Works of John Bunyan Volume III Part 29

Some things are of that nature, as to make One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache.

When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep, He did at the same time both kiss and weep.

Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head, That doth but show how wisdom's covered With its own mantles, and to stir the mind To a search after what it fain would find.

Things that seem to be hid in words obscure, Do but the G.o.dly mind the more allure To study what those sayings should contain, That speak to us in such a cloudy strain.

I also know a dark similitude Will on the fancy more itself intrude, And will stick faster in the heart and head, Than things from similes not borrowed.

Wherefore, my book, let no discouragement Hinder thy travels. Behold, thou art sent To friends, not foes; to friends that will give place To thee, thy Pilgrims, and thy words embrace.

Besides, what my first Pilgrim left conceal'd Thou, my brave second Pilgrim, hast reveal'd; What CHRISTIAN left lock'd up, and went his way, Sweet CHRISTIANA opens with her key.[5]

OBJECTION 4.

But some love not the method of your first; Romance they count it, throw't away as dust, If I should meet with such, what should I say?

Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay?

ANSWER.

My CHRISTIANA, if with such thou meet, By all means, in all loving-wise, them greet; Render them not reviling for revile; But if they frown, I prithee on them smile; Perhaps 'tis nature, or some ill report, Has made them thus despise, or thus retort.

Some love no cheese, some love no fish, and some Love not their friends, nor their own house or home; Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl, More than they love a cuckoo, or an owl; Leave such, my CHRISTIANA, to their choice, And seek those who to find thee will rejoice; By no means strive, but in humble-wise, Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise.

Go, then, my little book, and show to all That entertain, and bid thee welcome shall, What thou shalt keep close, shut up from the rest, And wish what thou shalt show them may be blest To them for good, may make them choose to be Pilgrims better by far than thee or me.

Go, then, I say, tell all men who thou art; Say, I am CHRISTIANA, and my part Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what It is for men to take a Pilgrims lot.

Go also, tell them who and what they be, That now do go on pilgrimage with thee; Say, Here's my neighbour, Mercy, she is one That has long time with me a Pilgrim gone.

Come, see her in her virgin race, and learn 'Twixt idle ones and Pilgrims to discern.

Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize The world which is to come, in any wise.

When little tripping maidens follow G.o.d, And leave old doting sinners to His rod; 'Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried, Hosanna! to whom old ones did deride.

Next, tell them of old Honest, who you found With his white hairs, treading the Pilgrim's ground.

Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was, How after his good Lord he bare his cross.

Perhaps with some gray head this may prevail With Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail.

Tell them also, how Master Fearing went On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent In solitariness, with fears and cries; And how, at last, he won the joyful prize.

He was a good man, though much down in spirit, He is a good man, and doth life inherit.

Tell them of Master Feeble-mind also, Who, not before, but still behind would go.

Show them also, how he had like been slain, And how one Great-heart did his life regain.

This man was true of heart, though weak in grace, One might true G.o.dliness read in his face.

Then tell them of Master Ready-to-halt, A man with crutches, but much without fault; Tell them how Master Feeble-mind and he Did love, and in opinions much agree.

And let all know, though weakness was their chance, Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance.

Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-truth, That man of courage, though a very youth.

Tell everyone his spirit was so stout, No man could ever make him face about; And how Great-heart and he could not forbear, But put down Doubting Castle, slay Despair.

Overlook not Master Despondency, Nor Much-afraid, his daughter, though they lie Under such mantles, as may make them look (With some) as if their G.o.d had them forsook.

They softly went, but sure, and at the end, Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their friend.

When thou hast told the world of all these things, Then turn about, my book, and touch these strings, Which, if but touch'd, will such music make, They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake.

These riddles that lie couch'd within thy breast, Freely propound, expound; and for the rest Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain.

Now may this little book a blessing be To those who love this little book and me; And may its buyer have no cause to say, His money is but lost or thrown away; Yea, may this Second Pilgrim yield that fruit, As may with each good Pilgrim's fancy suit; And may it persuade some that go astray, To turn their feet and heart to the right way, Is the hearty prayer of The Author, JOHN BUNYAN.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS;

IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM.

THE SECOND PART.

COURTEOUS COMPANIONS,

SOME time since, to tell you my dream that I had of Christian the Pilgrim, and of his dangerous journey towards the Celestial Country, was pleasant to me, and profitable to you. I told you then, also, what I saw concerning his wife and children, and how unwilling they were to go with him on pilgrimage, insomuch that he was forced to go on his progress without them; for he durst not run the danger of that destruction which he feared would come by staying with them in the City of Destruction. Wherefore, as I then showed you, he left them and departed.[6]

Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of business, that I have been much hindered and kept back from my wonted travels into those parts whence he went, and so could not, till now, obtain an opportunity to make further inquiry after whom he left behind, that I might give you an account of them.[7] But having had some concerns that way of late, I went down again thitherward. Now, having taken up my lodgings in a wood, about a mile off the place, as I slept, I dreamed again.[8]

And as I was in my dream, behold, an aged gentleman came by where I lay; and because he was to go some part of the way that I was travelling, methought I got up and went with him. So as we walked, and as travelers usually do, I was as if we fell into discourse, and our talk happened to be about Christian and his travels; for thus I began with the old man:

Sir, said I, what town is that there below, that lieth on the left hand of our way?

Then said Mr. Sagacity (for that was his name), It is the City of Destruction, a populous place, but possessed with a very ill-conditioned and idle sort of people.

I thought that was that city, quoth I; I went once myself through that town, and, therefore, know that this report you give of it is true.

SAG. Too true; I wish I could speak truth in speaking better of them that dwell therein.

Well, Sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a well-meaning man; and so one that takes pleasure to hear and tell of that which is good. Pray, did you never hear what happened to a man some time ago in this town, whose name was Christian, that went on pilgrimage up towards the higher regions?

SAG. Hear of him! Aye, and I also heard of the molestations, troubles, wars, captivities, cries, groans, frights, and fears that he met with and had in his journey; besides, I must tell you, all our country rings of him. There are but few houses that have heard of him and his doings but have sought after and got the records of his pilgrimage; yea, I think I may say that that his hazardous journey, has got a many well-wishers to his ways; for though, when he was here, he was fool in every man's mouth, yet, now he is gone, he is highly commended of all. For, it is said, he lives bravely where he is; yea, many of them that are resolved never to run his hazards, yet have their mouths water at his gains.[9]

They may, quoth I, well think, if they think anything that is true, that he liveth well where he is; for he now lives at and in the Fountain of Life, and has what he has without labour and sorrow, for there is no grief mixed therewith. [But, pray, what talk have the people about him?][10]

SAG. Talk! the people talk strangely about him; some say that he now walks in white (Rev. 3:4; 6:11); that he has a chain of gold about his neck; that he has a crown of gold, beset with pearls, upon his head. Others say that the s.h.i.+ning Ones, that sometimes showed themselves to him in his journey, are become his companions, and that he is as familiar with them in the place where he is as here one neighbour is with another. Besides, it is confidently affirmed concerning him, that the King of the place where he is has bestowed upon him already a very rich and pleasant dwelling at court (Zech. 3:7); and that he every day eateth (Luke 14:15), and drinketh, and walketh, and talketh with Him; and receiveth of the smiles and favours of Him that is Judge of all there. Moreover, it is expected of some, that his Prince, the Lord of that country, will shortly come into these parts, and will know the reason, if they can give any, why his neighbours set so little by him, and had him so much in derision, when they perceived that he would be a pilgrim (Jude 14, 15). For, they say, that now he is so in the affections of his Prince, and that his Sovereign is so much concerned with the indignities that were cast upon Christian, when he became a pilgrim, that He will look upon all as if done unto Himself;[11] and no marvel, for it was for the love that he had to his Prince that he ventured as he did[12] (Luke 10:16).

I dare say, quoth I, I am glad on it; I am glad for the poor man's sake, for that he now has rest from his labour (Rev. 14:13); and for that he now reapeth the benefit of his tears with joy (Psa.

126:5, 6); and for that he has got beyond the gunshot of his enemies, and is out of the reach of them that hate him. I also am glad, for that a rumour of these things is noised abroad in this country; who can tell but that it may work some good effect on some that are left behind? But, pray Sir, while it is fresh in my mind, do you hear anything of his wife and children? Poor hearts!

I wonder in my mind what they do.[13]

SAG. Who! Christiana and her sons? They are like to do as well as did Christian himself; for though they all played the fool at the first, and would by no means be persuaded by either the tears or entreaties of Christian, yet second thoughts have wrought wonderfully with them; so they have packed up, and are also gone after him.[14]

Better and better, quoth I. But what! wife and children, and all?

SAG. It is true; I can give you an account of the matter, for I was upon the spot at the instant, and was thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair.

Then, said I, a man, it seems, may report it for a truth? SAG.

You need not fear to affirm it; I mean that they are all gone on pilgrimage, both the good woman and her four boys. And being (we are, as I perceive) going some considerable way together, I will give you an account of the whole of the matter.

This Christiana (for that was her name from the day that she, with her children, betook themselves to a pilgrim's life), after her husband was gone over the river, and she could hear of him no more, her thoughts began to work in her mind. First, for that she had lost her husband, and for that the loving bond of that relation was utterly broken betwixt them. For you know, said he to me, nature can do no less but entertain the living with many a heavy cogitation in the remembrance of the loss of loving relations. This, therefore, of her husband did cost her many a tear. But this was not all; for Christiana did also begin to consider with herself, whether her unbecoming behaviour towards her husband was not one cause that she saw him no more; and that in such sort he was taken away from her. And upon this, came into her mind, by swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, and unG.o.dly carriages to her dear friend; which also clogged her conscience, and did load her with guilt.

She was, moreover, much broken with calling to remembrance the restless groans, brinish tears, and self-bemoanings of her husband, and how she did harden her heart against all his entreaties, and loving persuasions, of her and her sons, to go with him; yea, there was not anything that Christian either said to her or did before her all the while that his burden did hang on his back, but it returned upon her like a flash of lightning, and rent the caul of her heart in sunder. Specially that bitter outcry of his, 'What shall I do to be saved?' did ring in her ears most dolefully.[15]