temperament, so that his trials and other experiences have been
different, but the two proceed on their journey together happy in good
companionship. They pass through Vanity Fair, and Faithful is stoned to
death.
After Christian's escape from Vanity Fair he is joined by Hopeful, and
the two travel on as he and Faithful had done. Their trials continue
but Christian finds even more help in the cheerful nature of Hopeful
than in the gentle disposition of Faithful, and he looks forward
without great dread to other trials which he may have to endure.
DOUBTING CASTLE AND GIANT DESPAIR
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."
Wherefore, as still they went on, they wished for a better way. 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 wayside, let us go over into it."
Then he went to the stile to see, and, behold, a path lay along 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?"
_Chr_. "That is not like. Look, doth it not go along by the wayside?"
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.
"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 (Vain-confidence by name), not seeing
the way before him, fell into a deep pit, which was on purpose there
made, by the prince of those grounds, to catch vainglorious fools
withal, and was dashed in pieces with his fall.
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 lightning in a very
dreadful manner, and the water rose amain.
Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, "Oh, 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 spoken plainer, but that you are
older than I."
[Illustration: IN DOUBTING CASTLE ]
_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."
_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, 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."
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 ten times.
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 daybreak, 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; and it was in his
grounds they were now 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. 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.
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, because it was through his unadvised counsel they were brought
into this distress.
"The Pilgrims now, to gratify the flesh, Will seek its ease; but oh!
how they afresh Do thereby plunge themselves new griefs into; Who seek
to please the flesh, themselves undo."
Now, Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence. 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 crabtree 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 they were yet alive, did advise him to
counsel them to make away with 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?"
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), 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, what shall we do? The life that we now live is
miserable. For my part I know not whether it 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. Shall we be ruled by
the Giant?"
_Hope._ "Indeed, our present condition is dreadful, and death
would be far more welcome to me than thus forever 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.'
"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 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.
Well, toward 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, and I think that Christian fell into a
swoon; 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, but
Hopeful made his second reply as followeth:
_Hope._ "My brother, 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."
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 with themselves."
"Then," said she, "take them into the castleyard to-morrow, 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 their fellows before them."
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 ten 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.
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, 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.
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."
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, 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.
Then they went on, and came to the King's highway, and so were safe,
because they were out of his jurisdiction.
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. 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."
Having escaped from Doubting Castle they continue their perilous way,
ever drawing nearer to the Celestial City, and ever growing more
impatient for the end of their pilgrimage.
BEULAH LAND, DEATH, AND THE CELESTIAL CITY
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. 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. 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.
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 on 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." 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.
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!" Here all the inhabitants of the country called
them, "The holy people, The redeemed of the Lord sought out," etc.
[Illustration: The Celestial City]
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 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. 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."
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. He also showed them there the
King's walks, and the arbors where he delighted to be; and here they
tarried and slept.
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."
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") 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 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."
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, and 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."
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."
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. Then they asked the men if the
waters were all of a depth.
They said, "No;" yet they could not help them in the 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."
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 a 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.
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 a
while, he would rise up again half dead. Hopeful also did endeavor 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."
"And so have you," said he to Christian.
"Ah, brother;" said he, "surely if I was 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.' 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."
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;" and with that Christian brake out with a loud
voice, "Oh! I see Him again, and He tells me, 'When thou passeth
through the waters I will be with thee; and through the river, 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.
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 forth to minister for 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; 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. 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.