Pilgrim's Progress: Part Two, Section X.
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Then they went on; and just at the place where Little-faith formerly
was robbed, there stood a man with his Sword drawn, and his Face all bloody.
Then said Mr Great-heart, What art thou? The man made answer, saying, I am
one whose name is Valiant-for-truth. I am a Pilgrim, and am going to the
Coelestial City. Now as I was in my way, there were three men did beset me and
propounded unto me these three things: 1. Whether I would become one of them?
2. Or go back from whence I came? 3. Or die upon the place? To the first I
answered, I had been a true man a long season, and therefore it could not be
expected that I now should cast in my Lot with Thieves. Then they demanded
what I would say to the second. So I told them that the place from whence I
came, had I not found Incommodity there, I had not forsaken it at all; but
finding it altogether unsuitable to me, and very unprofitable for me, I
forsook it for this way. Then they asked me what I said to the third. And I
told them, My life cost more dear far than that I should lightly give it away.
Besides, you have nothing to do thus to put things to my Choice, wherefore at
your Peril be it if you meddle. Then these three, to wit Wild-head,
Inconsiderate and Pragmatick, drew upon me, and I also drew upon them.
So we fell to it, one against three, for the space of above three hours.
They have left upon me, as you see, some of the marks of their Valour, and
have also carried away with them some of mine. They are but just now gone. I
suppose they might, as the saying is, hear your Horse dash, and so they betook
them to flight.
Great-heart. But here was great odds, three against one.
Valiant. 'Tis true, but little or more are nothing to him that has the
Truth on his side. Tho' an Host encamp against me, said one, my heart shall
not fear; tho' War should rise against me, in this will I be confident, &c.
Besides, saith he, I have read in some Records, that one man has fought an
Army; and how many did Samson slay with the Jaw-bone of an Ass?
Great-heart. Then said the Guide, Why did you not cry out, that some
might a come in for your succour?
Valiant. So I did, to my King, who I knew could hear, and afford
invisible help, and that was sufficient for me.
Great-heart. Then said Great-heart to Mr Valiant-for-truth, Thou
hast worthily behaved thyself. Let me see thy Sword. So he shewed it him. When
he had taken it in his hand, and looked thereon a while, he said, Ha, it is a
right Jerusalem Blade.
Valiant. It is so. Let a man have one of these Blades, with a Hand to
wield it and Skill to use it, and he may venture upon an Angel with it. He
need not fear its holding, if he can but tell how to lay on. Its edges will
never blunt. It will cut flesh and bones and soul and spirit and all.
Great-heart. But you fought a great while, I wonder you was not weary.
Valiant. I fought till my Sword did cleave to my Hand; and when they were
joined together, as if a Sword grew out of my Arm, and when the Blood ran
through my Fingers, then I fought with most courage.
Great-heart. Thou hast done well. Thou hast resisted unto Blood,
striving against Sin. Thou shalt abide by us, come in and go out with us, for
we are thy Companions.
Then they took him and washed his Wounds, and gave him of what they had
to refresh him, and so they went on together. Now as they went on, because Mr
Great-heart was delighted in him (for he loved one greatly that he found to
be a man of his hands) and because there were with his Company them that was
feeble and weak, therefore he questioned with him about many things, as first,
what Country-man he was?
Valiant. I am of Dark-land, for there I was born, and there my Father
and Mother are still.
Great-heart. Dark-land, said the Guide, doth not that lie upon the
same Coast with the City of Destruction?
Valiant. Yes it doth. Now that which caused me to come on Pilgrimage was
this; we had one Mr Tell-true came into our parts, and he told it about what
Christian had done, that went from the City of Destruction, namely, how he had
forsaken his Wife and Children, and had betaken himself to a Pilgrim's life.
It was also confidently reported how he had killed a Serpent that did come out
to resist him in his Journey, and how he got through to whither he intended.
It was also told what Welcome he had at all his Lord's Lodgings, especially
when he came to the Gates of the Coelestial City, for there, said the man, he
was received with sound of Trumpet by a company of Shining Ones. He told it
also, how all the Bells in the City did ring for joy at his reception, and
what Golden Garments he was cloathed with, with many other things that now I
shall forbear to relate. In a word, that man so told the story of Christian
and his Travels, that my heart fell into a burning haste to be gone after him,
nor could Father or Mother stay me: so I got from them, and am come thus far
on my way.
Great-heart. You came in at the Gate, did you not?
Valiant. Yes, yes, for the same man also told us that all would be
nothing, if we did not begin to enter this way at the Gate.
Great-heart. Look you, said the Guide to Christiana, the Pilgrimage of
your Husband, and what he has gotten thereby, is spread abroad far and near.
Valiant. Why, is this Christian's wife?
Great-heart. Yes, that it is, and these are also her four Sons.
Valiant. What, and going on Pilgrimage too?
Great-heart. Yes verily they are following after.
Valiant. It glads me at heart. Good man, how joyful will he be when he
shall see them that would not go with him, yet to enter after him in at the
Gates into the City.
Great-heart. Without doubt it will be a comfort to him; for next to the
joy of seeing himself there, it will be a joy to meet there his Wife and his
Valiant. But now you are upon that, pray let me hear your opinion about
it. Some make a question, Whether we shall know one another when we are there?
Great-heart. Do they think they shall know themselves then, or that
they shall rejoice to see themselves in that Bliss? and if they think they
shall know and do these, why not know others, and rejoice in their Welfare
Again, since Relations are our second self, though that state will be
dissolved there, yet why may it not be rationally concluded that we shall be
more glad to see them there than to see they are wanting?
Valiant. Well, I perceive whereabouts you are as to this. Have you any
more things to ask me about my beginning to come on Pilgrimage?
Great-heart. Yes. Was your Father and Mother willing that you should
become a Pilgrim?
Valiant. Oh no. They used all means imaginable to persuade me to stay at
Great-heart. What could they against it?
Valiant. They said it was an idle life, and if I myself were not inclined
to Sloth and Laziness, I would never countenance a Pilgrim's condition.
Great-heart. And what did they say else?
Valiant. Why, they told me that it was a dangerous way; yea, the most
dangerous way in the World, said they, is that which the Pilgrims go.
Great-heart. Did they shew wherein this way is so dangerous?
Valiant. Yes, and that in many particulars.
Great-heart. Name some of them.
Valiant. They told me of the Slough of Dispond, where Christian was well
nigh smothered. They told me that there were Archers standing ready in
Beelzebub-castle to shoot them that should knock at the Wicket-gate for
entrance. They told me also of the Wood and dark Mountains, of the Hill
Difficulty, of the Lions, and also of the three Giants, Bloody-man, Maul and
Slay-good. They said moreover that there was a foul Fiend haunted the Valley
of Humiliation, and that Christian was by him almost bereft of Life. Besides,
say they, you must go over the Valley of the Shadow of Death, where the
Hobgoblins are, where the Light is Darkness, where the way is full of Snares,
Pits, Traps, and Gins. They told me also of Giant Despair, of Doubting Castle
and of the ruin that the Pilgrims met with there. Further, they said I must go
over the Inchanted Ground, which was dangerous. And that after all this, I
should find a River, over which I should find no Bridge, and that that River
did lie betwixt me and the Coelestial Country.
Great-heart. And was this all?
Valiant. No. They also told me that this way was full of Deceivers, and
of persons that laid await there, to turn good men out of the Path.
Great-heart. But how did they make that out?
Valiant. They told me that Mr Worldly Wiseman did there lie in wait to
deceive. They also said that there was Formality and Hypocrisy continually on
the road. They said also that By-ends, Talkative or Demas would go near to
gather me up, that the Flatterer would catch me in his Net, or that with green
- headed Ignorance I would presume to go on to the Gate, from whence he always
was sent back to the Hole that was in the side of the Hill, and made to go the
By-way to Hell.
Great-heart. I promise you this was enough to discourage, but did they
make an end here?
Valiant. No, stay. They told me also of many that had tried that way of
old, and that had gone a great way therein, to see if they could find
something of the Glory there that so many had so much talked of from time to
time; and how they came back again, and befooled themselves for setting a foot
out of doors in that Path, to the satisfaction of all the Country. And they
named several that did so, as Obstinate and Pliable, Mistrust and Timorous,
Turn-away and old Atheist, with several more, who, they said, had some of
them gone far to see if they could find, but not one of them found so much
advantage by going as amounted to the weight of a Feather.
Great-heart. Said they anything more to discourage you?
Valiant. Yes. They told me of one Mr Fearing who was a Pilgrim, and how
he found this way so solitary that he never had comfortable hour therein. Also
that Mr Dispondency had like to have been starved therein; yea, and also,
which I had almost forgot, that Christian himself, about whom there has been
such a noise, after all his ventures for a Coelestial Crown, was certainly
drowned in the black River, and never went foot further, however it was
Great-heart. And did none of these things discourage you?
Valiant. No, they seemed but as so many nothings to me.
Great-heart. How came that about?
Valiant. Why I still believed what Mr Tell-true had said, and that
carried me beyond them all.
Great-heart. Then this was your victory, even your Faith.
Valiant. It was so; I believed, and therefore came out, got into the Way,
fought all that set themselves against me, and by believing am come to this
Who would True valour see,
Let him come hither;
One here will constant be,
Come Wind, come Weather.
There's no Discouragement
Shall make him once relent
His first avow'd intent
To be a Pilgrim.
Who so beset him round
With dismal Stories,
Do but themselves confound,
His Strength the more is;
No Lion can him fright,
He'll with a Giant fight,
But he will have a right
To be a Pilgrim.
Hobgoblin nor foul Fiend
Can daunt his spirit;
He knows he at the end
Shall Life inherit.
Then Fancies fly away,
He'll fear not what men say,
He'll labour night and day
To be a Pilgrim.
By this time they were got to the Inchanted Ground, where the air
naturally tended to make one drowsy, and that place was all grown over with
Briars and Thorns, excepting here and there where was an Inchanted Arbor, upon
which if a man sits, or in which if a man sleeps, 'tis a question, say some,
whether ever he shall rise or wake again in this world. Over this Forest
therefore they went, both one with another, and Mr Great-heart went before
for that he was the Guide, and Mr Valiant-for-truth he came behind, being
there a Guard for fear lest peradventure some Fiend or Dragon or Giant or
Thief should fall upon their Rear, and so do mischief. They went on here each
man with his Sword drawn in his hand, for they knew it was a dangerous place.
Also they cheered up one another as well as they could; Feeblemind, Mr Great -
heart commanded should come up after him, and Mr Dispondency was under the eye
of Mr Valiant.
Now they had not gone far, but a great Mist and a Darkness fell upon them
all, so that they could scarce for a great while see the one the other.
Wherefore they were forced for some time to feel for one another by Words, for
they walked not by Sight.
But any one must think that here was but sorry going for the best of them
all, but how much worse for the Women and Children, who both of feet and heart
were but tender. Yet so it was, that through the encouraging words of him that
led in the front, and of him that brought them up behind, they made a pretty
good shift to wag along.
The way also was here very wearisome through Dirt and Slabbiness. Nor was
there on all this ground so much as one Inn or Victualling-house therein to
refresh the feebler sort. Here therefore was grunting and puffing and sighing.
While one tumbleth over a Bush, another sticks fast in the Dirt; and the
Children, some of them, lost their Shoes in the Mire. While one cries out, I
am down; and another, Ho, where are you? and a third, The Bushes have got such
fast hold on me, I think I cannot get away from them.
Then they come at an Arbor, warm, and promising much refreshing to the
Pilgrims; for it was finely wrought above head, beautified with Greens,
furnished with Benches and Settles. It also had in it a soft Couch whereon the
weary might lean. This you must think, all things considered, was tempting,
for the Pilgrims already began to be foiled with the badness of the way, but
there was not one of them that made so much as a motion to stop there. Yea,
for ought I could perceive, they continually gave so good heed to the advice
of their Guide, and he did so faithfully tell them to Dangers, and of the
nature of Dangers, when they were at them, that usually when they were nearest
to them they did most pluck up their Spirits, and hearten one another to deny
the Flesh. This Arbor was called the Slothful's Friend, on purpose to allure,
if it might be, some of the Pilgrims there to take up their Rest when weary.
I saw then in my Dream, that they went on in this their solitary ground,
till they came to a place at which a man is apt to lose his way. Now tho' when
it was light, their Guide could well enough tell how to miss those ways that
led wrong, yet in the dark he was put to a stand; but he had in his Pocket a
Map of all ways leading to or from the Coelestial City; wherefore he struck a
Light (for he never goes also without his Tinder-box) and takes a view of
his Book or Map, which bids him be careful in that place to turn to the right
- hand way. And had he not here been careful to look in his Map, they had all
in probability been smothered in the Mud, for just a little before them, and
that at the end of the cleanest way too, was a Pit, none knows how deep, full
of nothing but Mud, there made on purpose to destroy the Pilgrims in.
Then thought I with myself, who that goeth on Pilgrimage but would have
one of these Maps about him, that he may look when he is at a stand, which is
the way he must take?
They went on then in this Inchanted Ground till they came to where there
was another Arbor, and it was built by the High-way side. And in that Arbor
there lay two men whose names were Heedless and Too-bold. These two went
thus far on Pilgrimage, but here being wearied with their Journey, they sat
down to rest themselves, and so fell asleep. When the Pilgrims saw them, they
stood still, and shook their heads, for they knew that the sleepers were in a
pitiful case. Then they consulted what to do, whether to go on and leave them
in their sleep, or to step to them and try to awake them. So they concluded to
go to them and awake them, that is, if they could; but with this caution,
namely, to take heed that themselves did not sit down nor imbrace the offered
benefit of that Arbor.
So they went in and spake to the men, and called each by his name, (for
the Guide it seems did know them) but there was no voice nor answer. Then the
Guide did shake them, and do what he could to disturb them. Then said one of
them, I will pay you when I take my Mony. At which the Guide shook his Head. I
will fight so long as I can hold my Sword in my hand, said the other. At that
one of the Children laughed.
Then said Christiana, What is the meaning of this? The Guide said, They
talk in their Sleep. If you strike them, beat them, or whatever else you do to
them, they will answer you after this fashion; or as one of them said in old
time, when the Waves of the Sea did beat upon him, and he slept as one upon
the Mast of a Ship, When I awake I will seek it again. You know when men talk
in their Sleeps they say anything, but their words are not governed either by
Faith or Reason. There is an incoherency in their words now, as there was
before betwixt their going on Pilgrimage and sitting down here. This then is
the mischief on't, when heedless ones go on Pilgrimage 'tis twenty to one but
they are served thus. For this Inchanted Ground is one of the last Refuges
that the Enemy to Pilgrims has; wherefore it is, as you see, placed almost at
the end of the Way, and so it standeth against us with the more advantage. For
when, thinks the Enemy, will these Fools be so desirous to sit down, as when
they are weary? and when so like to be weary, as when almost at their
Journey's end? therefore it is I say, that the Inchanted Ground is placed so
nigh to the Land Beulah, and so near the end of their Race. Wherefore let
Pilgrims look to themselves, lest it happen to them as it has done to these,
that, as you see, are fallen asleep, and none can wake them.
Then the Pilgrims desired with trembling to go forward; only they prayed
their Guide to strike a Light, that they might go the rest of their way by the
help of the Light of a Lanthorn. So he struck a Light, and they went by the
help of that through the rest of this way, tho' the Darkness was very great.
But the Children began to be sorely weary, and they cried out unto him
that loveth Pilgrims to make their way more comfortable. So by that they had
gone a little further, a Wind arose that drove away the Fog, so the Air became
Yet they were not off (by much) of the Inchanted Ground, only now they
could see one another better, and the way wherein they should walk.
Now when they were almost at the end of this ground, they perceived that
a little before them was a solemn Noise, as of one that was much concerned. So
they went on and looked before them; and behold they saw, as they thought, a
man upon his Knees, with Hands and Eyes lift up, and speaking, as they
thought, earnestly to one that was above. They drew nigh, but could not tell
what he said; so they went softly till he had done. When he had done, he got
up and began to run towards the Coelestial City. Then Mr Great-heart called
after him, saying, Soho Friend, let us have your Company, if you go, as I
suppose you do, to the Coelestial City. So the man stopped, and they came up
to him. But so soon as Mr Honest saw him, he said, I know this man. Then said
Mr Valiant-for-truth, Prithee, who is it? 'Tis one, said he, who comes
from whereabouts I dwelt, his name is Stand-fast, he is certainly a right
So they came upon to another; and presently Stand-fast said to old
Honest, Ho Father Honest, are you there? Ay, said he, that I am, as sure as
you are there. Right glad am I, said Mr Stand-fast, that I have found you on
this Road. And as glad am I, said the other, that I espied you upon your
Knees. Then Mr Stand-fast blushed, and said, But why, did you see me? Yes,
that I did, quoth the other, and with my heart was glad at the sight. Why,
what did you think? said Stand-fast. Think, said Old Honest, what should I
think? I thought we had an honest man upon the Road, and therefore should have
his Company by and by. If you thought not amiss [said Stand-fast] how happy
am I, but if I be not as I should, I alone must bear it. That is true, said
the other, but your fear doth further confirm me that things are right betwixt
the Prince of Pilgrims and your Soul, for he saith, Blessed is the man that
Valiant. Well but Brother, I pray thee tell us what was it that was the
cause of thy being upon thy Knees even now? Was it for that some special mercy
laid obligations upon thee, or how?
Stand-fast. Why we are, as you see, upon the Inchanted Ground, and as I
was coming along, I was musing with myself of what a dangerous Road the Road
in this place was, and how many that had come even thus far on Pilgrimage had
here been stopt and been destroyeth. I thought also of the manner of the Death
with which this place destroyed men. Those that die here, die of no violent
Distemper. The Death which such die is not grievous to them, for he that goeth
away in a sleep begins that Journey with Desire and Pleasure; yea, such
acquiesce in the will of that Disease.
Hon. Then Mr Honest interrupting of him said, Did you see the two men
asleep in the Arbor?
Stand-fast. Ay, ay, I saw Heedless and Too-bold there, and for ought
I know, there they will lie till they rot. But let me go on in my Tale. As I
was thus musing, as I said, there was one in very pleasant attire, but old,
who presented herself unto me, and offered me three things, to wit, her Body,
her Purse and her Bed. Now the truth is, I was both a-weary and sleepy, I am
also as poor as a Howlet, and that perhaps the Witch knew. Well I repulsed her
once and twice, but she put by my repulses, and smiled. Then I began to be
angry, but she mattered that nothing at all. Then she made offers again, and
said, If I would be ruled by her, she would make me great and happy, for said
she, I am the Mistress of the World, and men are made happy by me. Then I
asked her name, and she told me it was Madam Bubble. This set me further from
her, but she still followed me with Inticements. Then I betook me, as you see,
to my Knees, and with hands lift up and cries, I pray'd to him that had said
he would help. So just as you came up, the Gentlewoman went her way. Then I
continued to give thanks for this my great Deliverance, for I verily believe
she intended no good, but rather sought to make stop of me in my Journey.
Hon. Without doubt her Designs were bad. But stay, now you talk of her,
methinks I either have seen her, or have read some story of her.
Stand-fast. Perhaps you have done both.
Hon. Madam Bubble, is she not a tall comely Dame, something of a swarthy
Stand-fast. Right, you hit it, she is just such an one.
Hon. Doth she not speak very smoothly, and give you a Smile at the end of
Stand-fast. You fall right upon it again, for these are her very
Hon. Doth she not wear a great Purse by her side, and is not her Hand
often in it fingering her Mony, as if that was her heart's delight?
Stand-fast. 'Tis just so; had she stood by all this while, you could
not more amply have set her forth before me, nor have better described her
Hon. Then he that drew her picture was a good Limner, and he that wrote
of her said true.
Great-heart. This woman is a Witch, and it is by vertue of her
Sorceries that this ground is inchanted. Whoever doth lay their Head down in
her Lap, had as good lay it down upon that Block over which the Ax doth hang;
and whoever lay their Eyes upon her Beauty, are counted the Enemies of God.
This is she that maintaineth in their splendor all those that are the Enemies
of Pilgrims. Yea, this is she that hath bought off many a man from a Pilgrim's
Life. She is a great Gossiper, she is always, both she and her Daughters, at
one Pilgrim's heels or another, now commending and then preferring the
excellencies of this Life. She is a bold and impudent Slut, she will talk with
any man. She always laugheth poor Pilgrims to scorn, but highly commends the
rich. If there be one cunning to get Mony in a place, she will speak well of
him from house to house. She loveth Banqueting and Feasting mainly well, she
is always at one full Table or another. She has given it out in some places
that she is a Goddess, and therefore some do worship her. She has her times
and open places of Cheating, and she will say and avow it that none can shew a
good comparable to hers. She promiseth to dwell with Children's Children, if
they will but love and make much of her. She will cast out of her Purse Gold
like Dust, in some places, and to some persons. She loves to be sought after,
spoken well of, and to lie in the Bosoms of Men. She is never weary of
commending her Commodities, and she loves them most that think best of her.
She will promise to some Crowns and Kingdoms if they will but take her advice,
yet many has she brought to the Halter, and ten thousand times more to Hell.
Stand-fast. Oh, said Stand-fast, what a mercy is it that I did resist
her, for whither might she a drawn me?
Great-heart. Whither, nay, none but God knows whither. But in general
to be sure, she would a drawn thee into many foolish and hurtful Lusts, which
drown men in Destruction and Perdition.
'Twas she that set Absalom against his Father, and Jeroboam against his
Master. 'Twas she that persuaded Judas to sell his Lord, and that prevailed
with Demas to forsake the godly Pilgrim's Life. None can tell of the Mischief
that she doth. She makes variance betwixt Rulers and Subjects, betwixt Parents
and Children, 'twixt Neighbor and Neighbor, 'twixt a Man and his Wife, 'twixt
a Man and Himself, 'twixt the Flesh and the Heart.
Wherefore good Master Stand-fast, be as your name is, and when you have
done all, stand.
At this Discourse there was among the Pilgrims a mixture of Joy and
Trembling, but at length they brake out, and sang,
What danger is the Pilgrim in,
How many are his Foes,
How many ways there are to sin,
No living mortal knows.
Some of the Ditch shy are, yet can
Lie tumbling on the Mire;
Some tho' they shun the Frying-pan,
Do leap into the Fire.
After this I beheld until they were come unto the Land of Beulah, where
the Sun shineth Night and Day. Here, because they was weary, they betook
themselves a while to rest. And because this Country was common for Pilgrims,
and because the Orchards and Vineyards that were here belonged to the King of
the Coelestial Country, therefore they were licensed to make bold with any of
his things. But a little while soon refreshed them here; for the Bells did so
ring, and the Trumpets continually sound so melodiously, that they could not
sleep; and yet they received as much refreshing as if they had slept their
sleep never so soundly. Here also all the noise of them that walked the
Streets, was, More Pilgrims are come to Town. And another would answer,
saying, And so many went over the Water, and were let in at the Golden Gates
to-day. They would cry again, There is now a Legion of Shining Ones just
come to Town, by which we know that there are more Pilgrims upon the road, for
here they come to wait for them, and to comfort them after all their Sorrow.
Then the Pilgrims got up and walked to and fro; but how were their Ears now
filled with Heavenly Noises, and their eyes delighted with Coelestial Visions!
In this Land they heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing, smelt nothing,
tasted nothing, that was offensive to their Stomach or Mind; only when they
tasted of the Water of the River over which they were to go, they thought that
tasted a little bitterish to the Palate, but it proved sweeter when 'twas
In this place there was a Record kept of the names of them that had been
Pilgrims of old, and a History of all the famous Acts that they had done. It
was here also much discoursed how the River to some had had its flowings, and
what ebbings it has had while others have gone over. It has been in a manner
dry for some, while it has overflowed its banks for others.
In this place the Children of the Town would go into the King's Gardens
and gather Nosegays for the Pilgrims, and bring them to them with much
affection. Here also grew Camphire with Spikenard and Saffron Calamus and
Cinnamon, with all its Trees of Frankincense Myrrh and Aloes, with all chief
Spices. With these the Pilgrim's Chambers were perfumed while they stayed
here, and with these were their Bodies anointed, to prepare them to go over
the River when the time appointed was come.
Now while they lay here and waited for the good hour, there was a noise
in the Town that there was a Post come from the Coelestial City, with matter
of great importance to one Christiana the Wife of Christian the Pilgrim. So
enquiry was made for her, and the house was found out where she was. So the
Post presented her with a Letter, the contents whereof was, Hail, good Woman,
I bring thee Tidings that the Master calleth for thee, and expecteth that thou
shouldest stand in his presence in Cloaths of Immortality, within this ten
When he had read this Letter to her, he gave her therewith a sure token
that he was a true Messenger, and was come to bid her make haste to be gone.
The token was an Arrow with a point sharpened with Love, let easily into her
heart, which by degrees wrought so effectually with her, that at the time
appointed she must be gone.
When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that she was the first of
this Company that was to go over, she called for Mr Great-heart her Guide,
and told him how matters were. So he told her he was heartily glad of the
News, and could have been glad had the Post come for him. Then she bid that he
should give advice how all things should be prepared for her Journey. So he
told her, saying, Thus and thus it must be, and we that survive will accompany
you to the River-side.
Then she called for her Children, and gave them her Blessing, and told
them that she yet read with comfort the Mark that was set in their Foreheads,
and was glad to see them with her there, and that they had kept their Garments
so white. Lastly, she bequeathed to the Poor that little she had, and
commanded her Sons and her Daughters to be ready against the Messenger should
come for them.
When she had spoken these words to her Guide and to her Children, she
called for Mr Valiant-for-truth, and said unto him, Sir, you have in all
places shewed yourself true-hearted, be faithful unto Death, and my King
will give you a Crown of Life. I would also entreat you to have an eye to my
Children, and if at any time you see them faint, speak comfortably to them.
For my Daughters, my Sons' Wives, they have been faithful, and a fulfilling of
the Promise upon them will be their end. But she gave Mr Stand-fast a Ring.
Then she called for old Mr Honest, and said of him, Behold an Israelite
indeed, in whom is no Guile. Then said he, I wish you a fair day when you set
out for Mount Zion, and shall be glad to see that you go over the River dry -
shod. But she answered, Come wet, come dry, I long to be gone, for however the
Weather is in my Journey, I shall have time enough when I come there to sit
down and rest me and dry me.
Then came in that good man Mr Ready-to-halt to see her. So she said
to him, Thy Travel hither has been with difficulty, but that will make thy
Rest the sweeter. But watch and be ready, for at an hour when you think not,
the Messenger may come.
After him came in Mr Dispondency and his Daughter Much-afraid, to whom
she said, You ought with thankfulness for ever to remember your Deliverance
from the hands of Giant Despair and out of Doubting Castle. The effect of that
Mercy is, that you are brought with safety hither. Be ye watchful and cast
away Fear, be sober and hope to the end.
Then she said to Mr Feeble-mind, Thou wast delivered from the mouth of
Giant Slay-good, that thou mightest live in the Light of the Living for
ever, and see thy King with comfort. Only I advise thee to repent thee of
thine aptness to fear and doubt of his goodness before he sends for thee, lest
thou shouldest when he comes, be forced to stand before him for that fault
Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. So the Road was full of
People to see her take her Journey. But behold all toe Banks beyond the River
were full of Horses and Chariots, which were come down from above to accompany
her to the City Gate. So she came forth and entered the River, with a beckon
of Farewell to those that followed her to the River-side. The last word she
was heard to say here was, I come Lord, to be with thee and bless thee.
So her Children and Friends returned to their place, for that those that
waited for Christiana had carried her out of their sight. So she went and
called, and entered in at the Gate with all the Ceremonies of Joy that her
Husband Christian had done before her.
At her departure her Children wept, but Mr Greatheart and Mr Valiant
played upon the well-tuned Cymbal and Harp for Joy. So all departed to their
In process of time there came a Post to the Town again, and his business
was with Mr. Ready-to-halt. So he enquired him out, and said to him, I am
come to thee in the name of him whom thou hast loved and followed, tho' upon
Crutches; and my Message is to tell thee that he expects thee at his Table to
sup with him in his Kingdom the next day after Easter, wherefore prepare
thyself for this Journey.
Then he also gave him a Token that he was a true Messenger, saying, I
have broken thy golden bowl, and loosed thy silver cord.
After this Mr Ready-to-halt called for his fellow Pilgrims, and told
them, saying, I am sent for, and God shall surely visit you also. So he
desired Mr Valiant to make his Will. And because he had nothing to bequeath to
them that should survive him but his Crutches and his good Wishes, therefore
thus he said, These Crutches I bequeath to my Son that shall tread in my
steps, with a hundred warm wishes that he may prove better than I have done.
Then he thanked Mr Great-heart for his Conduct and Kindness, and so
addressed himself to his Journey. When he came at the Brink of the River he
said, Now I shall have no more need of these Crutches, since yonder are
Chariots and Horses for me to ride on. The last words he was heard to say was,
Welcome Life. So he went his way.
After this Mr Feeble-mind had Tidings brought him that the Post sounded
his Horn at his Chamber-door. Then he came in and told him, saying, I am
come to tell thee that thy Master has need of thee, and that in very little
time thou must behold his Face in Brightness. And take this as a Token of the
Truth of my Message, Those that look out at the Windows shall be darkened.
Then Mr Feeble-mind called for his Friends, and told them what Errand
had been brought unto him, and what Token he had received of the Truth of the
Message. Then he said, Since I have nothing to bequeath to any, to what
purpose should I make a Will? As for my feeble mind, that I will leave behind
me, for that I have no need of that in the place whither I go. Nor is it worth
bestowing upon the poorest Pilgrim; wherefore when I am gone, I desire that
you, Mr Valiant, would bury it in a Dunghill. This done, and the day being
come in which he was to depart, he entered the River as the rest. His last
words were, Hold out Faith and Patience. So he went over to the other side.
When days had many of them passed away, Mr. Dispondency was sent for. For
a Post was come, and brought this Message to him, Trembling man, these are to
summon thee to be ready with thy King by the next Lord's day, to shout for Joy
for thy Deliverance from all thy Doubtings.
And said the Messenger, That my Message is true take this for a Proof; so
he gave him The Grasshopper to be a Burden unto him. Now Mr Dispondency's
Daughter whose name was Much-afraid said when she heard what was done, that
she would go with her Father. Then Mr Dispondency said to his Friends, Myself
and my Daughter, you know what we have been, and how troublesomely we have
behaved ourselves in every Company. My Will and my Daughter's is, that our
Disponds and slavish Fears be by no man ever received from the day of our
Departure for ever, for I know that after my Death they will offer themselves
to others. For to be plain with you, they are Ghosts, the which we entertained
when we first began to be Pilgrims, and could never shake them off after; and
they will walk about and seek entertainment of the Pilgrims, but for our sakes
shut ye the doors upon them.
When the time was come for them to depart, they went to the Brink of the
River. The last words of Mr Dispondency were, Farewell Night, welcome Day. His
Daughter went through the River singing, but none could understand what she
Then it came to pass a while after, that there was a Post in the town
that enquired for Mr Honest. So he came to his house where he was, and
delivered to his hand these lines, Thou art commanded to be ready against this
day seven-night to present thyself before thy Lord at his Father's house.
And for a Token that my Message is true, All thy Daughters of Musick shall be
brought low. Then Mr Honest called for his Friends, and said unto them, I die,
but shall make no Will. As for my Honesty, it shall go with me; let him that
comes after be told of this. When the day that he was to be gone was come, he
addressed himself to go over the River. Now the River at that time overflowed
the Banks in some places, but Mr Honest in his lifetime had spoken to one Good
- conscience to meet him there, the which he also did, and lent him his hand,
and so helped him over. The last words of Mr Honest were, Grace reigns. So he
left the World.
After this it was noised abroad that Mr Valiant-for-truth was taken
with a Summons by the same Post as the other, and had this for a Token that
the Summons was true, That his Pitcher was broken at the Fountain. When he
understood it, he called for his Friends, and told them of it. Then said he, I
am going to my Fathers, and tho' with great difficulty I am got hither, yet
now I do not repent me of all the Trouble I have been at to arrive where I am.
My Sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my Pilgrimage, and my Courage
and Skill to him that can get it. My Marks and Scars I carry with me, to be a
witness for me that I have fought his Battles who now will be my Rewarder.
When the day that he must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the
Riverside, into which as he went he said, Death, where is thy Sting? And as he
went down deeper he said, Grave, where is thy Victory? So he passed over, and
all the Trumpets sounded for him on the other side.
Then there came forth a Summons for Mr Stand-fast, (This Mr Stand -
fast was he that the rest of the Pilgrims found upon his Knees in the
Inchanted Ground) for the Post brought it him open in his hands. The contents
whereof, were, that he must prepare for a Change of Life, for his Master was
not willing that he should be so far from him any longer. At this Mr. Stand -
fast was put into a muse. Nay, said the Messenger, you need not doubt of the
truth of my Message, for here is a Token of the Truth thereof, Thy Wheel is
broken at the Cistern. Then he called to him Mr Great-heart who was their
Guide, and said, unto him, Sir, altho' it was not my hap to be much in your
good Company in the days of my Pilgrimage, yet since the time I knew you, you
have been profitable to me. When I came from home, I left behind me a Wife and
five small Children, let me entreat you at your return, (for I know that you
will go and return to your Master's house, in hopes that you may yet be a
Conductor to more of the holy Pilgrims) that you send to my Family, and let
them be acquainted with all that hath and shall happen unto me. Tell them
moreover of my happy Arrival to this place, and of the present late blessed
condition that I am in. Tell them also of Christian and Christiana his Wife,
and how she and her Children came after her Husband. Tell them also of what a
happy end she made, and whither she is gone. I have little or nothing to send
to my Family, except it be Prayers and Tears for them; of which it will
suffice if thou acquaint them, if peradventure they may prevail.
When Mr. Stand-fast had thus set things in order, and the time being
come for him to haste him away, he also went down to the River. Now there was
a great Calm at that time in the River; wherefore Mr Stand-fast, when he was
about half-way in, he stood awhile, and talked to his Companions that had
waited upon him thither. And he said,
This River has been a Terror to many, yea, the thoughts of it also have
often frighted me. But now methinks I stand easy, my Foot is fixed upon that
upon which the Feet of the Priests that bare the Ark of the Covenant stood,
while Israel went over this Jordan. The Waters indeed are to the Palate bitter
and to the Stomach cold, yet the thoughts of what I am going to and of the
Conduct that waits for me on the other side, doth lie as a glowing Coal at my
I see myself now at the end of my Journey, my toilsome days are ended. I
am going now to see that Head that was crowned with Thorns, and that Face that
was spit upon for me.
I have formerly lived by Hear-say and Faith, but now I go where I shall
live by sight, and shall be with him in whose Company I delight myself.
I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of, and wherever I have seen the
print of his Shoe in the Earth, there I have coveted to set my Foot too.
His Name has been to me as a Civit-box, yea, sweeter than all Perfumes.
His Voice to me has been most sweet, and his Countenance I have more desired
than they that have most desired the Light of the Sun. His Word I did use to
gather for my Food, and for Antidotes against my Faintings. He has held me,
and I have kept me from mine iniquities, yea, my Steps hath he strengthened in
Now while he was thus in Discourse, his Countenance changed, his strong
man bowed under him, and after he had said, Take me, for I come unto thee, he
ceased to be seen of them.
But glorious it was to see how the open Region was filled with Horses and
Chariots, with Trumpeters and Pipers, with Singers and Players on stringed
Instruments, to welcome the Pilgrims as they went up, and followed one another
in at the beautiful Gate of the City.
As for Christian's Children, the four Boys that Christiana brought with
her, with their Wives and Children, I did not stay where I was till they were
gone over. Also since I came away, I heard one say that they were yet alive,
and so would be for the Increase of the Church in that place where they were
for a time.
Shall it be my Lot to go that way again, I may give those that desire it
an account of what I here am silent about; mean-time I bid my Reader Adieu.
The Author's Vindication Of His Pilgrim, Found At The End Of His "Holy War"
Some say the Pilgrim's Progress is not mine,
Insinuating as if I would shine
In name and fame by the worth of another,
Like some made rich by robbing of their Brother.
Or that so fond I am of being Sire,
I'll father Bastards; or if need require,
I'll tell a lye in print to get applause.
I scorn it: John such dirt-heap never was,
Since God converted him. Let this suffice
To show why I my Pilgrim patronize.
It came from mine own heart, so to my head,
And thence into my fingers trickled;
Then to my pen, from whence immediately
On paper I did dribble it daintily.
Manner and matter too was all mine own,
Nor was it unto any mortal known,
Till I had done it. Nor did any then
By books, by wits, by tongues, or hand, or pen,
Add five words to it, or write half a line
Thereof: the whole and every whit is mine.
Also, for this thine eye is now upon,
The matter in this manner came from none
But the same heart and head, fingers and pen,
As did the other. Witness all good men;
For none in all the world, without a lye,
Can say that this is mine, excepting I.
I write not this of any ostentation,
Nor' cause I seek of men their commendation;
I do it to keep them from such surmise,
As tempt them will my name to scandalize.
Witness my name, if anagram'd to thee,
The letters make, Nu hony in a B.