city. But, as I said, the reflection of the sun upon the city--for the
city was pure gold--was so extremely glorious, that they could not as
yet with open face behold it, but through an instrument made for that
purpose. So I saw that, as they went on, there met them two men in
raiment that shone like gold; also their faces shone as the light.
These men asked the pilgrims whence they came; and they told them.
They also asked them where they had lodged, what difficulties and
dangers, what comforts and pleasures, they had met with in their way;
and they told them. Then said the men that met them: You have but two
difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in the city.
Christian and his companion then asked the men to go along with them;
so they told them that they would. But, said they, you must obtain it
by your own faith. So I saw in my dream that they went on together
till they came in sight of the gate....
Then I saw in my dream that Christian was in a muse a while. To whom,
also, Hopeful added these words: Be of good cheer; Jesus Christ maketh
thee whole: and with that Christian brake out with a loud voice--Oh! I
see him again; and he tells me: "When thou passest through the waters,
I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow
thee." Then they both took courage, and the enemy was after that as
still as a stone, until they were gone over. Christian, therefore,
presently found ground to stand upon, and so it followed that the rest
of the river was but shallow; but thus they got over. 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 for
to minister to those that shall be heirs of salvation." Thus they went
along toward the gate. 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; they had likewise
left their mortal garments behind them in the river; for tho they went
in with them, they came out without them. They therefore went up here
with much agility and speed, tho the foundation upon which the city
was framed was higher than the clouds.
II
THE DEATH OF VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH AND OF STAND-FAST[98]
It was noised abroad that Mr _Valiant-for-truth_ was taken with a
Summons by the same Post as the other, and had this for a Token that
the Summons was true, That his Pitcher was broken at the Fountain.
When he understood it, he called for his Friends, and told them of it.
Then said he, I am going to my Fathers, and tho with great difficulty
I am got hither, yet now I do not repent me of all the Trouble I have
been at to arrive where I am. My Sword I give to him that shall
succeed me in my Pilgrimage, and my Courage and Skill to him that can
get it. My Marks and Scars I carry with me, to be a witness for me
that I have fought his Battles who now will be my Rewarder. When the
day that he must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the
River-side, into which as he went he said, Death, where is thy Sting?
And as he went down deeper he said, Grave, where is thy Victory? So he
passed over, and all the Trumpets sounded for him on the other side.
Then there came forth a Summons for Mr _Stand-fast_ (This Mr
_Stand-fast_ was he that the rest of the Pilgrims found upon his Knees
in the Inchanted Ground), for the Post brought it him open in his
hands. The contents whereof were, _that he must prepare for a Change
of Life, for his Master was not willing that he should be so far from
him any longer_. At this Mr _Stand-fast_ was put into a muse. Nay,
said the Messenger, you need not doubt of the truth of my Message, for
here is a Token of the Truth thereof, _Thy Wheel is broken at the
Cistern_. Then he called to him Mr _Great-heart_ who was their Guide,
and said unto him, Sir, altho it was not my hap to be much in your
good Company in the days of my Pilgrimage, yet since the time I knew
you, you have been profitable to me. When I came from home, I left
behind me a Wife and five small Children, let me entreat you at your
return (for I know that you will go and return to your Master's house,
in hopes that you yet be a Conductor to more of the holy Pilgrims),
that you send to my Family, and let them be acquainted with all that
hath and shall happen unto me. Tell them moreover of my happy Arrival
to this place, and of the present late blessed condition that I am in.
Tell them also of _Christian_ and _Christiana_ his Wife, and how she
and her Children came after her Husband. Tell them also of what a
happy end she made and whither she is gone. I have little or nothing
to send to my Family, except it be Prayers and Tears for them; of
which it will suffice if thou acquaint them, if peradventure they may
prevail.
When Mr _Stand-fast_ had thus set things in order, and the time being
come for him to haste him away, he also went down to the River. Now
there was a great Calm at that time in the River; wherefore Mr
_Stand-fast_, when he was about half-way in, he stood awhile, and
talked to his Companions that had waited upon him thither. And he
said,
This River has been a Terror to many, yea, the thoughts of it also
have often frighted me. But now methinks I stand easy, my Foot is fixt
upon that upon which the Feet of the Priests that bare the Ark of the
Covenant stood while _Israel_ went over this _Jordan_. The Waters
indeed are to the Palate bitter and to the Stomach cold, yet the
thoughts of what I am going to and of the Conduct that waits for me on
the other side doth lie as a glowing Coal at my Heart.
I see myself now at the end of my Journey, my toilsome days are ended.
I am going now to see that Head that was crowned with Thorns, and that
Face that was spit upon for me.
I have formerly lived by Hear-say and Faith, but now I go where I
shall live by sight, and shall be with Him in whose Company I delight
myself.
I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of, and wherever I have seen the
print of His Shoe in the Earth, there I have coveted to set my Foot
too.
His name has been to me as a Civet-box, yea, sweeter than all
Perfumes. His Voice to me has been most sweet, and his Countenance I
have more desired than they that have most desired the Light of the
Sun. His Word I did use to gather for my Food and for Antidotes
against my Faintings. He has held me, and I have kept me from mine
iniquities, yea, my Steps hath He strengthened in His Way.
Now while he was thus in Discourse, his Countenance changed, his
strong man bowed under him, and after he had said, _Take me, for I
come unto Thee_, he ceased to be seen of them.
But glorious it was to see how the open Region was filled with Horses
and Chariots, with Trumpeters and Pipers, with Singers and Players on
Stringed Instruments, to welcome the Pilgrims as they went up, and
followed one another in at the beautiful Gate of the City.
III
ANCIENT VANITY FAIR[99]
Then I saw in my Dream, that when they were got out of the Wilderness,
they presently saw a Town before them, and the name of that Town is
_Vanity_; and at the Town there is a Fair kept, called _Vanity Fair_:
it is kept all the year long; it beareth the name of _Vanity Fair_,
because the Town where 'tis kept is _lighter than Vanity_; and also
because all that is there sold, or that cometh thither, is _Vanity_.
As is the saying of the wise, _All that cometh is Vanity_.
This Fair is no new erected business, but a thing of ancient standing;
I will shew you the original of it.
Almost five thousand 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 of _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, Honors,
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....
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_.
The Prince of Princes himself, when here, went through this Town to
his own Country, and that upon a _Fair-day_ too; yea, and as I think,
it was _Beelzebub_, the chief Lord of this Fair, that invited him to
buy of his Vanities: yea, would have made him Lord of the Fair, would
he but have done him reverence as he went through the Town. Yea,
because he was such a person of honor, _Beelzebub_ had him from Street
to Street, and shewed him all the Kingdoms of the World in a little
time, that he might (if possible) allure that Blessed One to cheapen
and buy some of his Vanities. But he had no mind to the 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....
The Pilgrims being patient, and not rendering railing for railing, but
contrarywise 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. The other replied, that for
ought 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 chaines up and
down the Fair, for an example and a terror to others, lest any should
further speak in their behalf, or join themselves unto them. 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 (tho but few in
comparison of the rest) several of the men in the Fair. This put the
other party yet into a 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.
Behold Vanity Fair; the Pilgrims there
Are chained and stoned beside;
Even so it was, our Lord past here,
And on Mount Calvary died.
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 also 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. They also
now comforted each other, that whose lot it was to suffer, even he
should have the best on't; therefore each man secretly wished that he
might have that preferment: but committing themselves to the Allwise
dispose 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.
Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought them forth to
their Tryal, 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, tho somewhat varying in form, the contents whereof was
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_.
Now _Faithful_ play the Man, speak for thy God:
Fear not the wickeds' malice, nor their rod:
Speak boldly man, the Truth is on thy side;
Die for it, and to Life in triumph ride.
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 Party that were won to us, were won by beholding our Truth
and Innocence, and they are only turned from the worse to the better.
And as to the King you talk of, since he is _Beelzebub_, the enemy of
our Lord, I defy him and all his Angels.
Then Proclamation was made, that they that had 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
honorable Bench, that he is--
_Judge._ Hold! Give him life Oath.
So they sware him.
Then he said, My Lord, this man, notwithstanding his plausible name,
is one of the vilest men in our Country. He neither regardeth Prince
nor People, Law nor Custom; but doth all that he can to possess all
men with certain of his disloyal notions, 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 still
do worship in vain, are yet in our sins, and finally shall be damned;
and this is that which I have to say.
Then was _Pickthank_ sworn, and bid say what he knew, in behalf of
their Lord the King, against the prisoner at the Bar.
_Pick._ My Lord, and you, Gentlemen all, This 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 honorable 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 suchlike
vilifying terms, with which he hath bespattered most of the Gentry of
our Town.
When this _Pickthank_ had told his tale, the Judge directed his speech
to the Prisoner at the Bar, saying, Thou Runagate, Heretick, and
Traitor, hast thou heard what these honest Gentlemen have witnessed
against thee?
_Faith._ May I speak a few words in my own defense?
_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 see what thou hast to say.
_Faith._ 1. I say then, in answer to what Mr _Envy_ hath spoken, I
never said ought but this, _That what Rule or Laws or Custom or
People, were flat against the Word of God, are diametrically opposite
to Christianity_. If I have said amiss in this, 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 a Divine Revelation, cannot be
done but by an human faith, which faith will not profit 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_....
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 _Lyar_, 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 an
Heretick_. Then said Mr _No-good_, _Away with such a fellow from the
earth_. _Ay_, said Mr _Malice_, _for I hate the very looks of him_.
Then said Mr _Love-lust_, _I could never endure him_. _Nor I_, said Mr
_Live-loose_, _for he would always be 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
_Lyar_. _Hanging is too good for him_, said Mr _Cruelty_. _Let us
dispatch 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_. And so they did; therefore he was presently condemned to be
had from the place where he was, to the place from whence he came, and
there to be put to the most cruel death that could be invented.
They therefore brought him out, to do with him according to their Law;
and first they Scourged him, then they Buffeted him, then they Lanced
his flesh with Knives; after that they Stoned him with stones, then
pricked him with their Swords; and last of all they burned him to
ashes at the Stake. Thus came _Faithful_ to his end.
Brave _Faithful_, bravely done in Word and Deed;
Judge, Witnesses, and Jury have instead
Of overcoming thee, but shewn their Rage:
When thou art dead, thou'lt live from Age to Age.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 97: From "The Pilgrim's Progress."]
[Footnote 98: From "The Pilgrim's Progress."]
[Footnote 99: From "The Pilgrim's Progress."]
JOHN DRYDEN
Born in 1631, died in 1700; educated at Cambridge;
originally a Parliamentarian, but vent over to the
Royalists; made poet-laureate in 1670; converted to
Catholicism in 1686; his life written by Samuel Johnson; his
works collected in 1808 in eighteen volumes by Sir Walter
Scott.
OF ELIZABETHAN DRAMATISTS[100]
To begin, then, with Shakespeare. He was the man who, of all modern,
and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive
soul. All the images of nature were still present to him, and he drew
them not laboriously, but luckily. When he describes anything, you
more than see it--you feel it too. Those who accused him to have
wanted learning, give him the greater commendation. He was naturally
learned; he needed not the spectacles of books to read nature; he
looked inwards, and found her there. I cannot say he is everywhere
alike; were he so, I should do him injury to compare him with the
greatest of mankind. He is many times flat, insipid; his comic wit
degenerating into clenches, his serious swelling into bombast. But he
is always great when some great occasion is presented to him; no man
can say he ever had a fit subject for his wit, and did not then raise
himself as high above the rest of poets.
Quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi.
The consideration of this made Mr. Hales of Eton[101] say, that there
was no subject of which any poet ever writ, but he would produce it
much better done in Shakespeare; and however others are now generally
preferred before him, yet the age wherein he lived, which had
contemporaries with him Fletcher and Jonson, never equalled them to
him in their esteem. And in the last king's court, when Ben's
reputation was at highest, Sir John Suckling, and with him the greater
part of the courtiers, set our Shakespeare far above him....
Beaumont and Fletcher, of whom I am next to speak, had with the
advantage of Shakespeare's wit, which was their precedent, great
natural gifts, improved by study; Beaumont especially, being so
accurate a judge of plays, that Ben Jonson, while he lived, submitted
all his writings to his censure, and 'tis thought, used his judgment
in correcting, if not contriving, all his plots. What value he had for
him, appears by the verses he writ to him, and therefore I need speak
no farther of it. The first play that brought Fletcher and him in
esteem was their "Philaster"; for before that they had written two or
three very unsuccessfully: as the like is reported of Ben Jonson,
before he writ "Every Man in his Humor." Their plots were generally
more regular than Shakespeare's, especially those which were made
before Beaumont's death; and they understood and imitated the
conversation of gentlemen much better; whose wild debaucheries, and
quickness of wit in repartees, no poet before them could paint as
they have done. Humor, which Ben Jonson derived from particular
persons, they made it not their business to describe; they represented
all the passions very lively, but above all, love. I am apt to believe
the English language in them arrived to its highest perfection: what
words have since been taken in, are rather superfluous than
ornamental. Their plays are now the most pleasant and frequent
entertainments of the stage; two of theirs being acted through the
year, for one of Shakespeare's or Jonson's: the reason is, because
there is a certain gaiety in their comedies, and pathos in their more
serious plays, which suits generally with all men's humors.
Shakespeare's language is likewise a little obsolete, and Ben Jonson's
wit comes short of theirs.