merely promised to give up his preaching. At the end of six years he
was liberated, but as he began preaching at once, he was rearrested and
kept for six years longer, when a general change of governmental policy
sent him out into the world at forty-four years of age, free to preach
when and where he wished.
Bunyan's imprisonment was of great value to him, in one respect at
least, for it gave him time to read, reflect and write. That he availed
himself of the privilege, his great works testify. After his release he
continued his labors among his congregation, in writing, and in
visiting other churches. His little blind child, who visited him so
often in the jail, died; but the rest of his family lived and did well,
and Bunyan must be considered a very happy man during the sixteen years
he stayed in his neat little home in Bedford.
In August, 1688, he received word that a bad quarrel had taken place
between a father and son, acquaintances of Bunyan, who lived at
Reading. The old peacemaker went at once to the family and after much
persuasion succeeded in reconciling the two and persuading the father
not to disinherit the son. But this was the last charitable act of the
great preacher, for in returning he was drenched to the skin in a heavy
shower of wind and rain, and after a brief illness died at the home of
one of his friends in London.
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
INTRODUCTION
The Pilgrim's Progress was written while Bunyan was in the Bedford
jail, and as the writer says, was written for his own amusement.
Christian is Bunyan himself, and the trials and experiences of the
former are but the reflections of the temptations and sufferings of the
great preacher set forth in wonderfully dramatic and striking form.
At some time nearly every person reads _The Pilgrim's Progress_, and to
those who do, Christian becomes a very real person. It is a Puritan
book, pure and simple, and as such, contains some things that people of
other denominations may object to, but there is so much of truth,
simplicity and real human nature in it, so much that touches the
spiritual experiences of all human beings, that most people, regardless
of creed, are helped by it.
_The Pilgrim's Progress_ is a very plain allegory. It describes persons
and things as real and material, but always gives to everything a
spiritual significance. There is no room for doubt at any time, for
the names are all so aptly chosen that the meaning may be seen by any
reader. Yet the allegory is so significantly true that while a child
may read and enjoy it as a story and be helped by its patent
truthfulness and poetry, the maturer mind may find latent truths that
compensate for a more careful reading.
"As I walked through the wilderness of this world," the book begins, "I
lighted on a certain place where there was a den [Footnote: The Bedford
jail.] and I laid me down there to sleep, and as I slept, I dreamed a
dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man, a man clothed in rags,
standing with his face from his own home, with a book in his hand, and
a great burden upon his back. I looked and saw him open the book and
read therein; and, as he read, he wept and trembled; and not being able
longer to contain, he broke out with a lamentable cry, saying, 'What
shall I do?'" This man is Christian, the hero of the story.
CHRISTIAN BEGINS HIS JOURNEY
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:
"O my dear wife," said he, "and you, my children, 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 what they believed that
what he had said to them, was true, but because they thought that some
frenzy distemper had got into his head; therefore, it drawing near
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 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.
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?"
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. I looked then, and saw a man named Evangelist coming to him,
who asked, "Wherefore 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, and I find that I
am not willing to do the first, nor able 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. 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, "Flee
from the wrath to come."
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?"
The man said, "No."
"Then," said the other, "Do you see yonder shining light?"
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."
So I saw in my dream that the man began to run. Now, he had not run far
from his own door; but his wife and children, perceiving it, began to
cry after him to return; but the man put his fingers in his ears, and
ran on, crying, "Life! life! eternal life!"
So he looked not behind him, but fled toward the middle of the plain.
The neighbors 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 resolved to fetch him back
by force. The name of one was Obstinate, and the other Pliable.
[Illustration: HE LOOKED NOT BEHIND HIM]
Obstinate argues with Christian, but gives him up in despair and
returns to his home, but Pliable, thinking after all there may be some
good reason in Christian's conduct, decides to accompany him to the
wicket gate, and they converse on the way.
THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND
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 Despond. 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.
Then said Pliable, "Ah! neighbor Christian, where are you now?"
"Truly," said Christian, "I do not know."
At this 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 the 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 endeavored 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 he could not get out, because of the burden that was
upon his back; but I beheld in my dream, that a man came to him whose
name was Help, and asked him what he did there?
"Sir," said Christian, "I was bid 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 you not look for the steps?"
_Chr._ "Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next way, and
fell in."
[Illustration: IN THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND ]
_Help._ "Then 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.
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 mire 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 the ground.
"It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain so
bad. His laborers also have, by the direction of His Majesty's
surveyors, been for above these sixteen hundred years employed about
this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have been mended: yea, and to
my knowledge," said he, "here have been swallowed up at least twenty
thousand cart-loads, yea, millions of wholesome instructions, that have
at all seasons been brought from all places of the King's dominions,
and they that can tell say that 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.
"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 beside, 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."
Now, I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable was got home to his
house again, so that his neighbors 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 as 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.
* * * * *
Christian proceeds on his way, meeting many persons and conversing with
them, often discouraged, but always persistent in his idea of gaining
Mount Zion and the holy city. The perils that he meets do not overwhelm
him, and even when he is apparently doomed to certain destruction, some
happy turn of events sets him again on his way rejoicing. Friends also
appear to help him whenever he most needs them.
THE FIGHT WITH APOLLYON
When 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,
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 stayed.
[Illustration: THE FIGHT WITH APOLLYON ]
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. Then he asked the name of the country. They said
it was Emmanuel'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 armory." 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 accoutered, walketh out with his friends to
the gate, and there he asked the porter if he saw a pilgrim pass by.
Then the porter answered, "Yes."
_Chr_. "Pray, did you know him?"
_Por_. "I asked him his name, and he told me it was Faithful."
_Chr_. "Oh, I know him; he is my townsman, my near neighbor; he
comes from the place where I was born. How far do you think he may be
before?"
_Por_. "He has got by this time below the hill."
_Chr_. "Well, 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, 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.
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
armor 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. 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.
When he was come up to Christian, he beheld him with a disdainful
countenance, and thus began to question with him.
_Apol_. "Whence came 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,' 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,
neither will I as yet loose 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; and beside, 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 beside, O
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, beside, 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 the 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, O 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 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."
_Chr._ "All this is true, and much more which thou hast left out;
but the Prince whom I serve and honor 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."
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."
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;
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 his 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."
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, O mine enemy: when I fall I shall
rise," 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's wings, and sped him
away, that Christian for a season saw him no more.
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 dreadfulest sight that ever I saw.
"A more unequal match can hardly be,
Christian must fight an Angel; but you see,
The valiant man by handling Sword and Shield,
Doth make him, tho' a Dragon, quit the field."
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. 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.