man for extraordinary submission to the sacred Scriptures, and for most extensive usefulness. To those who never experienced in any degree such feelings, they appear to indicate religious insanity. It was so marvelous and so mysterious, as to be mistaken by a poet laureate, who profanely calls it a being 'shaken continually by the hot and cold fits of a spiritual ague': 'reveries': or one of the 'frequent and contagious disorders of the human mind,'65 instead of considering it as wholesome but bitter medicine for the soul, administered by the heavenly Physician. At times he felt, like David, `a sword in his bones,' tears his meat.' God's waves and billows overwhelmed him (Ps 43). Then came glimmerings of hope—precious promises saving him from despair—followed by the shadow of death overspreading his soul, and involving him in midnight darkness. He could complain in the bitterness of his anguish, `Thy fierce wrath goeth over me.' Bound in affliction and iron, his 'soul was melted because of trouble.' Now Satan assaults the soul with darkness, fears, frightful thoughts of apparitions; now they sweat, pant, and struggle for life. The angels now come (Ps 107) down to behold the sight, and rejoice to see a bit of dust and ashes to overcome principalities, and powers, and might, and dominion.'66 His mind was fixed on eternity, and out of the abundance of his heart he spoke to one of his former companions; his language was that of reproof—'Harry, why do you swear and curse thus? what will become of you if you die in this condition?'67 His sermon, probably the first he had preached, was like throwing pearls before swine—'He answered in a great chafe, what would the devil do for company, if it were not for such as I am.'68  

65 Southey's Life, pp. xxv., xxxii.

66 Vol. i., p. 80.

67 Vol. i., p. 11.

68 Vol. iii., p. 607.

By this time he had recovered the art of reading, and its use a little perplexed him, for he became much puzzled with the opinions of the Ranters, as set forth in their books. It is extremely difficult to delineate their sentiments; they were despised by all the sects which had been connected with the government, because, with the Quakers and Baptists, they denied any magisterial or state authority over conscience, and refused maintenance to ministers; but from the testimony of Bunyan, and that of the early Quakers, they appear to have been practical Antinomians, or at least very nearly allied to the new sect called Mormonites. Ross, who copied from Pagitt, describes them with much bitterness—'The Ranters are unclean beasts—their maxim is that there is nothing sin but what a man thinks to be so—they reject the Bible—they are the merriest of all devils—they deny all obedience to magistrates.'69

69 Heresiography. 4tp. 1654. p. 143.

This temptation must have been severe. The Ranters were like the black man with the white robe, named Flatterer, who led the pilgrims into a net,70 under the pretence of showing them the way to the celestial city; or like Adam the first, who offered Faithful his three daughters to wife71—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life—if he would dwell with him in the town of Deceit. 'These temptations,' he says, 'were suitable to my flesh,'72 I being but a young man, and my nature in its prime; and, with his characteristic humility, he adds, 'God, who had, as I hope, designed me for better things, kept me in the fear of his name, and did not suffer me to accept such cursed principles.' Prayer opened the door of escape; it led him to the fountain of truth. 'I began to look into the Bible with new eyes. Prayer preserved me from Ranting errors. The Bible was precious to me in those days.'73 His study of the Holy Oracles now became a daily habit, and that with intense earnestness and prayer. In the mist of the multitude of sects with which he was on all sides surrounded, he felt the need of a standard for the opinions which were each of them eagerly followed by votaries, who proclaimed them to be THE TRUTH, the way, and the life. He was like a man, feeling that if he erred in the way, it would be attended with misery, and, but for Divine interference, with unutterable ruin—possessed of a correct map, but surrounded with those who, by flattery, or threats, or deceit, and armed with all human eloquence, strove to mislead him. With an enemy within to urge him to accept their wily guidance, that they might lead him to perdition—inspired by Divine grace, like Christian in his Pilgrim, he `put his fingers in his ears, and ran on, crying Life, life, eternal life.' He felt utter dependence upon Divine guidance, leading him to most earnest prayer, and an implicit obedience to Holy Writ, which followed him all through the remainder of his pilgrimage. 'The Bible' he calls `the scaffold, or stage, that God has builded for hope to play his part upon in this world.'74 Hence the Word was precious in his eyes; and with so immense a loss, or so magnificent a gain, the throne of grace was all his hope, that he might be guided by that counsel that cannot err, and that should eventually insure his reception to eternal glory.

70 Vol. iii., p. 151.

71 Vol. iii., p. 118.

72 Vol. i., p. 11.

73 Vol. i., p. 11.

74 Vol. i., p. 591.

While in this inquiring state, he experienced much doubt and uncertainty arising from the apparent confidence of many professors. In his own esteem he appeared to be thoroughly humbled; and when he lighted on that passage—'To one is given by the spirit the word of wisdom, to another, knowledge, and to another, faith' (1Co 12:8-9), his solemn inquiry was, how it happened that he possessed so little of any of these gifts of wisdom, knowledge, or faith—more especially of faith, that being essential to the pleasing of God. He had read (Mt 21:21), 'If ye have faith and doubt not, ye shall say unto this mountain, Be thou removed, and be thou cast into the sea; it shall be done'; and (Lu 17:6), 'If ye had faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye might say to this sycamore tree, Be thou plucked up by the root, and be thou planted in the sea, and it shall obey you'; and (1Co 13:2), 'Though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains.' The poor tinker, considering these passages in their literal import, imagined they were meant as tests to try whether the believer possessed faith or not. He was a stranger to the rules of Hebrew rhetoric; nor did he consider that they were addressed to the apostles, who had the power to work miracles. He had no idea that the removing a mountain, or planting a sycamore tree in the sea, were figures of speech conveying to us the fact that, aided by faith, mountainous difficulties might and would be overcome. Anxious for some ocular demonstration that he had faith, he almost determined to attempt to work a miracle—not to convert or confirm the faith of others, but to satisfy his own mind as to his possessing faith. He had no such magnificent idea as the removal of a mountain, for there were none in his neighbourhood, nor to plant a tree in the sea, for Bedfordshire is an inland county; but it was of the humblest kind—that some puddles on the road between Elstow and Bedford should change places with the dry ground. When he had thought of praying for ability, his natural good sense led him to abandon the experiment.75 This he calls `being in my plunge about faith, tossed betwixt the devil and my own ignorance.'76 All this shows the intensity of his feelings and his earnest inquiries.

75 The Rev. H. J. Rose, in his Biographical Dictionary, distorts this singular affair into, 'he laid claim to a faith of such magnitude as to work miracles!'

76 Vol. i., p. 12.

It may occasion surprise to some, that a young man of such extraordinary powers of mind, should have indulged the thought of working a miracle to settle or confirm his doubts; but we must take into account, that when a boy he had no opportunity of acquiring scriptural knowledge; no Sunday schools, no Bible class excited his inquiries as to the meaning of the sacred language. The Bible had been to him a sealed book until, in a state of mental agony, he cried, What must I do to be saved? The plain text was all his guide; and it would not have been surprising, had he been called to bottle a cask of new wine, if he had refused to use old wine bottles; or had he cast a loaf into the neighbouring river Ouse, expecting to find it after many days. The astonishing fact is, that one so unlettered should, by intense thought, by earnest prayer, and by comparing one passage with another, arrive eventually at so clear a view both of the external and internal meaning of the whole Bible. The results of his researches were more deeply impressed upon his mind by the mistakes which he had made; and his intense study, both of the Old and New Testaments, furnished him with an inexhaustible store of things new and old—those vivid images and burning thoughts, those bright and striking illustrations of Divine truth, which so shine and sparkle in all his works. What can be more clear than his illustration of saving faith which worketh by love, when in after-life he wrote the Pilgrim's Progress. Hopeful was in a similar state of inquiry whether he had faith. 'Then I said, But, Lord, what is believing?' And then I saw from that saying, He that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that believeth in me shall never thirst, that believing and coming was all one, and that he that came, that is, ran out in his heart and affections after salvation by Christ, he indeed believed in Christ (Joh 6:25).77

77 Vol. iii., pp. 155, 156.

In addition to his want of scriptural education, it must be remembered that, when he thought of miraculous power being an evidence of faith, his mind was in a most excited state—doubts spread over him like a huge masses of thick black clouds, hiding the Sun of Righteousness from his sight. Not only is he to be pardoned for his error, but admired for the humility which prompted him to record so singular a trial, and his escape from 'this delusion of the tempter.' While 'thus he was tossed betwixt the devil and his own ignorance,78 the happiness of the poor women whose conversation he had heard at Bedford, was brought to his recollection by a remarkable reverie or day dream:—

78 Vol. i., p. 12.

About this time, the state and happiness of these poor people at Bedford was thus, in a dream or vision, represented to me. I saw as if they were set on the sunny side of some high mountain, there refreshing themselves with the pleasant beams of the sun, while I was shivering and shrinking in the cold, afflicted with frost, snow, and dark clouds. Methought also, betwixt me and them, I saw a wall that did compass about this mountain; now through this wall my soul did greatly desire to pass, concluding that if I could, I would go even into the very midst of them, and there also comfort myself with the heat of their sun.

About this wall I thought myself to go again and again, still prying, as I went, to see if I could find some way or passage, by which I might enter therein; but none could I find for some time. At the last I saw, as it were, a narrow gap, like a little doorway in the wall, through which I attempted to pass; but the passage being very strait and narrow, I made many efforts to get in, but all in vain, even until I was well nigh quite beat out, by striving to get in; at last, with great striving, methought I at first did get in my head, and after that, by a sidling striving, my shoulders, and my whole body; then I was exceeding glad, and went and sat down in the midst of them, and so was comforted with the light and heat of their sun.

Now this mountain, and wall, was thus made out to me: The mountain signified the church of the living God; the sun that shone thereon, the comfortable shining of his merciful face on them that were therein; the wall I thought was the Word, that did make separation between the Christians and the world; and the gap which was in this wall, I thought, was Jesus Christ, who is the way to God the Father (Joh 14:6; Mt 7:14). But forasmuch as the passage was wonderful narrow, even so narrow that I could not, but with great difficulty, enter in thereat, it showed me, that none could enter into life, but those that were in downright earnest, and unless also they left this wicked world behind them; for here was only room for body and soul, but not for body and soul and sin.79

79 It is as easy for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, as for a man to pass through this door with the world on his back.

This resemblance abode upon my spirit many days; all which time I saw myself in a forlorn and sad condition, but yet was provoked to a vehement hunger and desire to be one of that number that did sit in the sunshine. Now also I should pray wherever I was; whether at home or abroad, in house or field, and should also often, with lifting up of heart, sing that of the fifty-first Psalm, "0 Lord, consider my distress."80

80 Vol. i., p. 13.

In this striking reverie we discover the budding forth of that great genius which produced most beautiful flowers and delicious fruit, when it became fully developed in his allegories.

While this trial clouded his spirits, he was called to endure temptations which are common to most, if not all, inquiring souls, and which frequently produce much anxiety. He plunged into the university problems of predestination, before he had completed his lower grammar-school exercises on faith and repentance. Am I one of the elect? or has the day of grace been suffered to pass by never to return? 'Although he was in a flame to find the way to heaven and glory,' these questions afflicted and disquieted him, so that the very strength of his body was taken away by the force and power thereof. 'Lord, thought I, what if I should not be elected! It may be you are not, said the tempter; it may be so, indeed thought I. Why then, said Satan, you had as good leave off, and strive no farther; for if indeed you should not be elected and chosen of God, there is no talk of your being saved; "for it is neither of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy."

`By these things I was driven to my wit's end, not knowing what to say, or how to answer these temptations. Indeed, I little thought that Satan had thus assaulted me, but that rather it was my own prudence thus to start the question: for that the elect only obtained eternal life; that I without scruple did heartily close withal; but that myself was one of them, there lay all the question.'81

81 Vol. i., p. 13.

Thus was he for many weeks oppressed and cast down, and near to 'giving up the ghost of all his hopes of ever attaining life,' when a sentence fell with weight upon his spirit—'Look at the generations of old and see; did ever any trust in the Lord and was confounded' (Ecclesiasticus 2:10). This encouraged him to a diligent search from Genesis to Revelation, which lasted for above a year, and although he could not find that sentence, yet he was amply rewarded for this diligent examination of the Holy Oracles, and thus he obtained 'yet more experience of the love and kindness of God.' At length he found it in the Apocrypha, and, although not the language of inspiration, yet as it contained the sum and substance of the promises, he took the comfort of it, and it shone before his face for years. The fear that the day of grace had passed pressed heavily upon him; he was humbled, and bemoaned the time that he had wasted. Now he was confronted with that 'grim-faced one, the Captain Past-hope, with his terrible standard,' carried by Ensign Despair, red colours, with a hot iron and a hard heart, and exhibited at Eye-gate.82 At length these words broke in upon his mind, 'compel them to come in, that my house may be filled—and yet there is room.' This Scripture powerfully affected him with hope, that there was room in the bosom and in the house of Jesus for his afflicted soul.

82 Holy War, vol. iii., p. 342, 346.

His next temptation was to return to the world. This was that terrible battle with Apollyon, depicted in the Pilgrim's Progress, and it is also described at some length in the Jerusalem Sinner Saved. Among many very graphic and varied pictures of his own experience, he introduces the following dialogue with the tempter, probably alluding to the trials he was now passing through. Satan is loath to part with a great sinner. 'This day is usually attended with much evil towards them that are asking the way to Zion, with their faces thitherward. Now the devil has lost a sinner; there is a captive has broke prison, and one run away from his master. Now hell seems to be awakened from sleep, the devils are come out. They roar, and roaring they seek to recover their runaway. Now tempt him, threaten him, flatter him, stigmatize him, throw dust into his eyes, poison him with error, spoil him while he is upon the potter's wheel, anything to keep him from coming to Christ.'83 'What, my true servant,' quoth he, 'my old servant, wilt thou forsake me now? Having so often sold thyself to me to work wickedness, wilt thou forsake me now? Thou horrible wretch, dost not know, that thou hast sinned thyself beyond the reach of grace, and dost thou think to find mercy now? Art not thou a murderer, a thief, a harlot, a witch, a sinner of the greatest size, and dost thou look for mercy now? Dost thou think that Christ will foul his fingers with thee? It is enough to make angels blush, saith Satan, to see so vile a one knock at heaven-gates for mercy, and wilt thou be so abominably bold to do it?' Thus Satan dealt with me, says the great sinner, when at first I came to Jesus Christ. And what did you reply? saith the tempted. Why, I granted the whole charge to be true, says the other. And what, did you despair, or how? No, saith he, I said, I am Magdalene, I am Zaccheus, I am the thief, I am the harlot, I am the publican, I am the prodigal, and one of Christ's murderers; yea, worse than any of these; and yet God was so far off from rejecting of me, as I found afterwards, that there was music and dancing in his house for me, and for joy that I was come home unto him. 0 blessed be God for grace (says the other), for then I hope there is favour for me. Yea, as I told you, such a one is a continual spectacle in the church, for every one by to behold God's grace and wonder by.84 These are the 'things the angels desire to look into' (1Pe 1:12), or as Bunyan quaintly says, this is the music which causes 'them that dwell in the higher orbs to open their windows, put out their heads, and look down to see the cause of that glory' (Le 15:7,10).85

83 Bunyan on the Throne of Grace, vol. i., p. 677.

84 Vol. i., p. 80.

85 Holy War, vol. iii., p. 297.

As he became less agitated with fear, and drew consolation more frequently from the promises, with a timid hope of salvation, he began to exhibit singular powers of conception in spiritualizing temporal things. His first essay was to find the hidden meaning in the division of God's creatures into clean and unclean. Chewing the cud, and parting the hoof, he conceived to be emblematical of our feeding upon the Word of God, and parting, if we would be saved, with the ways of ungodly men.86 It is not sufficient to chew the cud like the hare—nor to part the hoof like the wine—we must do both; that is, possess the word of faith, and that be evidenced by parting with our outward pollutions. This spiritual meaning of part of the Mosaic dispensation is admirably introduced into the Pilgrim's Progress, when Christian and Faithful analyse the character of Talkative.87 This is the germ of that singular talent which flourished in after-life, of exhibiting a spiritual meaning drawn from every part of the Mosaic dispensation, and which leads one of our most admired writers88 to suggest, that if Bunyan had lived and written during the early days of Christianity, he would have been the greatest of the fathers.

86 Vol. i., p. 14.

87 Vol. iii., p. 123.

88 Addison.

Although he had received that portion of comfort which enabled him to indulge in religious speculations, still his mind was unsettled, and full of fears. He now became alarmed lest he had not been effectually called to inherit the kingdom of heaven.89 He felt still more humbled at the weakness of human nature, and at the poverty of wealth. Could this call have been gotten for money, and 'could I have given it; had I a whole world, it had all gone ten thousand times over for this.' In this he was sincere, and so he was when he said, I would not lose one promise, or have it struck out of the Bible, if in return I could have as much gold as would reach from London to York, piled up to the heavens. In proportion to his soul's salvation, honour was a worthless phantom, and gold but glittering dust. His earnest desire was to hear his Saviour's voice calling him to his service. Like many young disciples, he regretted not having been born when Christ was manifest in the flesh. 'Would I had been Peter or John!' their privations, sufferings, martyrdom, was nothing in comparison to their being with, and hearing the voice of the Son of God calling them to his service. Strange, but general delusion! as if Christ were not the same yesterday, to day, and for ever. Groaning for a sense of pardon, he was comforted by Joel—'I will cleanse their blood that I have not cleansed, for the Lord dwelleth in Zion' (Joe 3:21), and he was led to seek advice and assistance from a neighbouring minister, and from pious persons.

89 Vol. i., p. 14.

The poor women in Bedford, whose conversation had been blessed to his thorough awakening, were sought for, and to them he unfolded his sorrows. They were members of a Baptist church, under the pastoral care of John Gifford, a godly, painstaking, and most intelligent minister, whose history is very remarkable. In early life he had been, like Bunyan, a thoroughly depraved character; like him had entered the army, and had been promoted to the rank of a major in the royal forces. Having made an abortive attempt to raise a rebellion in his native county of Kent,90 he and eleven others were made prisoners, tried by martial law, and condemned to the gallows. On the night previous to the day appointed for his execution, his sister found access to the prison. The guards were asleep, and his companions drowned in intoxication. She embraced the favourable moment, and set him at liberty. He lay concealed in a ditch for three days, till the heat of the search was over, and in disguise escaped to London, and thence to Bedford, where, aided by some great people who favoured the royal cause, he commenced business as a doctor. Here his evil habits followed him, notwithstanding his merciful deliverance. Swearing, drunkenness, gambling, and other immoral practices, rendered him a curse to others, especially to the Puritans, whom he bitterly persecuted. One night he lost fifteen pounds at play, and, becoming outrageous, he cast angry reproaches upon God. In this state he took up a book by R. Bolton—he read, and his conscience was terror-stricken. Distress, under conviction of sin, followed him. He searched his Bible, and found pardon and acceptance. He now sought acquaintance with those whom before he had persecuted, but, like Paul, when in similar circumstances, 'they were all afraid of him.' His sincerity soon became apparent; and, uniting with eleven others, they formed a church. These men had thrown off the fetters of education, and were, unbiased by any sectarian feeling, being guided solely by their prayerful researches into divine truth as revealed in the Bible. Their whole object was to enjoy Christian communion—to extend the reign of grace—to live to the honour of Christ—and they formed a new, and at that time unheard-of, community. Water-baptism was to be left to individual conviction; they were to love each other equally, whether they advocated baptism in infancy, or in riper years. The only thing essential to church-fellowship, in Mr. Gifford's opinion, was—'UNION WITH CHRIST; this is the foundation of all saints' communion, and not any judgment about externals.' To the honour of the Baptists, these peaceable principles appear to have commenced with two or three of their ministers, and for the last two centuries they have been, like heavenly leaven, extending their delightful influence over all bodies of Christians.

90 April 1645. About 300 discontented persons got together in Kent, and took Sir Percival Hart's house; Colonel Blunt attacked and dispersed them with horse and foot, regained the house, and made the chief of them prisoners. Whitelock, folio 137.

Such was the man to whom Bunyan was introduced for religious advice and consolation; and he assisted in forming those enlarged and nonsectarian principles which made his ministry blessed, and will render his Works equally acceptable to all evangelical Christians in every age of the church. Introduced to such a minister, and attending social meetings for prayer and Christian converse, he felt still more painfully his own ignorance, and the inward wretchedness of his own heart. 'His corruptions put themselves forth, and his desires for heaven seemed to fail.' In fact, while he compared himself with his former self, he was a religious giant; in comparison with these pious, longstanding Christians, he dwindled into a pigmy; and in the presence of Christ he became, in his own view, less than nothing, and vanity. He thus describes his feelings:—'I began to sink—my heart laid me low as hell. I was driven as with a tempest—my heart would be unclean—the Canaanites would dwell in the land.'91 He was like the child which the father brought to Christ, who, while he was coming to Him, was thrown down by the devil, and so rent and torn that he lay and wallowed, foaming. His heart felt so hard, that with many a bitter sigh he cried, 'Good Lord! break it open. Lord, break these gates of brass, and cut these bars of iron asunder' (Ps 107:16). Little did he then think that his bitterness of spirit was a direct answer to such prayers. Breaking the heart was attended with anguish in proportion as it had been hardened. During this time he was tender and sensitive as to the least sin; 'now I durst not take a pin or a stick, my conscience would smart at every touch.' '0, how gingerly did I then go in all I said or did!'92 'Still sin would as naturally bubble out of my heart as water would bubble out of a fountain.' He felt surprised when he saw professors much troubled at their losses, even at the death of the dearest relative. His whole concern was for his salvation. He imagined that he could bear these small afflictions with patience; but 'a wounded spirit who can bear?'

91 Vol. i., p. 15.

92 Vol. i., p. 15; No. 82.

In the midst of all these miseries, and at times regretting that he had been endowed with an immortal spirit, liable to eternal ruin, he was jealous of receiving comfort, lest it might be based upon any false foundation. Still as his only hope he was constant in his attendance upon the means of grace, and 'when comforting time was come,' he heard one preach upon two words of a verse, which conveyed strong consolation to his weary spirit; the words were, `my love' (Song 4:1). From these words the minister drew the following conclusions:-1. That the church, and so every saved soul, is Christ's love, even when loveless; 2. Christ's love is without a cause; 3. They are Christ's love when hated of the world; 4. Christ's love when under temptation and under desertion; 5. Christ's love from first to last.93 Now was his heart filled with comfort and hope. 'I could believe that my sins should be forgiven me'; and, in a state of rapture, he thought that his trials were over, and that the savour of it would go with him through life. Alas! his enjoyment was but for a season—the preparation of his soul for future usefulness was not yet finished. In a short time the words of our Lord to Peter came powerfully into his mind—'Satan hath desired to have you'; and so strong was the impression they made, that he thought some man addressed them to him; he even turned his head to see who it was that thus spoke to him. This was the forerunner of a cloud and a storm that was coming upon him. It was the gathering up of Satan's mighty strength, to have, if possible, overwhelmed him. His narrative of this internal tempest in his soul—this last great struggle with the powers of darkness—is very striking.

93 Vol. i., p. 16.

About the space of a month after, a very great storm came down upon me, which handled me twenty times worse than all I had met with before; it came stealing upon me, now by one piece, then by another. First, all my comfort was taken from me; then darkness seized upon me; after which, whole floods of blasphemies, both against God, Christ, and the Scriptures, were poured upon my spirit, to my great confusion and astonishment. These blasphemous thoughts were such as also stirred up questions in me against the very being of God, and of his only beloved Son. As, whether there were in truth a God or Christ, or no? And whether the Holy Scriptures were not rather a fable, and cunning story, than the holy and pure Word of God.

These suggestions, with many others, which at this time I may not, dare not utter, neither by word nor pen, did make such a seizure upon my spirit, and did so overweigh my heart, both with their number, continuance, and fiery force, that I felt as if there were nothing else but these from morning to night within me, and as though indeed there could be room for nothing else; and also concluded, that God had, in very wrath to my soul, given me up unto them, to be carried away with them as with a mighty whirlwind.

Only by the distaste that they gave unto my spirit, I felt there was something in me that refused to embrace them.94

94 Vol. i., p. 17, 18.

Here are the facts which are allegorized in the history of Christian, passing through the Valley of Humiliation, and fighting with the Prince of the power of the air. 'Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up close to Christian, and wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall; and with that Christian's sword flew out of his hand.' This was the effect of his doubts of the inspiration of the Scriptures—the sword of the Spirit. 'I am sure of thee now, said Apollyon; and with that he had almost pressed him to death, so that Christian began to despair of life; but as God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching of his last blow, Christian nimbly stretched out his hand for his sword, and caught it, saying, "Rejoice not against me, 0 mine enemy, when I fall I shall arise" (Mt 7:8), and with that gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give back as one that had received his mortal wound. Christian perceiving that, made at him again, saying, "Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us"; and with that Apollyon spread forth his dragon wings, and sped him away.'95 What an awful moment, when he fell unarmed before his ferocious enemy! 'Faith now has but little time to speak to the conscience—it is now struggling for life—it is now fighting with angels—with infernals—all it can do now is to cry, groan, sweat, fear, fight, and gasp for life.'96 How desperate the conflict—the mouth of hell yawning to swallow him—man cannot aid the poor warrior, all his help is in God. Is it not a wonder to see a poor creature, who in himself is weaker than the moth, to stand against and overcome all devils—all the world—all his lusts and corruptions; or, if he fall, is it not a wonder to see him, when devils and guilt are upon him, to rise again, stand upon his legs, walk with God again, and persevere in faith and holiness? 97

95 Vol. iii., p. 113.

96 Bunyan's Saints' Privilege and Profit, vol. i., p. 661.

97 Bunyan's Saved by Grace, vol. i., p. 340.

This severe conflict lasted for about a year. He describes his feelings at times as resembling the frightful pangs of one broken on the wheel. The sources of his misery were fears that he had sinned against the Holy Ghost; and that through his hardness of heart and impatience in prayer—he should not persevere to the end. During all this time, occasional visits of mercy kept him from despair; and at some intervals filled him with transports of joy. At one time so delightfully was his burden removed that he could not tell how to contain himself. 'I thought I could have spoken of his love and of his mercy to me, even to the very crows that sat upon the ploughed lands before me, had they been capable to have understood me.'98 Thus his feelings were controlled by reason, very different to the poor madman who, in olden time, is represented as preaching to the fish. With Bunyan it was a hallowed j oy—a gush of holy gladness, in which he wished all creation to participate. his heart was baptized in hope. 'I know that my Redeemer liveth'; and with holy Job, he wished to perpetuate his joy by a memorial not in rock, but in a book of resemblance. 'I would I had a pen and ink here to write it down.' This is the first desire that he expressed to proclaim or publish to others the great Saviour he had found: but he was not yet prepared; he must pass through deeper depths, and possess a living knowledge of Divine truth, burnt into his soul by satanic fires.

98 Vol. i., p. 17.

Very soon after this, he was harassed with fear lest he should part with Christ. The tempter, as he did with Christian in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, suggested blasphemies to him, which he thought had proceeded from his own mind. 'Satan troubled him with his stinking breath. How many strange, hideous, and amazing blasphemies have some that are coming to Christ had injected upon their spirits against him.'99 'The devil is indeed very busy at work during the darkness of a soul. He throws in his fiery darts to amazement, when we are encompassed with the terrors of a dismal night; he is bold and undaunted in his assaults, and injects with a quick and sudden malice a thousand monstrous and abominable thoughts of God, which seem to be the motions of our own minds, and terribly grieve and trouble us.'100

99 Bunyan's Christ a Complete Saviour, vol. i., p. 210.

100 Rogers on Trouble of Mind. Preface. Thus temptations are suited to the state of the inquiring soul; the learned man who studies Plato, Aristotle, and Aquinas, is filled with doubts arising from `philosophy and vain deceit, profane and vain babblings'; the unlettered mechanic is tried not by logic, but by infernal artillery; the threatenings of God's Word are made to obscure the promises. It is a struggle which, to one possessing a vivid imag ination, is attended with almost intolerable agonies—unbelief seals up the door of mercy.

Bunyan agreed with his learned contemporary, Milton, in the invisible agency of good and bad spirits.

Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep!

The malignant demons watch their opportunity to harass the pilgrim with evil thoughts, injected when least expected.

What makes those arrows more penetrating and distressing is, that Satan, with subtle art, tips them with sentences of Scripture. 'No place for repentance'; 'rejected'; 'hath never forgiveness,' and other passages which, by the malignant ingenuity of the fiend, are formed by his skill as the cutting and barbed points of his shafts. At one time Bunyan concluded that he was possessed of the devil; then he was tempted to speak and sin against the Holy Ghost. He thought himself alone in such a tempest, and that no one had ever felt such misery as he did. When in prayer, his mind was distracted with the thought that Satan was pulling his clothes; he was even tempted to fall down and worship him. Then he would cry after God, in awful fear that eventually Satan would overcome him. During all this time he was struggling against the tempter; and, at length, the dayspring visited him in these words, 'I am persuaded that nothing shall separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.' Again he was cast down with a recollection of his former blasphemies. What reason can I have to hope for an inheritance in eternal life? The questions was answered with that portion of Scripture, 'If God be for us, who can be against us?' These were visits which, like Peter's sheet, of a sudden were caught up to heaven again.101 At length the Sun of Righteousness arose, and shone upon him with healing influence. 'He hath made peace through the blood of his cross,' came with power to his mind, followed by the consoling words of the apostle, 'Forasmuch, then, as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same; that through death he might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage' (Heb 2:14-15). This was the key that opened every lock in Doubting Castle. The prisoner escaped to breathe the air of hope, and joy, and peace. 'This,' said he, `was a good day to me, I hope I shall not forget it.' thought that the glory of those words was then so weighty on me, that I was, both once and twice, ready to swoon as I sat, not with grief and trouble, but with solid joy and peace.'

101 Vol. i., p. 19.

His mind was now in a fit state to seek for church fellowship, as a further means of advance in his knowledge of Divine love. To effect this object, he was naturally led to the Baptist church at Bedford, to which those pious women belonged whose Christian communion had been blessed to him. I sat under the ministry of holy Mr. Gifford, whose doctrine, by God's grace, was much for my stability.102 Although his soul was led from truth to truth, his trials were not over—he passed through many severe exercises before he was received into communion with the church.103

102 Vol. i., p. 20.

103 The anxiety of this pious teacher was to press upon his hearers to take special heed, not to receive any truth upon trust from any man, but to pray over it and search 'the Holy Word.' This, Mr. Southey designates, 'doctrine of a most perilous kind.' How happy would it be for society if every religious teacher pressed this perilous doctrine upon their hearers, that it might bring forth the same fruit universally, as it did specially in Bunyan. Compare Grace Abounding, No. 117, and Southey's Life, p. 27, 28.

At length he determined to become identified with a body of professed Christians, who were treated with great scorn by other sects because they denied infant baptism, and he became engaged in the religious controversies which were fashionable in those days. We have noticed his encounter with the Ranters, and he soon had to give battle to persons called Quakers. Before the Society of Friends was formed, and their rules of discipline were published, many Ranters and others, some of whom were bad characters and held the wildest opinions, passed under the name of Quakers. Some of these denied that the Bible was the Word of God; and asserted that the death of Christ was not a full atonement for sin—that there is no future resurrection, and other gross errors. The Quakers, who were afterwards united to form the Society of Friends, from the first denied all those errors. Their earliest apologist, Barclay, in his theses on the Scriptures, says, 'They are the doctrines of Christ, held forth in precious declarations, spoken and written by the movings of God's Spirit.' Whoever it was that asserted the heresies, to Bunyan the investigation of them, in the light of Divine truth, was attended with great advantages. It was through 'this narrow search of the Scriptures that he was not only enlightened, but greatly confirmed and comforted in the truth.'104

104 Vol. i., p. 21.

He longed to compare his experience with that of some old and eminent convert, and 'God did cast into his hand' Luther On the Galatians, `so old that it was ready to fall piece from piece, if I did but turn it over.'105 The commentary of this enlightened man was a counterpart to his own feelings. 'I found,' says Bunyan, 'my condition, in his experience so largely and profoundly handled, as if his book had been written out of my own heart. I prefer the book before all others as most fit for a wounded conscience.' This was the 'voice of a man' that Christian 'heard as going before him in the Valley of the Shadow of Death,' and was glad that some who feared God were in this valley as well as himself, who could say, 'I will fear no evil for thou art with me.'106 In many things Luther and Bunyan were men of similar temperament. Like Emmanuel's captains, in the Holy War, they were 'very stout rough-hewn men; men that were fit to break the ice, and to make their way by dint of sword.'107 They were animated by the same principles, and fought with the same weapons; and although Luther resided in a castle protected by princes, was furnished with profound scholastic learning, and became a terror to Popery; yet the voice of the unlettered tinker, issuing from a dreary prison, bids fair to be far more extensively heard and blessed than that of this most illustrious reformer.'108

l05 Vol. i., p. 22.

106 vol. iii., p. 115.

107 Vol. iii., p. 270.

108 Luther fell into the same mistake as to the Baptists, that Bunyan did as to the Quakers. Both were keenly alive to the honour of Christianity, and were equally misled by the loose conduct of some unworthy professors. Luther charges the Baptists as being 'devils possessed with worse devils' [Preface to Galatians]. 'It is all one whether he be called a Frank, a Turk, a Jew, or an Anabaptist' [Corn. Gal. iv. 8, 9]. 'Possessed with the devil, seditious, and bloody men' [Gal. v. 19]. Even a few days before his death, he wrote to his wife, 'Dearest Kate, we reached Halle at eight o'clock, but could not get on to Eisleben, for there met us a great Anabaptist, with waves and lumps of ice, which threatened us with a second baptism.' Bunyan, in the same spirit, calls the Quakers 'a company of loose ranters, light notionists, shaking in their principles!' [Vol. ii., p. 133, 9, 21]. Denying the Scriptures and the resurrection [Corn. Gal. iv. 29]. These two great men went through the same furnace of the regeneration; and Bunyan, notwithstanding Luther's prejudices against the Baptists, most affectionately recommended his Comment on the Galatians, as an invaluable work for binding up the broken-hearted.

Bunyan's happiness was now very great; his soul, with all its affections, clave unto Christ: but lest spiritual pride should exalt him beyond measure, and lest he should be scared to renounce his Saviour, by the threat of transportation and death, his heart was again wounded, and quickly after this his 'love was tried to purpose.'

The tempter came in upon him with a most grievous and dreadful temptation; it was to part with Christ, to exchange him for the things of this life; he was perpetually tormented with the words 'sell Christ.' At length, he thought that his spirit gave way to the temptation, and a dreadful and profound state of despair overpowered him for the dreary space of more than two years.109 This is the most extraordinary part of this wonderful narrative, that he, without apparent cause, should thus be tempted, and feel the bitterness of a supposed parting with Christ. There was, doubtless, a cause for every pang; his heavenly Father afflicted him for his profit. We shall soon have to follow him through fiery trials. Before the justices, allured by their arguments, and particularly by the sophistry of their clerk, Mr. Cobb, and then dragged from a beloved wife and from children to whom he was most fondly attached—all these fiery trials might be avoided, if he would but 'sell Christ.' A cold damp dungeon was to incarcerate his body for twelve tedious years of the prime of his life, unless he would 'sell Christ.' His ministering brother and friend, John Child, a Bedford man, who had joined in recommending Bunyan's Vindication of Gospel Truths,110 fell under this temptation, and fearing temporal ruin and imprisonment for life, conformed, and then fell into the most awful state of despair, suffering such agonies of conscience, that, to get rid of present trouble, he hurried himself into eternity. Probably Bunyan alludes to this awful instance of fell despair in his Publican and Pharisee: 'Sin, when appearing in its monstrous shape and hue, frighteth all mortals out of their wits, away from God; and if he stops them not, also out of the world.,111 To arm Bunyan against being overcome by a fear of the lions in the way to the house Beautiful—against giving way, under persecution—he was visited with terrors lest he should sell or part with Christ. During these sad years he was not wholly sunk in despair, but had at times some glimmerings of mercy. In comparing his supposed sin with that of Judas, he was constrained to find a difference between a deliberate intention to sell Christ and a sudden temptation.112 Through all these searchings of heart and inquiries at the Word, he became fixed in the doctrine of the final perseverance of God's saints. '0 what love, what care, what kindness and mercy did I now see mixing itself with the most severe and dreadful of all God's ways to his people; he never let them fall into sin unpardonable.' But these thoughts added grief and horror to me; I thought that all things wrought for my eternal overthrow.' So ready is the tender heart to write bitter things against itself, and as ready is the tempter to whisper despairing thoughts. In the midst of this distress he 'saw a glory in walking with God,' although a dismal cloud enveloped him.

109 Vol. i., p. 23.

110 vol. ii., p. 181.

111 Vol. ii., p. 260.

112 Vol. i., p. 25; No. 158.

This misery was aggravated by reading the fearful estate of Francis Spira, who had been persuaded to return to a profession of Popery, and died in a state of awful despair.113 'This book' was to his troubled spirit like salt rubbed into a fresh wound.

113 See note in vol. i., p. 26.

Bunyan now felt his body and mind shaking and tottering under the sense of the dreadful judgment of God; and he thought his sin—of a momentary and unwilling consent to give up Christ—was a greater sin than all the sins of David, Solomon, Manasseh, and even than all the sins that had been committed by all God's redeemed ones. Was there ever a man in the world so capable of describing the miseries of Doubting Castle, or of the Slough of Despond, as poor John Bunyan?

He would have run from God in utter desperation; 'but, blessed be his grace, that Scripture, in these flying sins, would call, as running after me, "I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins: return unto me, for I have redeemed thee"' (Isa 44:22).Still he was haunted by that scripture, 'You know how that afterwards, when he would have inherited the blessing, he found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears.' Thus was he tossed and buffeted, involved in cloudy darkness, with now and then a faint gleam of hope to save him from despair. 'In all these,' he says, 'I was but as those that justle against the rocks; more broken, scattered, and rent. Oh! the unthought of imaginations, frights, fears, and terrors, that are effected by a thorough application of guilt.'114 `Methought I saw as if the sun that shineth in the heavens did grudge to give light, and as if the very stones in the street, and tiles upon the houses, did bend themselves against me.'115 Here we find him in that doleful valley, where Christian was surrounded by enemies that 'cared not for his sword,' he put it up, and places his dependence upon the more penetrating weapon, 'All Prayer.' Depending upon this last resource, he prayed, even when in this great darkness and distress. To whom could he go? his case was beyond the power of men or angels. His refuge, from a fear of having committed the unpardonable sin, was that he had never refused to be justified by the blood of Christ, but ardently wished it; this, in the midst of the storm, caused a temporary clam. At length, he was led to look prayerfully upon those scriptures that had tormented him, and to examine their scope and tendency, and then he `found their visage changed, for they looked not so grimly on him as before he thought they did.'116 Still, after such a tempest, the sea did not at once become a calm. Like one that had been scared with fire, every voice was fire, fire; every little touch hurt his tender conscience.117

114 vol. i., p. 29.

115 Vol. i., p. 30.

116 The study of those scriptures, in order that the solemn question might be safely resolved, 'Can such a fallen sinner rise again?' was like the investigation of the title to an estate upon which a whole livelihood depended. Every apparent flaw must be critically examined. Tremblingly alive to the importance of a right decision, his prayers were most earnest; and at length, to his unspeakable delight, the word of the law and wrath gave place to that of life and grace.

117 Vol. i., p. 35.

All this instructive history is pictured by a few words in the Pilgrim's Progress. At the Interpreter's house the pilgrim is shown 'a fire burning against a wall, and one standing by it, always casting much water upon it, to quench it; yet did the fire burn higher and hotter. '118 As Esau beat him down, Christ raised him again. The threatening and the promise were like glittering swords clashing together, but the promise must prevail.

118 Vol. iii., p. 100.

His entire relief at last was sudden, while meditating in the field upon the words, 'Thy righteousness is in heaven.' Hence he drew the conclusion, that his righteousness was in Christ, at God's right hand, ever before him, secure from all the powers of sin and Satan. Now his chains fell off; he was loosed from his affliction and irons; his temptation fled away. His present supply of grace he compared to the cracked groats and fourpence half-pennies,119 which rich men carry in their pockets, while their treasure is safe in their trunks at home, as his was in the store-house of heaven.

119 Irish sixpences, which passed for fourpence-halfpenny. See the note on vol. i., p. 36. Since writing that note I have discovered another proof of the contempt with which that coin was treated:—'Christian, the wife of Robert Green, of Brexham, Somersetshire, in 1663, is said to have made a covenant with the devil; he pricked the fourth finger of her right hand, between the middle and upper joints, and took two drops of her blood on his finger, giving her a fourpence-halfpenny. Then he spake in private with Catharine her sister, and vanished, leaving a smell of brimstone behind!'—Turner's Remarkable Providences, folio, 1667, p. 28.

This dreary night of awful conflict lasted more than two years; but when the day-spring from on high visited him, the promises spangled in his eyes, and he broke out into a song, 'Praise ye the Lord. Praise God in his sanctuary: praise him in the firmament of his power. Praise him for his mighty acts: praise him according to his excellent greatness.'120

120 Vol. i., p. 36.

Bunyan's opinion as to the cause of this bitter suffering, was his want of watchfulness, his not coming boldly to the throne of grace, and that he had tempted God. The advantages he considered that he had gained by it were, that it confirmed his knowledge of the existence of God, so that he lost all his temptations to unbelief, blasphemy, and hardness of heart, Doubts as to the truth of the Word, and certainty of the world to come, were gone for ever.

He found no difficulty as to the keys of the kingdom of heaven. 'Now I saw the apostles to be the elders of the city of refuge, those that they were to receive in, were received to life, but those that they were to shut out, were to be slain by the avenger of blood.' Those were to enter who, with Peter, confessed to Jesus, 'Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God' (Mt 16:16). This is simply an authority to proclaim salvation or condemnation to those who receive or reject the Saviour. It is upon his shoulder the key of the house is laid (Isa 22:22). Christ only has the key, no MAN openeth or shutteth (Re 1:18; 3:7). All that man can do, as to binding or loosening, is to warn the hardened and to invite the contrite.

By these trials, the promises, became more clear and invaluable than ever. He never saw those heights and depths in grace, and love, and mercy, as he saw them after this severe trial—'great sins drew out great grace'; and the more terrible and fierce guilt was, the more high and mighty did the mercy of God in Christ appear. These are Bunyan's own reflections; but may we not add to them, that while he was in God's school of trial, every groan, every bitter pang of anguish, and every gleam of hope, were intended to fit him for his future work as a preacher and writer? Weighed in the balances of the sanctuary, there was not a jot too little, or an iota too much. Every important subject which embarrasses the convert, was most minutely investigated, especially faith, the sin against the Holy Ghost, the divinity of Christ, and such essential truths. He well knew every dirty lane, and nook, and corner of Mansoul, in which the Diabolonians found shelter, and well he knew the frightful sound of Diabolus' drum.121 Well did his pastor, John Burton, say of him, 'He hath through grace taken these three heavenly degrees, to wit, union with Christ, the anointing of the Spirit, and experience of the temptations of Satan, which do more fit a man for that mighty work of preaching the gospel, than all the university learning and degrees that can be had.'122

121 Holy War.

122 Vol. ii., p. 141.

Preserved in Christ Jesus, and called—selected from his associates in sin, he was taken into this school, and underwent the strictest religious education. It was here alone that his rare talent could be cultivated, to enable him, in two immortal allegories, to narrate the internal discipline he underwent. It was here he attained that habitual access to the throne of grace, and that insight into the inspired volume, which filled his writings with those solemn realities of the world to come; while it enabled him to reveal the mysteries of communion with the Father of spirits, as he so wondrously does in his treatise on prayer. To use the language of Milton—'These are works that could not be composed by the invocation of Dame Memory and her Siren daughters, but by devout prayer to that eternal Spirit, who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and send out his seraphim, with the hallowed fire of his altar, to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases, without reference to station, birth, or education.' The tent-maker and tinker, the fisherman and publican, and even a friar or monk,123 became the honoured instruments of his choice.

123 Luther and Tyndale.

Throughout all Bunyan's writings, he never murmurs at his want of education, although it is often a source of humble apology. He honoured the learned godly as Christians, but preferred the Bible before the library of the two universities.124 He saw, what every pious man must see and lament, that there is much idolatry in human learning, and that it was frequently applied to confuse and impede the gospel. Thus he addresses the reader of his treatise on The Law and Grace—'If thou find this book empty of fantastical expressions, and without light, vain, whimsical, scholar-like terms, it is because I never went to school, to Aristotle or Plato, but was brought up at my father's house, in a very mean condition, among a company of poor countrymen. But if thou do find a parcel of plain, yet sound, true, and home sayings, attribute that to the Lord Jesus his gifts and abilities, which he hath bestowed upon such a poor creature as I am and have been.'125 His maxim was—'Words easy to be understood do often hit the mark, when high and learned ones do only pierce the air. He also that speaks to the weakest may make the learned understand him; when he that striveth to be high, is not only of the most part understood but of a sort, but also many times is neither understood by them nor by himself!'126 This is one of Bunyan's maxims, well worthy the consideration of the most profoundly learned writers, and also of the most eloquent preachers and public speakers.

124 Vol. iii., p. 398.

125 Vol. i., p. 495.

126 Vol. iii., p. 398.

Bunyan was one of those pioneers who are far in advance of the age in which they live, and the narrative of his birth and education adds to the innumerable contradictions which the history of man opposes to the system of Mr. Owen and the Socialists, and to every scheme for making the offspring of the poor follow in leading-strings the course of their parents, or for rendering them blindly submissive to the dictates of the rich, the learned, or the influential. It incontestably proves the gospel doctrine of individuality, and, that native talent will rise superior to all impediments. Our forefathers struggled for the right of private judgment in matters of faith and worship—their descendants will insist upon it, as essential to salvation, personally to examine every doctrine relative to the sacred objects of religion, limited only by Holy Writ. This must be done with rigorous impartiality, throwing aside all the prejudices of education, and be followed by prompt obedience to Divine truth, at any risk of offending parents, or laws, or resisting institutions, or ceremonies which he discovers to be of human invention. All this, as we have seen in Bunyan, was attended with great mental sufferings, with painstaking labour, with a simple reliance upon the Word of God, and with earnest prayer. If man impiously dares to submit his conscience to his fellow-man, or to any body of men called a church, what perplexity must he experience ere he can make up his mind which to choose! Instead of relying upon the ONE standard which God has given him in his Word; should he build his hope upon a human system he could be certain only that man is fallible and subject to err. How striking an instance have we, in our day, of the result of education, when the mind does not implicitly follow the guidance of the revealed Word of God. Two brothers, named Newman, educated at the same school, trained in the same university, brought up under the same religious system—all human arts exhausted to mould their minds into strict uniformity, yet gradually receding from the same point in opposite directions, but in equally downward roads; one to embrace the most puerile legends of the middle ages, the other to open infidelity. Not so with those who follow the teachings of the Word of God, by which, and not by any church, they are to be individually judged at the great day: no pontiff, no priest, no minister, can intervene or mediate for them at the bar of God. There it will be said, 'I know you, by your prayers for Divine guidance and your submission to my revealed will'; or, 'I know you not,' for you preferred the guidance of frail, fallible men, to me, and to my Word—a solemn consideration, which, as it proved a source of solid happiness and extensive usefulness to Bunyan in his pilgrimage, so it insured to him, as it will to all who follow his course, a solid foundation on which to stand at the great and terrible day, and thus enable them to live as well as die in the sure and certain hope of a triumphant entry into the celestial city.



Man is naturally led to seek the society of his fellow-men. His personal progress, and the great interests of civilization, depend upon the nature of his friendly intercourse and his proper associations. So is it with the Christian, but in a much higher degree. Not only does he require companions with whom he can enjoy Christian communion—of sufferings and of pleasures—in seasons of depressing trials, and in holy elevations—but with whom he may also form plans to spread the genial influence of Christianity, which has blessed and so boundlessly enriched his own soul. Christian fellowship and communion has received the broad seal of heaven. 'The Lord hearkened,' when they that feared him spake often to one another, 'and a book of remembrance was written before him for them that feared the Lord' (Mal 3:16).

Bunyan possessed a soul with faculties capable of the highest enjoyment of the communion of saints in church order. His ideas of mutual forbearance—that 'in lowliness of mind should each esteem others better than themselves'—he enforces with very peculiar power, and, at the same time, with delicate sensibility. After the pilgrims had been washed by Innocence in the Interpreter's bath, he sealed them, which 'greatly added to their beauty,' and then arrayed them in white raiment of fine linen; and 'when the women were thus adorned, they seemed to be a terror one to the other, for that they could not see that glory each one on herself which they could see in each other. Now, therefore, they began to esteem each other better than themselves.'127 'The Interpreter led them into his garden, where was great variety of flowers. Then said he, Behold, the flowers are diverse in stature, in quality and colour, and smell and virtue, and some are better than some; also, where the gardener hath set them, there they stand, and quarrel not with one another:128 'When Christians stand every one in their places, and do their relative work, then they are like the flowers in the garden that grow where the gardener hath planted them, and both honour the gardener and the garden in which they are planted.'129 In the same treatise on Christian Behaviour, similar sentiments are expressed in language extremely striking and beautiful. 'The doctrine of the gospel is like the dew and the small rain that distilleth upon the tender grass, wherewith it doth flourish and is kept green (De 32:2).Christians are like the several flowers in a garden that have upon each of them the dew of heaven, which, being shaken with the wind, they let fall their dew at each other's roots, whereby they are jointly nourished, and become nourishers of one another. For Christians to commune savourly of God's matters one with another, it is as if they opened to each other's nostrils boxes of perfume:130 Similar peaceful, heavenly principles, flow through Bunyan's Discourse of the Building, &c., of the House of God and its inmates;131 and blessed would it be if in all our churches every believer was baptized into such motives of forbearance and brotherly love. These sentiments do honour to the head and heart of the prince of allegorists, and should be presented in letters of gold to every candidate for church fellowship. A young man entertaining such opinions as these, however rude his former conduct, being born again to spiritual enjoyments, would become a treasure to the Christian society with which he might be connected.

127 Vol. iii., p.190.

128 Vol. iii., p. 186.

129 Bunyan on Christian Behaviour, vol. ii., p. 550.

130 Vol. ii., p. 570.

131 Vol. ii., p. 585.

In ordinary cases, the minister or people who have been useful to a young convert, lead him in his first choice of Christian associates; but here we have no ordinary man. Bunyan, in all things pertaining to religion, followed no human authority, but submitted himself to the guidance of the inspired volume. Possessing a humble hope of salvation, he would read with deep interest that 'the Lord added to the church such as should be saved.' The question which has so much puzzled the learned, as to a church or the church, would be solved without difficulty by one who was as learned in the Scriptures as he was ignorant of the subtle distinctions and niceties of the schools. He found that there was one church at Jerusalem (Ac 8:1), another at Corinth (1Co 1:2), seven in Asia (Re 1:4), and others distributed over the world; that 'the visible church of Christ is a (or every) congregation of faithful men.'132 He well knew that uniformity is a fool's paradise; that though man was made in the image of God; it derogates not from the beauty of that image that no two men are alike. The stars show forth God's handy work, yet 'one star different from another star in glory' (1Co 15:41). Uniformity is opposed to every law of nature, for no two leaves upon a majestic tree are alike. Who but an idiot or a maniac would attempt to reduce the mental powers of all men to uniformity? Every church may have its own order of public worship while the Scriptures form the standard of truth and morals. Where differences of opinion occur, as they most certainly will, as to the observance of days or abstinence from meats—whether to stand, or sit, or kneel, in prayer—whether to stand while listening to some pages of the inspired volume, and to sit while others are publicly read—whether to call Jude a saint, and refuse the title to Isaiah—are questions which should bring into active exercise all the graces of Christian charity; and, in obedience to the apostolic injunction, they must agree to differ. 'Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind' (Ro 14:5). Human arts have been exhausted to prevent that mental exercise or self-persuasion which is essential to a Christian profession. The great object of Satan has ever been to foster indifference, that deadly lethargy, by leading man to any source of information rather than prayerful researches into the Bible. Bunyan's severe discipline in Christ's school would lead him to form a judgment for himself; he was surrounded by a host of sects, and, with such a Bible-loving man, it is an interesting inquiry what party he would join.

132 The Nineteenth Article.

He lived in times of extraordinary excitement. England was in a transition state. A long chain of events brought on a crisis which involved the kingdom in tribulation. It was the struggle between the unbridled despotism of Epsicopacy, and the sturdy liberty of Puritanism. For although the immediate cause of the civil wars was gross misgovernment—arbitrary taxation without the intervention of Parliament, monopolies and patents, to the ruin of trade; in fact, every abuse of the royal power—still, without the additional spur of religious persecution, the spirit of the people would never have proved invincible and overpowering. The efforts of Archbishop Laud, aided by the queen and her popish confessor, Panzani, to subjugate Britain to the galling yoke of Rome, signally failed, involving in the ruin the life of the king and his archbishop, and all the desolating calamities of intestine wars, strangely called 'civil.' In this strife many of the clergy and most of the bishops took a very active part, aiding and abetting the king's party in their war against the parliament—and they thus brought upon themselves great pains and penalties. The people became suddenly released from mental bondage; and if the man who had been born blind, when he first received the blessing of sight, 'saw men as trees walking,' we cannot be surprised that religious speculations were indulged in, some of which proved to be crude and wild, requiring much vigorous persuasive pruning before they produced good fruit. Bunyan was surrounded by all these parties; for although the rights of conscience were not recognized—the Papists and Episcopalians, the Baptists and Unitarians, with the Jews, being proscribed—yet the hand of persecution was comparatively light. Had Bunyan chosen to associate with the Episcopalians, he would not have passed through those severe sufferings on which are founded his lasting honours. The Presbyterians and Independents received the patronage of the state under the Commonwealth, and the great mass of the clergy conformed to the directory, many of them reciting the prayers they had formerly read; while a considerable number, whose conscience could not submit to the system then enforced by law, did, to their honour, resign their livings, and suffer the privations and odium of being Dissenters. Among these were necessarily included the bishops.133

133 The sufferings of the Episcopalians were severe; they drank the bitter cup which they had shortly before administered to the Puritans. Under suspicion of disloyalty to the Commonwealth, they were most unjustly compelled to swallow the Covenant as a religious test, or leave preaching and teaching. Their miseries were not to be compared with those of the Puritans. Laud was beheaded for treason, but none were put to death for nonconformity. It was an age when religious liberty was almost unknown. These sufferings were repaid by an awful retaliation and revenge, when Royalty and Episcopacy were restored.

Of all sects that of the Baptists had been the most bitterly written against and persecuted. Even their first cousins, the Quakers, attacked them in language that would, in our peaceful days, be considered outrageous. 'The Baptists used to meet in garrets, cheese-lofts, coal-holes, and such like mice walks,'—'theses tumultuous, blood-thirsty, covenant-breaking, government-destroying Anabaptists.'134 The offence that called forth these epithets was, that in addressing Charles II on his restoration, they stated that "they were no abettors of the Quakers." Had royal authority possessed the slightest influence over Bunyan's religious opinions, the question as to his joining the Baptists would have been settled without investigation. Among other infatuations of Charles I, had been his hatred of any sect that professed the right and duty of man to think for himself in choosing his way to heaven. In 1639 he published his 'Declaration concerning the tumults in Scotland,' when violence was resorted to against the introduction of the Common Prayer in which he denounced voluntary obedience because it was not of constraint, and called it `damnable'; he calls the principles of the Anabaptists, in not submitting their consciences to human laws, 'furious frenzies,' and `madness'; all Protestants are 'to detest and persecute them'; 'these Anabaptists raged most in their madness'; 'the scandal of their frenzies'; 'we are amazed at, and aggrieved at their horrible impudence'; 'we do abhor and detest them all as rebellious and treasonable.''135 This whole volume is amusingly assuming. The king claims his subjects as personal chattels, with whose bodies and minds he had a right to do as he pleased. Bunyan owed no spiritual submission to man, 'whose breath is in his nostrils'; and risking all hazards, he became one of the denounced and despised sect of Baptists. To use the language of his pilgrim, he passed the lions, braving all the dangers of an open profession of faith in Christ, and entered the house called Beautiful, which 'was built by the Lord of the hill, on purpose to entertain such pilgrims in.'136 He first gains permission of the watchman, or minister, and then of the inmates, or church members. This interesting event is said to have taken place about the year 1653.137 Mr. Doe, in The Struggler, thus refers to it, Bunyan 'took all advantages to ripen his understanding in religion, and so he lit on the dissenting congregation of Christians at Bedford, and was, upon confession of faith, baptized about the year 1653,'138 when he was in the twenty-fifth year of his age. No minutes of the proceedings of this church, prior to the death of Mr. Gifford in 1656,139 are extant, or they would identify the exact period when Bunyan's baptism and admission to the church took place. The spot where he was baptized is a creek by the river Ouse, at the end of Duck Mill Lane. It is a natural baptistery, a proper width and depth of water constantly fresh; pleasantly situated; sheltered from the public highway near the High Street. The Lord's Supper was celebrated in a large room in which the disciples met, the worship consecrating the place.140

134 Penn's Christian Quaker.

135 Folio, p. 417.

136 Vol. iii., p. 10 7.

137 Vol. iii., p. 765. The author of Bunyan's Life, published in 1690, dates his baptism 'about the year 1653.'

138 Life from his Cradle to his Grave, 1700.

139 September 21.

140 In the same year, and about the same period, Oliver Cromwell was made Lord Protector. Upon this coincidence, Mr. Carlisle uses the following remarkable language:—'Two common men thus elevated, putting their hats upon their heads, might exclaim, "God enable me to be king of what lies under this! For eternities lie under it, and infinities, and heaven also and hell! and it is as big as the universe, this kingdom; and I am to conquer it, or be for ever conquered by it. Now, WHILE IT IS CALLED TO-DAY!"

Religious feelings and conduct have at all times a tendency to promote the comfort, and elevate the character of the poor. How often have we seen them thus blessed; the ragged family comfortably clothed, the hungry fed, and the inmates of a dirty miserable cottage or hovel become a pattern of cleanly happiness. One of Bunyan's biographers, who was an eyewitness, bears this testimony. 'By this time his family was increased, and as that increased God increased his stores, so that he lived now in great credit among his neighbours.' He soon became a respectable member of civil as well as religious society; for, by the time that he joined the church, his Christian character was so fully established, that, notwithstanding the meanness of his origin and employment, he was considered worthy of uniting in a memorial to the Lord Protector. It was to recommend two gentlemen to form part of the council, after Cromwell had dissolved the Long Parliament. It is a curious document, very little known, and illustrative of the peculiar style of these eventful times.

Letter from the people of Bedfordshire to the Lord Generall Cromwell, and the Councell of the army.

                                                    May 13, 1653.

May it please your Lordship, and the rest of the council of the army. We (we trust) servants of Jesus Christ, inhabitants in the county of Bedford, haveing fresh upon our hearts the sadde oppressions we have (a long while) groan'd under from the late parlayment, and now eyeing and owning (through grace) the good hand of God in this great turne of providence, being persuaded that it is from the Lord that you should be instrument in his hand at such a time as this, for the electing of such persons whoe may goe in and out before his people in righteousnesse, and governe these nations in judgment, we having sought the Lord for yow, and hopeing that God will still doe greate things by yow, understanding that it is in your hearte through the Lord's assistance, to establish an authority consisting of men able, loveing truth, feareing God, and hateing covetouseness; and we having had some experience of men with us, we have judged it our duty to God, to yow, and to the rest of his people, humbly to present two men, viz., Nathaniell Taylor, and John Croke, now Justices of Peace in our County, whom we judge in the Lord qualified to manage a trust in the ensuing government. All which we humbly referre to your serious considerations, and subscribe our names this 13th day of May, 1653—

John Eston Clement Berridge Isaac Freeman
John Grewe John Bunyan William Dell
John Gifford William Baker, Jr. William Wheelar

Ja. Rush Anth. Harrington John Gibbs

Tho. Varrse Richard Spensley John Donne
Michael Cooke Edward Covinson Tho. Gibbs
John Ramsay John Hogge Edward White
Robert English John Jeffard John Browne
John Edridge John Ivory John White
George Gee Daniell Groome Charles Peirse
Ambrose Gregory Luke Parratt Thomas Cooke William Page Thomas Knott Thomas Honnor

These to the Lord Generall Cromwell, and the rest of the councell of the army, present.141

141 In possession of the Society of Antiquities.  

Bunyan's daughter Elizabeth was born at Elstow, April 14, 1654, and a singular proof of his having changed his principles on baptism appears in the church register. His daughter Mary was baptized in 1650, but his Elizabeth in 1654 is registered as born, but no mention is made of baptism.

The poor harassed pilgrim having been admitted into communion with a Christian church, enjoyed fully, for a short season, his new privileges. He thus expresses his feelings:—'After I had propounded to the church that my desire was to walk in the order and ordinances of Christ with them, and was also admitted by them: while I thought of that blessed ordinance of Christ, which was his last supper with his disciples before his death, that scriptures, "this do in remembrance of me," was made a very precious word unto me; for by it the Lord came down upon my conscience with the discovery of his death for my sins: and as I then felt, did as if he plunged me in the virtue of the same.,142

142 Vol. i., p. 39.

In this language we have an expression which furnishes a good sample of his energetic feelings. He had been immersed in water at his baptism, and doubtless believed it to be a figure of his death to sin and resurrection to holiness; and when he sat at the Lord's table he felt that he was baptized into the virtue of his Lord's death; he is plunged into it, and feels the holy influence covering his soul with all its powers.

His pastor, John Gifford, was a remarkably pious and sensible man, exactly fitted to assist in maturing the mind of his young member. Bunyan had, for a considerable time, sat under his ministry, and had cultivated acquaintance with the members of his church; and so prayerfully had he made up his mind as to this important choice of a church, with which he might enter into fellowship, that, although tempted by the most alluring prospects of greater usefulness, popularity, and emolument, he continued his church fellowship with these poor people through persecution and distress, imprisonment and the threats of transportation, or an ignominious death, until he crossed the river 'which has no bridge,' and ascended to the celestial city, a period of nearly forty years. Of the labours of his first pastor, John Gifford, but little is known, except that he founded the church of Christ at Bedford, probably the first, in modern times, which allowed to every individual freedom of judgment as to water baptism; receiving all those who decidedly appeared to have put on Christ, and had been received by him; but avoiding, with godly jealousy, any mixture of the world with the church. Mr. Gifford's race was short, consistent, and successful. Bunyan calls him by an appellation, very probably common in his neighbourhood and among his flock, 'holy Mr. Gifford';143 a title infinitely superior to all the honours of nobility, or of royalty. He was a miracle of mercy and grace, for a very few years before he had borne the character of an impure and licentious man—an open enemy to the saints of God. His pastoral letter, left upon record in the church-book, written when drawing near the end of his pilgrimage, is most admirable; it contains an allusion to his successors, Burton or Bunyan, and must have had a tendency in forming their views of a gospel church. Even Mr. Southey praises this puritanic epistle as exemplifying 'a wise and tolerant and truly Christian spirit': and as it has not been published in any life of Bunyan, I venture to introduce it without abridgement:—

143 Vol. i., p. 20.

To the Church over which God made me an overseer when I was in the world.

I beseech you, brethren beloved, let these following words (wrote in my love to you, and care over you, when our heavenly Father was removing me to the kingdom of his dear Son), be read in your church-gatherings together. I shall not now, dearly beloved, write unto you about that which is the first, and without which all other things are as nothing in the sight of God, viz., the keeping the mystery of the faith in a pure conscience; I shall not, I say, write of these things, though the greatest, having spent my labours among you, to root you and build you up in Christ through the grace you have received; and to press you to all manner of holiness in your conversations, that you may be found of the Lord, without spot, and blameless, at His coming. But the things I shall speak to you of, are about your CHURCH AFFAIRS, which I fear have been little considered by most of you; which things, if not mended aright, and submitted unto, according to the will of God, will by degrees bring you under divisions, distractions, and at last, to confusion of that gospel order and fellowship which now, through grace, you enjoy. Therefore, my brethren, in the first place, I would not have any of you ignorant of this, that every one of you are as much bound now to walk with the church in all love; and in the ordinances of Jesus Christ our Lord, as when I was present among you: neither have any of you liberty to join yourselves to any other society, because your pastor is removed from you; for you were not joined to the ministry, but to Christ, and the church; and this is and was the will of God in Christ to all the churches of the saints, read Ac 2:42; and compare it with Ac 1:14-15. And I charge you before the Lord, as you will answer it at the coming of our Lord Jesus, that none of you be found guilty herein.

Secondly. Be constant in your church assemblies. Let all the work which concerns the church be done faithfully among you; as admission of members, exercising of gifts, election of officers, as need requires, and all other things as if named, which the Scriptures being searched, will lead you into, through the Spirit; which things, if you do, the Lord will be with you, and you will convince others that Christ is your head, and your dependency is not upon man; but if you do the work of the Lord negligently, if you mind your own things and not the things of Christ, if you grow of indifferent spirits, whether you mind the work of the Lord in his church or no, I fear the Lord by degrees will suffer the comfort of your communion to be dried up, and the candlestick which is yet standing to be broken in pieces; which God forbid.

Now, concerning your admission of members, I shall leave you to the Lord for counsel, who hath hitherto been with you; only thus much I think expedient to stir up your remembrance in; that after you are satisfied in the work of grace in the party you are to join with, the said party do solemnly declare (before some of the church at least), That Union with Christ is the foundation of all saints' communion; and not any ordinances of Christ, or any judgment or opinion about externals; and the said party ought to declare, whether a brother or sister, that through grace they will walk in love with the church, though there should happen any difference in judgment about other things. Concerning separation from the church about baptism, laying on of hands, anointing with oil, psalms, or any externals, I charge every one of you respectively, as you will give an account for it to our Lord Jesus Christ, who shall judge both quick and dead at his coming, that none of you be found guilty of this great evil; which, while some have committed, and that through a zeal for God, yet not according to knowledge, they have erred from the law of the love of Christ, and have made a rent from the true church, which is but one. I exhort you, brethren, in your comings together, Let all things be done decently, and in order, according to the Scriptures. Let all things be done among you without strife and envy, without self-seeking and vain-glory. Be clothed with humility, and submit to one another in love. Let the gifts of the church be exercised according to order. Let no gift be concealed which is for edification; yet let those gifts be chiefly exercised which are most for the perfecting of the saints. Let your discourses be to build up one another in your most holy faith, and to provoke one another to love and good works: if this be not well-minded, much time may be spent and the church reap little or no advantage. Let there be strong meat for the strong, and milk for babes. In your assemblies avoid all disputes which gender to strife, as questions about externals, and all doubtful disputations. If any come among you who will be contentious in these things, let it be declared that you have no such order, nor any of the churches of God. If any come among you with any doctrine contrary to the doctrine of Christ, you must not treat with such an one as with a brother, or enter into dispute of the things of faith with reasonings (for this is contrary to the Scriptures); but let such of the brethren who are the fullest of the Spirit, and the word of Christ, oppose such an one steadfastly face to face, and lay open his folly to the church, from the Scriptures. If a brother through weakness speak anything contrary to any known truth of God (though not intended by him), some other brother of the church must in love clear up the truth, lest many of the church be laid under temptation. Let no respect of persons be in your comings-together; when you are met as a church there's neither rich nor poor, bond nor free in Christ Jesus. `Tis not a good practice to be offering places or seats when those who are rich come in; especially it is a great evil to take notice of such in time of prayer, or the word; then are bowings and civil observances at such times not of God. Private wrongs are not presently to be brought unto the church. If any of the brethren are troubled about externals, let some of the church (let it not be a church business) pray for and with such parties.

None ought to withdraw from the church if any brother should walk disorderly, but he that walketh disorderly must bear his own burden, according to the Scriptures. If any brother should walk disorderly, he cannot be shut out from any ordinance before church censure. Study among yourselves what is the nature of fellowship, as the word,144 prayer, and breaking of bread; which, whilst few, I judge, seriously consider, there is much falling short of duty in the churches of Christ. You that are most eminent in profession, set a pattern to all the rest of the church. Let your faith, love, and zeal, be very eminent; if any of you cast a dim light, you will do much hurt in the church. Let there be kept up among you solemn days of prayer and thanksgiving; and let some time be set apart, to seek God for your seeds, which thing hath hitherto been omitted. Let your deacons have a constant stock by them, to supply the necessity of those who are in want. Truly, brethren, there is utterly a fault among you that are rich, especially in this thing, `tis not that little which comes from you on the first day of the week that will excuse you. I beseech you, be not found guilty of this sin any longer. He that sows sparingly will reap sparingly. Be not backward in your gatherings-together; let none of you willingly stay till part of the meeting be come,145 especially such who should be examples to the flock. One or two things are omitted about your comings-together, which I shall here add. I beseech you, forbear sitting in prayer, except parties be any way disabled; `tis not a posture which suits with the majesty of such an ordinance. Would you serve your prince so? In prayer, let all self-affected expressions be avoided, and all vain repetitions. God hath not gifted, I judge, every brother to be a mouth to the church. Let such as have most of the demonstration of the Spirit and of power, shut up all your comings-together, that ye may go away with your hearts comforted and quickened.

144 Reading and Preaching.

145 Not to wait for one another, each one to come in good time.

Come together in time, and leave off orderly; for God is a God of order among his saints. Let none of you give offence to his brethren in indifferent things, but be subject to one another in love. Be very careful what gifts you approve of by consent for public service.

Spend much time before the Lord, about choosing a pastor, for though I suppose he is before you,146 whom the Lord hath appointed, yet it will be no disadvantage to you, I hope, if you walk a year or two as you are before election; and then, if you be all agreed, let him be set apart, according to the Scriptures. Salute the brethren who walk not in fellowship with you, with the same love and name of brother or sister as those who do.

146 Alluding to Bunyan, or his co-pastor, Burton, or to both of them.

Let the promises made to be accomplished in the latter days, be often urged before the Lord in your comings-together; and forget not your brethren in bonds. Love him much for the work's sake, who labours over you in the word and doctrine. Let no man despise his youth.147 Muzzle not the mouth of the ox that treads out the corn to you. Search the Scriptures; let some of them be read to you about this thing. If your teacher at any time be laid aside, you ought to meet together as a church, and build up one another. If the members at such a time will go to a public ministry, it must first be approved of by the church. Farewell; exhort, counsel, support, reprove one another in love.

147 Bunyan was about twenty-seven years of age.

Finally, brethren, be all of one mind, walk in love one to another, even as Christ Jesus hath loved you, and given himself for you. Search the Scriptures for a supply of those things wherein I am wanting. Now the God of peace, who raised up our Lord Jesus Christ from the dead, multiply his peace upon you, and preserve you to his everlasting kingdom by Jesus Christ. Stand fast: the Lord is at hand.

That this was written by me, I have set my name to it, in the presence of two of the brethren of the church.

John Gifford (Signature - see book)148

148 This letter was copied into the church records at the time: the original cannot be found. It was published with Ryland's Funeral Sermon on Symonds, 1788, and in Jukes' very interesting account of Bunyan's church, in 1849. The signature is copied from an original in the Milton State Papers, library of the Antiquarian Society.

Bunyan was now settled under the happiest circumstances, and doubtless looked forward to much religious enjoyment. A pious wife—peace in his soul—a most excellent pastor, and in full communion with a Christian church. Alas! his enjoyments were soon interrupted; again a tempest was to agitate his mind, that he might be more deeply humbled and prepared to become a Barnabas or son of consolation to the spiritually distressed.

It is a remarkable fact, that upon the baptism of our Lord, after that sublime declaration of Jehovah—'this is my beloved Son,' Jesus was led into the wilderness, to be tempted of the devil.' As it was with their leader, so it frequently happens to his followers. After having partaken, for the first time, of the holy enjoyments of the Lord's table—tending to exalt and elevate them, they are often abased and humbled in their own esteem, by the assaults of Satan and his temptations, aided by an evil heart of unbelief. Thus Christian having been cherished in the house called Beautiful, and armed for the conflict, descended into the Valley of Humiliation, encountered Apollyon in deadly combat, and walked through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. 'For three quarters of a year, fierce and said temptations did beset me to blasphemy, that I could never have rest nor ease. But at last the Lord came in upon my soul with that same scripture, by which my soul was visited before; and after that, I have been usually very well and comfortable in the partaking of that blessed ordinance; and have, I trust, therein discerned the Lord's body, as broken for my sins, and that his precious blood hath been shed for my transgressions.'149 This is what Bunyan calls, 'the soul killing to itself its sins, its righteousness, wisdom, resolutions, and the things which it trusted in by nature'; and then receiving 'a most glorious, perfect, and never-fading life.' The life of Christ in all its purity and perfections imputed to me—'Sometimes I bless the Lord my soul hath had this life not only imputed to me, but the very glory of it upon my soul—the Son of God himself in his own person, now at the right hand of his Father representing me complete before the mercy-seat in his ownself."There was my righteousness just before the eyes of Divine glory.'150

149 Vol. i., p. 39.

150 Vol. i., p. 545.

About this period his robust hardy frame gave way under the attack of disease, and we have to witness his feelings when the king of terrors appeared to be beginning his deadly work. Whether the fiery trials, the mental tempest through which he had passed, were too severe for his bodily frame, is not recorded. His narrative is, that, 'Upon a time I was somewhat inclining to a consumption, wherewith, about the spring I was suddenly and violently seized, with much weakness in my outward man; insomuch that I thought I could not live.'151 This is slightly varied in his account of this illness in his Law and Grace. He there says, 'having contracted guilt upon my soul, and having some distemper of body upon me, I supposed that death might now so seize upon, as to take me away from among men.152 These serious considerations led to a solemn investigation of his hopes. His having been baptized, his union to a church, the good opinion of his fellowmen, are not in the slightest degree relied upon as evidences of the new birth, or of a death to sin and resurrection to holiness.' Now began I afresh to give myself up to a serious examination after my state and condition for the future, and of my evidences for that blessed world to come: for it hath, I bless the name of God, been my usual course, as always, so especially in the day of affliction, to endeavour to keep my interest in the life to come, clear before my eye.

151 Grace Abounding, No. 255, vol. i., p. 39.

152 Vol. i., p. 545.

`But I had no sooner began to recall to mind my former experience of the goodness of God to my soul, but there came flocking into my mind an innumerable company of my sins and transgressions: amongst which these were at this time most to my affliction, namely, my deadness, dullness, and coldness in holy duties; my wanderings of heart, my wearisomeness in all good things, my want of love to God, his ways and people, with this at the end of all, "Are these the fruits of Christianity? Are these the tokens of a blessed man?"

`At the apprehension of these things my sickness was doubled upon me, for now was I sick in my inward man, my soul was clogged with guilt; now also was my former experience of God's goodness to me quite taken out of my mind, and hid as if it had never been, nor seen. Now was my soul greatly pinched between these two considerations, "Live I must not, die I dare not." Now I sunk and fell in my spirit, and was giving up all for lost; but as I was walking up and down in my house, as a man in a most woeful state, that word of God took hold of my heart, Ye are "justified freely by his grace, through the redemption that is in Jesus Christ" (Ro 3:24). But 0! what a turn it made upon me!

`Now was I as one awakened out of some troublesome sleep and dream; and listening to this heavenly sentence, I was as if I had heard it thus expounded to me:—"Sinner, thou thinkest, that because of thy sins and infirmities, I cannot save thy soul; but behold my Son is by me, and upon him I look, and not on thee, and will deal with thee according as I am pleased with him." At this I was greatly lightened in my mind, and made to understand, that God could justify a sinner at any time; it was but his looking upon Christ, and imputing of his benefits to us, and the work was forthwith done.'153

153 Grace Abounding, No 255-259, vol. i., p. 39.

`Now was I got on high, I saw myself within the arms of grace and mercy; and though I was before afraid to think of a dying hour, yet now I cried, Let me die. Now death was lovely and beautiful in my sight, for I saw that we shall never live indeed, till we be gone to the other world. I saw more in those words, "Heirs of God" (Ro 8:17), than ever I shall be able to express. "Heirs of God," God himself is the portion of his saints.'154

154 Vol. i., p. 40.

As his mental agitation subsided into this delicious calm, his bodily health was restored; to use his own figure, Captain Consumption, with all his men of death, were155 routed, and

155 Vol. iii., p. 655.

his strong bodily health trimphed over disease; or, to use the more proper language of an eminent Puritan, 'When overwhelmed with the deepest sorrows, and that for many doleful months, he who is Lord of nature healed my body, and he who is the Father of mercies and God of all grace has proclaimed liberty to the captive, and given rest to my weary soul.'156 Here we have a key to the most eventful picture in the Pilgrim's Progress—The Valley of the Shadow of Death—which is placed in the midst of the journey. When in the prime of life, death looked at him and withdrew for a season. It was the shadow of death that came over his spirit.

156 Rogers on Trouble of Mind.

The church at Bedford having increased, Bunyan was chosen to fill the honourable office of a deacon. No man could have been better fitted for that office than Bunyan was. He was honesty itself, had suffered severe privations, so as to feel for those who were pinched with want; he had great powers of discrimination, to distinguish between the poverty of idleness, and that distress which arises from circumstances over which human foresight has no control, so as to relieve with propriety the pressure of want, without encouraging the degrading and debasing habit of depending upon alms, instead of labouring to provide the necessaries of life. He had no fine clothes to be spoiled by trudging down the filthiest lanes, and entering the meanest hovels to relieve suffering humanity. The poor—and that is the great class to whom the gospel is preached, and by whom it is received—would hail him as a brother. Gifted in prayer, full of sound and wholesome counsel drawn from holy writ, he must have been a peculiar blessing to the distressed, and to all the members who stood in need of advice and assistance. Such were the men intended by the apostles, 'men of honest report, full of the Holy Ghost and wisdom' (Ac 6:3), whom the church were to select, to relieve the apostles from the duties of ministration to the wants of the afflicted members, in the discharge of which they had given offence.

While thus actively employed, he was again visited with a severe illness, and again was subject to a most searching and solemn investigation as to his fitness to appear before the judgment-seat of God. 'All that time the tempter did beset me strongly, labouring to hide from me my former experience of God's goodness; setting before me the terrors of death, and the judgment of God, insomuch that at this time, through my fear of miscarrying for ever, should I now die, I was as one dead before death came; I thought that there was no way but to hell I must.'157

157 Grace Abounding, No. 260.

`A wounded spirit who can bear.' Well might the apostle say, 'If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable' (1Co 15:19). Bunyan had enjoyed holy emotions full of glory, and now the devil was threatening him, not only with the loss of heaven, but the terrors of hell. The Puritan, Rogers, describes religious melancholy as 'the worst of all distempers, and those sinking and guilty fears which it brings along with it are inexpressibly dreadful; what anguish, what desolation! I dare not look to heaven; there I see the greatness of God, who is against me. I dare not look into his Word; for there I see all his threats, as so many barbed arrows to strike me to the heart. I dare not look into the grave; because thence I am like to have a doleful resurrection; in this doleful night the soul hath no evidence at all of its former grace.'158 Bunyan's experience reminds us of the impressive language of Job—a book full of powerful imagery and magnificent ideas, in which Bunyan delighted, calling it 'that blessed book.'159 Job goes on, from step to step, describing his mental wretchedness, until he rises to a climax, God `runneth upon me like a giant' (Job 16:7-22). 'Thou huntest me as a fierce lion' (Job 10:16). 'The arrows of the Almighty are within me; they drink up my spirit: the terrors of God do set themselves in array against me' (Job 6:4). Poor Bunyan, in the depth of his distress, cried unto God, and was heard and relieved from these soul troubles. He recollected the

158 1st edition, p. 355.

159 Vol. ii., p. 425.

joyful ascent of Lazarus from the extreme of human misery to the height of celestial enjoyments. His spirit was sweetly revived, and he was enabled, with delight, to hope yet in God, when that word fell with great weight upon his mind, '0 death, where is thy sting? 0 grave, where is thy victory?' At this he became both well in body and mind at once; his sickness did presently vanish, and he again walked comfortably in his work for God.'160 The words, `by grace are ye saved,' followed him through the rest of his pilgrimage. His consolation was, that 'a little true grace will go a great way; yea, and do more wonders than we are aware of. If we have but grace enough to keep us groaning after God, it is not all the world that can destroy us.'161 He had now become deeply instructed in the school of Christ, and was richly furnished with the weapons of spiritual warfare; 'a scribe instructed into the kingdom of heaven, like unto a man that is an householder, which bringeth forth out of his treasure things new and old' (Mt 13:12). Or, as 'the man of God, perfected, thoroughly furnished unto all good works' (2Ti 3:17). It was powerfully impressed upon his mind that all his inward conflicts were to be made use of in preparing him to instruct others. All the events of his Saviour's life passed before his mind as if he had stood by as a witness to his birth—his walking with his disciples; his wondrous parables and stupendous miracles; his mental and bodily sufferings; his sacrifice, burial, ascension, intercession, and final judgment; all passed in vivid review before the eye of his mind; and then, he says, 'as I was musing with myself what these things should mean, methought I heard such a word in my heart as this, I have set thee down on purpose, for I have something more than ordinary for thee to do'; which made me the more to marvel, saying, `What, my Lord, such a poor wretch as I?'162 Such was his inward call to the ministry; and it being attended with the three requisites usually

160 Vol. i., p. 40.

161 Vol. i., p. 769.

162 Vol. i., p. 549.

insisted on among Dissenters—ability, inclination, and opportunity—he was sent out as an itinerant preacher in the surrounding villages in 1655, and laid the foundation of many churches, which now flourish to the praise of the glory of Divine grace. In some of these villages the gospel had never before been preached; they were strongholds of Satan. These were fit places for the full display of his intrepid energy.

After thus preaching and much suffering, for fifteen years, he was appointed to the pastoral office, or eldership.163 Can a man enter upon the work of the ministry from a better school than this? Deeply versed in scriptural knowledge; thoroughly humbled by the assaults of sin and Satan; aware of his devices; with a keen perception of the value of the soul; its greatness; and, if lost, the causes and the unspeakable extent of its loss. Solemnly devout and fluent in prayer; ready in conversation upon heavenly things; speaking the truth without fear of consequences, yet avoiding unnecessary offence; first speaking in the church-meeting, and then more extensively in barns, or woods, or dells, to avoid the informers.164 Such was his training; romantic dell, where, in the still hours of midnight, the saints of God were wont to meet and unite in Divine worship. It is a most romantic dell, in Wain-wood, which crowns a hill about three miles from Hitchin. We had some difficulty in making our way through the underwood—crushing the beautiful hyacinths and primroses which covered the ground in the richest profusion, and near the top of the hill came suddenly upon this singular dell—a natural little eminence formed the pulpit, while the dell would hold under its shade at least a thousand people—and now I must give you the countryman's eloquent description of the meetings of his ancestors. "Here, under the canopy of heaven, with the rigour of winter's nipping frost, while the clouds, obscuring the moon, have discharged their flaky treasures, they often assembled while the highly-gifted and heavenly-minded Bunyan has broken to them the bread of life. The word of the Lord was precious in those days. And here over his devoted head, while uncovered in prayer, the pious matrons warded off the driving hail and snow, by holding a shawl over him by its four corners. In this devoted dell these plain unpolished husbandmen, like the ancient Waldenses, in the valleys of Piedmont, proved themselves firm defenders of the faith in its primitive purity, and of Divine worship in its primitive style."

163 Church Book, 1671.

164 This secrecy became needful after the Restoration, as noticed more fully afterwards, p. lix. During those years of persecution, a frequent place of resort was a dell in Wain-wood, about three miles from Hitchin. Of this locality the following notice will be acceptable:—On the 19th of May, 1853, a splendidly hot day, my pilgrimage to the shrines of Bunyan was continued at Hitchin and its vicinity, in company with S. B. Geard, Esq. Here it was my honour to shake hands with honest Edward Foster, whose grandfather often entertained and sheltered John Bunyan. So singular a case I had never met with, that three lives should connect, in a direct line, evidence of transactions which occurred at a distance of 190 years. His grandfather was born in 1642, and for many years was a friend and companion of the illustrious dreamer. In 1706, when he was sixty-four years of age, his youngest son was born, and in 1777, when that son was seventy-one years of age, his youngest son was born, and in 1853 he has the perfect use of limbs and faculties, and properly executes the important office of assistant overseer to his extensive parish. With such direct testimony, we visited the very peace, and things wherewith one may edify another, that so living and walking in love and peace, the God of love and peace may be with us. Amen.'

This was probably drawn by Bunyan, and so simple and comprehensive has it proved, that the church has flourished, and lately a spacious and handsome place of worship has been erected, to accommodate a thousand worshippers, at a cost of £3000, all paid for, with a surplus fund in hand for contingencies, of £500. In addition, there are also large and commodious chapels for the Independents, Wesleyans, and Quakers.

Their horses on which they rode, from various parts, were sheltered in neighbouring friendly farms, while they, to avoid suspicion, ascended the hill by scarcely visible footpaths. Could fine weather be insured, it would form a lovely spot for a meeting to celebrate the third jubilee of religious toleration—there listen to a Bunyan of our age, and devise measures for religious equality. Then we might close the service by solemnly objuring every system which gave power to tyrannise over the rights of conscience. Here, as in other places where Bunyan founded churches, the cause of Christ hath spread. At Hitchin, in 1681, about thirty-five Christians united in the following covenant:—

`We who, through the mercy of God, and our Lord Jesus Christ, have obtained grace to give ourselves to the Lord, and one to another by the will of God, to have communion with one another, as saints in one gospel fellowship:—Do, before God our Father, and our Lord Jesus Christ, and the holy angels, agree and promise to walk together in this one gospel communion and fellowship as a church of Jesus Christ, in love to the Lord and one to another, and endeavour to yield sincere and hearty obedience to the laws, ordinances, and appointments of our Lord and Lawgiver in his church. And also do agree and promise, the Lord assisting, to follow after the things which make for and the result was, that, when permitted to proclaim the gospel publicly, thousands hung upon his words with intense feeling; numerous converts were by his means added to the church; the proud became broken-hearted, and the lowly were raised, and blessings abounded; the drunkards were made sober; thieves and covetous were reclaimed; the blasphemers were made to sing the praises of God; the desert bid fair to blossom and bring forth fruit as a garden. But, alas! his early labours were contrary to acts of parliament; the spirit of intolerance and persecution soon troubled, and eventually consigned him to a prison.

Before we bid a final farewell to Bunyan's extraordinary mental struggles with unbelief, it may be well to indulge in a few sober reflections. Are the narratives of these mighty tempests in his spirit plain matters of fact? No one can read the works of Bunyan and doubt for a moment his truthfulness. His language is that of the heart, fervent but not exaggerated, strong but a plain tale of real feelings. He says, and he believed it, 'My sins have appeared so big to me, that I thought one of my sins have been as big as all the sins of all the men in the nation; ay and of other nations too, reader; these things be not fancies, for I have smarted for this experience. It is true that Satan has the art of making the uttermost of every sin; he can blow it up, make it swell, make every hair of its head as big as a cedar;165 but yet the least stream of the heart blood of Jesus hath vanished all away and hath made it to fly, to the astonishment of such a poor sinner, and hath delivered me up into sweet and heavenly peace and joy in the Holy Ghost.'166 Some have supposed the narrative to be exaggerated, while others have attributed the disturbed state of his mind to disease; my humble belief is that the whole is a plain unvarnished account of facts; that those facts occurred while he was in full possession of all the faculties of his mind. To ascribe such powers to the invisible world by which we are constantly surrounded, does not agree with the doctrines of modern philosophers. Those holy or unholy suggestions suddenly injected, would by the world be set down as the hallucinations of a distempered imagination. Carnal relations attributed Christian's alarm to 'some frenzy distemper got into his head,' and Southey, following their example, ascribes Bunyan's hallowed feelings to his want of 'sober judgment,' his brutality and extreme ignorance,' a 'stage of burning enthusiasm,' and to 'an age in which hypocrisy was regnant, and fanaticism rampant throughout the land.'167 What a display of reigning hypocrisy and rampant fanaticism was it to see the game at cat openly played by men on Sunday, the church bells calling them to their sport!!! Had Southey been poet-laureate to Charles II, he might with equal truth have concealed the sensuality, open profaneness, and debauchery of that profligate monarch and his court of concubines, and have praised him as `the Lord's anointed.' Bunyan was an eyewitness of the state of the times in which he lived, and he associated with numbers of the poor in Bedfordshire and the adjoining counties. So truthful a man's testimony is of great value, and he proves that no miraculous reformation of manners had taken place; no regnant hypocrisy nor rampant fanaticism. In 1655, that being the brightest period of the Commonwealth, he thus 'sighs' over the state of his country:—'There are but a few places in the Bible but there are threatenings against one sinner or another; against drunkards, swearers, liars, proud persons, strumpets, whoremongers, covetous, railers, extortioners, thieves, lazy persons. In a word, all manner of sins are reproved, and there is a sore punishment to be executed on the committers of them; and all this made mention of in the Scriptures. But for all this, how thick, and by heaps, do these wretches walk up and down our streets? Do but go into the ale-houses, and you shall see almost every room besprinkled with them, so foaming out their own shame that it is enough to make the heart of a saint to tremble.'168 This was a true character of the great masses of the labouring and trading portions of the commonwealth. Let us hear his testimony also as to the most sacred profession, the clergy, in 1654:—

165 Christ a Complete Saviour, vol. i., p. 210.

166 Law and Grace, vol. i., pp. 549, 550.

167 Life of Bunyan, p. xiv.

168 Sighs, vol. iii., p. 712.

`A reason why delusions do so easily take place in the hearts of the ignorant, is, because those that pretend to be their teachers, do behave themselves so basely among them. And indeed I may say of these, as our Lord said of the Pharisees in another case, the blood of the ignorant shall be laid to their charge. They that pretend they are sent of the Lord, and come, saying, Thus saith the Lord; we are the servants of the Lord, our commission is from the Lord by succession; I say, these pretending themselves to be the preachers of truth, but are not, do, by their loose conversation, render the doctrine of God, and his Son Jesus Christ, by whom the saints are saved, contemptible, and do give the adversary mighty encouragement, to cry out against the truths of our Lord Jesus Christ, because of their wicked waling. For the most part of them, they are the men that at this day do so harden their hearers in their sins by giving them such ill examples, that none goeth beyond them for impiety. As, for example, would a parishioner learn to be proud, he or she need look no farther than to the priest, his wife, and family; for there is a notable pattern before them. Would the people learn to be wanton? they may also see a pattern among their teachers. Would they learn to be drunkards? they may also have that from some of their ministers; for indeed they are ministers in this, to minister ill example to their congregations. Again, would the people learn to be covetous? they need but look to their minister, and they shall have a lively, or rather a deadly resemblance set before them, in both riding and running after great benefices, and parsonages by night and by day. Nay, they among themselves will scramble for the same. I have seen, that so soon as a man hath but departed from his benefice as he calls it, either by death or out of covetousness of a bigger, we have had one priest from this town, and another from that, so run, for these tithe-cocks and handfuls of barley, as if it were their proper trade, and calling, to hunt after the same. 0 wonderful impiety and ungodliness! are you not ashamed of your doings? Read Ro 1 towards the end. As it was with them, so, it is to be feared, it is with many of you, who knowing the judgments of God, that they who do such things are worthy of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure also in them that do them. And now you that pretend to be the teachers of the people in verity and truth, though we know that some of you are not, is it a small thing with you to set them such an example as this? Were ever the Pharisees so profane; to whom Christ said, Ye vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell? Doth not the ground groan under you? surely, it will favour you no more than it favoured your forerunners.*** Certainly the wrath of God lies heavy at your doors, it is but a very little while, and your recompense shall be upon your own head. And as for you that are indeed of God among them, though not of them, separate yourselves. Why should the righteous partake of the same plagues with the wicked? 0 ye children of the harlot! I cannot well tell how to have done with you, your stain is so odious, and you are so senseless, as appears by your practices.'169

***Eze. xiii; read that whole chapter, and you will find it as it was a looking glass by which thou mayest notably see them with their marks and discoveries.

169 Gospel Truths, vol. ii., p. 178.

The testimony of George Fox as to England's fashions in 1654, is very pointed and extremely droll:—Men and women are carried away with fooleries and vanities; gold and silver upon their backs,170 store of ribbands hanging about the waist, knees, and feet—red or white, black or yellow; women with their gold; their spots on their faces, noses, cheeks, foreheads; rings on their fingers, cuffs double, like a butcher's white sleeves; ribbands about their hands, and three or four gold laces about their clothes; men dressed like fiddlers' boys or stage players; see them playing at bowls, or at tables, or at shovel-board, or each one decking his horse with bunches of ribbands on his head, as the rider hath on his own. These are gentlemen, and brave fellows, that say pleasures are lawful, and in their sports they should like wild asses. This is the generation carried away with pride, arrogancy, lust, gluttony, and uncleanness; who eat and drink and rise up to play, their eyes full of adultery, and their bodies of the devil's adorning. 171 Such quotations from the writings of men of undoubted veracity, and who lived during that period, might be multiplied to fill a volume.

170 Like the Beef-eaters, or yeomen of the guard at the present day.

171 Journal, folio, 1694, p. 144. Is it surprising that the Quakers, at such a time, assumed their peculiar neatness of dress?

Is this the regnant hypocrisy and rampant fanaticism which prevailed in England, and which Southey supposes to have influenced Bunyan and deranged his sober judgment? It is true that the Protector and his council discountenanced vice and folly, and that there was more piety and virtue in the kingdom at that time than it had ever before witnessed. But it would have been the greatest of miracles, had the people been suddenly moralized, after having been baptized in brutality for ages. Not a century had elapsed since the autos da fe had blazed throughout the country, burning the most pious, moral, and enlightened of her citizens. A century of misery to the professors of religions had passed, in which the persecutions of Papists and Puritans, hanging, transporting, murdering by frightful imprisonments all those who dared to dissent from the church of England. All this must have produced a debasing effect upon public morals. Even among professors Bunyan discovered pride, covetousness, impiety and uncleanness.172

172 Vol. ii., p. 178, 566.

Bunyan's religious impressions did not, as Southey states, arise from his ignorance, brutal manners, low station, nor from the fanaticism of the age in which he lived. Did the similar feeling of Job or David spring from these polluted fountains? He is a stranger to Christ's school that confounds its discipline with mental drunkenness, or with the other depraved sources alluded to by Southey. The luxurious imagination which ruled over him, must be curbed and brought into subjection to Christ. He must be weaned from a reliance upon sudden impulses to rely upon Divine truth. The discovery of errors by scriptural investigation was putting on armour of proof. Self-confidence was gradually swallowed up by dependence upon the word—the result of the severest spiritual training. Those painful exercises produced a life of holiness and usefulness. Can the thistle produce grapes, or the noxious weeds corn? Never! His experience came from heaven, in mercy to his soul, and to make him a blessing to millions of his race. By this he was made truly wise, civilized, enlightened, and elevated. Every painful feeling was measured by Divine rule—weighed in the sanctuary balance—not one iota too much or too little to form his noble character. He has been compared with Lord Byron, one of our most impassioned thinkers and writers; but the noble poet's heart-griefs were on the wrong side. Judging of his own feelings by those painted on his heroes—they fight for freedom only to gratify lust, pride, and ambition, while the future appeared in dark, dreary uncertainty. But Bunyan strives to be released from the slavery of sin and Satan, that he might enjoy the liberty of being a servant of Christ, whose service is perfect freedom, with a glorious vista of eternity occasionally breaking in upon his soul.

Well may it be said of him:—Simple, enchanting man! what does not the world owe to thee and to the great Being who could produce such as thee? Teacher alike of the infant and of the aged; who canst direct the first thought and remove the last doubt of man; property alike of the peasant and the prince; welcomed by the ignorant and honoured by the wise; thou hast translated Christianity into a new language, and that a universal one! Thou art the prose poet of all time!



In proportion as a man becomes a public character, especially if eminent for talent and usefulness in the church, so will his enemies increase. The envy of some and the malice of others will invent slanders, or, what is worse, put an evil construction upon the most innocent conduct, in the hope of throwing a shade over that brightness which reveals their own defects. In this they are aided by all the craft, and cunning, and power of Satan, the archenemy of man. The purity of gospel truth carries with it the blessed fruits of the highest order of civilization; the atmosphere in which it lives is `good will to man.' Salvation is a free gift, direct from God to the penitent sinner. It cannot be obtained by human aid, nor for all the gold in the universe. It cannot possibly be traded in, bought, or sold, but is bestowed without money or price. Hence the opposition of Antichrist. The cry or groan of the contrite enters heaven and brings down blessings, while the most elegant and elaborately-composed prayer, not springing from the heart, is read or recited in vain. Human monarchs must be approached by petitions drawn up in form, and which may be accepted, although the perfection of insincerity and hypocrisy. The King of kings accepts no forms; he knows the heart, and requires the approach of those who worship him to be in sincerity and in truth; the heart may plead without words, God accepteth the groans and sighs of those that fear him. These were the notions that Bunyan had drawn from the Holy Oracles, and his conversation soon made him a favourite with the Puritans, while it excited feelings of great hostility among the neighbouring clergy and magistrates.

Bunyan's conversion from being a pest to the neighbourhood to becoming a pious man, might have been pardoned had he conformed to the Directory; but for him to appear as a Dissenter and a public teacher, without going through the usual course of education and ordination, was an unpardonable offence. The opinions of man gave him no concern; all his anxiety was to have the approbation of his God, and then to walk accordingly, braving all the dangers, the obloquy, and contempt that might arise from his conscientious discharge of duties, for the performance of which he knew that he alone must give a solemn account at the great day.

He entered upon the serious work of the ministry with fear and trembling, with much heart-searching, earnest prayer, and the advice of the church to which he was united, not with any pledge to abide by their decision contrary to his own conviction, but to aid him in his determination. His own account of these important inquiries is very striking:—'After I had been about five or six years awakened, and helped myself to see both the want and worth of Jesus Christ our Lord, and also enabled to venture my soul upon him, some of the most able among the saints with us, for judgment and holiness of life, as they conceived, did perceive that God had counted me worthy to understand something of his will in His holy and blessed Word, and had given me utterance, in some measure, to express what I saw to others for edification; therefore they desired me, and that with much earnestness, that I would be willing at some times to take in hand, in one of the meetings, to speak a word of exhortation unto them. The which, though at the first it did much dash and abash my spirit, yet being still by them desired and entreated, I consented to their request, and did twice, at two several assemblies in private, though with much weakness and infirmity, discover my gift amongst them; at which they did solemnly protest, as in the sight of the great God, they were both affected and comforted, and gave thanks to the Father of mercies for the grace bestowed on me.

`After this, sometimes, when some of them did go into the country to teach, they would also that I should go with them; where, though as yet I did not, nor durst not, make use of my gift in an open way, yet more privately, as I came amongst the good people in those places, I did sometimes speak a word of admonition unto them also, the which they, as the other, received with rejoicing at the mercy of God to me-ward, professing their souls were edified thereby.

`Wherefore at last, being still desired by the church, after some solemn prayer to the Lord, with fasting, I was more particularly called forth, and appointed to a more ordinary and public preaching of the word, not only to and amongst them that believed, but also to offer the gospel to those who had not yet received the faith thereof.'173

173 Grace Abounding, vol. i., p. 41.

The ministry of Bunyan's pastor, whom he affectionately called holy Mr. Gifford, must have been wonderfully blessed. In 1650 only twelve pious men and women were formed into a Christian church, and, although subject to fierce persecution, they had so increased that in 1672 ten members had been solemnly set apart for the work of the ministry, and they became a blessing to the country round Bedford. The benighted state of the villages was a cause of earnest prayer that men might be sent out, apt to teach, and willing to sacrifice liberty, and even life, to promote the peaceful reign of the Redeemer. The names of the men who were thus set apart were—John Bunyan, Samuel Fenn, Joseph Whiteman, John Fenn, Oliver Scott, Luke Ashwood, Thomas Cooper, Edward Dent, Edward Isaac, and Nehemiah Coxe.174

174 Nehemiah Coxe is said to have been a descendant from Dr. Richard Coxe, preceptor to Edward VI, and Dean of Oxford. He fled from persecution under Mary, was a troubler of his brother refugees by his turbulent temper, and his attachment to superstitious ceremonies. On his return, he was made Bishop of Ely, and became a bitter persecutor. Benjamin Coxe, A.M., probably a son of the furious bishop, was as ardently fond of rites and ceremonies. He was cited to appear before Laud for denying the jure divino of bishops, and the poor bishop said, "God did so bless me that I gave him satisfaction." Mr. Coxe soon after came out as a Baptist, and having preached at Bedford, he settled in Coventry. Here he disputed with Mr. Baxter and the Presbyterians; and the Independents had him imprisoned for defending adult baptism (Crosby, History of Baptists, i. 354), a very short mode of settling the controversy. Probably Nehemiah Coxe was his son, settled at Bedford as a shoemaker. He was a learned man, and, when tried at Bedford assizes for preaching the gospel, he was indicted in the usual Norman-French, or Latin; and pleaded first in Greek, which the prosecutors not understanding, he pleaded in Hebrew, arguing, that as his indictment was in a foreign tongue, he was entitled to plead in any of the learned languages. The counsel being ignorant of those languages, and the judge glad to get rid of a vexatious indictment, dismissed him, saying to the counselors, 'Well, this cordwainer hath wound you all up, gentlemen.' This anecdote is handed down in a funeral sermon by T. Sutcliff, on the death of Symonds, one of the pastors of the church at Bedford.

Another of this little band that was set apart with Bunyan, became so useful a preacher as to have been honoured with a record in the annals of persecution in the reign of Charles II. John Fenn was on Lord's-day, May 15, 1670, committed to prison for preaching in his own house; and on Tuesday, all his goods and stock in trade were seized and carted away, leaving his family in the most desolate condition.

In the following week, Edward Isaac, a blacksmith, another of this little band, having been fined, had all his stock in trade, and even the anvil upon which he worked, seized and carted away. Such were the severe trials which these excellent citizens were, with their families, called to pass through, by the tyranny of the church; but they were light, indeed, in comparison with those that awaited the amiable and pious Bunyan.

Four of these were permitted to fulfil their course without notoriety; the others were severely persecuted, fined and imprisoned, but not forsaken.

Encouraged by the opinion of the church which had been so prayerfully formed, that it was his duty to proclaim the glad tidings of salvation, Bunyan entered upon his important work, and was soon encouraged by a hope that his labours were useful to his fellow-men. `About this time,' he narrates, 'I did evidently find in my mind a secret pricking forward thereto, though, I bless God, not for desire of vain glory, for at that time I was most sorely afflicted with the fiery darts of the devil concerning my eternal state. But yet I could not be content unless I was found in the exercise of my gift; unto which also I was greatly animated, not only by the continual desires of the godly, but also by that saying of Paul to the Corinthians, "I beseech you, brethren [ye know the household of Stephanas, that it is the first-fruits of Achaia, and that they have addicted themselves to the ministry of the saints], that ye submit yourselves unto such, and to every one that helpeth with us, and laboureth" (1Co 16:15-16).

`By this text I was made to see that the Holy Ghost never intended that men, who have gifts and abilities, should bury them in the earth, but rather did command and stir up such to the exercise of their gift, and also did commend those that were apt and ready so to do.

`Wherefore, though of myself, of all the saints the most unworthy, yet I, but with great fear and trembling at the sight of my own weakness, did set upon the work, and did according to my gift, and the proportion of my faith, preach that blessed gospel that God had showed me in the holy Word of truth; which, when the country understood, they came in to hear the Word by hundreds, and that from all parts. And I thank God he gave unto me some measure of bowels and pity for their souls, which did put me forward to labour with great diligence and earnestness, to find out such a word as might, if God would bless it, lay hold of and awaken the conscience, in which also the good Lord had respect to the desire of his servant; for I had not preached long before some began to be touched, and be greatly afflicted in their minds at the apprehension of the greatness of their sin, and of their need of Jesus Christ.

'But I at first could not believe that God should speak by me to the heart of any man, still counting myself unworthy; yet those who were thus touched would love me, and have a particular respect for me; and though I did put it from me that they should be awakened by me, still they would confess it, and affirm it before the saints of God. They would also bless God for me, unworthy wretch that I am! and count me God's instrument that showed to them the way of salvation.

`Wherefore, seeing them in both their words and deeds to be so constant, and also in their hearts so earnestly pressing after the knowledge of Jesus Christ, rejoicing that ever God did send me where they were; then I began to conclude that it might be so, that God had owned in his work such a foolish one as I; and then came that word of God to my heart with much sweet refreshment, "The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me, and I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy" (Job 29:13).

`At this therefore I rejoiced; yea, the tears of those whom God did awaken by my preaching would be both solace and encouragement to me. I thought on those sayings, "Who is he that maketh me glad, but the same that is made sorry by me" (2Co 2:2). And again, "Though I be not an apostle to others, yet doubtless I am unto you: for the seal of my apostleship are ye in the Lord" (1Co 9:2). These things, therefore, were as an another argument unto me, that God had called me to, and stood by me in this work.

`In my preaching of the Word I took special notice of this one thing, namely, that the Lord did lead me to begin where his Word begins with sinners; that is, to condemn all flesh, and to open and allege, that the curse of God by the law doth belong to, and lay hold on all men as they come into the world, because of sin. Now this part of my work I fulfilled with great feeling, for the terrors of the law, and guilt for my transgressions, lay heavy on my own conscience. I preached what I felt, what I smartingly did feel, even that under which my poor soul did groan and tremble to astonishment. Indeed, I have been as one sent to them from the dead; I went myself in chains to preach to them in chains; and carried that fire in my own conscience that I persuaded them to beware of.175 I can truly say, that when I have been to preach, I have gone full of guilt and terror even to the pulpit-door, and there it hath been taken off, and I have been at liberty in my mind until I have done my work, and then, immediately, even before I could get down the pulpit stairs, I have been as bad as I was before: yet God carried me on with a strong hand, for neither guilt nor hell could take me off my work. Thus I went on for the space of two years, crying out against men's sins, and their fearful state because of them.'176

175 If Christians recollected with what anxiety their teachers prepared and delivered their sermons, how constant and prayerful would be their attendance on the means of grace.

176 Grace Abounding, vol. i., p. 42. The taunts and revilings of a poet laureate upon Bunyan's preaching and sufferings need only a passing notice. No words could be more vile and slanderous than those of Mr. Southey. He says, 'Peace might be on his lips, and zeal for the salvation of others in his heart, but he was certainly, at that time, no preacher of good will, nor of Christian charity.' How can we judge of a preacher's good will, but by `peace on his lips?' and what is the criterion of Christian charity, except it be 'zeal for the salvation of others in his heart?'

A man so much in earnest soon became a most acceptable and popular preacher. He studied his sermons carefully, and wrote such memorandums and notes as might refresh his memory before going into the pulpit, although his intensity of feeling, his ready utterance, and natural eloquence which charmed his hearers, and his extensive usefulness as a preacher, render it quite improbable that he restricted himself to notes while publicly engaged in sacred services. They must have aided him when he did not enjoy liberty of utterance. 'At times when I have begun to speak the Word with much liberty, I have been presently so straitened in speech that I scarcely knew what I was about, or as if my head had been in a bag.'177 They were valuable, also, as a proof that all he said had its exclusive reference to the world to come, without the mixture of politics, which might have given offence to the

177 Grace Abounding, No. 293, vol. i., p. 44.

Government. Thus, when he was apprehended for neglecting to attend the church service and for preaching the gospel, in his conversation with Mr. Cobb, the magistrate's clerk, he said `that, to cut off all occasions of suspicion from any, as touching the harmlessness of my doctrine, in private I would willingly take the pains to give any one the notes of all my sermons, for I do sincerely desire to live quietly in my country, and to submit to the present authority.'178 In such troublesome times these would afford abundant proof that he was desirous of submitting to all the political institutions of his country, while he dared not conform to human laws affecting his faith or his mode of worshipping God, for which he alone was to stand answerable at the great day.

178 Vol. i., p. 59. Eben. Chandler thus describes Bunyan: 'His wit was sharp and quick, his memory tenacious; it being customary with him to commit his sermons to writing after he had preached them.'—Chandler and Wilson's Preface to Bunyan's Works, folio, 1692. All these autographs have unaccountably disappeared.

The employment of his time in earning a maintenance for his family, and his constant engagements to preach, interfered with the proper fulfillment of his duties as a deacon of the church. His resignation of this important office is thus recorded in the minutes of the church—'At a meeting held on the 27th of the 6th month, 1657, the deacon's office was transferred from John Bunyan to John Pernie, because he could no longer discharge its duties aright, in consequence of his being so much employed in preaching.'

We cannot wonder that his time was incessantly employed. His was no ordinary case. He had to recover and improve upon the little education he had received, and lost again by dissipated habits. He must have made every effort, by his diligent study of the Bible, to gain that spiritual knowledge which alone could enable him to proclaim the unsearchable riches of Christ, and that profound internal converse with the throne of God which appears in all his writings. In addition to all this, he was engaged in continual controversy with a variety of sects, which, in his sober judgment, opposed the simplicity of the gospel. Among these the Ranters, or Sweet Singers, were very conspicuous. It is difficult to discover what were their opinions, but they appear to have been nearly like the Dutch Adamites; they were severely persecuted, by public authority, under the Commonwealth, for blasphemy. George Fox found some of them in prison at Coventry in 1649, and held a short disputation with them. They claimed each one to be GOD, founding their notion on such passages as 1Co 14:25, 'God is in you of a truth.' Fox quaintly asked them whether it would rain the next day; and upon their answering that they could not tell, 'Then said I unto them, God can tell.'179 Strange as it may appear, the Ranters had many followers, while numerous pious people were troubled by their impudence and perversion of Scripture, but more especially by their being a persecuted people. Taking advantage of the inquiries that were excited by these strange doctrines, Bunyan determined to become an author, that he might set forth more extensively than he could do by preaching, the truths of the gospel in their native purity, simplicity, and beauty, as an antidote to fanaticism. The learned and eloquent looked with contempt upon the follies of the Ranters, Familists, and some loose Quakers, 'and only deigned to abuse them with raillery, while the poor unlettered tinker wrote against them.' To indite a work would be to him a pleasant recreation, but writing a book must have been extremely difficult, and have required extraordinary patience. This will be better seen by a specimen of his handwriting, now in the Bedford Library, found in Fox's Book of Martyrs, the three volumes of which beguiled many of his tedious hours when in prison. (See handwriting in book)

179 Noticed in the life annexed to Pilgrim, Part III.

To write a volume, containing about twenty-five thousand words, must have been a serious task to such a scribe.

It is interesting to trace his improvement in calligraphy while recovering his lost education, and advancing in proficiency in an art so essential to his constantly extending usefulness.

(See book)

`Doth the owle to then apper
Which put them all into a fear 

 Will not the man in treble crown
Fright the owle unto the ground.'

The above signatures in Fox's Book of Martyrs (one of his first acquisitions in book-collecting), are remarkably rude and labored; a great effort to produce his name handsomely such as a young scribe would contemplate with no small degree of satisfaction. On a page of that book, under the engraving of an owl appearing at a council held by Pope John at Rome, he had written the above four lines.

The next is a more useful running hand, however defective in orthography and grammar; it is from the first page of a copy of Bishop Andrews' sermons180

(See book - handwriting that says "John Bunyan is back")

180 In the editor's library, folio, 1635. Orthography was little cared for in those days. On the beautiful portrait of Andrews, is the autograph of Annie Brokett hir Blook!

The inscription in a copy of his Holy City, 1665, in Dr. Williams' or the Dissenter's Library, Red Cross Street, is in a still more useful hand, as good as that of most authors of that day--  

(See handwriting in book)

The autograph in Powell's Concordance, in the library of the Baptist Academy, Bristol, is in a fair hand--

(See book for signature)

His autograph is in possession of the Society of Antiquaries. The document to which it is subscribed is written in a remarkably neat hand, addressed to the Lord Protector. The signatures appear to be written as if in the writer's best style.181

(See book for signature)

Signature to the deed of gift182_

(See book for signature)

181 This document is copied on page xxvi.

182 See page lxxii.

In addition to the motives which have been noticed as inducing him to become an author, it appears, that in the course of his itinerating labours, he was much grieved with the general depravity which had overspread all classes of society. Evil communications had corrupted the great mass, and occasioned an aversion to hear the gospel, which plunged the people into carnal security. When roused by his preaching they too often foundin possession of the Society of An refuge in despair, or in vain attempts to impose upon God their unholy self-righteousness, endeavouring 'to earn heaven with their fingers' ends';183 anything rather than submit to receive salvation as the free gift of God, and thus be led to consecrate all their powers to his glory and the comfort of society. A few who appeared to have thought on this solemn subject, without any change of conduct, are called by Bunyan 'light notionists, with here and there a legalist,'184 or those who relied upon a creed without the fruits of righteousness, and some of these imbibed notions of the strangest kind—that the light within was all-sufficient, without any written revelation of the will of God—that the account of Christ's personal appearance on earth was a myth, to represent his residence in the persons of believers, in whom he suffers, is crucified, buried, and raised again to spiritual life—that such persons might do whatever their inclinations led them to, without incurring guilt or sin; in short, many sinned that grace might abound!! Some of them professed to be the Almighty God manifest in the flesh. All this took place in what was called a Christian country, upon which millions of treasure had been spent to teach religion by systems, which had persecuted the honest, pious professors of vital Christianity to bonds, imprisonment, and death. This had naturally involved the kingdom in impiety and gross immorality. The discovery of the awful state of his country, while he was engaged in preaching in the villages round Bedford induced him, in the humble hope of doing good, to become an author, and with trembling anxiety he issued to the world the first production of his pen, in 1656, under the title of Some Gospel Truths Opened According to the Scriptures; and, as we shall presently find, it met with a rough reception, plunging him into controversy, which in those days was conducted with bitter acrimony.

183 Vol. ii., p. 132.

184 Vol. ii., p. 133.

Before it was published, he sought the approbation and protection of Mr. John Burton, who had been united with Mr. Gifford in the pastoral charge of the church to which Bunyan belonged. The testimony that he gives is very interesting:—

Here thou hast things certain and necessary to be believed, which thou canst not too much study. Therefore pray that thou mayest receive it, so it is according to the Scriptures, in faith and love, not as the word of man but as the word of God, and be not offended, because Christ holds forth the glorious treasure of the gospel to thee in a poor earthen vessel, by one who hath neither the greatness nor the wisdom of this world to commend him to thee; for as the Scriptures saith, Christ, who was low and contemptible in the world himself, ordinarily chooseth such for himself and for the doing of his work. "Not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble are called: but God hath chosen the foolish things of the world." This man [Bunyan] is not chosen out of an earthly, but out of the heavenly university, the church of Christ, furnished with the Spirit, gifts, and graces of Christ - - out of which, to the end of the world, the word of the Lord and all true gospel ministers must proceed. And, though this man hath not the learning or wisdom of man; yet, through grace, he hath received the teaching of God, and the learning of the Spirit of Christ. He hath taken these three heavenly degrees—union with Christ, the anointing of the Spirit, and experience of the temptations of Satan—which do more fit a man for the mighty work of preaching the gospel, than all the university learning and degrees that can be had. I have had experience with many other saints of this man's [Bunyan's] soundness in the faith, his godly conversation, and his ability to preach the gospel, not by human art, but by the Spirit of Christ, and that with much success in the conversion of sinners. I thought it my duty to bear witness with my brother to these glorious truths of the Lord Jesus Christ.185

185 Vol. ii., pp. 140, 141.

Bunyan was twenty-eight years of age when he published this work, and as he attacked the follies of his times, and what he deemed to be heresies, were exposed to Scripture light and condemned without mercy, it very naturally involved him in controversy. This brought forth the remarkable resources of his mind, which was stored with the Scriptures—his fearlessness—ready wit and keen retort, much sanctified by an earnest desire for the salvation of his opponents. An extraordinary man, younger than himself, full of energy and enthusiasm, entered the lists with him; and in Edward Burrough, very properly called a son of thunder and of consolation, Bunyan found an able disputant. He was talented, pious, and fearless in his Master's work, and became eminently useful in laying the foundation of the Society of Friends. Soon after this he was numbered with the noble army of martyrs at the age of twenty-eight, being sacrificed in Newgate, at the shrine of religious intolerance.

At this time the Quakers were not united as a body, and consequently there was no test of character nor rules of discipline for those who assumed that name. They were very dissimilar men to their quiet and unobtrusive descendants. The markets, fairs, and every public concourse were attended by them, denouncing false weights and measures, drunkenness and villany, with the curses of the Almighty, calling upon the people, frequently with furious and fearful energy and powerful eloquence, to repent, and cry unto God, that his mercy might be extended to the salvation of their immortal souls. their zeal led them to many breaches of good manners. They would enter churches, and after the service, when the quiet folks were thinking of gratifying their bodies with a substantial dinner, they were arrested by the violent declamation of a man or woman, frequently denouncing the priest as being the blind leading the blind. This naturally led to a scene of riot and confusion, in which the Quakers were in many cases handled with great barbarity. among these disturbers were mingled persons of bad character. The violence of sectarian feeling in the churches thus disturbed, made no discrimination between bad and good; they were equally subjected to the roughest treatment. Bunyan attacked those who denied that Christ had appeared in the world as Emmanuel, God with us 'in fashion as a man,' that by the infinite merits of his life and death imputed to believers, they might be made holy. His attack was also directed against those who refused obedience to the written Word, or who relied upon inward light in contradistinction and preference to the Bible. The title to Burrough's answer is a strange contrast to the violence of his language—The Gospel of Peace Contended for in the Spirit of Meekness and Love. In this spirit of meekness he calls his opponents 'crafty fowlers preying upon the innocent'; and lovingly exclaims, 'How long shall the righteous be a prey to your teeth, ye subtle foxes; your dens are in darkness, and your mischief is hatched upon your beds of secret whoredoms.' The unhallowed spirit of the age mistook abuse for argument, and harsh epithets for faithful dealing.186

186 The American authors of a recent life of Burrough, (William and Thomas Evans, Philadelphia, republished by Gilpin, London, 1851), have given an unfair account of his controversy with Bunyan, drawn from Burrough's works in the shape of a supposed dialogue. Such a disputation can only be understood by reading both sides of the question. We unite with them in admiring the character of that young but noble martyr. They are, however, wrong in their conclusion that 'the meekness and gentleness of Christ softened and adorned his whole character.' He was one of those that are called in the Holy War, 'rough hewn men fit to break the ice.' Vol. iii. p. 270.

Bunyan replied in A Vindication of Gospel Truths, to the great satisfaction of all his friends; and although Burrough answered this tract also, Bunyan very wisely allowed his railing opponent to have the last word, and applied his great powers to more important labours than caviling with one who in reality did not differ with him. The Quaker had been seriously misled by supposing that the Baptist was a hireling preacher; and we must be pleased that he was so falsely charged, because it elicited a crushing reply. Burrough, in reply to an imputation made by Bunyan, that the Quakers were the false prophets alluded to in Scripture, observed that 'in those days there was not a Quaker heard of.' Friend,' replied Bunyan, 'thou hast rightly said, there was not a Quaker heard of indeed, though there were many Christians heard of then. Again, to defend thyself thou throwest the dirt in my face, saying, If we should diligently trace thee, we should find thee in the steps of the false prophets, through fancied words, through covetousness, making merchandise of souls, loving the wages of unrighteousness.' To which Bunyan replied; 'Friend, dost thou speak this as from thy own knowledge, or did any other tell thee so? However, that spirit that led thee out this way, is a lying spirit; for though I be poor, and of no repute in the world as to outward things, yet through grace I have learned, by the example of the apostle, to preach the truth, and also to work with my hands, both for mine own living, and for those that are with me, when I have opportunity. And I trust that the Lord Jesus, who hath helped me to reject the wages of unrighteousness hitherto, will also help me still, so that I shall distribute that which God hath given me freely, and not for filthy lucre sake.'187 Thus had he learned of the apostle to `make the gospel of Christ without charge' (1Co 9:18); and upon this subject they strangely agreed. The same agreement existed between them upon the necessity of inward light from the Holy Spirit; without which they both considered the Bible to be a dead letter. The peculiar principle which separates the Quaker from every other Christian community, has nothing to do with the light within. Upon that subject all evangelical sects are agreed. The substantial difference is whether our Lord intended the work of the ministry to be exclusively a work of benevolence, charity, and love, binding all who are capable of using the talent intrusted to them, to do it without worldly reward. Surely every man may be satisfied in his own mind upon such a subject, without quarrelling with, or anathematizing each other. Bunyan and Burrough agreed, without knowing it, in the sentiments of their illustrious and learned cotemporary, John Milton, as to the ministry being without charge; and had they, when offended, followed their Master's rule, 'If thy brother trespass against thee, go and tell him his fault between thee and him along' (Mt 18:15), had they met, and on their knees before the throne of grace, sought from heaven wisdom and charity in defending Divine truth, we can easily imagine that the approbation of God would have been manifested, by sending them on their important work in peaceful unity. They had been immersed in the same deep and solemn regeneration, and their ardent object was the same—to spread the influence of the kingdom of Christ.

187 Vol. ii., p. 201.

When Christians of various denominations meet in prayer, how it melts down their sectarian bitterness. In this controversy, mention is made of a total abstinence movement in the time of the commonwealth, a germ which has put forth its mighty efforts in our more peaceful and happy times. A cloud now hovered over Bunyan, and threatened him with troubles of a very different kind to those of religious controversy. It will startle many of our readers to hear that, under the government of Cromwell, Bunyan was persecuted for his religious opinions and practices. Mr. Jukes, in his interesting History of Bunyan's Church, thus refers to it: 'Soon after he had resigned the office of deacon in 1657, the hand of persecution was raised against him; for at a meeting of the church, held on the 256 day of the twelfth month, in the same year (Feb. 1658), it was agreed that the 3d day of the next month be set apart to seek God in the behalf of our brother Wheeler, who hath been long ill in body, whereby his ministry hath been hindered; and also about the church affairs, and the affairs of the nation; and for our brother Whitbread, who has long been ill; and also for counsel what to do with respect to the indictment of brother Bunyan at the assizes, for preaching at Eaton.188

188 P. 16.

Although persecution for religious opinions assumed a milder form under the Commonwealth, the great principles of religious freedom and equality were neither known nor practiced. The savage barbarities perpetrated upon Prynne, Bastwick, Burton, Leighton, and others, by Charles I and his archbishop, Laud, were calculated to open the eyes of the nation to the wickedness and inutility of sanguinary or even any laws to govern the conscience, or interfere with Divine worship. Alas! even those who suffered and survived became, in their turn, persecutors. The great object of persecution was the book of Common Prayer, the use of which was rigorously prohibited. The clergy were placed in an extremely awkward predicament. No sooner was the Act of Parliament passed ordering the Directory to be used and the Prayer-book to be laid aside, than the king, by his royal proclamation, issued from Oxford, November 13, 1645, ordered the Directory to be set aside, and the Common Prayer to be used in all the churches and chapels. Both these orders were under very severe penalties.

The Act against atheistical opinions, which passed August 9, 1650, illustrates the extraordinary state of the times. The preamble states that, 'Divers men and women have lately discovered themselves to be most monstrous in their opinions, and loose in all wicked and abominable practices.' It then enacts that—'Any one, not being mad, who pretends to be God Almighty, or who declares that unrighteousness, uncleanness, swearing, drunkenness, and the like filthiness and brutishness, or denying the existence of God, or who shall profess that murder, adultery, incest, fornication, uncleanness, filthy or lascivious speaking, are not wicked, sinful, impious, abominable, and detestable, shall be imprisoned, and, for a second offence, be transported.'189

189 It is difficult to describe the state of those times. James Naylor rode into Bristol, a multitude accompanying him, strewing their scarfs, handkerchiefs, and garments on the ground for his horse to tread on, and singing, Hosanna in the highest; holy, holy, holy is the Lord God of Israel. He was addressed as the everlasting son of righteousness, and prince of peace. His brain was bewildered with adulation. Women kissed his feet, and called him Jesus the Son of God. To stop the tumult, he was apprehended, and had he been simply subjected to the discipline of a mad-house, like Mr. Brothers of a later period, his blood would soon have recovered from its agitation. Instead of this, a grand parade was made by trying him before a Committee of the House of Commons, and, upon a report of the whole house, he was convicted of `horrid blasphemy,' and it was by the small majority of fourteen that his life was spared. His cruel sentence was whipping, pillory, his tongue bored through with a red hot iron, a large letter B burnt into his forehead, and to be imprisoned during the pleasure of Parliament. By his followers he was considered a martyr; but the infatuation soon subsided. After his release, he was mercifully restored to his senses, and became a useful Quaker.

One of the Acts that affected Bunyan was passed April 26, 1645, cap. 52—'None may preach but ordained ministers, except such as, intending the ministry, shall, for trial of their gifts, be allowed by such as be appointed by both houses of Parliament.' This was amended by 'an ordinance appointing commissioners for approbation of public preachers,' March, 1653. In this Dr. Owen, Goodwin, Caryl, and many others are named, who were to judge of the candidate's fitness to preach.190 The Act which more seriously touched Bunyan was that of May 2, 1648, which enacts that any person saying, 'that man is bound to believe no more than by his reason he can comprehend, or that the baptizing of infants is unlawful, or such baptism is void, and that such persons ought to be baptized again, and, in pursuance thereof, shall baptize any person formerly baptized, shall be imprisoned until he gives security that he will not publish or maintain the said error any more.'191 It was these intolerant proceedings that led Milton to publish a poem On the New Forcers of Conscience, beginning with these lines—

`Dare ye, for this, adjure the civil sword,
To force our consciences that Christ set free.'

This last-mentioned ungracious and uncalled-for Act against the Baptists, led some violent spirits to print a paper, entitled, 'The Second Part of England's new Chains Discovered,' this was read in many Baptist meeting-houses, and the congregations called upon to subscribe it: fortunately, they were peaceably disposed, and denounced it to the House of Commons in a petition, dated April 2, 1649. Mr. Kiffin and the others were called in, when the Speaker returned them this answer—'The House doth take notice of the good affection to the Parliament and public you have expressed, both in this petition and otherways. They have received satisfaction thereby, concerning your disclaiming that pamphlet, which gave such just offence to the Parliament, and also concerning your disposition to live peaceably, and in submission to the civil magistracy; your expressions whereof they account very Christian and seasonable. That for yourselves and other Christians, walking answerable to such professions as in this petition you make, they do assure you of liberty and protection, so far as God shall enable them, in all things consistent with godliness, honesty, and civil peace.'192 Whether it was in consequence of this good understanding having remained between the Baptists and the Parliament, or from some application to the Protector, or from some unknown cause, the persecution was stayed;193 for the indictment does not appear to have been tried, and Bunyan is found to have been present, and to have taken a part in the affairs of the church, until the 25th day of the 2d Month, 1660 (April), when 'it was ordered, according to our agreement, that our brother, John Bunyan, do prepare to speak a word at the next church meeting and that our brother Whiteman fail not to speak to him of it.'194

190 These commissioners were called 'triers,' and, being high Calvinists, were nick-named Dr. Absolute, chairman, Mr. Fatality, Mr. Fri-babe, Mr. Dam-man, Mr. Narrow-grace, Mr. Indefectible, Mr. Dubious, and others. They turned out of their livings those clergymen who were proved to be immoral in their conduct, and others who did not come up to the orthodox standard. Of these, Mr. Walker, in his account of the sufferings of the clergy, gives a long list.

191 This Act or ordinance of Parliament involved some of our excellent ancestors in trouble. Hansard Knollys, Wm. Kiffin, Mr. Lamb, and many others, were imprisoned for short periods; Edward Barbour for eleven months. To avoid the informers, adult baptism was performed at midnight; for this Henry Denne suffered imprisonment. That gracious and valuable minister, Vavasor Powel also suffered a short imprisonment during the Protectorate; his life was afterwards sacrificed by a tedious imprisonment in the following reign. He was taken, with his flock, at a midnight meeting; and for safe custody they were locked up in the parish church, and there he preached without molestation. When conveyed to the justice's house, while waiting his worship's leisure, he again preached. When this magistrate arrived, he was violently enraged that his house should have been turned into a conventicle. He would have committed them at once to prison, but two of his daughters were so affected with the sermon, that, at their intercession, after severe threatenings, the preacher and his friends were set at liberty.

192 From the original, in the editor's possession.

193 Cotton Mather says that these laws were never carried to extremity, and were soon laid entirely by. Hist. of America.

194 Jukes' History of Bunyan's Church, p. 16.

This invitation was very probably intended to introduce him to the congregation, with a view to his becoming an assistant pastor, but before it took place, he again appeared before the public as an author. The second production of his pen is a solemn and most searching work, founded upon the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, under the title of A Few Sighs from Hell, or the Groans of a Damned Soul; by that poor and contemptible Servant of Jesus Christ, John Bunyan, 1658. His humility led him to seek the patronage of his pastor; and Mr. Gifford, under the initials of J. G., wrote a preface of thirty-eight pages, but he dying before it reached the second edition, that preface was discontinued, and the title somewhat altered. The only copy of this first edition yet discovered is in the royal library at the British Museum. It appears to have belonged to Charles II, who, with more wit than decorum, has bound it up, as a supplement, to an extremely licentious book, as if it was intended to say, 'Her house is the way to hell, going down to the chamber of death'; or that a licentious life endeth in 'sighs from hell.'

Mr. Gifford, in this preface, after strongly recommending the work, speaks of the author in the most respectful and affectionate terms, showing that his zeal, and energy, and great usefulness had excited the envy of many who ought to have encouraged him as one taught by the Spirit, and used in his hand to do souls good—'divers have felt the power of the Word delivered by him; and I doubt not but that many more may, if the Lord continues him in his work'; and he gives this as a reason 'why the archers have shot so sorely at him'; and then scripturally proves that no objection should be made to his valuable services from his want of human learning. As the whole of this interesting preface is accurately reprinted with the book, the reader is referred to it without further extracts. 195 The Editor's introduction to these Sighs was written under very solemn feelings, produced by reading this searching treatise. The rich man is intended to personify those who, neglecting salvation, die in their sins, while Lazarus personates all those who humbly receive salvation as the gift of God; who, however they may suffer in this world, retain their integrity to death. In this parable, a voice is heard from the place of torment—the cry is a `drop of water,' the slightest relief to unutterable woes; and that a messenger may be sent to warn his relatives, lest they should be plunged into the same torment. The impassable gulf defies the vain request, while the despised Christian reposes in everlasting and indescribable enjoyment. This little volume was very popular; nine editions were printed and sold in the author's lifetime, besides pirated copies. Bunyan's feelings and mode of preaching are well described in the Grace Abounding,196 and will be felt by every attentive reader of his Sighs from Hell:—'When I have been preaching, I thank God, my heart hath often, with great earnestness, cried to God that he would make the Word effectual to the salvation of the soul. Wherefore I did labour so to speak the Word, as that thereby, if it were possible, the sin and person guilty might be particularized by it.'

195 Works, vol. iii., p. 667; especially pp. 672, 673.

196 No. 280-317, vol. i., p. 42-46.

`And when I have done the exercise, it hath gone to my heart, to think the Word should now fall as rain on stony places; still wishing from my heart, 0! that they who have heard me speak this day, did but see as I do, what sin, death, hell, and the curse of God is; and also what the grace, and love, and mercy of God is, through Christ, to men in such a case as they are who are yet estranged from him.

'For I have been in my preaching, especially when I have been engaged in the doctrine of life by Christ, without works, as if an angel of God had stood by at my back to encourage me.'

Such feelings are not limited to Bunyan, but are most anxiously felt by all our pious ministers. How fervently ought their hearers to unite in approaches to the mercy-seat, that the Divine blessing may make the Word fruitful.

In those days it was not an uncommon thing for the hearers, at the close of the sermon, to put questions to the preacher, sometimes to elicit truth, or to express a cordial union of sentiments, or to contradict what the minister had said. Upon one occasion, Mr. Bunyan, after his sermon, had a singular dispute with a scholar. It is narrated by Mr. C. Doe, who was a personal friend and great admirer of our author, and who probably heard it from his own mouth, and will be found in the Struggler, inserted vol. iii., p. 767.

It is the common taunt of the scorner, and sometimes a stone of stumbling to the inquirer, that, while the Christian believes in the intensity of the Saviour's sufferings, and that God was made flesh that he might offer himself as an atonement to redeem mankind, yet few are saved, in comparison with those who are lost—broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, and many walk therein, while few attempt the narrow way to life; that four sorts of hearers are described by the Saviour, only one receiving the truth; as if the doleful realms of darkness and misery would be more thickly peopled than those of light and happiness, and Satan prove stronger than Christ. Such cavilers forget that the far greater portion of mankind die in infancy, purified by the Saviour's sufferings, and enter heaven in the perfection of manhood. As Mr. Toplady justly observes, what a vista does this open to the believer through the dreary gloom of the infidel! They forget, also, that all those who gain the narrow path, once helped to throng the road to destruction; and that the hearers, whose hardened deceitful hearts rejected the gospel under one sermon, may, by mercy, have them opened to receive it under another. And who dares to limit the Almighty? The power that prepared the spirit of the thief, when upon the cross, even in his last moments, for the pure enjoyments of heaven, still exists. Is the arm of the Lord shortened that he cannot save? The myriads of heaven will be found countless as are the sands upon the seashore, and the harmony of their worship shall swell like the voice of many waters and mighty thunderings, saying, 'Alleluj a, for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.' What! Satan stronger than the Almighty Redeemer? Perish the thought. Still how common is the question, which one of the disciples put to his master, `Lord, are there few that be saved?' How striking the answer! 'Strive to enter in at the strait gate' (Lu 13:23). Encumber not thy mind with such needless inquiries, but look to thine own salvation.

Another very singular anecdote is related, which proves that the use of the churches was not then limited to any one sect. 'Being to preach in a church in a country village (before the restoration of king Charles) in Cambridgeshire, and the people being gathered together in the church-yard, a Cambridge scholar, and none of the soberest of 'em neither, enquired what the meaning of that concourse of people was, it being upon the week day, and being told, That one Bunyan, a tinker, was to preach there, he gave a boy twopence to hold his horse, saying, He was resolved to hear the tinker prate; and so went into the church to hear him. But God met with him there by his ministry, so that he came out much changed, and would, by his good will, hear none but the tinker for a long time after, he himself becoming a very eminent preacher in that county afterwards. This story I know to be true, having many a time discoursed with the man, and, therefore, I could not but set it down as a singular instance of the power of God that accompanied his ministry.'197

197 Life and Death of Mr. J. Bunyan, 1700, p. 27.

Bunyan's veneration for the Scriptures, as the only source and standard of religious knowledge, led him into frequent controversies. In common with the Christian world, he wholly depended upon the enlightening influence of the Holy Spirit to impress the Divine truths of revelation upon the mind, and also to illustrate, open, and apply the sacred writings to the heart of man. Unable to read the Bible in the original languages in which it was written, he wisely made use of every aid that might enable him to study its contents with the greatest advantage. It was his habit to examine the two translations then in common use. The present authorized version, first published in 1611, is that to which he usually refers; comparing it with the favourite Puritan version made by the refugees at Geneva, and first printed in 1560. He sometimes quotes the Genevan, and so familiar were the two translations, that in several instances he mixes them in referring from memory to passages of holy writ.

Upon one of his journeys, being upon the road near Cambridge, he was overtaken by a scholar, who concluded that he was an itinerant preacher, whether from having heard him, or observing his serious deportment, or his Bible reading, does not appear, although the latter was probably the reason. But the student determined to have a brush with him, and said, `How dare you preach from the Bible, seeing you have not the original, being not a scholar?' Then said Mr. Bunyan, 'Have you the original?' `Yes, said the scholar."Nay, but,' said Mr. Bunyan, 'have you the very self-same original copies that were written by the penmen of the Scriptures, prophets and apostles?' No,' said the scholar, 'but we have the true copies of these originals.' How do you know that?' said Mr. Bunyan. 'How?' said the scholar. 'Why, we believe what we have is a true copy of the original.' Then,' said Mr. Bunyan, `so do I believe our English Bible is a true copy of the original.' Then away rid the scholar.198 As neither persecution nor railing, nor temptations, nor the assaults of Satan, produced any effect upon Bunyan to prevent his preaching, but rather excited his zeal and energy, means of a more deadly nature were resorted to, to injure or prevent his usefulness. As Mr. Gifford said, `The archers shot sorely at him' by the most infamous and unfounded slanders, which he thus narrates:—

198 Vol. iii., p. 767.

`When Satan perceived that his thus tempting and assaulting of me would not answer his design, to wit, to overthrow my ministry, and make it ineffectual, as to the ends thereof: then he tried another way, which was to stir up the minds of the ignorant and malicious to load me with slanders and reproaches. Now, therefore, I may say, that what the devil could devise, and his instruments invent, was whirled up and down the country against me, thinking, as I said, that by that means they should make my ministry to be abandoned. It began, therefore, to be rumoured up and down among the people, that I was a witch, a Jesuit, a highwayman, and the like. To all which, I shall only say, God knows that I am innocent. But as for mine accusers, let them provide themselves to meet me before the tribunal of the Son of God, there to answer for all these things, with all the rest of their iniquities, unless God shall give them repentance for them, for the which I pray with all my heart.

`But that which was reported with the boldest confidence, was, that I had my misses, yea, two wives at once, and the like. Now these slanders, with the others, I glory in, because but slanders, foolish, or knavish lies, and falsehoods cast upon me by the devil and his seed; and should I not be dealt with thus wickedly by the world, I should want one sign of a saint, and a child of God. "Blessed are ye (said the Lord Jesus) when men shall revile you and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely for my sake; rejoice and be exceeding glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you."

`These things therefore, upon mine own account, trouble me not. No, though they were twenty times more than they are, I have a good conscience; and whereas they speak evil of me, they shall be ashamed that falsely accuse my good conversation in Christ. Therefore I bind these lies and slanders to me as an ornament, it belongs to my Christian profession to be vilified, slandered, reproached, and reviled. I rejoice in reproaches for Christ's sake. My foes have missed their mark in this their shooting at me. I am not the man. If all the fornicators and adulterers in England were hanged by the neck till they be dead, John Bunyan, the object of their envy, would be still alive and well. I know not whether there be such a thing as a woman breathing under the copes of the whole heaven, but by their apparel, their children, or by common fame, except my wife.

`And in this I admire the wisdom of God, that he made me shy of women from my first conversion until now. When I have seen good men salute those women that they have visited, I have made my objection against it; and when they have answered, that it was but a piece of civility, I have told them, it is not a comely sight. Some indeed have urged the holy kiss; but then I have asked why they made baulks, why they did salute the most handsome, and let the ill-favoured go. Not that I have been thus kept, because of any goodness in me, more than any other, but God has been merciful to me, and has kept me, to whom I pray that he will keep me still, not only from this, but every evil way and work, and preserve me to his heavenly kingdom. Amen.'199

199 Grace Abounding, vol. i., p. 46.

Notwithstanding all Mr. Bunyan's care to avoid the slightest appearance of evil, yet being over-persuaded to an act of humanity and civility to one of his female members, he was most unjustly calumniated. The circumstances which gave rise to this slander are narrated in James's Abstract of God's dealings with Mrs. Agnes Beaumont, of which an abridged account will be found in a note to the Grace Abounding.200 It exhibits in a remarkable manner how easily such reports are raised against the holiest men.

200 See Note, vol. i., p. 45.

Another still more extraordinary and unnatural charge was made against Bunyan. He lived at a period when witchcraft, witches, and wizards were in the height of fashion. Any poor woman who had outlived or had become a burden to her natural protectors, and whose temper was soured by infirmities, especially if her language was vulgar and her appearance repulsive, ran the risk of being defamed as a witch. If in her neighbourhood a murrain seized the cattle, or a disease entered a family which baffled the little knowledge of the country practitioners—such as epilepsy, St. Vitus' dance, or St. Anthony's fire—it was ascribed to witchcraft, and vengeance was wreaked upon any reputed witch. In many parts of England she was tried by a kind of Lynch law, in a very summary manner. Her hands and feet being bound together, she was thrown into deep water; if she sank, and was drowned, she was declared innocent; if she swam, it was a proof of guilt, and a little form of law condemned her to the stake or halter. In Scotland, they were treated with greater barbarity; they were awfully tortured—thumb-screws, the boots to crush their knees, pricking them with needles or awls night and day, to prevent a moment's rest, were persevered in—until a confession was extorted, to be followed by a frightful death. The ignorance that prevailed may account for the faith of the vulgar in witchcraft; but that learned divines, and even the enlightened Judge Hale, should fall into the delusion, is most surprising. The charge against Bunyan was, that he had circulated some paper libeling a most respectable widow, a Quakeress, as a witch. This paper cannot now be discovered; but the story is so perfectly ridiculous as to render it quite improbable that Bunyan had any knowledge of it. The account is contained in a rare pamphlet of four leaves, preserved in the very curious library of the Society of Friends at Devonshire House, Bishopsgate. It is entitled, `A lying wonder discovered, and the strange and terrible news from Cambridge proved false; which false news is published in a libel, concerning a wicked slander cast upon a Quaker; but the author of the said libel was ashamed to subscribe his name to it. Also, this contains an answer to John Bunion's paper, touching the said imagined witchcraft, which he hath given forth to your wonderment, as he saith; but it is also proved a lie and a slander by many credible witnesses hereafter mentioned.'201 It narrates that Margaret Pryor, of Long Stanton, indicted, on the 28th July, 1659, the widow Morlin, a Quaker lady, for having, on the 29th November, 1657, took her out of bed from her husband in the night, put a bridle in her mouth, and transformed her into a bay mare, and with a Quaker, William Allen, rode upon her to Maddenly House, a distance of four miles; that they made her fast to the latch of the door, while she saw them partake of a feast of mutton, rabbits, and lamb [lamb in November!!]; that they shone like angels, and talked of doctrine, and that she knew some of the guests; that her feet were a little sore, but not her hands, nor was she dirty. In examining her, the judge elicited that she made no mention of the story for a year and three-quarters, and that her deposition then was that some evil spirit changed her into a bay-horse; that her hands and feet were lamentably bruised, and changed as black as a coal; that she had her chemise on, which was all bloody, from her sides being rent and torn with the spurs. All this was unknown to her husband; nor had she accounted for her chemise so strangely fitting a horse or mare. It was proved that the complainant had received money for bringing the charge, and pretended to have burnt some of her hair with elder-bark, as a counter-charm to prevent it happening again. The judge summed up with observing that it was a mere dream or phantasy, and that the complainant was the sorceress, by practicing incantations in burning her hair and bark. The jury found a verdict of—not guilty; and thus two innocent persons were saved by an enlightened judge from an ignominious death. It is almost incredible that, even after the trial, priests and magistrates who had promoted the prosecution professed to believe that the charge was true. This singular narrative, in defence of the poor persecuted Quakeress, is signed James Blackley, an alderman, George Whitehead, and three others. No one can believe that John Bunyan gave credit to such a tale, or mentioned it to the injury of the parties accused. His reply was, that these slanders were devised by the devil and his instruments—'God knows that I am innocent.' The probability is, that the pamphlet called Strange News from Cambridge had been sent to him, and that he gave it to some Quaker to answer.

201 4tp. London, 1659. A MS copy is in the editor's possession.

Considering the almost universal belief in witchcraft in those days—that Baxter, Cotton Mather, Clarke, and many of our most eminent divines, believed in it—and that Bunyan received the Scriptures in our authorized translation with the deepest reverence, it becomes an interesting inquiry how far he believed in witchcraft, possessions, incantations, and charms. He was persuaded that Satan could appear to mankind in the shape of animals, and in the human form. Had any one doubted the possibility of these appearances, he would at that time have been called an atheist and an unbeliever in the existence of God and of separate spirits. Thus he argues, that 'If sin can make one who was sometimes a glorious angel in heaven now so to abuse himself as to become, to appearance, as a filthy frog, a toad, a rat, a cat, a fly, a mouse, or a dog, to serve its ends upon a poor mortal, that it might gull them of everlasting life, no marvel if the soul is so beguiled as to sell itself from God and all good for so poor a nothing as a momentary pleasure.'202 When speaking of the impropriety of excluding a pious person from the Lord's table, because of a difference of opinion as to water baptism, he says, 'Do you more to the openly profane—yea, to all wizards and witches in the land?'203 In quoting Isa 13, he, taught by the Puritan version, puts the key in the margin—'Wild beasts of the desert shall be there and their houses shall be full of** doleful creatures. And owls shall  dwell there, and satyrs* shall dance there.'204 He gave no credence to the appearance of departed spirits, except in the hour of death; and then, while between time and eternity, he thought that in some rare cases spiritual sight was given to see objects otherwise invisible.205

**That is the hobgoblins, or devils

202 Vol. i., p. 683.

203 Vol. iii., p. 445.

204 Vol. iii., p. 48.

205 Vol. ii., p. 635.

He fully believed in the power of Satan to suggest evil thoughts to the pious Christian, and to terrify and punish the wicked, even in this life; but never hints, through all his works, at any power of Satan to communicate to man any ability to injure his fellows. What a contrast is there between the Pilgrim of Loretto, with its witch and devil story, mentioned in the introduction to the Pilgrim's Progress, and Bunyan's great allegorical work! Conjurors and fortune-tellers, or witches and wizards, were vagabonds deserving for their fraudulent pretensions,206 punishment by a few months' imprisonment to hard labour, but not a frightful death. In all these things this great man was vastly in advance of his age. He had studied nature from personal observation and the book of revelation. In proportion as the laws of nature are understood, the crafty pretensions of conjurors and witches become exposed to contempt. Bunyan never believed that the great and unchangeable principles which the Creator has ordained to govern nature could be disturbed by the freaks of poor old crazy women, for purposes trifling and insignificant. No, such a man could never have circulated a report that a woman was turned into a bay mare, and her chemise into a horse-cloth and saddle! Unbridled sectarian feeling perverted some remark of his, probably made with the kindest intention, into a most incredible slander.

206 Vol. iii., p. 680.

Among the many singularities of that very interesting period, one was the number of religious tournaments or disputations that were held all over the country. The details of one of these, between Fisher, a Jesuit, and Archbishop Laud, occupy a folio volume. In these wordy duels the Baptists and Quakers bore a prominent part. To write a history of them would occupy more space than our narrow limits will allow. Bunyan entered into one of these controversies with the Quakers at Bedford Market-cross,207 and probably held others in the church, those buildings being at times available under the Protectorate for such purposes. Bunyan was met by the son of thunder, Edward Burrough, who was also assisted by Anne Blackly, a remarkably pious woman and an able disputant. Bunyan pressed them with the Scriptures, and dealt such severe blows that Mrs. Blackly, in the public assembly, bid him throw away the Scriptures. To which he answered, 'No, for then the devil would be too hard for me.' The great controversy was as to Christ within his saints. Bunyan proved, by the holy oracles, that Christ had ascended, and was at the right hand of God; to which Mrs. Blackly answered, that he preached up an idol, and used conjuraton and witchcraft. To the charge of spiritual conjuration and witchcraft he made no reply, it being unworthy his notice; but called upon her to repent of her wickedness in calling Christ an idol. With regard to his presence in his saints, he reminded her, that if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.208 As a matter of course, both parties claimed the victory; and although the hearers were puzzled, doubtless much good was effected.

207 See postscript to The True Faith of the Gospel of Peace, British Museum.

208 Vol. ii., p. 201.

These were comparatively happy days for God's fearers—much valuable seed was sown, and the light of divine truth penetrated into many a benighted town and village. At length dark and portentous clouds rolled over the horizon. The Protector had entered into rest; his son was wholly incapable of taking the helm of public affairs. The exiled king, Charles II, declared his determination to publish an amnesty for all political offences; and from Breda issued his proclamation for liberty of conscience, and the kingdom was cajoled and sold. The king was scarcely seated on his throne, and armed with power, when he threw off the mask. Men who had faithfully performed very painful duties under the authority of Acts of Parliament were put to death, others imprisoned and transported, and uniformity in religion was re-enacted under ferocious penalties. Bunyan was to endure a cruel imprisonment, with all the fears of an ignominious death. Now,' he says, 'as Satan laboured by reproaches and slanders, to make me vile among my countrymen, that if possible my preaching might be made of none effect, so there was added hereto a long and tedious imprisonment, that thereby I might be frighted from my service for Christ, and the world terrified and made afraid to hear me preach, of which I shall in the next place give you a brief account.'209

209 Vol. i., p. 46.



—'0 happie he who doth possesse
Christ for his fellow prisoner, who doth gladde With heavenly sunbeams, goales that are most sad.'

(Written by William Prynne, on his Prison wall, in the Tower.)

The men who arraign their fellows before any standard of orthodoxy, or claim the right of dictating forms of belief or modes of worship under pains or penalties, are guilty of assuming the prerogative of the Most High, and of claiming, for their frail opinions, infallibility. Such are guilty of high treason against the Majesty of heaven—and all their machinations have a direct tendency to destroy human happiness—the wealth of the nation, and that universal good-will among men which the gospel is intended to establish. Such men present to us the various features of antichrist, the dread enemy of mankind.

The duty of every intelligent creature is to watch the operations of nature, that he may be led to just perceptions of the greatness of the Creator, and the goodness of his immutable laws. Soon he finds his perceptions dim, and is conscious of evil propensities, which baffle all his efforts at sinless perfection. He finds nothing in nature to solve the solemn inquiry how sin is to be pardoned, and evil thoughts and habits to be rooted out. The convinced sinner then feels the necessity of a direct revelation from God; and in the Bible alone he finds that astounding declaration, which leaves all human philosophy at an immeasurable distance—'Ye must be born again.' God only can effect the wondrous change—man, priest, prophet, or magi, can do him no good—his terror-stricken conscience drives him to his Creator, and faith in the Redeemer causes consolation to abound.

In every kingdom of the world, the Christian inquirer is met by the opposition of antichrist, in some form or other, attempts will be made to limit his free-born spirit to human inventions and mediations in seeking Divine mercy. He feels that he is bound, by all his hopes of happiness, here and hereafter, to obey God rather than man, in everything pertaining to spiritual religion. In his simple obedience to the Word of God, he braves all dangers, sure of the Divine blessing and support while encountering obloquy, contempt, allurements, and persecution, in its varied polluted forms and appalling cruelties.

After the decease of Oliver Cromwell, it soon became apparent that the exiled king would be restored. In the prospect of that event, Charles II promised a free pardon to all his subjects, excepting only such persons as should be excepted by parliament; and 'we do declare a liberty to tender consciences, and that no man shall be disquieted or called in question for differences of opinion in matters of religion, which do not disturb the peace of the kingdom.' Who could imagine, that, in the face of this solemn declaration, acts, the most oppressive and tyrannical, would be passed—compelling pretended uniformity in belief and real uniformity in the mode of public worship—driving the most pious and useful clergymen from their pulpits and livings—preventing them from becoming tutors or schoolmasters—and not suffering them to live within five miles of a city or town. Ruinous penalties were inflicted, not only on every minister, but upon every hearer, who met to worship God in private houses or in the fields and woods. Christians, convinced of the wickedness of such laws, strove, by every possible means, to evade the penalties, with a stern determination to worship God in the way that their conscience led them. They met their beloved ministers in private places, and at the most unseasonable hours. It is said that Bunyan, to avoid discovery, went from a friend's house disguised as a carter; with his white frock, wide-awake cap, and his whip in his hand, to attend a private meeting in a sheltered field or barn. To prevent these meetings, severe and almost arbitrary penalties were enforced, a considerable part of which went to the informers—men of debauched habits and profligate principles. With all their vigilance, these prohibited meetings could not be prevented. In some cases, the persecuted disciples of a persecuted Lord took houses adjoining each other, and, by opening internal communications, assembled together. In some cases, the barn or room in which they met, had a door behind the pulpit, by which the preacher could escape. A curious letter, preserved in the archives at Devonshire House, states, that when a Christian assembly was held near Devonshire Square, while the minister was in his sermon, the officers and trained bands entered the meeting-house. The preacher immediately ceased preaching, and gave out the lines of a hymn, which the congregation joined in singing, and the officers waited till the devotional exercise was ended. The preacher, taking advantage of their hesitation, made his escape by a door at the back of the pulpit; 'thus,' says the quaint Quaker, 'he choked the informers off with his hymn.' In the Life of Badman are some illustrative anecdotes relating to informers and their violent ends, with an interesting cut of a religious meeting in the fields. One informer is in a neighbouring tree, to identify the meeters; while in the distance, another is running for the officers, with this verse under the print:—

`Informer, art thou in the tree?
Take heed, lest there thou hanged be:
Look likewise to thy foot-hold well;
Lest, if thou slip, thou fall to hell.'

In many cases the justices considered a field preacher to be equally guilty with a regicide.210 One of the informers, named W. S., was very diligent in this business; 'he would watch a-nights, climb trees, and range the woods a-days, if possible to find out the meeters, for then they were forced to meet in the fields.' At length he was stricken by the hand of God, and died a most wretched object.211 The cruelties that were inflicted upon Dissenters are scarcely credible. Penn, the Quaker, gives this narrative of facts:—The widow's mite hath not escaped their hands; they have made her cow the forfeit of her conscience, not leaving her a bed to lie on, nor a blanket to cover her; and what is yet more barbarous, and helps to make up this tragedy, the poor helpless orphan's milk, boiling over the fire, was flung away, and the skillet made part of their prize; that, had not nature in neighbours been stronger than cruelty in informers and officers, to open her bowels for their relief, they must have utterly perished.212 One of these infamous, hardhearted wretches in Bedford, was stricken, soon after, with death; and such had been his notorious brutality, that his widow could not obtain a hearse, but was obliged to carry his body to the grave in a cart.

210 Macaulay's History of England, vol. i.

211 Life of Badman.

212 Penn's England's Interest, 4to, 1676, p. 2.

It is gratifying to leave these horrors—these stains upon our national history—for a moment, to record an event which took place about fifty years back. The Rev. S. Hillyard, the pastor of Bunyan's church, thus writes:—'When our meeting-house was lately repaired, we were allowed, by the Lord Lieutenant and the justices, to carry on our public worship, for a quarter of a year in the town-hall, where, if it had been standing in Mr. Bunyan's time, he must have been tried and committed to jail for preaching.' How different our position from that of our pilgrim forefathers.

The justices, if the law had allowed them, would, from the first, have prevented Bunyan's preaching. When they had the power, he possessed nothing to excite the cupidity of an informer: this, with the caution of his friends, saved him, for some months, from being apprehended; they met privately in barns, milk-houses, and stables, or in any convenient place in which they were not likely to be disturbed. In addition to these services, every opportunity was embraced to visit his friends—praying with them, and administering consolation, arming them with a steady resolve to be patient in suffering, and to trust in God for their safety and reward. At length an information was laid, and he was caught in the very act of worshipping God with some pious neighbours. Bunyan's account of this event is deeply interesting; but the want of sufficient space prevents my giving more than an abstract of it, referring the reader to his Grace Abounding for fuller details.

On November 12, 1660, as the winter was setting in, having been invited to preach at Samsell, in Bedfordshire, he prepared a sermon upon these words—'Dost thou believe in the Son of God?' (Joh 9:35); from which he intended 'to show the absolute need of faith in Jesus Christ, and that it was also a thing of the highest concern for men to inquire into, and to ask their own hearts whether they had faith or no.'213 He had then been a preacher of the glorious gospel of Christ for five or six years, without any interruption; for, although indicted, he had continued his useful career, and through grace had received great encouragement and eminent proofs of the Divine blessing.

213 Vol. ii., p. 593.

Francis Wingate, a neighbouring justice of the peace, having heard of the intended meeting, issued his warrant to bring the preacher before him. The intention of the magistrate was whispered about, and came to Bunyan's ears before the meeting was held, probably to give him an opportunity of escape. His friends, becoming alarmed for his safety, advised him to forego the opportunity. It was a trying moment for him; he had a beloved wife to whom he had not been long married, and four dear children, one of them blind, depending upon his daily labour for food. If he escaped, he might continue his stolen opportunities of doing good to the souls of men. He hesitated but for a few minutes for private prayer; he had hitherto shown himself hearty and courageous in preaching, and it was his business to encourage the timid flock. `Therefore, thought I, if I should now run and make an escape, it will be of a very ill savour in the country; what will my weak and newly converted brethren think of it? If I should run, now there was a warrant out for me, I might, by so doing, make them afraid to stand when great words only should be spoken to them.' He retired into a close, privately, to seek Divine direction, and came back resolved to abide the will of God. It was the first attempt, near Bedford, to apprehend a preacher of the gospel, and he thus argued with himself—'If God, of his mercy, should choose me to go upon the forlorn hope, that is, to be the first that should be opposed for the gospel, if I should fly it might be a discouragement to the whole body that should follow after. And I thought that the world thereby would take occasion at my cowardliness, to have blasphemed the gospel.'214 These considerations brought him to the noble resolution of fulfilling his duty, under all its difficulties and dangers. In these reasonings the same honourable decision of mind animated him which impelled Daniel, and the three Hebrew youths, to violate the wicked laws of the nation in which they lived, because these laws were opposed to the will of God. He and they, as well as the apostles, judged for themselves, and opposed statutes or ancient customs which, in their opinion, were contrary to the Divine law by which they were to be judged at the solemn and great day. Nor did they, in the prospect of the most dread personal sufferings, hesitate to follow the convictions of their minds. Some laws are more honoured in the breach than in the observance of them. The law of Pharaoh to destroy the male children of the Israelites, in ancient times, and the present Popish laws of Tuscany, that the Bible shall not be read, are laws so contrary to common sense, and the most sacred duties of man, that 'God dealt well' with those who broke them in Egypt, as he has ever dealt with those who have thus honoured him. The millions of prayers that were offered up for a blessing upon the confessors, Madiai, have been answered. Had they perished in the prisons of Tuscany, they would have joined the noble army of martyrs before the throne of God, to witness his judgments upon that persecuting church which has shed so much holy blood.

214 Vol. i., p. 51.

When Bunyan was advised to escape by dismissing the meeting, which consisted of about forty persons, he replied, 'No, by no means; I will not stir, neither will I have the meeting dismissed. Come, be of good cheer, let us not be daunted; our cause is good, we need not be ashamed of it; to preach God's Word is so good a work, that we shall be well rewarded if we suffer for that.'215 All this took place about an hour before the officers arrived. The service was commenced with prayer at the time appointed, the preacher and hearers had their Bibles in their hands to read the text, when the constable and his attendants came in, and, exhibiting the warrant, ordered him to lave the pulpit and come down; but he mildly told him that he was about his Master's business, and must rather obey his Lord's voice than that of man. Then a constable was ordered to fetch him down, who, coming up and taking hold of his coat, was about to remove him, when Mr. Bunyan fixed his eyes steadfastly upon him; having his Bible open in his hand, the man let go, looked pale, and retired; upon which he said to the congregation, 'See how this man trembles at the Word of God.' Truly did one of his friends say, 'he had a sharp, quick eye.' But being commanded in the king's name, he went with the officer, accompanied by some of his friends, to the magistrate's residence. Before they left, the constable allowed him to speak a few words to the people of counsel and encouragement. He declared that it was a mercy when called to suffer upon so good an account; that it was of grace that they had been kept from crimes, which might have caused their apprehension as thieves and murderers, or for some wickedness; but by the blessing of God it was not so, but, as Christians, they were called to suffer for well-doing; and that we had better be persecuted than the persecutors. The constable took him to the justice's house, but as he was from home, to save the expense and trouble of charging a watch to secure his prisoner, he allowed him to go home, one of his friends undertaking to be answerable for his appearance the next day. On the following morning they went to the constable and then to the justice. The celebrated Quaker, John Roberts, managed an affair of that kind better. There was plenty of time to have held and dismissed the meeting before the constable arrived, and then he might have done as Roberts did—made the best of his way to the magistrate's house, and demanded, `Dost thou want me, old man?' and when asked whether or not he went to church, his ready reply was, `Yes, sometimes I go to the church, and sometimes the church comes to me.'216

215 Vol. i., p. 51.

216 This very interesting Memoir was published by the Society of Friends, 1825.

When Bunyan and the constable came before Justice Wingate, he inquired what the meeters did, and what they had with them; suspecting that they met armed, or for treasonable practices: but when the constable told him that they were unarmed, and merely assembled to preach and hear the Word, he could not well tell what to say. Justice Wingate was not the only magistrate who had felt difficulties as to the construction of the persecuting acts of 35 Eliz. and 15 Chas. II. Had he taken an opinion, as one of the justices at that time did, it might have saved him from the infamy and guilt of punishing an innocent man. The case was this:—'Two persons of insolent behaviour, calling themselves informers, demanded, on their evidence of having been present, without summons or hearing in presence of the accused, that a fine of £100 should be levied; they were at the meeting and heard no Common Prayer service.' The opinion was that there must be evidence showing the intent, and that the meeting was held under colour and pretence of any exercise of religion to concoct sedition.217 Mr. Wingate asked Bunyan why he did not follow his calling and go to church? to which he replied, that all his intention was to instruct and counsel people to forsake their sins, and that he did, without confusion, both follow his calling and preach the Word. At this the angry justice ordered his commitment to jail, refusing bail, unless he would promise to give up preaching. While his mittimus was preparing, he had a short controversy with an old enemy of the truth, Dr. Lindale, and also with a persecuting justice, Mr. Foster, who, soon after, sorely vexed the people of God at Bedford. They tried their utmost endeavours to persuade him to promise not to preach; a word from him might have saved his liberty; but it was a word which would have sacrificed his religious convictions, and these were dearer to him than life itself. This was a trying moment, but he had been forewarned of his danger by the extraordinary temptation to sell Christ narrated in his Grace Abounding. His feelings, while they were conducting him to the prison, were so cheering as to enable him to forget his sorrows; he thus describes them—'Verily, as I was going forth of the doors I had much ado to forbear saying to them, that I carried the peace of God along with me; and, blessed be the Lord, I went away to prison with God's comfort in my poor soul.'218

217 Case and Opinion, under the head `Conventicles,' British Museum. There is also a rare Tract, to prove that the Persecuting Acts expired Oct. 24th, 1670.

218 Vol. i., p. 54. How unspeakable the mercy, that the persecutor cannot plunge his implements of torture into he spirit, nor prevent its intercourse with heaven!

A very deeply interesting narrative of all the particulars of this examination and form of trial, was recorded by the sufferer. See vol. i., p. 50.

Tradition points out the place in which this eminently pious man was confined, as an ancient prison, built with the bridge over the river Ouse, supported on one of the piers near the middle of the river.219 As the bridge was only four yards and a half wide, the prison must have been very small. Howard, the philanthropist, visited the Bedford prison, that which was dignified as the county jail about 1788, and thus describes it:—'The men and women felons associate together; their night-rooms are two dungeons. Only one court for debtors and felons; and no apartment for the jailer.'220 Imagination can hardly realize the miseries of fifty or sixty pious men and women, taken from a place of public worship and incarcerated in such dens or dungeons with felons, as was the case while Bunyan was a prisoner. Twelve feet square was about the extent of the walls; for it occupies but one pier between the center arches of the bridge. How properly does the poor pilgrim call it a certain DEN! What an abode for men and women who had been made by God kings and priests—the heirs of heaven! The eyes of Howard, a Dissenter, penetrated these dens, these hidden things of darkness, these abodes of cruelty. He revealed what lay and clerical magistrates ought to have published centuries before, that they were not fit places in which to imprison any, even the worst of criminals. He denounced them, humanity shuddered at the discovery, and they were razed to their foundations. In this den God permitted his honoured servant, John Bunyan, to be incarcerated for more than twelve years of the prime of his life. A man, whose holy zeal for the salvation of sinners, whose disinterested labours, whose sufferings for Christ prove his apostolical descent much better than those who claim descent from popes, and Wolsey or Bonner—those fiends in human shape.

219 There were three prisons in Bedford—the county jail, the bridewell, and the tower jail. No decisive evidence has been discovered as to which prison Bunyan was committed. Two views of the bridge and prison are given in the plate at p. 63, vol. i.

220 Howard's Account of Lazarettos, &c. 4to, 1789, p. 150.

Bedford bridge was pulled down in the year 1811, when the present handsome bridge was built. One of the workmen employed upon the ruins found, among the rubbish, where the prison had stood, a ring made of fine gold, bearing an inscription which affords strong presumptive evidence that it belonged to our great allegorist. Dr. Abbot, a neighbouring clergyman, who had daily watched the labours of the workmen, luckily saw it, and saved it from destruction. He constantly wore it, until, drawing near the end of his pilgrimage, in*** 1817, he took it off his own finger and placed it upon that of his friend Dr. Bower, then curate of Elstow,221 and at present the dean of Manchester, charging him to keep it for his sake.222 This ring must have been a present from some person of property, as a token of great respect for Bunyan's pious character, and probably from an indignant sense of his unjust and cruel imprisonment. By the kind permission of the dean, we are enabled to give a correct representation of this curious relic.223

***Impression of a Seal on a gold ring found in the foundation of the old prison, Bedford Bridge.

221 Elstow is a perpetual curacy or vicarage, worth at that time only £35 per annum! forming one of the discreditable anomalies of the church, in the division of its immense revenues.

222 He has favoured us with the following description of it:—'The ring is of fine gold, very like in colour to that which has been brought into this country from California. The head is, I think, engraven, but the letters have not that sharpness about them which indicates the engraving tool; and the I. B. are undoubted indents made after the ring was finished.' It is not the usual emblem of a mourning gift, for that would have the cross-bones under the skull; it was more probably given as a special mark of esteem. Three things are certain-1', That it so valuable a gift excited the poor man's pride, its loss must have been a serious annoyance to one whose family was dependent upon his daily labour. 2d, His preaching talent must have been highly appreciated, before he was known as the author of the Pilgrim's Progress, to have brought him so valuable a token of respect. But the most pleasing and remarkable reflection, is the surprising progress of good-will among men of various denominations, that a ring, worn by a despised and persecuted Nonconformist of a former age, is now highly prized and worn, from respect to his memory, by a dignified clergyman of the Established church.

223 This was not his only ring; he left, inter alia, all his rings to his wife. See. p. lxxii.

Bunyan was thirty-two years of age when taken to prison. He had suffered the loss of his pious wife, whose conversation and portion had been so blessed to him. It is not improbable that her peaceful departure is pictured in Christiana's crossing the river which has no bridge. She left him with four young children, one of whom very naturally and most strongly excited his paternal feelings, from the circumstance of her having been afflicted with blindness. He had married a second time, a woman of exemplary piety and retiring modesty; but whose spirit, when roused to seek the release of her beloved husband, enabled her to stand unabashed, and full of energy and presence of mind, before judges in their courts, and lords in their mansions. When her partner was sent to jail, she was in that peculiar state that called for all his sympathy and his tenderest care. The shock was too severe for her delicate situation; she became dangerously ill, and, although her life was spared, all hopes had fled of her maternal feelings being called into exercise. Thus did one calamity follow another; still he preserved his integrity.224

224 After he had lain in jail five or six days, an application was made to a liberal justice at Elstow, named Crumpton, to release him on bail; but he declined, fearing to give offence. He, however, so felt for this persecuted servant of Christ, as to sell him an edifice and barn, which, upon his release, was converted into a large meeting-house.

Bunyan was treated with all the kindness which many of his jailers dared to show him. In his times, imprisonment and fetters were generally companions. Thus he says—'When a felon is going to be tried, his fetters are still making a noise on his heels.'225 So the prisoners in the Holy War are represented as being `brought in chains to the bar' for trial. 'The prisoners were handled by the jailer so severely, and loaded so with irons, that they died in the prison.'226 In many cases, prisoners for conscience' sake were treated with such brutality, before the form of trial, as to cause their death. By Divine mercy, Bunyan was saved from these dreadful punishments, which have ceased as civilization has progressed, and now cloud the narratives of a darker age.

225 Vol. ii., p. 107.

226 Vol. iii., p. 341, 366. 

After having lain in prison about seven weeks, the session was held at Bedford, for the county; and Bunyan was placed at the bar, indicted for devilishly and perniciously abstaining from coming to church to hear Divine service, and as a common upholder of several unlawful meetings and conventicles, to the great disturbance and distraction of the good subjects of this kingdom, contrary to the laws of our sovereign lord the king. In this indictment Bunyan is not described as 'of Elstow' but 'of Bedford.' Probably he had removed to Bedford soon after he joined Gifford's church. The bench was numerous, and presided over by Justice Keelin.227 If this was Sergeant Kelynge who, the following year, was made Lord Chief-Justice, he was a most arbitrary tyrant, equaled or excelled only by Judge Jeffreys. It was before him that some persons were indicted for attending a conventicle; but it being only proved that they had assembled on the Lord's-day with Bibles in their hands without prayer-books, and there being no proof that their meeting was only under colour or pretence of religion, the jury acquitted them. Upon this he fined each of the jury-men one hundred marks, and imprisoned them till the fines were paid. Again, on a trial for murder, the prisoner being under suspicion of Dissent, was one whom the judge had a great desire to hang, he fined and imprisoned all the jury because, contrary to his direction, they brought in a verdict of manslaughter! Well was it said, that he was more fit to charge the Roundheads under Prince Rupert than to charge a jury. After a short career, he fell into utter contempt.228 He entered into a long argument with the poor tinker, about using the liturgy of the Church of England, first warning him of his danger if he spake lightly of it. Bunyan argued that prayer was purely spiritual, the offering of the heart, and not the reading of a form. The justice declared—'We know the Common Prayer-book hath been ever since the apostles' time, and is lawful to be used in the church!!' It is surprising that such a dialogue was ever entered upon; either Keling was desirous of triumphing over the celebrated tinker, or his countenance and personal appearance commanded respect. For some cause he was treated with great liberality for those times; the extent of it may be seen by one justice asking him, 'Is your God Beelzebub?' and another declaring that he was possessed with the devil! 'All which,' says Bunyan, 'I passed over, the Lord forgive them!' When, however, the justice was worsted in argument, and acknowledged that he was not well versed in Scripture, he demanded the prisoner's plea, saying, 'Then you confess the indictment?' `Now,' says Bunyan, 'and not till now, I saw I was indicted; and said—"This I confess, we have had many meetings together, both to pray to God, and to exhort one another; and that we had the sweet comforting presence of the Lord among us for our encouragement (blessed be his name!); therefore I confess myself guilty, and no otherwise."' This was recorded as a plea of guilty, and Keling resumed his natural ferocity. `Then,' said he, 'hear your judgment. You must be had back again to prison, and there lie for three months following; and then, if you do not submit to go to church to hear Divine service, and leave your preaching, you must be banished the realm; and after that, if you shall be found in this realm without special license from the king, you must stretch by the neck for it. I tell you plainly'; 'and so he bid my jailer have me away.' The hero answered—'I am at a point with you: if I were out of prison to-day, I would preach the gospel again to-morrow, by the help of God.'229

227 From his autograph, in the editor's possession, he spelt his name John Keling.

228 Lord Campbell's lives of the Chief Justices.

229 Vol. i., p. 57. This forcibly reminds us of Greatheart's reply to Giant Maul—'I am a servant of the God of heaven; my business is to persuade sinners to repentance; if to prevent this be thy quarrel, let us fall to it as soon as thou wilt,' vol. iii., p. 210. Southey attempts to vindicate the justices in condemning Bunyan, and grossly misstates the facts; deeming him to be unreasonable and intolerant; that preaching was incompatible with his calling, and that he ought not to have sacrificed his liberty in such a cause! The poet-laureate makes these assertions, knowing the vast benefits which sprung from the determined piety and honesty of the persecuted preacher. Would not By-ends, Facing-both-ways, and Save-all, have jumped to the same conclusion?  

The statutes, by virtue of which this awful sentence was pronounced, together with the legal form of recantation used by those who were terrified into conformity, are set forth in a note to the Grace Abounding.230 Bunyan was, if not the first, one of the first Dissenters who were proceeded against after the restoration of Charles II; and his trial, if such it may be called, was followed by a wholesale persecution. The king, as head of the Church of England, wreaked his vengeance upon all classes of Dissenters, excepting Roman Catholics and Jews.

230 Vol. i., p. 56.

The reign of Charles II was most disgraceful and disastrous to the nation, even the king being a pensioner upon the French court. The Dutch swept the seas, and threatened to burn London; a dreadful plague depopulated the metropolis—the principal part of which was, in the following year, with its cathedral, churches, and public buildings, destroyed by fire; plots and conspiracies alarmed the people; tyranny was triumphant; even the bodies of the illustrious dead were exhumed, and treated with worse than savage ferocity; while a fierce persecution raged throughout the kingdom, which filled the jails with Dissenters.

In Scotland, the persecution raged with still more deadly violence. Military, in addition to civil despotism, strove to enforce the use of the Book of Common Prayer. The heroic achievements and awful suffering of Scottish Christians saved their descendants from this yoke of bondage.231

231 Every Christian should read the appalling account of these sufferings, recently published under the title of Ladies of the Covenant.

A short account of the extent of the sufferings of our pious ancestors is given in the Introduction to the Pilgrim's Progress232—a narrative which would appear incredible did it not rest upon unimpeachable authority. It would be difficult to believe the records of the brutal treatment which the sufferers underwent had they not been handed down to us in the State Trials, and in public registers, over which the persecuted had no control. Two instances will show the extreme peril in which the most learned and pious men held their lives. John James, the pastor of a Baptist church in Whitechapel, was charged, upon the evidence of a perjured drunken vagabond named Tipler, a pipe-maker's journeyman, who was not present in the meeting, but swore that he heard him utter treasonable words. Notwithstanding the evidence of some most respectable witnesses, who were present during the whole service, and distinctly proved that no such words were used, Mr. James was convicted, and sentenced to be hung. His distracted wife saw the king, presented a petition, and implored mercy, when the unfeeling monarch replied, '0! Mr. James; he is a sweet gentleman.' Again, on the following morning, she fell at his feet, beseeching his royal clemency, when he spurned her from him, saying, 'John James, that rogue, he shall be hanged; yea, he shall be hanged.' And, in the presence of his weeping friends, he ascended from the gibbet to the mansions of the blessed. His real crime was, that he continued to preach after having been warned not to do so by John Robinson, lieutenant of the Tower, properly called, by Mr. Crosby,233 a devouring wolf, upon whose head the blood of this and other innocent Dissenters will be found. Another Dissenting minister, learned, pious, loyal, and peaceful, was, during Bunyan's time, marked for destruction. Thomas Rosewell was tried before the monster Jeffreys. He was charged, upon the evidence of two infamous informers, with having doubted the power of the king to cure the kings' evil, and with saying that they should overcome their enemies with rams' horns, broken platters, and a stone in a sling. A number of most respectable witnesses deposed to their having been present; that no such words were uttered, and that Mr. Rosewell was eminent for loyalty and devoted attachment to the Government. Alas! he was a Dissenting teacher of high standing, of extensive acquirements, and of great earnestness in seeking the salvation of sinners; and, under the direction of that brutal judge, the venal jury found him guilty, and he was sentenced to be hung. This frightful sentence would have been executed but from a singular interposition of Providence. Sir John Talbot was present during the trial, and a stranger to Mr. Rosewell; but he was so struck with the proceedings, that he hastened to the king, related the facts, and added, 'that he had seen the life of a subject, who appeared to be a gentleman and a scholar, in danger, upon such evidence as he would not hang his dog on.' And added, 'Sire, if you suffer this man to die, we are none of us safe in our own houses.' At this moment Jeffreys came in, gloating over his prey, exulting in the innocent blood he was about to shed, when, to his utter confusion, the king said, `Mr. Rosewell shall not die'; and his pardon was issued under the great seal.234 Every Englishman should read the state trials of that period, recording the sufferings of Richard Baxter, William Penn, Sir H. Vane, and many others of our most pious forefathers; and they must feel that it was a miracle of mercy that saved the life of Bunyan, and gave him leisure to write not only his popular allegories, but the most valuable treatises in the English language upon subjects of the deepest importance.

232 Vol. iii., p. 17.

233 History of Baptists, vol. ii., p. 172. Robinson was a nephew of Archbishop Laud, and appeared to inherit his evil spirit.

234 Wilson's History of Dissenting Churches, and the Trial of Rosewell.

When he entered the prison, his first and prayerful object was to levy a tax upon his affliction—to endeavour to draw honey from the carcass of the lion. His care was to render his imprisonment subservient to the great design of showing forth the glory of God by patient submission to His will. Before his commitment, he had a strong presentiment of his sufferings; his earnest prayer, for many months, was that he might, with composure, encounter all his trials, even to an ignominious death. This led him to the solemn consideration of reckoning himself, his wife, children, health, enjoyments, all as dying, and in perfect uncertainty, and to live upon God, his invisible but ever-present Father.

Like an experienced military commander, he wisely advises every Christian to have a reserve for Christ in case of dire emergency. 'We ought to have a reserve for Christ, to help us at a dead lift. When profession and confession will not do; when loss of goods and a prison will not do; when loss of country and of friends will not do; when nothing else will do, then willingly to lay down our lives for his name.'235 In the midst of all these dread uncertainties, his soul was raised to heavenly contemplations of the future happiness of the saints of God.

235 Vol. i., p. 198; and Grace Abounding, No. 326.

It is deeply impressive to view a man, with gigantic intellect, involved in the net which was laid to trammel his free spirit, disregarding his own wisdom; seeking guidance from heaven in earnest prayer, and in searching the sacred Scriptures; disentangling himself, and calmly waiting the will of his heavenly Father. Still he severely felt the infirmities of nature. Parting with his wife and children, he described as 'the pulling the flesh from the bones. I saw I was as a man who was pulling down his house upon the head of his wife and children; yet, thought I, I must do it.'236 His feelings were peculiarly excited to his poor blind Mary.237 '0! the thoughts of the hardships my poor blind one might go under, would break my heart in pieces.' It is one of the governing principles of human nature, that the most delicate or afflicted child excites our tenderest feelings. 'I have seen men,' says Bunyan, 'take most care of, and best provide for those of their children that have been most infirm and helpless; and our Advocate "shall gather his lambs with his arms, and carry them in his bosom."`[238] While in this state of distress, the promise came to his relief—'Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me.' He had heard of the miseries of those banished Christians who had been sold into slavery, and perished with cold and calamities, lying in ditches like poor, forlorn, desolate sheep.

236 Vol. i., p. 48.

237 Baptized at Elstow, July 20, 1650.

At the end of three months he became anxious to know what the enemies of the cross intended to do with him. His sentence was transportation and death, unless he conformed. To give up or shrink from his profession of Christ, by embracing the national forms and submitting his conscience to human laws, he dared not. He resolved to persevere even at the sacrifice of his life. To add to his distress, doubts and fears clouded his prospects of futurity; 'Satan,' said he, 'laid hard at me to beat me out of heart.' At length he came to the determination to venture his eternal state with Christ, whether he had present comfort or not. His state of mind he thus describes—'If God doth not come in (to comfort me) I will leap 238 off the ladder, even blindfold, into eternity, sink or swim, come heaven, come hell. Lord Jesus, if thou wilt catch me, do; I will venture all for thy name.' From this time he felt a good hope and great consolation.

238 Vol. i., p. 168. 

The clerk of the peace, Mr. Cobb, was sent by the justices to persuade him to conform, and had a very long and interesting conference with him in the prison. This shows that the magistrates were well convinced that he was a leader in nonconformity, who, if brought over, would afford them a signal triumph. In fact, he was called, by a beneficed clergyman, 'the most notorious schismatic in all the county of Bedford.'239 It is perhaps to the arguments of Cobb that he refers in his Advice to Sufferers. `The wife of the bosom lies at him, saying, 0 do not cast thyself away; if thou takest this course, what shall I do? Thou hast said thou lovest me; now make it manifest by granting this my small request—Do not still remain in thine integrity. Next to this come the children, which are like

239 Vol. ii., p. 279.

to come to poverty, to beggary, to be undone, for want of wherewithal to feed, and clothe, and provide for them for time to come. Now also come kindred, and relations, and acquaintance; some chide, some cry, some argue, some threaten, some promise, some flatter, and some do all to befool him for so unadvised an act as to cast away himself, and to bring his wife and children to beggary for such a thing as religion. These are sore temptations.'240 It was during this period of his imprisonment that the mad attempt was made, by Venner and his rabble, to overturn the government. This was pressed upon Bunyan as a reason why he should not hold meetings for religious exercises, but rely upon his more private opportunities of exhorting his neighbours. In reply to this, Mr. Cobb is reminded of Bunyan's well-known loyalty, which would become useful in proportion to his public teaching. It was a pleasing inerview, which, while it did not for a moment shake his determination, led him to thank Mr. Cobb for his civil and meek discourse, and to ejaculate a heartfelt prayer—'O that we might meet in heaven.'241 The whole of it is reprinted at the end of the Grace Abounding, and it shows that God gave him favour even with his persecutors. It Is not surprising that such a prisoner should have won the good opinion of his jailer, so that he was permitted the consolation of seeing his relatives and friends, who ministered to his comforts.

240 Vol. ii., p. 733.

241 Vol. i., p. 60.

When the time arrived for the execution of the bitterest part of his sentence, God, in his providence, interposed to save the life of his servant. He had familiarized his mind with all the circumstances of a premature and appalling death; the gibbet, the ladder, the halter, had lost much of their terrors; he had even studied the sermon he would then have preached to the concourse of spectators. At this critical time the king's coronation took place, on April 23, 1661. To garnish this grand ceremony, the king had ordered the release of numerous prisoners of certain classes, and within that description of offences was that for which Bunyan was confined. The proclamation allowed twelve months' time to sue out the pardon under the great seal, but without this expensive process thousands of vagabonds and thieves were set at liberty, while, alas, an offence against the church was not to be pardoned upon such easy terms. Bunyan and his friends were too simple, honest, and virtuous, to understand why such a distinction should be made. The assizes being held in August, he determined to seek his liberty by a petition to the judges. The court sat at the Swan Inn, and as every incident in the life of this extraordinary man excites our interest, we are gratified to have it in our power to exhibit the state of this celebrated inn at that time.242

Old Swan Jim, Bedford. (See book for picture)

Having written his petition, and made some fair copies of it, his modest, timid wife determined to present them to the judges. Her heroic achievements—for such they deserve to be called—on behalf of her husband, are admirably narrated by Bunyan, the whole of which is reprinted in our first volume,243 and deserves a most attentive perusal. Want of space prevents us repeating it here, or even making extracts from it. She had previously traveled to London with a petition to the House of Lords, and entrusted it to Lord Barkwood, who conferred with some of the peers upon it, and informed her that they could not interfere, the king having committed the release of the prisoners to the judges. When they came the circuit and the assizes were held at Bedford; Bunyan in vain besought the local authorities that he might have liberty to appear in person and plead for his release. This reasonable request was denied, and, as a last resource, he committed his cause to an affectionate wife. Several times she appeared before the judges; love to her husband, a stern sense of duty, a conviction of the gross injustice practiced upon one to whom she was most tenderly attached, overcame her delicate, modest, retiring habits, and forced her upon this strange duty. Well did she support the character of an advocate. This delicate, courageous, high-minded woman appeared before Judge Hale, who was much affected with her earnest pleading for one so dear to her, and whose life was so valuable to his children. It was the triumph of love, duty, and piety, over bashful timidity. Her energetic appeals were in vain. She returned to the prison with a heavy heart, to inform her husband that, while felons, malefactors, and men guilty of misdemeanours were, without any recantation or promise of amendment, to be let loose upon society to grace the coronation, the poor prisoners for conscience' sake were to undergo their unjust and savage sentences. Or, in plain words, that refusing to go to church to hear the Common Prayer was an unpardonable crime, not to be punished in any milder mode than recantation, or transportation, or the halter. With what bitter feelings must she have returned to the prison, believing that it would be the tomb of her beloved husband! How natural for the distressed, insulted wife to have written harsh things against the judge! She could not have conceived that, under the stately robes of Hale, there was a heart affected by Divine love. And when the nobleman afterwards met the despised tinker and his wife, on terms of perfect equality, clothed in more glorious robes in the mansions of the blessed, how inconceivable their surprise! It must have been equally so with the learned judge, when, in the pure atmosphere of heaven, he found that the illiterate tinker, harassed by poverty and imprisonment, produced books, the admiration of the world. As Dr. Cheever eloquently writes—'How little could he dream, that from that narrow cell in Bedford jail a glory would shine out, illustrating the grace of God, and doing more good to man, than all the prelates and judges of the kingdom would accomplish.'244

242 The cut, copied from an old drawing of the house taken before its entire demotion, at the end of last century, exhibits its quaint characteristics. The bridge foot is to the spectator's right; the church tower behind is that of St. Mary's, also seen in our view of the jail, which would, of course, be seen from the bow-windows of the old inn, in which the Judges met.

243 Vol. i., p. 60.

244 Lectures on the Pilgrim's Progress

Bunyan was thus left in a dreary and hopeless state of imprisonment, in which he continued for somewhat more than twelve years, and it becomes an interesting inquiry how he spent his time and managed to employ his great talent in his Master's service. The first object of his solicitude would be to provide for his family, according to 1Ti 5:8. How to supply his house with bare necessaries to meet the expenses of a wife and four children, must have filled him with anxiety. The illness, death, and burial of his first beloved wife, had swept away any little reserve which otherwise might have accumulated, so that, soon after his imprisonment commenced, before he could resume any kind of labour, his wife thus pleaded with the judge for his liberty, 'My lord, I have four small children that cannot help themselves, of which one is blind, and have nothing to live upon but the charity of good people.' How inscrutable are the ways of Providence; the rich reveling in luxury while using their wealth to corrupt mankind, while this eminent saint, with his family, were dependent upon charity! As soon as he could get his tools in order he set to work; and we have the following testimony to his industry by a fellow-prisoner, Mr. Wilson, the Baptist minister, and of Charles Doe, who visited him in prison:—'Nor did he, while he was in prison, spend his time in a supine and careless manner, nor eat the bread of idleness; for there have I been witness that his own hands have ministered to his and his family's necessities, making many hundred gross of long tagged laces, to fill up the vacancies of his time, which he had learned to do for that purpose, since he had been in prison. There, also, I surveyed his library, the least, but yet the best that e'er I saw—the Bible and the Book of Martyrs.245 And during his imprisonment (since I have spoken of his library), he writ several excellent and useful treatises, particularly The Holy City, Christian Behaviour, The Resurrection of the Dead, and Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners.'246 Besides these valuable treatises, Charles Doe states that, of his own knowledge, in prison Bunyan wrote The Pilgrim's Progress, the first part, and that he had this from his own mouth.247 In addition to the demonstration of this important fact contained in the introduction to The Pilgrim's Progress, there ought to have been added, Bunyan's statement made in introducing his second part:—'Now, having taken up my lodgings in a wood about a mile off the place': no longer in 'a den,' but sheltered, in a wood, in a state of comparative, but not of perfect liberty, about a mile distant from the den in which he wrote his first part. Whether this may refer to his former cottage at Elstow, of which there is great doubt, or to the house he occupied in Bedford after his release, they were equally about a mile from the jail. He certainly means that the two parts were not written in the same place, nor is there a shadow of a doubt as to the fact that in prison the great allegory was conceived and written. Well might Mr. Doe say, 'What hath the devil or his agents got by putting our great gospel minister in prison?' They prevented his preaching to a few poor pilgrims in the villages round Bedford, and it was the means of spreading his fame, and the knowledge of the gospel, by his writings, throughout the world. Thus does the wrath of man praise God. In addition to the works above enumerated, he also published some extremely valuable tracts, several editions of a work which ought to be read by all young Christians—A Treatise on the Covenants of the Law and of Grace; several editions of Sighs from Hell; A Map of Salvation and Damnation; The Four Last Things, a poem; Mount Ebal and Gerizim, or, Redemption from the Curse, a poem; Prison Meditations, a poem: the four last are single sheets, probably sold by his children or friends to assist him in obtaining his livelihood: Justification by Faith in Jesus Christ, 4to; Confession of His Faith and Reason of His Practice. The most remarkable treatise which he published while in confinement, is on prayer, from the words of the apostle, 'I will pray with the spirit and with the understanding also.' His attention had been fixed on this subject when his free-born spirit was roused by the threat of Justice Keeling, 'Take heed of speaking irreverently of the Book of Common Prayer, for if you do you will bring great damage upon yourself.'

245 This valuable set of books came into the possession of my old friend Mr. Wontner, of the Minories, London; it descended at his decease, to his widow, who resided on Camberwell Green, and from her to a daughter, married to Mr. Parnel, an orange merchant in Botolph Lane. He was tempted to sell it to Mr. Bohn, the bookseller, from whom it was bought for the Bedford library.

246 Charles Doe in Heavenly Footman, 2d edition, 1700.

247 Introduction to the Pilgrim, vol. iii., p. 6, 7.

Bunyan had formed his ideas of prayer from heartfelt experience; it is the cry of the burthened, sinking sinner, 'Lord save us, we perish'; or adoration rising from the heart to the throne of grace, filled with hopes of pardon and immortality. In his estimation, any form of human invention was an interference with the very nature of prayer, and with the work of the Holy Spirit, who alone can inspire our souls with acceptable prayer.

In expressing his views upon this all-important subject, Bunyan was simply guided by a sense of duty. Fear of the consequences, or of offending his enemies, never entered his mind. He felt that they were in the hands of his heavenly Father, and that all their malice must be over-ruled for good. Notwithstanding his solemn warning not to speak irreverently of the book, his refusal to use which had subjected him to severe privations and the fear of a halter, this Christian hero was not daunted, but gives his opinion of it with all that freedom and liberty which he considered essential to excite in his fellow-men inquiries as to its origin and imposition.

It is not my province to enter into the controversy whether in public worship a form of prayer ought to be used. Let every one be persuaded in his own mind; but to pass a law denouncing those that refuse to use a prescribed form as worthy of imprisonment, transportation, or death, is an attack upon the first principles of Christianity. To punish those who spoke irreverently of it, was almost an acknowledgment that it would not bear investigation. To speak of the book as in his serious judgment it deserved, was not that mark of sectarianism which Romaine exhibited when he called the beautiful hymns of Dr. Watts, which are used so much in public worship among Dissenters, 'Watts' jingle,' and 'Watts' whims!,248 No answer appears to have been published to Bunyan's extremely interesting volume until twelve years after the author's death, when a reply appeared under the title of Liturgies Vindicated by the Dissenters, or the Lawfulness of Forms of Prayer proved against John Bunyan and the Dissenters. 1700. This is a very rare and curious volume. The author, as usual in such controversies, deals wholesale in invective, and displays all the ability of a sophist.

248 Psalmody Edit., 1775, p. 137. George Whitefield, in recommending the works of Bunyan, says, `Ministers never write or preach so well as when under the cross; the Spirit of Christ and of glory shall rest upon them' [Preface to Bunyan's Works, 1767]. Admiring the courage and honesty of Bunyan, when alluding to the Prayer-Book, we earnestly unite in his petition—'The Lord in mercy turn the hearts of his people, to seek more after the Spirit of prayer, and, in the strength of that, to pour out their souls before the Lord.'

The Christian world is indebted to Dr. Cheever for a beautiful picture of Bunyan's devotional exercise in his cell. 'It is evening; he finishes his work, to be taken home by his dear blind child. He reads a portion of Scripture, and, clasping her small hands in his, kneels on the cold stone floor, and pours out his soul to God; then, with a parting kiss, dismisses her to her mother. The rude lamp glimmers on the table; with his Bible, pen, and paper, he writes as though joy did make him write. His face is lighted as from the radiant jasper walls of the celestial city. He clasps his hands, looks upward, and blesses God for his goodness. The last you see of him—is alone, kneeling on the prison floor; he is alone with God.'

Charles Doe, who manifested most laudable anxiety to hand down the works of Bunyan to posterity, bears honourable testimony to his conduct while in prison. 'It was by making him a visit in prison that I first saw him, and became acquainted with him; and I must profess I could not but look upon him to be a man of an excellent spirit, zealous for his master's honour, and cheerfully committing all his own concernments unto God's disposal. When I was there, there were about sixty Dissenters besides himself there, taken but a little before at a religious meeting at Kaistoe, in the county of Bedford; besides two eminent Dissenting ministers, Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Dun (both very well known in Bedfordshire, though long since with God249), by which means the prison was very much crowded; yet, in the midst of all that hurry which so many newcomers occasioned, I have heard Mr. Bunyan both preach and pray with that mighty spirit of faith and plerophory of divine assistance that has made me stand and wonder.250 Here they could sing, without fear of being overheard; no informers prowling round. The world was shut out; and, in communion with heaven, they could forget their sorrows, and have a rich foretaste of the inconceivable glory of the celestial city. It was under such circumstances that Bunyan preached one of his most remarkable sermons, afterwards published under the title of The Holy City or the New Jerusalem, 1665. 'Upon a certain first-day, being together with my brethren in our prison-chamber, they expected that, according to our custom, something should be spoken out of the Word for our mutual edification. I felt myself, it being my turn to speak, so empty, spiritless, and barren, that I thought I should not have been able to speak among them so much as five words of truth with life and evidence. At last I cast mine eye upon this prophecy, when, after considering awhile, methought I perceived something of that jasper in whose light you find this holy city descended; wherefore, having got some dim glimmering thereof, and finding a desire to see farther thereinto, I with a few groans did carry my meditations to the Lord Jesus for a blessing, which he did forthwith grant, and helping me to set before my brethren, we did all eat, and were well refreshed; and behold, also, that while I was in the distributing of it, it so increased in my hand, that of the fragments that we left, after we had well dined, I gathered up this basketful. Wherefore, setting myself to a more narrow search, through frequent prayer, what first with doing and then with undoing, and after that with doing again, I thus did finish it.'251 To this singular event the religious public are indebted for one of Bunyan's ablest treatises, full of the striking sparkles of his extraordinary imagination. It was a subject peculiarly adapted to display his powers—the advent of New Jerusalem, her impregnable walls and gates of precious stones, golden streets, water of life, temple, and the redeemed from all nations flocking into it.252

249 This was published in 1698.

250 Heavenly Footman, 2d edition, 1700, p. 126.

251 Vol. iii., p. 397, 398.

252 This deeply interesting book is dedicated to four sorts of readers—the godly, the learned, the captious, and to the mother of harlots. To her he says, 'I have nothing here to please your wanton eye, or voluptuous palate; no paint for thy wrinkled face, nor crutch to support thy tottering kingdom.' It is a very amusing preface.

In these times of severe persecution, two of the church members, S. Fenn and J. Whiteman, were ordained joint pastors. Fenn has just been delivered out of prison; yet they ventured to brave the storm, and in this year, although the lions prowled before the porch, a number were added to the church. Thus was their little Jerusalem built 'even in troublous times.'

Bunyan's popularity and fame for wisdom and knowledge had spread all round the country, and it naturally brought him visitors, with their doubts, and fears, and cases of conscience. Among these a singular instance is recorded in the Life of Badman. 'When I was in prison,' says the narrator, 'there came a woman to me that was under a great deal of trouble. So I asked her, she being a stranger to me, what she had to say to me? She said she was afraid she should be damned. I asked her the cause of those fears. She told me that she had, some time since, lived with a shopkeeper at Wellingborough, and had robbed his box in the shop several times of money, and pray, says she, tell me what I shall do? I told her I would have her go to her master, and make him satisfaction. She said she was afraid lest he should hang her. I told her that I would intercede for her life, and would make use of other friends to do the like; but she told me she durst not venture that. Well, said I, shall I send to your master, while you abide out of sight, and make your peace with him before he sees you? and with that I asked her master's name. But all she said in answer to this was, pray let it alone till I come to you again. So away she went, and neither told me her master's name nor her own; and I never saw her again:253 He adds, 'I could tell you of another, that came to me with a like relation concerning herself, and the robbing of her mistress.'

253 Vol. iii., p. 610.

To his cruel imprisonment the world is indebted for the most surprising narrative of a new birth that has ever appeared. It was there that he was led to write the Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners. He displays in the preface his deep interest in the spiritual welfare of those who had been born under his ministry. He rejoices in their happiness, even while he was 'sticking between the teeth of the lions in the wilderness. I now again, as before from the top of shenir and Hermon, so now from the lions' dens, from "the mountains of the leopards," do look yet after you all, greatly longing to see your safe arrival into the desired haven.'254 How natural it was that, while narrating his own experience, he should be led to write a guide to pilgrims through time to eternity, and that it should be dated from 'the den!'

254 Vol. i., p. 4.

`And thus it was: I writing of the way
And race of saints, in this our gospel-day,
Fell suddenly into an allegory
About their journey, and the way to glory.'255

255 Author's Apology for the Pilgrim.

Any one possessing powers of imagination, to whom the adventures of Christian are familiar, would, on reading the Grace Abounding, be continually struck with the likeness there drawn of the pilgrim—the more he contemplates the two pictures of Christian experience, so much the more striking is their similarity. The one is a narrative of facts, the other contains the same facts allegorized. Thus, by an irresistible impulse from heaven upon the mind of a prisoner for Christ, did a light shine forth from the dungeon on Bedford bridge which has largely contributed to enlighten the habitable globe. The Pilgrim has been translated into most of the languages and dialects of the world. The Caffrarian and Hottentot, the enlightened Greek and Hindoo, the remnant of the Hebrew race, the savage Malay and the voluptuous Chinese—all have the wondrous narrative in their own languages. Bunyan was imprisoned by bigots and tyrants, to prevent his being heard or known; and his voice, in consequence, reaches to the ends of the earth. Let every wretched persecutor contemplate this instance of God's over-ruling power. You will surely plunge the avenging sword into your own vitals if, by persecution, you vainly endeavour to wound the saints of the living God. You may make hypocrites throw off their disguise. The real Christian may be discouraged, but he perseveres. He feels the truth of Bunyan's quaint saying, 'the persecutors are but the devil's scarecrows, the old one himself lies quat'; while the eye of God is upon him to save the children of Zion.256 His otherwise dreary imprisonment was lightened, and the time beguiled by these delightful writings. His fellow-prisoners were benefited by hearing him read his pilgrim's adventures. But this has been so fully displayed in the introduction to the Pilgrim that any further notice is unnecessary.257

256 Vol. i., p. 602.

257 Vol. iii., p. 7.

While busily occupied with his Grace Abounding and Pilgrim's Progress, he wrote a poetical epistle in answer to the kind inquiries of his numerous friends and visitors. After thanking them for counsel and advice, he describes his feelings in prison. His feet stood on Mount Zion; his body within locks and bars, while his mind was free to study Christ, and elevated higher than the stars. Their fetters could not tame his spirit, nor prevent his communion with God. The more his enemies raged, the more peace he experienced. In prison he received the visits of saints, of angels, and the Spirit of God. 'I have been able to laugh at destruction, and to fear neither the horse nor his rider. I have had sweet sights of the forgiveness of my sins in this place, and of my being with Jesus in another world.'258 If his ears were to be pierced in the pillory, it would be only 'to hang a jewel there.' The source of his happy feelings is well expressed in one of the stanzas:—

258 Grace Abounding, No. 322.

`The truth and I were both here cast
Together, and we do
Lie arm in arm, and so hold fast
Each other; this is true.'259

259 Vol. i., p. 65.*

Yes, honest John Bunyan, the world at large now gives you credit for the truth of that saying.

How strange must it seem to the luxurious worldling, with his bed of down and splendid hangings, but aching heart, to hear of the exquisite happiness of the prisoner for Christ on his straw pallet! 'When God makes the bed,' as Bunyan says, 'he must needs be easy that is cast thereon; a blessed pillow hath that man for his head, though to all beholders it is hard as a stone.'260 In the whole course of his troubles, he enjoyed the sympathy of his family and friends. his food was brought daily, and such was the vener-ation in which his memory was embalmed, that the very jug in which his broth was taken to the prison has been preserved to this day.261

260 Vol. i., p. 741.

Bunyan's Jug (See book for picture)

261 This jug is in possession of Mrs. Hillyard, widow of the late Mr. Hillyard, who was minister of the chapel for fifty years, and died in 1839. One tradition says the jug was used as noted in the text; another that his broth was brought to 'chapel' in it, for his Sunday dinner, in the vestry.

In the midst of all his sufferings he murmurs not nor for a moment gives way to revenge; he leaves the persecutor in the hands of God. Stand off, Christian; pity the poor wretch that brings down upon himself the vengeance of God. Your pitiful arm must no strike him—no, stand by, 'that God may have his full blow at him in his time. Wherefore he saith avenge not yourself—"Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord." Give place, leave such an one to be handled by me. '262

262 Vol. ii., p. 737-739.

`There are several degrees of suffering for righteousness—the scourge of the tongue, the ruin of an estate, the loss of liberty, a gaol, a gibbet, a stake, a dagger. Now answerable to these are the comforts of the Holy Ghost, prepared like to like, part proportioned to part, only the consolations are said to abound.263 The mind of Bunyan was imbued with these sentiments; baptized into them, and consequently elevated far above the fear of what man could do unto him. Yes, he knew the power of God. 'He can make those things that in themselves are most fearful and terrible to behold, the most delightful and most desirable things. He can make a gaol more beautiful than a palace, restraint more sweet by far than liberty, and the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt.'264

263 2Co 1:5; vol. ii., p. 735.

264 Vol. ii., p. 700.

The Bible, that heavenly storehouse, was opened to him: 'I never had, in all my life, so great an inlet into the Word of God as now.'265 `I have had sweet sights of forgiveness and of the heavenly Jerusalem. I have seen here that which, while in this world, I shall never be able to express.'

265 Vol. i., p. 47.

About a year before he was set at liberty he received a very popular work, written by Edward Fowler, a Bedfordshire clergyman, who was soon after elevated to the see of Gloucester. It was entitled The Design of Christianity, and professed to prove that the object of the Saviour was merely to place man in a similar position to that of Adam before the fall. It is an extremely learned production, full of Greek and Latin quotations; but, in Bunyan's estimation, it aimed a deadly blow at the foundations of Christianity. To restore man to Adam's innocency, and then to leave him to cope with Satanic subtlety, was to cut off all hopes of salvation. It was brought to him in February 1672, and in the very short period of forty-two days, Fowler's theory was most completely demolished by Bunyan's Defence of the Doctrine of Justification, 4to, dated from prison, the 27th of the 12th Month, 1671 (27th March, 1672). This was answered by a small 4to volume, entitled Dirt Wiped Off. Bunyan had used some harsh epithets; but the clergyman, or his curate, beat the tinker in abusive language. He had been by this time promoted to the rectory of Cripplegate. For an account of this controversy, the reader is referred to the introduction to Bunyan's work on Justification, and to that to the Pilgrim's Progress.266 The impression it made upon the public mind is well expressed in a rude rhyme, made by an anonymous author, in his Assembly of Moderate Divines:

`There's a moderate Doctour at Cripplegate dwells,
Whom Smythes his curate in trimming excells; But Bunyan a tinker hath tickled his gills.'

266 Vol. i., p. 278; and vol. iii., p. 13.

The last work that he wrote in prison was the confession of his faith, and reason of his practice as to mixed communion, not with the world, but with saints of other denominations. As this plunged him into a fearful controversy with his Dissenting brethren (Baptists, Independents, and Presbyterians), a notice of it will more properly be introduced in our account of that conflict. He had been incarcerated nearly twelve years, and had determined to suffer to the end. Here he found time 'to weigh, and pause, and pause again, the grounds and foundations of those principles for which he suffered,' and he was a Nonconformist still. 'I cannot, I dare not now revolt or deny my principles, on pain of eternal damnation,'267 are his impressive words. 'Faith and holiness are my professed principles, with an endeavour to be at peace with all men. Let they themselves be judges, if aught they find in my writing or preaching doth render me worthy of almost twelve years' imprisonment, or one that deserveth to be hanged or banished for ever, according to their tremendous sentence. If nothing will do unless I make of my conscience a continual butchery and slaughter-shop, unless putting out my own eyes, I commit me to the blind to lead me, I have determined, the Almighty God being my help and shield, yet to suffer, if frail life might continue so long, even until the moss shall grow over mine eye-brows, rather than to violate my faith and principles.'268 The allusion to moss growing on his eye-brows most probably referred to the damp state of his den or dungeon.

267 Vol. ii., p. 593.

268 Vol. ii., p. 594.—Heroic man! British Christians are most deeply indebted to thee, and thy fellow-sufferers, for the high privileges they now enjoy. May thy name be had in everlasting remembrance.

The continuation to the Grace Abounding, written by a friend, and published four years after his decease, divides his imprisonment into three periods; but as Bunyan makes it one continued imprisonment, there can be no doubt but that it was a long, dreary confinement; during which the testimony of his friend, Samuel Wilson, is, that it was 'an uncomfortable and close prison, and sometimes under cruel and oppressive jailers.' The division into three parts most probably alludes to the severity or liberality of his jailers. He had at times, while a prisoner, an extraordinary degree of liberty; like Joseph in Egypt, some of his jailers committed all to his hands. There can be little doubt but that he went from the prison to preach in the villages or woods, and at one time went to London to visit his admiring269 friends; but this coming to the ears of the justices, the humane jailer had well nigh lost his place, and for some time he was not permitted to look out at the door. When this had worn off, he had again opportunities of visiting his church and preaching by stealth. It is said that many of the Baptist congregations in Bedfordshire owe their origin to his midnight preaching.

269 Vol. i., p. 62.

Upon one occasion, having been permitted to go out and visit his family, with whom he intended to spend the night, long before morning he felt so uneasy that at a very late hour he went back to the prison. Information was given to a neighbouring clerical magistrate that there was strong suspicion of Bunyan having broke prison. At midnight, he sent a messenger to the jail, that he might be a witness against the merciful keeper. On his arrival, he demanded, 'Are all the prisoners safe?' the answer was, `Yes.' Is John Bunyan safe?' Yes.' `Let me see him.' He was called up and confronted with the astonished witness, and all passed off well. His kind-hearted jailer said to him, 'You may go out when you will, for you know much better when to return than I can tell you.'270

270 It has been doubted whether he was justified in thus making excursions from the prison. This may be answered by the question—Was Peter justified in leaving the prison, and going to the prayer-meeting at Mary's house? Ac 12:7-19.

During these twelve terrible years, and particularly towards the end of his imprisonment, the members and elders of his church at Bedford suffered most severely, a very abridged account of which is given in the introduction to the Pilgrim's Progress.271 The set time for his liberation was now drawing near, but the singular means by which it was accomplished must be reserved for our next chapter.

271 Vol. iii., p. 19.



As Charles II felt himself securely seated on his throne, his design to establish an absolute monarchy became more and more apparent. The adulation of his professed friends, and the noisy popularity with which he was greeted, appear to have fostered his crafty designs to rid himself of parliamentary government. His whole conduct was that of a Papist, who keeps no faith with Protestants; or of a statesman, whose religion, honour, and truthfulness, were wholly subservient to expediency. To further his object, he formed a council of five noblemen, two of whom were Roman Catholics, and the other three either careless as to religion or professed infidels. The first letter of their names formed the word CABAL. Aided by these he sought to extinguish liberty, and extirpate the Protestant faith.272 To furnish himself with the means of indulging his unbridled passions, he, like a buccaneer, seized the Dutch merchantmen returning from India and Smyrna, without any declaration of war, and laid his hands upon all the money borrowed of his merchants which had been deposited in the exchequer. He then united himself with France to destroy Holland, the stronghold of liberty. To gratify the Roman Catholics, and conciliate the Dissenters, he issued a declaration in favour of liberty of conscience, the seal to which he afterwards broke with his own hands,273 but he could not prevent a considerable degree of religious liberty arising from such vacillating conduct.

272 Rapin.

273 For an accurate copy of this declaration, see vol. iii., p. 21.

Bunyan, who had secured the confidence and esteem of his jailer, now found his prison more like a lodging-house, and enjoyed great privileges. He frequently, if not regularly, attended the church meetings, and preached with some degree of publicity. The church at Bedford was at this time in want of a pastor, and their eyes were naturally fixed upon Bunyan to succeed to that important office. There were two weighty considerations that required Divine guidance in coming to a conclusion. One was, whether it might injuriously affect the prisoner's comforts, and the other was, the propriety of making choice of a Christian brother to be their ministering elder, while incarcerated in a jail. Feeling these difficulties, the church held several meetings on the subject, the minutes of which are very interesting. The first was held at Hawnes, on the 24th of the eighth month (October) 1671, when 'the improvement of the gifts of the church, and their disposal in an orderly way, were proposed to consideration, that God might be sought for direction therein; and a time further to consider and debate thereof, was appointed this day seven-night, at evening, at Bedford, where the principal brethren were desired for that purpose to come together, at brother John Fenn's; and a church-meeting was appointed to be there that day week. The church was also minded to seek God about the choice of brother, Bunyan to the office of elder, that their way in that respect may be cleared up to them.' At a meeting held at Bedford, on the last day of the ninth month (November), there was appointed another meeting 'to pray and consult about concluding the affair before propounded, concerning gifts of the brethren to be improved, and the choice of brother Bunyan to office, at Gamlingay, on the 14th day, and at Hawnes, the 20th, and at Bedfod, the 21st of the same instant, which it was desired might be a general meeting.' After all this jealous care, and these fervent applications to the throne of grace for divine guidance, the result was most gratifying. 'At a full assembly of the church at Bedford, the 21st of the tenth month,274 after much seeking God by prayer and sober conference formally had, the congregation did at this meeting, with joynt consent, signified by solemn lifting up of their hands, call forth and appoint our brother John Bunyan to the pastoral office or eldership. And he accepting thereof, gave himself up to serve Christ and his Church, in that charge, and received of the elders the right hand of fellowship, after having preached fifteen years.' The choice thus solemnly made, was ratified by the abundant blessings of heavenly union and great prosperity—no stranger or novice, but one whose preaching and writings had proved most acceptable to them for a series of years—on that had been owned and blessed of his God, and whom the church delighted to honour.

274 The ecclesiastical year commenced in March. The tenth month means December.

At the same church meeting, 'The congregation having had long experience of the faithfulness of brother John Fenn in his care for the poor, did after the same manner solemnly choose him to the honourable office of a deacon, and committed their poor and purse to him, and he accepted thereof, and gave himself up to the Lord and them in that service.' The church did also determine to keep the 26th inst. as a day of fasting and prayer, both here, and at Hawnes, and at Gamlingay, solemnly to commend to the grace of God brother Bunyan and brother Fenn, and to entreat his gracious assistance and presence with them in their respective works, whereunto he hath called them.

The most extraordinary circumstance that took place at this time was, that while Bunyan was a prisoner in a wretched dungeon for preaching the glad tidings of salvation, or, in the mysterious legal jargon of the period, `holding conventicles,' he received his Majesty's license to preach, and thus to hold conventicles—it was one of the first that was granted. His Majesty continued to keep him a prisoner for preaching more than six months after he had licensed him to preach!! At the same time that the permission to preach was granted to Bunyan, the house of Josiah Roughed, Bedford, was licensed by his Majesty's command, for the use of such as do not conform to the Church of England. In this John Bunyan was authorized to teach, or in any other licensed place.275 These were among the first licenses that were granted. The present highly-respected pastor of the church considers that this license does not refer to Roughed's private dwelling, but rather to 'an edifice or a barn, purchased of Robert Crompton, Esq., with a piece of ground adjoining it,' in the parishes of St. Paul and Cuthbert, for £50, in 1672, by Roughed, Bunyan, Fenn, and others, and which was released by Fenn to Bunyan and others, November 10, 1681, two days before Fenn's death. This building having been properly fitted up by voluntary contribution, became permanently occupied by the church as its place of meeting, until the old chapel was erected in 1707. From this we may conclude that Bunyan was engaged in his worldly occupation as a brazier, in the year that he obtained his release from prison, and to 1681.

275 For a copy of these licenses, see vol. iii., p. 24.

How utterly contemptible does any Government become when they tamper with spiritual worship. At one period they punished Dissenters with imprisonment, transportation, and, to use Judge Keeling's elegant expression in his sentence on Bunyan, 'to stretch by the neck for it'; and anon, the very same Government, under the same king, gives them license to dissent! Human laws affecting religion can never be the standard of morality; to read the Bible is considered to be sin in Tuscany, and righteousness in Britain. The release of this great and pious man from his tedious imprisonment, has been hitherto involved in a cloud of mystery, which it will be our happiness to disperse, while we record that event in a clear, indisputable narrative of facts. His earlier biographer, Mr. Doe, not having access to archives which the lapse of time has now rendered available, attributed his release to the influence of Bishop Barlow, by the interference of Dr. Owen. It is narrated in the life of Dr. Owen, published in 1721:—'The doctor had some friends also among the bishops, Dr. Barlow, formerly his tutor, then bishop of Lincoln, who yet upon a special occasion failed him, when he might have expected the service of his professed friendship. The case was this, Mr. John Bunyan had been confined to a jail twelve years, upon an excommunication for Nonconformity. Now there was a law, that if any two persons will go to the bishop of the diocese, and offer a cautionary bond, that the prisoner shall conform in half a year, the bishop may release him upon that bond; whereupon a friend of this poor man desired Dr. Owen to give him his letter to the bishop in his behalf, which he readily granted. It was soon after the discovery of the Popish plot, when this letter was carried to the bishop, who having read it, desired "a little time to consider of it, and if I can do it, you may be assured of my readiness." He was waited upon again in about a fortnight, and his answer was, "I would desire you to move the Lord Chancellor in the case, and, upon his order, I will do it." To which it was replied, "this method would be chargeable, and the man was poor, not able to expend so much money; and, being satisfied he could do it legally, it was hoped his Lordship would remember his promise, there being no straining a point in the case. But he would do it upon no other terms, which at last was done, and the poor man released." And for this we are told that "Mr. Bunyan returned him his unfeigned thanks, and often remembered him in his prayers, as, next to God, his deliverer."' The whole of this story, so far as it relates to Bunyan, is not only improbable, but utterly impossible. Bunyan was never excommunicated, and he was certainly released from prison two or three years previous to Dr. Barlow becoming a bishop. The critical times to which he alludes, refer doubtless to the Popish plot, which took place in 1678, Bunyan having been released in 1672. The probability is, that Dr. Owen did about 1678 apply to the bishop of Lincoln for the release of some poor prisoner under sentence of excommunication, it being his province to release such prisoners upon their making peace with the Church. If this person was a friend of Bunyan's, his prayers for the bishop, and acknowledgments for this act of kindness, are readily accounted for. That Barlow had nothing to do with Bunyan's release is now perfectly clear; because all, even the minutest particulars relative to it, have been discovered. This is a very romantic history, and necessarily leads us back to the battle of Worcester. At this battle, the republicans were numerous, well disciplined, and led by experienced officers; the royal army was completely routed, and its leaders, who survived the battle, were subject to the severest privations. Charles found refuge at Boscobel House, and, disguised as a woodcutter, was hid in an oak. His adventures and hair-breadth escapes fill a volume:—the parliament offered one thousand pounds reward for his apprehension. At length, after wandering in various disguises forty days, he arrived at Brighton, then a small fishing town, and here his friends succeeded in hiring a fishing boat to take him to France. Numerous histories of this extraordinary escape were published, but no two of them agree, excepting that, to please the king, all the credit was given to Roman Catholics. Of these narratives, that by Dr. Lingard has the strangest blunder. When they left Shoreham, 'The ship stood with easy sail towards the Isle of Wight, as if she were on her way to Deal, to which port she was bound'276—Deal being exactly in the contrary direction! Carte has the best account. The vessel was bound for Poole, coal-laden; they left Shoreham at seven a.m. under easy sail; and at five, being off the Isle of Wight, with the wind north, she stood over to France, and returned to Poole, no one discovering that they had been out of their course. A letter recently discovered among the archives of the Society of Friends at Devonshire House solves every difficulty. It is written by Ellis Hookes to the wife of George Fox, dated January, 1670—

`Yesterday there was a friend (a quaker) wth the king, one that is John Groves mate, he was the may yt. was mate to the master of the fisher-boat yt carried the king away when he went from Worcester fight, and only this friend and the master knew of it in the ship, and the friend carried him (the king) ashoare on his shoulders. the king knew him again, and was very friendly to him, and told him he remembered him and of severall tings yt was done in ye ship att the same time. the friend told him the reason why he did not come all this while was yt he was satisfied in yt he had peace and satisfaction in himself yt he did what he did to releiue a man in distresse and now he desired nothing of him (the king) but that he would sett friends at libertie who were great sufferers or to that purpose and told the king he had a paper of 110 that were premunired yt had lain in prison about 6 years and none can release ym but him. Soe the king took the paper and said there was many of ym and yt they would be in again in a monthes time and yt the country gentlemen complained to him yt they were so troubled wth the quakers. So he said he would release him six. but ye friend thinkes to goe to him again, for he had not fully cleared himselfe.'

276 4to, vol. vii., p. 75.

This letter is endorsed by Fox himself, 'E Hookes to M F of passages consering Richard Carver, that cared the King of his backe.'

E. Hooke's next letter, addressed to George Fox, thus continues the narrative—

`February, 1669-70.

`Dear G. F. As for the friend that was with the King, his love is to thee. He has been with the King lately, and Thomas Moore was with him, and the King was very loving to them. He had a fair and free opportunity to open his mind to the King, and the King has promised to do for him, but willed him to wait a month or two longer. I rest thy faithful friend to serve thee, `E.H.'277

277 I am greatly indebted to J. P. Brown, Esq., James Street, Islington, for directing my attention to these letters.

The captain of the fisher-boat was Nicholas Tattersall, whose grave, covered with a slab of black marble, is still to be seen in Brighton church-yard, with a long poetical inscription, now scarcely legible. On the Restoration, he applied for his reward, and was made a commander in the royal navy, with an annuity to him and his heirs for ever of £100. The family have recently become extinct. His fisher boat was moored for a considerable time in the Thames, opposite Whitehall. Years had rolled on, but the Quaker mate who had so materially assisted the flying prince—by keeping the secret—arranging the escape with the crew, and when, in fear of danger from a privateer, rowing the prince ashore, and in shoal water carrying him on his shoulders to the land, near the village of Fecamp, in Normandy, yet he had not been with the king to claim any reward. This escape took place in 1651, and nearly twenty years had elapsed, ten of which were after the Restoration; so that in all probability the king, who with all his faults was not ungrateful, was agreeably surprised with his appearance at the palace. Whatever alteration the rough life of a sailor had made on his appearance, the king at once recognized him. All the progress he had made as to worldly prosperity was from being mate of a fisher-boat, under Tattersall, to becoming mate of a West Indiaman, under Captain Grove. His Majesty, who had passed his time more with courtiers than with Quakers, was doubtless astonished that a poor man, having such a claim on his bounty, should have been so many years without seeking his recompense. On asking the reason, the Quaker nobly answered to this effect, That the performance of his duty in saving the life of the hunted prince, was only a moral obligation, for the discharge of which God had amply repaid him by peace and satisfaction in his mind and conscience. And now, Sire, I ask nothing for myself, but that your Majesty would do the same to my friends that I did for you—set the poor pious sufferers at liberty, that they may bless you, and that you may have that peace and satisfaction which always follows good and benevolent actions. The king attempted feebly to argue, that they would soon offend again, and that they were much complained of by the country gentlemen. How readily the sailor might have said to his sailor king, Alter the ship's articles, let all the crew fare alike as to their free choice in religion, and there will be no grumbling in your noble ship; every subject will do his duty. The king offered to release any six, and we may imagine the sailor's blunt answer, What, six poor Quakers for a king's ransom!! His Majesty was so pleased as to invite him to come again, when he introduced another member of the Society of Friends, Thomas Moore. At this period an amazing number of Friends, men and women, were in the jails throughout the kingdom, torn from their families, and suffering most severe privations, under which great numbers had perished. The application for the release of the survivors, thus happily commenced, was followed up with zeal and energy, and crowned with great success. This narrative solves all those difficulties which rendered that remarkable event extremely mysterious. The question naturally arises why so debauched and dissolute a king should prefer such tight-laced Christians to be the peculiar objects of his mercy. The reason is perfectly obvious, he owed his life to one of their members, who, however poor as to this world, possessed those riches of piety which prevented his taking any personal reward for an act of duty. Shade of the noble sailor, thy name, Richard Carver, is worthy of all honour! And the more so, because thy gallant bearing has been studiously concealed in all the histories of these important transactions. Had he been a mischief-making Jesuit, like Father Huddleston, his noble deed would have been trumpeted forth for the admiration of the world in all ages. His name was left to perish in oblivion, because he was of a despised sect. It is an honour to Christianity that a labouring man preferred the duty of saving the life of a human being, and that of an enemy, to gaining so easily heaps of glittering gold. And when all the resources of royalty were ready munificently to reward him, he, like Moses, preferred the rescue of his suffering friends to personal honours or emoluments—even to all the riches of England!

The efforts of Carver and Moore were followed by most earnest appeals for mercy by George Whitehead, who with Moore appeared before the king in council several times, until at length the royal word sanctioned this act of mercy. The Quakers were then appealed to by sufferers of other denominations, and advised them to obtain the permission of the king in council, that their names might be inserted in the deed; rendering them all the assistance that was in their power. Great difficulties were encountered in passing the cumbrous deed through the various offices, and then in pleading it in all parts of the country. The number of Quakers thus released from imprisonment was 471, being about the same number as those who had perished in the jails. The rest of the prisoners liberated by this deed were Baptists and Independents, and among the former was JOHN BUNYAN.

A very circumstantial narrative of these proceedings, copies of the minutes of the privy council, and other documents, will be found in the introduction to The Pilgrim's Progress.278 One of these official papers affords an interesting subject of study to an occasional conformist. It is the return of the sheriff of Bedfordshire, stating that ALL the sufferings of Bunyan—his privation of liberty, sacrifice of wife, children, and temporal comforts, with the fear of an ignominious death—were for refusing to attend his parish church and hear the Common Prayer service.

278 Vol. iii., pp. 21-29.

When it is considered that Bunyan was very severe in his remarks upon the Quakers, the event reflects no ordinary degree of honour upon the Society of Friends, at whose sole charge, and entirely by their own exertions, this great deed of benevolence was begun, carried on, and completed. It is difficult to ascertain the exact duration of this sad imprisonment, because we cannot discover any record of the day of his release. His imprisonment commenced November 13, 1660, and his pardon under the great seal is dated September 13, 1672. As the pardon included nearly 500 sufferers, it occupied some time to obtain official duplicates to be exhibited at the assizes and sessions for the various counties. A letter from E. Hooks to Mrs. Fox intimates that none were released on the 1st November 1672. Another letter shows that the Bedfordshire prisoners were discharged before January 10, 1673;279 confirming Bunyan's own account, published by him in the Grace Abounding, 1680, that his imprisonment lasted complete twelve years.280

279 Vol. iii., p. 27.

280 Vol. i., p. 47; No. 319.

During the latter period of his imprisonment, probably from the time of his receiving the royal license to preach, May 15, 1672, he enjoyed extraordinary liberty—visiting those who had been kind to his family, and preaching in the surrounding counties. An entry in the records of the city of Leicester proves that he was there, and claimed the liberty of preaching—'John Bunyan's license bears date the 15th of May 1672, to teach as a Congregational person, being of that persuasion, in the house of Josias Roughed, Bedford, or in any other place, room, or house, licensed by his Majestie's memorand. The said Bunyan shewed his license to Mr. Mayor, Mr. Overinge, Mr. Freeman, and Mr. Browne, being then present, the 6th day of October, 1672, that being about two months before his final release from jail.'281

281 Jukes' History of Bunyan's Church, p. 24.

His first object, upon recovering his liberty, appears to have been the proper arrangement of his worldly business, that he might provide for the wants of his family, a matter of little difficulty with their frugal habits. He, at the same time, entered with all his soul into his beloved work of preaching and writing, to set forth the glories of Immanuel. The testimony of one who was his 'true friend and long acquaintance,' is, that one of the first fruits of his liberation was to visit those who had assisted him and comforted his family during his incarceration, encouraging those who were in fear of a prison, and collecting means of assistance to those who still remained prisoners; traveling even to remote counties to effect these merciful objects.282

282 Continuation of Life to Grace Abounding.

While the premises occupied by Mr. Roughed were being converted into a capacious meeting-house, the pastor was indefatigable in visiting the sick, and preaching from house to house, settling churches in the villages, reconciling differences, and extending the sacred influences of the gospel, so that in a very short time he attained the appellation of Bishop Bunyan—a title much better merited by him than by the downy prelates who sent him to jail for preaching that which they ought to have preached.

He formed branch churches at Gamlingay, Hawnes, Cotton-end, and Kempston, in connection with that at Bedford. When he opened the new meeting-house, it was so thronged that many were constrained to stay without, though it was very spacious, every one striving to partake of his instructions. [Bunyan's Cottage at Bedford (See book for picture)] Here he lived, in much peace and quiet of mind, contenting himself with that little God had bestowed upon him, and sequestering himself from all secular employments to follow that of his call to the ministry.283 The word `sequestering' would lead us to conclude, that his business was continued by his family, under his care, but so as to allow him much time for his Christian duties, and his benevolent pursuits. His peaceful course was interrupted by a severe controversy with the Christian world upon the subject of communion at the Lord's Table, which had commenced while he was in prison. He would admit none but those who, by a godly conversation, brought forth fruits meet for repentance, nor dared he to refuse any who were admitted to spiritual communion with the Redeemer. Every sect which celebrated the Lord's Supper, fenced the table round with ritual observances, except the Baptist church at Bedford, which stood preeminent for non-sectarianism. A singular proof of this is, that the catechism called Instruction of the Ignorant, written and published by Bunyan, is admirably adapted for the use, not only of his own church, but of Christians of all denominations.

283 It is generally believed at Bedford, that, after Bunyan was imprisoned, his family removed from Elstow to Bedford, in order that they might have more frequent access to him; and that, on his release, he made his abode there. His humble dwelling was much like that of his father at Elstow, most unassuming; just such a cottage as a poor wounded sinner would feel at home in when visiting his pastor for advice. The late Rev. J. Geard, of Hitchin, in his Diary, says—'July 17, 1774. I preached, for the first time, at Bedford, to the successors of good Mr. Bunyan's congregation, and the next day called at the house where he used to live, and went into the room that tradition reported was his study. This house, though it had been the habitation of so truly great a man, was now let for about 40s. per annum.' Allowing for the difference in the value of money, Bunyan would have now paid 16s. a-year rent for his humble abode. It will be always matter of regret, that it was not purchased and preserved by the members of the `Old Meeting,' when it was offered them before its destruction; we procured, however, a drawing of it, which is here engraved. The cottage was in the parish of St. Cuthbert, in the street opposite the meeting-house, and here Bunyan lived, while he was pastor, from 1681 to 1688.

His spirit was greatly refreshed by finding that his precept and example had been blessed to his son Thomas. On the 6th of the 11th month, 1673, he passed the lions, and was welcomed into the house called Beautiful, uniting in full communion with his father's church. There doubtless was, as Mercy expresses it, 'music in the house, music in the heart, and music also in heaven, for joy that he was here.'284 He afterwards became a village preacher.

284 Pilgrim, vol. iii., p. 198.

Bunyan was by no means a latitudinarian. No one felt greater decision than he did for the truths of our holy faith. When his Lord's design in Christianity was, as he thought, perverted by a beneficed clergyman, then he sent forth from his prison an answer as from a son of thunder, even at the risk of his life. His love for the pure doctrines of the gospel was as decided as his aversion to sectarian titles. 'As for those factious titles of Anabaptists, Independents, Presbyterians, or the like, I conclude that they came neither from Jerusalem, nor from Antioch, but rather from hell and Babylon, for they naturally tend to divisions.'285 The only title that he loved was that of Christian. 'It is strange to see how men are wedded to their own opinions, beyond what the law of grace and love will admit. Here is a Presbyter—here an Independent and a Baptist, so joined each man to his own opinions, that they cannot have that communion one with another as by the testament of the Lord Jesus they are commanded and enjoined.'286 The meaning which he attached to the word 'sectarian' is very striking—Pharisees are sectarians, they who in Divine worship turn aside from the rule of the written Word, and in their manner do it to be seen of men—these are sectaries.287 Bunyan was most decided as to the importance of baptism and the Lord's Supper. 'Do you think that love letters are not desired between lovers? Why these, God's ordinances, they are his love letters, and his love tokens, too. No marvel, then, if the righteous do so desire them. "More to be desired are they than gold, yea, than much fine gold; sweeter also than honey, and the honey-comb." Christ made himself known to his disciples in breaking of bread; who would not, then, that loves to know him, be present at such an ordinance? Ofttimes the Holy Ghost, in the comfortable influence of it, has accompanied the baptized in the very act of administering of it.' His views of the fellowship of the saints were equally explicit—'Church fellowship, rightly managed, is the glory of all the world. No place, no community, no fellowship, is adorned and bespangled with those beauties, as is a church rightly knit together to their Head, and lovingly serving one another.'288 Such he admitted to the table of their common Lord; but, in his esteem, to communicate with the profane was all one with sacrificing to the devil.  

285 Vol. ii., p. 649

286 Vol. ii., p. 538.

287 Vol. ii., p. 219.

288 Vol. i., p. 757.

All this liberality was accompanied by very strict notions of church fellowship, not allowing private judgment in the withdrawing of any member, if the church withheld its approbation. Mary Tilney had been cruelly robbed by the persecuting Justice Porter, for not attending the parish church. He carted away all her goods, beds, and bedding, even to the hangings of her rooms. She was a most benevolent widow, and was more troubled with the crying and sighing of her poor neighbours, than with the loss of her goods. Harassed by persecution at Bedford, she removed to London, and requested her dismission to a church of which her son-in-law was pastor, which was refused. As the letter announcing this to her is a good example of Bunyan's epistolary correspondence, it is carefully extracted from the church book.

Our dearly-beloved sister Tilney.

Grace, mercy, and peace be with you, by Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

I received your letter, and have presented it to the sight of the brethren, who, after due consideration of your motion, have jointly concluded to give you this answer. This for yourself (honoured sister), you are of high esteem with the church of God in this place, both because his grace hath been bestowed richly upon you, and because of your faithful fellowship with us; for you have been rightly a daughter of Abraham while here, not being afraid with any amazement. Your holy and quiet behaviour, also, while with patience and meekness, and in the gentleness of Christ, you suffered yourself to be robbed for his sake, hath the more united our affections to you in the bowels of Jesus Christ. Yea, it hath begotten you reverence, also, in the hearts of them who were beholders of your meekness and innocency while you suffered; and a stinging conviction, as we are persuaded, in the consciences of those who made spoil for themselves; all which will redound to the praise of God our Father, and to your comfort and everlasting consolation by Christ, in the day he shall come to take vengeance for his people, and to be glorified in them that believe. Wherefore we cannot (our honoured sister) but care for your welfare, and increase of all good in the faith and kingdom of Christ, whose servant you are, and whose name is written in your forehead; and do therefore pray God and our Father, that he would direct your way, and open a door in his temple for you, that you may eat his fat and be refreshed, and that you may drink the pure blood of the grape. And be you assured that, with all readiness, we will help and forward you what we can therein, for we are not ashamed to own you before all the churches of Christ.

But, our dearly beloved, you know that, for our safety and your profit, it is behoofful that we commit you to such, to be fed and governed in the Word and doctrines as, we are sufficiently persuaded, shall be able to deliver you up with joy at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ with all his saints: otherwise we (that we say not you) shall receive blushing and shame before him and you; yea, and you also, our honoured sister, may justly charge us with want of love, and a due respect for your eternal condition, if, for want of care and circumspection herein, we should commit you to any from whom you should receive damage, or by whom you should not be succoured and fed with the sincere milk of the incorruptible Word of God, which is able to save your soul. Wherefore we may not, neither dare give our consent that you feed and fold with such whose principles and practices, in matters of faith and worship, we, as yet, are strangers to, and have not received commendations concerning, either from works of theirs or epistles from others. Yourself, indeed, hath declared that you are satisfied therein; but, elect sister, seeing the act of delivering you up is an act of ours and not yours, it is convenient, yea, very expedient, that we, as to so weighty a matter, be well persuaded before. Wherefore we beseech you, that, for the love of our Lord Jesus Christ, you give us leave to inform ourselves yet better before we grant your request; and that you also forbear to sit down at the table with any without the consent of your brethren. You were, while with us, obedient, and we trust you will not be unruly now. And for the more quick expedition of this matter, we will propound before you our further thoughts. 1. Either we shall consent to your sitting down with brother Cockain, brother Griffith, brother Palmer, or other, who, of long continuance in the city, have showed forth their faith, their worship, and good conversation with the Word; 2. Or if you can get a commendatory epistle from brother Owen, brother Cockain, brother Palmer, or brother Griffith, concerning the faith and principles of the person and people you mention, with desire to be guided and governed by, you shall see our readiness, in the fear of God, to commit you to the doctrine and care of that congregation. Choose you whether of these you will consent unto, and let us hear of your resolution. And we beseech you, for love's sake, you show, with meekness, your fear and reverence of Christ's institution; your love to the congregation, and regard to your future good. Finally, we commit you to the Lord and the Word of his grace, who is able to build you up, and to give you an inheritance among them that are sanctified. To God, the only wise, be glory and power everlasting. Amen.—Your affectionate brethren, to serve you in the faith and fellowship of the gospel.

JOHN BUNYAN (see book for his signature)
Sent from Bedford, the 19th of the Fourth Month, 1671.

As a farther illustration of Bunyan's sentiments on this subject, we give the following letter to the church at Braintree:—

The 7th of the Twelfth Month, 1676 (Feb. 1677). The church of Christ in and about Bedford, to the church of Christ in and about Braintree,

sendeth greeting,

Holy and beloved—We, fellow-heirs with you of the grace of life, having considered your request concerning our honoured and beloved brother, Samuel Hensman: that he shall be given up to you for your mutual edification, and his furtherance and joy of faith; and considering also, in the capacity he now standeth by reason of his habitation amongst you, his edification is to be from you, not from us—he being, by God's providence (by which he disposeth the world), placed at such a distance from us. And considering, also, the great end of Christ our Lord, in ordaining the communion of saints, is his glory in their edification, and that all things are to be done by his command to the edification of the body in general, and of every member in particular, and that this we oft (ought?) to design in our receiving him, and giving up to other churches, and not to please ourselves: do as before God and the elect angels, grant and give up to you our elect brother, to be received by you in the Lord, and to be nourished, in the church at Braintree, with you as one that is dear to the Father and our Lord Jesus Christ; and this we the willinger do, because, as we are informed concerning you, beloved, you are not rigid in your principles, but are for communion with saints as saints, and have been taught by the Word to receive the brotherhood, because they are beloved, and received of the Father and the Son, to whose grace we commend you, with the brother of late a member with us, but now one of you. Grace be with you all. Written by the appointment of the church here, and subscribed, in her name, by your brethren, as followeth:—

JOHN BUNYAN (see book for his signature) 


The late Mr. Kilpin of Bedford considered the whole of this letter to be entered in the minutes in Bunyan's hand-writing.

There is also in the church book the copy of a letter, in 1674, addressed to the 'church sometime walking with our brother Jesse,' refusing to dismiss to them Martha Cumberland, unless they were certified that they continued in the practice of mixed communion. In these sentiments Bunyan lived and died. His church remains the same to the present day. In the new, commodious, and handsome meeting-house, opened in 1850, there is a baptistery, frequently used. The present minister, the amiable and talented John Jukes, baptizes infants, and receives the assistance of a neighbouring Baptist minister to baptize adults.

Not only had Bunyan clear, well-defined, and most decided views of the ordinances of the gospel, but also of all its doctrines. His knowledge upon those solemn subjects was drawn exclusively from the sacred pages; nor dared he swerve in the slightest degree from the path of duty; still he belonged to no sect, but that of Christian, and the same freedom which had guided him in forming his principles, he cheerfully allowed to others. Hitherto, water baptism had been considered a pre-requisite to the Lord's table by all parties. The Episcopalians, Presbyterians, and Independents, had denounced the Baptists as guilty of a most serious heresy, or blasphemy, in denying the right of infants to baptism; not only did they exclude the Baptists from communion with their churches, but they persecuted them with extreme rigour. When the Independents made laws for the government of their colony in America, in 1644, one of the enactments was, `That if any person shall either openly condemn, or oppose the baptizing of infants, or seduce others, or leave the congregation during the administration of the rite, they shall be sentenced to banishment.' The same year a poor man was tied up and whipped, for refusing to have his child baptized. 'The Rev. J. Clarke, and Mr. 0. Holmes, of Rhode Island, for visiting a sick Baptist brother in Massachusetts, instead of being admitted to the Lord's table, they were arrested, fined, imprisoned, and whipped.' At this very time, the Baptists formed their colony at Rhode Island, and the charter concludes with these words, 'All men may walk as their consciences persuade them, every one in the name of his God.' This is probably the only spot in the world where persecution was never known. The Baptists considered that immersion in water was the marriage rite between the believer and Saviour; that to sit at the Lord's table without it was spiritual adultery, to be abhorred and avoided, and therefore refused to admit any person to the Lord's table who had not been baptized in water upon a personal profession of faith in the Saviour. This was the state of parties when Bunyan, at the commencement of his pastorate, entered into the controversy. He had been promised a commendation to his book by the great, the grave, 'the sober' Dr. Owen, but he withdrew his sanction. 'And perhaps it was more for the glory of God, that truth should go naked into the world,' said Bunyan, 'than as seconded by so weighty an armour-bearer as he.'289 Bunyan denied that water could form a wedding garment, or that water baptism was a prerequisite for the Lord's table, or that being immersed in water was putting on our Lord's livery, by which disciples may be known. `Away, fond man, do you forget the text, "By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another."290 And attempt was made to embroil Bunyan in a public disputation in London upon this subject, which he very wisely avoided.291 This controversy will be found in our second volume, and is deeply interesting, making allowance for the esprit de corps manifested on all sides. A verse in the emblems is very pertinent upon the violence of this dispute:—

Our gospel has had here a summer's day,
But in its sunshine we, like fools, did play;
Or else fall out, and with each other wrangle,
And did, instead of work, not much but jangle.292

289 Vol. ii., 649.

290 Vol. ii., p. 638.

291 Vol. ii., p. 641.

292 Vol. iii., p. 758.

After a lapse of nearly two centuries, Bunyan's peaceable principles have greatly prevailed; so that now few churches refuse communion on account of the mode, in which water baptism has been administered. The Baptists are no longer deemed heretics as they formerly were. Dr. Watts aided this kindly feeling—'A church baptized in infancy, or in adult age, may allow communion to those that are of the contrary practice in baptism.'293 Robert Robinson praises Bunyan's work, and advocates his sentiments upon the most liberal principles. One of his remarks is very striking:—'Happy community! that can produce a dispute of one hundred and fifty years unstained with the blood, and unsullied with the fines, the imprisonments, and the civil inconveniences of the disputants. As to a few coarse names, rough compliments, foreign suppositions, and acrimonious exclamations, they are only the harmless squeakings of men in a passion, caught and pinched in a sort of logical trap.'294 To this time, Bunyan was only known as an extraordinarily talented and eloquent man, whose retentive memory was most richly stored with the sacred Scriptures. All his sermons and writings were drawn from his own mental resources, aided, while in prison, only by the Bible, the Concordance, and Fox's Book of Martyrs. Very emphatically he says, 'I am for drinking water out of my own cistern.' I find such a spirit of idolatry in the learning of this world, that had I it at command I durst not use it, but only use the light of the Word and Spirit of God.' I will not take of it from a thread even to a shoe latchet.'295 It must not be understood that he read no other works but his Bible and Book of Martyrs, but that he only used those in composing his various treatises while in confinement. He certainly had and read The Plain Man's Pathway, Practice of Piety, Luther on the Galatians, Clarke's Looking-glass for Saints and Sinners, Dodd on the Commandments, Andrews' Sermons, Fowler's Design of Christianity, D'Anvers and Paul on Baptism, and doubtless all the books which were within his reach, calculated to increase his store of knowledge.

293 Christian Church, 8vo, 1747, p. 280.

294 The General Doctrine of Toleration, applied to Free Communion, p. 8. George Whitefield most warmly approved the communion of all God's saints with each other. This, I must own, more particularly endears Mr. Bunyan to my heart. He was of a catholic spirit. The want of water (adult baptism), with this man of God, was no bar to outward Christian communion. And I am persuaded that if, like him, we were more deeply and experimentally baptized into the benign and gracious influences of the blessed Spirit, we should be less baptized into the waters of strife about circumstantials and non-essentials. For being thereby rooted and grounded in the love of God, we should necessarily be constrained to think and let think, bear with and forbear one another in love, and without saying, I am of Paul, Apollos, or Cephas; have but one grand, laudable, disinterested strife, namely, who should live, preach, and exalt the ever-loving, altogether-lovely Jesus most.

295 Vol. iii., p. 398.

About this time he published a small quarto tract, in which he scripturally treats the doctrine of eternal election and reprobation. This rare book, published for sixpence, we were glad to purchase at a cost of one guinea and a half, because a modern author rejected its authenticity! It is included in every early list of Bunyan's works, and especially in that published by himself, in 1688, to guard his friends from deception; for he had become so popular an author that several forgeries had been published under his initials. These few pages on election contain a scriptural treatise upon a very solemn subject, written by one whose mind was so imbued by the fear of God, as to have cast out the fear of man; which so generally embarrasses writers upon this subject. It was translated into Welsh, and is worthy an attentive perusal, especially by those who cannot see the difference between God's foreknowledge and his foreordination.

A new era was now dawning upon him, which, during the last ten years of his life, added tenfold to his popularity. For many years his beautifully simple, but splendid allegory, The Pilgrim's Progress, lay slumbering in his drawer.296 Numerous had been his consultations with his pious associates and friends, and various had been their opinions, whether it was serious enough to be published. All of them had a solemn sense of the impropriety of anything like trifling as to the way of escape from destruction, and the road to the celestial city. It appears strange to us, who have witnessed the very solemn impressions, in all cases, made by reading that book, that there could have been a doubt of the propriety of treating in a colloquial manner, and even under the fashion of a dream, those most important truths. Some said, 'John, print it'; others said, 'not so.' Some said, 'it might do good'; others said, 'no.' The result of all those consultations was his determination, 'I print it will,' and it has raised

296 He hesitated as to the propriety of publishing it, probably from the influence of the weighty opinion of Martin Luther. The people are greatly delighted with allegories and similitudes, and therefore Christ oftentimes useth them; for they are, as it were, certain pictures which set forth things as if they were painted before our eyes. Paul was a marvelous cunning workman in handling allegories, but Origen and Jerome turn plain Scriptures into unfit and foolish allegories. Therefore, to use allegories, it is oftentimes a very dangerous thing' [Corn. on Gal. 4:21]. Such instructions, from one he so much venerated, curbed his exuberant imagination, and made him doubly watchful, lest allegorizing upon subjects of such vast importance might `darken counsel by words without knowledge.'

an imperishable monument to his memory. Up to this time, all Bunyan's popularity arose from his earlier works, and his sermons. Leaving out of the question those most extraordinary books, The Pilgrim's Progress and Holy War, his other writings ought to have handed down his name, with honour and popularity, to the latest posterity. While the logical and ponderous works of Baxter and Owen are well calculated to furnish instruction to those who are determined to obtain knowledge, the works of Bunyan create that very determination, and furnish that very knowledge, so blended with amusement, as to fix it in the memory. Let one illustration suffice. It is our duty to love our enemies, but it is a hard lesson; we must learn it from the conduct of the Divine Creator—'There is a man hates God, blasphemes his name, despises his being; yea, says there is no God. And yet the God that he carrieth it thus towards doth give me his breakfast, dinner, and supper; clothes him well, and, when night comes, has him to bed, gives him good rest, blesses his field, his corn, his cattle, his children, and raises him to high estate; yea, and this our God doth not only once or twice, but until these transgressors become old; his patience is thus extended years after years, that we might learn of him to do well.'297 All the works of Bunyan abound with such striking lessons, as to render them extremely valuable, especially to Sunday-school teachers and ministers, to enliven their addresses and sermons. But, in The Pilgrim's Progress, the world has acknowledged one train of beauties; picture after picture, most beautifully finished, exhibiting the road from destruction to the celestial city; our only difficulty in such a display being to decide as to which is the most interesting and striking piece of scenery.298 The editor's introduction to that extraordinary book is intended to prove that it was written while the author was imprisoned for refusing to submit his conscience to human laws, and that it is a perpetual monument to the folly of persecution; the peculiar qualifications of the author are displayed in its having been a spontaneous effusion of his own mind, unaided by any previous writer; an analysis is given of all prior pilgrimages, in which, more especially in The Pilgrims, The Pylgremage of the Soule, Grande Amoure, and in The Pilgrim of Loretto, the reader will find a faithful picture of some of the singularities of Popery drawn by itself; an account of the editions, forgeries, errors in printing, versions and translations of this wonderful book; the opinions of the learned and pious of its merits, principal scenes, and a synopsis. It has been the source of very numerous courses of lectures by ministers of all denominations; and has been turned into a handsome volume of hymns, adapted for public worship, by the late Mr. Purday, a friend of John Wesley's, and a laborious preacher for more than half a century.

297 Vol. iii., p. 739.

298 Even Dean Swift, in his popular Letter to a Young Divine, says, 'I have been better entertained, and more informed by a few pages in the Pilgrim's Progress, than by a long discourse upon the will and the intellect, and simple and complex ideas.' Nothing short of extraordinary merit could have called for such a eulogy from so severe a critic.

Great efforts have been made by the most popular artists to enliven the scenes of the pilgrimage; but no colour glows like the enchanting words of Bunyan. No figures are so true to nature, and so life-like. Those eminent engravers, Sturt and Strut, Stothard and Martin, with the prize efforts excited by the Art Union of England, and the curious outlines by Mrs. M'Kenzie, the daughter of a British admiral, have endeavoured to exhaust the scenes in this inexhaustible work of beautiful scenery. The most elegant and correct edition is the large-paper, sumptuous volume by Mr. Bogue, admirably illustrated with new designs, engraved on wood in superior style—a volume worthy the drawing-room of queens and emperors. The designs, also, of the late David Scott, recently published at Edinburgh, are new, and peculiarly striking. His entrance to the Valley of the Shadow of Death is mysteriously impressive, a fit accompaniment to Bunyan's description, which is not excelled by any thing in Dante, Spencer, or Milton. In both parts of The Pilgrim's Progress this scene is full of terrific sublimity. But we must be excused, if we most warmly recommend our own offspring—the present edition—as combining accuracy, elegance, and cheapness, with the addition of very numerous notes, which, we trust, will prove highly illustrative and entertaining.

The carping criticisms of Mr. Dunlop, in his History of Fiction, and of an author in the Penny Encyclopedia, are scarcely worth notice. The complaint is, want of benevolence in the hero of the tale. How singular it is, and what a testimony to its excellence, that an intelligent writer upon fictions should have been so overpowered with this spiritual narrative, as to confound it with temporal things. Christian leaves his wife and children, instead of staying with them, to be involved in destruction—all this relates to inward spiritual feelings, and to these only. Visited by compunctions of heart, Christian strives to inspire his wife and children with the same, but in vain; he attends solitarily to his spiritual state, taunted by his family, while, as to temporal things, he becomes a better husband and father than ever he was—but this is not prominent, because it is entirely foreign to the author's object, which is to display the inward emotions of the new birth, the spiritual journey alone, apart from all temporal affairs. Multitudes read it as if it was really a dream, the old sleeping portrait confirming the idea. In the story, Christian most mysteriously embodies all classes of men, from the prince to the peasant—the wealthiest noble, or merchant, to the humbles mechanic or labourer—and it illustrates the most solemn, certain truth, that, with respect to the salvation of the soul, the poorest creature in existence is upon perfect equality with the lordly prelate, or magnificent emperor, with this word ringing in their ears, 'the POOR have the gospel preached to them.' The Grace Abounding, or Life of Bunyan, is a key to all the mysteries of The Pilgrim's Progress, and Holy War.

Bunyan's singular powers are those of description, not of invention. He had lived in the city of destruction—he had heard the distant threatening of the awful storm that was shortly to swallow it up in unutterable ruin—he had felt the load of sin, and rejoiced when it was rolled away before a crucified Saviour—he knew every step of the way, and before he had himself passed the black river, he had watched prayerfully over those who were passing, and when the gate of the city was opened to let them enter, he had strained his eyes to see their glory.

The purifying influence of The Pilgrim's Progress may be traced in the writings of many imaginative authors. How does it in several parts beautify the admirable tale of Uncle Tom, and his Cabin. In that inimitable scene, the death of the lovely Eva, the distressed negro, watching with intense anxiety the progress of death, says, 'When that blessed child goes into the kingdom, they'll open the door so wide, we'll all get a look in at the glory.' Whence came this strange idea—not limited to the poor negro, but felt by thousands who have watched over departing saints? It comes from the entrance of Christian and Hopeful into the celestial city—'I looked in after them, and, behold, the city shone like the sun; the streets, also, were paved with gold, and in them they walked with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises, which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them.'299 How often has Bunyan's wit sparkled in sermons, and even in speeches delivered in the senate. Recently, in a speech on the collation ministry, the following reference was introduced:—'Mr. Facing-both-ways, of honest John Bunyan, is not a creature mankind can regard with any complacency; nor will they likely suffer any one to act with one party, and reserve his principles for another.' It has also been strangely quoted in novel writing—thus in Bell's Villette—visiting a God-mother in a pleasant retreat, is said 'to resemble the sojourn of Christian and Hopeful, beside the pleasant stream, with green trees on each bank, and meadows beautified with lilies all the year round.' It is marvelous that a picture of nature should have been so beautifully and strikingly described by an unlettered artisan, as to be used in embellishing an elegant novel, written nearly two centuries after his decease.300

299 Vol. iii., p. 166.

300 Within the Editor's memory, polished writers hesitated to name our incomparable allegorist, on account of his humble name and education. Thus Cowper sang—

I name thee not, lest so despised a name
Should move a sneer at thy deserved fame.

Now nearly all men find it difficult to do that name sufficient honour. One of the most splendid steamships in America is called after his name. A magnificent ship, for the China trade, was built at Aberdeen by Walter Hood & Co., which so swiftly traversed the ocean as to have made the voyage from Canton to London in ninety-nine days, without any aid from steam. This beautiful and grand specimen of the perfection of naval architecture is named The John Bunyan. Roman Catholics have printed large editions of the Pilgrim, with slight omissions, for circulation among the young under the care of the nuns. Our English fanatics have committed a crime that would make a papist blush. A Rev. E. Neale has clumsily altered the Pilgrim's Progress, that Bunyan might appear to teach the things which Bunyan's righteous heaven-born soul abhorred. It is a piece of matchless self-conceit to think of mending that which has been admired by the wisest of the human race in all nations, and which has obtained an unbounded popularity. Such an attempt to alter it is an acknowledgment that all the boasted power of Oxford, Exeter, and Rome, are unable to invent a tale to supersede the matchless beauties of the work of our spiritually-minded, heavenly-assisted brazier. If Mr. Neale should, at any time, alter a deed and the punishment for that felony is transportation for life. A similar forgery was committed in a recent London edition of Dr. Cheever's Hill Difficulty. The Tractarians, doubtless, commit these scandalous outrages upon the Fathers, and all other writers, and deserve the contempt of every honest, upright mind.

The Pilgrim was followed by a searching treatise on The Fear of God. The value of this book led to its republication by the Tract Society, and 4000 copies have been circulated. It is a neat and acceptable volume, but why altered? and a psalm omitted.301 Bunyan says, `Your great ranting, swaggering, roysters'; this is modernized into 'Your ranting boasters.'302 Then followed, the Come and Welcome to Jesus Christ. This was frequently reprinted, and hundreds of thousands have been circulated to benefit the world. His popularity increased with his years; efforts were made, but in vain, to steal him from his beloved charge at Bedford. `He hath refused a more plentiful income to keep his station,' is the language of his surviving friend, Charles Doe. It is not surprising that he was thus tempted to leave his poor country church, for we are told by the same biographer, that 'When Mr. Bunyan preached in London, if there were but one day's notice given, there would be more people come together to hear him preach, than the meetinghouse could hold. I have seen to hear him preach, by my computation, about 1200 at a morning lecture, by seven o'clock, on a working day, in the dark winter time. I also computed about 3000 that came to hear him one Lord's-day, at London, at a town's end meeting-house, so that half were fain to go back again for want of room, and then himself was fain at a back door to be pulled almost over people to get up stairs to his pulpit.' This took place in a large meeting-house, erected in Zoar Street, either on the site or near the Globe Theatre, Southwark.303 On this spot, the prince of dramatists amused and corrupted crowded houses; while in the immediate vicinity were the stews and bear garden, frequented by libertines of the lowest caste. One Sunday, in 1582, many were killed or miserably wounded while attending the brutal sport of bear-baiting. Here, in the heart of Satan's empire, the prince of allegorists attracted multitudes, to be enlightened by his natural eloquence, and to be benefited by the fruits of his prolific and vivid imagination, at all times curbed and directed by the holy oracles. It was a spacious building, covering about 2000 feet of ground (50 by 40), with three galleries, quite capable of holding the number computed by Mr. Doe. We have, from correct drawings, furnished our subscribers with the plan and elevation of this ancient meeting-house. Having preached with peculiar warmth and enlargement, one of his friends took him by the hand, and could not help observing what a sweet sermon he had delivered; 'Ay,' said he, 'you need not remind me of that, for the devil told me of it before I was out of the pulpit!'304 Amongst his hearers were to be found the learned and the illiterate. It was well known that Dr. John Owen, when he had the opportunity, embraced it with pleasure, and sat at the feet of the unlearned, but eloquent tinker. Charles II, hearing of it, asked the learned D.D., 'How a man of his great erudition could sit to hear a tinker preach?' to which the doctor replied, 'May it please your Majesty, if I could possess the tinker's abilities, I would gladly give in exchange all my learning.'

301 Vol. i., p. 473.

302 Vol. i., p. 480.

303 Two views of this meeting-house, an exterior and interior, after its conversion into a workshop, are given in the Plate facing page i. of this Memoir. In the interior, part of the beams and pillars that supported the gallery still remain.

304 Toplady's Works, vol. iv., p. 463.

He now pictured the downward road of the sinner to the realms of death and darkness in the Life of Badman. This was published in 1680, and is written in a language which fraudulent tradesmen at that period could not misunderstand; using terms now obsolete or vulgar. It is full of anecdotes, which reveal the state of the times, as superlatively immoral, and profane. He incidentally notices that a labourer received eightpence or tenpence per day.305 At that time, bread and all the necessaries of life, excepting meat, were dearer than they are at present. In fact, our days are much happier for the poor than any preceding ones in British history. Bunyan's notions of conscientious dealing, will make all traders who read them—blush.306

305 Vol. iii., p. 637.

306 One of his anecdotes is remarkable, as exhibiting the state of medical knowledge in his neighbourhood. A poor wretch, who had taught his son to blaspheme, was affected with a nervous twisting of the muscles of his chest. This was supposed to arise from a Satanic possession. One Freeman, a more than ordinary doctor, attempted the cure. They bound the patient to a form, with his head hanging down over the end; set a pan of coals under his mouth, and put something therein that made a great smoke, to fetch out the devil. There they kept the man till he was almost smothered, but no devil came out of him [Vol. iii., p. 605]. The death-bed scene of the broken-hearted Mrs. Badman, is delicately and beautifully drawn.

November 12, 1681, Bunyan's friend and fellow-labourer Samuel Fenn, was removed from this world, and in the following year persecution raged severely. The church was, for a season, driven from the meeting-house, and obliged to assemble in the fields. The Word of the Lord was precious in those days.

In 1682, while surrounded by persecution, he prepared and published his most profound and beautiful allegory, The Holy War, made by Shaddai upon Diabolus, for the Regaining of the Metropolis of the World; or, The Losing and Taking again the Town of Mansoul.307 The frontispiece is the most accurate likeness of Bunyan that is extant; it is engraved by White, from a drawing, also by him, now preserved in the print department of the British Museum. From this drawing, carefully compared with the print, we have furnished the expressive likeness which forms the frontispiece to this volume. It has also a correct whole-length portrait, with emblematical devices. This exceedingly beautiful and most finished allegory has never been so popular as The Pilgrim's Progress, for reasons which are shown in the introduction to The Holy War.308 The whole narrative of this wondrous war appears to flow as naturally as did that of the pilgrimage from the highly imaginative mind of the author. Man, in his innocence, attracts the notice and hatred of Apollyon. Nothing could be accomplished by force—all by subtlety and deceit. He holds a council of war—selects his officers—approaches—parleys, and gains admittance—then fortifies the town against its king—Immanuel determines to recover it—vast armies, under appropriate leaders, surround the town, and attack every gate. The ear is garrisoned by Captain Prejudice and his deaf men. But he who rides forth conquering and to conquer is victorious. All the pomp, and parade, and horrors of a siege are as accurately told, as if by one who had been at the sacking of many towns. The author had learnt much in a little time, at the siege of Leicester. All the sad elements of war appear, and make us shudder—masses of armed men with their slings and battering-rams—clarions and shouts—wounded and slain, all appear as in a panorama. The mind becomes entranced, and when sober reflection regains her command, we naturally inquire, Can all this have taken place in my heart? Then the armies of Diabolus, with his thousands of Election Doubters, and as many Vocation Doubters, and his troops of Blood-men—thousands slain, and yet thousands start into existence. And all this in one man! How numberless are our thoughts—how crafty the approaches of the enemy—how hopeless and helpless is the sinner, unless Immanuel undertakes his recovery. The Holy War is a most surprising narrative of the fall and of the recovery of man's soul, as accurate as it is most deeply interesting. It is one of the most perfect of allegories.309 There is as vast a superiority in Bunyan's Holy War over that by Chrysostom, as there is in the sun over a rush-light.

307 Sutcliff's History of Bunyan's Church.

308 Vol. iii., p. 245.

309 A beautiful satire is contained in the account of the traitors—tradition, human wisdom, and man's invention. This picture is drawn by an inimitable artist. Nor have we seen anything more admirably adapted to the present state of our Tractarian times. Vol. iii. 277.  

In 1684, he completed his Pilgrim's Progress, with the Journey of a Female Christian, her Children, and the Lovely Mercy; and now, as his invaluable and active life drew towards its close, his labours were redoubled. In his younger days, there appeared to have been no presentiment on his part that the longest term of human life would with him be shortened, but rather an expectation of living to old age, judging from an expression in his Grace Abounding. when he enjoyed a good hope, and bright anticipation of heavenly felicity, 'I should often long and desire that the last days were come. 0! thought I, that I were fourscore years old now, that I might die quickly and be gone to rest.'310 At that time he did not anticipate twelve years' imprisonment in a wretched jail, nor the consequent effects it must have upon his robust frame, well calculated to stand all weathers, but easily sapped and undermined by a damp dungeon. Symptoms of decay, after having enjoyed his liberty for about a year, led him to close his Affectionate Advice to his Beloved Flock, on their Christian Behaviour; with these words, 'Thus have I written to you,

310 Vol. i., p. 22, No. 128.

before I die, to provoke you to faith and holiness, and to love one another, when I am deceased, and shall be in paradise, as through grace I comfortably believe; yet it is not there, but here, I must do you good.'311 It is remarkable that Bunyan escaped all the dangers of the trying reign of James II, who, at times, was a persecutor, and at times endeavoured, in vain, by blandishments, to win the Nonconformists. his minions had their eyes upon our pilgrim, but were foiled in every attempt to apprehend him; all that he suffered was the occasional spoiling of his goods.312 Neither violence nor allurements induced him to deviate from his line of duty. No fear of man appeared to agitate his breast—he richly enjoyed that 'perfect love,' which `casteth out fear' (1Jo 4:18). James did all that an unprincipled man could do to cajole the Dissenters, that by their aid he might pull down the walls of Protestantism, and give full sway to the Papacy. He attempted, among many others, to bribe John Bunyan. He knew not how well he was read in the Book of Martyrs; how well he was aware that 'the instruments of cruelty are in their habitations,' and that the only advantage he could have received, would have been the same that Polypheme, the monstrous giant of Sicily, allowed to Ulysses, that he would eat his men first, and do him the favour of being eaten last. Mr. Doe states that `Regulators were sent into all cities and towns corporate to new-model the magistracy, by turning out some, and putting in others. Against this Bunyan expressed his zeal with great anxiety, as foreseeing the bad consequences that would attend it, and laboured with his congregation to prevent their being imposed on in this kind. And when a great man in those days, coming to Bedford upon some such errand, sent for him, as it is supposed, to give him a place of public trust, he would by no means come at him, but sent his excuse.'313 He knew that in his flesh he

311 Vol. ii., p. 574.

312 Life, 1692.

313 Grace Abounding (continued), vol. i., p. 63, and Life, 1692.

possessed what he calls 'Adam's legacy, a conduit pipe, through which the devil conveys his poisoned spawn and venom,'314 and he wisely avoided this subtle temptation. He detested the 'painted Satan, or devil in fine clothes.'315 It was one of these hypocritical pretences to correct evil, while really meaning to increase it, and which Bunyan calls, 'the devil correcting vice.' He was watchful, lest 'his inward man should catch cold,'316 and every attempt to entangle him failed.

314 Vol. i., p. 505.

315 VOL i., p. 719.

316 Vol. i., p. 753.

This godly jealousy led him to sacrifice worldly interests to an extent not justifiable, if all the facts appear. When told that a very worthy citizen of London would take his son Joseph apprentice without fee, and advance his interests, he refused, saying, 'God did not send me to advance my family, but to preach the gospel.'

At this time he again manifested his lion heart, by writing and preparing for the press a fearless treatise on Antichrist, and his Ruin. In this he shows, that human interference with Divine worship, by penal laws or constraint, is `Antichrist'—that which pretends to regulate thought, and thus to reduce the kingdom of Christ to a level with the governments of this world. In this treatise, he clearly exhibits the meaning of that passage, so constantly quoted by the advocates of tyranny and persecution (Ezr 7:26), and shows that the laws interfered not with Divine worship, but that they upheld to the fullest extent the principle of voluntary obedience (v 13); so that any man putting constraint upon another in religious affairs, would be guilty of breaking the law, and subject him to extreme punishment. This was one of the last treatises which Bunyan prepared for the press, as if in his dying moments he would aim a deadly thrust at Apollyon. Reader, it is worthy your most careful perusal, as showing the certain downfall of Antichrist, and the means by which it must be accomplished.

Feeling the extreme uncertainty of life, and that he might be robbed of all his worldly goods, under a pretence of fines and penalties, he, on the 23d of December, 1685, executed a deed of gift, vesting what little he possessed in his wife. It is a singular instrument, especially as having been sealed with a silver twopenny piece. The original is in the church book, at Bedford:—

To all people to whom this present writing shall com, J. Bunyan of the parish of St. Cuthbirt's, in the towne of Bedford, in the county of Bedford, Brazier send greeting. Know ye, that I the said John Bunyan as well for, and in consideration of the natural affection and loue which I have, and bear vnto my welbeloued wife, Elizabeth Bunyan, as also for divers other good causes and considerations, me at this present especially moneing, have given and granted, and by these presents, do give, grant, and conferm vnto the said Elizabeth Bunyan, my said wife, all and singuler my goods, chattels, debts, ready mony, plate, rings, household stuffe, aparrel, vtensills, brass, peuter, beding, and all other my substance, whatsoever moueable and immoueable, of what kinde, nature, quality, or condition soever the same are or be, and in what place or places soever the same be, shall or may be found as well in mine own custodies, possession, as in the possession, hands, power, and custody of any other person, or persons whatsoever. To have and to hold all and singuler the said goods, chattels, debts, and all other, the aforesaid premises vnto the said Elizabeth, my wife, her executors, administerators, and assigns to her and their proper vses and behoofs, freely and quietly without any matter of challinge, claime, or demand of me the said John Bunyan, or of any other person, or persons, whatsoever for me in my name, by my means cays or procurement, and without any mony or other thing, therefore to be yeeilded, paid or done vnto me the said John Bunyan, my executors, administrators or assigns. And I, the said John Bunyan, all and singular, the aforesaid goods, chattels, and premises to the said Elizabeth my wife, her executors, administrators, and assignes to the vse aforesaid, against all people do warrant and forever defend by these presents. And further, know ye, that I the said John Bunyan have put the said Elizabeth, my wife, in peacable and quiet possession of all and singuler the aforesaid premises, by the delivrye vnto her at the ensealing hereof one coyned peece of silver, commonly called two pence, fixed on the seal of these presents.317

317 Some of the wax remains, but the coin is lost.

In wittnes wherof, I the said John Bunyan have herevnto set my hand and seall this 23d day of December, in the first year of the reigne of our soueraigne lord, King James the Second of England, &c., in the year of our lord and saviour, Jesus Christ, 1685.

(See book for signature)

Sealed and delivered in the presence of vs, whos names are here vnder written:—


It appears from this deed that Bunyan continued in business as a brazier, and it is very probable that he carried it on until his decease. This deed secured to his wife what little he possessed, without the trouble or expense of applying to the ecclesiastical courts for probate of a will.

Among other opinions which then divided the Christian world, was a very important one relative to the law of the ten commandments, whether it was given to the world at large, or limited to the Jews as a peculiar nation until the coming of Messiah, and whether our Lord altered or annulled the whole or any part of that law. This question involves the observance of the seventh-day Sabbath. An awful curse is denounced upon those who do not continue in ALL things which are written in the book of the law to do them (Ga 3:10; De 27:26). When an innovation upon the almost universal practice of infant baptism had become an object of inquiry only to be answered from the New Testament, it is not surprising that the serious question, why God's Sabbath-day had been altered, should also be agitated with deep feeling. Generally, those who advocated the restoration of the Jewish Sabbath were decidedly of opinion that believers only were fit subjects for baptism, and that the scriptural mode of administering it was by immersion; hence they were called Seventh-day Baptists—Sabbatarians, or Sabbath-keepers.

Bunyan entered with very proper and temperate zeal into this controversy. Popular feeling had no influence over him; nor could he submit to the opinions of the ancient fathers. His storehouse of knowledge was limited to the revealed will of God, and there he found ample material to guide his opinion. His work upon this subject is called, Questions about the Nature and Perpetuity of the Seventh-day Sabbath; and proof that the First Day of the Week is the Christian Sabbath. It is one of the smallest of his volumes, but so weighty in argument as never to have been answered.

We now arrive at the last year of his eventful and busy life, during which he published six important volumes, and left twelve others in manuscript, prepared for publication. A list of these will be found in The Struggler;318 they are upon the most important subjects, which are very admirably treated. We notice among these, The Jerusalem Sinner Saved, or Good News for the Vilest of Men. It is a specimen of preaching calculated to excite the deepest interest, and afford the strongest consolation to a soul oppressed with the sense of sin. Great sinner! thou art called to mercy by name. Arise! shoulder thy way into court through any crowd,—'say, Stand away, devil; stand away all discouragements; my Saviour calls me to receive mercy.' In this treatise, Bunyan has repeated from memory what he had read in some book when in prison, four and twenty years before. It is a curious legend, which he doubtless believed to be true, and it displays his most retentive memory.319 His poetry, like his prose, was not written to gain a name, but to make a deep impression. One of his professed admirers made a strange mistake when he called them doggerel rhymes.320 His Caution to Watch Against Sin is full of solemn and impressive thoughts, the very reverse of doggerel or burlesque. his poem on the house of God is worthy of a most careful perusal; and thousands have been delighted and improved with his emblems. One rhyme in the Pilgrim can never be forgotten—

He that is down need fear no fall;
He that is low no pride;
He that is humble ever shall
Have God to be his guide, &c.

318 Vol. iii., p. 763.

319 Vol. i., p. 81.

320 Mr. Philip, Critique on Bunyan, p. vi. and xvi.

The careful perusal of every one of his treatises, has excited in my mind a much livelier interest than any other religious works which, in a long life, have come under my notice. In fact, the works of Bunyan to a country minister may be compared to a vast storehouse, most amply replenished with all those solemn subjects which call for his prayerful investigation; well arranged, ready of access, striking in their simplicity, full of vivid ideas conveyed in language that a novice may understand. They are all so admirably composed that pious persons, whether in houses of convocation or of parliament, or the inmates of a workhouse, may equally listen to them with increasing delight and instruction. No man ever more richly enjoyed the magnificent language of Job. He called it 'that blessed book.'321 The deep interest that he took in its scenery may be traced through all his writings. His spirit, with its mighty powers, grasped the wondrous truths so splendidly pourtrayed in that most ancient book. The inspired writings, which so eminently give wisdom to the simple, expanded his mind, while his mental powers were strengthened and invigorated by his so deeply drinking into the spirit of the inspired volume.

321 Vol. ii., p. 425.

The time was drawing near when, in the midst of his usefulness, and with little warning, he was to be summoned to his eternal rest. He had been seriously attacked with that dangerous pestilence which, in former years, ravaged this country, called the sweating sickness, a malady as mysterious and fatal as the cholera has been in later times. The disease was attended by great prostration of strength; but, under the careful management of his affectionate wife, his health became sufficiently restored to enable him to undertake a work of mercy; from the fulfillment of which, as a blessed close to his incessant earthly labour, he was to ascend to his Father and his God to be crowned with immortality. A father had been seriously offended with his son, and had threatened to disinherit him. To prevent the double mischief of a father dying in anger with his child, and the evil consequence to the child of his being cut off from his patrimony, Bunyan again ventured, in his weak state, on his accustomed work, to win the blessings of the peace-maker. He made a journey on horseback to Reading, it being the only mode of travelling at that time, and he was rewarded with success. Returning home by way of London to impart the gratifying intelligence, he was overtaken by excessive rains, and, in an exhausted state, he found a kindly refuge in the house of his Christian friend Mr. Strudwick, and was there seized with a fatal fever. His much-loved wife, who had so powerfully pleaded for his liberty with the judges, and to whom he had been united thirty years, was at a great distance from him. Bedford was then two days' journey from London. Probably at first, his friends had hopes of his speedy recovery; but when the stroke came, all his feelings, and those of his friends, appear to have been absorbed, by the anticipated blessings of immortality, to such an extent, that no record is left as to whether his wife, or any of his children, saw him cross the river of death. There is abundant testimony of his faith and patience, and that the presence of God was eminently with him.

He bore his trying sufferings with all the patience and fortitude that might be expected from such a man. His resignation was most exemplary; his only expressions were 'a desire to depart, to be dissolved, to be with Christ.' His sufferings were short, being limited to ten days. He enjoyed a holy frame of mind, desiring his friends to pray with him, and uniting fervently with them in the exercise. His last words, while struggling with death, were, `Weep not for me, but for yourselves. I go to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will, no doubt, through the mediation of his blessed Son, receive me, though a sinner; where I hope we ere long shall meet, to sing the new song, and remain everlastingly happy, world without end. Amen.' He felt the ground solid under his feet in passing the black river which has no bridge, and followed his pilgrim into the celestial city in August, 1688, in the sixtieth year of his age. There is some uncertainty as to the day of his decease: Charles Doe, in the Struggler, 1692, has August 31, and this has been copied in all his portraits. In the life appended to the Grace Abounding, 1692, his death-day is stated as August 12; and in the memoir appended to the third part of the Pilgrim, also in 1692, the date is August 17. The circumstances of his peaceful decease are well compared by Dr. Cheever to the experience of Mr. Standfast, when he was called to pass the river: the great calm—the firm footing—the address to by-standers—until his countenance changed, his strong man bowed under him, and his last words were, 'Take me, for I come to thee.' Then the joy among the angels while they welcomed the hero of such spiritual fights, and conducted his wandering soul to the New Jerusalem, which he had so beautifully described as 'the holy city'; and then his wonder and amazement to find how infinitely short his description came to the blissful reality.

The deep affliction that his church was plunged into led to several special meetings. Wednesday, the 4th of September, 'was kept in prayer and humiliation for this heavy stroke upon us—the death of dear brother Bunyan; it was appointed also, that Wednesday next be kept in prayer and humiliation on the same account. At the meeting held on the 11th, it was appointed that all the brethren meet together on the 18th of this month, September, to humble themselves for this heavy hand of God upon us, and also to pray unto the Lord for counsel and direction what to do, in order to seek out for a fit person to make choice of for an elder. On the 18th, when the whole congregation met to humble themselves before God, by fasting and prayer, for his heavy and severe stroke upon us in taking away our honoured brother Bunyan by death, it was agreed by the whole congregation that care be taken to seek out for one suitably qualified to be chosen an elder among us, and that care was committed by the whole to the brethren at Bedford.' Thus did the church manifest that they had improved in wisdom under his ministry by flying, in their extreme distress, to the only source of consolation.

The saddest feelings of sorrow extended to every place where he had been known. His friend, the Rev. G. Cockayn, of London, says, `it pleased the Lord to remove him, to the great loss and inexpressible grief of many precious souls.' Numerous elegies, acrostics, and poems were published on the occasion of his decease, lamenting the loss thus sustained by his country—by the church at large, and particularly by the church and congregation at Bedford. One of these, 'written by a dear friend of his,' is a fair sample of the whole:—


The pilgrim traveling the world's vast stage,
At last does end his weary pilgrimage:
He now in pleasant valleys does sit down,
And, for his toil, receives a glorious crown.
The storms are past, the terrors vanish all,
Which in his way did so affrighting fall;
He grieves nor sighs no more, his race is run Successfully, that was so well begun.
You'll say he's dead: 0 no, he cannot die,
He's only changed to immortality—
Weep not for him, who has no cause of tears; Hush, then, your sighs, and calm your needless fears.
If anything in love to him is meant,
Tread his last steps, and of your sins repent:
If knowledge of things here at all remains
Beyond the grave, to please him for his pains
And suffering in this world; live, then, upright,
And that will be to him a grateful sight.
Run such a race as you again may meet,
And find your conversation far more sweet;
When purged from dross, you shall, unmix'd, possess
The purest essence of eternal bliss  

`He in the pulpit preached truth first, and then He in his practice preached it o'er again.

His remains were interred in Bunhill Fields, in the vault of his friend Mr. Strudwick, at whose house he died. His tomb322 has been visited by thousands of pilgrims, blessing God for his goodness in raising up such a man, so signally fitted to be a blessing to the times in which he lived. All the accounts of his decease, published at the time, agree as to his place of burial. The words of Mr. Doe, who probably attended the funeral, are, 'he was buried in the new burying-place, near the artillery ground, where he sleeps to the morning of the resurrection.'323 His Life and Actions, 1692, records that 'his funeral was performed with much decency, and he was buried in the new burying-ground by Moorfields.' The Struggler calls it 'Finsbury burying-ground, where many London Dissenting ministers are laid.'324 Bunhill Fields burying-ground for Dissenters was first opened in 1666. The inscription upon the tomb to his memory was engraven many years after his funeral. It is not contained in the list of inscriptions published in 1717. His widow survived him four years. He had six children by his first wife, three of whom survived him—Thomas, Joseph, and Sarah. His son Thomas joined his church in 1673, and was a preacher in 1692. He appears to have been usefully employed in visiting absent members until December 1718. My kind friend, the Rev. J. P. Lockwood, rector of South Hackney, recently discovered entries in the register of Kimbolton, in Huntingdonshire, probably of the descendants of this son, Thomas. November 26, 1698, John Bonion and Mary Rogers, married: she was buried, September 7, 1706; and he again married Anne, and buried her in 1712, leaving a son and two daughters. His death is not recorded. One of the descendants, Hannah Bunyan, died in 1770, aged seventy-six years, and lies in the burial-ground by the meetinghouse at Bedford. John Bunyan's son, Joseph, settled at Nottingham, and marrying a wealthy woman, conformed to the Church. A lineal descendant of his was living, in 1847, at Islington, near London, aged eighty-four, Mrs. Senegar, a fine hearty old lady, and a Strict Baptist. She said to me, 'Sir, excuse the vanity of an old woman, but I will show you how I sometimes spend a very pleasant half-hour.' She took down a portrait on canvas of her great forefather, and propped it up on the table with a writing-desk, with a looking-glass by its side. `There, Sir, I look at the portrait, and then at myself, and can trace every feature; we resemble each other like two pins.' Excepting the imperial and moustachios,' I replied; to which she readily assented. It was the fact that there was a striking family likeness between the picture and her reflection in the looking-glass. Another descendant, from the same branch of the family, is now living at Lincoln. He was born in 1775, and possessed a quarto Bible, published by Barker and Bill in 1641, given by John Bunyan to his son Joseph. This was preserved in his family until the present year, when it came into the editor's possession, with the following relics, which were, and I trust will yet be preserved with the greatest care:—An iron pencase, made by Bunyan the brazier, with some stumps of old pens, with which it is said he wrote some of his sermons and books; the buckles worn by him, and his two pocketknives, one of them made before springs were invented, and which is kept open by turning a ferrule; his apple-scoop, curiously carved, and a seal; his pocket-box of scales and weights for money, being stamped with the figures on each side of the coins of James and Charles I.325 These were given by Robert Bunyan, in 1839, then sixty-four years of age, to a younger branch of the family, Mr. Charles Robinson, of Wilford, near Nottingham (his sister's son), for safe custody. He died in 1852; while his aged uncle remains in good health, subject to the infirmities of his seventy-eighth year. On many of the blank spaces in the Bible are the registers of births and deaths in the family, evidently written at the time. Those relics are deposited in a carved oak box. They were sold with the late Mr. Robinson's effects, January, 1853, and secured for me by my excellent friend James

322 Vol. iii., p. 766.

323 Grace Abounding, 1692.

324 No. 25, E.; 26, W.; 26, N.; 27, S.

325 As matters of curious interest to all lovers of Bunyan, we insert, in the accompanying page, engravings of these relics, from drawings by Mr. Edward Offor.

Dix, Esq., of Bristol, who met with them immediately after the sale, on one of his journeys at Nottingham. They are not worshipped as relics, nor have they performed miracles, but as curiosities of a past age they are worthy of high consideration. Everything that was used by him, and that survives the ravages of time, possesses a peculiar charm; even the chair in which he at is preserved in the vestry of the new chapel, and is shown to those who make the pilgrimage to the shrine of Bunyan.326

326 The chair is engraved above, and it will be seen that it has suffered some little dilapidation since the last published engraving of it. The legs have been cut down to suit the height of one of his successors in the ministry!! With regard to the pulpit, an old resident in Bedford says—The celebrated John Howard presented a new pulpit in the room of the old one, which was cut up. Of part of the wood a table was made, which now belongs to Mrs. Hillyerd.

Bunyan's Chair. (See book for picture) 

In the same vestry is also a curious inlaid cabinet, small, and highly finished. It descended from Bunyan to a lady who lived to an advanced age—Madam Bithray; from her to the Rev. Mr. Voley; and of his widow it was purchased to ornament the vestry of Bunyan's meeting-house.

Bunyan's Cabinet. (See book for picture)

The personal appearance and character of our pilgrim's guide, drawn by his friend Charles Doe, will be found at the end of his Grace Abounding; to which is appended his Dying Sayings—'of sin—afflictions—repentance and coming to Christ—of prayer—of the Lord's day, sermons, and week days: "Make the Lord's day the market for thy soul"—of the love of the world—of suffering—of death and judgment—of the joys of heaven—and the torments of hell.'

How inscrutable are the ways of God! Had Bunyan lived a month longer, he would have witnessed the glorious Revolution—the escape of a great nation. The staff and hope of Protestant Europe was saved from a subtle—a Jesuitical attempt—to introduce Popery and arbitrary government. The time of his death, as a release from the incumbrance of a material body, was fixed by infinite wisdom and love at that juncture, and it ought not to be a cause of regret. His interest in the welfare of the church ceased not with his mortal life. How swiftly would his glorified spirit fly to see the landing of William, and hover with joy over the flight of the besotted James! He was now in a situation to prove the truth of that saying, 'the angels desire to look into' the truth and spread of the glad tidings. How he would prove the reality of his opinion, expressed in The Holy War, of the interest taken by the inhabitants of heaven in the prosperity of the church on earth. When Mansoul was conquered, the spirits that witnessed the victory 'shouted with that greatness of voice, and sung with such melodious notes, that they caused them that dwell in the highest orbs to open their windows, and put out their heads and look down to see the cause of that glory' (Lu 15:7-10).327 So may we imagine that the happy, happy, glorified spirit of Bunyan would look down rejoicing, when, a few years after he had yielded up his pastoral cares, the seed which he had been instrumental in sowing produced its fruit in such numbers, that the old meeting-house was pulled down, and in its place a large and respectable one was erected. And again, on the 20th February, 1850, with what joy would he look down upon the opening of a still larger, more commodious, and handsome meetinghouse, bearing his name, and capable of holding 1150 worshippers. One of Bunyan's pungent, alarming sayings to the careless was, `Once die, we cannot come back and die better.'328 If anything could tempt him, in his angelic body, to re-visit this earth, it would be to address the multitude at the new Bunyan Chapel with his old sermon on The Jerusalem Sinner Saved, or Good News to the Vilest of Men. But we have Moses and the prophets—Christ and his apostles; if we shut our ears to them, neither should we listen to a messenger from the New Jerusalem.

327 Vol. iii., p. 297.

328 Vol. i., p. 714.

PERSONAL UTENSILS USED BY JOHN BUNYAN (See book or PDF file for pictures)

Pocket-Knife, with spring.

Pocket-Box of Scales and Weights, for the purchase of old gold, and dipped or worn money, with the figures of the coin on each weight in the reign of James I.  

His Apple-Scoop, curiously carved.  

Larger Knife, without spring, kept open or shut, by turning a ferrule.

When it is recollected that Bunyan received the most imperfect rudiments of education in a charity school when very young, which were `almost entirely' obliterated by bad habits—that he was a hard-working man through life, maintaining himself, a wife, and four children, by his severe labour as a brazier—and yet, by personal efforts, he educated himself and wrote sixty-two valuable religious treatises, numbering among them his inimitable allegories, The Pilgrim's Progress and Holy War, made a Concordance to the Bible, and conducted important controversies. Preaching, while at liberty, almost innumerable sermons on the Lord's-days and week-days, early in the morning and late at night. Visiting his flock with pastoral care—founding churches in the villages, and even in towns and cities far distant from his dwelling—constantly giving advice to promote peace and good will, and rendering benevolent aid by long journeys! His whole life presents to us a picture of most astonishing, energetic perseverance. Every moment of time must have been employed as if he valued it as a precious trust, which, if once lost, could never be regained. Who of us can compare our life with his last thirty years, and not blush with shame!

The finest trait in Bunyan's Christian character was his deep, heartfelt humility. This is the more extraordinary from his want of secular education, and his unrivalled talent. The more we learn, the greater is the field for research that opens before us, insomuch that the wisest philosophers have most seriously felt the little progress they have made. He acknowledged to Mr. Cockayn, who considered him the most eminent man, and a star of the first magnitude in the firmament of the churches,329 that spiritual pride was his easily besetting sin, and that he needed the thorn in the flesh, lest he should be exalted above measure. A sense of this weakness probably led him to peculiar watchfulness against it. His self-abasement was neither tinctured with affectation, nor with the pride of humility. His humble-mindedness appeared to arise form his intimate communion with Heaven. In daily communion with God, he received a daily lesson of deeper and deeper humility. 'I am the high and lofty One, I inhabit eternity! verily this consideration is enough to make a brokenhearted man creep into a mouse-hole, to hide himself from such majesty! There is room in this man's heart for God to dwell.'330 'I find it one of the hardest things that I can put my soul upon, even to come to God, when warmly sensible that I am a sinner, for a share in grace and mercy. I cannot but with a thousand tears say, "God be merciful to me a sinner" (Ezr 9:15).'331

329 Vol. i., p. 686.

330 Vol. i., pp. 690, 691.

331 Vol. ii., p. 261.

The Revs. Messrs. Chandler and Wilson, bear the following testimony as eye-witnesses to his character:—'His fancy and invention were very pregnant and fertile. His wit was sharp and quick—his memory tenacious, it being customary with him to commit his sermons to writing after he had preached them,' a proof of extraordinary industry. 'His understanding was large and comprehensive—his judgment sound and deep in the fundamentals of the gospel. His experience of Satan's temptations in the power and policy of them, and of Christ's presence in, and by his Word and Spirit to succour and comfort him, was more than ordinary; the grace of God was magnified in him and by him, and a rich anointing of the Spirit was upon him; and yet this great saint was always in his own eyes the chiefest of sinners, and the least of saints. He was not only well furnished with the helps and endowments of nature, beyond ordinary, but eminent in the graces and gifts of the Spirit, and fruits of holiness. He was from first to last established in, and ready to maintain, that Godlike principle of having communion with saints as such, without any respect to difference in things disputable among the godly. His carriage was condescending, affable, and meek to all, yet bold and courageous for Christ. He was much struck at, in the lat times of persecution; being far from any sinful compliance to save himself, he did cheerfully bear the cross.' Such was the character given of him by these two eminent divines, in 1693, while his memory, in its fullest fragrance, was cherished by all the churches.

This humility peculiarly fitted him to instruct the young, of whom he was very fond—

Nor do I blush, although I think some may
Call me a baby, 'cause I with them play;
I do 't to show them how each fingle fangle
On which they doating are, their souls entangle;
And, since at gravity they make a tush,
My very beard I cast behind a bush.332

332 Vol. iii., p. 748.

He had friends among the rich as well as the poor. Of this his solid gold ring and handsome cabinet are proofs. From a letter in the Ellis correspondence, we learn that Bunyan had so secured the affections of the Lord Mayor of London, as to be called his chaplain.333

333 It is noticed, in a letter to the Secretary for Ireland, dated September 6, 1688—'On teusday last died the Lord Mayor Sir J. Shorter. A few days before died Bunnian his lordship's teacher or chaplain a man said to be gifted that way though once a cobler' [Ellis's Cor., vol. ii., p. 161]. We can excuse the sarcasm of a Roman Catholic, and with equal good nature, and more truth, remark, that the great and eminent pope, Sixtus V., was once a swineherd—not a bad school in which to study how to keep up a despotic sway over the Papacy.

Among his religious friends and associates he must have been a pleasing, entertaining, lively companion. However solemn, nay awful, had been his experience when walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, yet when emerging from the darkness and enjoying the sunshine of Divine favour, he loved social intercourse and communion of saints. It is one of the slanders heaped upon Christianity to call it a gloomy, melancholy theme: though 'it is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting,' yet the wisely pious man will endeavour, even at an elegant entertainment or a Lord Mayor's dinner, to drop useful hints. Whenever Bunyan describes a social party, especially a feast, he always introduces a wholesome dish; and it is singular, in the abundance of publications, that we have not been favoured with John Bunyan's Nuts to Crack at Religious Entertainments, or a Collection of his Pious Riddles. Thus, at the splendid royal feast given to Emmanuel, when he entered Mansoul in triumph, 'he entertained the town with some curious riddles, of secrets drawn up by his father's secretary, by the skill and wisdom of Shaddai, the like to which there are not in any kingdom.' Emmanuel also expounded unto them some of those riddles himself, but 0 how were they lightened! They saw what they never saw, they could not have thought that such rarities could have been couched in such few and ordinary words. The lamb, the sacrifice, the rock, the door, the way.'334 'The second Adam was before the first, and the second covenant was before the first.'335 `Was Adam bad before he eat the forbidden fruit?'336 'How can a man say his prayers without a word being read or uttered?'337 'How do men speak with their feet?' Answer, Pr 6:13.338 'Why was the brazen laver made of the women's looking-glasses?'339 'How can we comprehend that which cannot be comprehended, or know that which passeth knowledge?'340 'Who was the founder of the state or priestly domination over religion?'341 What is meant by the drum of Diabolus and other riddles mentioned in The Holy War?342 The poetical riddles in The Pilgrim's Progress are very striking--

334 Vol. iii., p. 308.

335 Law and Grace, marg., vol. i., p. 524.

336 Vol. ii., p. 651.

337 Vol. i., pp. 634, 635.

338 Vol. ii., p. 653.

339 Vol. i., p. 647.

340 Vol. ii., p. 15.

341 Vol. ii., p. 497.

342 Vol. iii., p. 251.

`A man there was, though some did count him mad,
The more he cast away, the more he had.'

How can 'evil make the soul from evil turn.'343

Can 'sin be driven out of the world by suffering?'344

`Though it may seem to some a riddle,
We use to light our candles at the middle.'345

`What men die two deaths at once?'346

`Are men ever in heaven and on earth at the same time? '347

`Can a beggar be worth ten thousand a-year and not know it?'348

343 Emblem xiv., vol. iii., p. 751.

344 Christ is made known by the sufferings of his saints, vol. ii., p. 701, and note.

345 Vol. iii., p. 751, and note.

346 Vol. iii., p. 595.

347 Vol. ii., p. 22.

348 Vol. ii., p. 257.

He even introduced a dance upon the destruction of Despair, Mr. Ready-to-halt, with his partner Miss Much-afraid, while Christiana and Mercy furnished the music. 'True, he could not dance without one crutch in his hand; but I promise you he footed it well. Also the girl was to be commended, for she answered the music handsomely.' Is this the gloomy fanaticism of a Puritan divine? It is true, that promiscuous dancing, or any other amusement tending to evil, he had given up and discountenanced, but all his writings tend to prove that the Christian only can rationally and piously enjoy the world that now is, while living in the delightful hope of bliss in that which is to come.

Bunyan's personal appearance and character was drawn by his friend Mr. Doe. 'He appeared in countenance stern and rough, but was mild and affable; loving to reconcile differences and make friendships. He made it his study, above all other things, not to give occasion of offence. In his family he kept a very strict discipline in prayer and exhortations. He had a sharp, quick eye, and an excellent discerning of persons; of good judgment and quick wit. Tall in stature, strong-boned; somewhat of a ruddy face with sparkling eyes; his hair reddish, but sprinkled with gray; nose well set; mouth moderately large; forehead something high, and his habit always plain and modest.'

My determination in writing this memoir has been to follow the scriptural example, by fairly recording every defect discoverable in Bunyan's character; but what were considered by some to be blemishes, after his conversion, appear, in my estimation, to be beauties. His moral and religious character was irreproachable, and his doctrinal views most scriptural; all agree in this, that he was a bright and shining light; unrivalled for his allegories, and for the vast amount of his usefulness. His friend, Mr. Wilson, says, 'Though his enemies and persecutors, in his lifetime, did what they could to vilify and reproach him, yet, being gone, he that before had the testimony of their consciences, hath now their actual commendation and applause.'349 To this we may add, that he was without sectarianism, a most decided Bible Christian. This reveals the secret of his striking phraseology. It was in the sacred pages of Divine truth that he learned grammar and rhetoric. Style, and all his knowledge of the powers of language—all were derived from the only source of his religious wisdom and learning. He lived, and thought, and wrote under the influence of the holy oracles, translated by the Puritans in 1560, compared with the version of 1611. This gives a charm to all his works, and suits them to every human capacity.

349 Works, folio, 1693.

Reader, the object of biography is to excite emulation. Why should not others arise as extensively to bless the world as Bunyan did? The storehouses of heaven from which he was replenished with holy treasures, are inexhaustible. As he said, 'God has bags of mercy yet unsealed.' We have the same holy Ooracles, and the same mercy-seat. The time is past for merely challenging the right to personal judgment of religious truths. In Britain the lions are securely chained, and the cruel giants disabled. The awful crime of imprisoning and torturing man for conscience' sake, exists only in kingdoms where darkness reigns—

"Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy.'

We stand upon higher ground than our forefathers; we take our more solemn stand upon the imperative duty of personal investigation—that no one can claim the name of Christian, unless he has laid aside all national, or family, or educational prejudices, and drawn from the holy oracles alone all his scheme of salvation and rules of conduct. All the secret of Bunyan's vast usefulness, the foundation of all his honour, is, that the fear of God swallowed up the fear of man; that he was baptized into the truths of revelation, and lived to exemplify them. He was a bright and shining light in a benighted world; and of him it may be most emphatically said, 'Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord, that they may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them.'


010 The Pilgrim’s Progress





As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place, where was a den;[1] and I laid me down in that place to sleep: and as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and, behold, "I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back," (Isa 64:6; Lu 14:33; Ps 38:4; Hab 2:2; Ac 16:31). I looked, and saw him open the book,[2]  and read therein; and as he read, he wept and trembled; and not being able longer to contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, "What shall I do?" (Ac 2:37)[3

In this plight, therefore, he went home, and refrained himself as long as he could, that his wife and children should not perceive his distress; but he could not be silent long, because that his trouble increased. Wherefore at length he brake his mind to his wife and children; and thus he began to talk to them: "0 my dear wife," said he, "and you, the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend, am in myself undone, by reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; moreover, I am for certain informed that this our city will be burned with fire from Heaven; in which fearful overthrow, both myself, with thee, my wife, and you, my sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin, except (the which yet I see not) some way of escape can be found, whereby we may be delivered." At this, his relations were sore amazed; not for that they believed that what he had said to them was true, but because they thought that some frenzy distemper had got into his head;[4]  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 also thought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly carriages to him. Sometimes they would deride, sometimes they would chide, and sometimes they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he began to retire himself to his chamber to pray for, and pity them, and also to condole his own misery. He would also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes reading, and sometimes praying; and thus for some days he spent his time.[5]

Now I saw upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that he was, as he was wont, reading in his book, and greatly distressed in his mind; and as he read, he burst out, as he had done before, crying, "What shall I do to be saved?" (Ac 16:30-31).

I saw also that he looked this way and that way, as if he would run; yet he stood still, because, as I perceived, he could not tell which way to go.[6] I looked then, and saw a man named Evangelist coming to him, who asked, "Where fore dost thou cry?"

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

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

Then said Evangelist, If this be thy condition, why standest thou still? He answered, Because I know not whither to go. Then he gave him a parchment roll, and there was written within, "Fly from the wrath to come" (Mt 3:7).

The man therefore, read it, and looking upon Evangelist very carefully, said, Whither must I fly? Then said Evangelist, pointing with his finger over a very wide field, Do you see yonder wicket gate? (Mt 7:13). The man said, No. Then said the other, Do you see yonder shining light? (Ps 119:105; 2Pe 1:19). He said, I think I do. Then said Evangelist, Keep that light in your eye, and go up directly thereto, so shalt thou see the gate; at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt do.[7] So I saw in my dream that the man began to run. Now, he had not ran far from his own door, but his wife and children perceiving it, began to cry after him to return (Lu 14:26); but the man put his fingers in his ears, and ran on, crying, Life! life! Eternal life ! So he looked not behind him (Ge 19:17), but fled towards the middle of the plain.[8]

The neighbours also came out to see him run, and as he ran, some mocked, others threatened, and some cried after him to return; and among those that did so, there were two that were resolved to fetch him back by force (Jer 20:10). The name of the one was Obstinate, and the name of the other Pliable.[9] Now by this time, the man was got a good distance from them; but, however, they were resolved to pursue him; which they did, and in a little time they overtook him. Then said the man, Neighbours, wherefore are ye come? They said, To persuade you to go back with us. But he said, That can by no means be. You dwell, said he, in the City of Destruction, the place also where I was born; I see it to be so; and dying there, sooner or later, you will sink lower than the grave, into a place that burns with fire and brimstone. Be content, good neighbours, and go along with me.

What, said Obstinate, and leave our friends and our comforts behind us?[10]

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

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

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

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

CHR. No, not I, saith the other; because I have laid my hand to the plough (Lu 9:62).

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

PLI. Then said Pliable, Do not revile; if what the good Christian says is true, the things he looks after are better than ours; my heart inclines to go with my neighbour.

OBST. What! more fools still? Be ruled by me, and go back; who knows whither such a brain-sick fellow will lead you? Go back, go back, and be wise.

CHR. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbour Pliable: there are such things to be had which I spoke of, and many more glories besides; if you believe not me, read here in this book, and for the truth of what is expressed therein, behold, all is confirmed by the blood of Him that made it (Heb 13:20-21; 9:17-21).

PLI. Well, neighbour Obstinate, saith Pliable, I begin to come to a point; I intend to go along with this good man, and to cast in my lot with him. But, my good companion, do you know the way to this desired place?

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

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

OBST. And I will go back to my place, said Obstinate; I will be no companion of such misled fantastical fellows.

Now I saw in my dream, that when Obstinate was gone back, Christian and Pliable went talking over the plain; and thus they began their discourse.

CHR. Come, neighbour Pliable, how do you do? I am glad you are persuaded to go along with me; had even Obstinate himself but felt what I have felt, of the powers and terrors of what is yet unseen, he would not thus lightly have given us the back.

PLI. Come, neighbour Christian, since there is none but us two here, tell me now further, what the things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither we are going.

CHR. I can better conceive of them with my mind, than speak of them with my tongue; but yet since you are desirous to know, I will read of them in my book.

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

CHR. Yes, verily, for it was made by Him that cannot lie (Tit 1:2).

PLI. Well said. What things are they?

CHR. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and everlasting life to be given us, that we may inhabit that kingdom forever (Isa 45:17; Joh 10:27-29).

PLI. Well said. And what else?

CHR. There are crowns of glory to be given us, and garments that will make us shine like the sun in the firmament of Heaven! (2Ti 4:8; Re 3:4; Mt 13:43).

PLI. This is very pleasant. And what else?

CHR. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow; for He that is owner of the place will wipe all tears from our eyes (Isa 25:8; Re 7:17,17; 21:4).

PLI. And what company shall we have there?

CHR. There we shall be with seraphims, and Cherubims, creatures that will dazzle your eyes to look on them. 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, everyone walking in the sight of God, and standing in His presence with acceptance forever; in a word, there we shall see the elders with their golden crowns; there we shall see the holy virgins with their golden harps; there we shall see men, that by the world were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned in the seas, for the love that they bare to the Lord of the Place; all well, and clothed with immortality as with a garment[11] (Isa 6:2; 1Th 4:16-17; Re 7:17; 4:4; 14:1-5; Joh 12:25; 2Co 5:2-5).

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

CHR. The Lord, the Governor of the country, hath recorded, that in this book, the substance of which is, if we be truly willing to have it, He will bestow it upon us freely (Isa 55:1-2,12; Joh 7:37; 6:37; Ps 21:6; 22:17).

PLI. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these things; come on, let us mend our pace.[12]

CHR. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that is on my back. Now I saw in my dream, that, just as they had ended this talk, they drew near to a very miry slough that was in the midst of the plain; and they, being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog. The name of the slough was De spond.[13] Here, therefore, they wallowed for a time, being grievously bedaubed with the dirt; and Christian, because of the burden that was on his back, began to sink in the mire.

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

CHR. Truly, said Christian, I do not know.

PLI. At that Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to his fellow, Is this the happiness you have told me all this while of? If we have such ill speed at our first setting out, what may we expect betwixt this and our journey's end? May I get out again with my life, you shall possess the brave country alone for me. And with that he gave a desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire on that side of the slough which was next to his own house: so away he went, and Christian saw him no more. Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond alone; but still he endeavoured to struggle to that side of the slough that was still further from his own house, and next to the wicket-gate; the which he did, but could not get out, because of the burden that was upon his back.[14] But I beheld in my dream, that a man came to him, whose name was Help, and asked him what he did there?

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

HELP. But why did not you look for the steps?

CHR. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next way, and fell in.[15]

HELP. Then said he, Give me thy hand; so he gave him his hand, and he drew him out, and set him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way (Ps 40:2).

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

It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain so bad (Isa 35:3-4); his labourers, also, have, by the directions of his Majesty's surveyors, been, for above these 1,600 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 20,000 cart-loads; yea, millions of wholesome instructions, that have, at all seasons, been brought from all places of the King's dominions, and they that can tell, say, they are the best materials to make good ground of the place, if so be it might have been mended; but it is the Slough of Despond still ; and so will be when they have done what they can.[16]

True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, certain good and substantial steps, placed even through the very midst of this slough; but at such time as this place doth much 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 besides, and then they are bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there; but the ground is good, when they are once got in at the gate[17] (1Sa 12:23).

Now I saw in my dream, that, by this time, Pliable was got home to his house again; so that his neighbours came to visit him; and some of them called him wise man for coming back, and some called him fool for hazarding himself with Christian; others, again, did mock at his cowardliness, saying, "Surely, since you began to venture, I would not have been so base to have given out for a few difficulties." So Pliable sat sneaking among them. But, at last, he got more confidence, and then they all turned their tales, and began to deride poor Christian behind his back. And thus much concerning Pliable.

Now as Christian was walking solitarily by himself,[18] he espied one afar off come crossing over the field to meet him; and their hap was to meet just as they were crossing the way of each other. The gentleman's name that met him was Mr. Worldly-wiseman; he dwelt in the town of Carnal Policy, a very great town, and also hard by from whence Christian came. This man, then, meeting with Christian, and having some inkling[19] of him, for Christian's setting forth from the City of Destruction was much noised abroad, not only in the town where he dwelt, but, also, it began to be the town-talk in some other places. Master Worldly-wiseman, therefore, having some guess of him, by beholding his laborious going, by observing his sighs and groans, and the like, began thus to enter into some talk with Christian.

WORLD. How now, good fellow, whither away after this burdened manner?

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

WORLD. Hast thou a wife and children?

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

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

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

WORLD. I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed get thyself rid of thy burden: for thou wilt never be settled in thy mind till then; nor canst thou enjoy the benefits of the blessing which God hath bestowed upon thee till then.

CHR. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy burden; but get it off myself, I cannot; nor is there any man in our country that can take it off my shoulders; therefore am I going this way, as I told you, that I may be rid of my burden.

WORLD. Who bid you go this way to be rid of thy burden?

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

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

CHR. Why, Sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible to me than are all these things which you have mentioned; nay, methinks I care not what I meet with in the way, if so be I can also meet with deliverance from my burden.

WORLD. How camest thou by the burden at first?

CHR. By reading this book in my hand.

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

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

WORLD. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing so many dangers attend it? especially since, hadst thou but patience to hear me, I could direct thee to the obtaining of what thou desirest, without the dangers that thou in this way wilt run thyself into; yea, and the remedy is at hand. Besides, I will add, that, instead of those dangers, thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship, and content. [20]

CHR. Pray, Sir, open this secret to me.

WORLD. Why, in yonder village-the village is named Morality-there dwells a gentleman whose name is Legality, a very judicious man, and a man of a very good name, that has skill to help men off with such burdens as thine are from their shoulders: yea, to my knowledge, he hath done a great deal of good this way; aye, and besides, he hath skill to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens.[21] To him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be helped presently. His house is not quite a mile from this place, and if he should not be at home himself, be hath a pretty young man to his son, whose name is Civility, that can do it (to speak on) as well as the old gentleman himself; there, I say, thou mayest be eased of thy burden; and if thou art not minded to go back to thy former habitation, as, indeed, I would not wish thee, thou mayest send for thy wife and children to thee to this village, where there are houses now stand empty, one of which thou mayest have at reasonable rates; provision is there also cheap and good; and that which will make thy life the more happy is, to be sure, there thou shalt live by honest neighbours, in credit and good fashion.

Now was Christian somewhat at a stand; but presently he concluded, if this be true, which this gentleman hath said, my wisest course is to take his advice; and with that he thus further spoke.

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

WORLD. Do you see yonder hill?

CHR. Yes, very well.

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

So Christian turned out of his way, to go to Mr. Legality's house for help; but, behold, when he was got now hard by the hill, it seemed so high, and also that side of it that was next the wayside, did hang so much over, that Christian was afraid to venture further, lest the hill should fall on his head; wherefore there he stood still, and wotted[22] not what to do. Also his burden now seemed heavier to him, than while he was in his way. There came also flashes of fire out of the hill, that made Christian afraid that he should be burned (Ex 19:16,18). Here, therefore, he sweat and did quake for fear (Heb 12:21). And now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly-wiseman's counsel. And with that he saw Evangelist coming to meet him; at the sight also of whom he began to blush for shame. So Evangelist drew nearer and nearer; and coming up to him, he looked upon him with a severe and dreadful countenance, and thus began to reason with Christian.

EVAN. What dost thou here, Christian? said he: at which words Christian knew not what to answer; wherefore at present he stood speechless before him. Then said Evangelist further, Art not thou the man that I found crying without the walls of the City of Destruction?

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

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

CHR. Yes, dear Sir, said Christian.

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

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

EVAN. What was he?

CHR. He looked like a gentleman,[23] and talked much to me, and got me at last to yield; so I came hither: but when I beheld this hill, and how it hangs over the way, I suddenly made a stand, lest it should fall on my head.

EVAN. What said that gentleman to you?

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

EVAN. And what said he then?

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

EVAN. And what said he then?

CHR. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden; and I told him it was ease that I sought. And, said I, I am therefore going to yonder gate, to receive further direction how I may get to the place of deliverance. So he said that he would show me a better way, and short, not so attended with difficulties as the way, Sir, that you set me in; which way, said he, will direct you to a gentleman's house that hath skill to take off these burdens: so I believed him,[24] and turned out of that way into this, if haply I might be soon eased of my burden. But when I came to this place, and beheld things as they are, I stopped for fear (as I said) of danger: but I now know not what to do.

EVAN. Then, said Evangelist, stand still a little, that I may show thee the words of God. So he stood trembling. Then said Evangelist, "See that ye refuse not Him that speaketh. For if they escaped not who refused Him that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape, if we turn away from Him that speaketh from Heaven" (Heb 12:25). He said, moreover, "Now the just shall live by faith: but if any man draw back, My soul shall have no pleasure in him" (Heb 10:38). He also did thus apply them: Thou art the man that art running into this misery; thou hast begun to reject the counsel of the Most High, and to draw back thy foot from the way of peace, even almost to the hazarding of thy perdition!

Then Christian fell down at his foot as dead, crying, "Woe is me, for I am undone!" At the sight of which, Evangelist caught him by the right hand, saying, "All manner of sin and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto men" (Mt 12:31; Mr 3:28); "Be not faithless, but believing" (Joh 20:27). Then did Christian again a little revive, and stood up trembling, as at first, before Evangelist.[25]

Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, Give more earnest heed to the things that I shall tell thee of. I will now show thee who it was that deluded thee, and who it was also to whom he sent thee.-The man that met thee is one Worldly-wiseman, and rightly is he so called; partly, because he savoureth only the doctrine of this world (1Jo 4:5), (therefore he always goes to the town of Morality to church); and partly because he loveth that doctrine best, for it saveth him best from the cross (Ga 6:12). And because he is of this carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to prevent my ways, though right. Now there are three things in this man's counsel, that thou must utterly abhor.

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

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

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

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

He to whom thou wast sent for ease, being by name Legality, is the son of the bond woman which now is, and is in bondage with her children (Ga 4:21-27); and is, in a mystery, this mount Sinai, which thou hast feared will fall on thy head. Now, if she, with her children, are in bondage, how canst thou expect by them to be made free? This Legality, therefore, is not able to set thee free from thy burden. No man was as yet ever rid of his burden by him; no, nor ever is like to be: ye cannot be justified by the works of the law; for by the deeds of the law no man living can be rid of his burden: therefore, Mr. Worldly-wiseman is an alien, and Mr. Legality is a cheat; and for his son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering looks, he is but a hypocrite, and cannot help thee. Believe me, there is nothing in all this noise, that thou hast heard of these sottish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy salvation, by turning thee from the way in which I had set thee. After this, Evangelist called aloud to the heavens for confirmation of what he had said: and with that there came words and fire out of the mountain under which poor Christian stood, that made the hair of his flesh stand up. The words were thus pronounced: "As many as are of the works of the law are under the curse; for it is written, Cursed is everyone that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them[26] (Ga 3:10).

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

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

EVAN. Then said Evangelist to him, Thy sin is very great, for by it thou hast committed two evils; thou hast forsaken the way that is good, to tread in forbidden paths; yet will the man at the gate receive thee, for he has good-will for men; only, said he, take heed that thou turn not aside again, "lest thou perish from the way, when His wrath is kindled but a little" (Ps 2:12). Then did Christian address himself to go back; and Evangelist, after he had kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him God-speed. So he went on with haste, neither spake he to any man by the way; nor, if any asked him, would he vouchsafe them an answer. He went like one that was all the while treading on forbidden ground, and could by no means think himself safe, till again he was got into the way which he left, to follow Mr. Worldly-wiseman's counsel. So, in process of time, Christian got up to the gate. Now, over the gate there was written, "Knock, and it shall be opened unto you" (Mt 7:8).

He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, saying- "May I now enter here? Will He within Open to sorry me, though I have been An undeserving rebel? Then shall I Not fail to sing His lasting praise on high."

At last there came a grave person to the gate, named Good-will, who asked who was there? and whence he came? and what he would have?[27]

CHR. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from the City of Destruction, but am going to Mount Zion, that I may be delivered from the wrath to come. I would, therefore, Sir, since I am informed that by this gate is the way thither, know if you are willing to let me in!

GOOD-WILL. I am willing with all my heart, said he; and with that he opened the gate.[28]

So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull. Then said Christian, What means that? The other told him. A little distance from this gate, there is erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is the captain; from thence, both he and them that are with him shoot arrows at those that come up to this gate, if haply they may die before they can enter in.[29]

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

CHR. Evangelist bid me come hither, and knock (as I did); and he said that you, Sir, would tell me what I must do.

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

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

GOOD-WILL. But how is it that you came alone? CHR. Because none of my neighbours saw their danger, as I saw mine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHR. Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of Pliable, and if I should also say all the truth of myself, it will appear there is no betterment[30] betwixt him and myself. It is true, he went back to his own house, but I also turned aside to go in the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal arguments[31] of one Mr. Worldly-wiseman.

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

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

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

CHR. Why, truly, I do not know what had become of me there, had not Evangelist happily met me again, as I was musing in the midst of my dumps; but it was God's mercy that he came to me again, for else I had never come hither. But now I am come, such a one as I am, more fit, indeed, for death, by that mountain, than thus to stand talking with my Lord; but, 0! what a favour is this to me, that yet I am admitted entrance here!

GOOD-WILL. We make no objections against any, notwithstanding all that they have done before they come hither. They are "in no wise cast out" (Joh 6:37); and therefore, good Christian, come a little way with me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look before thee; dost thou see this narrow way? THAT is the way thou must go; it was cast up by the patriarchs, prophets, Christ, and His Apostles; and it is as straight as a rule can make it. This is the way thou must go.[32]

CHR. But, said Christian, are there no turnings nor windings, by which a stranger may lose his way?

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

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him further if he could not help him off with his burden that was upon his back; for as yet he had not got rid thereof, nor could he by any means get it off without help.

He told him, as to thy burden, be content to bear it, until thou comest to the place of deliverance; for there it will fall from thy back of itself.

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey. So the other told him, That by that he was gone some distance from the gate, he would come at the house of the Interpreter; at whose door he should knock, and he would show him excellent things. Then Christian took his leave of his friend, and he again bid him God-speed.

Then he went on till he came at the house of the Interpreter,[33] where he knocked over and over; at last one came to the door, and asked who was there.

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

CHR. Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am come from the City of Destruction, and am going to the Mount Zion; and I was told by the man that stands at the gate, at the head of this way, that if I called here, you would show me excellent things, such as would be a help to me in my journey.[34]

INTER. Then said the Interpreter, Come in; I will show thee that which will be profitable to thee. So He commanded His man to light the candle,[35] and bid Christian follow Him: so He had him into a private room, and bid His man open a door; the which when he had done, Christian saw the picture of a very grave person hang up against the wall; and this was the fashion of it. It had eyes lifted up to Heaven, the best of books in his hand, the law of truth was written upon his lips, the world was behind his back. It stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did hang over its head.[36]

CHR. Then said Christian, What meaneth this?

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

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

CHR. Then said Christian, What means this?

INTER. The Interpreter answered, This parlour is the heart of a man that was never sanctified by the sweet grace of the Gospel; the dust is his original sin and inward corruptions, that have defiled the whole man. He that began to sweep at first, is the Law; but she that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now, whereas thou sawest, that so soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about that the room by him could not be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked therewith; this is to show thee, that the law, instead of cleansing the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, put strength into, and increase it in the soul, even as it doth discover and forbid it, for it doth not give power to subdue[37] (Ro 7:6; 1Co 15:56; Ro 5:20).

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

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

Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a bag of treasure, and poured it down at his feet, the which he took up and rejoiced therein, and withal laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but a while, and he had lavished all away, and had nothing left him but rags.

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

INTER. So He said, These two lads are figures: Passion, of the men of this world; and Patience, of the men of that which is to come; for, as here thou seest, Passion will have all now this year, that is to say, in this world; so are the men of this world: they must have all their good things now, they cannot stay till next year, that is, until the next world, for their portion of good. That proverb, "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," is of more authority with them than are all the Divine testimonies of the good of the world to come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly lavished all away, and had presently left him nothing but rags; so will it be with all such men at the end of this world . [38]

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

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

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

INTER. You say the truth: "For the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal" (2Co 4:18). But though this be so, yet since things present, and our fleshly appetite, are such near neighbours one to another; and again, because things to come, and carnal sense, are such strangers one to another; therefore it is that the first of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so continued between the second. Then I saw in my dream that the Interpreter took Christian by the hand, and led him into a place where was a fire burning against a wall, and one standing by it, always casting much water upon it, to quench it; yet did the fire burn higher and hotter.

Then said Christian, What means this?

The Interpreter answered, This fire is the work of grace that is wrought in the heart; he that casts water upon it, to extinguish and put it out, is the Devil; but in that thou seest the fire notwithstanding burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of that. So he had him about to the backside of the wall, where be saw a man with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the which He did also continually cast, but secretly, into the fire.[39]

Then said Christian, What means this?

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

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

Then said Christian, May we go in thither?

Then the Interpreter took him, and led him up towards the door of the palace; and behold, at the door stood a great company of men, as desirous to go in, but durst not. There also sat a man at a little distance from the door, at a table-side, with a book and his inkhorn before him, to take the name of him that should enter therein; he saw also, that in the doorway stood many men in armour to keep it, being resolved to do the men that would enter what hurt and mischief they could. Now was Christian somewhat in amaze. At last, when every man started back for fear of the armed men, Christian saw a man of a very stout countenance come up to the man that sat there to write, saying, "Set down my name, Sir":[40] the which when he had done, he saw the man draw his sword, and put an helmet upon his head, and rush toward the door upon the armed men, who laid upon him with deadly force: but the man, not at all discouraged, fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. So after he had received and given many wounds to those that attempted to keep him out, he cut his way through them all (Ac 14:22), and pressed forward into the palace, at which there was a pleasant voice heard from those that were within, even of those that walked upon the top of the palace, saying- "Come in, come in; Eternal glory thou shalt win."

So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as they. Then Christian smiled and said, I think verily I know the meaning of this.[41]

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

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

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

CHR. What wast thou once?

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

CHR. Well, but what art thou now?

MAN. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in it, as in this iron cage. I cannot get out. 0 now I cannot!

CHR. But how camest thou in this condition?

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

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

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

MAN. No, none at all.

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

MAN. I have crucified Him to myself afresh (Heb 4:6); I have despised His person (Lu 19:14); I have despised His righteousness; I have "counted His blood an unholy thing"; I have "done despite to the Spirit of grace" (Heb 10:28-29). Therefore I have shut myself out of all the promises, and there now remains to me nothing but threatenings, dreadful threatenings, fearful threatenings of certain judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour me as an adversary.[42]

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

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

INTER. But canst thou not now repent and turn?

MAN. God hath denied me repentance. His Word gives me no encouragement to believe; yea, Himself hath shut me up in this iron cage; nor can all the men in the world let me out. 0 eternity! eternity! how shall I grapple with the misery that I must meet with in eternity!

INTER. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let this man's misery be remembered by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee.[43]

CHR. Well, said Christian, this is fearful! God help me to watch and be sober, and to pray that I may shun the cause of this man's misery![44] Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way now?[45]

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

So He took Christian by the hand again, and led him into a chamber, where there was one rising out of bed; and as he put on his raiment, he shook and trembled. Then said Christian, Why doth this man thus tremble? The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian the reason of his so doing. So he began and said, This night, as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and behold the heavens grew exceeding black; also it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony; so I looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack[46] at an unusual rate, upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a man sit upon a cloud, attended with the thousands of Heaven; they were all in flaming fire: also the heavens were in a burning flame. I heard then a voice saying, "Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment"; and with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead that were therein came forth. Some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward; and some sought to hide themselves under the mountains (1Co 15:52; 1Th 4:16; Jude 14; Joh 5:28-29; 2Th 1:7-8; Re 20:11-14; Isa 26:21; Mic 7:16-17; Ps 95:1-3; Da 7:10). Then I saw the man that sat upon the cloud open the book, and bid the world draw near. Yet there was, by reason of a fierce flame which issued out and came from before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and them, as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar (Mal 3:2-3; Da 7:9-10). I heard it also proclaimed to them that attended on the man that sat on the cloud, "Gather together the tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast them into the burning lake" (Mt 3:12; 13:30; Mal 4:1). And with that, the bottomless pit opened, just whereabouts I stood; out of the mouth of which there came, in an abundant manner, smoke and coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was also said to the same persons, "Gather My wheat into the garner" (Lu 3:17). And with that I saw many catched up and carried away into the clouds, but I was left behind (1Th 4:16-17). I also sought to hide myself, but I could not, for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept his eye upon me: my sins also came into my mind; and my conscience did accuse me on every side (Ro 2:14-15). Upon this I awaked from my sleep.

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

MAN. Why, I thought that the day of judgment was come, and that I was not ready for it: but this frighted me most, that the angels gathered up several, and left me behind; also the pit of hell opened her mouth just where I stood. My conscience, too, afflicted me; and, as I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon me, showing indignation in his countenance.[47]

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

CHR. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear[48]

INTER. Well, keep all things so in thy mind that they may be as a goad in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the way thou must go. Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey. Then said the Interpreter, The Comforter be always with thee, good Christian, to guide thee in the way that leads to the City. So Christian went on his way, saying- "Here I have seen things rare and profitable; Things pleasant, dreadful, things to make me stable in what I have begun to take in hand; Then let me think on them, and understand Wherefore they showed me were, and let me be Thankful, 0 good Interpreter, to thee."

Now I saw in my dream, that the highway up which Christian was to go, was fenced on either side with a wall, and that wall was called Salvation (Isa 26:1). Up this way, therefore, did burdened Christian run, but not without great difficulty, because of the load on his back.[49]

He ran thus till be came at a place somewhat ascending, and upon that place stood a cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just as Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to do, till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more.

Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said, with a merry heart, "He hath given me rest by His sorrow, and life by His death." Then he stood still awhile to look and wonder; for it was very surprising to him, that the sight of the cross should thus ease him of his burden. He looked, therefore, and looked again, even till the springs that were in his head sent the waters down his checks (Zec 12:10)[50] Now, as he stood looking and weeping, behold three Shining Ones came to him and saluted him with "Peace be to thee." So the first said to him, "Thy sins be forgiven thee" (Mr 2:15): the second stripped him of his rags, and clothed him "with change of raiment" (Zec 3:4); the third also set a mark in his forehead, and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which he bade him look on as he ran, and that he should give it in at the Celestial Gate (Eph 1:13).[51] So they went their way. Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on singing- Thus far I did come laden with my sin; Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in Till I came hither: What a place is this! Must here be the beginning of my bliss? Must here the burden fall from off my back Must here the strings that bound it to me crack? Blest cross! blest sepulchre! blest rather be The man that there was put to shame for me![52]

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

Christian then seeing them lie in this case, went to them, if peradventure he might awake them, and cried, You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast, for the Dead Sea is under you-a gulf that hath no bottom (Pr 23:34). Awake, therefore, and come away; be willing also, and I will help you off with your irons. He also told them, If he that "goeth about like a roaring lion" comes by, you will certainly become a prey to his teeth (1Pe 5:8). With that they looked upon him, and began to reply in this sort: Simple said, "I see no danger"; Sloth said, "Yet a little more sleep"; and Presumption said, "Every fat[53] must stand upon its own bottom; what is the answer else that I should give thee?" And so they lay down to sleep again, and Christian went on his way.

Yet was he troubled to think that men in that danger should so little esteem the kindness of him that so freely offered to help them, both by awakening of them, counseling of them, and proffering to help them off with their irons.[54] And as he was troubled thereabout, he espied two men come tumbling over the wall, on the left hand of the narrow way; and they made up apace to him. The name of the one was Formalist, and the name of the other Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew up unto him, who thus entered with them into discourse.

CHR. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither go you?

FORM. and HYP. We were born in the land of Vain-glory, and are going for praise to Mount Sion.

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

FORM. and HYP. They said, That to go to the gate for entrance was, by all their countrymen, counted too far about; and that, therefore, their usual way was to make a short cut of it, and to climb over the wall, as they had done.

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

FORM. and HYP. They told him, that, as for that, he needed not to trouble his head thereabout; for what they did, they had custom for; and could produce, if need were, testimony that would witness it for more than a thousand years.

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

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

CHR. I walk by the rule of my Master; you walk by the rude working of your fancies. You are counted thieves already, by the Lord of the way; therefore, I doubt you will not be found true men at the end of the way. You come in by yourselves, without His direction; and shall go out by yourselves, without His me rcy. [55]

To this they made him but little answer; only they bid him look to himself. Then I saw that they went on every man in his way, without much conference one with another; save that these two men told Christian, that as to laws and ordinances, they doubted not but they should as conscientiously do them as he; therefore, said they, we see not wherein thou differest from us, but by the coat that is on thy back, which was, as we trow[56] given thee by some of thy neighbours, to hide the shame of thy nakedness.

CHR. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved, since you came not in by the door (Ga 1:16). And as for this coat that is on my back, it was given me by the Lord of the place whither I go; and that, as you say, to cover my nakedness with. And I take it as a token of His kindness to me; for I had nothing but rags before. And, besides, thus I comfort myself as I go: Surely, think I, when I come to the gate of the city, the Lord thereof will know me for good, since I have His coat on my back-a coat that He gave me in the day that He stripped me of my rags. I have, moreover, a mark in my forehead, of which, perhaps, you have taken no notice, which one of my Lord's most intimate associates fixed there in the day that my burden fell off my shoulders. I will tell you, moreover, that I had then given me a roll, sealed, to comfort me by reading, as I go on the way; I was also bid to give it in at the Celestial Gate, in token of my certain going in after it; all which things, I doubt, you want, and want them because you came not in at the gate.

To these things they gave him no answer; only they looked upon each other, and laughed.[57] Then I saw that they went on all, save that Christian kept before, who had no more talk but with himself, and that sometimes sighingly and sometimes comfortably;[58] also he would be often reading in the roll that one of the Shining Ones gave him, by which he was refreshed.

I beheld, then, that they all went on till they came to the foot of the Hill Difficulty; at the bottom of which was a spring. There were also in the same place two other ways besides that which came straight from the gate; one turned to the left hand, and the other to the right, at the bottom of the hill; but the narrow way lay right up the hill, and the name of the going up the side of the hill is called Difficulty. Christian now went to the spring, and drank thereof, to refresh himself (Isa 49:10), and then began to go up the hill, saying-

"The hill, though high, I covet to ascend, The difficulty will not me offend; For I perceive the way to life lies here. Come, pluck up heart, let's neither faint nor fear; Better, though difficult, the right way to go, Than wrong, though easy, where the end is Woe."

The other two also came to the foot of the hill; but when they saw that the hill was steep and high, and that there were two other ways to go; and supposing also that these two ways might meet again, with that up which Christian went, on the other side of the hill; therefore they were resolved to go in those ways. Now the name of one of those ways was Danger, and the name of the other Destruction. So the one took the way which is called Danger, which led him into a great wood, and the other took directly up the way to Destruction, which led him into a wide field, full of dark mountains, where he stumbled and fell, and rose no more.[59]

I looked, then, after Christian, to see him go up the hill, where I perceived he fell from running to going, and from going to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place. Now, about the midway to the top of the hill was a pleasant arbour, made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshing of weary travelers; thither, therefore, Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him. Then he pulled his roll out of his bosom, and read therein to his comfort; he also now began afresh to take a review of the coat or garment that was given him as he stood by the cross. Thus pleasing himself awhile, he at last fell into a slumber, and thence into a fast sleep,[60] which detained him in that place until it was almost night; and in his sleep his roll fell out of his hand.[61] Now, as he was sleeping, there came one to him, and awaked him, saying, "Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise" (Pr 6:6). And with that Christian suddenly started up, and sped him on his way, and went apace, till be came to the top of the hill.

Now, when he was got up to the top of the hill, there came two men running to meet him amain; the name of the one was Timorous, and of the other Mistrust; to whom Christian said, Sirs, what's the matter? You run the wrong way. Timorous answered, that they were going to the City of Zion, and had got up that difficult place; but, said he, the further we go, the more danger we meet with; wherefore we turned, and are going back again.[62]

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

CHR. Then said Christian, You make me afraid, but whither shall I fly to be safe? If I go back to mine own country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone, and I shall certainly perish there. If I can get to the Celestial City, I am sure to be in safety there. I must venture. To go back is nothing but death; to go forward is fear of death, and life everlasting beyond it. I will yet go forward.[63] So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on his way. But, thinking again of what he heard from the men, be felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read therein, and be comforted; but he felt, and found it not. Then was Christian in great distress, and knew not what to do; for he wanted that which used to relieve him, and that which should have been his pass into the Celestial City. Here, therefore, he began to be much perplexed, and knew not what to do.[64] At last, he bethought himself, that he had slept in the arbour that is on the side of the hill; and, falling down upon his knees, he asked God's forgiveness for that his foolish act, and then went back to look for his roll. But all the way he went back, who can sufficiently set forth the sorrow of Christian's heart! Sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he chid himself for being so foolish to fall asleep in that place, which was erected only for a little refreshment for his weariness. Thus therefore he went back, carefully looking on this side, and on that, all the way as he went, if happily he might find his roll, that had been his comfort so many times in his journey. He went thus, till he came again within sight of the arbour where he sat and slept; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more, by bringing again, even afresh, his evil of sleeping into his mind (Re 2:5; 1Th 5:7-8). Thus, therefore, he now went on bewailing his sinful sleep, saying, "0 wretched man that I am!" that I should sleep in the day time! that I should sleep in the midst of difficulty! that I should so indulge the flesh, as to use that rest for ease to my flesh, which the Lord of the hill hath erected only for the relief of the spirits of pilgrims![65]

How many steps have I took in vain! Thus it happened to Israel, for their sin; they were sent back again by the way of the Red Sea; and I am made to tread those steps with sorrow, which I might have trod with delight, had it not been for this sinful sleep. How far might I have been on my way by this time! I am made to tread those steps thrice over, which I needed not to have trod but once; yea, now also I am like to be benighted, for the day is almost spent. 0 that I had not slept!

Now by this time be was come to the arbour again, where for a while he sat down and wept; but at last, as Christian would have it, looking sorrowfully down under the settle, there he espied his roll; the which he, with trembling and haste, catched up, and put it into his bosom. But who can tell how joyful this man was when he had gotten his roll again! for this roll was the assurance of his life and acceptance at the desired haven. Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, gave thanks to God for directing his eye to the place where it lay, and with joy and tears betook himself again to his journey. But 0 how nimbly now did he go up the rest of the hill! Yet, before be got up, the sun went down upon Christian; and this made him again recall the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance; and thus he again began to condole with himself. 0 thou sinful sleep! how, for thy sake am I like to be benighted in my journey! I must walk without the sun; darkness must cover the path of my feet; and I must hear the noise of the doleful creatures, because of my sinful sleep (1Th 5:6-7). Now also he remembered the story that Mistrust and Timorous told him of, how they were frighted with the sight of the lions. Then said Christian to himself again, These beasts range in the night for their prey; and if they should meet with me in the dark, how should I shift them? How should I escape being by them torn in pieces? Thus he went on his way. But while he was thus bewailing his unhappy miscarriage, he lift up his eyes, and behold there was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was Beautiful; and it stood just by the highway side.[66]

So I saw in my dream, that he made haste and went forward, that if possible he might get lodging there. Now before he had gone far, be entered into a very narrow passage, which was about a furlong off of the porter's lodge; and looking very narrowly before him as he went, he espied two lions in the way.[67] Now, thought he, I see the dangers that Mistrust and Timorous were driven back by. (The lions were chained, but he saw not the chains). Then he was afraid, and thought also himself to go back after them, for he thought nothing but death was before him. But the porter at the lodge, whose name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian made a halt as if he would go back, cried unto him, saying, Is thy strength so small? (Mr 13:377). Fear not the lions, for they are chained, and are placed there for trial of faith where it is, and for discovery of those that have none. Keep in the midst of the path, and no hurt shall come unto thee.

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

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

POR. What is your name?

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

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

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

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

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

Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he was going; and he told her. She asked him also how he got into the way; and he told her. Then she asked him what he had seen and met with in the way; and he told her. And last she asked his name; so he said, It is Christian, and I have so much the more a desire to lodge here tonight, because, by what I perceive, this place was built by the Lord of the hill, for the relief and security of pilgrims. So she smiled, but the water stood in her eyes; and after a little pause, she said, I will call forth two or three more of the family. So she ran to the door, and called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who, after a little more discourse with him, had him into the family; and many of them meeting him at the threshold of the house, said, "Come in, thou blessed of the Lord"; this house was built by the Lord of the hill, on purpose to entertain such pilgrims in.[68] Then he bowed his head, and followed them into the house. So when he was come in and sat down, they gave him something to drink, and consented together, that until supper was ready, some of them should have some particular discourse with Christian, for the best improvement of time; and they appointed Piety, and Prudence, and Charity to discourse with him; and thus they began:

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

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

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

CHR. I was driven out of my native country, by a dreadful sound that was in mine ears; to wit, that unavoidable destruction did attend me, if I abode in that country place where I was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PIETY. And what saw you else in the way?

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

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

CHR. The things that I have told you were the best, yet some other matters I saw, as, namely, I saw three men, Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep a little out of the way, as I came, with irons upon their heels; but do you think I could awake them? I also saw Formality and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to go, as they pretended, to Zion, but they were quickly lost, even as I myself did tell them; but they would not believe. But above all, I found it hard work to get up this hill, and as hard to come by the lions' mouths; and truly if it had not been for the good man, the porter that stands at the gate, I do not know but that after all I might have gone back again; but now, I thank God I am here, and I thank you for receiving of me.

Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, and desired his answer to them.

PRUD. Do you not think sometimes of the country from whence you came?

CHR. Yes, but with much shame and detestation: "truly if I had been mindful of that country from whence I came out, I might have had opportunity to have returned; but now I desire a better country, that is, an heavenly" (Heb 11:15-16).

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

CHR. Yes, but greatly against my will; especially my inward and carnal cogitations, with which all my countrymen, as well as myself, were delighted; but now all those things are my grief; and might I but choose mine own things, I would choose never to think of those things more; but when I would be doing of that which is best, that which is worst is with me (Ro 7).

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

CHR. Yes, but that is but seldom; but they are to me golden hours, in which such things happen to me.[69]

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

CHR. Yes; when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it; and when I look upon my broidered coat, that will do it; also when I look into the roll that I carry in my bosom, that will do it; and when my thoughts wax warm about whither I am going, that will do it. [70]

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

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

Then said Charity to Christian, Have you a family? Are you a married man?

CHR. I have a wife and four small children.[71]

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

CHR. Then Christian wept, and said, 0 how willingly would I have done it! but they were all of them utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage.

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

CHR. So I did; and told them also what God had shown to me of the destruction of our city; "but I seemed to them as one that mocked," and they believed me not (Ge 19:14).

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

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

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

CHR. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also see my fears in my countenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling under the apprehension of the judgment that did hang over our heads; but all was not sufficient to prevail with them to come with me.

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

CHR. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, and my children were given to the foolish delights of youth; so what by one thing, and what by another, they left me to wander in this manner alone.

CHAR. But did you not, with your vain life, damp all that you by words used by way of persuasion to bring them away with you?[72]

CHR. Indeed, I cannot commend my life; for I am conscious to myself of many failings therein; I know also, that a man by his conversation may soon overthrow, what by argument or persuasion he doth labour to fasten upon others for their good. Yet this I can say, I was very wary of giving them occasion, by any unseemly action, to make them averse to going on pilgrimage.[73] Yea, for this very thing, they would tell me I was too precise, and that I denied myself of things, for their sakes, in which they saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say, that if what they saw in me did hinder them, it was my great tenderness in sinning against God, or of doing any wrong to my neighbour.

CHAR. Indeed Cain hated his brother, "because his own works were evil, and his brother's righteous" (1Jo 3:12); and if thy wife and children have been offended with thee for this, they thereby show themselves to be implacable to good, and "thou hast delivered thy soul from their blood" (Eze 3:19).

Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking together until supper was ready.[74] So when they had made ready, they sat down to meat. Now the table was furnished "with fat things, and with wine that was well refined": and all their talk at the table was about the Lord of the hill; as, namely, about what He had done, and wherefore He did what He did, and why He had builded that house. And by what they said, I perceived that He had been a great warrior, and had fought with and slain "him that had the power of death," but not without great danger to Himself, which made me love Him the more[75] (Heb 2:14-15).

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

They, moreover, gave an instance of what they affirmed, and that was, He had stripped Himself of His glory, that He might do this for the poor; and that they heard Him say and affirm, "that He would not dwell in the mountain of Zion alone." They said, moreover, that He had made many pilgrims princes, though by nature they were beggars born, and their original had been the dunghill (1Sa 2:8; Ps 113:7).

Thus they discoursed together till late at night; and after they had committed themselves to their Lord for protection, they betook themselves to rest: the Pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened toward the sun-rising; the name of the chamber was Peace;[76] where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke and sang[77]-

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

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

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

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

The next day they took him and had him into the armoury, where they showed him all manner of furniture, which their Lord had provided for pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, all-prayer, and shoes that would not wear out.[78] And there was here enough of this to harness out as many men, for the service of their Lord, as there be stars in the Heaven for multitude.[79]

They also showed him some of the engines with which some of his servants had done wonderful things. They showed him Moses' rod; the hammer and nail with which Jael slew Sisera; the pitchers, trumpets, and lamps too, with which Gibeon put to flight the armies of Midian. Then they showed him the ox's goad wherewith Shamgar slew 600 men. They showed him, also, the jawbone with which Samson did such mighty feats. They showed him, moreover, the sling and stone with which David slew Goliath of Gath; and the sword, also, with which their Lord will kill the Man of Sin, in the day that he shall rise up to the prey. They showed him, besides, many excellent things, with which Christian was much delighted. This done, they went to their rest again.[80]

Then I saw in my dream, that, on the morrow, he got up to go forward; but they desired him to stay till the next day also; and then, said they, we will, if the day be clear, show you the Delectable Mountains,[81] which, they said, would yet further add to his comfort, because they were nearer the desired haven than the place where at present he was; so he consented and staid. When the morning was up, they had him to the top of the house, and bid him look south; so he did; and, behold, at a great distance, he saw a most pleasant mountainous country, beautified with woods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very delectable to behold (Isa 33:16-17). Then he asked the name of the country. They said it was Immanuel's Land; and it is as common, said they, as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest there, from thence, said they, thou mayest see to the gate of the Celestial City, as the shepherds that live there will make appear.

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

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

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

CHR. 0, said Christian, I know him; he is my townsman, my near neighbour; he comes from the place where I was born. How far do you think he may be before?

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

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

Then he began to go forward; but Discretion, Piety, Charity, and Prudence, would accompany him down to the foot of the hill. So they went on together, reiterating their former discourses, till they came to go down the hill. Then, said Christian, as it was difficult coming up, so, so far as I can see, it is dangerous going down. Yes, said Prudence, so it is, for it is a hard matter for a man to go down into the Valley of Humiliation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way; therefore, said they, are we come out to accompany thee down the hill. So he began to go down, but very warily; yet he caught a slip or two.[82] Then I saw in my dream that these good companions, when Christian was gone to the bottom of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of raisins; and then he went on his way.

But now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was hard put to it; for he had gone but a little way, before he espied a foul fiend coming over the field to meet him; his name is Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go back or to stand his ground. But he considered again that he had no armour for his back; and, therefore, thought that to turn the back to him might give him the greater advantage, with ease to pierce him with his darts.[83] Therefore he resolved to venture and stand his ground; for, thought he, had I no more in mine eye than the saving of my life, it would be the best way to stand.

So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the monster was hideous to behold; he was clothed with scales, like a fish (and they are his pride), he had wings like a dragon, feet like a bear, and out of his belly came fire and smoke, and his mouth was as the mouth of a lion.[84] When he was come up to Christian, he beheld him with a disdainful countenance, and thus began to question with him.

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

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

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

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

APOL. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects,[85] neither will I as yet lose thee; but since thou complainest of thy service and wages, be content to go back; what our country will afford, I do here promise to give thee.

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

APOL. Thou hast done in this according to the proverb, "Changed a bad for a worse"; but it is ordinary for those that have professed themselves His servants, after a while to give Him the slip, and return again to me. Do thou so too, and all shall be well.

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

APOL. Thou didst the same to me, and yet I am willing to pass by all, if now thou wilt yet turn again and go back.

CHR. What I promised thee was in my nonage;[86] and, besides, I count the Prince under whose banner now I stand is able to absolve me; yea, and to pardon also what I did as to my compliance with thee; and besides, 0 thou destroying Apollyon! to speak truth, I like His service, His wages, His servants, His government, His company, and country, better than thine; and, therefore, leave off to persuade me further; I am His servant, and I will follow Him.

APOL. Consider again, when thou art in cool blood, what thou art like to meet with in the way that thou goest. Thou knowest that, for the most part, His servants come to an ill end, because they are transgressors against me and my ways. How many of them have been put to shameful deaths! and, besides, thou countest His service better than mine, whereas He never came yet from the place where He is to deliver any that served Him out of their hands; but as for me, how many times, as all the world very well knows, have I delivered, either by power or fraud, those that have faithfully served me, from Him and His, though taken by them; and so I will deliver thee.

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

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

CHR. Wherein, 0 Apollyon! have I been unfaithful to Him?

APOL. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast almost choked in the Gulf of Despond; thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy burden, whereas against thou shouldest have stayed till thy Prince had taken it off; thou didst sinfully sleep, and lose thy choice thing; thou wast, also, almost persuaded to go back, at the sight of the lions; and when thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou hast heard and seen, thou art inwardly desirous of vainglory in all that thou sayest or doest. [87]

CHR. All this is true, and much more which thou has left out; but the Prince, whom I serve and honour, is merciful, and ready to forgive; but, besides, these infirmities possessed me in thy country, for there I sucked them in; and I have groaned under them, been sorry for them, and have obtained pardon of my Prince.[88]

APOL. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, I am an enemy to this Prince; I hate His person, His laws, and people; I am come out on purpose to withstand thee.

CHR. Apollyon, beware what you do; for I am in the king's highway, the way of holiness; therefore take heed to yourself.

APOL. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way, and said, I am void of fear in this matter: prepare thyself to die; for I swear by my infernal den, that thou shalt go no further; here will I spill thy soul.

And with that he threw a flaming dart at his breast;[89] but Christian had a shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so prevented the danger of that.

Then did Christian draw; for he saw it was time to bestir him: and Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail; by the which, notwithstanding all that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand, and foot. This made Christian give a little back; Apollyon, therefore, followed his work amain, and Christian again took courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. This sore combat lasted for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite spent; for you must know, that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker.

Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up close to Christian, and wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall; and with that, Christian's sword flew out of his hand. Then said Apollyon, I am sure of thee now.[90] And with that he had almost pressed him to death; so that Christian began to despair of life: but as God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching of his last blow, thereby to make a full end of this good man, Christian nimbly stretched out his hand for his sword, and caught it, saying, "Rejoice not against me, 0 mine enemy: when I fall, I shall arise" (Mic 7:8); and with that gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give back, as one that had received his mortal wound. Christian perceiving that, made at him again, saying, "Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors, through Him that loved us" (Ro 8:37). And with that Apollyon spread forth his dragon's wings, and sped him away, that Christian for a season[91] saw him no more[92] (Jas 4:7).

In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard as I did, what yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the time of the fight-he spake like a dragon; and, on the other side, what sighs and groans burst from Christian's heart. I never saw him all the while give so much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword; then, indeed, he did smile, and look upward; but it was the most dreadful sight that ever I saw.[93]

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

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

Then there came to him a hand, with some of the leaves of the tree of life, the which Christian took, and applied to the wounds that he had received in the battle, and was healed immediately.[94] He also sat down in that place to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that was given him a little before; so being refreshed, he addressed himself to his journey, with his sword drawn in his hand; for he said, I know not but some other enemy may be at hand. But he met with no other affront from Apollyon quite through this valley.

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

Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his fight with Apollyon; as by the sequel you shall see.[95]

I saw then in my dream, that when Christian was got to the borders of the Shadow of Death, there met him two men, children of them that brought up an evil report of the good land (Nu 13), making haste to go back; to whom Christian spake as follows-

CHR. Whither are you going?

MEN. They said, Back! back! and we would have you to do so too, if either life or peace is prized by you.

CHR. Why? what's the matter? said Christian.

MEN. Matter! said they; we were going that way as you are going, and went as far as we durst; and indeed we were almost past coming back; for had we gone a little further, we had not been here to bring the news to thee.

CHR. But what have you met with? said Christian.

MEN. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of Death; but that, by good hap, we looked before us, and saw the danger before we came to it (Ps 44:19; 107:10).

CHR. But what have you seen? said Christian.

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

CHR. Then said Christian, I perceive not yet, by what you have said, but that this is my way to the desired haven[96] (Jer 2:6).

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

I saw then in my dream so far as this valley reached, there was on the right hand a very deep ditch: that ditch is it into which the blind have led the blind in all ages, and have both there miserably perished[97] (Ps 69:14-15). Again, behold, on the left hand, there was a very dangerous quag, into which, if even a good man falls, he can find no bottom for his foot to stand on. Into that quag king David once did fall, and had no doubt therein been smothered, had not HE that is able plucked him out.

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

About the midst of this valley, I perceived the mouth of hell to be, and it stood also hard by the wayside. Now, thought Christian, what shall I do? And ever and anon the flame and smoke would come out in such abundance, with sparks and hideous noises (things that cared not for Christian's sword, as did Apollyon before), that he was forced to put up his sword, and betake himself to another weapon, called All-prayer (Eph 4:18). So he cried in my hearing, "0 Lord, I beseech Thee, deliver my soul!" (Ps 116:4). Thus he went on a great while, yet still the flames would be reaching towards him.[98] Also be heard doleful voices, and rushings to and fro, so that sometimes he thought he should be torn in pieces, or trodden down like mire in the streets. This frightful sight was seen, and these dreadful noises were heard by him for several miles together. And, coming to a place, where be thought he heard a company of fiends coming forward to meet him, he stopped and began to muse what he had best to do. Sometimes he had half a thought to go back; then again he thought he might be half way through the valley; he remembered also how be had already vanquished many a danger, and that the danger of going back might be much more than for to go forward; so he resolved to go on. Yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer; but when they were come even almost at him, he cried out with a most vehement voice, "I will walk in the strength of the Lord God"; so they gave back, and came no further.

One thing I would not let slip; I took notice that now poor Christian was so confounded, that he did not know his own voice; and thus I perceived it. Just when he was come over against the mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked ones got behind him, and stept up softly to him, and, whisperingly, suggested many grievous blasphemies to him, which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. This put Christian more to it than anything that he met with before; even to think that he should now blaspheme Him that he loved so much before; yet, if he could have helped it, he would not have done it; but he had not the discretion either to stop his ears, or to know from whence these blasphemies came.[99]

When Christian had traveled in this disconsolate condition some considerable time, he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going before him, saying, "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me" (Ps 23:4)[100]

Then he was glad, and that for these reasons:

First, Because he gathered from thence, that some who feared God, were in this valley as well as himself.

Secondly, For that he perceived God was with them, though in that dark and dismal state; and why not, thought he, with me? though, by reason of the impediment that attends this place, I cannot perceive it (Job 9:11).

Thirdly, For that he hoped, could he overtake them, to have company by and by. So he went on, and called to him that was before; but he knew not what to answer; for that he also thought himself to be alone. And by and by the day broke; then said Christian, He hath turned "the shadow of death into the morning" (Am 5:8)[101]

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

Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance from all the dangers of his solitary way; which dangers, though he feared them more before, yet he saw them more clearly now, because the light of the day made them conspicuous to him. And about this time the sun was rising, and this was another mercy to Christian; for you must note, that though the first part of the Valley of the Shadow of Death was dangerous, yet this second part which he was yet to go, was, if possible, far more dangerous:[102] for from the place where he now stood, even to the end of the valley, the way was all along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and shelvings down there, that had it now been dark, as it were when he came the first part of the way, had he had a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast away;[103] but, as I said, just now the sun was rising. Then said he, "His candle shineth upon my head, and by His light I walk through darkness" (Job 29:3).

In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the valley. Now I saw in my dream, that at the end of this valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of men, even of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly; and while I was musing what should be the reason, I espied a little before me a cave, where two giants, POPE and PAGAN, dwelt in old time; by whose power and tyranny the men whose bones, blood, ashes, &c., lay there, were cruelly put to death.[104] But by this place Christian went without much danger, whereat I somewhat wondered; but I have learnt since, that PAGAN has been dead many a day; and as for the other, though he be yet alive, he is, by reason of age, and also of the many shrewd brushes that he met with in his younger days, grown so crazy and stiff in his joints, that he can now do little more than sit in his cave's mouth, grinning at pilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails because he cannot come at them.[105]

So I saw that Christian went on his way; yet, at the sight of the Old Man that sat in the mouth of the cave, he could not tell what to think, especially because he spake to him, though he could not go after him; saying, "You will never mend, till more of you be burned." But he held his peace, and set a good face on it, and so went by and catched no hurt.[106] Then sang Christian,

0 world of wonders! (I can say no less) That I should be preserv'd in that distress That I have met with here! 0 blessed be That hand that from it hath deliverd me! Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin, Did compass me, while I this vale was in: Yea, snares and pits, and traps, and nets, did lie My path about, that worthless, silly I Might have been catch'd, entangled, and cast down; But since I live, let JESUS wear the crown.

Now, as Christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent, which was cast up on purpose, that pilgrims might see before them. Up there, therefore, Christian went; and looking forward, he saw Faithful before him, upon his journey. Then said Christian aloud, "Ho! ho! Soho! stay, and I will be your companion."[107] At that, Faithful looked behind him; to whom Christian cried again, "Stay, stay, till I come up to you." But Faithful answered, "No, I am upon my life, and the avenger of blood is behind me."

At this, Christian was somewhat moved, and putting to all his strength, he quickly takes got up with Faithful, and did also overrun him; so the last was first. Then did Christian vain-gloriously smile, because he had gotten the start of his brother;[108] but not taking good heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not rise again, until Faithful came up to help him.

Then I saw in my dream, they went very lovingly on together, and had sweet discourse of all things that had happened to them in their pilgrimage; and thus Christian began.

CHR. My honoured and well-beloved brother, Faithful, I am glad that I have overtaken you; and that God has so tempered our spirits, that we can walk as companions in this so pleasant a path.

FAITH. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your company quite from our town; but you did get the start of me, wherefore I was forced to come thus much of the way alone.

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

FAITH. Till I could stay no longer; for there was great talk presently after you were gone out, that our city would, in short time, with fire from Heaven, be burned down to the ground.

CHR. What! did your neighbours talk so?

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

CHR. What! and did no more of them but you come out to escape the danger?

FAITH. Though there were, as I said, a great talk thereabout, yet I do not think they did firmly believe it. For in the heat of the discourse, I heard some of them deridingly speak of you, and of your desperate journey (for so they called this your pilgrimage), but I did believe, and do still, that the end of our city will be with fire and brimstone from above; and therefore I have made my escape.

CHR. Did you hear no talk of neighbour Pliable?

FAITH. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed you till he came at the Slough of Despond, where, as some said, he fell in; but he would not be known to have so done; but I am sure he was soundly bedabbled with that kind of dirt.

CHR. And what said the neighbours to him?

FAITH. He hath, since his going back, been had greatly in derision, and that among all sorts of people; some do mock and despise him; and scarce will any set him on work. He is now seven times worse than if he had never gone out of the City.[109]

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

FAITH. 0! they say, Hang him, he is a turn-coat; he was not true to his profession. I think God has stirred up even his enemies to hiss at him, and make him a proverb, because he hath forsaken the way (Jer 29:18-19).

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

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

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

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

CHR. Well, neighbour Faithful, said Christian, let us leave him, and talk of things that more immediately concern ourselves. Tell me now, what you have met with in the way as you came; for I know you have met with some things, or else it may be writ for a wonder.

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

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

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

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

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

CHR. Thank God you have escaped her; "the abhorred of the Lord shall fall into her ditch" (Pr 22:14).

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

CHR. Why, I trow[110] you did not consent to her desires?

FAITH. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered an old writing that I had seen, which said, "Her steps take hold on hell" (Pr 5:5). So I shut mine eyes, because I would not be bewitched with her looks (Job 31:1). Then she railed on me, and I went my way.[111]

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

FAITH. When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty, I met with a very aged man, who asked me what I was, and whither bound. I told him that I am a pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said the old man, Thou lookest like an honest fellow; wilt thou be content to dwell with me for the wages that I shall give thee? Then I asked him his name, and where he dwelt. He said his name was Adam the First, and that he dwelt in the town of Deceit (Eph 4:22). I asked him then, what was his work, and what the wages that he would give. He told me, that his work was many delights; and his wages, that I should be his heir at last. I further asked him, what house he kept, and what other servants he had. So he told me, that his house was maintained with all the dainties in the world; and that his servants were those of his own begetting. Then I asked if he had any children. He said that he had but three daughters; the Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride of Life, and that I should marry them all[112] if I would (1Jo 2:16). Then I asked how long time he would have me live with him? And he told me, As long as he lived himself.

CHR. Well, and what conclusion came the old man and you to, at last?

FAITH. Why, at first, I found myself somewhat inclinable to go with the man, for I thought he spake very fair; but looking in his forehead, as I talked with him, I saw there written, "Put off the old man with his deeds."

CHR. And how then?

FAITH. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever he said, and however he flattered, when he got me home to his house, he would sell me for a slave.[113] So I bid him forbear to talk, for I would not come near the door of his house. Then he reviled me, and told me, that he would send such a one after me, that should make my way bitter to my soul. So I turned to go away from him; but just as I turned myself to go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly twitch back, that I thought he had pulled part of me after himself. This made me cry, "0 wretched man!" (Ro 7:24). So I went on my way up the hill.

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

CHR. Just there, said Christian, did I sit down to rest me; but being overcome with sleep, I there lost this roll out of my bosom

FAITH. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as the man overtook me, he was but a word and a blow, for down he knocked me, and laid me for dead.[114] But when I was a little come to myself again, I asked him wherefore he served me so. He said, because of my secret inclining to Adam the First: and with that he struck me another deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down backward; so I lay at his foot as dead as before. So, when I came to myself again, I cried him mercy; but he said, I know not how to show mercy; and with that knocked me down again.[115] He had doubtless made an end of me, but that One came by, and bid him forbear.

CHR. Who was that that bid him forbear.

FAITH. I did not know Him at first, but as He went by, I perceived the holes in His hands, and in His side; then I concluded that He was our Lord. So I went up the hill.

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

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

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

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

CHR. He told me indeed, that he saw you go by, but I wish you had called at the house, for they would have showed you so many rarities, that you would scarce have forgot them to the day of your death. But pray tell me, Did you meet nobody in the Valley of Humility?

FAITH. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would willingly have persuaded me to go back again with him; his reason was, for that the valley was altogether without honour. He told me, moreover, that there to go was the way to disobey all my friends, as Pride, Arrogancy, Self-conceit, Worldly-glory, with others, who, he knew, as he said, would be very much offended, if I made such a fool of myself as to wade through this valley.

CHR. Well, and how did you answer him?

FAITH. I told him that although all these that he named might claim kindred of me, and that rightly, for indeed they were my relations according to the flesh, yet since I became a pilgrim, they have disowned me, as I also have rejected them; and therefore they were to me now no more than if they had never been of my lineage.

I told him, moreover, that as to this valley he had quite misrepresented the thing; "for before honour is humility; and a haughty spirit before a fall." Therefore, said I, I had rather go through this valley to the honour that was so accounted by the wisest, than choose that which he esteemed most worthy our affections.

CHR. Met you with nothing else in that valley?

FAITH. Yes, I met with Shame; but of all the men that I met with in my pilgrimage, he, I think, bears the wrong name. The others would be said nay, after a little argumentation, and somewhat else; but this boldfaced Shame would never have done.[116]

CHR. Why, what did he say to you?

FAITH. What! why, he objected against religion itself; he said it was a pitiful, low, sneaking business for a man to mind religion; he said that a tender conscience was an unmanly thing; and that for a man to watch over his words and ways, so as to tie up himself from that hectoring liberty, that the brave spirits of the times accustom themselves unto, would make him the ridicule of the times. He objected also, that but few of the mighty, rich, or wise, were ever of my opinion (1Co 1:26; 3:18; Php 3:7-8); nor any of them neither (Joh 7:48), before they were persuaded to be fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness, to venture the loss of all, for nobody knows what. He moreover objected the base and low estate and condition of those that were chiefly the pilgrims, of the times in which they lived; also their ignorance, and want of understanding in all natural science. Yea, he did hold me to it at that rate also, about a great many more things than here I relate; as, that it was a shame to sit whining and mourning under a sermon, and a shame to come sighing and groaning home; that it was a shame to ask my neighbour forgiveness for petty faults, or to make restitution where I have taken from any. He said also, that religion made a man grow strange to the great, because of a few vices, which he called by finer names; and made him own and respect the base, because of the same religious fraternity. And is not this, said he, a shame?[117]

CHR. And what did you say to him?

FAITH. Say! I could not tell what to say at the first. Yea, he put me so to it, that my blood came up in my face; even this Shame fetched it up, and had almost beat me quite off. But, at last, I began to consider, that "that which is highly esteemed among men, is had in abomination with God" (Lu 16:15). And I thought again, this Shame tells me what men are; but it tells me nothing what God, or the Word of God is. And I thought, moreover, that at the day of doom, we shall not be doomed to death or life, according to the hectoring spirits of the world, but according to the wisdom and law of the Highest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is best, indeed is best, though all the men in the world are against it. Seeing, then, that God prefers His religion; seeing God prefers a tender conscience; seeing they that make themselves fools for the kingdom of Heaven are wisest; and that the poor man that loveth Christ is richer than the greatest man in the world that hates Him; Shame, depart, thou art an enemy to my salvation. Shall I entertain thee against my sovereign Lord? How then shall I look Him in the face at His coming? Should I now be ashamed of His ways and servants, how can I expect the blessing? (Mr 8:38). But, indeed, this Shame was a bold villain; I could scarce shake him out of my company; yea, he would be haunting of me, and continually whispering me in the ear, with some one or other of the infirmities that attend religion; but at last I told him it was but in vain to attempt further in this business; for those things that he disdained, in those did I see most glory; and so at last I got past this importunate one. And when I had shaken him off, then I began to sing-

The trials that those men do meet withal, That are obedient to the heavenly call, Are manifold, and suited to the flesh, And come, and come, and come again afresh; That now, or sometime else, we by them may Be taken, overcome, and cast away. 0 let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims, then, Be vigilant, and quit themselves like men.

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

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

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

FAITH. No, not I, for I had sunshine all the rest of the way through that, and also through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.[118]

CHR. It was well for you. I am sure it fared far otherwise with me; I had for a long season, as soon almost as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat with that foul fiend Apollyon; yea, I thought verily he would have killed me, especially when he got me down and crushed me under him, as if he would have crushed me to pieces; for as he threw me, my sword flew out of my hand; nay, he told me he was sure of me; but I cried to God, and He heard me, and delivered me out of all my troubles. Then I entered into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and had no light for almost half the way through it.[119] I thought I should have been killed there, over and over; but at last day broke, and the sun rose, and I went through that which was behind with far more ease and quiet.

Moreover, I saw in my dream, that as they went on, Faithful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw a man whose name is Talkative,[120] walking at a distance besides them; for in this place, there was room enough for them all to walk. He was a tall man, and something more comely at a distance than at hand. To this man Faithful addressed himself in this manner.

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

TALK. I am going to the same place.

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

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

FAITH. Come on, then, and let us go together, and let us spend our time in discoursing of things that are profitable.

TALK. To talk of things that are good, to me is very acceptable, with you, or with any other; and I am glad that I have met with those that incline to so good a work; for, to speak the truth, there are but few that care thus to spend their time (as they are in their travels), but choose much rather to be speaking of things to no profit; and this hath been a trouble to me.

FAITH. That is indeed a thing to be lamented; for what things so worthy of the use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth, as are the things of the God of Heaven?

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

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

TALK. That is it that I said; for to talk of such things is most profitable; for by so doing, a man may get knowledge of many things; as of the vanity of earthly things, and the benefit of things above. Thus, in general, but more particularly, by this, a man may learn the necessity of the new birth; the insufficiency of our works; the need of Christ's righteousness, &c. Besides, by this a man may learn, by talk, what it is to repent, to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like; by this also a man may learn what are the great promises and consolations of the Gospel, to his own comfort. Further, by this a man may learn to refute false opinions, to vindicate the truth, and also to instruct the ignorant.[121]

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

TALK. Alas! the want of this is the cause why so few understand the need of faith, and the necessity of a work of grace in their soul, in order to eternal life; but ignorantly live in the works of the law, by which a man can by no means obtain the kingdom of Heaven.

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

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

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

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

FAITH. Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and stepping to Christian (for he walked all this while by himself), he said to him (but softly), What a brave companion have we got! Surely this man will make a very excellent pilgrim.

CHR. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said, This man, with whom you are so taken, will beguile, with that tongue of his, 20 of them that know him not.

FAITH. Do you know him, then?

CHR. Know him! Yes, better than he knows himself.

FAITH. Pray, what is he?

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

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

CHR. He is the son of one Say-well; he dwelt in Prating Row; and he is known of all that are acquainted with him, by the name of Talkative in Prating Row; and notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorry fellow.[122]

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

CHR. That is, to them who have not thorough acquaintance with him; for he is best abroad; near home, he is ugly enough. Your saying that he is a pretty man, brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of the painter, whose pictures show best at a distance, but, very near, more unpleasing.

FAITH. But I am ready to think you do but jest, because you smiled.

CHR. God forbid that I should jest (although I smiled) in this matter, or that I should accuse any falsely! I will give you a further discovery of him. This man is for any company, and for any talk; as he talketh now with you, so will he talk when he is on the ale-bench; and the more drink he hath in his crown, the more of these things he hath in his mouth; religion hath no place in his heart, or house, or conversation; all he hath, lieth in his tongue, and his religion is to make a noise therewith. FAITH. Say you so! then am I in this man greatly deceived.[123]

CHR. Deceived! you may be sure of it; remember the proverb, "They say, and do not" (Mt 23:3). But the "kingdom of God is not in word, but in power" (1Co 4:20). He talketh of prayer, of repentance, of faith, and of the new birth; but he knows but only to talk of them. I have been in his family, and have observed him both at home and abroad; and I know what I say of him is the truth. His house is as empty of religion, as the white of an egg is of savour. There is there, neither prayer, nor sign of repentance for sin; yea, the brute in his kind serves God far better than he. He is the very stain, reproach, and shame of religion, to all that know him; it can hardly have a good word in all that end of the town where he dwells, through him (Ro 2:24-25). Thus say the common people that know him, A saint abroad, and a devil at home. His poor family finds it so, he is such a churl, such a railer at, and so unreasonable with his servants, that they neither know how to do for, or speak to him. Men that have any dealings with him, say, it is better to deal with a Turk than with him; for fairer dealing they shall have at their hands. This Talkative (if it be possible) will go beyond them, defraud, beguile, and over-reach them. Besides, he brings up his sons to follow his steps; and if he findeth in any of them a foolish timorousness (for so he calls the first appearance of a tender conscience), he calls them fools, and blockheads, and by no means will employ them in much, or speak to their commendations before others. For my part, I am of opinion, that he has, by his wicked life, caused many to stumble and fall; and will be, if God prevent not, the ruin of many more.[124]

FAITH. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe you; not only because you say you know him, but also because, like a Christian, you make your reports of men. For I cannot think that you speak these things of ill-will, but because it is even so as you say.

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

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

CHR. They are two things indeed, and are as diverse as are the soul and the body; for as the body without the soul is but a dead carcass, so saying, if it be alone, is but a dead carcass also. The soul of religion is the practical part: "Pure religion and undefiled, before God and the Father, is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world" (Jas 1:27; see ver. 22-26). This Talkative is not aware of; he thinks that hearing and saying will make a good Christian, and thus he deceiveth his own soul. Hearing is but as the sowing of the seed; talking is not sufficient to prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life; and let us assure ourselves, that at the day of doom men shall be judged according to their fruits (Mt 13:25). It will not be said then, Did you believe? but, Were you doers, or talkers only? and accordingly shall they be judged. The end of the world is compared to our harvest; and you know men at harvest regard nothing but fruit. Not that anything can be accepted that is not of faith, but I speak this to show you how insignificant the profession of Talkative will be at that day.

FAITH. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by which he describeth the beast that is clean (Le 11; De 14). He is such a one that parteth the hoof and cheweth the cud; not that parteth the hoof only, or that cheweth the cud only. The hare cheweth the cud, but yet is unclean, because be parteth not the hoof. And this truly resembleth Talkative, he cheweth the cud, he seeketh knowledge, he cheweth upon the word; but he divideth not the hoof, he parteth not with the way of sinners; but, as the hare, he retaineth the foot of a dog or bear, and therefore he is unclean.[125]

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

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

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

FAITH. What would you have me to do?

CHR. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious discourse about the power of religion; and ask him plainly (when he has approved of it, for that he will) whether this thing be set up in his heart, house, or conversation?[126]

FAITH. Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to Talkative, Come, what cheer? How is it now?

TALK. Thank you, well. I thought we should have had a great deal of talk by this time.

FAITH. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now; and since you left it with me to state the question, let it be this: How doth the saving grace of God discover itself, when it is in the heart of man?

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

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

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

FAITH. 0! a great deal. A man may cry out against sin of policy, but he cannot abhor it, but by virtue of a godly antipathy against it. I have heard many cry out against sin in the pulpit, who yet can abide it well enough in the heart, house, and conversation. Joseph's mistress cried out with a loud voice, as if she had been very holy; but she would willingly, notwithstanding that, have committed uncleanness with him (Ge 39:15). Some cry out against sin, even as the mother cries out against her child in her lap, when she calleth it slut and naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and kissing it.[127]

TALK. You lie at the catch, I perceive.[128]

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

TALK. Great knowledge of Gospel mysteries.

FAITH. This sign should have been first; but first or last, it is also false; for knowledge, great knowledge, may be obtained in the mysteries of the Gospel, and yet no work of grace in the soul (1Co 13). Yea, if a man have all knowledge, he may yet be nothing, and so consequently be no child of God. When Christ said, "Do you know all these things?" and the disciples had answered, Yes; He addeth, "Blessed are ye if ye do them." He doth not lay the blessing in the knowing of them, but in the doing of them. For there is a knowledge that is not attended with doing: "He that knoweth his master's will, and doeth it not." A man may know like an angel, and yet be no Christian, therefore your sign of it is not true. Indeed, to know is a thing that pleaseth talkers and boasters; but to do is that which pleaseth God. Not that the heart can be good without knowledge; for without that the heart is naught. There is, therefore, knowledge and knowledge. Knowledge that resteth in the bare speculation of things; and knowledge that is accompanied with the grace of faith and love; which puts a man upon doing even the will of God from the heart: the first of these will serve the talker; but without the other the true Christian is not content. "Give me understanding, and I shall keep Thy law; yea, I shall observe it with my whole heart" (Ps 119:34).

TALK. You lie at the catch again; this is not for edification.[129]

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

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

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

TALK. You may use your liberty.

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

To him that hath it thus: It gives him conviction of sin, especially of the defilement of his nature and the sin of unbelief (for the sake of which he is sure to be damned, if he findeth not mercy at God's hand, by faith in Jesus Christ) (Joh 16:8; Ro 7:24; Joh 16:9; Mr 16:16). This sight and sense of things worketh in him sorrow and shame for sin; he findeth, moreover, revealed in Him the Saviour of the world, and the absolute necessity of closing with Him for life, at the which he findeth hungerings and thirstings after Him; to which hungerings, &c., the promise is made (Ps 38:18; Jer 31:19; Ga 2:16; Ac 4:12; Mt 5:6; Re 21:27). Now, according to the strength or weakness of his faith in his Saviour, so is his joy and peace, so is his love to holiness, so are his desires to know Him more, and also to serve Him in this world. But though I say it discovereth itself thus unto him, yet it is but seldom that he is able to conclude that this is a work of grace; because his corruptions now, and his abused reason, make his mind to misjudge in this matter; therefore, in him that hath this work, there is required a very sound judgment before he can, with steadiness, conclude that this is a work of grace.

To others, it is thus discovered:

1.    By an experimental confession of his faith in Christ (Ro 10:10; Php 1:27; Mt 5:19).

2.         By a life answerable to that confession; to wit, a life of holiness; heart-holiness, family-holiness (if he hath a family), and by conversation-holiness in the world; which, in the general, teacheth him, inwardly, to abhor his sin, and himself for that, in secret; to suppress it in his family, and to promote holiness in the world; not by talk only, as a hypocrite or talkative person may do, but by a practical subjection, in faith and love, to the power of the Word (Joh 14:15; Ps 1:6; Job 42:5-6; Eze 20:43). And now, Sir, as to this brief description of the work of grace, and also the discovery of it, if you have aught to object, object; if not, then give me leave to propound to you a second question.

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

FAITH. It is this: Do you experience this first part of this description of it? and doth your life and conversation testify the same? or standeth your religion in word or in tongue, and not in deed and truth? Pray, if you incline to answer me in this, say no more than you know the God above will say Amen to; and, also, nothing but what your conscience can justify you in; "for, not he that commendeth himself is approved, but whom the Lord commendeth." Besides, to say, I am thus, and thus, when my conversation, and all my neighbours, tell me I lie, is great wickedness.[130]

TALK. Then Talkative at first began to blush; but, recovering himself, thus he replied: You come now to experience, to conscience, and God; and to appeal to Him for justification of what is spoken. This kind of discourse I did not expect; nor am I disposed to give an answer to such questions, because I count not myself bound thereto, unless you take upon you to be a catechiser, and, though you should so do, yet I may refuse to make you my judge. But, I pray, will you tell me why you ask me such questions?[131]

FAITH. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because I knew not that you had aught else but notion. Besides, to tell you all the truth, I have heard of you, that you are a man whose religion lies in talk, and that your conversation gives this your mouth-profession the lie. They say, you are a spot among Christians; and that religion fareth the worse for your ungodly conversation; that some already have stumbled at your wicked ways, and that more are in danger of being destroyed thereby; your religion, and an ale-house, and covetousness, and uncleanness, and swearing, and lying, and vain company keeping, &c., will stand together. The proverb is true of you which is said of a whore, to wit, that she is a shame to all women; so are you a shame to all professors.[132]

TALK. Since you are ready to take up reports, and to judge so rashly as you do, I cannot but conclude you are some peevish or melancholy man, not fit to be discoursed with; and so adieu.[133]

CHR. Then came up Christian, and said to his brother, I told you how it would happen; your words and his lusts could not agree; he had rather leave your company than reform his life. But he is gone, as I said; let him go, the loss is no man's but his own; he has saved us the trouble of going from him; for he continuing (as I suppose he will do) as he is, he would have been but a blot in our company; besides, the apostle says, "From such withdraw thyself."

FAITH. But I am glad we had this little discourse with him; it may happen that he will think of it again; however, I have dealt plainly with him, and so am clear of his blood, if he perisheth.

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

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

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

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

EVAN. Peace be with you, dearly beloved; and peace be to your helpers. CHR. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist; the sight of thy countenance brings to my remembrance thy ancient kindness and unwearied labouring for my eternal good.

FAITH. And a thousand times welcome, said good Faithful. Thy company, 0 sweet Evangelist, how desirable it is to us poor pilgrims![134]

EVAN. Then said Evangelist, How hath it fared with you, my friends, since the time of our last parting? What have you met with, and how have you behaved yourselves?

Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things that had happened to them in the way; and how and with what difficulty, they had arrived to that place.[135]

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

I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for mine own sake and yours. I have sowed, and you have reaped; and the day is coming, when both he that sowed and they that reaped shall rejoice together; that is, if you hold out; "for in due season ye shall reap, if ye faint not" (Joh 4:36; Ga 6:9). The crown is before you, and it is an incorruptible one; "so run, that you may obtain" it (1Co 9:24-27). Some there be that set out for this crown, and, after they have gone far for it, another comes in, and takes it from them; hold fast, therefore, that you have, let no man take your crown (Re 3:11).[136] You are not yet out of the gun-shot of the devil; you have not resisted unto blood, striving against sin; let the kingdom be always before you, and believe steadfastly concerning things that are invisible. Let nothing that is on this side the other world get within you; and, above all, look well to your own hearts, and to the lusts thereof, "for they are deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked"; set your faces like a flint; you have all power in Heaven and earth on your side.

CHR. Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation; but told him, withal, that they would have him speak further to them for their help the rest of the way, and the rather, for that they well knew that he was a prophet, and could tell them of things that might happen unto them, and also how they might resist and overcome them. To which request Faithful also consented. So Evangelist began as followeth:

EVAN. My sons, you have heard in the words of the truth of the Gospel that you must, through many tribulations, enter into the kingdom of Heaven. And again, that in every city bonds and afflictions abide in you; and therefore you cannot expect that you should go long on your pilgrimage without them, in some sort or other. You have found something of the truth of these testimonies upon you already, and more will immediately follow; for now, as you see, you are almost out of this wilderness, and therefore you will soon come into a town that you will by and by see before you; and in that town you will be hardly beset with enemies, who will strain hard but they will kill you; and be you sure that one or both of you must seal the testimony which you hold, with blood; but be you faithful unto death, and the King will give you a crown of life. He that shall die there, although his death will be unnatural, and his pain perhaps great, he will yet have the better of his fellow; not only because he will be arrived at the Celestial City soonest, but because he will escape many miseries that the other will meet with in the rest of his journey. But when you are come to the town, and shall find fulfilled what I have here related, then remember your friend and quit yourselves like men, and commit the keeping of your souls to your God in well-doing, as unto a faithful Creator[137]

Then I saw in my dream, that when they were got out of the wilderness, they presently saw a town before them, and the name of that town is Vanity; and at the town there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair: it is kept all the year long; it beareth the name of Vanity Fair, because the town where it is kept is lighter than vanity; and also because all that is there sold, or that cometh thither, is vanity. As is the saying of the wise, "All that cometh is vanity" (Ec 1; 2:11,17; 11:8; Isa 40:17).

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

Almost 5,000 years agone, there were pilgrims walking to the Celestial City as these two honest persons are: and Beelzebub, Apollyon, and Legion, with their companions, perceiving by the path that the pilgrims made, that their way to the city lay through this town of Vanity, they contrived here to set up a fair; a fair wherein should be sold all sorts of vanity, and that it should last all the year long: therefore at this fair are all such merchandise sold, as houses, lands, trades, places, honours, preferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts, pleasures, and delights of all sorts, as whores, bawds, wives, husbands, children, masters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls, precious stones, and what not.[138] And, moreover, at this fair there is at all times, to be seen juggling, cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves, and rogues, and that of every kind.

Here are to be seen too, and that for nothing, thefts, murders, adulteries, false swearers, and that of a blood-red colour[139]

And as in other fairs of less moment, there are the several rows and streets, under their proper names, where such and such wares are vended; so here likewise you have the proper places, rows, streets (viz. countries and kingdoms), where the wares of this fair are soonest to be found. Here is the Britain Row, the French Row, the Italian Row, the Spanish Row, the German Row, where several sorts of vanities are to be sold. But, as in other fairs, some one commodity is as the chief of all the fair, so the ware of Rome and her merchandise is greatly promoted in this fair; only our English nation, with some others, have taken a dislike thereat.[140]

Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just through this town where this lusty fair is kept; and he that will go to the City, and yet not go through this town, must needs "go out of the world" (1Co 5:10). The Prince of princes Himself, when here, went through this town to His own country, and that upon a fair day too; yea, and as I think, it was Beelzebub, the chief lord of this fair, that invited Him to buy of his vanities; yea, would have made Him lord of the fair, would He but have done him reverence as He went through the town (Mt 4:8; Lu 4:5-7). Yea, because He was such a person of honour, Beelzebub had Him from street to street, and showed Him all the kingdoms of the world in a little time, that he might, if possible, allure the Blessed One to cheapen and buy some of his vanities; but He had no mind to the merchandise, and therefore left the town, without laying out so much as one farthing upon these vanities.

This fair, therefore, is an ancient thing, of long standing, and a very great fair. Now these Pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through this fair[141] Well, so they did; but, behold, even as they entered into the fair, all the people in the fair were moved, and the town itself as it were in a hubbub about them; and that for several reasons; for-

First, The pilgrims were clothed with such kind of raiment as was diverse from the raiment of any that traded in that fair. The people, therefore, of the fair, made a great gazing upon them: some said they were fools, some they were bedlams, and some they are outlandish men[142] (1Co 2:7-8).

Secondly, And as they wondered at their apparel, so they did likewise at their speech; for few could understand what they said; they naturally spoke the language of Canaan, but they that kept the fair were the men of this world; so that, from one end of the fair to the other, they seemed barbarians each to the other.

Thirdly, But that which did not a little amuse the merchandisers was, that these pilgrims set very light by all their wares; they cared not so much as to look upon them; and if they called upon them to buy, they would put their fingers in their ears, and cry, "Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity,"[143] and look upwards, signifying that their trade and traffic was in Heaven (Ps 119:37; Php 3:19-20).

One chanced mockingly, beholding the carriage of the men, to say unto them, What will ye buy? But they, looking gravely upon him, answered, "We buy the truth" (Ps 23:6)4144] At that there was an occasion taken to despise the men the more: some mocking, some taunting, some speaking reproachfully, and some calling upon others to smite them. At last things came to a hubbub, and great stir in the fair, insomuch that all order was confounded. Now was word presently brought to the great one of the fair, who quickly came down, and deputed some of his most trusty friends to take these men into examination, about whom the fair was almost overturned. So the men were brought to examination; and they that sat upon them, asked them whence they came, whither they went, and what they did there in such an unusual garb? The men told them, that they were pilgrims and strangers in the world, and that they were going to their own country, which was the heavenly Jerusalem (Heb 9:13-16); and that they had given no occasion to the men of the town, nor yet to the merchandisers, thus to abuse them, and to let them in their journey, except it was, for that, when one asked them what they would buy, they said they would buy the truth. But they that were appointed to examine them did not believe them to be any other than bedlams and mad, or else such as came to put all things into a confusion in the fair. Therefore they took them and beat them, and besmeared them with dirt, and then put them into the cage, that they might be made a spectacle to all the men of the fair. There, therefore, they lay for some time, and were made the objects of any man's sport, or malice, or revenge, the great one of the fair laughing still at all that befell them. But the men being patient, and not rendering railing for railing, but contrariwise, blessing, and giving good words for bad, and kindness for injuries done, some men in the fair that were more observing, and less prejudiced than the rest, began to check and blame the baser sort for their continual abuses done by them to the men; they, therefore, in angry manner, let fly at them again, counting them as bad as the men in the cage, and telling them that they seemed confederates, and should be made partakers of their misfortunes.[145] The other replied, that for aught they could see, the men were quiet, and sober, and intended nobody any harm; and that there were many that traded in their fair, that were more worthy to be put into the cage, yea, and pillory too, than were the men that they had abused. Thus, after divers words had passed on both sides, the men behaving themselves all the while very wisely and soberly before them, they fell to some blows among themselves, and did harm one to another. Then were these two poor men brought before their examiners again, and there charged as being guilty of the late hubbub that had been in the fair. So they beat them pitifully, and hanged irons upon them, and led them in chains up and down the fair, for an example and a terror to others, lest any should speak in their behalf, or join themselves unto them.[146] But Christian and Faithful behaved themselves yet more wisely, and received the ignominy and shame that was cast upon them, with so much meekness and patience, that it won to their side, though but few in comparison of the rest, several of the men in the fair. This put the other party yet into greater rage, insomuch that they concluded the death of these two men. Wherefore they threatened, that the cage nor irons should serve their turn, but that they should die, for the abuse they had done, and for deluding the men of the fair.

Then were they remanded to the cage again, until further order should be taken with them. So they put them in, and made their feet fast in the stocks.

Here, therefore, they called again to mind what they had heard from their faithful friend Evangelist, and were the more confirmed in their way and sufferings, by what he told them would happen to them.[147] They also now comforted each other, that whose lot it was to suffer, even he should have the best of it; therefore each man secretly wished that he might have that preferment: but committing themselves to the all-wise disposal of Him that ruleth all things, with much content they abode in the condition in which they were, until they should be otherwise disposed of.[148]

Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought them forth to their trial, in order to their condemnation. When the time was come, they were brought before their enemies and arraigned. The Judge's name was Lord Hate-good. Their indictment was one and the same in substance, though somewhat varying in form, the contents whereof were this-

"That they were enemies to, and disturbers of their trade; that they had made commotions and divisions in the town, and had won a party to their own most dangerous opinions, in contempt of the law of their prince." [149]

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

Then proclamation was made, that they that had aught to say for their lord the king against the prisoner at the bar, should forthwith appear and give in their evidence. So there came in three witnesses, to wit, Envy, Superstition, and Pickthank. They were then asked if they knew the prisoner at the bar; and what they had to say for their lord the king against him.

Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect, My Lord, I have known this man a long time, and will attest upon my oath before this honourable bench, that he is-

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

ENVY. My Lord, this man, notwithstanding his plausible name, is one of the vilest men in our country. He neither regardeth prince nor people, law nor custom; but doth all that he can to possess all men with certain of his disloyal notions,[150] which he in the general calls principles of faith and holiness. And, in particular, I heard him once myself affirm, that Christianity and the customs of our town of Vanity, were diametrically opposite, and could not be reconciled. By which saying, my Lord, he doth at once not only condemn all our laudable doings, but us in the doing of them.

JUDGE. Then did the Judge say to him, Hast thou any more to say?

ENVY. My Lord, I could say much more, only I would not be tedious to the court. Yet, if need be, when the other gentlemen have given in their evidence, rather than anything shall be wanting that will despatch him, I will enlarge my testimony against him. So he was bid stand by.

Then they called Superstition, and bid him look upon the prisoner. They also asked, what he could say for their lord the king against him. Then they sware him; so he began.

SUPER. My Lord, I have no great acquaintance with this man, nor do I desire to have further knowledge of him; however, this I know, that he is a very pestilent fellow, from some discourse that, the other day, I had with him in this town; for then talking with him, I heard him say, that our religion was naught, and such by which a man could by no means please God. Which sayings of his, my Lord, your Lordship very well knows, what necessarily thence will follow, to wit, that we do still worship in vain, are yet in our sins, and finally shall be damned; and this is that which I have to say.[151]

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

PICK. My Lord, and you gentlemen all, This fellow I have known of a long time, and have heard him speak things that ought not to be spoke; for he hath railed on our noble prince Beelzebub, and hath spoken contemptibly of his honourable friends, whose names are the Lord Old Man, the Lord Carnal Delight, the Lord Luxurious, the Lord Desire of Vain Glory, my old Lord Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, with all the rest of our nobility; and he hath said, moreover, That if all men were of his mind, if possible, there is not one of these noblemen should have any longer a being in this town. Besides, he hath not been afraid to rail on you, my Lord, who are now appointed to be his judge, calling you an ungodly villain, with many other such like vilifying terms, with which he hath bespattered most of the gentry of our town.[152]

When this Pickthank had told his tale, the Judge directed his speech to the prisoner at the bar, saying, Thou runagate, heretic, and traitor, hast thou heard what these honest gentlemen have witnessed against thee?

FAITH. May I speak a few words in my own defence?

JUDGE. Sirrah ! Sirrah! thou deservest to live no longer, but to be slain immediately upon the place; yet, that all men may see our gentleness towards thee, let us hear what thou, vile runagate, hast to say.

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

2.      As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition, and his charge against me, I said only this, That in the worship of God there is required a Divine faith; but there can be no Divine faith without a Divine revelation of the will of God. Therefore, whatever is thrust into the worship of God that is not agreeable to Divine revelation, cannot be done but by a human faith, which faith will not be profitable to eternal life.

3.      As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say (avoiding terms, as that I am said to rail, and the like), that the prince of this town, with all the rabblement, his attendants, by this gentleman named, are more fit for a being in hell, than in this town and country: and so, the Lord have mercy upon me![153]

Then the Judge called to the jury (who all this while stood by, to hear and observe);[154] Gentlemen of the jury, you see this man about whom so great an uproar hath been made in this town. You have also heard what these worthy gentlemen have witnessed against him. Also you have heard his reply and confession. It lieth now in your breasts to hang him, or save his life; but yet I think meet to instruct you into our law.

There was an Act made in the days of Pharaoh the Great, servant to our prince, that lest those of a contrary religion should multiply, and grow too strong for him, their males should be thrown into the river (Ex 1). There was also an Act made in the days of Nebuchadnezzar the Great, another of his servants, that whosoever would not fall down and worship his golden image, should be thrown into a fiery furnace (Da 3). There was also an Act made in the days of Darius, that whoso, for some time, called upon any God but him, should be cast into the lions' den (Da 6). Now the substance of these laws this rebel has broken, not only in thought (which is not to be borne) but also in word and deed; which must therefore needs be intolerable.

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

Then went the jury out, whose names were, Mr. Blind-man, Mr. No-good, Mr. Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, and Mr. Implacable; who every one gave in his private verdict against him among themselves, and afterwards unanimously concluded to bring him in guilty before the Judge. And first, among themselves, Mr. Blind-man, the foreman, said, I see clearly that this man is a heretic.[155] Then said Mr. No-good, Away with such a fellow from the earth. Ay, said Mr. Malice, for I hate the very looks of him. Then said Mr. Love-lust, I could never endure him. Nor I, said Mr. Live-loose, for he would always be condemning my way. Hang him, hang him, said Mr. Heady. A sorry scrub, said Mr. High-mind. My heart riseth against him, said Mr. Enmity. He is a rogue, said Mr. Liar. Hanging is too good for him, said Mr. Cruelty. Let us despatch him out of the way, said Mr. Hate-light. Then said Mr. Implacable, Might I have all the world given me, I could not be reconciled to him; therefore, let us forthwith bring him in guilty of death.[156] And so they did; therefore he was presently condemned, to be had from the place where he was, to the place from whence he came, and there to be put to the most cruel death that could be invented.[157]

They, therefore, brought him out, to do with him according to their law; and, first, they scourged him, then they buffeted him, then they lanced his flesh with knives; after that, they stoned him with stones, then pricked him with their swords; and, last of all, they burned him to ashes at the stake. Thus came Faithful to his end.[158]

Now I saw that there stood behind the multitude, a chariot and a couple of horses, waiting for Faithful, who (so soon as his adversaries had despatched him) was taken up into it, and straightway was carried up through the clouds, with sound of trumpet, the nearest way to the Celestial Gate.[159] But as for Christian, he had some respite, and was remanded back to prison. So he there remained for a space; but He that overrules all things, having the power of their rage in His own hand, so wrought it about, that Christian for that time escaped them, and went his way;[160] and as he went, he sang, saying-

Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully profest Unto thy Lord; with whom thou shalt be blest, When faithless ones, with all their vain delights, Are crying out under their hellish plights, Sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive; For, though they kill'd thee, thou art yet alive.

Now I saw in my dream, that Christian went not forth alone, for there was one whose name was Hopeful (being made so by the beholding of Christian and Faithful in their words and behaviour, in their sufferings at the Fair), who joined himself unto him, and, entering into a brotherly covenant, told him that he would be his companion. Thus, one died to bear testimony to the truth, and another rises out of his ashes, to be a companion with Christian in his pilgrimage.[161] This Hopeful also told Christian, that there were many more of the men in the Fair, that would take their time and follow after.

So I saw that quickly after they were got out of the Fair, they overtook one that was going before them, whose name was By-ends; so they said to him, What countryman, Sir? and how far go you this way? He told them, that he came from the town of Fair-speech, and he was going to the Celestial City, but told them not his name.

From Fair-speech! said Christian. Is there any good that lives there? (Pr 26:25).

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

CHR. Pray, Sir, What may I call you? Said Christian.

BY-ENDS. I am a stranger to you, and you to me: if you be going this way, I shall be glad of your company; if not, I must be content.

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

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

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

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

CHR. Are you a married man?

BY-ENDS. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, the daughter of a virtuous woman; she was my Lady Feigning's daughter, therefore she came of a very honourable family, and is arrived to such a pitch of breeding, that she knows how to carry it to all, even to prince and peasant. It is true we somewhat differ in religion from those of the stricter sort, yet but in two small points; first, we never strive against wind and tide; secondly, we are always most zealous when religion goes in his silver slippers; we love much to walk with him in the street, if the sun shines, and the people applaud him.[162]

Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow Hopeful, saying, It runs in my mind that this is one By-ends of Fair-speech; and if it be he, we have as very a knave in our company, as dwelleth in all these parts. Then said Hopeful, Ask him; methinks he should not be ashamed of his name. So Christian came up with him again, and said, Sir, you talk as if you knew something more than all the world doth;[163] and if I take not my mark amiss, I deem I have half a guess of you: Is not your name Mr. By-ends, of Fair-speech?

BY-ENDS. This is not my name, but indeed it is a nickname that is given me by some that cannot abide me; and I must be content to bear it as a reproach, as other good men have borne theirs before me.

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

BY-ENDS. Never, never! The worst that ever I did to give them an occasion to give me this name was, that I had always the luck to jump in my judgment with the present way of the times, whatever it was, and my chance was to get thereby; but if things are thus cast upon me, let me count them a blessing; but let not the malicious load me therefore with reproach.

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

BY-ENDS. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it; you shall find me a fair company-keeper, if you will still admit me your associate.

CHR. If you will go with us, you must go against wind and tide;[164] the which, I perceive, is against your opinion; you must also own religion in his rags, as well as when in his silver slippers; and stand by him, too, when bound in irons, as well as when he walketh the streets with applause.

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

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

Then said By-ends, I shall never desert my old principles, since they are harmless and profitable. If I may not go with you, I must do as I did before you overtook me, even go by myself, until some overtake me that will be glad of my company.[165]

Now I saw in my dream, that Christian and Hopeful forsook him, and kept their distance before him; but one of them looking back, saw three men following Mr. By-ends, and behold, as they came up with him, he made them a very low conge; and they also gave him a compliment. The men's names were Mr. Hold-the-world, Mr. Money-love, and Mr. Save-all;[166] men that Mr. By-ends had formerly been acquainted with; for in their minority they were schoolfellows, and were taught by one Mr. Gripeman, a schoolmaster in Love-gain, which is a market town in the county of Coveting, in the north. This schoolmaster taught them the art of getting, either by violence, cozenage, flattery, lying, or by putting on a guise of religion; and these four gentlemen had attained much of the art of their master, so that they could each of them have kept such a school themselves.

Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each other, Mr. Money-love said to Mr. By-ends, Who are they upon the road before us? (for Christian and Hopeful were yet within view). BY-ENDS. They are a couple of far countrymen, that, after their mode, are going on pilgrimage.

MONEY-LOVE. Alas! Why did they not stay, that we might have had their good company? for they, and we, and you, Sir, I hope, are all going on a pilgrimage.

BY-ENDS. We are so, indeed; but the men before us are so rigid, and love so much their own notions,[167] and do also so lightly esteem the opinions of others, that let a man be never so godly, yet if he jumps not with them in all things, they thrust him quite out of their company.

SAVE-ALL. That is had, but we read of some that are righteous overmuch;[168] and such men's rigidness prevails with them to judge and condemn all but themselves. But, I pray, what, and how many, were the things wherein you differed?[169]

BY-ENDS. Why, they, after their headstrong manner, conclude that it is duty to rush on their journey all weathers; and I am for waiting for wind and tide. They are for hazarding all for God at a clap; and I am for taking all advantages to secure my life and estate. They are for holding their notions, though all other men are against them; but I am for religion in what, and so far as the times, and my safety, will bear it. They are for religion when in rags and contempt; but I am for him when he walks in his golden slippers, in the sunshine, and with applause.[170]

MR. HOLD-THE-WORLD. Aye, and hold you there still, good Mr. By-ends; for, for my part, I can count him but a fool, that, having the liberty to keep what he has, shall be so unwise as to lose it. Let us be wise as serpents; it is best to make hay when the sun shines; you see how the bee lieth still all winter, and bestirs her only when she can have profit with pleasure. God sends sometimes rain, and sometimes sunshine; if they be such fools to go through the first, yet let us be content to take fair weather along with us. For my part, I like that religion best, that will stand with the security of God's good blessings unto us; for who can imagine, that is ruled by his reason, since God has bestowed upon us the good things of this life, but that He would have us keep them for His sake? Abraham and Solomon grew rich in religion. And Job says, that a good man shall lay up gold as dust. But he must not be such as the men before us, if they be as you have described them.

MR. SAVE-ALL. I think that we are all agreed in this matter, and therefore there needs no more words about it.[171]

MR. MONEY-LOVE. No, there needs no more words about this matter indeed; for he that believes neither Scripture nor reason (and you see we have both on our side), neither knows his own liberty, nor seeks his own safety.[172]

MR. BY-ENDS. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on pilgrimage; and for our better diversion from things that are bad, give me leave to propound unto you this question: Suppose a man, a minister, or a tradesman, &c., should have an advantage lie before him, to get the good blessings of this life, yet so as that he can by no means come by them except, in appearance at least, he becomes extraordinary zealous in some points of religion that he meddled not with before; may he not use this means to attain his end, and yet be a right honest man?

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

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

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

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

4.    I conclude then, that a minister that changes a small for a great, should not, for so doing, be judged as covetous; but rather, since he is improved in his parts and industry thereby, be counted as one that pursues his call, and the opportunity put into his hand to do good.[173]

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

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

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

3.         Besides, the man that gets these by becoming religious, gets that which is good, of them that are good, by becoming good himself; so then here is a good wife, and good customers, and good gain, and all these by becoming religious, which is good; therefore, to become religious to get all these, is a good and profitable design.[174]

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

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

CHR. then said Christian, Even a babe in religion may answer 10,000 such questions. For if it be unlawful to follow Christ for loaves (as it is in the sixth of John), how much more abominable is it to make of him and religion a stalking-horse, to get and enjoy the world![175] Nor do we find any other than heathens, hypocrites, devils, and witches, that are of this opinion.[176]

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

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

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

4.         Simon the witch was of this religion too; for he would have had the Holy Ghost, that he might have got money therewith; and his sentence from Peter's mouth was according (Ac 8:19-20).

5.    Neither will it out of my mind, but that that man that takes up religion for the world, will throw away religion for the world; for so surely as Judas designed the world in becoming religious, so surely did he also sell religion and his Master for the same.

To answer the question therefore affirmatively, as I perceive you have done; and to accept of, as authentic, such answer, is both heathenish, hypocritical, and devilish; and your reward will be according to your works.[177] Then they stood staring one upon another, but had not wherewith to answer Christian. Hopeful also approved of the soundness of Christian's answer; so there was a great silence among them. Mr. By ends and his company also staggered and kept behind, that Christian and Hopeful might outgo them. Then said Christian to his fellow, If these men cannot stand before the sentence of men, what will they do with the sentence of God? And if they are mute when dealt with by vessels of clay, what will they do when they shall be rebuked by the flames of a devouring fire?[178]

Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and went till they came at a delicate plain, called Ease, where they went with much content; but that plain was but narrow, so they were quickly got over it. Now at the further side of that plain, was a little Hill called Lucre, and in that hill a silver mine, which some of them that had formerly gone that way, because of the rarity of it, had turned aside to see; but going too near the brink of the pit, the ground being deceitful under them, broke, and they were slain; some also had been maimed there, and could not, to their dying day, be their own men again.

Then I saw in my dream, that a little off the road, over against the silver mine, stood Demas (gentleman-like) to call to passengers to come and see; who said to Christian and his fellow, Ho! turn aside hither, and I will show you a thing.[179]

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

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

HOPE. Then said Hopeful, Let us go see.[180]

CHR. Not I, said Christian, I have heard of this place before now; and how many have there been slain; and besides that, treasure is a snare to those that seek it; for it hindereth them in their pilgrimage. Then Christian called to Demas, saying, Is not the place dangerous? Hath it not hindered many in their pilgrimage? (Ho 14:8).

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

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

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

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

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

CHR. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, Demas, thou art an enemy to the right ways of the Lord of this way, and hast been already condemned for thine own turning aside, by one of his Majesty's judges (2Ti 4:10); and why seekest thou to bring us into the like condemnation? Besides, if we at all turn aside, our Lord the King will certainly hear thereof, and will there put us to shame, where we would stand with boldness before Him. Demas cried again, That he also was one of their fraternity; and that if they would tarry a little, he also himself would walk with them.

CHR. Then said Christian, What is thy name? Is it not the same by the which I have called thee?

DEMAS. Yes, my name is Demas; I am the son of Abraham.

CHR. I know you; Gehazi was your great-grandfather, and Judas your father; and you have trod in their steps (2Ki 5:20; Mt 26:14-15; 27:1-5). It is but a devilish prank that thou usest; thy father was hanged for a traitor, and thou deservest no better reward. Assure thyself, that when we come to the King, we will do Him word of this thy behaviour. Thus they went their way.

By this time By-ends and his companions were come again within sight, and they, at the first beck, went over to Demas. Now, whether they fell into the pit by looking over the brink thereof, or whether they went down to dig, or whether they were smothered in the bottom by the damps that commonly arise, of these things I am not certain; but this I observed, that they never were seen again in the way.[181] Then sang Christian-

By-ends and silver Demas both agree; One calls, the other runs, that he may be A sharer in his lucre; so these do Take up in this world, and no further go.

Now I saw that, just on the other side of this plain, the Pilgrims came to a place where stood an old monument, hard by the highway strange side; at the sight of which they were both concerned, because of the strangeness of the form thereof; for it seemed to them as if it had been a woman transformed into the shape of a pillar; here therefore they stood looking, and looking upon it, but could not for a time tell what they should make thereof. At last Hopeful espied written above the head thereof, a writing in an unusual hand; but he being no scholar, called to Christian (for he was learned) to see if he could pick out the meaning; so he came, and after a little laying of letters together, he found the same to be this, "Remember Lot's wife." So he read it to his fellow; after which they both concluded that that was the pillar of salt into which Lot's wife was turned, for her looking back with a covetous heart, when she was going from Sodom for safety[182] (Ge 19:26); which sudden and amazing sight gave them occasion of this discourse.

CHR. Ah, my brother! this is a seasonable sight; it came opportunely to us after the invitation which Demas gave us to come over to view the Hill Lucre; and had we gone over, as he desired us, and as thou wast inclining to do, my brother, we had, for aught I know, been made ourselves like this woman, a spectacle for those that shall come after to behold.

HOPE. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am made to wonder that I am not now as Lot's wife; for wherein was the difference betwixt her sin and mine? She only looked back; and I had a desire to go see. Let grace be adored, and let me be ashamed, that ever such a thing should be in mine heart.

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

HOPE. True, and she may be to us both caution and example; caution, that we should shun her sin; or a sign of what judgment will overtake such as shall not be prevented by this caution; so Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, with the 250 men that perished in their sin, did also become a sign or example to others to beware (Nu 26:9-10). But above all, I muse at one thing, to wit, how Demas and his fellows can stand so confidently yonder to look for that treasure, which this woman, but for looking behind her, after (for we read not that she stepped one foot out of the way) was turned into a pillar of salt; especially since the judgment which overtook her did make her an example, within sight of where they are; for they cannot choose but see her, did they but lift up their eyes.

CHR. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth that their hearts are grown desperate in the case; and I cannot tell who to compare them to so fitly, as to them that pick pockets in the presence of the judge, or that will out purses under the gallows.[183] It is said of the men of Sodom, that they were sinners exceedingly, because they were sinners before the Lord, that is, in His eyesight, and notwithstanding the kindnesses that He had showed them (Ge 13:13), for the land of Sodom was now like the garden of Eden heretofore (Ge 13:10). This, therefore, provoked Him the more to jealousy, and made their plague as hot as the fire of the Lord out of Heaven could make it. And it is most rationally to be concluded, that such, even such as these are, that shall sin in the sight, yea, and that too in despite of such examples that are set continually before them, to caution them to the contrary, must be partakers of severest judgments.

HOPE. Doubtless thou hast said the truth; but what a mercy is it, that neither thou, but especially I, am not made myself this example! This ministereth occasion to us to thank God, to fear before Him, and always to remember Lot's wife.[184]

I saw, then, that they went on their way to a pleasant river; which David the king called "the river of God," but John "the river of the water of life"[185] (Ps 65:9; Re 22; Eze 47). Now their way lay just upon the bank of the river; here, therefore, Christian and his companion walked with great delight; they drank also of the water of the river, which was pleasant, and enlivening to their weary spirits:[186] besides, on the banks of this river, on either side, were green trees, that bore all manner of fruit; and the leaves of the trees were good for medicine; with the fruit of these trees they were also much delighted; and the leaves they eat to prevent surfeits, and other diseases that are incident to those that heat their blood by travels. On either side of the river was also a meadow, curiously beautified with lilies, and it was green all the year long. In this meadow they lay down, and slept; for here they might lie down safely. When they awoke, they gathered again of the fruit of the trees, and drank again of the water of the river, and then lay down again to sleep (Ps 23:2; Isa 14:30). Thus they did several days and nights.[187] Then they sang-

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

So when they were disposed to go on (for they were not, as yet, at their journey's end), they ate and drank, and departed.[188]

Now, I beheld in my dream, that they had not journeyed far, but the river and the way for a time parted; at which they were not a little sorry; yet they durst not go out of the way. Now the way from the river was rough, and their feet tender, by reason of their travels; "so the souls of the pilgrims were much discouraged because of the way" (Nu 21:4). Wherefore, still as they went on, they wished for better way.[189] Now, a little before them, there was on the left hand of the road a meadow, and a stile to go over into it; and that meadow is called By-path Meadow. Then said Christian to his fellow, If this meadow lieth along by our way-side, let us go over into it.[190] Then he went to the stile to see, and behold, a path lay along by the way, on the other side of the fence. It is according to my wish, said Christian. Here is the easiest going; come, good Hopeful, and let us go over.

HOPE. But how if this path should lead us out of the way?[191]

CHR. That is not like, said the other. Look, doth it not go along by the way-side? So Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after him over the stile. When they were gone over, and were got into the path, they found it very easy for their feet; and withal, they, looking before them, espied a man walking as they did (and his name was Vain-confidence); so they called after him, and asked him whither that way led. He said, to the Celestial Gate.[192] Look, said Christian, did not I tell you so? By this you may see we are right. So they followed, and he went before them. But, behold, the night came on, and it grew very dark; so that they that were behind, lost the sight of him that went before.

He, therefore, that went before[193] (Vain-confidence by name), not seeing the way before him, fell into a deep pit (Isa 9:16), which was on purpose there made, by the Prince of those grounds, to catch vain-glorious fools withal, and was dashed in pieces with his fall.[194]

Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So they called to know the matter, but there was none to answer; only they heard a groaning. Then said Hopeful, Where are we now? Then was his fellow silent, as mistrusting that he had led him out of the way; and now it began to rain, and thunder, and lighten[195] in a very dreadful manner; and the water rose amain.[196]

Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, 0 that I had kept on my way!

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

HOPE. I was afraid on it at the very first, and therefore gave you that gentle caution. I would have spoke plainer, but that you are older than I.[197]

CHR. Good brother, be not offended; I am sorry I have brought thee out of the way, and that I have put thee into such imminent danger; pray, my brother, forgive me; I did not do it of an evil intent.[198]

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

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

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

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

HOPE. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first; for your mind being troubled may lead you out of the way again. Then, for their encouragement, they heard the voice of one saying, "Set thine heart toward the highway, even the way which thou wentest; turn again" (Jer 31:21). But by this time the waters were greatly risen, by reason of which the way of going back was very dangerous. (Then I thought that it is easier going out of the way when we are in, than going in when we are out). Yet they adventured to go back, but it was so dark, and the flood was so high, that in their going back they had like to have been drowned nine or 10 times.[199]

Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get again to the stile that night. Wherefore, at last, lighting under a little shelter, they sat down there until the day-break; but, being weary, they fell asleep. Now there was, not far from the place where they lay, a castle, called Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair;[200] and it was in his grounds they now were sleeping: wherefore he, getting up in the morning early, and walking up and down in his fields, caught Christian and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then, with a grim and surly voice, he bid them awake; and asked them whence they were, and what they did in his grounds. They told him they were pilgrims, and that they had lost their way. Then said the Giant, You have this night trespassed on me, by trampling in, and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must go along with me. So they were forced to go, because he was stronger than they.[201] They also had but little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault. The Giant therefore drove them before him, and put them into his castle, into a very dark dungeon, nasty and stinking to the spirits of these two men (Ps 88:18). Here then they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday night, without one bit of bread, or drop of drink, or light, or any to ask how they did; they were therefore here in evil case, and were far from friends and acquaintance. Now in this place Christian had double sorrow,[202] because it was through his unadvised counsel that they were brought into this distress.[203]

Now, Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence.[204] So, when he was gone to bed, he told his wife what he had done; to wit, that he had taken a couple of prisoners, and cast them into his dungeon, for trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked her also what he had best to do further to them. So she asked him what they were, whence they came, and whither they were bound; and he told her. Then she counselled him, that when he arose in the morning he should beat them without any mercy. So, when he arose, he getteth him a grievous crab-tree cudgel, and goes down into the dungeon to them, and there first falls to rating of them as if they were dogs, although they never gave him a word of distaste. Then he falls upon them, and beats them fearfully, in such sort, that they were not able to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. This done, he withdraws and leaves them, there to condole their misery, and to mourn under their distress. So all that day they spent the time in nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations. The next night, she, talking with her husband about them further, and understanding that they were yet alive, did advise him to counsel them to make away themselves. So when morning was come, he goes to them in a surly manner as before, and perceiving them to be very sore with the stripes that he had given them the day before, he told them, that since they were never like to come out of that place, their only way would be forthwith to make an end of themselves, either with knife, halter, or poison, for why, said he, should you choose life, seeing it is attended with so much bitterness?[205] But they desired him to let them go. With that he looked ugly upon them, and, rushing to them, had doubtless made an end of them himself, but that he fell into one of his fits (for he sometimes, in sunshiny weather, fell into fits),[206] and lost for a time the use of his hand; wherefore he withdrew, and left them as before, to consider what to do. Then did the prisoners consult between themselves, whether it was best to take his counsel or no; and thus they began to discourse:

CHR. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do? The life that we now live is miserable. For my part, I know not whether is best, to live thus, or to die out of hand. "My soul chooseth strangling rather than life," and the grave is more easy for me than this dungeon (Job 7:15). Shall we be ruled by the Giant?[207]

HOPE. Indeed, our present condition is dreadful, and death would be far more welcome to me than thus for ever to abide; but yet, let us consider, the Lord of the country to which we are going hath said, Thou shalt do no murder: no, not to another man's person; much more, then, are we forbidden to take his counsel to kill ourselves. Besides, he that kills another, can but commit murder upon his body; but for one to kill himself, is to kill body and soul at once. And, moreover, my brother, thou talkest of ease in the grave; but hast thou forgotten the hell, whither for certain the murderers go? For "no murderer hath eternal life," &c.[208] And let us consider, again, that all the law is not in the hand of Giant Despair. Others, so far as I can understand, have been taken by him, as well as we; and yet have escaped out of his hand. Who knows, but that God that made the world may cause that Giant Despair may die? or that, at some time or other, he may forget to lock us in? or that he may, in a short time, have another of his fits before us, and may lose the use of his limbs? and if ever that should come to pass again, for my part, I am resolved to pluck up the heart of a man, and to try my utmost to get from under his hand. I was a fool that I did not try to do it before; but, however, my brother, let us be patient, and endure a while. The time may come that may give us a happy release; but let us not be our own murderers. With these words, Hopeful at present did moderate the mind of his brother; so they continued together (in the dark) that day, in their sad and doleful condition.[209]

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

At this they trembled greatly,[210] and I think that Christian fell into a swoon;[211] but, coming a little to himself again, they renewed their discourse about the Giant's counsel, and whether yet they had best to take it or no. Now Christian again seemed to be for doing it,[212] but Hopeful made his second reply as followeth-

HOPE. My brother, said he, rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast been heretofore? Apollyon could not crush thee, nor could all that thou didst hear, or see, or feel, in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. What hardship, terror, and amazement hast thou already gone through! And art thou now nothing but fear! Thou seest that I am in the dungeon with thee, a far weaker man by nature than thou art; also, this Giant has wounded me as well as thee, and hath also cut off the bread and water from my mouth; and with thee I mourn without the light. But let us exercise a little more patience; remember how thou playedst the man at Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of the chain, nor cage, nor yet of bloody death. Wherefore let us (at least to avoid the shame, that becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear up with patience as well as we can.[213]

Now, night being come again, and the Giant and his wife being in bed, she asked him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his counsel. To which he replied, They are sturdy rogues, they choose rather to bear all hardship, than to make away themselves. Then said she, Take them into the castle-yard tomorrow, and show them the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already despatched, and make them believe, ere a week comes to an end, thou also wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast done their fellows before them.[214]

So when the morning was come, the Giant goes to them again, and takes them into the castle-yard, and shows them, as his wife had bidden him. These, said he, were pilgrims as you are, once, and they trespassed in my grounds, as you have done; and when I thought fit, I tore them in pieces, and so, within 10 days, I will do you. Go, get you down to your den again; and with that, he beat them all the way thither. They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in a lamentable case, as before.[215] Now, when night was come, and when Mrs. Diffidence and her husband, the Giant, were got to bed, they began to renew their discourse of their prisoners; and withal the old Giant wondered, that he could neither by his blows nor his counsel bring them to an end. And with that his wife replied, I fear, Said she, that they live in hope that some will come to relieve them, or that they have picklocks about them, by the means of which they hope to escape. And sayest thou so, my dear? said the Giant; I will, therefore, search them in the morning.

Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in prayer till almost break of day.[216]

Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half-amazed, brake out in this passionate speech: What a fool, quoth he, am I, thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty! I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle. Then said Hopeful, That is good news, good brother; pluck it out of thy bosom, and try.[217]

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the dungeon door, whose bolt (as he turned the key) gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the outward door that leads into the castle-yard, and, with his key, opened that door also. After, he went to the iron gate, for that must be opened too; but that lock went damnable hard,[218] yet the key did open it. Then they thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed, but that gate, as it opened, made such a creaking, that it waked Giant Despair, who, hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his fits took him again, so that he could by no means go after them.[219] Then they went on, and came to the King's highway, and so were safe, because they were out of his jurisdiction.[220]

Now, when they were gone over the stile, they began to contrive with themselves what they should do at that stile, to prevent those that should come after, from falling into the hands of Giant Despair[221] So they consented to erect there a pillar, and to engrave upon the side thereof this sentence-"Over this stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial Country, and seeks to destroy His holy pilgrims." Many, therefore, that followed after, read what was written, and escaped the danger. This done, they sang as follows-

Out of the way we went, and then we found What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground; And let them that come after have a care, Lest heedlessness makes them, as we, to fare. Lest they for trespassing his prisoners are, Whose castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair.

They went then till they came to the Delectable Mountains, which mountains belong to the Lord of that hill of which we have spoken before; so they went up to the mountains, to behold the gardens and orchards, the vineyards and fountains of water; where also they drank and washed themselves, and did freely eat of the vineyards.[222] Now there were on the tops of these mountains, shepherds feeding their flocks, and they stood by the highway side. The Pilgrims therefore went to them, and leaning upon their staves (as is common with weary pilgrims, when they stand to talk with any by the way), they asked, Whose Delectable Mountains are these? And whose be the sheep that feed upon them?

SHEP. These mountains are Immanuel's Land, and they are within sight of His city; and the sheep also are His, and He laid down His life for them (Joh 10:11).

CHR. Is this the way to the Celestial City?

SHEP. You are just in your way.

CHR. How far is it thither?

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

CHR. Is the way safe or dangerous?

SHEP. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe; but the transgressors shall fall therein[223] (Ho 14:9).

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

SHEP. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a charge not to be "forgetful to entertain strangers" (Heb 13:2); therefore the good of the place is before you.

I saw also in my dream, that when the Shepherds perceived that they were wayfaring men, they also put questions to them, to which they made answer as in other places; as, Whence came you? And, How got you into the way? And, By what means have you so persevered therein? For but few of them that begin to come hither, do show their face on these mountains. But when the Shepherds heard their answers, being pleased therewith, they looked very lovingly upon them, and said, Welcome to the Delectable Mountains.[224]

The Shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere, took them by the hand, and had them to their tents, and made them partake of that which was ready at present.[225] They said, moreover, We would that ye should stay here a while, to be acquainted with us; and yet more to solace yourselves with the good of these Delectable Mountains. They then told them that they were content to stay; so they went to their rest that night, because it was very late.

Then I saw in my dream, that in the morning the Shepherds called up Christian and Hopeful to walk with them upon the mountains: so they went forth with them, and walked a while, having a pleasant prospect on every side. Then said the Shepherds one to another, Shall we show these Pilgrims some wonders? So when they had concluded to do it, they had them first to the top of a hill Error, which was very steep on the furthest side, and bid them look down to the bottom. So Christian and Hopeful looked down, and saw at the bottom several men dashed all to pieces by a fall that they had from the top. Then said Christian, What meaneth this? The Shepherds answered, Have you not heard of them that were made to err, by hearkening to Hymeneus and Philetus, as concerning the faith of the resurrection of the body? (2Ti 2:17-18). They answered, Yes. Then said the Shepherds, Those that you see lie dashed in pieces at the bottom of this mountain are they; and they have continued to this day unburied, as you see, for an example to others to take heed how they clamber too high, or how they come too near the brink of this mountain.[226]

Then I saw that they had them to the top of another mountain, and the name of that is Caution, and bid them look afar off;[227] which, when they did, they perceived, as they thought, several men walking up and down among the tombs that were there; and they perceived that the men were blind, because they stumbled sometimes upon the tombs, and because they could not get out from among them.[228] Then said Christian, What means this?

The Shepherds then answered, Did you not see a little below these mountains a stile that led into a meadow, on the left hand of this way? They answered, Yes. Then said the Shepherds, From that stile there goes a path that leads directly to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, and these, pointing to them among the tombs, came once on pilgrimage as you do now, even till they came to that same stile; and because the right way was rough in that place, they chose to go out of it into that meadow, and there were taken by Giant Despair, and cast into Doubting Castle: where, after they had been a while kept in the dungeon, he at last did put out their eyes, and led them among those tombs, where he has left them to wander to this very day, that the saying of the wise man might be fulfilled, "He that wandereth out of the way of understanding, shall remain in the congregation of the dead" (Pr 21:16).[229] Then Christian and Hopeful looked upon one another, with tears gushing out, but yet said nothing to the Shepherds.[230]

Then I saw in my dream, that the Shepherds had them to another place, in a bottom, where was a door in the side of a hill, and they opened the door, and bid them look in. They looked in, therefore, and saw that within it was very dark and smoky; they also thought that they heard there a rumbling noise as of fire, and a cry of some tormented, and that they smelt the scent of brimstone. Then said Christian, What means this? The Shepherds told them, This is a byway to hell, a way that hypocrites go in at; namely, such as sell their birthright, with Esau; such as sell their master, with Judas; such as blaspheme the Gospel, with Alexander; and that lie and dissemble, with Ananias and Sapphira his wife.[231] Then said Hopeful to the Shepherds, I perceive that these had on them, even every one, a show of pilgrimage, as we have now; had they not?

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

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

SHEP. Some further, and some not so far, as these mountains.[232]

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

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

By this time the Pilgrims had a desire to go forward, and the Shepherds a desire they should; so they walked together towards the end of the mountains. Then said the Shepherds one to another, Let us here show to the Pilgrims the gates of the Celestial City, if they have skill to look through our perspective glass.[233] The Pilgrims then loving accepted the motion; so they had them to the top of a high hill, called Clear, and gave them their glass to look.

Then they essayed to look, but the remembrance of that last thing that the Shepherds had showed them, made their hands shake; by means of which impediment, they could not look steadily through the glass; yet they thought they saw something like the gate, and also some of the glory of the place.[234] Then they went away, and sang this song-

Thus, by the Shepherds, secrets are reveal'd, Which from all other men are kept conceal'd Come to the Shepherds, then, if you would see Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be.[235]

When they were about to depart, one of the Shepherds gave them a note of the way. Another of them bid them beware of the Flatterer. The third bid them take heed that they sleep not upon the Enchanted Ground. And the fourth bid them God speed. So I awoke from my dream.[236]

And I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same two Pilgrims going down the mountains along the highway towards the city. Now, a little below these mountains, on the left hand, lieth the country of Conceit;[237] from which country there comes into the way in which the Pilgrims walked, a little crooked lane. Here, therefore, they met with a very brisk lad, that came out of that country; and his name was Ignorance. So Christian asked him from what parts he came, and whither he was going.

IGNOR. Sir, I was born in the country that lieth off there, a little on the left hand, and I am going to the Celestial City.

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

IGNOR. As other good people do, said he.

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

IGNOR. I know my Lord's will, and I have been a good liver; I pay every man his own; I pray, fast, pay tithes, and give alms, and have left my country for whither I am going.[238]

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

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

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

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

HOPE. He further added, It is not good, I think, to say all to him at once; let us pass him by, if you will, and talk to him anon, even as he is able to bear it.[239]

So they both went on, and Ignorance he came after. Now when they had passed him a little way, they entered into a very dark lane, where they met a man whom seven devils had bound with seven strong cords, and were carrying of him back to the door that they saw on the side of the hill[240] (Mt 12:45; Pr 5:22). Now good Christian began to tremble, and so did Hopeful his companion; yet as the devils led away the man, Christian looked to see if he knew him; and he thought it might be one Turn-away, that dwelt in the town of Apostasy. But he did not perfectly see his face, for he did hang his head like a thief that is found.[241] But being once past, Hopeful looked after him, and espied on his back a paper with this inscription, "Wanton professor, and damnable apostate."[242] Then said Christian to his fellow, Now I call to remembrance, that which was told me of a thing that happened to a good man hereabout. The name of the man was Little-faith, but a good man, and he dwelt in the town of Sincere. The thing was this: At the entering in at this passage, there comes down from Broad-way Gate, a lane called Dead Man's Lane;[243] so called because of the murders that are commonly done there; and this Little-faith going on pilgrimage, as we do now, chanced to sit down there, and slept. Now there happened, at that time, to come down the lane from Broad-way Gate, three sturdy rogues, and their names were Faint-heart, Mistrust, and Guilt (three brothers), and they espying Little-faith, where he was, came galloping up with speed. Now the good man was just awake from his sleep, and was getting up to go on his journey. So they came up all to him, and with threatening language bid him stand. At this, Little-faith looked as white as a cloud, and had neither power to fight nor fly. Then said Faint-heart, Deliver thy purse. But he making no haste to do it (for he was loath to lose his money), Mistrust ran up to him, and thrusting his hand into his pocket, pulled out thence a bag of silver. Then he cried out, Thieves! Thieves! With that, Guilt, with a great club that was in his hand, struck Little-faith on the head, and with that blow felled him flat to the ground; where be lay bleeding as one that would bleed to death.[244] All this while the thieves stood by. But, at last, they hearing that some were upon the road, and fearing lest it should be one Great-grace, that dwells in the city of good-confidence, they betook themselves to their heels, and left this good man to shift for himself. Now, after a while, Little-faith came to himself, and getting up, made shift to scrabble on his way.[245] This was the story.

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

CHR. No; the place where his jewels were they never ransacked, so those he kept still. But, as I was told, the good man was much afflicted for his loss, for the thieves got most of his spending-money. That which they got not (as I said) were jewels,[246] also he had a little odd money left, but scarce enough to bring him to his journey's end (1Pe 4:18); nay, if I were not misinformed, he was forced to beg as be went, to keep himself alive; for his jewels he might not sell. But beg, and do what he could, he went (as we say) with many a hungry belly the most part of the rest of the way. [247]

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

CHR. It is a wonder; but they got not that, though they missed it not through any good cunning of his; for he, being dismayed with their coming upon him, had neither power nor skill to hide anything; so it was more by good Providence than by his endeavour, that they missed of that good thing.[248]

HOPE. But it must needs be a comfort to him, that they got not this jewel from him.[249]

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

HOPE. Alas! poor man. This could not but be a great grief to him.

CHR. Grief! aye, a grief indeed. Would it not have been so to any of us, had we been used as he, to be robbed, and wounded too, and that in a strange place, as he was? It is a wonder he did not die with grief, poor heart! I was told that he scattered almost all the rest of the way with nothing but doleful and bitter complaints; telling also to all that overtook him, or that he overtook in the way as he went, where he was robbed, and how; who they were that did it, and what he lost; how he was wounded, and that he hardly escaped with his life.[250]

HOPE. But it is a wonder that his necessity did not put him upon selling or pawning some of his jewels,[251] that he might have wherewith to relieve himself in his journey.

CHR. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the shell to this very day; for what should he pawn them, or to whom should he sell them? In all that country where he was robbed, his jewels were not accounted of; nor did he want that relief which could from thence be administered to him. Besides, had his jewels been missing at the gate of the Celestial City, he had (and that he knew well enough) been excluded from an inheritance there; and that would have been worse to him than the appearance and villany of 10,000 thieves.

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

CHR. Esau did sell his birthright indeed, and so do many besides, and by so doing exclude themselves from the chief blessing, as also that caitiff did; but you must put a difference betwixt Esau and Little-faith, and also betwixt their estates. Esau's birthright was typical, but Little-faith's jewels were not so; Esau's belly was his god, but Little-faith's belly was not so; Esau's want lay in his fleshly appetite, Little-faith's did not so. Besides, Esau could see no further than to the fulfilling of his lusts; "Behold I am at the point to die (said he), and what profit shall this birthright do me?" (Ge 25:32). But Little-faith, though it was his lot to have but a little faith, was by his little faith kept from such extravagances, and made to see and prize his jewels more than to sell them, as Esau did his birthright. You read not anywhere that Esau had faith, no, not so much as a little; therefore no marvel if, where the flesh only bears sway (as it will in that man where no faith is to resist), if he sells his birthright, and his soul and all, and that to the devil of hell; for it is with such, as it is with the ass, who in her occasions cannot be turned away (Jer 2:24). When their minds are set upon their lusts, they will have them whatever they cost. But Little-faith was of another temper, his mind was on things divine; his livelihood was upon things that were spiritual, and from above; therefore, to what end should he that is of such a temper sell his jewels (had there been any that would have bought them) to fill his mind with empty things? Will a man give a penny to fill his belly with hay; or can you persuade the turtle-dove to live upon carrion like the crow? Though faithless ones can, for carnal lusts, pawn, or mortgage, or sell what they have, and themselves outright to boot; yet they that have faith, saving faith, though but a little of it, cannot do so. Here, therefore, my brother, is thy mistake.

HOPE. I acknowledge it; but yet your severe reflection had almost made me angry.[252]

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

HOPE. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am persuaded in my heart, are but a company of cowards;[253] would they have run else, think you, as they did, at the noise of one that was coming on the road? Why did not Little-faith pluck up a greater heart? He might, methinks, Have stood one brush with them, and have yielded when there had been no remedy.

CHR. That they are cowards, many have said, but few have found it so in the time of trial. As for a great heart, Littlefaith had none; and I perceive by thee, my brother, hadst thou been the man concerned, thou art but for a brush, and then to yield. And, verily, since this is the height of thy stomach, now they are at a distance from us, should they appear to thee as they did to him, they might put thee to second thoughts.

But, consider again, they are but journeymen thieves, they serve under the king of the bottomless pit, who, if need be, will come in to their aid himself, and his voice is as the roaring of a lion (Ps 7:2; 1Pe 5:8). I myself have been engaged as this Little-faith was, and I found it a terrible thing. These three villains set upon me, and I beginning, like a Christian, to resist, they gave but a call, and in came their master. I would, as the saying is, have given my life for a penny; but that, as God would have it, I was clothed with armour of proof. Aye, and yet, though I was so harnessed, I found it hard work to quit myself like a man. No man can tell what in that combat attends us, but he that hath been in the battle himself.[254]

HOPE. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did but suppose that one Great-grace was in the way.[255]

CHR. True, they have often fled, both they and their master, when Great-grace hath but appeared; and no marvel; for he is the King's Champion. But, I trow,[256] you will put some difference betwixt Little-faith and the King's Champion. All the King's subjects are not His champions, nor can they, when tried, do such feats of war as he. Is it meet to think that a little child should handle Goliath as David did? Or that there should be the strength of an ox in a wren? Some are strong, some are weak; some have great faith, some have little. This man was one of the weak, and therefore he went to the wall.

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

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

Whoso looks well upon Great-grace's face, shall see those scars and cuts there, that shall easily give demonstration of what I say. Yea, once I heard that he should say (and that when he was in the combat), "We despaired even of life."[257] How did these sturdy rogues and their fellows make David groan, mourn, and roar? Yea, Heman and Hezekiah, too, though champions in their day, were forced to bestir them, when by these assaulted; and yet, notwithstanding, they had their coats soundly brushed by them. Peter, upon a time, would go try what he could do; but though some do say of him that he is the prince of the apostles, they handled him so, that they made him at last afraid of a sorry girl.

Besides, their king is at their whistle. He is never out of hearing; and if at any time they be put to the worst, he, if possible, comes in to help them; and of him it is said, "The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold; the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon: he esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood. The arrow cannot make him flee; sling stones are turned with him into stubble. Darts are counted as stubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear" (Job 12:25). What can a man do in this case? It is true, if a man could, at every turn, have Job's horse, and had skill and courage to ride him, he might do notable things; "for his neck is clothed with thunder, he will not be afraid of the grasshopper; the glory of his nostrils is terrible; he paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength, he goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted, neither turneth he back from the sword. The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear, and the shield. He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage, neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha! and he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting" (Job 34:19-25).

But for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never desire to meet with an enemy, nor vaunt as if we could do better, when we hear of others that they have been toiled, nor be tickled at the thoughts of our own manhood; for such commonly come by the worst when tried.[258] Witness Peter, of whom I made mention before. He would swagger, aye, he would; he would, as his vain mind prompted him to say, do better, and stand more for his Master than all men; but who so foiled, and run down by these villains, as he?[259]

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

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

2. It is good, also, that we desire of the King a convoy,[260] yea, that he will go with us Himself. This made David rejoice when in the Valley of the Shadow of Death; and Moses was rather for dying where he stood, than to go one step without his God (Ex 33:15). 0 my brother, if He will but go along with us, what need we be afraid of ten thousands that shall set themselves against us? (Ps 3:5-8; 27:1-3). But, without Him, the proud helpers "fall under the slain" (Isa 10:4).

I, for my part, have been in the fray before now; and though, through the goodness of Him that is best, I am, as you see, alive; yet I cannot boast of my manhood: Glad shall I be, if I meet with no more such brunts; though, I fear, we are not got beyond all danger[261] However, since the lion and the bear have not as yet devoured me, I hope God will also deliver us from the next uncircumcised Philistine. Then sang Christian-

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

So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They went then till they came at a place where they saw a way put itself into their way, and seemed withal to lie as straight as the way which they should go; and here they knew not which of the two to take, for both seemed straight before them; therefore, here they stood still to consider. And as they were thinking about the way, behold a man, black of flesh, but covered with a very light robe, came to them, and asked them why they stood there.[262] They answered, they were going to the Celestial City, but knew not which of these ways to take. Follow me, said the man, it is thither that I am going. So they followed him in the way that but now came into the road, which by degrees turned, and turned them so from the city that they desired to go to, that, in little time, their faces were turned away from it; yet they followed him. But by and by, before they were aware, he led them both within the compass of a net, in which they were both so entangled, that they knew not what to do; and with that the white robe fell off the black man's back. Then they saw where they were. Wherefore, there they lay crying some time, for they could not get themselves out.[263]

CHR. Then said Christian to his fellow, Now do I see myself in an error. Did not the Shepherds bid us beware of the flatterers? As is the saying of the wise man, so we have found it this day, "A man that flattereth his neighbour, spreadeth a net for his feet" (Pr 29:5).

HOPE. They also gave us a note of directions about the way, for our more sure finding thereof; but therein we have also forgotten to read, and have not kept ourselves from the paths of the destroyer. Here David was wiser than we; for, saith he, "Concerning the works of men, by the word of thy lips, I have kept me from the paths of the destroyer" (Ps 16:4). Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the net. At last they espied a Shining One coming towards them, with a whip of small cord in his hand. When he was come to the place where they were, he asked them whence they came, and what they did there. They told him that they were poor pilgrims going to Zion, but were led out of their way by a black man, clothed in white, who bid us, said they, follow him, for he was going thither too. Then said he with the whip, It is Flatterer, a false apostle, that hath transformed himself into an angel of light (Pr 29:5; Da 11:32; 2Co 11:13-14). So he rent the net, and let the men out. Then said he to them, Follow me, that I may set you in your way again. So he led them back to the way which they had left to follow the Flatterer. Then he asked them, saying, Where did you lie the last night? They said, With the Shepherds, upon the Delectable Mountains. He asked them then, if they had not of those Shepherds a note of direction for the way. They answered, Yes. But did you, said he, when you were at a stand, pluck out and read your note? They answered, No. He asked them, Why? They said, they forgot. He asked, moreover, if the Shepherds did not bid them beware of the Flatterer. They answered, Yes, but we did not imagine, said they, that this fine-spoken man had been he[264] (Ro 16:18).

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

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

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

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

CHR. We are going to the Mount Zion.

Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter.

CHR. What is the meaning of your laughter?

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

CHR. Why, man, do you think we shall not be received?

ATHEIST. Received! There is no such place as you dream of in all this world. [265]

CHR. But there is in the world to come.

ATHEIST. When I was at home in mine own country, I heard as you now affirm, and from that hearing went out to see, and have been seeking this city this 20 years; but find no more of it than I did the first day I set out (Jer 22:12; Ec 10:15).

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

ATHEIST. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had not come thus far to seek; but finding none (and yet I should, had there been such a place to be found, for I have gone to seek it further than you), I am going back again, and will seek to refresh myself with the things that I then cast away, for hopes of that which, I now see, is not. [266]

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

HOPE. Take heed, he is one of the flatterers; remember what it hath cost us once already for our hearkening to such kind of fellows. What! no Mount Zion? Did we not see, from the Delectable Mountains, the gate of the city?[267] Also, are we not now to walk by faith? Let us go on, said Hopeful, lest the man with the whip overtake us again[268] (2Co 5:7).

You should have taught me that lesson, which I will round[269] you in the ears withal: "Cease, my son, to hear the instruction that causeth to err from the words of knowledge" (Pr 19:17). I say, my brother, cease to hear him, and let us "believe to the saving of the soul" (Heb 10:39).

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

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

I saw then in my dream, that they went till they came into a certain country, whose air naturally tended to make one drowsy, if he came a stranger into it. And here Hopeful began to be very dull and heavy of sleep; wherefore he said unto Christian, I do now begin to grow so drowsy that I can scarcely hold up mine eyes; let us lie down here, and take one nap.[270]

CHR. By no means, said the other; lest, sleeping, we never awake more.

HOPE. Why, my brother? Sleep is sweet to the labouring man; we may be refreshed if we take a nap.[271]

CHR. Do you not remember that one of the Shepherds bid us beware of the Enchanted Ground?[272] He meant by that, that we should beware of sleeping; "Therefore let us not sleep, as do others, but let us watch and be sober" [273] (1Th 5:6).

HOPE. I acknowledge myself in a fault; and had I been here alone, I had by sleeping run the danger of death. I see it is true that the wise man saith, "Two are better than one." Hitherto hath thy company been my mercy, and thou shalt have a good reward for thy labour. (Ec 4:9).

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

HOPE. With all my heart, said the other.

CHR. Where shall we begin?

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

CHR. I will sing you first this song-

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

CHR. Then Christian began, and said, I will ask you a question. How came you to think at first of so doing as you do now?

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

CHR. Yes, that is my meaning.

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

CHR. What things were they?

HOPE. All the treasures and riches of the world. Also I delighted much in rioting, revelling, drinking, swearing, lying, uncleanness, Sabbath breaking, and what not, that tended to destroy the soul. But I found at last, by hearing and considering of things that are Divine, which indeed I heard of you, as also of beloved Faithful, that was put to death for his faith and good living in Vanity Fair, that "the end of these things is death" (Re 6:17). And that for these things' sake, "cometh the wrath of God upon the children of disobedience" (Eph 5:6).

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

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

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

HOPE. The causes were, 1. I was ignorant that this was the work of God upon me. I never thought that by awakenings for sin, God at first begins the conversion of a sinner. 2. Sin was yet very sweet to my flesh, and I was loath to leave it. 3. I could not tell how to part with mine old companions, their presence and actions were so desirable unto me. 4. The hours in which convictions were upon me, were such troublesome and such heart-affrighting hours, that I could not bear, no not so much as the remembrance of them upon my heart.[274]

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

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

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

HOPE. Many things; as,

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

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

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

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

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

6.    If I thought of dying myself; or,

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

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

CHR. And could you at any time, with ease, get off the guilt of sin,[275] when, by any of these ways, it came upon you?

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

CHR. And how did you do then?

HOPE. I thought I must endeavour to mend my life; for else, thought I, I am sure to be damned.

CHR. And did you endeavour to mend?

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

CHR. And did you think yourself well then?

HOPE. Yes, for a while; but, at the last, my trouble came tumbling upon me again, and that over the neck of all my reformations.

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

HOPE. There were several things brought it upon me, especially such sayings as these: "All our righteousnesses are as filthy rags" (Isa 64:6). "By the works of the law shall no flesh be justified" (Ga 2:16). "When ye shall have done all those things, say, We are unprofitable" (Lu 17:10); with many more such like. From whence I began to reason with myself thus: If ALL my righteousnesses are filthy rags; if, by the deeds of the law, NO man can be justified; and if, when we have done ALL, we are yet unprofitable, then it is but a folly to think of Heaven by the law. I further thought thus: If a man runs a hundred pounds into the shopkeeper's debt, and after that shall pay for all that he shall fetch; yet, if this old debt stands still in the book uncrossed, for that the shopkeeper may sue him, and cast him into prison till he shall pay the debt.

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

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

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

HOPE. Another thing that hath troubled me, even since my late amendments, is, that if I look narrowly into the best of what I do now, I still see sin, new sin, mixing itself with the best of that I do; so that now I am forced to conclude, that notwithstanding my former fond conceits of myself and duties, I have committed sin enough in one duty to send me to hell,[276] though my former life had been faultless.[277]

CHR. And what did you do then?

HOPE. Do! I could not tell what to do, until I brake my mind to Faithful, for he and I were well acquainted. And he told me, that unless I could obtain the righteousness of a man that never had sinned, neither mine own, nor all the righteousness of the world, could save me.

CHR. And did you think he spake true?

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

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

HOPE. I must confess the words at first sounded strangely, but after a little more talk and company with him, I had full conviction about it.

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

HOPE. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, that dwelleth on the right hand of the Most High. And thus, said he, you must be justified by Him, even by trusting to what He hath done by Himself in the days of His flesh, and suffered when He did hang on the tree. I asked him further, how that man's righteousness could be of that efficacy to justify another before God? And he told me He was the mighty God, and did what He did, and died the death also, not for Himself, but for me; to whom His doings, and the worthiness of them, should be imputed, if I believed on Him (Heb 10; Ro 4; Col 1; 1Pe 1).

CHR. And what did you do then?

HOPE. I made my objections against my believing, for that I thought He was not willing to save me.

CHR. And what said Faithful to you then?

HOPE. He bid me go to Him and see. Then I said it was presumption; but he said, No, for I was invited to come (Mt 11:28). Then he gave me a book of Jesus, His inditing, to encourage me the more freely to come; and he said, concerning that book, that every jot and tittle thereof stood firmer than Heaven and earth (Mt 24:35). Then I asked him, What I must do when I came; and he told me, I must entreat upon my knees, with all my heart and soul, the Father to reveal Him to me (Ps 95:6; Da 6:10; Jer 29:12-13). Then I asked him further, how I must make my supplication to Him? And he said, Go, and thou shalt find Him upon a mercy-seat, where He sits all the year long, to give pardon and forgiveness to them that come. I told him that I knew not what to say when I came. And he bid me say to this effect, God be merciful to me a sinner, and make me to know and believe in Jesus Christ; for I see, that if His righteousness had not been, or I have not faith in that righteousness, I am utterly cast away.[278] Lord, I have heard that Thou art a merciful God, and hast ordained that Thy Son Jesus Christ should be the Saviour of the world; and moreover, that thou art willing to bestow Him upon such a poor sinner as I am (and I am a sinner indeed), Lord, take therefore this opportunity, and magnify Thy grace in the salvation of my soul, through Thy Son Jesus Christ. Amen. (Ex 25:22; Le 16:2; Nu 7:89; Heb 4:16).

CHR. And did you do as you were bidden?

HOPE. Yes; over, and over, and over.

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

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

CHR. What did you do then?

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

CHR. Had you not thoughts of leaving off praying?

HOPE. Yes, a hundred times twice told.

CHR. And what was the reason you did not?

HOPE. I believed that that was true which had been told me, to wit, that without the righteousness of this Christ, all the world could not save me; and therefore, thought I with myself, if I leave off I die, and I can but die at the throne of grace. And withal, this came into my mind, "Though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry" (Hab 2:3). So I continued praying until the Father showed me His Son.[279]

CHR. And how was He revealed unto you?

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

But I replied, Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner. And He answered, "My grace is sufficient for thee"[280] (2Co 12:9). Then I said, But, Lord, what is believing? And then I saw from that saying, "He that cometh to Me shall never hunger, and he that believeth on Me shall never thirst"; that believing and coming was all one; and that he that came, that is, ran out in his heart and affections after salvation by Christ, he indeed believed in Christ (Joh 6:35). Then the water stood in mine eyes, and I asked further, But, Lord, may such a great sinner as I am, be indeed accepted of Thee, and be saved by Thee? And I heard him say, "And him that cometh to Me, I will in no wise cast out" (Joh 6:37). Then I said, But how, Lord, must I consider of Thee in my coming to Thee, that my faith may be placed aright upon Thee? Then He said, "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners" (1Ti 1:15). "He is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth" (Ro 10:4). "He died for our sins, and rose again for our justification" (Ro 4:25). "He loved us, and washed us from our sins in His own blood" (Re 1:5). "He is mediator betwixt God and us" (1Ti 2:5). "He ever liveth to make intercession for us" (Heb 7:25). From all which I gathered, that I must look for righteousness in His person, and for satisfaction for my sins by His blood; that what He did in obedience to His Father's law, and in submitting to the penalty thereof, was not for Himself, but for him that will accept it for his salvation, and be thankful. And now was my heart full of joy, mine eyes full of tears, and mine affections running over with love to the name, people, and ways of Jesus Christ.[281]

CHR. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul indeed; but tell me particularly what effect this had upon your spirit.[282]

HOPE. It made me see that all the world, notwithstanding all the righteousness thereof, is in a state of condemnation. It made me see that God the Father, though He be just, can justly justify the coming sinner. It made me greatly ashamed of the vileness of my former life, and confounded me with the sense of mine own ignorance; for there never came thought into my heart before now, that showed me so the beauty of Jesus Christ. It made me love a holy life, and long to do something for the honour and glory of the name of the Lord Jesus; yea, I thought that had I now a thousand gallons of blood in my body, I could spill it all for the sake of the Lord Jesus.[283]

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

CHR. Aye, aye, I see him; he careth not for our company.

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

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

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

Then Christian said to him, Come away, man, why do you stay so behind?

IGNOR. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even more a great deal than in company, unless I like it the better[284]

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

IGNOR. I hope well; for I am always full of good motions, that come into my mind, to comfort me as I walk (Pr 28:26).

CHR. What good motions? pray, tell us.

IGNOR. Why, I think of God and Heaven.

CHR. So do the devils and damned souls.

IGNOR. But I think of them, and desire them.[285]

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

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

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

IGNOR. My heart tells me so.

CHR. The wise man says, "He that trusts his own heart is a fool"[286] (Pr 28:26).

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

CHR. But how dost thou prove that?

IGNOR. It comforts me in hopes of Heaven.

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

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

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

IGNOR. My heart tells me so.

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

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

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

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

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

IGNOR. What be good thoughts respecting ourselves?

CHR. Such as agree with the Word of God.

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

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

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

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

IGNOR. Make out your meaning.

CHR. Why, the Word of God saith that man's ways are crooked ways; not good, but perverse (Ps 125; Pr 2:15). It saith they are naturally out of the good way, that they have not known it (Ro 3). Now, when a man thus thinketh of his ways; I say, when he doth sensibly, and with heart humiliation, thus think, then hath he good thoughts of his own ways, because his thoughts now agree with the judgment of the Word of God.[287]

IGNOR. What are good thoughts concerning God?

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

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

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

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

CHR. How! think thou must believe in Christ, when thou seest not thy need of Him! Thou neither seest thy original nor actual infirmities; but hast such an opinion of thyself, and of what thou dost, as plainly renders thee to be one that did never see a necessity of Christ's personal righteousness to justify thee before God.[288] How, then, dost thou say, I believe in Christ?

IGNOR. I believe well enough for all that.

CHR. How dost thou believe?

IGNOR. I believe that Christ died for sinners; and that I shall be justified before God from the curse, through His gracious acceptance of my obedience to His law. Or thus, Christ makes my duties, that are religious, acceptable to His Father, by virtue of His merits; and so shall I be justified.[289]

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

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

2.    Thou believest with a false faith; because it taketh justification from the personal righteousness of Christ, and applies it to thy own.[290]

3.    This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of thy person, but of thy actions; and of thy person for thy actions' sake, which is false.[291]

4.    Therefore, this faith is deceitful, even such as will leave thee under wrath, in the day of God Almighty; for true justifying faith puts the soul, as sensible of its lost condition by the law, upon flying for refuge unto Christ's righteousness, which righteousness of His is not an act of grace, by which He maketh, for justification, thy obedience accepted with God; but His personal obedience to the law, in doing and suffering for us what that required at our hands; this righteousness, I say, true faith accepteth; under the skirt of which, the soul being shrouded, and by it presented as spotless before God, it is accepted, and acquit from condemnation.[292]

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

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

HOPE. Ask him if ever he had Christ revealed to him from Heaven.[293]

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

HOPE. Why, man! Christ is so hid in God from the natural apprehensions of the flesh, that He cannot by any man be savingly known, unless God the Father reveals Him to them.[294]

IGNOR. That is your faith, but not mine; yet mine, I doubt not, is as good as yours, though I have not in my head so many whimsies as you.

CHR. Give me leave to put in a word. You ought not so slightly to speak of this matter; for this I will boldly affirm, even as my good companion hath done, that no man can know Jesus Christ but by the revelation of the Father (Mt 11:27); yea, and faith too, by which the soul layeth hold upon Christ, if it be right, must be wrought by the exceeding greatness of His mighty power; the working of which faith, I perceive, poor Ignorance, thou art ignorant of (1Co 12:3; Eph 1:18-19). Be awakened then, see thine own wretchedness, and fly to the Lord Jesus; and by His righteousness, which is the righteousness of God, for He Himself is God, thou shalt be delivered from condemnation.[295]

IGNOR. You go so fast, I cannot keep pace with you. Do you go on before; I must stay a while behind.[296]

Then they said-

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

Then Christian addressed thus himself to his fellow-

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

So I saw in my dream that they went on apace before, and Ignorance he came bobbling after. Then said Christian to his companion, It pities me much for this poor man, it will certainly go ill with him at last.

HOPE. Alas! there are abundance in our town in his condition, whole families, yea, whole streets, and that of pilgrims too; and if there be so many in our parts, how many, think you, must there be in the place where he was born?

CHR. Indeed the Word saith, "He hath blinded their eyes, lest they should see," &c. But now we are by ourselves, what do you think of such men? Have they at no time, think you, convictions of sin, and so consequently fears that their state is dangerous?

HOPE. Nay, do you answer that question yourself, for you are the elder man.

CHR. Then I say, sometimes (as I think) they may; but they being naturally ignorant, understand not that such convictions tend to their good; and therefore they do desperately seek to stifle them, and presumptuously continue to flatter themselves in the way of their own hearts.

HOPE. I do believe, as you say, that fear tends much to men's good, and to make them right, at their beginning to go on pilgrimage.

CHR. Without all doubt it doth, if it be right; for so says the Word, "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom"[297] (Pr 1:7; 9:10; Ps 111:10; Job 28:28).

HOPE. How will you describe right fear?

CHR. True or right fear is discovered by three things-

1.    By its rise; it is caused by saving convictions for sin.

2.    It driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for salvation.

3.    It begetteth and continueth in the soul a great reverence of God, his Word, and ways, keeping it tender, and making it afraid to turn from them, to the right hand or to the left, to anything, that may dishonour God, break its peace, grieve the Spirit, or cause the enemy to speak reproachfully.[298]

HOPE. Well said; I believe you have said the truth. Are we now almost got past the Enchanted Ground?

CHR. Why, art thou weary of this discourse?

HOPE. No, verily, but that I would know where we are.

CHR. We have not now above two miles further to go thereon. But let us return to our matter. Now the ignorant know not that such convictions as tend to put them in fear are for their good, and therefore they seek to stifle them.

HOPE. How do they seek to stifle them?

CHR. 1. They think that those fears are wrought by the devil (though indeed they are wrought of God); and, thinking so, they resist them as things that directly tend to their overthrow. 2. They also think that these fears tend to the spoiling of their faith, when, alas for them, poor men that they are, they have none at all! and therefore they harden their hearts against them. 3. They presume they ought not to fear; and therefore, in despite of them, wax presumptuously confident. 4. They see that those fears tend to take away from them their pitiful old self-holiness,[299] and therefore they resist them with all their might.

HOPE. I know something of this myself; for, before I knew myself, it was so with me.[300]

CHR. Well, we will leave, at this time, our neighbour Ignorance by himself, and fall upon another profitable question.

HOPE. With all my heart, but you shall still begin.

CHR. Well then, did you not know, about 10 years ago, one Temporary in your parts, who was a forward man in religion then?[301]

HOPE. Know him! yes, he dwelt in Graceless, a town about two miles off of Honesty, and he dwelt next door to one Turnback.

CHR. Right, he dwelt under the same roof with him. Well, that man was much awakened once; I believe that then he had some sight of his sins, and of the wages that were due thereto.

HOPE. I am of your mind, for, my house not being above three miles from him, he would ofttimes come to me, and that with many tears. Truly I pitied the man, and was not altogether without hope of him; but one may see, it is not every one that cries, Lord, Lord.

CHR. He told me once that he was resolved to go on pilgrimage, as we do now; but all of a sudden he grew acquainted with one Save-self, and then he became a stranger to me.

HOPE. Now, since we are talking about him, let us a little inquire into the reason of the sudden backsliding of him and such others.

CHR. It may be very profitable, but do you begin.

HOPE. Well then, there are in my judgment four reasons for it-

1. Though the consciences of such men are awakened, yet their minds are not changed; therefore, when the power of guilt weareth away, that which provoked them to be religious ceaseth, wherefore they naturally turn to their own course again, even as we see the dog that is sick of what he has eaten, so long as his sickness prevails, he vomits and casts up all; not that he doth this of a free mind (if we may say a dog has a mind), but because it troubleth his stomach; but now, when his sickness is over, and so his stomach eased, his desire being not at all alienate from his vomit, he turns him about and licks up all, and so it is true which is written, "The dog is turned to his own vomit again" (2Pe 2:22).[302] Thus I say, being hot for Heaven, by virtue only of the sense and fear of the torments of hell, as their sense of hell, and the fears of damnation, chills and cools, so their desires for Heaven and salvation cool also. So then it comes to pass, that when their guilt and fear is gone, their desires for Heaven and happiness die, and they return to their course again.[303]

2.      Another reason is, they have slavish fears that do overmaster them; I speak now of the fears that they have of men, for "the fear of man bringeth a snare" (Pr 29:25). So then, though they seem to be hot for Heaven, so long as the flames of hell are about their ears, yet, when that terror is a little over, they betake themselves to second thoughts; namely, that it is good to be wise, and not to run (for they know not what) the hazard of losing all, or, at least, of bringing themselves into unavoidable and unnecessary troubles, and so they fall in with the world again.

3.      The shame that attends religion lies also as a block in their way; they are proud and haughty, and religion in their eye is low and contemptible; therefore, when they have lost their sense of hell and wrath to come, they return again to their former course.

4.      Guilt, and to meditate terror, are grievous to them. They like not to see their misery before they come into it; though perhaps the sight of it first, if they loved that sight, might make them fly whither the righteous fly and are safe. But because they do, as I hinted before, even shun the thoughts of guilt and terror, therefore, when once they are rid of their awakenings about the terrors and wrath of God, they harden their hearts gladly, and choose such ways as will harden them more and more.

CHR. You are pretty near the business, for the bottom of all is, for want of a change in their mind and will. And therefore they are but like the felon that standeth before the judge, he quakes and trembles, and seems to repent most heartily, but the bottom of all is the fear of the halter; not that he hath any detestation of the offence, as is evident, because, let but this man have his liberty, and he will be a thief, and so a rogue still, whereas, if his mind were changed, he would be otherwise.

HOPE. Now, I have showed you the reasons of their going back, do you show me the manner thereof.[304]

CHR. So I will, willingly.

1.    They draw off their thoughts, all that they may, from the remembrance of God, death, and judgment to come.

2.    Then they cast off by degrees private duties, as closet prayer, curbing their lusts, watching, sorrow for sin, and the like.

3.    Then they shun the company of lively and warm Christians.

4.    After that, they grow cold to public duty, as hearing, reading, godly conference, and the like.

5.    Then they begin to pick holes, as we say, in the coats of some of the godly; and that devilishly, that they may have a seeming colour to throw religion (for the sake of some infirmity they have espied in them) behind their backs.

6.    Then they begin to adhere to, and associate themselves with, carnal, loose, and wanton men.

7.    Then they give way to carnal and wanton discourses in secret; and glad are they if they can see such things in any that are counted honest, that they may the more boldly do it through their example.

8.    After this, they begin to play with little sins openly.

9.    And then, being hardened, they show themselves as they are. Thus, being launched again into the gulf of misery, unless a miracle of grace prevent it, they everlastingly perish in their own deceivings.[305]

Now I saw in my dream, that by this time the Pilgrims were got over the Enchanted Ground, and entering into the country of Beulah, whose air was very sweet and pleasant, the way lying directly through it, they solaced themselves there for a season (Isa 62:4). Yea, here they heard continually the singing of birds, and saw every day the flowers appear in the earth, and heard the voice of the turtle in the land (Song 2:10-12). In this country the sun shineth night and day; wherefore this was beyond the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach of Giant Despair, neither could they from this place so much as see Doubting Castle.[306] Here they were within sight of the city they were going to, also here met them some of the inhabitants thereof; for in this land the Shining Ones commonly walked, because it was upon the borders of Heaven. In this land also the contract between the bride and the bridegroom was renewed; yea, here, "As the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so did their God rejoice over them" (Isa 62:5). Here they had no want of corn and wine; for in this place they met with abundance of what they had sought for in all their pilgrimage (v. 8). Here they heard voices from out of the city, loud voices, saying, "Say ye to the daughter of Zion, Behold, thy salvation cometh! Behold, His reward is with Him!" (v. 11). Here all the inhabitants of the country called them, "The holy people, The redeemed of the Lord, Sought out," &c. (v. 12).

Now, as they walked in this land, they had more rejoicing than in parts more remote from the kingdom to which they were bound; and drawing near to the city, they had yet a more perfect view thereof. It was builded of pearls and precious stones, also the street thereof was paved with gold; so that by reason of the natural glory of the city, and the reflection of the sunbeams upon it, Christian with desire fell sick. Hopeful also had a fit or two of the same disease.[307] Wherefore, here they lay by it a while, crying out, because of their pangs, "If ye find my Beloved, tell Him that I am sick of love[308] (Song 5:8).

But being a little strengthened, and better able to bear their sickness, they walked on their way, and came yet nearer and nearer, where were orchards, vineyards, and gardens, and their gates opened into the highway. Now, as they came up to these places, behold, the gardener stood in the way, to whom the Pilgrims said, Whose goodly vineyards and gardens are these? He answered, They are the King's, and are planted here for His own delight, and also for the solace of pilgrims. So the gardener had them into the vineyards, and bid them refresh themselves with the dainties (De 23:24). He also showed them there the King's walks, and the arbours, where He delighted to be; and here they tarried and slept.[309]

Now I beheld in my dream, that they talked more in their sleep at this time than ever they did in all their journey; and being in a muse thereabout, the gardener said even to me, Wherefore musest thou at the matter? It is the nature of the fruit of the grapes of these vineyards to go down so sweetly, as to cause the lips of them that are asleep to speak.[310]

So I saw that when they awoke, they addressed themselves to go up to the city. But, as I said, the reflection of the sun upon the city (for "the city was pure gold)," (Re 21:18), was so extremely glorious, that they could not, as yet, with open face behold it, but through an instrument made for that purpose (2Co 3:18). So I saw, that as they went on, there met them two men, in raiment that shone like gold; also their faces shone as the light.[311]

These men asked the Pilgrims whence they came; and they told them. They also asked them where they had lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what comforts and pleasures they had met in the way; and they told them. Then said the men that met them, You have but two difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in the city.[312]

Christian then, and his companion, asked the men to go along with them; so they told them they would. But, said they, you must obtain it by your own faith. So I saw in my dream that they went on together, until they came in sight of the gate.

Now, I further saw, that betwixt them and the gate was a river, but there was no bridge to go over; the river was very deep. At the sight, therefore, of this river, the Pilgrims were much stunned: but the men that went with them said, You must go through, or you cannot come at the gate.[313]

The Pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other way to the gate; to which they answered, Yes; but there hath not any, save two, to wit, Enoch and Elijah, been permitted to tread that path, since the foundation of the world, nor shall, until the last trumpet shall sound (1Co 15:51-52). The Pilgrims then, especially Christian, began to despond in their minds, and looked this way and that, but no way could be found by them, by which they might escape the river[314] Then they asked the men if the waters were all of a depth. They said, No; yet they could not help them in that case; for, said they, you shall find it deeper or shallower, as you believe in the King of the place.

They then addressed themselves to the water; and entering, Christian began to sink, and crying out to his good friend Hopeful, he said, I sink in deep waters; the billows go over my head, all his waves go over me! Selah.[315]

Then said the other, Be of good cheer, my brother, I feel the bottom, and it is good. Then, said Christian, Ah! my friend, "the sorrows of death have compassed me about"; I shall not see the land that flows with milk and honey; and with that a great darkness and horror fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him. Also here he in great measure lost his senses, so that he could neither remember, nor orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments that he had met with in the way of his pilgrimage. But all the words that he spake still tended to discover that he had horror of mind, and heart fears that he should die in that river, and never obtain entrance in at the gate. Here also, as they that stood by perceived, he was much in the troublesome thoughts of the sins that he had committed, both since and before he began to be a pilgrim. It was also observed that he was troubled with apparitions of hobgoblins and evil spirits; for ever and anon he would intimate so much by words.[316] Hopeful, therefore, here had much ado to keep his brother's head above water; yea, sometimes he would be quite gone down, and then, ere awhile, he would rise up again half dead. Hopeful also would endeavour to comfort him, saying, Brother, I see the gate, and men standing by to receive us; but Christian would answer, It is you, it is you they wait for; you have been Hopeful ever since I knew you.[317] And so have you, said he to Christian. Ah, brother! said he, surely if I were right He would now arise to help me; but for my sins He hath brought me into the snare, and hath left me. Then said Hopeful, My brother, you have quite forgot the text, where it is said of the wicked, "There are no bands in their death; but their strength is firm. They are not in trouble as other men, neither are they plagued like other men (Ps 73:4-5). These troubles and distresses that you go through in these waters are no sign that God hath forsaken you; but are sent to try you, whether you will call to mind that which heretofore you have received of His goodness, and live upon Him in your distresses.[318] Then I saw in my dream, that Christian was as in a muse a while. To whom also Hopeful added this word, Be of good cheer, Jesus Christ maketh thee whole;[319] and with that Christian brake out with a loud voice, 0! I see Him again, and He tells me, "When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee" (Isa 43:2). Then they both took courage, and the enemy was after that as still as a stone, until they were gone over. Christian therefore presently found ground to stand upon, and so it followed that the rest of the river was but shallow. Thus they got over[320] Now, upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they saw the two shining men again, who there waited for them; wherefore, being come out of the river, they saluted them, saying, We are ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for those that shall be heirs of salvation. Thus they went along towards the gate.[321] Now you must note that the city stood upon a mighty hill, but the Pilgrims went up that hill with ease, because they had these two men to lead them up by the arms; also, they had left their mortal garments behind them in the river, for though they went in with them, they came out without them. They, therefore, went up here with much agility and speed, though the foundation upon which the city was framed was higher than the clouds.[322] They, therefore, went up through the regions of the air, sweetly talking as they went, being comforted, because they safely got over the river, and had such glorious companions to attend them.[323]

The talk they had with the Shining Ones was about the glory of the place; who told them that the beauty and glory of it was inexpressible. There, said they, is the "Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect" (Heb 12:22-24). You are going now, said they, to the paradise of God, wherein you shall see the tree of life, and eat of the never-fading fruits thereof; and when you come there, you shall have white robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be every day with the King, even all the days of eternity (Re 2:7; 3:4; 22:5). There you shall not see again such things as you saw when you were in the lower region upon the earth, to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death, "for the former things are passed away." You are now going to Abraham, to Isaac, and Jacob, and to the prophets-men that God hath taken away from the evil to come, and that are now resting upon their beds, each one walking in his righteousness[324] (Isa 57:1-2; 65:17). The men then asked, What must we do in the holy place? To whom it was answered, You must there receive the comforts of all your toil, and have joy for all your sorrow; you must reap what you have sown, even the fruit of all your prayers, and tears, and sufferings for the King by the way (Ga 6:7). In that place you must wear crowns of gold, and enjoy the perpetual sight and vision of the Holy One, for "there you shall see Him as He is" (1Jo 3:2). There also you shall serve Him continually with praise, with shouting and thanksgiving, whom you desired to serve in the world, though with much difficulty, because of the infirmity of your flesh. There your eyes shall be delighted with seeing, and your ears with hearing the pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There you shall enjoy your friends again, that are gone thither before you; and there you shall with joy receive, even every one that follows into the holy place after you. There also shall you be clothed with glory and majesty, and put into an equipage fit to ride out with the King of glory. When He shall come with sound of trumpet in the clouds, as upon the wings of the wind, you shall come with Him; and when He shall sit upon the throne of judgment, you shall sit by Him; yea, and when He shall pass sentence upon all the workers of iniquity, let them be angels or men, you also shall have a voice in that judgment, because they were His and your enemies (1Th 4:13-17; Jude 14; Da 7:9-10; 1Co 6:2-3). Also when He shall again return to the city, you shall go too, with sound of trumpet, and be ever with Him.

Now, while they were thus drawing towards the gate, behold a company of the heavenly host came out to meet them; to whom it was said, by the other two Shining Ones, These are the men that have loved our Lord when they were in the world, and that have left all for His holy name; and He hath sent us to fetch them, and we have brought them thus far on their desired journey, that they may go in and look their Redeemer in the face with joy. Then the heavenly host gave a great shout, saying, "Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb" (Re 19:9). There came out also at this time to meet them, several of the King's trumpeters, clothed in white and shining raiment, who, with melodious noises, and loud, made even the heavens to echo with their sound. These trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with 10,000 welcomes from the world; and this they did with shouting, and sound of trumpet.

This done, they compassed them round on every side; some went before, some behind, and some on the right hand, some on the left (as it were to guard them through the upper regions), continually sounding as they went, with melodious noise, in notes on high; so that the very sight was to them that could behold it, as if Heaven itself was come down to meet them.[325] Thus, therefore, they walked on together; and as they walked, ever and anon these trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, by mixing their music with looks and gestures, still signify to Christian and his brother, how welcome they were into their company, and with what gladness they came to meet them; and now were these two men, as it were, in Heaven, before they came at it, being swallowed up with the sight of angels, and with hearing of their melodious notes. Here also they had the city itself in view, and they thought they heard all the bells therein to ring, to welcome them thereto. But above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there, with such company, and that forever and ever. 0 by what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be expressed![326] And thus they came up to the gate.

Now, when they were come up to the gate, there was written over it in letters of gold, "Blessed are they that do His commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city" (Re 22:14).

Then I saw in my dream, that the Shining Men bid them call at the gate; the which, when they did, some looked from above over the gate, to wit, Enoch, Moses, and Elijah, &c., to whom it was said, These pilgrims are come from the City of Destruction, for the love that they bear to the King of this place; and then the pilgrims gave in unto them each man his certificate,[327] which they had received in the beginning; those, therefore, were carried into the King, who, when He had read them, said, Where are the men? To whom it was answered, They are standing without the gate. The King then commanded to open the gate, "That the righteous nation," said He, "which keepeth the truth, may enter in"[328] (Isa 26:2).

Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in at the gate; and lo, as they entered, they were transfigured, and they had raiment put on that shone like gold. There were also that met them with harps and crowns, and gave them to them-the harps to praise withal, and the crowns in token of honour. Then I heard in my dream that all the bells in the city rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them, "ENTER YE INTO THE JOY OF YOUR LORD."[329] I also heard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice, saying, "BLESSING, AND HONOUR, AND GLORY, AND POWER, BE UNTO HIM THAT SITTETH UPON THE THRONE, AND UNTO THE LAMB, FOREVER AND EVER" (Re 5:13).

Now just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after them, and, behold, the City shone like the sun; the streets also were paved with gold, and in them walked many men, with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises withal. There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another without intermission, saying, "Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord" (Re 4:8). And after that, they shut up the gates; which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them.

Now while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my head to look back, and saw Ignorance come up to the river side; but he soon got over, and that without half that difficulty which the other two men met with.[330] For it happened that there was then in that place, one Vain-hope,[331] a ferryman, that with his boat helped him over; so he, as the other I saw, did ascend the hill, to come up to the gate, only he came alone; neither did any man meet him with the least encouragement. When he was come up to the gate, he looked up to the writing that was above, and then began to knock, supposing that entrance should have been quickly administered to him; but he was asked by the men that looked over the top of the gate, Whence came you? and what would you have? He answered, I have eat and drank in the presence of the King, and He has taught in our streets. Then they asked him for his certificate, that they might go in and show it to the King; so he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found none. Then said they, Have you none? But the man answered never a word. So they told the King, but He would not come down to see him, but commanded the two Shining Ones that conducted Christian and Hopeful to the City, to go out and take Ignorance, and bind him hand and foot, and have him away. Then they took him up, and carried him through the air, to the door that I saw in the side of the hill, and put him in there. Then I saw that there was a way to hell, even from the gates of Heaven, as well as from the City of Destruction![332] So I awoke, and behold it was a dream.


Now, READER, I have told my dream to thee; See if thou canst interpret it to me, Or to thyself, or neighbour; but take heed Of misinterpreting; for that, instead Of doing good, will but thyself abuse: By misinterpreting, evil ensues.

Take heed also, that thou be not extreme, In playing with the outside of my dream: Nor let my figure or similitude Put thee into a laughter or a feud. Leave this for boys and fools; but as for thee, Do thou the substance of my matter see.

Put by the curtains, look within my veil, Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail; There, if thou seekest them, such things to find, As will be helpful to an honest mind.

What of my dross thou findest there, be bold To throw away, but yet preserve the gold; What if my gold be wrapped up in ore?- None throws away the apple for the core. But if thou shalt cast all away as vain, I know not but 'twill make me dream again.




[1]   The jail. Mr. Bunyan wrote this precious book in Bedford jail, where he was imprisoned 12 years for preaching the Gospel. His bonds were those of the Gospel; and, like Peter, he could sleep soundly in prison. Blessed be God for even the toleration and religious privileges we now enjoy in consequence of it. Our author, thus prevented from preaching, turned his thoughts to writing; and, during his confinement, composed "The Pilgrim's Progress," and many other useful works. Thus the Lord causes "the wrath of man to praise Him." The servants of Christ, when restrained by wicked laws from publishing the word of life from the pulpit, have become more abundantly useful by their writings-(G. Burder).

[2]   You will observe what honour, from his Pilgrim's first setting out, Bunyan puts upon the Word of God. He would give to no inferior instrumentality, not even to one of God's providences, the business of awakening his Pilgrim to a sense of his danger; but he places him before us reading his book, awakened by the Word. And he makes the first efficacious motive in the mind of this Pilgrim a salutary fear of the terrors of that Word, a sense of the wrath to come, beneath the burden of sin upon his soul-(Cheever, Lect. 6). The alarms of such an awakened soul are very different from the terrors of superstitious ignorance, which, arising from fright or danger, are easily quitted, with the silly mummeries of priestcraft (Andronicus).

[3]   "What shall I do?" This is his first exclamation. He has not as yet advanced so far as to say, What shall I do to be saved?-(Cheever, Lect. 6).

[4]        Sometimes I have been so loaden with my sins, that I could not tell where to rest, nor what to do; yea, at such times, I thought it would have taken away my senses-(Bunyan's Law and Grace). [5] See the picture of a true penitent; a deep sense of danger, and solemn concern for his immortal soul, and for his wife and children; clothed with rags; his face turned from his house; studying the Bible with intense interest; a great burden on his back; praying; "the remembrance of his sins is grievous, and the burden of them is intolerable." Reader, have you felt this?-(Dr. Dodd).

[6]   Reader! be persuaded to pause a moment, and ask yourself the question-What is my case? Did I ever feel a deep concern about my soul? Did I ever see my danger as a sinner? Did I ever exclaim, in the agony of my spirit, "What must I do to be saved?" Be assured that real godliness begins in feeling the burden of sin-(G. Border).

[7]   The advice is to fly at once to Christ, and that he will then be told what to do. He is not told to get rid of his burden first, by reforming his life, and then to apply for further instruction to the Saviour-(J. B.).

[8]   When a sinner begins to fly from destruction, carnal relations will strive to prevent him; but the sinner who is in earnest for salvation will be deaf to invitations to go back. The more he is solicited by them, the faster he will fly from them-(Mason).

[9]   The names of these two

neighbours are admirably characteristic, not confined to any age or place, but always accompany the young convert to godliness, as the shadow does the substance. Christian is firm, decided, bold, and sanguine. Obstinate is profane, scornful, self-sufficient, and contemns God's Word. Pliable is yielding, and easily induced to engage in things of which he understands neither the nature nor the consequences-(Thomas Scott).

[10] Objection. If I would run as you would have me, then I must run from all my friends, for none of them are running that way. Answ. And if thou dost, thou wilt run into the bosom of Christ, and of God. And what harm will that do thee? Objec. But if I ran this way, I must run from all my sins. Answ. That's true indeed; yet if thou dost not, thou wilt run into hell-fire. Objec. But I shall be mocked of all my neighbours. Answ. But if thou lose the benefit of Heaven, God will mock at thy calamity. Objec. But, surely, I may begin this, time enough a year or two hence. Answ. Hast thou any lease of thy life? Did ever God tell thee thou shalt live half a year or two months longer? Art thou a wise man to let thy immortal soul hang over hell by a thread of uncertain time, which may soon be cut asunder by death?-(Bunyan's Preface to the Heavenly Footman).

[11]It is interesting to compare this account of Heaven with that which Bunyan gave in the Preface to his "Sighs from Hell," published 20 years before-"O sinner, sinner, there are better things than hell to be had, and at a cheaper rate by the thousandth part than that. 0 there is no comparison; there is Heaven, there is God, there is Christ, there is communion with an innumerable company of saints and angels"-(ED).

[12]Here you have another volume of meaning in a single touch of the pencil. Pliable is one of those who is willing, or think they are willing, to have Heaven, but without any sense of sin, or of the labour and self-denial necessary to enter Heaven. But now his heart is momentarily fired with Christian's ravishing descriptions, and as he seems to have nothing to trouble his conscience, and no difficulties to overcome, the pace of an honest, thorough inquirer, the movement of a soul sensible of its distresses and its sins, and desiring comfort only in the way of healing and of holiness, seems much too slow for him. He is for entering Heaven at once, going much faster than poor Christian can keep up with him. Then, said Christian, I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that is on my back-(Cheever). [13] Satan casts the professor into the mire, to the reproach of religion, the shame of their brethren, the derision of the world, and the dishonour of God. He holds our hands while the world buffets us. He puts bears' skins upon us, and then sets the dogs at us. He bedaubeth us with his own foam, and then tempts us to believe that that bedaubing comes from ourselves-(Good News to the Vilest of Men, vol. 1, P. 69). [14] Guilt is not so much a wind and a tempest, as a load and burden. The devil, and sin, and the curse of the law, and death, are gotten upon the shoulders of this poor man, and are treading of him down, that he may sink into, and be swallowed up of, his miry place (Job 41:30)-(Bunyan's Saints' Know ledge of Christ's Love, vol. 2, p. 6).

[15] In this Slough of Despond there were good and firm steps, sound promises to stand upon, a causeway, indeed, better than adamant, clear across the treacherous quagmires; but mark you, fear followed Christian so hard, that he fled the nearest way, and fell in, not stopping to look for the steps, or not thinking of them. Now this is often just the operation of fear; it sets the threatenings against the promises, when it ought simply to direct the soul from the threatenings to the promises. It is the object of the threatenings to make the promises shine, and to make the soul lay hold upon them, and that is the purpose and the tendency of a salutary fear of the Divine wrath on account of sin, to make the believer flee directly to the promises, and advance on them to Christ-(Cheever). [16] Signifying that there is nothing but despondency and despair in the fallen nature of sinful man: the best that we can do, leaves us in the Slough of Despond, as to any hope in ourselves-(Mason).

[17] That is, the Lord Jesus Christ. We never find good ground, nor safe sounding, nor comfortable walking, till we enter into possession of Christ by faith, and till our feet are set upon Christ, who is the Rock of ages-(Mason).

[18]         And now you may think, perhaps, that Christian having got out of the Slough of Despond, and fairly on his way, it is all well with him; but not so, for now he comes into a peril that is far greater than the last-a peril through which we suppose that every soul that ever goes on pilgrimage passes, and a peril in which multitudes that get safely across the Slough of Despond, perish forever-(Cheever).

[19]    "Some inkling"; some intimation, hint, or slight knowledge: obsolete-(ED).

[20]         There is great beauty in this dialogue, arising from the exact regard to character preserved throughout. Indeed, this forms one of our author's peculiar excellencies; as it is a very difficult attainment, and always manifests a superiority of genius-(Scott).

[21]         Mr. Worldly-wiseman prefers morality to Christ the strait gate. This is the exact reasoning of the flesh. Carnal reason ever opposes spiritual truth. The notion of justification by our own obedience to God's Law ever works in us, contrary to the way of justification by the obedience of Christ. Self-righteousness is as contrary to the faith of Christ as indulging the lusts of the flesh. The former is the white devil of pride, the latter the black devil of rebellion and disobedience. See the awful consequences of listening to the reasonings of the flesh-(Mason).

[22] And "wotted": and knew. From the Saxon witen, to know; see Imperial Dictionary-(ED).

[23]Beware of taking men by their looks. They may look as gentle as lambs, while the poison of asps is under their tongue; whereby they infect many souls with pernicious errors and pestilent heresies, turning them from Christ and the hope of full justification and eternal life through Him ONLY, to look to, and rely upon, their own works, in whole, or in part, for salvation-(Mason).

[24] As the belief of the truth lies at the fountain of the hope of eternal life, and is the cause of anyone becoming a pilgrim; so the belief of a lie is the cause of anyone's turning out of the way which leads to glory-(Mason).

[25] See the glory of Gospel grace to sinners. See the amazing love of Christ in dying for sinners. 0 remember the price, which obtained the pardon of our sins, at nothing less than His most precious blood! Believe His wonderful love. Rejoice in His glorious salvation. Live in the love of Him, in the hatred of your sins, and in humbleness of mind before Him-(Mason).

[26] Legality is as great an enemy to the cross of Christ as licentiousness; for it keeps the soul from coming to, believing in, and trusting wholly in the blood of Christ for pardon, and the righteousness of Christ for justification! so that it keeps the soul in bondage, and swells the mind with pride, while licentiousness brings a scandal on the cross- (Mason).

[27] The straitness of this gate is not to be understood carnally, but mystically. This gate is wide enough for all the truly sincere lovers of Jesus Christ, but so strait that it will keep all others out. The gate of Eden was wide enough for Adam and his wife to go out at, yet it was too strait for them to go in at. Why? They had sinned; and the cherubim and the flaming sword made it too strait for them. The gates of the temple were six cubits wide, yet they were so strait that none who were unclean might enter them-(Bunyan's Strait Gate, vol. 1, p. 367).

[28]    Here behold the love of Jesus, in freely and heartily receiving every poor sinner who comes unto Him; no matter how vile they have been, nor what sins they have committed, He loves them freely and receives them graciously; for He has nothing but GOOD-WILL to them. Hence, the heavenly host sang at his birth, "Good-will towards men" (Lu 2:14)-(Mason).

[29]         As sinners become more decided in applying to Christ, and assiduous in the means of grace, Satan, if permitted, will be more vehement in his endeavours to discourage them, that, if possible, he may induce them to desist, and so come short of the prize-(Scott). A whole Heaven and eternal life is wrapped up in this little word-"Strive to enter in"; this calls for the mind and heart. Many professors make their striving to stand rather in an outcry of words, than in a hearty labour against the lusts and love of the world. But this kind of striving is but a beating the air, and will come to nothing at last-(Bunyan's Strait Gate, vol. 1, p. 866). Coming souls will have opposition from Satan. He casts his fiery darts at them; wanderings in prayer, enticements to old sins, and even blasphemous thoughts, assail the trembling penitent, when striving to enter into the strait gate, to drive him from "the way and the life"-(ED).

[30]   "No betterment" is an admirable expression of the Christian's humility-he set out in company, but reached the gate alone; still it is not unto me, but unto Thy name be all the glory-(ED).

[31]   "Carnal arguments" is altered to "carnal agreement," in several of Mr. Bunyan's editions: see third to the ninth-(ED).

[32]   Christian, when admitted at the strait gate, is directed in the narrow way; not in the broad fashionable religion. In the broad road, every man may choose a path suited to his inclinations, shift about to avoid difficulties, or accommodate himself to circumstances; and he may be sure of company agreeable to his taste. But Christians must follow one another in the narrow way on the same track, facing enemies, and bearing hardships, without attempting to evade them; nor is any indulgence given to different tastes, habits, or propensities-(Scott).

[33]        With gnat propriety Bunyan places the house of the Interpreter beyond the strait gate; for the knowledge of Divine things, that precedes conversion to God by faith in Christ, is very scanty, compared with the diligent Christian's subsequent attainments-(Scott).

[34]   It would be difficult to find 12 consecutive pages in the English language, that contain such volumes of meaning, in such beautiful and instructive lessons, with such heavenly imagery, in so pure and sweet a style, and with so thrilling an appeal to the best affections of the heart, as these pages descriptive of Christian's sojourning in the house of the Interpreter. This good man of the house, the Interpreter, we are, without doubt, to take as the representative of the Holy Spirit, with His enlightening and sanctifying influences on the heart-(Cheever). The order in which these heavenly lessons are taught, is worthy of our admiration-(ED).

[35]   As in creation, so in conversion, God's command is, "Let there be light"; it comes by the Word; no Bible, no light. God divided the light from the darkness; a blessed mystery to prove the Christian indeed-light in his mind at variance with his native darkness-(Bunyan, on Genesis).

[36]   The FIRST object presented by the Holy Spirit to the mind of a young believer, is the choice of his minister; not to be submissive to human orders, but to choose for himself. The leading features are, that he be grave, devotional, a lover of his Bible, one who rejects error and preaches the truth; uninfluenced by paltry pelf or worldly honours; pleading patiently to win souls; seeking only his Master's approbation; souls, and not money, for his hire; an immortal crown for his reward. With the laws of men and friendship to mislead us, how essential is the guidance of the Holy Spirit in this important choice!-(ED). And whose portrait is Bunyan describing here? We think he had only Mr. Gifford in his eye as a faithful minister of Christ; but Bunyan too had been the pleader with men, and over his own head the crown of gold was shining, and while he wrote these words, you may be sure that his spirit thrilled within him as he said, And I too am a minister of Jesus Christ-(Cheever).

[37]Christian well knew this in his own deep experience; for the burden of sin was on him still, and sorely did he feel it while the Interpreter was making this explanation; and had it not been for his remembrance of the warning of the man at the gate, he would certainly have besought the Interpreter to take off his burden. The law could not take it off; he had tried that; and grace had not yet removed it; so he was forced to be quiet, and to wait patiently. But when the damsel came and sprinkled the floor, and laid the dust, and then the parlour was swept so easily, there were the sweet influences of the Gospel imaged; there was Divine grace distilling as the dew; there was the gentle voice of Christ hushing the storm; there were the corruptions of the heart, which the law had but roused into action, yielding under the power of Christ; and there was the soul made clean, and fit for the King of glory to inhabit. Indeed, this was a most instructive emblem. 0 that my heart might be thus cleansed, thought Christian, and then I verily believe I could bear my burden with great ease to the end of my pilgrimage; but I have had enough of that fierce sweeper, the Law. The Lord deliver me from his besom!-(Cheever).

[38]     This was a vivid and striking emblem, and one which, in its general meaning, a child could understand. Passion stands for the men of this world, Patience of that which is to come; Passion for those who will have all their good things now, Patience for those who are willing, with self-denial, to wait for something better; Passion for those who are absorbed in temporal trifles, Patience for those whose hearts are fixed upon eternal realities; Passion the things which are seen, and the impatient eagerness with which they are followed, Patience the things which are unseen, and the faith, humility, and deadness to the world exercised in order to enjoy them. It is a good commentary upon Ps 73-(Cheever).

[39]     This instructive vision springs from the author's painful, but blessed experience. The flame of love in a Christian's heart is like the fire of despair in Satan's spirit unquenchable. Before Bunyan had been behind the wall, the tempter suggested to him-"You are very hot for mercy, but I will cool you, though I be seven years in chilling your heart, I can do it at last; I will have you cold before long"-(Grace Abounding, No. 110). He is the father of lies. Thus he said to Christian in the fight, "Here will I spill thy soul"; instead of which, Apollyon was put to flight. We cannot fail with such a prop, That bears the earth's huge pillars up. Satan's water can never be so powerful to quench, as Christ's oil and grace are to keep the fire burning. Sinner, believe this, and love, praise, and rejoice in thy Lord. He loves with an everlasting love; He saves with an everlasting salvation; without His perpetual aid, we should perish; Christ is the Alpha and Omega of our safety; but how mysterious is the Saint's perseverance until we have seen the secret supply!-(ED).

[40] For a man to fight his way through infernal enemies, is in every age a fearful battle; but in addition to this, to enter his name as a nonconformist in Bunyan's time, demanded intrepidity of no ordinary degree; their enemies were the throne, the laws, and the bishops, armed with malignity against these followers of Jesus Christ. But there were noble spirits, "of very stout countenance," that by the sword of the Spirit cut their way through all opposition. Bunyan was one of these worthies-(Ivimey). [41] Verily thou didst, noble Christian! And who is there that does not know the meaning of it, and what heart so cold as not to be ravished by it! Yea, we should think that this passage alone might set any man out on this pilgrimage, might bring many a careless traveler up to the gate of this glorious palace to say, Set down my name, Sir! How full of instruction is this passage! It set Christian's own heart on fire to run forward on his journey, although the battle was before him-(Cheever).

[42]         All these deeply interesting pictures are intended for every age and every clime. This iron cage of despair has ever shut up its victims. Many have supposed that it had a special reference to one John Child, who, under the fear of persecution, abandoned his profession, and, in frightful desperation, miserably perished by his own hand. See Introduction, page 73; see also the sickness and death of Mr. Badman's brother-(ED).

[43]           Bunyan intended not to represent this man as actually beyond the reach of mercy, but to show the dreadful consequences of departing from God, and of being abandoned of Him to the misery of unbelief and despair-(Cheever).

[44]    "An everlasting caution"-"God help me to watch." The battle with Apollyon, the dread valley, the trying scene at Vanity Fair, the exhilarating victory over By-ends and Demas, dissipated the painful scene of the iron cage; and want of prayerful caution led Christian into the dominion of Despair, and he became for a season the victim shut up in this frightful cage. Reader, may we be ever found "looking unto Jesus," then shall we be kept from Doubting Castle and the iron cage-(ED).

[45]    "In the midst of these heavenly instructions, why in such haste to go? Alas! the burden of sin upon his back pressed him on to seek deliverance-(ED).

[46]    "Rack." Driven violently by the wind-(ED).

[47] We go about the world in the day time, and are absorbed in earthly schemes; the world is as bright as a rainbow, and it bears for us no marks or predictions of the judgment, or of our sins; and conscience is retired, as it were, within a far inner circle of the soul. But when it comes night, and the pall of sleep is drawn over the senses, then conscience comes out solemnly, and walks about in the silent chambers of the soul, and makes her survey and her comments, and sometimes sits down and sternly reads the record of a life that the waking man would never look into, and the catalogue of crimes that are gathering for the judgment. Imagination walks tremblingly behind her, and they pass through the open gate of the Scriptures into the eternal world-for thither all things in man's being naturally and irresistibly tend-and there, imagination draws the judgment, the soul is presented at the bar of God, and the eye of the Judge is on it, and a hand of fire writes, "Thou art weighed in the balances, and found wanting!" Our dreams sometimes reveal our character, our sins, our destinies, more clearly than our waking thoughts; for by day the energies of our being are turned into artificial channels, by night our thoughts follow the bent that is most natural to them; and as man is both an immortal and a sinful being, the consequences both of his immortality and his sinfulness will sometimes be made to stand out in overpowering light, when the busy pursuits of day are not able to turn the soul from wandering towards eternity- (Cheever). Bunyan profited much by dreams and visions. "Even in my childhood the Lord did scare and affright me with fearful dreams, and did terrify me with dreadful visions." That is a striking vision of church fellowship in the Grace Abounding, (Nos. 53-56); and an awful dream is narrated in the Greatness of the Soul-"Once I dreamed that I saw two persons, whom I knew, in hell; and methought I saw a continual dropping from Heaven, as of great drops of fire lighting upon them, to their sore distress" (vol. 1, p. 148)-(ED).

[48]     Our safety consists in a due proportion of hope and fear. When devoid of hope, we resemble a ship without an anchor; when unrestrained by fear, we are like the same vessel under full sail without ballast. True comfort is the effect of watchfulness, diligence, and circumspection. What lessons could possibly have been selected of greater importance or more suited to establish the new convert, than these are which our author has most ingeniously and agreeably inculcated, under the emblem of the Interpreter's curiosities?-(Scott).

[49]     This is an important lesson, that a person may be in Christ and yet have a deep sense of the burden of sin upon the soul-(Cheever). So also Bunyan-"Every height is a difficulty to him that is loaden; with a burden, how shall we attain the Heaven of heavens?"-(Knowledge of Christ's Love).

[50]     This efficacious sight of the cross is thus narrated in Grace Abounding, (No. 115)-"Traveling in the country, and musing on the wickedness and blasphemy of my heart, that scripture came in my mind-"Having made peace through the blood of His cross" (Col 1:20). I saw that day again and again, that God and my soul were friends by His blood; yea, that the justice of God and my soul could embrace and kiss each other. This was a good day to me; I hope I shall not forget it." He was glad and lightsome, and had a merry heart; he was before inspired with hope, but now he is a happy believer-(ED).

[51] None but those who have felt such bliss, can imagine the joy with which this heavenly visitation fills the soul. The Father receives the poor penitent with, "Thy sins be forgiven thee." The Son clothes him with a spotless righteousness. "The prodigal when he returned to his father was clothed with rags; but the best robe is brought out, also the gold ring and the shoes; yea, they are put upon him to his rejoicing" (Come and Welcome, vol. 1, p. 265). The Holy Spirit gives him a certificate; thus described by Bunyan in the House of God- "But bring with thee a certificate, To show thou seest thyself most desolate; Writ by the Master, with repentance seal'd; To show also, that here thou would'st be healed By those fair leaves of that most blessed tree By which alone poor sinners healed be: And that thou dost abhor thee for thy ways, And would'st in holiness spend all thy days; And here be entertained; or thou wilt find To entertain thee here are none inclined! (Vol. 2, p. 680). Such a certificate, written upon the heart by the Holy Spirit, may be lost for a season, as in the arbour on the hill, but cannot be stolen even by Faith-heart, Mistrust, and Guilt. For the mark in his forehead, see 2Co 3:2-3; "not with ink, but with the spirit of the living God, known and read of all men"-(ED).

[52]    He that has come to Christ, has cast his burden upon Him. By faith he hath seen himself released thereof; but he that is but coming, hath it yet, as to sense and feeling, upon his own shoulders-(Come and Welcome, vol. 1, p. 264).

[53]    "Fat"; a vessel in which things are put to be soaked, or to ferment; a vat-(ED).

[54]           No sooner has Christian "received Christ" than he at once preaches to the sleeping sinners the great salvation. He stays not for human calls or ordination, but attempts to awaken them to a sense of their danger, and presently exhorts with authority the formalist and hypocrite. So it was in the personal experience of Bunyan; after which, when his brethren discovered his talent, they invited him to preach openly and constantly. Dare anyone find fault with that conduct, which proved so extensively useful?-(ED).

[55]    The formalist has only the shell of religion; he is hot for forms because it is all that he has to contend for. The hypocrite is for God and Baal too; he can throw stones with both hands. He carries fire in one hand, and water in the other-(Strait Gate, vol. 1, p. 389). These men range from sect to sect, like wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever. They are barren trees; and the axe, whetted by sin and the law, will make deep gashes. Death sends Guilt, his first-born, to bring them to the King of terrors-(Barren Fig-tree).

[56]         "We trow"; we believe or imagine: from the Saxon. See Imperial Dictionary-(ED).

[57]    These men occupied the seat of the scorner; they had always been well dressed. His coat might do for such a ragamuffin as he had been, but they needed no garment but their own righteousness-the forms of their church. The mark, or certificate of the new birth, was an object of scorn to them. Probably they pitied him as a harmless mystic, weak in mind and illiterate. Alas! how soon was their laughter turned into mourning. Fear and calamity overwhelmed them. They trusted in themselves, and there was none to deliver-(ED).

[58]         The Christian can hold no communion with a mere formal professor. The Christian loves to be speaking of the Lord's grace and goodness, of his conflicts and consolations, of the Lord's dealings with his soul, and of the blessed confidence which he is enabled to place in Him-(J. B.).

[59]    Such is the fate of those who keep their sins with their profession, and will not encounter difficulty in cutting them off. "Not all their pretences of seeking after and praying to God will keep them from falling and splitting themselves in sunder"-(A Holy Life the Beauty of Christianity). There are heights that build themselves up in us, and exalt themselves to keep the knowledge of God from our hearts. They oppose and contradict our spiritual understanding of God and His Christ. These are the dark mountains at which we should certainly stumble and fall, but for one who can leap and skip over them to our aid-(Saints' Knowledge of Christ's Love, vol. 2, p. 8).

[60]    Pleased with the gifts of grace, rather than with the gracious giver, pride secretly creeps in; and we fall first into a sinful self-complacence, and then into indolence and security. This is intended by his falling fast asleep-(Dr. Dodd).

[61]           Sinful sloth deprives the Christian of his comforts. What he intended only for a moment's nap, like a man asleep during sermon-time in church, became a deep sleep, and his roll fell out of his hand; and yet he ran well while there was nothing special to alarm him. Religious privileges should refresh and not puff up-(Cheever).

[62]    But why go back again? That is the next way to hell. Never go over hedge and ditch to hell. They that miss life perish, because they will not let go their sins, or have no saving faith-(Bunyan's Strait Gate, vol. 1, p. 388).

[63]    To go forward is attended with the fear of death, but eternal life is beyond. I must venture. My hill was further: so I slung away, Yet heard a cry Just as I went, "None goes that way And lives." If that be all, said I, After so foul a journey, death is fair And but a chair. -(G. Herbert's Temple-The Pilgrimage)

[64]    He is perplexed for his roll; this is right. If we suffer spiritual loss, and are easy and unconcerned about it, it is a sad sign that we indulge carnal security and vain confidences-(Mason).

[65]    The backslider is attended with fears and doubts such a he felt not before, built on the vileness of his backsliding; more dreadful scriptures look him in the face, with their dreadful physiognomy. His new sins all turn talking devils, threatening devils, roaring devils, within him. Besides, he doubts the truth of his first conversion, and thus adds lead to his heels in returning to God by Christ. He can tell strange stories, and yet such as are very true. No man can tell what is to be seen and felt in the whale's belly but Jonah-(Bunyan's Christ a Complete Saviour, vol. 1, p. 224).

[66]    "Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth, is Mount Zion; God is known in her palaces for a refuge." Those who enter must joyfully submit to the laws and ordinances of this house-(Andronicus).

[67]    The two lions, civil despotism and ecclesiastical tyranny, terrified many young converts, when desirous of joining a Christian church, here represented by the Beautiful Palace. In the reign of the Tudors they committed sad havoc. In Bunyan's time, they were chained, so that few suffered martyrdom, although many were ruined, imprisoned, and perished in dungeons. When Faithful passed they were asleep. It was a short cessation from persecution. In the Second Part, Great-heart slew Giant Bloody-man, who backed the lions; probably referring to the wretched death of that monster, Judge Jefferies. And in the experience of Mr. Fearing, it is clear that the Hill Difficulty and the lions were intended to represent temporal and bodily troubles, and not spiritual difficulties-"When we came at the Hill Difficulty, he made no stick at that, nor did he much fear the lions; for you must know that his trouble was not about such things as these; his fear was about his acceptance at last"-(ED).

[68]         Christian, after feeling the burden of sin, entering by Christ the gate, taught by the Holy Spirit lessons of high concern in the Bible or House of the Interpreter; after losing his burden by faith in his crucified Saviour, his sins pardoned, clothed with his Lord's righteousness, marked by a godly profession, he becomes fit for church-fellowship; is invited by Bishop Gifford, the porter; and, with the consent of the inmates, he enters the house called Beautiful. Mark, reader, not as essential to salvation; it is by the side of the road, not across it; all that was essential had taken place before. Faithful did not enter. Here is no compulsion either to enter or pay: that would have converted it into the house of arrogance or persecution. It is upon the Hill Difficulty, requiring personal, willing efforts to scramble up; and holy zeal and courage to bear the taunts of the world and the growling frowns of the lions. Here he has new lessons to learn of Discretion, Piety, Prudence, and Charity, to bear with his fellow-members, and they with him; and here he is armed for his journey. Many are the blessed enjoyments of church-fellowship. "Esther was had to the house of the women to be purified, and so came to the king. God also hath appointed that those who come into His royal presence should first go to the house of the women, the church." (See Bunyan's Greatness of the Soul, vol. 1, p. 145). Every soul must be fitted for the royal presence, usually in church fellowship: but these lovely maidens sometimes wait on and instruct those who never enter the house Beautiful; who belong to the church universal, but not to any local body of Christians. John directs his Revelations to the seven churches in Asia; Paul, his epistles to the churches in Galatia, or to the church at Corinth-all distinct bodies of Christians; James to the 12 tribes; and Peter to the strangers, and "to them that have obtained like precious faith," of all churches-(ED).

[69] The true Christian's inmost feelings will best explain these answers, which no exposition can elucidate to those who are unacquainted with the conflict to which they refer, the golden hours, fleeting and precious, are earnests of the everlasting holy felicity of Heaven-(Scott). [70] The only true mode of vanquishing carnal thoughts is looking at Christ crucified, or dwelling upon His dying love, the robe of righteousness which clothes his naked soul, his roll or evidence of his interest, and the glory and happiness of Heaven! Happy souls who THUS oppose their corruptions!-(Dr. Dodd).

[71]This was the fact as it regards Bunyan when he was writing the "Pilgrim." He had a wife, two sons, and two daughters. This conversation was first published in the second edition, 1678; and if he referred to his own family, it was to his second wife, a most worthy and heroic woman; but she and some of his children were fellow-pilgrims with him. His eldest son was a preacher 11 years before the Second Part of the "Pilgrim" was published-(ED).

[72]           0 soul! consider this deeply. It is the life of a Christian that carries more conviction and persuasion than his words-(Mason).

[73]    Those that religiously name the name of Christ, and do not depart from iniquity, cause the perishing of many. A professor that hath not forsaken his iniquity is like one that comes out of a pest-house to his home, with all his plague-sores running. He hath the breath of a dragon, and poisons the air round about him. This is the man that slays his children, his kinsmen, his friends, and himself. 0! the millstone that God will shortly hang about your necks, when you must be drowned in the sea and deluge of God's wrath-(Bunyan's Holy Life, vol. 2, p. 530).

[74]    How beautiful must that church be where Watchful is the porter; where Discretion admits the members; where Prudence takes the oversight; where Piety conducts the worship; and where Charity endears the members one to another! They partake of the Lord's Supper, a feast of fat things, with wine well refined-(J.B.).

[75]      Ah! theirs was converse such as it behooves Man to maintain, and such as God approves- Christ and His character their only scope, Their subject, and their object, and their hope. 0 days of Heaven, and nights of equal praise! Serene and peaceful as those heavenly days When souls drawn upwards in communion sweet, Enjoy the stillness of some close retreat, Discourse, as if releas'd and safe at home, Of dangers past, and wonders yet to come-(Cowper).

[76]      When Christiana and her party arrived at this house Beautiful, she requested that they might repose in the same chamber, called Peace, which was granted. The author, in his marginal note, explains the nature of this resting-place by the words, "Christ's bosom is for all pilgrims"-(ED).

[77]      How suddenly that straight and glittering shaft Shot 'thwart the earth! In crown of living fire Up comes the day! As if they, conscious, quaff'd The sunny flood, hill, forest, city, spire, Laugh in the wakening light. Go, vain Desire!

The dusky lights have gone; go thou thy way! And pining Discontent, like them expire! Be called my chamber Peace, when ends the day, And let me, with the dawn, like Pilgrim, sing and pray. Great is the Lord our God, And let His praise be great: He makes His churches His abode, His most delightful seat-(Dr. Watts).

[78]    Should you see a man that did not go from door to door, but he must be clad in a coat of mail, and have a helmet of brass upon his head, and for his life-guard not so few as a thousand men to wait on him, would you not say, Surely this man has store of enemies at hand? If Solomon used to have about his bed no less than threescore of the most valiant of Israel, holding swords, and being expert in war, what guard and safeguard doth God's people need, who are, night and day, roared on by the unmerciful fallen angels? Why, they lie in wait for poor Israel in every hole, and he is forever in danger of being either stabbed or destroyed-(Bunyan's Israel's Hope, vol. 1, p. 602).

[79]    Christ himself is the Christian's armoury. When he puts on Christ, he is then completely armed from head to foot. Are his loins girt about with truth? Christ is the truth. Has he on the breastplate of righteousness? Christ is our righteousness. Are his feet shod with the Gospel of peace? Christ is our peace. Does he take the shield of faith, and helmet of salvation? Christ is that shield, and all our salvation. Does he take the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God? Christ is the Word of God. Thus he puts on the Lord Jesus Christ; by his Spirit fights the fight of faith; and, in spite of men, of devils, and of his own evil heart, lays hold of eternal life. Thus Christ is all in all-(J. B.).

[80]      The church in the wilderness, even her porch, is full of pillars-apostles, prophets, and martyrs of Jesus. There are hung up also the shields that the old warriors used, and on the walls are painted the brave achievements they have done. There, also, are such encouragements that one would think that none who came thither would ever attempt to go back. Yet some forsake the place-(Bunyan's House of Lebanon).

[81]      The Delectable Mountains, as seen at a distance, represent those distinct views of the privileges and consolations, attainable in this life, with which believers are sometimes favoured. This is the pre-eminent advantage of Christian communion, and can only be enjoyed at some special seasons, when the Sun of Righteousness shines upon the soul-(Scott).

[82]      Thus it is, after a pilgrim has been favoured with any special and peculiar blessings, there is danger of his being puffed up by them, and exalted on account of them; so was even holy Paul; therefore, the messenger of Satan was permitted to buffet him (2Co 3:7)-(Mason). We are not told here what these slips were; but when Christian narrates the battle to Hopeful, he lets us into the secret-"These three villains," Faint-heart, Mistrust, and Guilt, "set upon me, and I beginning, like a Christian, to resist, they gave but a call, and in came their master. I would, as the saying is, have given my life for a penny, but that, as God would have it, I was clothed with armour of proof." In the Second Part, Great-heart attributed the sore combat with Apollyon to have arisen from "the fruit of those slips that he got in going down the hill." Great enjoyments need the most prayerful watchfulness in going down from them, lest those three villains cause us to slip. Christian's heavenly enjoyment in the communion of saints was followed by his humbling adventures in the valley-a needful proof of Divine love to his soul. "Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth"-(ED). "A broken heart, 0 God, Thou wilt not despise." Has He given it to thee, my reader? Then He has given thee a cabinet to hold His grace in. True, it is painful now, it is sorrowful, it bleeds, it sighs, it sobs, well, very well; all this is because He has a mind that thou mayest rejoice in Heaven-(Bunyan's Acceptable Sacrifice).

[83]    "No armour for his back"; to desist is inevitable ruin. He sees no safety except in facing his enemy. Fear itself creates additional courage, and induces him to stand his ground-(Drayton).

[84]    The description of Apollyon is terrible. This dreadful imagery is collected from various parts of Scripture, where the attributes of the most terrible animals are given him; the attributes of leviathan, the dragon, the lion, and the bear; to denote his strength, his pride, his rage, his courage, and his cruelty-(Andronicus).

[85]    In our days, when emigration is so encouraged by the state, it may be difficult for some youthful readers to understand this argument of Apollyon's. In Bunyan's time, every subject was deemed to be Crown property, and no one dared depart the realm without a license. Thus, when Cromwell and his heroes had hired ships, and were ready to start for America, Charles II providentially detained them, to work out the great Revolution-(ED).

[86]         Promises or vows, whether made by us or by others on our behalf, before we possessed powers of reason or reflection, cannot be binding. The confirmation or rejection of all vows made by or for us in our nonage, should, on arriving at years of discretion, be our deliberate choice, for we must recollect that no personal dedication can be acceptable to God unless it is the result of solemn inquiry-(ED).

[87]         Mark the subtlety of this gradation in temptation. The profits of the world and pleasures of sin are held out as allurements. The apostasy of others suggested. The difficulties, dangers, and sufferings of the Lord's people, are contrasted with the prosperity of sinners. The recollections of our sins and backslidings, under a profession of religion. The supposition that all our profession is founded in pride and vain-glory. All backed by our own consciences; as if Apollyon straddled quite across the way, and stopped us from going on-(Andronicus).

[88]         This dialogue is given, in different words, in the Jerusalem Sinner Saved, Volume 1, pages 79, 80. Satan is loath to part with a great sinner. What, my true servant, quoth he, my old servant, wilt thou forsake me now? Having so often sold thyself to me to work wickedness, wilt thou forsake me now? Thou horrible wretch, dost not know that thou hast sinned thyself beyond the reach of grace, and dost thou think to find mercy now? Art not thou a murderer, a thief, a harlot, a witch, a sinner of the greatest size, and dost thou look for mercy now? Dost thou think that Christ will foul His fingers with thee? It is enough to make angels blush, saith Satan, to see so vile a one knock at Heaven's gates for mercy, and wilt thou be so abominably bold to do it? Thus Satan dealt with me, says the great sinner, when at first I came to Jesus Christ. And what did you reply? saith the tempted. Why, I granted the whole charge to be true, says the other. And what, did you despair, or how? No, saith he, I said, I am Magdalene, I am Zaccheus, I am the thief, I am the harlot, I am the publican, I am the prodigal, and one of Christ's murderers-yea, worse than any of these; and yet God was so far off from rejecting of me, as I found afterwards, that there was music and dancing in His house for me, and for joy that I was come home unto Him. When Satan charged Luther with a long list of crimes, he replied, This is all true; but write another line at the bottom, "The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin"-(ED).

[89]      The devil is that great and dogged leviathan, that "spreadeth sharp pointed things upon the mire" (Job 40:24). For be the spreading nature of our corruptions never so broad, he will find sharp pointed things enough to stick in the mire of them for our affliction; they are called fiery darts, and he has abundance of them with which he can and will sorely prick and wound our spirits-(Bunyan on Christ's Love, vol. 2, p. 65).

[90]  When infidel thoughts prevail, so that doubts of the truth of Scripture take hold of the mind, the sword of the Spirit flies out of the hand. Unarmed before a ferocious enemy, it was an awful moment; but God revives his faith in the Divine Word, he recovers his sword, and gives his enemy a deadly plunge-I shall rise-(Drayton).

[91]  "For a season," is only found in the first edition. These words may have been omitted, in Bunyan's subsequent editions, by a typographical error, or have been struck out by him. My impression is, that they were left out by the printer in error; because, in the Second Part, when the pilgrims pass the spot and talk of the battle, we are told that "when Apollyon was beat, he made his retreat to the next valley." And there poor Christian was awfully beset with him again-(ED).

[92]  You will find, from the perusal of Bunyan's own spiritual life, that he has here brought together, in the assault of Apollyon upon Christian, many of the most grievous temptations with which his own soul was beset, as also, in Christian's answers against them, the very method of defence which he himself was taught by Divine grace in the midst of the conflict. It is here condensed into a narrow and vivid scene, but it extended over years of Bunyan's life; and the wisdom that is in it, and the points of experience illustrated, were the fruit of many months of painfulness, danger, and desperate struggle with the adversary, which he had to go through-(Cheever).

[93]    The literal history of this terrific conflict may be found in Bunyan's experience recorded in Grace Abounding, (Nos. 131-173), when he recovered his sword, and put his enemy to flight. He describes his agonies in the combat as if he were being racked upon the wheel, and states that it lasted for about a year. Floods of blasphemies were poured in upon him, but he was saved from utter despair, because they were loathsome to him. Dr. Cheever eloquently says, "What made the fight a thousand times worse for poor Christian was, that many of these hellish darts were tipped, by Apollyon's malignant ingenuity, with sentences from Scripture"; so that Christian thought the Bible was against him. One of these fiery darts penetrated his soul with the awful words, "no place for repentance"; and another with, "hath never forgiveness." The recovery of his sword was by a heavenly suggestion that He BEGIN did not "refuse him that speaketh"; new vigour was communicated. "When I fall, I SHALL arise," was a home-thrust at Satan; who left him, richly to enjoy the consolations of the Gospel after this dreadful battle-(ED).

[94]    By "leaves" here (Re 22:2), we are to understand the blessed and precious promises, consolations, and encouragements, that, by virtue of Christ, we find everywhere growing on the new covenant, which will be handed freely to the wounded conscience that is tossed on the reckless waves of doubt and unbelief. Christ's leaves are better than Adam's aprons. He sent His Word, and healed them-(Bunyan's Holy City).

[95]      However terrible these conflicts are, they are what every Christian pilgrim has to encounter that is determined to win Heaven. Sin and death, reprobates and demons, are against him. The Almighty, all good angels and men, are for him. Eternal life is the reward. Be not discouraged, young Christian! "If God be for us, who can be against us?" We shall come off more than conquerors, through him that hath loved us. Equal to our day so shall be our strength. The enemies had a special check from our Lord, while Mr. Fearing passed through.

"Though death and hell obstruct the way The meanest saint shall win the day"-(ED).

[96]      "Desired Heaven," in some of Bunyan's editions-(ED).

[97]      The ditch on the right hand is error in principle, into which the blind, as to spiritual truth, fall. The ditch on the left hand means outward sin and wickedness, which many fall into. Both are alike dangerous to pilgrims: but the Lord "will keep the feet of his saints" (1Sa 2:9)-(Mason). Dr. Dodd considers that by the deep ditch is intended "presumptuous hopes," and the no less dangerous quag to be "despairing fears"-(ED).

[98]    The sight of an immortal soul in peril of its eternal interests, beset with enemies, engaged in a desperate conflict, with hell opening her mouth before, and fiends and temptations pressing after, is a sublime and awful spectacle. Man cannot aid him; all his help is in God only-(Cheever).

[99]    And as for the secrets of Satan, such as are suggestions to question the being of God, the truth of His Word, and to be annoyed with devilish blasphemies, none are more acquainted with these than the biggest sinners at their conversion; wherefore thus also they are prepared to be helps in the church to relieve and comfort others-(Jerusalem Sinner Saved, vol. 1, p. 80). See also a very interesting debate upon this subject in Come and Welcome to Jesus Christ, volume 1, page 250. 0, no one knows the terrors of these days but myself-(Grace Abounding, Nos. 100102). Satan and his angels trouble his head with their stinking breath. How many strange, hideous, and amazing blasphemies have some, that are coming to Christ, had injected upon their spirits against Him-(Christ a Complete Saviour, vol. 1, p. 209). He brought me up also out of a horrible pit; a pit of noise of devils, and of my heart answering them with distrust and fear-(Saint's Knowledge of Christ's Love).

[100]     The experience of other saints is very encouraging; for the soul finds that others have gone before him in dreadful, dark, and dreary paths-(Mason).

[101]     To walk in darkness, and not be distressed for it, argues stupidity of the soul. To have the light of God's countenance shine upon us, and not to rejoice and be thankful for it, is impossible-(Mason).

[102]     I would not be too confident, but I apprehend that by this second part of the valley we are taught that believers are not most in danger when under the deepest distress; that the snares and devices of the enemy are so many and various, through the several stages of our pilgrimage, as to baffle all description; and that all the emblems of these valleys could not represent the thousandth part of them. Were it not that the Lord guides His people by the light of His Word and Spirit, they never could possibly escape them-(Scott).

[103]     The wicked spirits have made and laid for us snares, pits, holes, and what not, if peradventure by something we may be destroyed. Yea, and we should most certainly be so, were it not for the Rock that is higher than they-(Bunyan's Saints' Knowledge of Christ's Love, vol. 2, p. 8).

[104]     Alas, my dear country! I would to God it could not be said to thee, since the departure of paganism and popery, "The blood of the poor innocents is found in thy skirts, not by a secret search, but upon thy kings, princes, priests, and prophets" (Jer 2:34,26). Let us draw a veil over the infamy of PROTESTANT PERSECUTION, and bless Jehovah, who has broken the arrow and the bow-(Andronicus). It may be questioned whether popery may not yet so far recover its vigour as to make one more alarming struggle against vital Christianity, before that Man of Sin be finally destroyed. Our author, however, has described no other persecution than what Protestants, in his time, carried on against one another with very great alacrity-(Scott).

[105]     The quaint and pithy point of this passage stamps it as one of Bunyan's most felicitous descriptions. We who live in a later age may, indeed, suspect that he has somewhat antedated the death of Pagan, and the impotence of Pope; but his picture of their cave and its memorials, his delineation of the survivor of this fearful pair, rank among those master-touches which have won such lasting honour for his genius-(Bernard Barton).

[106]     Christian having passed the gloomy whirlwind of temptation to despair, now walks in the light of the Sun of Righteousness, through the second part of the valley. There he encounters the persecution of the state church. Act after act of Parliament had been passed-full of atrocious penalties, imprisonments, transportation, and hanging-to deter poor pilgrims from the way to Zion. "The way was full of snares, traps, gins, nets, pitfalls, and deep holes." Had the darkness of mental anguish been added to these dangers, he must have perished. The butcheries of Jefferies strewed the way with blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of pilgrims. Pope reared his ugly head, and growled out, "More of you must be burned." The desolating tyranny of the church was curbed by the King's turning papist, which paved the way for the glorious Revolution of 1688. It appears from the Grace Abounding, that to the time of Bunyan's imprisonment for preaching the Gospel, he was involved frequently in deeply-distressing spiritual darkness; but, from his entering the prison, be walked in the light of God's countenance to his dying day-(ED).

[107] We are now to be introduced to a new pilgrim, and Christian is no more to go on his way alone. The sweet Christian communion depicted in this book forms one of the most delightful features in it, and Faithful and Hopeful are both of them portraits that stand out in as firm relief as that of Christian himself. Faithful is the Martyr Pilgrim, who goes in a chariot of fire to Heaven, and leaves Christian alone; Hopeful springs, as it were, out of Faithful's ashes, and supplies his place all along the remainder of the pilgrimage. The communion between these loving Christians, their sympathy and share in each other's distresses, their mutual counsels and encouragements, temptations and dangers, experience and discipline, their united joys and sorrows, and their very passing of the river of death together, form the sweetest of all examples of the true fellowship of saints, united to the same Saviour, made to drink into the same Spirit, baptized with the same sufferings, partakers of the same consolations, crowned with the same crown of life, entering together upon glory everlasting-(Cheever). The author has displayed great skill in introducing a companion to his Pilgrim in this place. Thus far the personal adventures of Christian had been of the most extraordinary kind, and sufficient of themselves to exercise the readers sympathies for him; but these feelings would have languished from weariness, however intensely the sequel might have been wrought, had attention been claimed for a solitary wanderer to the end of the journey. Here then the history, which had probably reached its climax in the preceding scenes, revives, by taking a new form, and exciting a fresh interest, rather doubled than divided, though two have thenceforward to share it instead of one. Besides, the individual experience of one man, however varied, would not have been sufficient to exemplify all the most useful lessons of the Gospel, unless the trials of many persons, of different age, sex, and disposition, were interwoven. The instance at hand will illustrate this point-(Montgomery).

[108] Ah, what a smile was that! How much sin was there in it, instead of humble spiritual gratitude, and joy. Now see how he that exalteth himself shall be abased, and how surely, along with spiritual pride, comes carelessness, false security, and a grievous fall-(Cheever). The very person's hand we need to help us, whom we thought we had exceeded-(Mason). When a consciousness of superiority to other Christians leads to vain glory, a fall will be the consequence; but while it excites compassion, it also cements Christian friendship-(Ivimey).

[109]     Mr. Anything became a brisk man in the broil; but both sides were against him, because he was true to none. He had, for his malapertness, one of his legs broken, and he that did it wished it had been his neck-(Holy War).

[110]     "I trow," I believe or imagine (Imp. Dict.)-(ED).

[111]     If the experience of Christian is an exhibition of Bunyan's own feelings, the temptations of Madam Wanton are very properly laid in the way of Faithful, and not of Christian. She would have had no chance with the man who admired the wisdom of God in making him shy of women, who rarely carried it pleasantly towards a woman, and who abhorred the common salutation of women-(Grace Abounding, No. 316)-ED.

[112]     "All" is omitted from every edition by Bunyan, except the first; probably a typographical error.

[113]     An awful slavery! "None that go unto her return again, neither take they hold of the paths of life" (Pr 2:19)- (ED).

[114]     That sinner who never had a threatening fiery visit from Moses, is yet asleep in his sins, under the curse and wrath of the law of God-(C.C.V.G.).

[115]     As the law giveth no strength, nor life to keep it, so it accepteth none of them that are under it. Sin and Die, is forever its language. There is no middle way in the law. It hath not ears to hear, nor heart to pity, its penitent ones- (Bunyan on Justification, vol. 1, p. 316).

[116]            The delineation of this character is a masterly grouping together of the arguments used by men of this world against religion, in ridicule and contempt of it. Faithful's account of him, and of his arguments, is a piece of vigorous satire, full of truth and life-(Cheever).

[117]     Nothing can be a stronger proof that we have lost the image of God, than shame concerning the things of God. This shame, joined to the fear of man, is a very powerful enemy to God's truths, Christ's glory, and our soul's comfort. Better at once get out of our pain, by declaring boldly for Christ and His cause, than stand shivering on the brink of profession, ever dreading the loss of our good name and reputation: for Christ says (awful words): "Whosoever shall be ashamed of Me and of My words, in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him also shall the Son of man be ashamed when He cometh in the glory of His Father" (Mr 8:38). It is one thing to be attacked by shame, and another to be conquered by it-(Mason).

[118]     Christian in a great measure escaped the peculiar temptations that assaulted Faithful, yet he sympathized with him; nor did the latter deem the gloomy experiences of his brother visionary or imaginative, though he had been exempted from them. One man, from a complication of causes, is exposed to temptations of which another is ignorant; and in this case he needs much sympathy, which he seldom meets with; while they, who are severe on him are liable to be baffled in another way, which, for want of coincidence in habit, temperature, and situation, he is equally prone to disregard. Thus Christians are often led reciprocally to censure, suspect, or dislike each other, on those very grounds which would render them useful and encouraging counselors and companions!-(Scott).

[119] Bunyan, in his Pilgrim's Progress, places the Valley of the Shadow of Death, not where we should expect it, at the end of Christian's pilgrimage, but about the middle of it. Those who have studied the history of Bunyan and his times will hardly wonder at this. It was then safer to commit felony than to become a Dissenter. Indeed, a felon was far surer of a fair trial than any Dissenting minister, after the restoration of Charles II. This Bunyan found. Simply and solely for preaching, he was condemned by Keeling to imprisonment. That was to be followed by banishment if he did not conform, and, in the event of his return from banishment without license from the King, the judge added, "You must stretch by the neck for it; I tell you plainly." Christian endured, in the first portion of this dismal valley, great darkness and distress of mind about his soul's safety for eternity; and, in the latter part of the valley, the dread of an ignominious, and cruel, and sudden execution in the midst of his days-a fear more appalling than the prospect of a natural death. This he was enabled to bear, because he then enjoyed the light, the presence, and the approbation of his God-(ED).

[120]     The character now introduced under a most expressive name, is an admirable portrait, drawn by a masterly hand, from some striking original, but exactly resembling numbers in every age and place, where the truths of the Gospel are generally known. Such men are more conspicuous than humble believers, but their profession will not endure a strict investigation-(Scott). Reader, be careful not to judge harshly, or despise a real believer, who is blessed with fluency of utterance on Divine subjects-(ED).

[121]     As an outward profession, without a holy life, is no evidence of religion, neither are excellent gifts any proof that the persons who possess them are partakers of grace: so it is an awful fact, that some have edified the church by their gifts, who have themselves been destitute of the spirit of life-(Ivimey). I concluded, a little grace, a little love, a little of the true fear of God, is better than all gifts-(Grace Abounding).

[122]     The Pharisee goes on boldly, fears nothing, but trusteth in himself that his state is good; he hath his mouth full of many fine things, whereby he strokes himself over the head, and calls himself one of God's white boys, that, like the Prodigal's brother, never transgressed (Pharisee and Publican, vol. 2, p. 215).

[123]     Talkative seems to have been introduced on purpose that the author might have a fair opportunity of stating his sentiments concerning the practical nature of evangelical religion, to which numbers in his day were too inattentive; so that this admired allegory has fully established the important distinction between a dead and a living faith, on which the whole controversy depends-(Scott). "Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal" (1Co 13:1). Just thus it is with him who has gifts, but wants grace. Shall I be proud, because I am sounding brass? Is it so much to be a fiddle? Hath not the least creature that hath life, more of God in it than these?-(Grace Abounding, No. 297-300). Some professors are pretty busy and ripe, able to hold you in a very large discourse of the glorious Gospel; but, if you ask them concerning heart work, and its sweet influences and virtues on their souls and consciences, they may answer, I find by preaching that I am turned from my sins in a good measure, and have learned [in tongue] to plead for the Gospel. This is not far enough to prove them under the covenant of grace-(Law and Grace, vol. 1, p. 515).

[124] Read this, and tremble, ye whose profession lies only on your tongue, but who never knew the love and grace of Christ in your souls. 0 how do you trifle with the grace of God, with precious Christ, and with the holy Word of truth! 0 what an awful account have you to give hereafter to a holy, heart-searching God! Ye true pilgrims of Jesus, read this, and give glory to your Lord, for saving you from resting in barren notions, and taking up with talking of truths; and that he has given you to know the truth in its power, to embrace it in your heart, and to live and walk under its constraining, sanctifying influences. Who made you to differ?-(Mason).

[125]     This spiritual application of the law of Moses is found in the narrative of Bunyan's experience in the Grace Abounding, (No. 71): "I was also made, about this time, to see something concerning the beasts that Moses counted clean and unclean. I thought those beasts were types of men: the clean, types of them that were the people of God; but the unclean, types of such as were the children of the wicked one. Now, I read, that the clean beasts chewed the cud; that is, thought I, they show us we must feed upon the Word of God; they also parted the hoof, I thought that signified we must part, if we would be saved with the ways of ungodly men."

[126]     True faith will ever show itself by its fruits; real conversion, by the life and conversation. Be not deceived; God is not to be mocked with the tongue, if the heart is not right towards Him in love and obedience-(Mason).

[127]            This distinction between speaking against sin, and feeling a hatred to it, is so vastly important, that it forms the only infallible test to distinguish between those who are "quickened" by the Spirit of God, and those who "have a name to live and are dead." It is a very awful statement, but, it is to be feared, strictly correct, that ministers may declaim against sin in the pulpit, who yet indulge it in the parlour. There may be much head knowledge, where there is no heart religion-(Ivimey).

[128]     Christian faithfulness detects mere talkatives, and they complain, "in so saying thou condemnest us also"; they will bear no longer, but seek refuge under more comfortable preachers, or in more candid company, and represent those faithful monitors as censorious, peevish, and melancholy men-lying at the catch-(Scott).

[129]     In the Jerusalem Sinner Saved, Bunyan explains his meaning of "lying at the catch" in these solemn words, referring to those who abide in sin, and yet expect to be saved by grace: "Of this sort are they that build up Zion with blood, and Jerusalem with iniquity; that judge for reward, and teach for hire, and divine for money, and lean upon the Lord (Mic 3:10-11). This is doing things with a high hand against the Lord our God, and a taking Him, as it were, at the catch! This is, as we say among men, to seek to put a trick upon God, as if He had not sufficiently fortified his proposals of grace by his Holy Word, against all such kind of fools as these"-(Vol. 1, p. 93).

[130]     Blessed faithful dealing! 0 that it were more practised in the world, and in the church! How then would vain talkers be detected in the one, and driven out of the other-(Mason).

[131]                 Heart searching, soul examining, and close questioning of the conduct of life, will not do with talkative professors. Ring a peal on the doctrines of grace, and many will chime in with you; but speak closely how grace operates upon the heart, and influences the life to follow Christ in self-denying obedience, they cannot bear it; they are offended with you, and will turn away from you, and call you legal-(Mason).

[132]     I observe that, as there are trees wholly noble, so there are also their semblance; not right, but ignoble. There is the grape, and the wild grape; the rose, and the canker rose; the apple and the crab. Now, fruit from these wild trees, however it may please children to play with, yet the prudent count it of no value. There are also in the world a generation of professors that bring forth nothing but wild olive berries; saints only before men, devils and vipers at home; saints in word, but sinners in heart and life. Well, saith God, this profession is but a cloak: I will loose the reins of this man, and give him up to his own vile affections. "I will answer him by Myself' (Eze 14:7). Thou art too hard for the church: she knows not how to deal with thee. Well, I will deal with that man Myself-(Bunyan's Barren Fig-tree).

[133]     Where the heart is rotten, it will ward off conviction, turn from a faithful reprover, condemn him, and justify itself. Faithful dealing will not do for unfaithful souls. Mind not that, but be faithful to the truth-(Mason).

[134]     How they rejoiced again to meet Evangelist, and listen to his encouraging and animating exhortations; of which, as they were now near the great town of Vanity Fair, they would stand in special need. Indeed, it was to forewarn them of what they were to meet with there, and to exhort them, amidst all persecutions, to quit themselves like men, that Evangelist now came to them. His voice, so solemn and deep, yet so inspiring and animating, sounded like the tones of a trumpet on the eve of battle-(Cheever).

[135]           The pilgrims are now about to enter upon a new era-to leave their privacy in the wilderness, and commence a more public scene-perhaps alluding to Bunyan's being publicly set apart to the work of the ministry. It was in the discharge of these public duties that he was visited with such severe persecution. This interview with Evangelist reminds one of the setting apart of Dissenting ministers. It is usual, on these occasions, for the Christians entering on such important duties, to give a short account of what "had happened in the way," and their reasons for hoping that they were called by God to the work. They receive the advice of their ministering elder, and the pastor prays for their peace and prosperity. Evangelist's address would make a good outline of an ordination sermon. Bunyan's account of his being thus set apart in 1656 (with seven other members of the same church) is narrated in Grace Abounding, Nos. 266-270. The second address of Evangelist peculiarly relates to the miseries endured by Nonconformist ministers in the reign of Charles II-(ED).

[136]           Shall the world venture their soul's ruin for a poor corruptible crown; and shall not we venture the loss of a few trifles for an eternal crown? Shall they venture the loss of eternal life for communion with base, drunken, covetous wretches; and shall we not labour as hard, run as fast, nay, a hundred times more diligently, for such glorious and eternal friends as God to love, Christ to redeem, the Holy Spirit to comfort, and saints and angels in Heaven for company? Shall it be said at the last day, that the wicked made more haste to hell than you to Heaven? 0 let it not be so, but run with all might and main! They that will have Heaven must run for it, because the devil will follow them. There is never a poor soul that is gone to it, but he is after that soul. And I assure them the devil is nimble; he is light of foot, and can run apace. He hath overtaken many, tripped up their heels, and given them an everlasting fall- (Heavenly Footman).

[137]           Bunyan illustrates the care of Christ for his afflicted ones with striking simplicity. "I love to play the child with children. I have met with a child that had a sore finger, so that it was useless. Then have I said, Shall we cut off this finger, and buy my child a better, a brave golden finger? At this he started, and felt indignation against me. Now, if a child has such tenderness for a useless member, how much more tender is the Son of God to his afflicted members?"-(Saint's Privilege, vol. 1, p. 674). The text here quoted forms the foundation of Bunyan's admirable Advice to Sufferers, in which he delightfully dwells upon the topics which Evangelist addresses to the Pilgrims, when on the verge of bitter persecution-(ED).

[138]                   Vanity Fair is the City of Destruction in its gala dress, in its most seductive and sensual allurements. It is this world in miniature, with its various temptations. Hitherto we have observed the pilgrims by themselves, in loneliness, in obscurity, in the hidden life and experience of the people of God. The allegory thus far has been that of the soul, amidst its spiritual enemies, toiling towards Heaven; now there comes a scene more open, tangible, external; the allurements of the world are to be presented, with the manner in which the true pilgrim conducts himself amidst them. It was necessary that Bunyan should show his pilgrimage in its external as well as its secret spiritual conflicts; it was necessary that he should draw the contrast between the pursuits and deportment of the children of this world and the children of light; that he should show how a true pilgrim appears, and is likely to be regarded, who, amidst the world's vanities, lives above the world, is dead to it, and walks through it as a stranger and a pilgrim towards Heaven-(Cheever).

[139]  A just description of this wicked world. How many, though they profess to be pilgrims, have never yet set one foot out of this fair; but live in it all the year round! They "walk according to the course of this world" (Eph 2:2); for "the god of this world hath blinded their minds" (1Co 4:4). But all those for whose sins Jesus hath died "He delivers from this present evil world" (Ga 1:4). You cannot be a pilgrim, if you are not delivered from this world and its vanities; for if you love the world, if it has your supreme affections, the love of God is not in you, (1Jo 2:15); you have not one grain of precious faith in precious Jesus-(Mason).

[140]       Mr. James, who, in 1815, published the "Pilgrim" in verse, conjectures that Bunyan's description of the Fair arose from his having been at Sturbridge Fair, near Cambridge. It was thus described in 1786-"The shops or booths are built in rows like streets, having each its name; as Garlick Row, Bookseller's Row, Cook Row, &c. Here are all sorts of traders, who sell by wholesale or retail; as goldsmith's toymen, braziers, turners, milliners, haberdashers, hatters, mercers, drapers, pewterers, china warehouses, and in a word, most trades that can be found in London. Here are also taverns, coffeehouses, and eating-houses, in great plenty. The chief diversions are puppets, rope-dancing, and music booths. To this Fair, people from Bedfordshire and the adjoining counties still resort. Similar kinds of fairs are now kept at Frankfort and Leipzig. These mercantile fairs were very injurious to morals; but not to the extent of debauchery and villany, which reign in our present annual fairs, near the metropolis and large cities." See an account of this fair in Hone's Year Book, page 1538-(ED). Our author evidently designed to exhibit in his allegory the grand outlines of the difficulties, temptations, and sufferings, to which believers are exposed in this evil world; which, in a work of this nature, must be related as if they came upon them one after another in regular succession; though in actual experience several may meet together, many may molest the same person again and again, and some harass him in every stage of his journey. We should, therefore, singly consider the instruction conveyed by every allegorical incident, without measuring our experience, or calculating our progress, by comparing them with circumstances which might be reversed or altered with almost endless variety. In general, Vanity Fair represents the wretched state of things in those populous places especially, where true religion is neglected and persecuted; and, indeed, "in the whole world lying in wickedness," as distinguished from the church of "redeemed sinners"-(Scott).

[141]          Christ will not allow his followers to bury their talent in the earth, or to put their light under a bushel; they are not to go out of the world, or to retire into cloisters, monasteries, or deserts; but they MUST all go through this fair. Thus our Lord endured all the temptations and sufferings of this evil world, without being impeded or entangled by them, or stepping in the least aside to avoid them; and he was exposed to greater enmity and contempt than any of His followers-(Scott).

[142]  The world will seek to keep you out of Heaven with mocks, flouts, taunts, threatenings, jails, gibbets, halters, burnings, and deaths. There ever was enmity between the seed of the serpent and the seed of the woman, and no endeavours can reconcile them. The world says, They will never come over to us; and we again say, By God's grace we will not go over to them.

[143]     Holy Hunt of Hitchin, as he was called, a friend of Bunyan's, passing

the market-place where mountebanks were performing, one cried after him, "Look there, Mr. Hunt! Turning his head another way, he replied, "Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity"-(Ivimey).

[144]     An odd reply. What do they mean? That they are neither afraid nor ashamed to own what was the one subject of their souls' pursuit-the truth. Understand hereby, that the whole world, which lieth in wickedness, is deceived by a lie, and is under the delusion of the father of lies. In opposition to this, all believers in Christ are said to be of the truth (1Jo 3:19). They know and believe that capital truth with which God spake from Heaven, "This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased" (Mt 3:17). This truth-that Jesus is the Son of God, and our only Saviour-lies at the foundation of all their hope; and to get more and more acquainted with Him, is the grand object of their pursuits. For this the world hates them; and Satan, who is an enemy to this truth, stirs up the world against them. "For," says our Lord, "they are not of the world, even as I am not of the world" (Joh 17:16)-(Mason).

[145]     In 1670, the town porters of Bedford being commanded to assist in a brutal attack upon the Nonconformists, ran away, saying, "They would be hanged, drawn, and quartered, before they would assist in that work"; for which cause the justices committed two of them (which they could take) to the jail. The shops were shut up, so that it seemed like a place visited with the pest, where usually is written upon the door, "Lord, have mercy upon us!"-(Narrative of Proceedings against Nonconformists, p. 5. 4to, 1670).

[146]      This is a true representation of what took place in England in Bunyan's time. It was a disgrace to our nation, that Englishmen, urged on by a fanatic church, treated two young and interesting women with a barbarity that would make savages (so called) blush. It was at Carlisle that two female pilgrims, Dorothy Waugh and Ann Robinson, were dragged through the streets, with each an iron instrument of torture, called a bridle, upon their heads; and were treated with gross indecency-(ED).

[147]      The great object of the Gospel is to fit man for his active duties in this world, and prepare him for heavenly enjoyments in the world to come. Not like those lazy creeping things that shut themselves up in nunneries or monasteries to avoid the temptations and troubles, the resistance or hearing of which glorifies God. Christians are to be as lights-not hid under a bushel but seen of all men. The prayer of their Lord was and is, not that they should be taken out of the world, but kept from its evil contaminations-(ED).

[148]   In Bunyan's account of his imprisonment, he closes it with these words-"Thus have I, in short, declared the manner and occasion of my being in prison; where I lie waiting the good will of God to do with me as He pleaseth; knowing that not one hair of my head can fall to the ground without the will of my Father which is in Heaven. Let the rage and malice of men be ever so great, they can do no more, nor go any further, than God permits them. When they have done their worst, "we know that all things work together for good to them that love God" (Ro 8:28).

[149]   The description of the process against the pilgrims, is framed in such a manner as emphatically to expose the secret reasons which influence men thus to persecute their innocent neighbours. The very names employed declare the several corrupt principles of the heart from whence this atrocious conduct results-(Scott).

[150]   This is one of Satan's lies, much used by his emissaries, to the present day. A Christian fears God, and honours the king; he renders unto civil government that which belongs to civil and temporal things, but he dares not render unto Caesar the things that belong to God; and for thus righteously doing he is called disloyal-(ED).

[151]   Superstition, or false devotion, is a most bitter enemy to Christ's truth and his followers. This fellow's evidence is very true; for as the lawyer said of Christ's doctrine, "Master, thus saying, thou reproachest us also" (Lu 11:45). So false worshippers, who rest in forms, and rites, and shadows, are stung to the quick at those who worship God in the Spirit, rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the flesh; such a conduct pours the utmost contempt upon all the will-worship, and doctrines, and superstition of carnal men-(Mason). With such, traditions, human inventions, forms, and externals, appear venerable and sacred; and they are mistaken with pertinaceous ignorance for the substance of religion. What is pompous and burdensome appears to such men meritorious; and the excitement of mere natural passions, as at a tragedy, is falsely deemed a needful help to true devotion. Their zeal hardens their hearts, and causes bitter rage, enmity, and calumny, against the pious Christians-(Scott).

[152] As soon as the poor sinner says, "0 Lord our God, other lords beside Thee have had dominion over us: but by Thee only will we make mention of Thy name" (Isa 26:13), your officious Pickthanks are always ready to bear testimony against him; and a blessed testimony this is; it is well worth living to gain, and dying in the cause of. If we are real disciples of Christ, we shall, as He did, testify of the world that the works thereof are evil, and the world will hate us for His sake (Joh 7:7)-(Mason). Pickthank has no real principle, but puts on zeal for any party that will promote his interests; he inwardly despises both the superstitious and the spiritual worshipper-(Scott).

[153]     This is the Christian's plea and glory. While he knows "the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel" (Pr 12:10), yet he also knows that the "merciful kindness of the Lord is great, and the truth of the Lord endureth forever' (Ps 118:2)-(Mason).

[154]     A more just and keen satirical description of such legal iniquities can scarcely be imagined, than that contained in this passage. The statutes and precedents adduced, with a humourous reference to the style in which charges are commonly given to juries, show what patterns persecutors choose to copy, and whose kingdom they labour to uphold. Nor can any impartial man deny that the inference is fair, which our author meant the reader to deduce, namely, that nominal Protestants, enacting laws requiring conformity to their own creeds and forms, and inflicting punishments on such as peaceably dissent from them, are actually involved in the guilt of these heathen persecutors-(Scott).

[155]     These words, and this trial, were quoted (January 25, 1848) by the Attorney-General, at Westminster Hall, in answer to the manner in which Dr. Hampden was then charged with heresy by the Puseyites-(ED).

[156]     If the Lord were to leave us in the hands of men, we should still find that their tender mercies are cruel. Such a jury as tried Faithful might be found in every county of Britain-(Burder). To this may be added, that the witnesses are still living-(ED).

[157]     Nothing can be more masterly than the satire contained in this trial. The judge, the witnesses, and the jury, are portraits sketched to the life, and finished, every one of them, in quick, concise, and graphic touches; the ready testimony of Envy is especially characteristic. Rather than anything should be wanting that might be necessary to despatch the prisoner, he would enlarge his testimony against him to any requisite degree. The language and deportment of the judge are a copy to the life of some of the infamous judges under King Charles, especially Jefferies. You may find, in the trial of the noble patriot Algernon Sidney, the abusive language of the judge against Faithful almost word for word. The charge to the jury, with the Acts and laws on which the condemnation of the prisoner was founded, wax full of ingenuity and meaning-(Cheever).

[158]     Bunyan gives a good portrait of Faithful in his Howe of Lebanon, referring to the character of Pomporius Algerius, mentioned in Fox's Book of Martyrs. "Was not this man, think you, a giant? did he not behave himself valiantly? was not his mind elevated a thousand degrees beyond sense, carnal reason, fleshly love, and the desires of embracing temporal things? This man had got that by the end that pleased Him; neither could all the flatteries, promises, threats, reproaches, make him once listen to, or inquire after, what the world, or the glory of it could afford. His mind was captivated with delights invisible. He coveted to show his love to his Lord, by laying down his life for His sake. He longed to be where there shall be no more pain, nor sorrow, nor sighing, nor tears, nor troubles. He was a man of a thousand!" Speaking of the pillars in that house at Lebanon, he says, "These men had the faces of lions, they have triumphed in the flames."

[159]     This is a most exquisitely beautiful sketch; it is drawn to the life from many an era of pilgrimage in this world; there are in it the materials of glory, that constituted spirits of such noble greatness as are catalogued in the eleventh of Hebrews-traits of cruel mockings and scourgings, bonds and imprisonments-(Cheever).

[160]            Political interests engage ungodly princes to promote toleration, and chain up the demon of persecution. The cruelties they exercise disgust the people, and they are disheartened by the ill success of their efforts to extirpate the hated sect-(Scott).

[161]     I have often recorded it with thankfulness, that though in the dreary day of my pilgrimage, the Lord hath taken away a dear and faithful Christian friend, yet he has always raised up another. A very great blessing this, for which Christians can never be thankful enough-(Mason).

[162]     Is not this too much the case with professors of this day? The Spirit of truth says, "All that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution" (2Ti 3:12). But how many act as if they had found the art of making the Spirit of truth a liar! for they can so trim and shape their conduct, as they vainly think to follow Christ, and yet to keep in with the world, which is at enmity against Him-a most fatal and soul-deceiving error-(Mason).

[163]  What is this something that By-ends knew more than all the world? How to unite Heaven and hell-how to serve God and Mammon-how to be a Christian and a hypocrite at the same time. 0 the depth of the depravity of the human heart; alas! how many similar characters now exist, with two tongues in one mouth, looking one way and rowing another-(ED).

[164]  Fear not, therefore, in her for to abide, She keeps her ground, come weather, wind, or tide. -(Bunyan's House of God, vol. 2, p. 579). If we will follow Christ, He tells us that we must take up our cross. The wind sets always on my face; and the foaming rage of the sea of this world, and the proud and lofty waves thereof do continually beat upon the sides of the bark, or ship, that myself, my cause, and my followers are in-(Bunyan's Greatness of the Soul, vol. 1, p. 107).

[165]  Mind how warily these pilgrims acted to this deceitful professor. They did not too rashly take up an ill opinion against him; but when they had full proof of what he was, they did not hesitate one moment, but dealt faithfully with him, and conscientiously withdrew from him-(Mason). In a letter written in 1661, from Exeter jail, by Mr. Abraham Chear, a Baptist minister of Plymouth, who suffered greatly for nonconformity, and at length died in a state of banishment, there is this remark, "We have many brought in here daily, who go out again almost as soon, for a week in a prison tries a professor more than a month in a church"-(Ivimey).

[166]     It might have been supposed that the persons here introduced were settled inhabitants of the town of Vanity, or the City of Destruction; but, indeed, they professed themselves pilgrims, and desired, during the "sunshine," to associate with pilgrims, provided they would allow them to hold the world, love money, and save all, whatever became of faith and holiness, of honesty, piety, truth, and charity?-(Scott).

[167]     Pretended friends come with such expostulations as these: Why, dear Sir, will you give such offence? How much would it be for your comfort and interest in the world if you would but be a little more complying, and give way in some particular points and phrases. 0 what a syren's song! May the Lord enable every faithful servant to reply, "Get thee behind me, Satan"-(J. B.).

[168]     These words of Solomon are thus wickedly misapplied by many to the present day. Ec 7:16-17 probably refers to the administration of justice which should be tempered with mercy, but not with laxity; or it may refer to the foolish opinions expressed upon the characters of Pharisee and publican, exalting the one or decrying the other overmuch. It cannot be meant to censure the utmost efforts after true righteousness, nor to sanction the slightest degree of wickedness-(ED).

[169]Woe unto them who wander from the way. Art bound for hell, against all wind and weather? Or art thou one agoing backward thither? Or dost thou wink, because thou would'st not see? Or dost thou sideling go, and would'st not be Suspected Yet these prophets can thee tell, Which way thou art agoing down to hell. -(Ac 7:20-22. Bunyan's House of God, vol. 2, p. 582).

[170]     Notwithstanding By-ends could be reserved with faithful pilgrims, yet he can speak out boldly to those of his own spirit sad character. 0 the treacherous deceivings of the desperate wickedness of the human heart! Who can know it? No one but the heart-searching God-(Mason).

[171]     Some men's hearts are narrow upwards, and wide downwards: narrow as for God, but wide for the world. They gape for the one, but shut themselves up against the other. The heart of a wicked man is widest downward; but it is not so with the righteous man. His desires, like the temple Ezekiel saw in the vision, are still widest upwards, and spread towards Heaven. A full purse, with a lean soul, is a great curse. Many, while lean in their estates, had fat souls; but the fattening of their estates has made their souls as lean as a rake as to good-(Bunyan's Righteous Man's Desires, vol. 1, p. 745).

[172]  This dialogue is not in the least more absurd and selfish than the discourse of many who now attend on the preaching of the Gospel. If worldly lucre be the honey, they imitate the bee, and only attend to religion when they can gain by it; they determine to keep what they have at any rate, and to get more, if it can be done without open scandal-(Scott).

[173]       There is a fund of satirical humour in the supposed case here very gravely stated; and if the author, in his accurate observations on mankind, selected his example from among the mercenaries that are the scandal of the Established Church, her most faithful friends will not greatly resent this conduct of a dissenter-(Scott). Dr. Paley would have done well to have read this chapter in Bunyan before composing some of the chapters in his Moral Philosophy, and his Sermon on the Utility of Distinctions in the Ministry-(Cheever).

[174]            Here is worldly wisdom, infernal logic, and the sophistry of Satan. We hear this language daily, from money-loving professors, who are destitute of the power of faith. But in opposition to all this, the Holy Ghost testifies, "The love of money is the root of all evil" (1Ti 6:10), and a covetous man is an idolater (Col 3:5). Hear this, and tremble, ye avaricious professors. Remember, ye followers of the Lamb, ye are called to "let your conversation be without covetousness" (Heb, 13:5); your Lord testifies, "Ye cannot serve God and Mammon" (Lu 16:13)-(Mason).

[175]     How doth this commend itself to those who make merchandise of souls. What swarms of such locusts are there in this day!-(J.B.).

[176]     If thou art one who tradeth in both ways: God's now, the devil's then; or if delays Thou mak'st of coming to thy God for life; Or if thy light and lusts are at a strife About who should be master of thy soul, And lovest one, the other dost control; These prophets tell thee can which way thou bendest, On which thou frown'st, to which a hand thou lendest. -(Tit 1:16. See vol. 2, p. 582).

[177]     Bunyan, in his Holy Life the Beauty of Christianity, thus addresses such characters: "This is the man that hath the breath of a dragon; he poisons the air round about him. This is the man that slays his children, his kinsmen, his friend, and himself-he that offends God's little ones. 0 the millstone that God will shortly hang about your neck, when the time is come that you must be drowned in the sea and deluge of God's wrath!-(See vol. 2, p. 539). The answer of Christian, though somewhat rough, is so conclusive as to fortify every honest mind against all the arguments which the whole tribe of time-serving professors ever did, or ever can adduce, in support of their ingenious schemes and insidious efforts to reconcile religion with covetousness and the love of the world, or to render it subservient to their secular interests-(Scott).

[178]     Here see the blessedness of being mighty in the Scripture, and the need of that exhortation, "Let the Word of Christ dwell in you richly" (Col 3:16). For the Word of God is quick and powerful, and sharper than a two-edged sword; it pierces through all the subtle devices of Satan, and the cunning craftiness of carnal professors; and divideth asunder the carnal reasonings of the flesh, and the spiritual wisdom which cometh from above.

Teach me, my God and King, In all things THEE to see,

And what I do in any thing To do it as for THEE-(Mason).

[179]            The Hill Lucre stands somewhat out of the way, but temptingly near. They that will profit by the mine must turn aside for it (Pr 28:20,22). Sir J. Mandeville, in his Travels, says, that in the Vale Perilous is plenty of gold and silver, and many Christian men go in for the treasure, but few come out again, for this are strangled of the devil. But good Christian men, that are stable in the faith, enter without peril-(ED).

[180]     Eve expected some sweet and pleasant sight, that would tickle and delight her deluded fancy; but, behold sin, and the wrath of God, appear to the shaking of her heart; and thus, even to this day, doth the devil delude the world. His temptations are gilded with sweet and fine pretences, that men shall be wiser, richer, more in favour, live merrier, fare better, or something; and by such like things the fools are easily allured. But when their eyes are opened, instead of seeing what the devil falsely told them, they see themselves involved in wrath-(Bunyan on Genesis, vol. 2. p. 431).

[181]          Here you see the end of double-minded men, who vainly attempt to temper the love of money with the love of Christ. They go on with their art for a season, but the end makes it manifest what they were. Take David's advice, "Fret not thyself because of evil-doers" (Ps 37:1) "Be not thou afraid when one is made rich, when the glory of his house is increased" (Ps 49:16). But go thou into the sanctuary of thy God, read His Word, and understand the end of these men-(Mason). Often, as the motley reflexes of my experience move in long processions of manifold groups before me, the distinguished and world-honoured company of Christian mammonists appear to the eye of my imagination as a drove of camels heavily laden, yet all at full speed; and each in the confident expectation of passing through the eye of the needle, without stop or halt, both beasts and baggage-(Coleridge).

[182]     I have sometimes wondered at Lot. His wife looked behind her, and died immediately; but he would not so much as look behind him to see her. We do not read that he did so much as once look where she was, or what was become of her. His heart was set upon his journey; and well it might. There were the mountains before him, and the fire and brimstone behind him. His life lay at stake; and had he looked behind him he had lost it. Do thou so run, and "remember Lot's wife"-(Bunyan's Heavenly Footman).

[183]     In former times, the purse was carried hanging to a girdle round the waist, and great dexterity was requisite to cut and carry it away without the knowledge of the owner. Public executions for theft had so little effect in repressing crime, that thefts were committed in sight of, or even under the gallows-(ED).

[184]     Alas! poor pilgrims, like Peter, you soon forgot the judgment, although your sight of Lot's wife had so affected your spirits. How soon yon went into By-path Meadow! "wherefore, let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall" (1Co 10:12)-(ED).

[185]     By this river, which is called "a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb" (Re 22:1), we may understand clear and comfortable views of God's everlasting love and electing grace. They could see in it God's glory shining in the face of Jesus Christ, and view their own faces in it, to their inexpressible joy. This is the river "the streams whereof make glad the city of God" (Ps 46:4). The stream which flow from this river of electing love, are vocation to Christ, justification by Christ, sanctification in Christ, perseverance through Christ, glorification with Christ, and all joy and peace in believing on Christ. All this these pilgrims now enjoyed, and all this every fellow-citizen of the saints is called to enjoy in his pilgrimage to Zion. God hath chosen us in Christ, and blessed us with all spiritual blessings in Him. 0 how happy, peaceful, and joyful are pilgrims, when the Spirit takes of the things of Christ, shows them to us, and blesses us with a sense of interest in all the love of God, and finished salvation of Jesus!-(Mason).

[186]       Blessed state indeed, but of short duration! Too often these desirable consolations of the Spirit render the Christian careless and unwatchful-(Burder).

[187]       A scene to soothe and calm a mind fretted and harassed with the cares and turmoils of this every-day world; a sunny vista into the future, welcome in a weary hour to the worn spirit, which longs, as for the wings of the dove, that it may flee away, and be at rest; a glimpse of Sabbath quietness on earth, given as a pledge and foretaste of the more glorious and eternal Sabbath of Heaven-(Bernard Barton).

[188]       Now had I an evidence, as I thought, of my salvation from Heaven, with many golden seals thereon, all hanging in my sight. Now could I remember the manifestations of grace with comfort; and longed that the last day were come, that I might forever be inflamed with the sight, and joy, and communion with Him, whose soul was made an offering for my sins. Before this I lay trembling at the mouth of hell; now I had got so far therefrom that I could scarce discern it. 0, thought I, that I were fourscore years old, that I might die quickly, and my soul be gone to rest- (Grace Abounding, No. 128).

[189]       They should have said, It is true this way is not so pleasant as the meadow, but it is the Lord's way, and the best, doubtless, for us to travel in. A man speedily enters into temptation when he becomes discontented with God's allotments; then Satan presents allurements, and from wishing for a better way, the soul goes into a worse. The discontented wish is father to a sinful will; I wish for a better is followed by, I will have a better, and so the soul goes astray-(Cheever).

[190]     The transition into the by-path is easy, for it lies close to the right way; only you must get over a stile, that is, you must quit Christ's imputed righteousness, and trust in your own inherent righteousness; and then you are in By-path Meadow directly-(Mason).

[191]     The best caution I can give to others, or take myself, is, not to be guided in matters of faith by men, but to make the Scriptures our only rule-to look to God for the teaching of His blessed Spirit, that He may keep our feet from the ways of death-(J.B.).

[192]     "There is a way that seems right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death" (Pr 14:12). Vain confidence is this very way. 0 how easy do professors get into it! yea, real pilgrims are prone also to take up with it, owing to that legality, pride, and self-righteousness, which work in their fallen nature. See the end of it, and tremble; for it leads to darkness, and ends in death. Lord, humble our proud hearts, and empty us of self-righteousness, pride, and vain confidence-(Mason).

[193]     So, sometimes, real pilgrims take counsel and example of strangers, of worldly men, and of presumptuous careless persons. Vain confidence is a sad guide anywhere, but especially when one has wandered out of the way-(Cheever).

[194]       If thou be prying into God's secret decrees, or entertain questions about nice curiosities, thou mayest stumble and fall to thine eternal ruin. Take heed of that lofty spirit, that, devil-like, cannot be content with its own station-(Heavenly Footman).

[195]       The thunder and lightning plainly show that this by-path leads to Sinai, not to Zion. One step over the stile, by giving way to a self-righteous spirit, and you enter the territories of despair-(J. B.).

[196]       How varied is the experience of a Christian! he had just before overcome Demas, and conquered By-ends and his companions; is warned by Lot's wife, and now elated with the strength of his principles; boldness takes the place of caution; he ventures upon an easier path, and is involved in misery-(ED).

[197]       When Bunyan pleaded, so energetically, for the communion of saints, irrespective of water-baptism, one of his arguments was, "The strongest may sometimes be out of the way." "Receive ye one another as Christ also received us"-(Vol. 2, p. 610).

[198]       Here see, that as Christians are made helpful, so also, through prevailing corruptions, they are liable to prove hurtful to each other. But observe how grace works: it humbles, it makes the soul confess and be sorry for its misfortunes. Here is no reviling one another; but a tender sympathy and feeling concern for each other. 0 the mighty power of that grace and truth which came by Jesus Christ! How does it cement souls in the fellowship of love!-(Mason).

[199]     How easy it is to trace the path that led the pilgrims astray! To avoid the roughness of the way, they entered the by-path, that by measures of carnal policy they might avoid afflictions. Guided by Vain-confidence, they were led from the road, and when this Vain-confidence was destroyed, they were involved in distress and danger-(Ivimey).

[200]     The personification of Despair is one of the most instructive and beautiful portions of Bunyan's allegory. It appeals either to every man's experience, or to every man's sense of what may come upon him, on account of sin. It is at once, in some respects, the very gloomiest and very brightest part of the "Pilgrim's Progress"; for it shows at once to what a depth of misery sin may plunge the Christian, and also to what a depth the mercy of God in Christ may reach. The colouring of the picture is extremely vivid, the remembrance of it can never pass from the mind; and, as in a gallery of beautiful paintings, there may often be one that so strongly reminds you of your own experience, or that in itself is so remarkably beautiful as to keep you dwelling upon it with unabated interest; so it is with this delineation of Giant Despair, among the many admirable sketches of Bunyan's piety and genius. It is so full of deep life and meaning that you cannot exhaust it, and it is of such exquisite propriety and beauty that you are never tired with examining it-(Cheever).

[201]                     Sooner or later Doubting Castle will be the prison, and Giant Despair the keeper of all those who turn aside from Christ and His righteousness, to trust in any wise in themselves, and to their righteousness. "Our God is a jealous God," ever jealous of His own glory, and of the honour of His beloved Son-(Mason). So under the old cut, illustrating the Pilgrims in Doubting Castle, are these lines- "The pilgrims now, to gratify the flesh, Will seek its ease; but 0! how they afresh Do thereby plunge themselves new griefs into! Who seek to please the flesh, themselves undo."

[202]           Blessed sorrow! how many are there who never tasted the bread of Heaven, nor the water of life from the wells of salvation; who are strangers to the communion of saints, but do not feel themselves to be "in evil case," nor have wept under a sense of their wretched state-(ED).

[203]                     What! such highly-favoured Christians in Doubting Castle? After having traveled so far in the way of salvation, seen so many glorious things in the way, experienced so much of the grace and love of their Lord, and having so often proved His faithfulness? Is not this strange? No; it is common-the strongest Christians are liable to err and get out of the way, and then to be beset with very great and distressing doubts-(Mason). Despair, like a tremendous giant, will at last seize on the souls of all unbelievers; and when Christians conclude, from some misconduct, that they belong to that company, they are exposed to be taken captive by him. They do not, indeed, fall and perish with Vain-confidence; but for a season they find it impossible to rise superior to prevailing gloomy doubts bordering on despair, or to obtain the least comfortable hope of deliverance, or encouragement to use the proper means of seeking it-(Scott).

[204]                     The wife of Despair is Diffidence, or a distrust of God's faithfulness, and a want of confidence in His mercy. When a Christian follows such counsels, gloom and horror of mind will be produced, and life become a burden-(Ivimey).

[205]           Bunyan, in one of his delightful treatises of comfort against despair, introduces the following striking colloquy-"Says Satan, Dost thou not know that thou art one of the vilest in all the pack of professors? Yes, says the soul, I do. Says Satan, Dost thou not know that thou hast horribly sinned? Yes, says the soul, I do. Well, saith Satan, now will I come upon thee with my appeals. Art thou not a graceless wretch? Yes. Hast thou an heart to be sorry for this wickedness? No, not as I should. And albeit, saith Satan, thou prayest sometimes, yet is not thy heart possessed with a belief that God will not regard thee? Yes, says the sinner. Why, then, despair, and go hang thyself, saith the devil. And now we are at the end of the thing designed and driven at by Satan. But what shall I now do, saith the sinner? I answer, take up the words of the text against him, "That ye may be able to comprehend the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge-(Saints' Knowledge of Christ's Love, vol. 2, p. 37).

[206]       Giant Despair, it seems, has fits in sunshiny weather; that is, a gleam of hope, from Christ the Sun of righteousness, sometimes darted into their minds-(Burder).

[207]       Satan and his angels will not be wanting to help forward the calamity of the man, who, in coming to Christ, is beat out of breath, out of heart, out of courage, by wind that blows him backward. They will not be wanting to throw up his heels in their dirty places, nor to trouble his head with the fumes of their foul breath. And now it is hard coming to God; Satan has the art of making the most of every sin; he can make every hair on the head as big as a cedar. But, soul, Christ can save unto the uttermost! come, man, come. He can do exceeding abundantly above all we can ask or think!-(Bunyan's Complete Saviour, vol. 1, p. 209). Poor Christian! What! tempted to destroy thyself? Lord, what is man! But see, despairing souls, mark the truth of that word, "There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will, with the temptation, also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it" (1Co 10:13)-(Mason).

[208]     Bunyan had an acute sense of the exceeding sinfulness of sin, and no saint had suffered more severely from despair. One of his great objects, in most of his works, is to arm poor pilgrims against desponding fears. Thus, in his first treatise on Gospel Truths-"He (the devil) will be sure to present to thy conscience the most sad sentences of the Scripture; yea, and set them home with such cunning arguments, that if it be possible he will make thee despair, and make away thyself as did Judas"-(Vol. 2, p.132). Sin, when seen in its colours, and when appearing in its monstrous shape and hue, frighteth all mortals out of their wits, away from God, and, if He stops them not, also out of the world. This is manifest by Cain, Judas, Saul, and others. They fly from before God, one to one fruit of despair, and one to another-(Pharisee and Publican, vol. 2, p. 260).

[209]              An admirable chain of reasoning, pointing out the evils of despair, is to be found in the Jerusalem Sinner Saved (vol. 1, pp. 91, 92), under the head Fifthly. "It will make a man his own tormentor, and flounce and fling like a wild bull in a net (Isa 51:20). Despair! it drives a man to the study of his own ruin, and brings him at last to be his own executioner" (2Sa 17:3-5)-(ED).

[210]     Alas, how chang'd! Expressive of his mind, His eyes are sunk, arms folded, head reclin'd; Those awful syllables, hell, death, and sin, Though whisper'd, plainly tell what works within. -(Cowpers Hope).

"A wounded spirit who can bear?"

[211]  To bring the state of Christian's mind before us, read the lamentations of the Psalmist, when he was a prisoner in Doubting Castle, under Giant Despair, in Ps 88; and Bunyan's experience, as narrated in No. 163 of Grace Abounding. Despair swallowed him up, and that passage fell like a hot thunderbolt upon his conscience, "He was rejected, for he found no place for repentance"-(Ivimey).

[212]          Dr. Donne, the celebrated Dean of St. Paul's, had recently published a thesis, to prove that suicide, under some circumstances, was justifiable. Hopeful answers all his arguments, and proves it to be the foulest of murders. Bunyan, in his treatise on Justification, volume 1, page 314, thus notices the jailer's intent to commit suicide, when the doors of the prison in which Paul was confined were thrown open-"Even now, while the earthquake shook the prison, he had murder in his heart-murder, I say, and that of a high nature, even to have killed his own body and soul at once"-(ED).

[213]          Here is the blessing of a hopeful companion; here is excellent counsel. Let vain professors say what they may against looking back to past experiences, it is most certainly good and right so to do; not to encourage present sloth and presumption, but to excite fresh confidence of hope in the Lord. We have David's example, and Paul's word to encourage us to this, "The Lord that delivered me out of the paw of the lion, and out of the paw of the bear, he will deliver me out of the hand of this Philistine" (1Sa 17:37); and says Paul, "We had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves, but in God which raiseth the dead" (2Co 1:9)-(Mason).

[214]     It is a curious picture which Bunyan has drawn of the intercourse between the giant and his wife Diffidence. They form a very loving couple in their way; and the giant takes no new step in the treatment of the pilgrims without consulting Mrs. Diffidence over night, so that the curtain lectures to which we listen are very curious. But Mrs. Diffidence ought rather to have been called Dame Desperation, or Desperate Resolution; for she seems, if anything, the more stubborn genius of the two-(Cheever). By these conversations between Diffidence and Despair, after they had retired to bed, Bunyan perhaps designed to intimate that, as melancholy persons seldom get rest at night, the gloominess of the season contributes to the distress of their minds. So Asaph complains: "My sore ran in the night, and ceased not: my soul refused to be comforted" (Ps 67:2)-(Ivimey).

[215]     How would the awful lesson of the man in the iron cage, at the Interpreter's house, now recur to poor Christian's mind: "I cannot get out, 0 now I cannot! I left off to watch, and am shut up in this iron cage, nor can all the men in the world let me out." Christian's answer to the despairing pilgrim now soon broke upon his memory: "The Son of the Blessed is very pitiful"-(ED).

[216]     What! Pray in the custody of Giant Despair, in the midst of Doubting Castle, and when their own folly brought them there too? Yes; mind this, ye pilgrims, ye are exhorted, "I will that men pray everywhere, without doubting" (1Ti 2:8). We can be in no place but God can hear, nor in any circumstance but God is able to deliver us from. And be assured, that when the spirit of prayer comes, deliverance is nigh at hand-(Mason). Perhaps the author selected Saturday at midnight for the precise time when the prisoners began to pray, in order to intimate that the preparation for the Lord's day, which serious persons are reminded to make for its sacred services, are often the happy means of recovering those that have fallen into sin and despondency-(Scott).

[217]          All at once, by a new revelation, which none but the Saviour could make, Christian finds the promises. Christ had been watching over his erring disciples-He kept back the hand of Despair from destroying them-He binds up the broken heart, and healeth all their wounds-(Cheever). As a key enters all the intricate wards of a lock, and throws back its bolts, so the precious promises of God in his Word, if turned by the strong hand of faith, will open all the doors which unbelief and despair have shut upon us-(Burder).

[218]     Bunyan was a plain-spoken man, and feared not to offend delicate ears when truth required honest dealing. In his treatise on the Law and Grace, he says: "And therefore, my brethren, seeing God, our Father, hath sent us, damnable traitors, a pardon from Heaven, even all the promises of the Gospel, and hath also sealed to the certainty of it with the heart-blood of His dear Son, let us not be daunted-(Vol. 1, p. 562).

[219]              Precious promise! The promises of God in Christ are the life of faith, and the quickeners of prayer. 0 how oft do we neglect God's great and precious promises in Christ Jesus, while doubts and despair keep us prisoners! So it was with these pilgrims; they were kept under hard bondage of soul for four days. Hence see what it is to grieve the Spirit of God: for He only is the Comforter: and if He withdraws His influences, who or what can comfort us? Though precious promises are revealed in the Word, yet we can get no comfort from them but by the grace of the Spirit-(Mason).

[220]     It was Sabbath morning. The sun was breaking over the hills, and fell upon their pale, haggard countenances, it was to them a new creation; they breathed the fresh, reviving air, and brushed, with hasty steps, the dew from the untrodden grass, and fled the nearest way to the stile, over which they had wandered. They had learned a lesson by suffering, which nothing else could have taught them, and which would remain with them to the day of their death- (Cheever). The experience of these "three or four" dreadful days is specially recorded in Grace Abounding, (Nos. 261-263). The key which opened the doors in Doubting Castle was these words, applied with power to his soul, "I must go to Jesus," in connection with Heb 12:22-24. Of the first night of his deliverance he says, "I could scarcely lie in my bed for joy and peace, and triumph through Christ"-(ED).

[221]   They fell to devising what soldiers, and how many, Diabolus should go against Mansoul with, to take it; and after some debate, it was concluded that none were more fit for that expedition than an army of terrible DOUBTERS. They therefore concluded to send against Mansoul an army of sturdy doubters. Diabolus was to beat up his drum for 20 or 30,000 men in the Land of Doubting, which land lieth upon the confines of a place called Hell-gate Hill. Captain Rage was over the election doubters; his were the red colours; his standard-bearer was Mr. Destructive; and the great red dragon he had for his scutcheon. Captain Fury was over the vocation doubters; his standard-bearer was darkness; his colours were pale; and his scutcheon the fiery flying serpent. Captain Damnation was over the grace doubters; his were the red colours; Mr. No-life bore them; his scutcheon was the Black Den, &c.-(Holy War).

[222]   When offending Christians are brought to deep repentance, renewed exercises of lively faith, and willing obedience in those self-denying duties which they had declined, the Lord "restores to them the joy of His salvation," and their former comforts become more abundant and permanent. The Delectable Mountains seem intended to represent those calm seasons of peace and comfort-(Scott).

[223]   0 how many professors grow weary of the way, fall short, and fail of coming to the end! Though the way be too far, too strait, and too narrow for many who set out, and never hold out to the end; yet all who are begotten by the Word of grace, and born of the Spirit of truth, shall persevere to the end, being kept by the mighty power of God, through faith, unto eternal salvation (1Pe 1:5)-Mason).

[224]                     There is in this laconic description of the homely dreamer a richness of beauty which no efforts of the artist can adequately portray; and in the concise dialogue of the speakers, a simple sublimity of eloquence which any commentary could only weaken. While our feelings are excited by this description, we cannot but remember that "eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man: the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him"-(Bernard Barton).

[225]   Precious names! What is a pilgrim without knowledge? What is head-knowledge without heart-experience? And watchfulness and sincerity ought to attend us every step. When these graces are in us and abound, they make delectable mountains indeed-(Mason).

[226]                     Fine-spun speculations and curious reasonings lead men from simple truth and implicit faith into many dangerous and destructive errors-(Mason).

[227]     It is well for us to be much on this mount. We have constant need of caution. Take heed and beware, says our Lord. Paul takes the Corinthians up to this Mount Caution, and shows them what awful things have happened to professors of old; and he leaves this solemn word for us, "Wherefore, let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall" (1Co 10:12)-(Mason).

[228]                   0 the unthought-of imaginations, frights, fears, and terrors, that are effected by a thorough application of guilt, yielding to desperation! This is the man that hath his dwelling among the tombs with the dead, that is always crying out, and cutting himself with stones (Mr 5:3). But all in vain; desperation will not comfort him, the old covenant will not save him-(Grace Abounding, No. 185).

[229]          Some retain the name of Christ, and the notion of Him as a Saviour; but cast Him off in the very things wherein the essential parts of His sacrifice, merits, and priesthood consist. In this lies the mystery of their iniquity. They dare not altogether deny that Christ doth save His people, as a Priest; but then their art is to confound His offices, until they jostle out of doors the merit of His blood and the perfection of His justifying righteousness. Such draw away the people from the cross (put out their eyes), and lead them among the infidels-(Bunyan's Israel's Hope, vol. 1, p. 615).

[230]          Probably to guard pilgrims against the Popish doctrine of auricular confession-(ED).

[231]          Those seem to shun the common broad road; but having only the mark of religion, while their hearts are not right with God, are as effectually ruined as the most profligate and open offenders-(Burder).

[232]     Thus we read of some who were once enlightened, and had tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the world to come (Heb 6:6). It is hard to say how far or how long a person may carry on a profession, and yet fall away, and come short of the kingdom at last. This should excite to diligence, humility, and circumspection, ever looking to Jesus to keep us from falling-(Mason).

[233]     It reflects the highest credit on the diffidence of Bunyan's genius-a genius as rich in its inventions, and as aspiring in its imaginative flights, as ever poet could possess or lay claim to-that, after such an exordium, he should have made no effort minutely to describe what was in its own splendour of glory indescribable. How beautifully, without exciting any disappointment in a reader of taste, feeling, and judgment, does he, by a few artless words, render most impressive and sublime, what more elaborate description could only have made confused and unsatisfactory. Nothing can be more admirable than this brief and indistinct report of the perspective glass, it cannot offend the most fastidious taste, yet leaves scope for the exercise of the most ardent and aspiring imagination-(Bernard Barton). [234]

Such mountains round about this house do stand. As one from thence may see the Holy Land. - (Bunyan's House of God, vol. 2, p. 579).

[235] After going through the conflict with Apollyon, the Valley of the Shadow of Death, the scenes in Vanity Fair, and the dread experience of the pilgrims in Giant Despair's Castle, it is well to note what a gallery of solemn REALITIES is here, what a system of Divine truth, commending itself to all men's consciences. It is not so much the richness of imagination, nor the tenderness of feeling here exhibited, nor the sweetness and beauty of the imagery, with which this book is filled, as it is the presence of these REALITIES that constitutes the secret of its unbounded power over the soul. Walk up and down in this rich and solemn gallery. How simple are its ornaments! How grave, yet beautiful, its architecture! Amidst all this deep, serene beauty to the imagination, by how much deeper a tone do these pictures speak to the inner spiritual being of the soul! When you have admired the visible beauty of the paintings, turn again to seek their meaning in that light from eternity by which the artist painted them, and by which he would have all men examine their lessons, and receive and feel the full power of their colouring. In this light, the walls of this gallery seem moving with celestial figures speaking to the soul. They are acting the drama of a life which, by most men, is only dreamed of; but the drama is the reality, and it is the spectators only who are walking in a vain show-(Cheever).

[236]  This is the first break in the dream, and, doubtless, had an important meaning. Perhaps the pilgrimage may be divided into four parts: 1. The convert flying from the wrath to come; instructed at the Interpreter's house; relieved of his burden at the cross; ascends the Hill Difficulty; overcomes his timidity; and, 2. Enters a church at the House Beautiful; and, as a private member, continues his journey, until, 3. He meets Evangelist, near Vanity Fair, and is found fit to become an itinerant preacher; in which calling he suffers persecution, and obtains that fitness which enables him, 4. On the Delectable Mountains, to enter upon the responsible duties of a ministering elder or pastor of a church, and is ordained by Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere. Is this commencement of his public labours the important point when the author "awoke from his dream"?-(ED).

[237]  This country we are all born in; all are ignoramuses by nature. Some live long in the country of Conceit, and many end their days in it. Are you come out of it? So was Ignorance; but he breathed his native air. So long as a sinner thinks he can do anything towards making himself righteous before God, his name is Ignorance; he is full of self-conceit, and destitute of the faith of Christ-(Mason).

[238]  Now, is it not very common to hear professors talk at this rate? Yes, and many who make a very high profession too; their hopes are plainly grounded upon what they are in themselves, and how they differ from their former selves and other sinners, instead of what Christ is to us and what we are in Christ. But the profession of such is begun with an ignorant, whole, self-righteous heart; it is continued in pride, self-seeking, and self-exalting, and ends in awful disappointment. For such are called by our Lord thieves and robbers; they rob Him of the glory of His grace and the gift of His imputed righteousness-(Mason).

[239]     It is best not to converse much at once with persons of this character, but, after a few warnings, to leave them to their reflections; for their self-conceit is often cherished by altercations, in which they deem themselves very expert, however disgusting their discourse may prove to others-(Scott).

[240]     An awful scene was beheld by the pilgrims. A professor, named Turn-away, bound with seven cords, was led by devils to the by-way to hell. Let everyone inquire, Who is this wanton professor?-He who discovers a trifling, worldly, wanton spirit, dreads not the appearance of evil, complies with the fashions of the carnal world, and associates with the enemies of our Lord; and, in time, becomes a damnable apostate. Lord, keep us from such a beginning and such an end!-(Burder).

[241]     The "very dark lane" in which "Turn-away" was met by the pilgrims, represents the total darkness of the minds of such wicked professors; for "if the light that is in them be darkness, how great is that darkness!" When their characters are made manifest, they are ashamed to look their former pious friends in the face. "The wicked shall be holden with the cords of his sins" (Pr 5:22)-(Ivimey).

[242]  0 beware of a light trifling spirit and a wanton behaviour. It is often the forerunner of apostasy from God. It makes one tremble to hear those who profess to follow Christ in the regeneration, crying, What harm is there in this game and the other diversion? The warmth of love is gone, and they are become cold, dead, and carnal. 0 how many instances of these abound!-(Mason).

[243]  In times of persecution, loose professors are driven down Dead Man's Lane to Broad-way Gate; thus Satan murders the souls of men, by threatening to kill their bodies. Believers that are weak in faith are betrayed into sinful compliances; they sleep when they ought to watch, they conceal or deny their profession, and thus contract guilt; Faint-heart assaults them, Mistrust plunders them, and Guilt beats them down-(Scott).

[244]  The fly in the spider's net is the emblem of the soul in such a condition. If the soul struggleth, Satan laboureth to hold it down. If it make a noise, he bites it with blasphemous mouth; insomuch that it must needs die at last in the net, if the Lord Jesus help not. Believing is sure sweating work. Only strong faith can make Satan flee. 0 the toil of a gracious heart in this combat, if faith be weak! The man can get no higher than his knees, till an arm from Heaven help him up-(Bunyan's Holy City).

[245]     When Bunyan was imprisoned, his sentence was-To be transported, if he did not conform in three months; and then, if found as a Nonconformist, in this country, he should be hung. Determined at all hazards not to be a traitor to his God, he anticipated being hung; and was anxious, in such a cause, to meet death with firmness. When his fears prevailed, he dreaded lest he should make but a scrabbling shift to clamber up the ladder-(See Grace Abounding, No. 334).

[246]     Where there is a faint heart in God's cause, and mistrust of God's truths, there will be guilt in the conscience, and but little faith. These rogues will prevail over, and rob such souls of the comforts of God's love and of Christ's salvation. By his jewels, we may understand those radical graces of the Spirit-faith, hope, and love. By his spending-money, the sealing and earnest of the Spirit in his heart (2Co 1:22). Of this Divine assurance, and the sense of the peace and joy in the Holy Ghost, he was robbed; so that, though he still went on in the ways of the Lord, yet he dragged on but heavily and uncomfortably-(Mason).

[247]     Bunyan throws great light upon this subject in his Christ a Complete Saviour, (vol. 1, p. 215)-"We are saved by Christ; brought to glory by Christ; and all our works are no otherwise made acceptable to God, but by the person and excellencies of Christ. Therefore, whatever the jewels are, and the bracelets and the pearls that thou shalt be adorned with, as a reward of service done to God in this world, for them thou must thank Christ, and, before all, confess that He was the meritorious cause thereof."

[248]     What was this good thing? His precious faith, whose author, finisher, and object is precious Jesus. And where he gives this precious gift of faith, though it be but little, even as a grain of mustard-seed, not all the powers of earth and hell can rob the heart of it. Christ prayed for His disciple that his faith should not fail, or be totally lost; therefore, though Peter lost his comforts for a season, yet not his faith totally, not his soul eternally; for, says Jesus, of all his dear flock, yea, of those of little faith too, None shall pluck them out of My hand. There is one blessed security, not in ourselves, but in our Lord-(Mason).

[249]                 Hope, love, humility, meekness, patience, longsuffering, compassion, and mercy, are gracious dispositions wrought in the heart by the Holy Ghost. These are the believer's jewels; and it is his duty to keep them clean, that their beauty and lustre may be apparent-(Andronicus).

[250]     Little-faith cannot come all the way without crying. So long as its holy boldness lasts, so long it can come with peace, but it will go the rest of the way with crying-(Bunyan's Come and Welcome, vol. 1, p. 288).

[251]     Bunyan shows the difference between "his spending-money," or that treasure which the Christian carries in his earthen vessel, and his jewels, in Grace Abounding (No. 232)-"It was glorious to me to see His [Christ's] exaltation. Now I could look from myself to Him, and should reckon that all those graces of God that now were green in me, were yet but like those cracked groats and fourpence-halfpennies, (Irish sixpences, which, in the dearth of silver coin in England, were made current at fourpence-halfpenny-ED), that rich men carry in their purses, when their GOLD is in their trunks at home. Oh! I saw that my gold was in my trunk at home, in Christ my Lord and Saviour. Now, Christ was all; all my wisdom, all my righteousness, all my sanctification, and all my redemption."

[252]  Hopeful was not the first pilgrim who has been "almost made angry" while holding a friendly debate upon that highly-important subject, the doctrine of the saints' final perseverance. Pilgrims ought to debate upon those subjects without being angry-(ED).

[253]            Hopeful here expresses himself as if he had read Bunyan on Christ's Love-"But to fear man is to forget God. He taketh part with them that fear HIM; so that we may boldly say, "The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me" (Heb 13:6). Would it not be amazing to see a man encompassed with chariots, and horses, and weapons of defence, yet afraid of being sparrow-blasted, or overrun by a grasshopper?"-(Vol. 2, p. 13).

[254]  Who can stand in the evil day of temptation, when beset with Faint-heart, Mistrust, and Guilt, backed by the power of their master, Satan? No one, unless armed with the whole armour of God; and even then, the power of such infernal foes makes it a hard fight to the Christian. But this is our glory, the Lord shall fight for us, and we shall hold our peace. We shall be silent as to ascribing any glory to ourselves, knowing our very enemies are part of ourselves, and that we are more than conquerors over all these (only) through HIM who loved us (Ro 8:37)-(Mason).

[255]     "One Great-grace"; a believer, or minister, who having honourably stood his ground, endeavours to restore the fallen. The remembrance of such, helps to drive away despondency, and inspires the trembling penitent with hope of mercy-(Scott).

[256]     "I trow"; I imagine or believe: nearly obsolete-(ED).

[257]     Now here you see what is meant by Great-grace, who is so often mentioned in this book, and by whom so many valiant things were done. We read, "With great power the apostles gave witness of the resurrection of Jesus." Why was it? Because "great grace was upon them all" (Ac 4:33). So you see all is of grace, from first to last, in salvation. If we do great things for Christ, yet, not unto us, but unto the great grace of our Lord, be all the glory-(Mason).

[258]     If we saw our own weakness, we should never court dangers, nor run in the way of temptation; yet, if our temptations be ever so sharp and strong, and our dangers ever so great, if the Lord is our strength, we need not fear-(J. B.).

[259]     From this sweet and edifying conversation, learn not to think more highly of yourself than you ought to think; but to think soberly, according to the measure of faith which God hath dealt to you (Ro 12:3). Now, it is of the very essence of faith to lead us out of all self-confidence and vain vaunting. For we know not how soon Faint-heart, Mistrust, and Guilt may spring up in us, and rob us of our comforts, and spoil our joys-(Mason).

[260]     Instead of saying, "Though all men deny thee, yet will not I," it behooves us to use all means of grace diligently, and to be instant in prayer, that the Lord Himself may protect us by His power, and animate us by His presence, and then only shall we be enabled to overcome both the fear of man and the temptations of the devil-(Scott).

[261]     But how contrary to this is the walk and conduct of some who profess to be pilgrims, and yet can willfully and deliberately go upon the devil's ground, and indulge themselves in carnal pleasures and sinful diversions! Such evidently declare in plain language, that they desire not the presence of God, but that He should depart from them; but a day will come which will bring on terrible reflections of mind for such things-(Mason).

[262]     Mr. Ivimey's opinion is, that this "way which put itself into their way," and the flatterer, relates to Antinomianism. Of this I can form no accurate judgment, never having met with an Antinomian, or one who professed to be against the law of God. I have met with those who consider that believers are bound to prefer the law of God as revealed by Jesus Christ, in Mt 22:37-40, to be their rule of life, instead of limiting themselves to the law of God as given by Moses, in Ex 20; but it has been for this reason, that the law proclaimed by Christ unites in it the law given by Moses, and ALL the law and the prophets. This law, as given by Christ, is in a few words of beautiful simplicity, which can neither be misunderstood nor be forgotten. Mason says, "It is plain the author means the way of self-righteousness," into which the flatterer enticed the pilgrims, out of the Scripture highway to Heaven, in the righteousness of Christ. When ministers differ, private Christians must think for themselves. My judgment goes with Mr. Mason-(ED). This way, which seemed as straight as the right way, and in entering on which there was no stile to be passed, must denote some very plausible and gradual deviation from the simplicity of the Gospel, in doctrine or practice. If, in such a case, instead of a personal prayerful searching the Scripture, we rely upon the opinion of our friends, and listen to the flatterer, we shall certainly be misled-(Scott).

[263]       Luther was wont to caution against the white devil as much as the black one; for Satan transforms himself into an angel of light, and his ministers as ministers of righteousness (2Co 11:14-15). And how do they deceive souls? By flattery. Leading poor sinners into a fine notion of some righteous character they have in themselves, what great advances they have made, and what high attainments they have arrived to, even to be perfect in themselves, to be free from sin, and full of nothing but love. These are black men clothed in white-(Mason).

[264]     By this shining one understand the loving Lord the Holy Ghost, the leader and guide of Christ's people. When they err and stray from Jesus the way, and are drawn from Him as the truth, the Spirit comes with His rod of conviction and chastisement, to whip souls for their self-righteous pride and folly, back to Christ, to trust wholly in Him, to rely only on Him, and to walk in sweet fellowship with Him. So he acted by the Galatian church, which was flattered into a notion of self-righteousness, and self-justification. So David, when he found himself nearly lost, cries out, "He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake" (Ps 23:3)-(Mason). The devil, in his attempts after our destruction, maketh use of the most suitable means. The serpent, Adam knew, was subtle, therefore Satan useth him, thereby to catch this goodly creature, man. Hereby the devil least appeared [this fine-spoken man], and least appearing, the temptation soonest took the tinder-(Bunyan on Genesis, vol. 2, p. 428).

[265]     The backsliding of a Christian comes through the overmuch persuading of Satan and lust; that the man was mistaken, and that there was no such horror in the things from which he fled; nor so much good in the things to which he hosted. Turn again, fool, says the devil. I wonder what frenzy it was that drove thee to thy heels, and that made thee leave so much good behind thee as other men find in the lusts of the flesh and the good of the world. As for the law, and death, and the day of judgment, they are but mere scarecrows, set up by politic heads, to keep the ignorant in subjection. Well, he goes back, fool as he is, conscience sleeps, and flesh is sweet; but, behold, he again sees his own nakedness-he sees the law whetting his axe-the world is a bubble. He also smells the brimstone which begins to burn within him. Oh! saith he, I am deluded! "Have mercy upon me, 0 God!"-(Christ a Complete Saviour, vol. 1, p. 223).

[266]  A wicked man, though he may hector it at times with his proud heart, as though he feared neither God nor hell; yet again, at times, his soul is even drowned with terrors. If one knew the wicked, when they are under warm convic-tions, then the bed shakes on which they be; then the proud tongue doth falter in their mouth, and their knees knock one against another. Then their conscience stares, and roars, and tears, and arraigns them. 0! none can imagine what fearful plights a wicked man is in at times!-(Bunyan's Desires of the Righteous, vol. 1, p. 746).

[267]  On the Delectable Mountains, the pilgrims had a sight of the Celestial City. No matter if it were but a glimpse; still they saw it, they really saw it, and the remembrance of that sight never left them. There it was in glory! Their hands trembled, their eyes were dim with tears, but still that vision was not to be mistaken. There, through the rifted clouds, for a moment, the gates of pearl were shining, the jasper walls, the endless domes, the jeweled battlements! The splendour of the city seemed to pour, like a river of light, down upon the spot where they were standing-(Cheever).

[268]     See how we are surrounded with different enemies! No sooner have they escaped the self-righteous flatterer, but they meet with the openly profane and licentious mocker-aye, and he set out, and went far too; yea, further than they. But, behold, he has turned his back upon all; and though he had been 20 years a seeker, yet now he proves, that he has neither faith nor hope, but ridicules all as delusion. Awful to think of! 0 what a special mercy to be kept believing and persevering, and not regarding the ridicule of apostates!-(Mason).

[269]          "To round"; to be open, sincere, candid. "Maister Bland answered flatly and roundly"-(Fox's Book of Martyrs).

[270]     Upon the declaration for liberty of conscience, the church for a season was free from persecution. It was like enchanted ground; and some, who had been watchful in the storm, became careless and sleepy in this short deceitful calm-(ED).

[271]          Ah, these short naps for pilgrims! The sleep of death, in the enchanted air of this world, usually begins with one of these short naps-(Cheever).

[272]       The Enchanted Ground may represent worldly prosperity; agreeable dispensations succeeding long-continued difficulties. This powerfully tends to produce a lethargic frame of mind; the man attends to religious duties more from habit, than from delight in the service of God. No situation requires so much watchfulness. Other experiences resemble storms, which keep a man awake; this is a treacherous calm, which lulls him to sleep-(Scott).

[273]  0 Christian, beware of sleeping on this enchanted ground! When all things go easy, smooth, and well, we are prone to grow drowsy in soul. How many are the calls in the Word against spiritual slumber! and yet how many professors, through the enchanting air of this world, are fallen into the deep sleep of formality! Be warned by them to cry to thy Lord to keep thee awake to righteousness, and vigorous in the ways of thy Lord-(Mason).

[274]       Here you see, as our Lord says, "It is the Spirit who quickeneth, the flesh profiteth nothing" (Joh 6:63). Our carnal nature is so far from profiting in the work of conversion to Christ, that it is at enmity against Him, and opposes the Spirit's work in showing us our want of Him, and bringing us to Him. Man's nature and God's grace are two direct opposites. Nature opposes, but grace subdues nature, and brings it to submission and subjection. Are we truly convinced of sin, and converted to Christ? This is a certain and sure evidence of it-we shall say from our hearts, Not unto us, nor unto any yieldings and compliances of our nature, free-will, and power, but unto Thy name, 0 Lord, be all the glory. For it is by Thy free, sovereign, efficacious grace, we are what we are. Hence, see the ignorance, folly, and pride of those who exalt free-will, and nature's power, &c. Verily they do not know themselves, even as they are known-(Mason).

[275]  Not the evil of sin in the sight of God, but the remorse and fear of wrath, with which the convinced sinner is oppressed, and from which he, at times, seeks relief by means which exceedingly increase his actual guilt. Nothing but a free pardon, by faith in the atoning sacrifice of Christ, can take away guilt; but the uneasiness of a man's conscience may be for a time removed by various expedients-(Scott).

[276]       In modern editions, this has been altered to "sin enough in one day." But in any period of time, selecting that duty in the discharge of which we have felt the most pure, there has been a mixture of sin. "For there is not a day, nor a duty; not a day that thou livest, nor a duty that thou dost, but will need that mercy should come after to take away thy iniquity"-(Bunyan's Saints' Privilege, vol. 1, p. 679). These are solemn and humbling reflections-(ED).

[277]  Thus, you see, in conversion, the Lord does not act upon us as though we were mere machines. No, we have understanding; He enlightens it. Then we come to a sound mind; we think right, and reason justly. We have wills; what the understanding judges best, the will approves, and then the affections follow after; and thus we choose Christ for our Saviour, and glory only in His righteousness and salvation. When the heavenly light of truth makes manifest what we are, and the danger we are in, then we rationally flee from the wrath to come, to Christ the refuge set before us-(Mason).[278] Pray mind this. The grand object of a sensible sinner is righteousness. He has it not in himself; this he knows. Where is it to be found? In Christ only. This is a revealed truth; and without faith in this, every sinner must be lost. Consider, it is at the peril of your soul that you reject the righteousness of Christ; and do not believe that God imputeth it without works for the justification of the ungodly. 0 ye stout-hearted, self-righteous sinners, ye who are far from righteousness, know this and tremble!-(Mason).

[279]     The true nature of faith is to believe and rest upon the Word of truth, and wait for the promised comfort. That faith which is the gift of God leads the soul to wait upon and cry to God, and not to rest till it has some blessed testimony from God of interest in the love and favour of God in Christ Jesus. But 0 how many professors rest short of this!-(Mason).

[280]     As I thought my case most sad and fearful, these words did with great power suddenly break in upon me, "My grace is sufficient for thee," three times together. 0! methought every word was a mighty word for me; as My, and grace, and sufficient, and for thee; they were then, and sometimes are still, far bigger than others be-(Grace Abounding, No. 206).

[281]     The Lord's dealings with his children are various, but all lead to the same end; some are shaken with terror, while others are more gently drawn, as with cords of love. In these things believers should not make their experiences standards one for another; still there is a similarity in their being brought to the same point of rejecting both sinful and righteous self, and believing on the Lord Jesus Christ as their complete salvation-(Andronicus).

[282]          Christ did not appear to Hopeful's senses, but to his understanding; and the words spoken are no other than texts of Scripture taken in their genuine meaning-not informing him, as by a new revelation, that his sins were pardoned, but encouraging him to apply for this mercy, and all other blessings of salvation-(Scott).

[283]     Since the dear hour that brought me to Thy foot, And cut up all my follies by the root, I never trusted in an arm but Thine, Nor hoped, but in Thy righteousness Divine. My prayers and alms, imperfect and defiled, Were but the feeble efforts of a child. Howe'er perform'd, it was their brightest part That they proceeded from a grateful heart. Cleans'd in Thine own all-purifying blood, Forgive their evil, and accept their good. I cast them at Thy feet-my only plea Is what it was, DEPENDENCE UPON THEE! (Cowper).

[284]     Not governed by the Word of God, but by his own will, his grounds of confidence for salvation unfitted him for Christian fellowship, unless he happened to fall in with a man who had imbibed his own notions-(ED).

[285]     The desire of Heaven-when its nature is not understood, the proper means of obtaining it are neglected, other objects are preferred to it-is no proof that a man will be saved. The expression, "The desire of grace is grace," is very fallacious. But to hunger and thirst for God, and His righteousness, His favour, image, and service, as the supreme good, so that no other object can satisfy the heart, is grace indeed, and shall be completed in glory-(Scott).

[286]     Real Christians are often put to a stand, while they find and feel the workings of all corruptions and sins in their nature; and when they hear others talk so highly of themselves, how full their hearts are of love to God, and of good motions, without any complainings of their hearts. But all this is from the ignorance of their own hearts; and pride and self-righteousness harden them against feeling its desperate wickedness-(Mason).

[287]     I saw that it was not my good frame of heart that made my righteousness better, nor yet my bad frame that made my righteousness worse; for my righteousness was Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and today, and forever (Heb 13:8)-(Grace Abounding, No. 229).

[288]     Here we see how naturally the notion of man's righteousness blinds his eyes to, and keeps his heart from believing, that Christ's personal righteousness alone justifies a sinner in the sight of God; and yet such talk bravely of believing, but their faith is only fancy. They do not believe unto righteousness; but imagine they have now, or shall get, a righteousness of their own, some how or other. Awful delusion!-(Mason).

[289]     Here is the very essence of that delusion which works by a lie, and so much prevails, and keeps up an unscriptural hope in the hearts of so many professors. Do, reader, study this point well; for here seems to be a show of scriptural truth, while the rankest poison lies concealed in it. For it is utterly subversive of, and contrary to, the faith and hope of the Gospel-(Mason).

[290]     The way of being justified by faith for which Ignorance pleads may well be called "fanatical," as well as "false"; for it is nowhere laid down in Scripture; and it not only changes the way of acceptance, but it takes away the rule and standard of righteousness, and substitutes a vague notion, called sincerity, in its place, which never was, nor can be, defined with precision-(Scott).

[291]            Justification before God comes, not by imitating Christ as exemplary in morals, but through faith in His precious blood. To feed on Jesus is by respecting Him as made of God a curse for our sin. I have been pleased with observing, that none of the signs and wonders in Egypt could deliver the children of Israel thence, until the lamb was slain- (Bunyan on Justification, vol. 2, p. 330).

[292]       Under these four heads, we have a most excellent detection of a presumptive and most dangerous error which now greatly prevails, as well as a scriptural view of the nature of true faith, and the object it flies on wholly and solely for justification before God, and acceptance with God. Reader, for thy soul's sake, look to thy foundation. See that thou build upon nothing in self, but all upon that sure foundation which God hath laid, even his beloved Son, and his perfect righteousness-(Mason).

[293]       This, by all natural men, is deemed the very height of enthusiasm; but a spiritual man knows its blessedness, and rejoices in its comfort. It is a close question. What may we understand by it? Doubtless, what Paul means when he says, "It pleased God to reveal His Son in me," (Ga 1:15-16): that is, he had such an internal, spiritual, experimental sight, and knowledge of Christ, and of salvation by Him, that his heart embraced Him, his soul cleaved to Him, his spirit rejoiced in Him; his whole man was swallowed up with the love of Him, so that he cried out in the joy of his soul, This is my Beloved and my Friend-my Saviour, my God, and my Salvation. He is the chief of ten thousand, and altogether lovely. We know nothing of Christ savingly, comfortably, and experimentally, till He is pleased thus to reveal Himself to us (Mt 11:27). This spiritual revelation of Christ to the heart is a blessing and comfort agreeable to, and consequent upon, believing on Christ, as revealed outwardly in the Word. Therefore, every believer should wait, and look, and long, and pray for it. Beware you do not despise it; if you do, you will betray your ignorance of spiritual things, as Ignorance did-(Mason).

[294]          Many of these revelations appear in the Grace Abounding, as "that scripture fastened on my heart" (No. 201); "that sentence darted in upon me" (No. 204); "these words did with great power break in upon me" (No. 206); "suddenly this sentence fell upon my soul" (No. 229); and many others-(ED).

[295]     That sinner is not thoroughly awakened, who does not see his need of Christ's righteousness to be imputed to him. Nor is he quickened, who has not fled to Christ as "the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth" (Ro 10:4)-(Mason).

[296]          Ignorant professors cannot keep pace with spiritual pilgrims, nor can they relish the doctrine of making Christ all in all, in the matter of justification and salvation, and making the sinner nothing at all, as having no hand in the work, nor getting any glory to himself by what he is able to do of himself. Free grace and free will; Christ's imputed righteousness, and the notion of man's personal righteousness, cannot accord-(Mason).

[297]     Take heed of hardening thy heart at any time, against convictions or judgments. I bid you before to beware of a hard heart; now I bid you beware of hardening your soft heart. The fear of the Lord is the pulse of the soul. Pulses that beat best are the best signs of life; but the worst show that life is present. Intermitting pulses are dangerous. David and Peter had an intermitting pulse, in reference to this fear-(Bunyan on the Fear of God, vol. 1, pp. 487, 489). [298] Mark well Christian's definition of "fear." It is one of those precious passages in which our author gives us the subject matter of a whole treatise in a few short and plain sentences. Treasure it up in your heart, and often ponder it there. It will prove, through the blessing of the Spirit, a special means of enlivening, when spiritual langour, in consequence of worldly ease, is creeping upon your soul-(Andronicus).

[299]     "Pitiful old self-holiness." Mind this phrase. Far was it from the heart of good Mr. Bunyan to decry personal holiness. It is nothing but self-holiness, or the holiness of the old man of sin; for true holiness springs from the belief of the truth, and love to the truth. All besides this only tends to self-confidence, and self-applause-(Mason).

[300]     It is good to call to mind one's own ignorance, when in our natural estate, to excite humility of heart, and thankfulness to God, who made us to differ, and to excite pity towards those who are walking in nature's pride, self-righteousness, and self-confidence-(Mason).

[301]          "Temporary"; one who is doctrinally acquainted with the Gospel, but a stranger to its sanctifying power. The reasons and manner of such men's declensions and apostasy are very justly and emphatically stated-(Scott).

[302]     In Hoffman's poetical version of the "Pilgrim," this sentence is, "And nature will return, like Pope, to pork"; alluding to one of the Popes, who used daily to have a dish of pork; but, being sick, his physicians forbade it, when the Pope, in a rage, cried out, "Give me my pork, in spite of God"-(ED).

[303]     A true description of the state of some professors. Here see the reason why so many saints, as they are called, fall away. From hence, some take occasion to deny the scriptural, soul-comforting doctrine, of the certain perseverance of God's saints unto eternal glory. So they display the pride of their own hearts, their ignorance of God's Word, while they make God's promises of no effect, and the Gospel of his grace, only much ado about nothing-(Mason).

[304]          Three young fellows, Mr. Tradition, Mr. Human-wisdom, and Mr. Man's-invention, proffered their services to Shaddai. The captains told them not to be rash; but, at their entreaty, they were listed into Boanerges' company, and away they went to the war. Being in the rear, they were taken prisoners. Then Diabolus asked them if they were willing to serve against Shaddai. They told him, that as they did not so much live by religion as by the fates of fortune, they would serve him. So he made two of them sergeants; but he made Mr. Man's-invention his ancient-bearer [standard-bearer] (Bunyan's Holy War).

[305]       See how gradually, step by step, apostates go back. It begins in the unbelief of the heart, and ends in open sins in the life. Why is the love of this world so forbidden? Why is covetousness called idolatry? Because, whatever draws away the heart from God, and prevents enjoying close fellowship with him, naturally tends to apostasy from him. Look well to your hearts and affections. "Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life" (Pr 4:23). If you neglect to watch, you will be sure to smart under the sense of sin on earth, or its curse in hell. "See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil" (Eph 5:15-16)-(Mason).

[306]  0 what a blessed state! what a glorious frame of soul is this! Job speaks of it as the candle of the Lord shining upon his head (29:3). The church, in a rapture, cries out, "Sing, 0 heavens; and be joyful, 0 earth; break forth into singing, 0 mountains: for the Lord hath comforted His people" (Isa 49:13). Paul calls this, "The fullness of the blessing of the Gospel of Christ" (Ro 15:29). 0 rest not short of enjoying the full blaze of Gospel peace and spiritual joy-(Mason). During the last days of that eminent man of God, Dr. Payson, he once said, "When I formerly read Bunyan's description of the Land of Beulah, where the sun shines and the birds sing day and night, I used to doubt whether there was such a place; but now my own experience has convinced me of it, and it infinitely transcends all my previous conceptions." The best possible commentary on the glowing descriptions in Bunyan is to be found in that very remarkable letter dictated by Dr. Payson to his sister, a few weeks before his death-"Were I to adopt the figurative language of Bunyan, I might date this letter from the Land Beulah, of which I have been for some weeks a happy inhabitant. The Celestial City is full in my view. Its glories have been upon me, its breezes fan me, its odours are wafted to me, its sounds strike upon my ears, and its spirit is breathed into my heart. Nothing separates me from it but the River of Death, which now appears but as an insignificant rill, that may be crossed at a single step, whenever God shall give permission. The Sun of Righteousness has been gradually drawing nearer and nearer, appearing larger and brighter as He approached, and now He fills the whole hemisphere, pouring forth a flood of glory, in which I seem to float, like an insect in the beams of the sun; exulting, yet almost trembling, while I gaze on this excessive brightness, and wondering, with unutterable wonder, why God should deign thus to shine upon a sinful worm"-(Cheever).

[307] In the immediate view of heavenly felicity, Paul "desired to depart hence, and be with Christ, as far better" than life. David "fainted for God's salvation." In the lively exercise of holy affections, the believer grows weary of this sinful world, longs to have his faith changed for sight, his hope swallowed up in enjoyment, and his love perfected- (Scott).

[308] No other language than that of Bunyan himself, perused in the pages of his own sweet book, could be successful in portraying this beauty and glory; for now he seems to feel that all the dangers of the pilgrimage are almost over, and he gives up himself without restraint so entirely to the sea of bliss that surrounds him, and to the gales of Heaven that are wafting him on, and to the sounds of melody that float in the whole air around him, that nothing in the English language can be compared with this whole closing part of the "Pilgrim's Progress," for its entrancing splendour, yet serene and simple loveliness. The colouring is that of Heaven in the soul; and Bunyan has poured his own Heaven-entranced soul into it. With all its depth and power, there is nothing exaggerated, and it is made up of the simplest and most scriptural materials and images. We seem to stand in a flood of light, poured on as from the open gates of paradise. It falls on every leaf and shrub by the way-side; it is reflected from the crystal streams that, between grassy banks, wind amidst groves of fruit-trees into vineyards and flower-gardens. These fields of Beulah are just below the gate of Heaven; and with the light of Heaven there come floating down the melodies of Heaven, so that here there is almost an open revelation of the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him- (Cheever).

[309]     This is the place, this is the state, Of all that fear the Lord; Which men nor angels may relate With tongue, or pen, or word. No night is here for to eclipse Its spangling rays so bright; Nor doubt, nor fear, to shut the lips Of those within this light.

The strings of music here are timed For heavenly harmony, And every spirit here perfumed With perfect sanctity. Here run the crystal streams of life, Quite thorow all our veins; And here by love we do unite With glory's golden chains. - (Bunyan's One Thing Needful).

[310]     Mr. Flavel, being on a journey, set himself to improve the time by meditation; when his mind grew intent, till at length he had such ravishing tastes of heavenly joys, and such full assurance of his interest therein, that he utterly lost the sight and sense of this world and all its concerns, so that for hours he knew not where he was. At last, perceiving himself faint, he alighted from his horse and sat down at a spring, where he refreshed himself, earnestly desiring, if it were the will of God, that he might there leave the world. His spirit reviving, he finished his journey in the same delightful frame; and all that night passed without a wink of sleep, the joy of the Lord still overflowing him, so that he seemed an inhabitant of the other world-(Pneumatologia, 4to, 2d edit. p. 210).

[311]     Who are these ministering spirits, that the author calls "men"? Are they the glorified inhabitants of the Celestial City? Moses and Elias appeared at the transfiguration; so the spirit who spake with John (Re 20:10), was his fellow-servant. Are these "spirits of just men made perfect"-the angel-ministering spirits which are sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation? (Heb 1:14; 12:22-23)-(ED).

[312]     What are these two difficulties? Are they not death without, and unbelief within? It is through the latter that the former is all-distressing to us. 0 for a strong, world-conquering, sin-subduing, death-overcoming faith, in life and death! Jesus, Master, speak the word, unbelief shall flee, our faith shall not fail, and our hope shall be steady-(Mason).

[313]     Well, now the pilgrims must meet with, and encounter, their last enemy, death. When he stares them in the face, their fears arise. Through the river they must go. What have they to look at? What they are in themselves, or what they have done and been? No. Only the same Jesus who conquered death for us, and can overcome the fear of death in us-(Mason).

[314]     But tim'rous mortals start and shrink To cross this narrow sea; They linger, shivering on the brink, And fear to launch away-(Watts). Evodias could not join in the petition of the Liturgy-"From sudden death, good Lord, deliver us." He had his wish; and expired suddenly on a Lord's-day morning, while thousands were assembling to hear him preach-(Andronicus).

[315]     Bunyan died in perfect peace, though it is probable that he expected darkness in the trying hour. Thus he says, in his treatise on Paul's Departure, "Aye, this will make thee cry, though thou be as good as David. Wherefore learn by his sorrows to serve thy generation, by the will of God, before falling asleep. God can pardon thy sins, and yet make them a bitter thing and a burden at death. It is easy to HIM to pardon, and yet break all thy bones; or show Himself in such dreadful majesty, that Heaven and earth shall tremble at His presence. Let the thoughts of this prevail with thee to manage thy time and work in wisdom, while thou art well" (Vol. 1, p. 730)-(ED).

[316]     Satan is suffered to be very busy with God's people in their last moments, but he too, like death, is a conquered enemy by our Jesus; therefore, amidst all his attacks, they are safe. He cannot destroy them whom Jesus hath redeemed, for He is faithful to them, and almighty to save-(Mason).

[317]          Hopeful, agreeably to his name, was not only preserved from terror, but enabled to encourage his trembling companion telling him the welcome news that "he felt the bottom, and it was good." Blessed experience! If Christ is our foundation, we have nothing to fear, even in the swellings of Jordan, for death itself cannot separate us from the love of Christ-((Burder).

[318]     When you visit a sick or death bed, be sure that you take God's Word with you, in your heart and in your mouth. It is from that only that you may expect a blessing upon, and to the soul of, the sick or the dying; for it is by the Word of God faith came at the first; it is by that, faith is strengthened at the last; and Jesus is the sum and substance of the Scriptures-(Mason).

[319]     Jesus Christ, He is indeed the Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, the beginning of our hope, and the end of our confidence. We begin and end the Christian pilgrimage with Him; and all our temptations and trials speak loudly, and fully confirm to us that truth of our Lord, "Without Me ye can do nothing" (Joh 15:5)-(Mason).

[320]     The temporary distresses of dying believers often arise from bodily disease, which interrupt the free exercise of their intellectual powers. Of this Satan will be sure to take advantage, as far as he is permitted, and will suggest gloomy imaginations, not only to distress them, but to dishearten others by their example. Generally they who, for a time, have been most distressed, have at length died most triumphantly-(Scott).

[321]     I cannot trust myself to read the account of Christian going up to the Celestial Gate, after his passage though the River of Death-(Arnold).

[322]              Bunyan, in his Saint's Knowledge of Christ's Love, describes the feelings of the pilgrim, while clothed with mortality, looking up to the heights of Heaven. Christ could mount up-Elijah had a chariot of fire-Enoch was taken by God. But I, poor I, how shall I get thither? How often are considering thoughts wanting in professors! The question is happily solved in Christian and Hopeful's experience; they left all their mortal garments and burdens behind them in the river, and their free spirits for the first time felt the sweets of liberty in their perfection-(ED).

[323]       I know that all who go to paradise, are conducted thither by these holy ones; but yet, for all that, such as die under the cloud, for unchristian walking with God, may meet with darkness on that day, and go heavily hence. But as for those who have been faithful to their God, they shall see before them, or from earth see glory-(Bunyan's Paul's Departure, vol. 1, p. 741).

[324]          Ah, Christian! None can conceive or describe what it is to live in a state separate from a body of sin and death. Surely in some happy, highly-favoured moments, we have had a glimpse, a foretaste of this, and could realize it by faith. 0 for more and more of this, till we possess and enjoy it in all its fullness! If Jesus be so sweet to faith below, who can tell what He is in full fruition above? This we must die to know-(Mason).

[325]     Bunyan has, with great beauty and probability, brought in the ministry of angels, and regions of the air, to be passed through in their company, rising, and still rising, higher and higher, before they come to that mighty mount on which He has placed the gates of the Celestial City. The angels receive His pilgrims as they come up from the River of Death, and form for them a bright, glittering, seraphic, loving convoy, whose conversation prepares them gradually for that exceeding and eternal weight of glory which is to be theirs as they enter in at the gate. Bunyan has thus, in this blissful passage from the river to the gate, done what no other devout writer, or dreamer, or speculator, that we are aware of, has ever done; he has filled what perhaps in most minds is a mere blank, a vacancy, or at most a bewilderment and mist of glory, with definite and beatific images, with natural thoughts, and with the sympathizing communion of gentle spirits, who form, as it were, an outer porch and perspective of glory, through which the soul passes into uncreated light. Bunyan has thrown a bridge, as it were, for the imagination, over the deep, sudden, open space of an untried spiritual existence; where it finds, ready to receive the soul that leaves the body, ministering spirits, sent forth to minister unto them who are to be heirs of salvation-(Cheever).

[326]       Glory beyond all glory ever seen By waking sense, or by the dreaming soul! The appearance, instantaneously disclosed, Was of a mighty City-boldly say A wilderness of building, sinking far, And self-withdrawn into a wondrous depth, Far sinking into splendour without end! Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold, With alabaster domes and silver spires, And blazing terrace upon terrace, high Uplifted: here, serene pavilions bright, In avenues disposed; there, towers begirt With battlements, that on their restless fronts Bore stars-illumination of all gems! -(Wordsworth).

[327]A certificate, To show thou seest thyself most desolate; Writ by the Master, with repentance seal'd. To show also that here [by Christ] thou would'st be healed. And that thou dost abhor thee for thy ways, And would'st in holiness spend all thy days. -(Bunyan's House of God, vol. 2, p. 580).

[328]     Blessed indeed is that man who, while encumbered with a sinful body, can truly say, "I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me." In Him all the commandments are obeyed-all my sins washed away by His blood-and my soul clothed with righteousness and immortality. Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord: they enter the Celestial City. This is the righteous nation, which keepeth the truth. 0 my reader, would you be one of the glorified inhabitants of that city whose builder and maker is God? Then must you live the life of faith; so run that ye may obtain; ever be found looking unto Jesus-(ED). Prepare me, Lord, for Thy right hand, Then come the joyful day; Come death, and some celestial hand, And fetch my soul away."

[329]     0 what acclamations of joy will there be, when all the children of God meet together, without the fear of being disturbed by Antichrist! How will the heavens echo of joy, when the Bride, the Lamb's wife, shall come to dwell with her Husband! If you would be better satisfied what the beatific vision means, my request is, that you would live holily, and thus go and see. Christ is the desire of all nations, the joy of angels, the delight of the Father. What solace, then, must that soul be filled with, which hath the possession of Christ to all eternity?-(Bunyan's Dying Sayings, vol.1, pp. 64, 65).

[330]     When a formal visit from a minister, a few general questions, and a prayer, with or without the sacrament, calm the mind of a dying person, whose life has been unsuitable to the Christian profession; no doubt, could we penetrate the veil, we should see him wafted across the river in the boat of Vain-hope, and meeting with the awful doom that is here described. From such fatal delusions, good Lord, deliver us!-(Scott).

[331]     Vain-hope ever dwells in the bosom of fools, and is ever ready to assist Ignorance. He wanted him at the last, and he found him. He had been his companion through life, and will not forsake him in the hour of death. You see Ignorance had no pangs in his death, no fears, doubts, and sorrows, no terror from the enemy, but all was serene and happy. Vain-hope was his ferryman; and he, as the good folks say, died like a lamb. Ah, but did such lambs see what was to follow, when Vain-hope had wafted them over the river, they would roar like lions!-(Mason).

[332]            This is a most awful conclusion. Consider it deeply. Weigh it attentively, so as to get good satisfaction from the Word to these important questions-Am I in Christ, the way, the only way, to the kingdom, or not? Do I see that all other ways, whether of sin or self-righteousness, lead to hell? Does Christ dwell in my heart by faith? Am I a new creature in Him? Do I renounce my own righteousness, as well as abhor my sins? Do I look alone to Christ for righteousness, and depend only on Him for holiness? Is He the only hope of my soul, and the only confidence of my heart? And do I desire to be found in Him; knowing by the Word, and feeling by the teaching of His Spirit, that I am totally lost in myself? Thus, is Christ formed in me, the only hope of glory? Do I study to please Him, as well as hope to enjoy Him? Is fellowship with God the Father, and His Son, Jesus Christ, so prized by me, as to seek it, and to esteem it above all things? If so, though I may find all things in nature, in the world, and from Satan, continually opposing this, yet I am in Christ the way, and He is in me the truth and the life-(Mason). How far may such an one go? This important question is very solemnly argued in Bunyan's Law and Grace. He may be received into church-fellowship-and, like the foolish virgins, be clear from outward pollution-have gone forth from the rudiments and traditions of men-and had their lamps, but still lost their precious souls. They may bear office in the church, as Judas carried the bag, and as Demas! They may become preachers and ministers of the Gospel, with rare gifts, and a fluent tongue, like an angel, to speak of the hidden mysteries; but may die under the curse. They may have the gifts of the Spirit and prophecy, and be but a Balaam. They may stand thus until Christ come and reveal them. They may, with confidence, say, Lord, Lord, have we not eaten and drank in Thy presence, and taught in Thy name, and in Thy name have cast out devils? and yet, poor creatures, be shut out!-(ED).

015 The Pilgrim's Progress - Part 2






"I have used similitudes." -Ho 12:10.

London: Printed for Nathaniel Ponder, at the Peacock in the Poultry, near the Church, 1684.


Go now, my little book, to every place, Where my first Pilgrim has but shown his face, Call at their door. If any say, Who's there? Then answer thou, CHRISTIANA is here. If they bid thee come in, then enter thou, With all thy boys; and then, as thou knowest how, Tell who they are, also from whence they came; Perhaps they know them by their looks, or name. But if they should not, ask them yet again If formerly they did not entertain One CHRISTIAN, a Pilgrim? If they say They did; and were delighted in his way: Then let them know, that those related were Unto him; yea, his wife and children are.

Tell them, that they have left their house and home, Are turned Pilgrims, seek a world to come; That they have met with hardships in the way, That they do meet with troubles night and day; That they have trod on serpents, fought with devils, Have also overcome a many evils. Yea, tell them also of the next, who have Of love to pilgrimage, been stout and brave Defenders of that way, and how they still Refuse this world, to do their Father's will.

Go, tell them also of those dainty things, That pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings. Let them acquainted be, too, how they are Beloved of their King, under His care: What goodly mansions for them He provides, Tho' they meet with rough winds, and swelling tides, How brave a calm they will enjoy at last, Who to their Lord, and by His ways hold fast.

Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace Thee, as they did my firstling, and will grace Thee, and thy fellows, with such cheer and fare, As show will they of Pilgrims lovers are.

OBJECTION 1.But how, if they will not believe of me That I am truly thine; cause some there be That counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name, Seek, by disguise, to seem the very same; And by that means have wrought themselves into The hands and houses of I know not who?

ANSWER. 'Tis true, some have of late, to counterfeit My Pilgrim, to their own my title set;[1] Yea others, half my name and title too Have stitched to their book, to make them do; But yet they, by their features, do declare Themselves not mine to be, whose e'er they are.

If such thou meet'st with, then thine only way Before them all, is, to say out thy say, In thine own native language, which no man Now useth, nor with ease dissemble can. If, after all, they still of you shall doubt, Thinking that you, like gipsies, go about

In naughty wise, the country to defile, Or that you seek good people to beguile With things unwarrantable; send for me, And I will testify you PILGRIMS be. Yea, I will testify that only you My Pilgrims are; and that alone will do.

OBJECTION 2 But yet, perhaps, I may inquire for him,Of those that wish him damned, life and limb. What shall I do, when I at such a door For Pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more?[2]

ANSWER. Fright not thyself, my book, for such bugbears Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears. My Pilgrim's book has travell'd sea and land, Yet could I never come to understand That it was slighted, or turn'd out of door By any kingdom, were they rich or poor. 

In France and Flanders, where men kill each other, My Pilgrim is esteem'd a friend, a brother. In Holland too, 'tis said, as I am told, My Pilgrim is with some worth more than gold.

Highlanders and wild Irish can agree My Pilgrim should familiar with them be.'Tis in New England under such advance, Receives there so much loving countenance, As to be trimm'd, new cloth'd, and deck'd with gems That it may show its features and its limbs, Yet more; so comely doth my Pilgrim walk, That of him thousands daily sing and talk.[3]

If you draw nearer home, it will appear, My Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear; City and country will him entertain With, Welcome Pilgrim; yea, they can't refrain From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by, Or shows his head in any company.

Brave gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love, Esteem it much, yea, value it above Things of a greater bulk: yea, with delight, Say, My lark's leg is better than a kite.

Young ladies, and young gentlewomen too, Do no small kindness to my Pilgrim show. Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts, My Pilgrim has, 'cause he to them imparts His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains, As yields them profit double to their pains Of reading; yea, I think, I may be bold To say, some prize him far above their gold.

The very children that do walk the street, If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet, Salute him well, will wish him well, and say, He is the only stripling of the day.

They that have never seen him, yet admire What they have heard of him, and much desire To have his company, and hear him tell Those pilgrim stories which he knows so well.

Yea, some who did not love him at the first, But called him fool and noddy, say they must, Now they have seen and heard him, him commend And to those whom they love, they do him send.[4]

Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need'st not be Afraid to show thy head; none can hurt thee, That wish but well to him that went before, 'Cause thou com'st after with a second store Of things as good, as rich, as profitable, For young, for old, for stagg'ring, and for stable.

OBJECTION 3.But some there he that say, He laughs too loud And some do say, His head is in a cloud. Some say, His words and stories are so dark, They know not how, by them, to find his mark.

ANSWER. One may, I think, say, Both his laughs and cries, May well be guess'd at by his wat'ry eyes. Some things are of that nature, as to make One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache. When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep, He did at the same time both kiss and weep.

Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head, That doth but show how wisdom's covered With its own mantles, and to stir the mind To a search after what it fain would find. Things that seem to he hid in words obscure, Do but the godly mind the more allure To study what those sayings should contain, That speak to us in such a cloudy strain.

I also know a dark similitude Will on the fancy more itself intrude, And will stick faster in the heart and head, Than things from similes not borrowed. Wherefore, my book, let no discouragement Hinder thy travels. Behold, thou art sent To friends, not foes; to friends that will give place To thee, thy Pilgrims, and thy words embrace.

Besides, what my first Pilgrim left conceal'd Thou, my brave second Pilgrim, hast reveal'd; What CHRISTIAN left lock'd up, and went his way, Sweet CHRISTIANA opens with her key.[5]

OBJECTION 4.But some love not the method of your first; Romance they count it, throw't away as dust, If I should meet with such, what should I say? Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay?

ANSWER. My CHRISTIANA, if with such thou meet, By all means, in all loving-wise, them greet; Render them not reviling for revile; But if they frown, I prithee on them smile; Perhaps 'tis nature, or some ill report, Has made them thus despise, or thus retort.

Some love no cheese, some love no fish, and some Love not their friends, nor their own house or home; Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl, More than they love a cuckoo, or an owl; Leave such, my CHRISTIANA, to their choice, And seek those who to find thee will rejoice; By no means strive, but in humble-wise, Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise.

Go, then, my little book, and show to all That entertain, and bid thee welcome shall, What thou shalt keep close, shut up from the rest, And wish what thou shalt show them may be blest To them for good, may make them choose to be Pilgrims better by far than thee or me.

Go, then, I say, tell all men who thou art; Say, I am CHRISTIANA, and my part Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what It is for men to take a Pilgrims lot.

Go also, tell them who and what they be, That now do go on pilgrimage with thee; Say, Here's my neighbour, Mercy, she is one That has long time with me a Pilgrim gone. Come, see her in her virgin race, and learn 'Twixt idle ones and Pilgrims to discern. Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize The world which is to come, in any wise. When little tripping maidens follow God, And leave old doting sinners to His rod; 'Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried, Hosanna! to whom old ones did deride.

Next, tell them of old Honest, who you found With his white hairs, treading the Pilgrim's ground. Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was, How after his good Lord he bare his cross. Perhaps with some gray head this may prevail With Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail.

Tell them also, how Master Fearing went On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent In solitariness, with fears and cries; And how, at last, he won the joyful prize. He was a good man, though much down in spirit, He is a good man, and doth life inherit.

Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also, Who, not before, but still behind would go. Show them also, how he had like been slain, And how one Great-heart did his life regain. This man was true of heart, though weak in grace, One might true godliness read in his face.

Then tell them of Master Ready-to-halt, A man with crutches, but much without fault; Tell them how Master Feeble-mind and he Did love, and in opinions much agree. And let all know, though weakness was their chance, Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance.

Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-truth, That man of courage, though a very youth. Tell everyone his spirit was so stout, No man could ever make him face about; And how Great-heart and he could not forbear, But put down Doubting Castle, slay Despair.

Overlook not Master Despondency, Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, though they lie Under such mantles, as may make them look (With some) as if their God had them forsook. They softly went, but sure, and at the end, Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their friend. When thou hast told the world of all these things, Then turn about, my book, and touch these strings, Which, if but touch'd, will such music make, They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake.

These riddles that lie couch'd within thy breast, Freely propound, expound; and for the rest Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain.

Now may this little book a blessing be To those who love this little book and me; And may its buyer have no cause to say, His money is but lost or thrown away; Yea, may this Second Pilgrim yield that fruit, As may with each good Pilgrim's fancy suit; And may it persuade some that go astray, To turn their feet and heart to the right way, Is the hearty prayer of The Author, JOHN BUNYAN.





SOME time since, to tell you my dream that I had of Christian the Pilgrim, and of his dangerous journey towards the Celestial Country, was pleasant to me, and profitable to you. I told you then, also, what I saw concerning his wife and children, and how unwilling they were to go with him on pilgrimage, insomuch that he was forced to go on his progress without them; for he durst not run the danger of that destruction which he feared would come by staying with them in the City of Destruction. Wherefore, as I then showed you, he left them and departed.[6]

Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of business, that I have been much hindered and kept back from my wonted travels into those parts whence he went, and so could not, till now, obtain an opportunity to make further inquiry after whom he left behind, that I might give you an account of them.[7] But having had some concerns that way of late, I went down again thitherward. Now, having taken up my lodgings in a wood, about a mile off the place, as I slept, I dreamed again.[8]

And as I was in my dream, behold, an aged gentleman came by where I lay; and because he was to go some part of the way that I was travelling, me thought I got up and went with him. So as we walked, and as travelers usually do, I was as if we fell into discourse, and our talk happened to be about Christian and his travels; for thus I began with the old man:

Sir, said I, what town is that there below, that lieth on the left hand of our way?

Then said Mr. Sagacity (for that was his name), It is the City of Destruction, a populous place, but possessed with a very ill-conditioned and idle sort of people.

I thought that was that city, quoth I; I went once myself through that town, and, therefore, know that this report you give of it is true.

SAG. Too true; I wish I could speak truth in speaking better of them that dwell therein.

Well, Sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a well-meaning man; and so one that takes pleasure to hear and tell of that which is good. Pray, did you never hear what happened to a man some time ago in this town, whose name was Christian, that went on pilgrimage up towards the higher regions?

SAG. Hear of him! Aye, and I also heard of the molestations, troubles, wars, captivities, cries, groans, frights, and fears that he met with and had in his journey; besides, I must tell you, all our country rings of him. There are but few houses that have heard of him and his doings but have sought after and got the records of his pilgrimage; yea, I think I may say that that his hazardous journey, has got a many well-wishers to his ways; for though, when he was here, he was fool in every man's mouth, yet, now he is gone, he is highly commended of all. For, it is said, he lives bravely where he is; yea, many of them that are resolved never to run his hazards, yet have their mouths water at his gains.[9]

They may, quoth I, well think, if they think anything that is true, that he liveth well where he is; for he now lives at and in the Fountain of Life, and has what he has without labour and sorrow, for there is no grief mixed therewith. [But, pray, what talk have the people about him?][10]

SAG. Talk! the people talk strangely about him; some say that he now walks in white (Re 3:4; 6:11); that he has a chain of gold about his neck; that he has a crown of gold, beset with pearls, upon his head. Others say that the Shining Ones, that sometimes showed themselves to him in his journey, are become his companions, and that he is as familiar with them in the place where he is as here one neighbour is with another. Besides, it is confidently affirmed concerning him, that the King of the place where he is has bestowed upon him already a very rich and pleasant dwelling at court (Zec 3:7); and that he every day eateth (Lu 14:15), and drinketh, and walketh, and talketh with Him; and receiveth of the smiles and favours of Him that is Judge of all there. Moreover, it is expected of some, that his Prince, the Lord of that country, will shortly come into these parts, and will know the reason, if they can give any, why his neighbours set so little by him, and had him so much in derision, when they perceived that he would be a pilgrim (Jude 14-15). For, they say, that now he is so in the affections of his Prince, and that his Sovereign is so much concerned with the indignities that were cast upon Christian, when he became a pilgrim, that He will look upon all as if done unto Himself;[11] and no marvel, for it was for the love that he had to his Prince that he ventured as he did[12] (Lu 10:16).

I dare say, quoth I, I am glad on it; I am glad for the poor man's sake, for that he now has rest from his labour (Re 14:13); and for that he now reapeth the benefit of his tears with joy (Ps 126:5-6); and for that he has got beyond the gunshot of his enemies, and is out of the reach of them that hate him. I also am glad, for that a rumour of these things is noised abroad in this country; who can tell but that it may work some good effect on some that are left behind? But, pray Sir, while it is fresh in my mind, do you hear anything of his wife and children? Poor hearts! I wonder in my mind what they do.[13]

SAG. Who! Christiana and her sons? They are like to do as well as did Christian himself; for though they all played the fool at the first, and would by no means be persuaded by either the tears or entreaties of Christian, yet second thoughts have wrought wonderfully with them; so they have packed up, and are also gone after him.[14]

Better and better, quoth I. But what! wife and children, and all?

SAG. It is true; I can give you an account of the matter, for I was upon the spot at the instant, and was thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair.

Then, said I, a man, it seems, may report it for a truth?

SAG. You need not fear to affirm it; I mean that they are all gone on pilgrimage, both the good woman and her four boys. And being (we are, as I perceive) going some considerable way together, I will give you an account of the whole of the matter.

This Christiana (for that was her name from the day that she, with her children, betook themselves to a pilgrim's life), after her husband was gone over the river, and she could hear of him no more, her thoughts began to work in her mind. First, for that she had lost her husband, and for that the loving bond of that relation was utterly broken betwixt them. For you know, said he to me, nature can do no less but entertain the living with many a heavy cogitation in the remembrance of the loss of loving relations. This, therefore, of her husband did cost her many a tear. But this was not all; for Christiana did also begin to consider with herself, whether her unbecoming behaviour towards her husband was not one cause that she saw him no more; and that in such sort he was taken away from her. And upon this, came into her mind, by swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carriages to her dear friend; which also clogged her conscience, and did load her with guilt. She was, moreover, much broken with calling to remembrance the restless groans, brinish tears, and self-bemoanings of her husband, and how she did harden her heart against all his entreaties, and loving persuasions, of her and her sons, to go with him; yea, there was not anything that Christian either said to her or did before her all the while that his burden did hang on his back, but it returned upon her like a flash of lightning, and rent the caul of her heart in sunder. Specially that bitter outcry of his, "What shall I do to he saved?" did ring in her ears most dolefully.[15]

Then said she to her children, Sons, we are all undone. I have sinned away your father, and he is gone; he would have had us with him, but I would not go myself. I also have hindered you of life.[16] With that the boys fell all into tears, and cried out to go after their father. 0! said Christiana, that it had been but our lot to go with him, then had it fared well with us, beyond what it is like to do now; for though I formerly foolishly imagined, concerning the troubles of your father, that they proceeded of a foolish fancy that he had, or for that he was overrun with melancholy humours; yet now it will not out of my mind but that they sprang from another cause, to wit, for that the Light of light was given him (Jas 1:23-25); by the help of which, as I perceive, he has escaped the snares of death.[17] Then they all wept again, and cried out, 0 woe worth the day![18]

The next night Christiana had a dream; and, behold, she saw as if a broad parchment was opened before her, in which were recorded the sum of her ways (Lu 18:13); and the times, as she thought, looked very black upon her. Then she cried out aloud in her sleep, "Lord, have mercy upon me a sinner!"[19] and the little children heard her.

After this, she thought she saw two very ill-favoured ones standing by her bedside, and saying, What shall we do with this woman? for she cries out for mercy waking and sleeping; if she be suffered to go on as she begins, we shall lose her as we have lost her husband. Wherefore we must, by one way or other, seek to take her off from the thoughts of what shall be hereafter, else all the world cannot help it but she will become a pilgrim.

Now she awoke in a great sweat, also a trembling was upon her; but after a while she fell to sleeping again. And then she thought she saw Christian her husband in a place of bliss, among many immortals, with a harp in his hand, standing and playing upon it before One that sat on a throne, with a rainbow about His head. She saw also as if he bowed his head, with his face to the paved work that was under the Prince's feet, saying, I heartily thank my Lord and King, for bringing of me into this place. Then shouted a company of them that stood round about, and harped with their harps; but no man living could tell what they said, but Christian and his companions.[20]

Next morning, when she was up, had prayed to God, and talked with her children a while, one knocked hard at the door, to whom she spake out, saying, If thou comest in God's name, come in. So he said, Amen, and opened the door, and saluted her with "Peace be to this house." The which, when he had done, he said, Christiana, knowest thou wherefore I am come? Then she blushed and trembled, also her heart began to wax warm with desires to know whence he came, and what was his errand to her. So he said unto her, My name is Secret;[21] I dwell with those that are high. It is talked of, where I dwell, as if thou hadst a desire to go thither; also, there is a report, that thou art aware of the evil thou hast formerly done to thy husband, in hardening of thy heart against his way, and in keeping of these thy babes in their ignorance. Christiana, the Merciful One has sent me to tell thee, that He is a God ready to forgive, and that He taketh delight to multiply to pardon offences. He also would have thee know, that He inviteth thee to come into His presence, to His table, and that He will feed thee with the fat of His house, and with the heritage of Jacob thy father.

There is Christian thy husband (that was), with legions more, his companions, ever beholding that face that doth minister life to beholders; and they will all be glad when they shall hear the sound of thy feet step over thy Father's threshold.

Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and bowing her head to the ground, this Visitor proceeded, and said, Christiana, here is also a letter for thee, which I have brought from thy husband's King. So she took it and opened it, but it smelt after the manner of the best perfume (Song 1:3); also it was written in letters of gold. The contents of the letter was, That the King would have her do as did Christian her husband; for that was the way to come to His city, and to dwell in His presence with joy forever. At this the good woman was quite overcome; so she cried out to her visitor, Sir, will you carry me and my children with you, that we also may go and worship this King?

Then said the visitor, Christiana, the bitter is before the sweet. Thou must through troubles, as did he that went before thee, enter this Celestial City. Wherefore I advise thee to do as did Christian thy husband. Go to the wicket-gate yonder, over the plain, for that stands in the head of the way up which thou must go, and I wish thee all good speed. Also I advise that thou put this letter in thy bosom; that thou read therein to thyself, and to thy children, until you have got it by rote of heart,[22] for it is one of the songs that thou must sing while thou art in this house of thy pilgrimage (Ps 119:54); also this thou must deliver in at the further gate . [23]

Now I saw in my dream, that this old gentleman, as he told me this story, did himself seem to be greatly affected therewith. He, moreover, proceeded and said, So Christiana called her sons together, and began thus to address herself unto them: My sons, I have, as you may perceive, been of late under much exercise in my soul, about the death of your father; not for that I doubt at all of his happiness, for I am satisfied now that he is well. I have been also much affected with the thoughts of mine own state and yours, which I verily believe is by nature miserable. My carriages, also, to your father in his distress, is a great load to my conscience; for I hardened both my own heart and yours against him, and refused to go with him on pilgrimage.[24]

The thoughts of these things would now kill me outright, but that for a dream which I had last night, and but for the encouragement that this stranger has given me this morning. Come, my children, let us pack up and begone to the gate that leads to the Celestial Country, that we may see your father, and be with him and his companions in peace, according to the laws of that land.

Then did her children burst out into tears for joy, that the heart of their mother was so inclined.[25] So their visitor bade them farewell; and they began to prepare to set out for their journey.

But while they were thus about to be gone, two of the women, that were Christiana's neighbours, came up to her house, and knocked at her door.

To whom she said as before, If you come in God's name, come in. At this the women were stunned; for this kind of language they used not to hear, or to perceive to drop from the lips of Christiana.[26] Yet they came in; but, behold, they found the good woman a-preparing to be gone from her house.

So they began and said, Neighbour, pray what is your meaning by this?

Christiana answered and said to the eldest of them, whose name was Mrs. Timorous, I am preparing for a journey. (This Timorous was daughter to him that met Christian upon the Hill Difficulty, and would have had him go back for fear of the lions).

Tim. For what journey, I pray you?

CHRIST. Even to go after my good husband. And with that she fell a-weeping.

Tim. I hope not so, good neighbour; pray, for your poor children's sakes, do not so unwomanly cast away yourself.

CHRIST. Nay, my children shall go with me, not one of them is willing to stay behind.[27]

Tim. I wonder, in my very heart, what, or who has brought you into this mind.

CHRIST. Oh! neighbour, knew you but as much as I do, I doubt not but that you would go with me.

Tim. Prithee, what new knowledge hast thou got, that so worketh off thy mind from thy friends, and that tempteth thee to go, nobody knows where?

CHRIST. Then Christiana replied, I have been sorely afflicted since my husband's departure from me; but especially since he went over the river. But that which troubleth me most, is my churlish carriages to him, when he was under his distress. Besides, I am now as he was then; nothing will serve me but going on pilgrimage. I was a-dreaming last night that I saw him. 0 that my soul was with him! He dwelleth in the presence of the King of the country; he sits and eats with Him at His table; he is become a companion of immortals (1Co 5:1-5), and has a house now given him to dwell in, to which the best palaces on earth, if compared, seem to me to be but as a dunghill. The Prince of the place has also sent for me, with promise of entertainment if I shall come to Him; His messenger was here even now, and has brought me a letter, which invites me to come. And with that she plucked out her letter,[28] and read it, and said to them, What now will ye say to this?

Tim. 0 the madness that has possessed thee and thy husband, to run yourselves upon such difficulties! You have heard, I am sure, what your husband did meet with, even, in a manner, at the first step that he took on his way, as our neighbour Obstinate can yet testify, for he went along with him; yea, and Pliable too, until they, like wise men, were afraid to go any further. We also heard, over and above, how he met with the lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and many other things. Nor is the danger that he met with at Vanity Fair to be forgotten by thee; for if he, though a man, was so hard put to it, what canst thou, being but a poor woman, do? Consider also, that these four sweet babes are thy children, thy flesh and thy bones. Wherefore, though thou shouldest be so rash as to cast away thyself; yet, for the sake of the fruit of thy body, keep thou at home.[29]

But Christiana said unto her, Tempt me not, my neighbour. I have now a price put into my hand to get gain, and I should he a fool of the greatest size, if I should have no heart to strike in with the opportunity.[30] And for that you tell me of all these troubles that I am like to meet with in the way, they are so far off from being to me a discouragement, that they show I am in the right. "The bitter must come before the sweet," and that also will make the sweet the sweeter. Wherefore, since you came not to my house in God's name, as I said, I pray you to be gone, and not to disquiet me farther.[31]

Then Timorous also reviled her, and said to her fellow, Come, neighbour Mercy, let us leave her in her own hands, since she scorns our counsel and company. But Mercy was at a stand, and could not so readily comply with her neighbour, and that for a twofold reason. First, her bowels yearned over Christiana. So she said within herself, If my neighbour will needs be gone, I will go a little way with her and help her. Secondly, her bowels yearned over her own soul, for what Christiana had said had taken some hold upon her mind.[32] Wherefore she said within herself again, I will yet have more talk with this Christiana, and if I find truth and life in what she shall say, myself with my heart shall also go with her. Wherefore Mercy began thus to reply to her neighbour Timorous.

MERCY. Neighbour, I did, indeed, come with you to see Christiana this morning; and since she is, as you see, a-taking of her last farewell of her country, I think to walk, this sunshine morning, a little way with her, to help her on the way. But she told her not of the second reason, but kept that to herself.

TIM. Well, I see you have a mind to go a-fooling too, but take heed in time, and be wise. While we are out of danger, we are out; but when we are in, we are in. So Mrs. Timorous returned to her house, and Christiana betook herself to her journey.[33] But when Timorous was got home to her house, she sends for some of her neighbours, to wit, Mrs. Bat's-eyes, Mrs. Inconsiderate, Mrs. Light-mind, and Mrs. Know-nothing. So when they were come to her house, she falls to telling of the story of Christiana, and of her intended journey. And thus she began her tale.[34]

TIM. Neighbours, having had little to do this morning, I went to give Christiana a visit; and when I came at the door, I knocked, as you know it is our custom. And she answered, If you come in God's name, come in. So in I went, thinking all was well. But when I came in, I found her preparing herself to depart the town, she, and also her children. So I asked her what was her meaning by that. And she told me, in short, that she was now of a mind to go on pilgrimage, as did her husband. She told me also a dream that she had, and how the King of the country where her husband was, had sent her an inviting letter to come thither.

Then said Mrs. Know-nothing, what! do you think she will go?

TIM. Aye, go she will, whatever come on't; and methinks I know it by this; for that which was my great argument to persuade her to stay at home (to wit, the troubles she was like to meet with in the way) is one great argument with her to put her forward on her journey. For she told me in so many words, "The bitter goes before the sweet." Yea, and forasmuch as it so doth, it makes the sweet the sweeter.

MRS. BAT'S-EYES. 0, this blind and foolish woman! said she; will she not take warning by her husband's afflictions? For my part, I see, if he were here again, he would rest him content in a whole skin, and never run so many hazards for nothing.

MRS. INCONSIDERATE also replied, saying, Away with such fantastical fools from the town! A good riddance, for my part, I say, of her. Should she stay where she dwells, and retain this her mind, who could live quietly by her? for she will either be dumpish or unneighbourly, or talk of such matters as no wise body can abide; wherefore, for my part, I shall never be sorry for her departure. Let her go, and let better come in her room. It was never a good world since these whimsical fools dwelt in it.[35]

Then Mrs. Light-mind added as followeth-Come, put this kind of talk away. I was yesterday at Madam Wanton's, where we were as merry as the maids. For who do you think should be there, but I and Mrs. Love-the-flesh, and three or four more, with Mr. Lechery, Mrs. Filth, and some others. So there we had music, and dancing, and what else was meet to fill up the pleasure. And, I dare say, my lady herself is an admirably well-bred gentlewoman, and Mr. Lechery is as pretty a fellow.

By this time, Christiana was got on her way, and Mercy went along with her. So as they went, her children being there also, Christiana began to discourse. And, Mercy, said Christiana, I take this as an unexpected favour, that thou shouldst set foot out of doors with me, to accompany me a little in my way.

MERCY. Then said young Mercy (for she was but young), If I thought it would be to purpose to go with you, I would never go near the town any more.

CHRIST. Well, Mercy, said Christiana, cast in thy lot with me; I well know what will be the end of our pilgrimage. My husband is where he would not but be for all the gold in the Spanish mines. Nor shalt thou be rejected, though thou goest but upon my invitation.[36] The King who hath sent for me and my children is one that delighteth in mercy. Besides, if thou wilt, I will hire thee, and thou shalt go along with me as my servant; yet we will have all things in common betwixt thee and me; only, go along with me.[37]

MERCY. But how shall I be ascertained that I also shall be entertained? Had I this hope but from one that can tell, I would make no stick at all, but would go, being helped by him that can help, though the way was never so tedious.[38]

CHRIST. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee what thou shalt do. Go with me to the wicket-gate, and there I will further inquire for thee; and if there thou shalt not meet with encouragement, I will be content that thou shalt return to thy place. I also will pay thee for thy kindness which thou showest to me and my children, in thy accompanying us in our way, as thou dost.

MERCY. Then will I go thither, and will take what shall follow; and the Lord grant that my lot may there fall, even as the King of Heaven shall have His heart upon me.[39]

Christiana then was glad at her heart, not only that she had a companion, but also that she had prevailed with this poor maid to fall in love with her own salvation. So they went on together, and Mercy began to weep. Then said Christiana, Wherefore weepeth my Sister so?

MERCY. Alas! said she, who can but lament, that shall but rightly consider, what a state and condition my poor relations[40] are in that yet remain in our sinful town? and that which makes my grief the more heavy is, because they have no instructor, nor any to tell them what is to come.

CHRIST. Bowels becometh pilgrims; and thou dost for thy friends as my good Christian did for me when he left me; he mourned for that I would not heed nor regard him; but his Lord and ours did gather up after his tears and put them into His bottle; and now both I and thou, and these my sweet babes, are reaping the fruit and benefit of them. I hope, Mercy, these tears of thine will not be lost; for the truth hath said, that "They that sow in tears shall reap in joy" in singing. And "he that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him" (Ps 126:5-6).

Then said Mercy-

Let the Most Blessed be my guide,
If't be His blessed will;
Unto His gate, into His fold,
Up to His holy hill.

And let Him never suffer me
To swerve or turn aside
From His free grace, and holy ways,
Whate'er shall me betide.

And let Him gather them of mine,
That I have left behind;
Lord, make them pray they may be Thine,
With all their heart and mind.[41]

Now my old friend proceeded, and said: But when Christiana came up to the Slough of Despond, she began to be at a stand; for, said she, this is the place in which my dear husband had like to have been smothered with mud. She perceived, also, that notwithstanding the command of the King to make this place for pilgrims good, yet it was rather worse than formerly. So I asked if that were true. Yes, said the old gentleman, too true; for that many there be that pretend to be the King's labourers, and that say they are for mending the King's highway, that bring dirt and dung instead of stones, and so mar instead of mending.[42] Here Christiana, therefore, with her boys, did make a stand; but, said Mercy, Come, let us venture, only let us be wary. Then they looked well to the steps, and made a shift to get staggeringly over. [43]

Yet, Christiana had like to have been in, and that not once nor twice. Now they had no sooner got over, but they thought they heard words that said unto them, "Blessed is she that believed; for there shall be a performance of those things which were told her from the Lord" (Lu 1:45).

Then they went on again; and said Mercy to Christiana, Had I as good ground to hope for a loving reception at the wicket-gate as you, I think no Slough of Despond would discourage me.

Well, said the other, you know your sore,[44] and I know mine; and, good friend, we shall all have enough evil before we come at our journey's end.

For can it be imagined, that the people that design to attain such excellent glories as we do, and that are so envied that happiness as we are; but that we shall meet with what fears and scares, with what troubles and afflictions they can possibly assault us with, that hate us?

And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out my dream by myself. Wherefore, methought I saw Christiana and Mercy, and the boys, go all of them up to the gate; to which, when they were come, they betook themselves to a short debate about how they must manage their calling at the gate, and what should be said to Him that did open to them. So it was concluded, since Christiana was the eldest, that she should knock for entrance, and that she should speak to Him that did open, for the rest. So Christiana began to knock; and, as her poor husband did, she knocked, and knocked again. But, instead of any that answered, they all thought that they heard as if a dog came barking upon them; a dog, and a great one too, and this made the women and children afraid: nor durst they, for a while, to knock any more, for fear the mastiff should fly upon them. Now, therefore, they were greatly tumbled up and down in their minds, and knew not what to do: knock they durst not, for fear of the dog; go back they durst not, for fear the Keeper of that gate should espy them as they so went, and should be offended with them; at last they thought of knocking again, and knocked more vehemently than they did at the first. Then said the Keeper of the gate, Who is there? So the dog left off to bark, and He opened unto them.[45]

Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said, Let not our Lord be offended with his handmaidens, for that we have knocked at His princely gate. Then said the Keeper, Whence come ye, and what is that you would have?

Christiana answered, We are come from whence Christian did come, and upon the same errand as he; to wit, to be, if it shall please You, graciously admitted by this gate into the way that leads to the Celestial City. And I answer, my Lord, in the next place, that I am Christiana, once the wife of Christian, that now is gotten above.[46]

With that the Keeper of the gate did marvel, saying, What! is she become now a pilgrim that, but a while ago, abhorred that life Then she bowed her head, and said, Yes, and so are these my sweet babes also.

Then He took her by the hand, and let her in, and said also, "Suffer the little children to come unto Me"; and with that He shut up the gate. This done, He called to a trumpeter that was above, over the gate, to entertain Christiana with shouting and sound of trumpet for joy. So he obeyed, and sounded, and filled the air with his melodious notes (Lu 15:7).

Now all this while poor Mercy did stand without, trembling and crying, for fear that she was rejected. But when Christiana had gotten admittance for herself and her boys, then she began to make intercession for Mercy.

CHRIST. And she said, My Lord, I have a companion of mine that stands yet without, that is come hither upon the same account as myself; one that is much dejected in her mind, for that she comes, as she thinks, without sending for; whereas I was sent to by my husband's King to come.

Now Mercy began to be very impatient, for each minute was as long to her as an hour; wherefore she prevented Christiana from a fuller interceding for her, by knocking at the gate herself. And she knocked then so loud, that she made Christiana to start. Then said the Keeper of the gate, Who is there? and said Christiana, It is my friend.

So He opened the gate and looked out, but Mercy was fallen down without, in a swoon, for she fainted, and was afraid that no gate would he opened to her.

Then He took her by the hand, and said, Damsel, I bid thee arise.

0 Sir, said she, I am faint; there is scarce life left in me. But He answered, That one once said, "When my soul fainted within me, I remembered the Lord; and my prayer came in unto Thee, into Thine holy temple" (Jon 2:7). Fear not, but stand upon thy feet, and tell Me wherefore thou art come.[47]

MERCY. I am come for that unto which I was never invited, as my friend Christiana was. Hers was from the King, and mine was but from her. Wherefore I fear I presume.[48]

KEEP. Did she desire thee to come with her to this place?

MERCY. Yes; and, as my Lord sees, I am come. And, if there is any grace or forgiveness of sins to spare, I beseech that I, thy poor handmaid, may be partaker thereof.

Then He took her again by the hand, and led her gently in, and said, I pray for all them that believe on Me, by what means soever they come unto Me. Then said He to those that stood by, Fetch something, and give it Mercy to smell on, thereby to stay her fainting. So they fetched her a bundle of myrrh; and a while after, she was revived.[49]

And now was Christiana and her boys, and Mercy, received of the Lord at the head of the way, and spoke kindly unto by Him. Then said they yet further unto Him, We are sorry for our sins, and beg of our Lord His pardon, and further information what we must do.

I grant pardon, said He, by word and deed: by word, in the promise of forgiveness; by deed, in the way I obtained it. Take the first from My lips with a kiss, (Song 1:2); and the other as it shall be revealed.[50] (Joh 20:20).

Now, I saw in my dream, that He spake many good words unto them, whereby they were greatly gladded. He also had them up to the top of the gate, and showed them by what deed they were saved; and told them withal, That that sight they would have again, as they went along in the way, to their comfort.

So He left them a while in a summer parlour below, where they entered into talk by themselves; and thus Christiana began: 0 Lord! how glad am I that we are got in hither.

MERCY. So you well may; but I of all have cause to leap for joy.

CHRIST. I thought one time, as I stood at the gate (because I had knocked, and none did answer), that all our labour had been lost, especially when that ugly cur made such a heavy barking against us.[51]

MERCY. But my worse fear was after I saw that you was taken into His favour, and that I was left behind. Now, thought I, it is fulfilled which is written, "Two women shall he grinding together, the one shall be taken and the other left"[52] (Mt 24:41). I had much ado to forbear crying out, Undone! undone![53]

And afraid I was to knock any more; but when I looked up to what was written over the gate, I took courage.[54] I also thought that I must either knock again, or die; so I knocked, but I cannot tell how, for my spirit now struggled betwixt life and death.

CHRIST. Can you not tell how you knocked? I am sure your knocks were so earnest that the very sound of them made me start; I thought I never heard such knocking in all my life; I thought you would have come in by violent hands, or have taken the kingdom by storm (Mt 11:12).

MERCY. Alas! to be in my case, who that so was could but have done so? You saw that the door was shut upon me, and that there was a most cruel dog thereabout. Who, I say