THE CHILDREN'S HOUR
IN TEN VOLUMES
The Children's Hour
STORIES FROM SEVEN OLD FAVORITES
Selected & Arranged by Eva March Tappan
Houghton Mifflin Company
Between the dark and the daylight, when the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the days occupations, that is known as the Children's Hour.
TO THE CHILDREN
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
CHRISTIAN PASSES THROUGH THE WICKET GATE John Bunyan
A VISIT TO THE HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER John Bunyan
AT THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL John Bunyan
CHRISTIAN'S FIGHT WITH APOLLYON John Bunyan
THE CASTLE OF GIANT DESPAIR John Bunyan
THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS John Bunyan
THE PILGRIMS WANDER FROM THE WAY John Bunyan
THE CELESTIAL CITY John Bunyan
ROBINSON CRUSOE IS SHIPWRECKED Daniel Defoe
UNLOADING A WRECK Daniel Defoe
ROBINSON CRUSOE'S FIRST HOME ON THE ISLAND Daniel Defoe
ROBINSON CRUSOE BUILDS A BOAT Daniel Defoe
THE MYSTERIOUS FOOTPRINT Daniel Defoe
THE COMING OF FRIDAY Daniel Defoe
HOMEWARD BOUND Daniel Defoe
GULLIVER IS SHIPWRECKED ON THE COAST OF LILLIPUT Jonathan Swift
GULLIVER SEIZES THE ENEMY'S FLEET Jonathan Swift
A LILLIPUTIAN ODE TO THE MAN-MOUNTAIN Jonathan Swift
AMONG THE BROBDINGNAGIAN GIANTS Jonathan Swift
ADVENTURES IN BROBDINGNAG Jonathan Swift
GULLIVER'S ESCAPE Jonathan Swift
DON QUIXOTE DETERMINES TO BECOME A KNIGHT Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
THE FIGHT WITH THE WINDMILLS Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
THE INNKEEPER'S BILL Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
THE BATTLE OF THE SHEEP Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
THE CONQUEST OF MAMBRINO'S HELMET Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
DON QUIXOTE'S BATTLE WITH THE GIANTS Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
DON QUIXOTE MEETS THE LIONS Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
THE RIDE ON THE WOODEN HORSE Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
THE THREE THOUSAND THREE HUNDRED AND ODD LASHES Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
THE RETURN AND DEATH OF DON QUIXOTE Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
THE ARABIAN NIGHTS
THE STORY OF ALADDIN; OR, THE WONDERFUL LAMP
ALI BABA AND THE FORTY THIEVES
SINDBAD THE SAILOR
THE TRAVELS OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN
THE BARON'S FIRST WANDERINGS Rodolph Eric Raspe
THE BARON'S JOURNEY TO ST. PETERSBURG Rodolph Eric Raspe
THE BARON'S WONDERFUL HORSE Rodolph Eric Raspe
THE BARON'S COLD DAY Rodolph Eric Raspe
TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS Charles and Mary Lamb
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE Charles and Mary Lamb
THE TEMPEST Charles and Mary Lamb
FERDINAND AND ARIEL Sir John Everett Millais
CHRISTIAN IS HARNESSED FOR THE PILGRIMAGE David Scott, R.S.A.
CAUGHT CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL ASLEEP David Scott, R.S.A.
THE SECOND RAFT J. Finnemore
THE PRINT OF A MAN'S NAKED FOOT ON THE SHORE J. Finnemore
PRODUCING HIS CREDENTIALS T. Morten
THE HUGE CREATURE TROD SHORT T. Morten
HURLED AWAY BOTH KNIGHT AND HORSE Gustave Dore
A HIDEOUS GENIE OF GIGANTIC SIZE APPEARED Robert Smirke, R.A.
THE GREAT HEAPS OF GOLD DAZZLED HER EYES Robert Smirke, R.A.
PURSUED BY THE ROCS J.D. Batten
THE LION JUMPED FORWARD INTO THE CROCODILE'S MOUTH Gustave Dore
THE VESSEL WILL BE DASHED TO PIECES G. Romney
TO THE CHILDREN
This volume is made up of stories from seven famous books. These books are as different as they can possibly be; and yet there are not many boys and girls who do not like every one of them. The chief reason for this is because they seem so true, so much more "real" than most other stories. When you read about Tom Thumb, for instance, you do not really believe that there ever was a little boy no bigger than his mother's thumb; at least, you do not believe it in the same way that you believe the sun shines or the wind blows; but when you read "Robinson Crusoe," you feel as if every word of it must be true.
The first of these books is "The Pilgrim's Progress." In one way it is a little like a fable; that is, when you read it the first time, it is simply a good story. Afterwards—sometimes a long while afterwards—you read it again or sit thinking about it, and suddenly you see that it has another meaning, that it is more than the story of a man who makes a wonderful journey. This book was written in jail by a man named John Bunyan. The English laws of that time would not allow any one to preach except clergymen of the Church of England. Bunyan, however, felt that it would be wicked for him to obey these laws, so he kept on preaching. He was thrown into prison, and the prisons of those days were horrible places. "If you will promise not to preach again, you shall be free," said the officers. "If you let me out to-day I will preach again to-morrow," declared Bunyan; and meanwhile he preached to the other prisoners. He thought of his wife and children and of how little he could do to support them while he was in jail; he thought of his little blind daughter Mary; but still he said to himself, "I must, I must do it." For twelve long years he stayed in prison. He made tags for shoe laces to sell to help his family; and he wrote the book that has been read by more people than any other volume except the Bible.
The second book, "Robinson Crusoe," was written by Daniel Defoe; and he, too, knew what it was to be in jail. He was not imprisoned for preaching, but for his political writings. Once when he had written a pamphlet that did not please the authorities, he was condemned to stand in the pillory. The people took his part, and, instead of throwing stones at him, they dropped roses about him and bought thousands of copies of a poem that he had written while in jail.
He wrote many books, but his best, "Robinson Crusoe," was produced after he had become a middle-aged man and had some money and a big, homely house with plenty of ground for his favorite gardening. The way the book came to be written was this. A sailor named Alexander Selkirk spent more than four years alone on the island of Juan Fernandez. When he was rescued and brought to England, many people went to gaze at him in his goatskin clothes and to hear him talk about his life on the island. Defoe went with the others, and he never forgot the stories told by the sailor in goatskins. Seven years later he worked in his garden and thought about the desert island. Then he went into his house and wrote the book that everybody likes, "Robinson Crusoe."
"Gulliver's Travels" was written by an Irish clergyman named Jonathan Swift. He was a strange man. Some people said he was a genius, and some said he had always been a little insane. When he wrote, he often seemed to care for nothing but to say the most cutting, scornful things that he could. There was one class of persons, however, who loved him from the bottom of their hearts, and they were the poor people about his home in Ireland. It is true that he sometimes scolded them, but they saw straight through his grumbling and understood that he really cared for them and wanted to help them, and they loved him and trusted him. He lived more than two hundred years ago, but the Irish have never forgotten him; and even to this day, if you should wander about in Ireland, you would see in many a little cottage people gathered around the fire, telling over and over the stories that their grandmothers had told them of his kind heart and his peculiar ways.
"The Pilgrim's Progress," "Robinson Crusoe," and "Gulliver's Travels" were all written by men of the British Isles, but our fourth book, "Don Quixote," was written by a Spaniard named Cervantes. He was a soldier part of his life and as valiant a fighter as his own hero. For five years he was a prisoner of war; he was poor and sick and in one trouble after another; but he was always brave and cheerful and good-humored. In his day, the Spaniards read few books except queer old romances of chivalry, the sort of tale in which a great champion goes out with his squire to wander over the world in search of adventures. He makes thieves give back what they have stolen, he sets prisoners free, he rescues beautiful maidens who have been dragged away from their homes; in short, he roams about making people do whatever he thinks proper. Sometimes he takes a castle all by himself, sometimes he gets the better of a whole group of champions or a host of giants or even a dragon or two. Cervantes's book makes fun of such tales as these. His hero attacks a terrible company of giants standing on a plain all ready to destroy him; but the giants prove to be windmills, and their sails give him many a heavy blow before his fight with them is over. Another time, he finds the giants in his very bedroom; and the courageous knight cuts off their heads as fast as he can swing his sword. Blood flows like water; only when a light is brought, it does not prove to be blood but—well, it is not fair to tell the rest of the story. We must let Cervantes do that for himself in "Don Quixote's Battle with the Giants."
The fifth book, the "Arabian Nights," is a mystery. We do not know who composed the stories or who brought them together in one collection. We cannot even tell where they came from. The most we can say positively is that two hundred years ago a Frenchman traveling through the East came across them in some Arabian manuscripts and translated them into French. Whether they came in the first place from Arabia or Persia or India, whether they were composed five or six hundred years ago or at least one thousand, no one can say. Many learned scholars have tried in vain to answer these questions; but if we had to choose between having the stories and knowing who wrote them, I do not believe that any boy or girl who had read even one of them would find it difficult to make a choice.
The sixth book, "The Travels of Baron Munchausen," is said to have been written by a German named Raspe; but it is just as well not to believe this statement too positively, for it is quite possible that Raspe had nothing to do with the book. Learned scholars have held profound discussions on the source of the stories. One in particular, that of the frozen tunes which began to play of themselves as soon as they thawed, has been found in some form in several countries. The best match for the Baron's version is the old tale of the merchants who set out one day to buy furs. When they came to a river, they saw the fur dealers standing on the opposite shore. The dealers held up their furs and seemed to be shouting their prices, but it was so cold that the words froze in the air. Then the merchants went out on the ice and built a great fire. It warmed the air overhead, and the words thawed and came down. But long before this, the dealers had gone home. The merchants thought the prices too high, so they, too, went home; and that was the end of the tale. The "Travels" is full of stories as absurd as this, but told in such a way that while you are reading them, and sometimes for as much as five minutes afterwards, you feel as if they were really true.
The seventh and last of the books is the plays of Shakespeare. A play always contains a story, and it is the stories of some of Shakespeare's dramas that are given here. In the real plays there is much more than stories, however, because Shakespeare was not only a story-teller but also a poet. A poet must express what he sees and thinks in a way to give pleasure and he must see more than other people. Now when Shakespeare puts a thought into words, we find that no one else has expressed it so well. Moreover, he sees more clearly than any other writer how a person would feel and behave in various circumstances. As we read the plays, we say to ourselves of one character after another, "That is just the way I should feel if I were that person." We think of them as real people. We talk of what they would have done if circumstances had been different. It is only a great genius who can make out of words characters that seem almost as real as the people around us, but this is what William Shakespeare has done.
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
CHRISTIAN PASSES THROUGH THE WICKET GATE
By John Bunyan
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. He knocked therefore more then once or twice, saying,—
"May I now enter here? Will he within Open to sorry me, though I have bin 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?
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.
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 they that are with him shoot arrows at those that come up to this Gate, if haply they may dye before they can enter in. Then said Christian, I rejoyce 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 Slow of Dispond, 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 countrey 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 Coelestial 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 'twixt him and myself. 'T 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 of one Mr. Worldly Wiseman.
Good-Will. O, 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; 't 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 't 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 O, what a favor 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 in no wise are cast out; 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, his Apostles; and it is as straight as a rule can make it: This is the way thou must go.
Chr. But said Christian, Is there no turnings nor windings, by which a Stranger may lose the 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, that only being straight and narrow.
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 the Burden, be content to bear it, until thou comest to the place of Deliverance; for there it will fall from thy back 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.
A VISIT TO THE HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER
By John Bunyan
Then Christian went on till he came at the House of the Interpreter, where he knocked over and over; at last one came to the door, and asked Who was there?
Chr. Sir, here is a Travailler, 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 shew me excellent things, such as would be an help to me in my Journey.
Inter. Then said the Interpreter, Come in, I will shew thee that which will be profitable to thee. So he commanded his man to light the Candle, 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 lift up to Heaven, the best of Books in its hand, the Law of Truth was written upon its lips, the World was behind his back. It stood as if it pleaded with men, and a Crown of Gold did hang over his head.
Chr. Then said Christian, What means this?
Inter. The Man whose Picture this is, is one of a thousand; he can beget Children, travel in birth with Children, and nurse them himself when they are born. And whereas thou seest him with eyes lift up to Heaven, the best of Books in his hand, and the Law of Truth writ on his lips, it is to shew 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 shew 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 shewed 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 shewed 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 choaked. 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 choaked therewith; this is to shew 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, as it doth discover and forbid it, but doth not give power to subdue.
Again, as thou sawest the Damsel sprinkle the room with Water, upon which it was cleansed with pleasure; this is to shew 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.
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 eldest was Passion, and the name of the other Patience. Passion seemed to be much discontent; but Patience was very quiet. Then Christian asked, What is the reason of the discontent of Passion? The Interpreter answered, The Governour 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 rejoyced therein; and withall, 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 then 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 Raggs; so will it be with all such Men at the end of this World.
Chr. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience has the best wisdom, and that upon many accounts. 1. Because he stays for the best things. 2. And also because he will have the Glory of his, when the other has nothing but Raggs.
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, In thy Lifetime thou hadest or receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented.
Chr. Then I perceive 'tis 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 that are not seen are Eternal. 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 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 he saw a man with a Vessel of Oyl in his hand, of the which he did also continually cast (but secretly) into the Fire.
Then said Christian, What means this?
The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, who continually, with the Oyl 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. And in that thou sawest that the man stood behind the Wall to maintain the Fire, this is to teach thee that it is hard for the tempted to see how this word 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 cloathed all in gold.
Then said Christian May we go in thither?
Then the Interpreter took him, and led him up toward 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 door-way 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 a muse. 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: 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, and pressed forward into the Palace, at which there was a pleasant voice heard from those that were within, even of the Three that walked upon the top of the Palace, saying,—
Come in, Come in; Eternal Glory thou shall win.
So he went in, and was cloathed with such Garments as they. Then Christian smiled, and said, I think verily I know the meaning of this.
Now, said Christian, let me go hence. Nay stay, said the Interpreter, till I have shewed 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 Coelestial City, and had then even joy at the thoughts that I should get thither.
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; O now I cannot.
Chr. But how comest 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 are there no hopes 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 this 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, I have despised his Person, I have despised his Righteousness, I have counted his Blood an unholy thing; I have done despite to the Spirit of Grace. Therefore I have shut myself out of all the Promises, and there now remains to me nothing but threatnings, dreadful threatnings, fearful threatnings of certain Judgement which shall devour me as an Adversary.
Chr. For what did you bring yourself into this condition?
Man. For the Lusts, Pleasures, and Profits of this World; in the injoyment of which I did then promise myself much delight; but now even every one of those things also bite me, and gnaw me like a burning worm.
Chr. 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. O 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 remembred by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee.
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. Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way now?
Inter. Tarry till I shall shew 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 Rayment, 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 lightned 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 was on a burning flame. I heard then a voice saying, Arise ye Dead, and come to Judgement; 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 the Prisoners at the bar. 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. And with that, the bottomless pit opened, just whereabout I stood; out of the mouth of which there came in an abundant manner, Smoak and Coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was also said to the same persons, Gather my Wheat into my Garner. And with that I saw many catch't 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 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 Judgement 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 within afflicted me; and as I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon me, shewing indignation in his countenance.
Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou considered all these things?
Chr. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear.
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 began to take in hand; Then let me think on them, and understand Wherefore they shew'd me was, and let me be Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee.
AT THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL
By John Bunyan
Behold there was a very stately Palace before him, the name of which was Beautiful; and it stood just by the High-way side.
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, he 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. Now, thought he, I see the dangers that Mistrust and Timorus 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? 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 clapt 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 to-night? 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 to-night.
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 Japhet, whom God will perswade to dwell in the Tents of Shem.
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 Hillside; 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 to-night; 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 to-night, 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 in to 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. Then he bowed his head, and followed them into the house. So when he was come in and set 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 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; specially 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 Judgement 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 ake 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 shewed 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 could have stayed at that good man's house a twelve-month, 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 weary Burden), but then it fell down from off me. 'Twas 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 stript me of my Rags, and gave me this broidred 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 then 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, lye 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 Formalist and Hypocrisie come tumbling over the wall, to go, as they pretended, to Sion; 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 Lion's 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.
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 chuse mine own things, I would chuse 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.
Prud. Do you not find sometimes, as if those things were vanquished, which at other times are your perplexity?
Chr. Yes, but that is seldom; but they are to me golden hours in which such things happen to me.
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.
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. 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.
Char. And why did you not bring them along with you?
Chr. Then Christian wept, and said, Oh, 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 shewen them the danger of being behind.
Chr. So I did, and told them also what God had shewed to me of the destruction of our City; but I seemed to them as one that mocked, and they believed me not.
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?
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. 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; and if thy Wife and Children have been offended with thee for this, they thereby shew themselves to be implacable to good, and thou hast delivered thy soul from their blood.
Now I saw in my Dream, that thus they sat talking together until supper was ready. 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 Warriour, 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.
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 seen and spoke with him since he did dye 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 stript 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.
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 towards the Sun-rising; the name of the chamber was Peace, where he slept till break of day; and then he awoke and sang,—
"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 shewed him the Rarities of that place. And first they had him into the Study, where they shewed him Records of the greatest Antiquity; in which, as I remember my Dream, they shewed him first the Pedigree of the Lord of the Hill, that he was the Son of the Ancient of Days, and came by an 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 decaies 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.
Then they read again in another part of the Records of the house, where it was shewed 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 Armory, where they shewed him all manner of Furniture, which their Lord had provided for Pilgrims, as Sword, Shield, Helmet, Brestplate, All-prayer, and Shooes that would not wear out. 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.
They also shewed him some of the Engines with which some of his Servants had done wonderful things. They shewed him Moses' Rod; the Hammer and Nail with which Jael slew Sisera; the Pitchers, Trumpets, and Lamps too, with which Gideon put to flight the Armies of Midian. Then they shewed him the Oxes goad wherewith Shamger slew six hundred men. They shewed him also the Jaw-bone with which Samson did such mighty feats. They shewed 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 shewed him besides many excellent things, with which Christian was much delighted. This done, they went to their rest again.
Then I saw in my Dream, that on the morrow he got up to go forwards, but they desired him to stay till the next day also; and then, said they, we will (if the day be clear) shew you the Delectable Mountains, which, they said, would yet further add to his comfort, because they were nearer the desired Haven then 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, Vinyards, Fruits of all sorts, Flowers also; Springs and Fountains, very delectable to behold. 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 maist see to the gate of the Coelestial City, as the Shepheards 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 acoutred, 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?
Por. I asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful.
Chr. O, 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 has 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 shewed 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 an 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.
Then I saw in my Dream that these good Companions, when Christian was gone down 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.
CHRISTIAN'S FIGHT WITH APOLLYON
By John Bunyan
In this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was hard put up 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 whither 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 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 then the saving of my life, 't would be the best way to stand.
So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the Monster was hidious to behold; he was cloathed with scales like a Fish (and they are his pride); he had wings like a Dragon, and out of his belly came Fire and Smoak; 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 come you? and whither are you bound?
Chr. I 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 maiest 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 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 diddest the same to me, and yet I am willing to pass by all, if now thou will turn again and go back.
Chr. What I promised thee was in my nonage; and besides, I count that 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, 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 perswade 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 our 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, 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 Dispond; thou diddest 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 perswaded 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 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.
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 High-way, the way of Holiness, therefore take heed to yourself.
Apol. Then Apollyon strodled quite over the whole breadth of the way, and said, I am void of fear in this matter, prepare thyself to dye; for I swear thou shalt go no further; here will I spill thy soul.
And with that he threw a flaming Dart at his brest, 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 'twas 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: and with that he had almost prest 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 reached out his hand for his Sword, and caught it, saying, Rejoyce not against me, O mine Enemy! when I fall I shall arise; 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 then Conquerours. 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 brast 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 'twas the dreadfullest sight that ever I saw.
So when the Battel was over, Christian said, I will here give thanks to him that hath 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 harnest out: and he with rage That hellish was, did fiercely me ingage: 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 an hand, with some of the leaves of the Tree of Life, the which Christian took, and applyed to the wounds that he had received in the Battel, 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.
THE CASTLE OF GIANT DESPAIR
By John Bunyan
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. 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: 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. Thus they did several days and nights. Then they sang,—
"Behold ye how these Christal streams do glide, (To comfort Pilgrims) by the High-way 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 eat and drank, and departed.
Now I beheld in my Dream, that they had not journied 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 soul of the Pilgrims was much discouraged because of the way. Wherefore still as they went on, they wished for 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 Bypath-Meadow. Then said Christian to his fellow, If this Meadow lieth along by our way-side, let's go over into it. Then he went to the Stile to see, and behold a Path lay along by the way on the other side of the fence. 'Tis 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's not like, said the other; look, doth it not go along by the way-side? So Hopeful, being perswaded by his fellow, went after him over the Stile. When they were gone over, and were got into the Path, they found it very easie 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 Coelestial Gate. Look, said Christian, did I not 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 vain-glorious fools withall, 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 lighten 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't at very first, and therefore gave you that gentle caution. I would have spoke plainer, but that you are older then I.
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 eminent 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's 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 Let thine heart be towards the Highway, even the way that 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 liked 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 till the day brake; 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 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 then 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 'twas through his unadvised haste that they were brought into this distress.
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 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 gave him never 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 chuse 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 Sunshine 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 'twas 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 chuseth 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 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. 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 but he may in 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's 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, 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, and I think that Christian fell into a Swound; 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, 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's exercise a little more patience; remember how thou played'st 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 chuse rather to bear all hardship, than to make away themselves. Then said she, Take them into the Castle-yard to-morrow, and shew them the Bones and Skulls of those that thou hast already dispatch'd, and make them believe, e're a week comes to an end, thou also wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast done their fellows before them.
So when the morning was come, the Giant goes to them again, and takes them into the Castle-yard and shews 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 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 pick-locks 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's 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, so that he could by no means go after them. Then they went on, and came to the King's High-way again, 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 Coelestial 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."
THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS
By John Bunyan
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. Now there was on the tops of these Mountains Shepherds feeding their flocks, and they stood by the High-way 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.
Chr. Is this the way to the Coelestial 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 transgressors shall fall therein.
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; therefore the good of the place is before you.
I saw also in my Dream, that when the Shepherds perceived that they were way-fairing 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 shew 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.
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. They said moreover, We would that ye should stay here a while, to acquaint with us; and yet more to solace yourselves with the good of these Delectable Mountains. They told them that they were content to stay; and 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 shew these Pilgrims some wonders? So when they had concluded to do it, they had them first to the top of an Hill called Errour, which was very steep on the furthest side, and bid them look down to the bottom. So Christian and Hopeful lookt 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? 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.
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; 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. 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 men (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 awhile 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. Then Christian and Hopeful looked upon one another, with tears gushing out, but yet said nothing to the Shepherds.
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 smoaky; they also thought that they heard there a lumbring 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 by-way to Hell, a way that Hypocrites go in at; namely, such as sell their Birthright, with Esau; such as sell their Master, as Judas; such as blaspheme the Gospel, with Alexander; and that lie and dissemble, with Ananias and Sapphira his Wife.
Hope. Then said Hopeful to the Shepherds, I perceive that these had on them, even every one, a shew 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 Pilgrimage in their day, since they notwithstanding were thus miserably cast away?
Shep. Some further, and some not so far as these Mountains.
Then said the Pilgrims one to another, We had need to cry to the Strong for strength.
Shep. Ay, and you will have need to use it when you have it too.
By this time the Pilgrims had a desire to go forwards, 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 shew to the Pilgrims the Gates of the Coelestial City, if they have still to look through our Perspective-Glass. The Pilgrims then lovingly accepted the motion; so they had them to the top of an high Hill, called Clear, and gave them their Glass to look.
Then they assayed to look, but the remembrance of that last thing that the Shepherds had shewed them, made their hands shake, by means of which impediment they could not look steddily through the Glass; yet they thought they saw something like the Gate, and also some of the Glory of the place. Then they went away.
THE PILGRIMS WANDER FROM THE WAY
By John Bunyan
Christian and Hopeful 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? They answered they were going to the Coelestial 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 intangled, 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.