As I walked through the wilderness of this world,

I lighted on a certain place where was a den,[1] and laid me down in that place to sleep;

and as I slept,

I dreamed a dream.

I dreamed,

and behold,

I saw a man clothed with rags,

standing in a certain place,

with his face from his own house,

a book in his hand,

and a great burden upon his back.

I looked,

and saw him open the book,

and read therein;

and as he read,

he wept and trembled;


not being able longer to contain,

he brake out with a lamentable cry,


"What shall I do?"

[1] Bedford jail,

in which Bunyan was twelve years a prisoner.

In this plight,


he went home,

and restrained himself as long as he could,

that his wife and children should not perceive his distress;

but he could not be silent long,

because that his trouble increased.

Wherefore at length he brake his mind to his wife and children;

and thus he began to talk to them:

"Oh my dear wife,"

said he,

"and you my sweet children,


your dear friend,

am in myself undone by reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me;


I am told to a certainty that this our city will be burned with fire from heaven;

in which fearful overthrow,

both myself,

with thee,

my wife,

and you,

my sweet babes,

shall miserably come to ruin,

except some way of escape can be found whereby we may be delivered."

At this all his family were sore amazed;

not for that they believed that what he had said to them was true,

but because they thought that some frenzy or madness had got into his head;


it drawing towards night,

and they hoping that sleep might settle his brain,

with all haste they got him to bed.

But the night was as troublesome to him as the day;


instead of sleeping,

he spent it in sighs and tears.

So when the morning was come,

they would know how he did.

He told them,

Worse and worse: he also set to talking to them again;

but they began to be hardened.

They also thought to drive away his madness by harsh and surly treatment of him: sometimes they would ridicule,

sometimes they would chide,

and sometimes they would quite neglect him.

Wherefore he began to retire himself to his chamber,

to pray for and pity them,

and also to sorrow over his own misery;

he would also walk solitary in the fields,

sometimes reading,

and sometimes praying;

and thus for some days he spent his time.



I saw,

upon a time,

when he was walking in the fields,

that he was (as he was wont) reading in his book,

and greatly distressed in his mind;

and as he read,

he burst out as he had done before,


"What shall I do to be saved?"

I saw also that he looked this way and that way,

as if he would run;

yet he stood still,

because (as I perceived) he could not tell which way to go.

I looked then,

and saw a man named Evangelist coming to him,

who asked,

"Wherefore dost thou cry?"

[Illustration: Evangelist Points to Wicket-Gate.

Page 15]

He answered,


I read in the book in my hand,

that I am condemned to die,

and after that to come to judgment;

and I find that I am not willing to do the first,

nor able to do the second."

Then said Evangelist,

"Why not willing to die,

since this life is troubled with so many evils?"

The man answered,

"Because I fear that this burden that is upon my back will sink me lower than the grave,

and I shall fall into Tophet.[2] And,


if I be not fit to go to prison,

I am not fit to go to judgment,

and from thence to death;

and the thoughts of these things make me cry."

[2] Tophet here means hell.

Then said Evangelist,

"If this be thy condition,

why standest thou still?"

He answered,

"Because I know not whither to go."

Then he gave him a parchment roll,

and there was written within,

"Flee from the wrath to come."

The man,


read it,

and looking upon Evangelist very carefully,


"Whither must I fly?"

Then said Evangelist (pointing with his finger over a very wide field),

"Do you see yonder wicket-gate?"

The man said,


Then said the other,

"Do you see yonder shining light?"

He said,

"I think I do."

Then said Evangelist,

"Keep that light in your eye,

and go up directly thereto;

so shalt thou see the gate;

at which,

when thou knockest,

it shall be told thee what thou shalt do."

So I saw in my dream that the man began to run.


he had not run far from his own door,

when his wife and children perceiving it,

began to cry after him to return;

but the man put his fingers in his ears,

and ran on,




eternal life!"

So he looked not behind him,

but fled towards the middle of the plain.


The neighbors also came out to see him run;

and as he ran,

some mocked,

others threatened,

and some cried after him to return;

and among those that did so there were two that resolved to fetch him back by force.

The name of the one was Obstinate,

and the name of the other Pliable.


by this time the man was got a good distance from them;



they were resolved to pursue him,

which they did,

and in a little time they overtook him.

Then said the man,


wherefore are ye come?"

They said,

"To persuade you to go back with us."

But he said,

"That can by no means be: you dwell,"

said he,

"in the City of Destruction,

the place also where I was born: I see it to be so;


dying there,

sooner or later,

you will sink lower than the grave,

into a place that burns with fire and brimstone.

Be content,

good neighbors,

and go along with me."

OBST. "What!"

said Obstinate,

"and leave our friends and comforts behind us?"



said Christian (for that was his name),

"because that all which you forsake is not worthy to be compared with a little of that I am seeking to enjoy;

and if you would go along with me,

and hold it,

you shall fare as I myself;

for there,

where I go,

is enough and to spare.

Come away,

and prove my words."

OBST. What are the things you seek,

since you leave all the world to find them?


I seek a place that can never be destroyed,

one that is pure,

and that fadeth not away,

and it is laid up in heaven,

and safe there,

to be given,

at the time appointed,

to them that seek it with all their heart.

Read it so,

if you will,

in my book.

OBST. "Tush!"

said Obstinate,

"away with your book;

will you go back with us or no?"



not I,"

said the other,

"because I have put my hand to the plough."


OBST. Come,


neighbor Pliable,

let us turn again,

and go home without him: there is a company of these crazy-headed fools,


when they take a fancy by the end,

are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render a reason.


Then said Pliable,

"Don't revile;

if what the good Christian says is true,

the things he looks after are better than ours;

my heart inclines to go with my neighbor."

OBST. What!

more fools still?

Be ruled by me,

and go back;

who knows whither such a brain-sick fellow will lead you?

Go back,

go back,

and be wise.



but do thou come with thy neighbor Pliable;

there are such things to be had which I spoke of,

and many more glories besides.

If you believe not me,

read here in this book;

and for the truth of what is told therein,


all is made by the blood of Him that made it.



neighbor Obstinate,"

said Pliable,

"I begin to come to a point;

I intend to go along with this good man,

and to cast in my lot with him.


my good companion,

do you know the way to this desired place?"


I am directed by a man,

whose name is Evangelist,

to speed me to a little gate that is before us,

where we shall receive directions about the way.




good neighbor,

let us be going.

Then they went both together.

"And I will go back to my place,"

said Obstinate;

"I will be no companion of such misled,

fantastical fellows."


I saw in my dream,


when Obstinate was gone back,

Christian and Pliable went talking over the plain;

and thus they began:



neighbor Pliable,

how do you do?

I am glad you are persuaded to go along with me.

Had even Obstinate himself but felt what I have felt of the powers and terrors of what is yet unseen,

he would not thus lightly have given us the back.



neighbor Christian,

since there are none but us two here,

tell me now further what the things are,

and how to be enjoyed,

whither we are going.


I can better understand them with my mind than speak of them with my tongue;

but yet,

since you are desirous to know,

I will read of them in my book.


And do you think that the words of your book are certainly true?




for it was made by Him that cannot lie.


Well said;

what things are they?


There is an endless kingdom to be enjoyed,

and everlasting life to be given us,

that we may live in that kingdom forever.


Well said;

and what else?


There are crowns of glory to be given us,

and garments that will make us shine like the sun in the sky.


This is very pleasant;

and what else?


There shall be no more crying,

nor sorrow;

for he that is owner of the place will wipe all tears from our eyes.


And what company shall we have there?


There we shall be with seraphims and cherubims,

creatures that shall dazzle your eyes to look on them.

There also you shall meet with thousands and ten thousands that have gone before us to that place;

none of them are hurtful,

but all loving and holy;

every one walking in the sight of God,

and standing in His presence with acceptance for ever.

In a word,

there we shall see the elders with their golden crowns;

there we shall see the holy women with their golden harps;

there we shall see men that by the world were cut in pieces,

burnt in flames,

eaten of beasts,

drowned in the seas,

for the love they bear to the Lord of the place,

all well,

and clothed with everlasting life as with a garment.


The hearing of this is enough to delight one's heart.

But are these things to be enjoyed?

How shall we get to be sharers thereof?


The Lord,

the Governor of the country,

hath written that in this book;

the substance of which is,

If we be truly willing to have it,

He will bestow it upon us freely.



my good companion,

glad am I to hear of these things;

come on,

let us mend our pace.


I cannot go so fast as I would,

by reason of this burden that is on my back.



I saw in my dream,

that just as they had ended this talk,

they drew nigh to a very miry slough or swamp,

that was in the midst of the plain;

and they,

being heedless,

did both fall suddenly into the bog.

The name of the slough was Despond.



they wallowed for a time,

being grievously bedaubed with the dirt;

and Christian,

because of the burden that was on his back,

began to sink into the mire.


Then said Pliable,


neighbor Christian where are you now?"



said Christian,

"I do not know."


At this Pliable began to be offended,

and angrily said to his fellow,

"Is this the happiness you have told me all this while of?

If we have such ill speed at our first setting out,

what may we expect between this and our journey's end?

May I get out again with my life,

you shall possess the brave country alone for me."

And with that,

he gave a desperate struggle or two,

and got out of the mire on that side of the swamp which was next to his own house: so away he went,

and Christian saw him no more.

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond alone;

but still he tried to struggle to that side of the slough which was farthest from his own house,

and next to the wicket-gate;

the which,

he did but could not get out because of the burden that was upon his back;

but I beheld in my dream,

that a man came to him whose name was Help,

and asked him,

What he did there?



said Christian,

"I was bid to go this way by a man called Evangelist,

who directed me also to yonder gate,

that I might escape the wrath to come;

and as I was going there I fell in here."


But why did you not look for the steps?


Fear followed me so hard,

that I fled the next way and fell in.


Then said he,

"Give me thine hand."

So he gave him his hand,

and he drew him out,

and set him upon solid ground,

and bade him go on his way.

Then I stepped to him that plucked him out,

and said,



since over this place is the way from the City of Destruction to yonder gate,

is it that this place is not mended,

that poor travelers might go thither with more safety?"

And he said unto me,

"This miry slough is such a place as cannot be mended;

it is the hollow whither the scum and filth that go with the feeling of sin,

do continually run,

and therefore it is called the Slough of Despond;

for still,

as the sinner is awakened by his lost condition,

there arise in his soul many fears,

and doubts,

and discouraging alarms,

which all of them get together and settle in this place;

and this is the reason of the badness of the ground.

"It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain so bad.

His laborers also have,

by the direction of His Majesty's surveyors,

been for about these sixteen hundred years employed about this patch of ground,

if perhaps it might have been mended;


and to my knowledge,"

said he,

"here have been swallowed up at least twenty thousand cart-loads,



of wholesome teachings,

that have at all seasons been brought from all places of the King's dominions (and they that can tell say they are the best materials to make good ground of the place),

if so be it might have been mended;

but it is the Slough of Despond still,

and so will be when they have done what they can.


there are,

by the direction of the Lawgiver,

certain good and substantial steps,

placed even through the very midst of this slough;

but at such time as this place doth much spew out its filth,

as it doth against change of weather,

these steps are hardly seen;


if they be,


through the dizziness of their heads,

step aside,

and then they are bemired to purpose,

notwithstanding the steps be there;

but the ground is good when they are got in at the gate."


I saw in my dream,

that by this time Pliable was got home to his house.

So his neighbors came to visit him;

and some of them called him wise man for coming back,

and some called him a fool for risking himself with Christian;

others again did mock at his cowardliness,

saying "Surely since you began to venture,

I would not have been so base to have given out for a few difficulties;"

so Pliable sat sneaking among them.

But at last he got more confidence;

and then they all turned their tales,

and began to abuse poor Christian behind his back.

And thus much concerning Pliable.



as Christian was walking solitary by himself,

he espied one afar off come crossing over the field to meet him;

and their hap was to meet just as they were crossing the way of each other.

The gentleman's name that met him was Mr. Worldly Wiseman: he dwelt in the town of Carnal Policy,

a very great town,

and also hard by from whence Christian came.

This man,


meeting with Christian,

and having heard about him --(for Christian's setting forth from the City of Destruction was much noised abroad,

not only in the town where he dwelt,

but also it began to be the town-talk in some other places) --Mr. Worldly Wiseman therefore,

having some guess of him,

by beholding his laborious going,

by noticing his sighs and groans,

and the like,

began thus to enter into some talk with Christian:


How now,

good fellow!

whither away after this burdened manner?


A burdened manner indeed,

as ever I think poor creature had!

And whereas you ask me,

Whither away?

I tell you,


I am going to yonder wicket-gate before me;

for there,

as I am informed,

I shall be put into a way to be rid of my heavy burden.


Hast thou a wife and children?



but I am so laden with this burden,

that I cannot take that pleasure in them as formerly;

methinks I am as if I had none.


Wilt thou hearken to me,

if I give thee counsel?


If it be _good_,

I will;

for I stand in need of good counsel.


I would advise thee,


that thou with all speed get thyself rid of thy burden;

for thou wilt never be settled in thy mind till then;

nor canst thou enjoy the blessings which God hath bestowed upon thee till then.


That is that which I seek for,

even to be rid of this heavy burden;

but get it off myself I cannot;

nor is there any man in our country that can take it off my shoulders;

therefore am I going this way,

as I told you,

that I may be rid of my burden.


Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden?


A man that appeared to me to be a very great and honorable person;

his name,

as I remember,

is Evangelist.


I curse him for his counsel!

there is not a more dangerous and troublesome way in the world than is that into which he hath directed thee;

and that thou shalt find,

if thou wilt be ruled by his advice.

Thou hast met with something,

as I perceive,


for I see the dirt of the Slough of Despond is upon thee;

but that slough is the beginning of the sorrows that do attend those that go on in that way.

Hear me: I am older than thou: thou art like to meet with,

in the way which thou goest,











in a word,


and what not.

These things are certainly true,

having been proved by the words of many people.

And why should a man so carelessly cast away himself,

by giving heed to a stranger?




this burden upon my back is more terrible to me than all these things which you have mentioned;


methinks I care not what I meet with in the way,

if so be I can also meet with deliverance from my burden.


How camest thou by the burden at first?


By reading this book in my hand.


I thought so.

And it has happened unto thee as unto other weak men,


meddling with things too high for them,

do suddenly fall into thy crazy thoughts,

which thoughts do not only unman men,

as thine I perceive have done thee,

but they run them upon desperate efforts to obtain they know not what.


I know what I would obtain;

it is ease for my heavy burden.


But why wilt thou seek for ease this way,

seeing so many dangers attend it?

Especially since (hadst thou but patience to hear me,) I could direct thee to the getting of what thou desirest,

without the dangers that thou in this way wilt run thyself into.


and the remedy is at hand.


I will add that,

instead of those dangers,

thou shalt meet with much safety,


and content.



I pray,

open this secret to me.



in yonder village (the village is named Morality),

there dwells a gentleman whose name is Legality,

a very wise man,

and a man of very good name,

that has skill to help men off with such burdens as thine is from their shoulders;


to my knowledge he hath done a great deal of good this way;


and besides,

he hath skill to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens.

To him,

as I said,

thou mayest go,

and be helped presently.

His house is not quite a mile from this place;

and if he should not be at home himself,

he hath a pretty young man as his son,

whose name is Civility,

that can do it (to speak on) as well as the old gentleman himself.


I say,

thou mayest be eased of thy burden;

and if thou art not minded to go back to thy former habitation (as indeed I would not wish thee),

thou mayest send for thy wife and children to thee in this village,

where there are houses now standing empty,

one of which thou mayest have at a reasonable rate;

provision is there also cheap and good;

and that which will make thy life the more happy is,

to be sure there thou shalt live by honest neighbors,

in credit and good fashion.

Now was Christian somewhat at a stand;

but presently he concluded,

"If this be true which this gentleman hath said,

my wisest course is to take his advice;"

and with that,

he thus further spake:



which is my way to this honest man's house?


Do you see yonder high hill?



very well.


By that hill you must go,

and the first house you come at is his.


So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality's house for help;



when he was got now hard by the hill,

it seemed so high,

and also that side of it that was next the wayside did hang so much over,

that Christian was afraid to venture farther,

lest the hill should fall on his head;

wherefore there he stood still,

and knew not what to do.

Also his burden now seemed heavier to him than while he was in his way.

There came also flashes of fire out of the hill,

that made Christian afraid that he should be burnt: here,


he sweat and did quake for fear.

And now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsel;

and with that,

he saw Evangelist coming to meet him,

at the sight also of whom he began to blush for shame.

So Evangelist drew nearer and nearer;


coming up to him,

he looked upon him with a severe and dreadful countenance,

and thus began to reason with Christian:


"What dost thou here,


said he;

at which words Christian knew not what to answer;

wherefore at present he stood speechless before him.

Then said Evangelist further,

"Art thou not the man that I found crying,

without the walls of the City of Destruction?"



dear sir,

I am the man.


Did not I direct thee the way to the little wicket-gate?



dear sir,"

said Christian.


How is it,


that thou art so quickly turned aside?

For thou art now out of the way.


I met with a gentleman as soon as I had got over the Slough of Despond,

who persuaded me that I might,

in the village before me,

find a man that could take off my burden.


What was he?


He looked like a gentleman,

and talked much to me,

and got me at last to yield: so I came hither,

but when I beheld this hill,

and how it hangs over the way,

I suddenly made a stand,

lest it should fall on my head.


What said that gentleman to you?



he asked me whither I was going,

and I told him.


And what said he then?


He asked me if I had a family,

and I told him.


said I,

I am so laden with the burden that is on my back,

that I cannot take pleasure in them as formerly.


And what said he then?


He bid me with speed get rid of my burden;

and I told him it was ease that I sought.


said I,

I am therefore going to yonder gate to receive further direction how I may get to the place of deliverance.

So he said that he would show me a better way,

and short,

not so hard as the way,


that you sent me in;

which way,

said he,

will direct you to a gentleman's house that hath skill to take off these burdens.

So I believed him,

and turned out of that way into this,

if haply I might soon be eased of my burden.


when I came to this place,

and beheld things as they are,

I stopped for fear (as I said) of danger;

but I now know not what to do.


Then said Evangelist,

"Stand still a little,

that I may show thee the words of God."

So he stood trembling.

Then said Evangelist,

"God says in his book,

'See that ye refuse not him that speaketh;

for if they escaped not who refused him that spake on earth,

much more shall not we escape,

if we turn away from Him that speaketh from heaven.'

He said,



the righteous man shall live by faith in God,

but if any man draw back,

my soul shall have no pleasure in him.'"

He also did thus apply them:

"Thou art the man that art running into misery;

thou hast begun to reject the counsel of the Most High,

and to draw back thy foot from the way of peace,

even almost to the danger of thy everlasting ruin."

Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead,


"Woe is me,

for I am undone!"

At the sight of which Evangelist caught him by the right hand,


"All manner of sin and evil words shall be forgiven unto men."

"Be not faithless,

but believing."

Then did Christian again a little revive,

and stood up trembling,

as at first,

before Evangelist.

Then Evangelist proceeded,


"Give more earnest heed to the things that I shall tell thee of.

I will now show thee who it was that led thee astray,

and who it was also to whom he sent thee.

That man that met thee is one Worldly Wiseman;

and rightly is he so called;

partly because he seeks only for the things of this world (therefore he always goes to the town of Morality to church),

and partly because he loveth that way best,

for it saveth him from the Cross;

and because he is of this evil temper,

therefore he seeketh to turn you from my way though it is the right way.

"He to whom thou wast sent for ease,

being by name Legality,

is not able to set thee free from thy burden.

No man was as yet ever rid of his burden by him;


nor ever is like to be: ye cannot be set right by any such plan.


Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an enemy,

and Mr. Legality is a cheat;


for his son Civility,

notwithstanding his simpering looks,

he is but a fraud and cannot help thee.

Believe me,

there is nothing in all this noise that thou hast heard of these wicked men,

but a design to rob thee of thy salvation,

by turning thee from the way in which I had set thee."

After this,

Evangelist called aloud to the heavens for proof of what he had said;

and with that there came words and fire out of the mountain under which poor Christian stood,

which made the hair of his flesh stand up.

The words were thus spoken:

"As many as are of the works of the law are under the curse."


Christian looked for nothing but death,

and began to cry out lamentably;

even cursing the time in which he met with Mr. Worldly Wiseman;

still calling himself a thousand fools for listening to his counsel.

He also was greatly ashamed to think that this gentleman's arguments should have the power with him so far as to cause him to forsake the right way.

This done,

he spoke again to Evangelist,

in words and sense as follows:



what think you?

Is there any hope?

May I now go back,

and go up to the wicket-gate?

Shall I not be abandoned for this,

and sent back from thence ashamed?

I am sorry I have hearkened to this man's counsel;

but may my sins be forgiven?


Then said Evangelist to him,

"Thy sin is very great,

for by it thou hast committed two evils;

thou hast forsaken the way that is good,

to tread in forbidden paths.

Yet will the man at the gate receive thee,

for he has good will for men;


said he,

"take heed that thou turn not aside again,

lest thou perish from the way,

when his anger is kindled but a little."


Then did Christian begin to go back to the right road;

and Evangelist,

after he had kissed him,

gave him one smile,

and bid him God speed;

so he went on with haste,

neither spake he to any man by the way;


if any asked him,

would he give them an answer.

He went like one that was all the while treading on forbidden ground,

and could by no means think himself safe,

till again he was got in the way which he had left to follow Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsel: so after a time,

Christian got up to the gate.


over the gate there was written,


and it shall be opened unto you."

He knocked,


more than once or twice,


"May I now enter here?

Will He within Open to sorry me,

though I have been 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 Goodwill,

who asked who was there,

and whence he came,

and what he would have?


Here is a poor burdened sinner.

I come from the City of Destruction,

but am going to Mount Zion,

that I may be set free from the wrath to come;

I would therefore,


since I am told that by this gate is the way thither,


if you are willing to let me in.


"I am willing with all my heart,"

said he;


with that,

he opened the gate.


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,

the Evil One,

is the captain;

from whence both he and they that are with him shoot arrows at those that come up to this gate,

if haply they may die before they can enter in."

Then said Christian,

"I rejoice and tremble."

So when he was got in,

the man of the gate asked him who directed him thither.


Evangelist bid me come hither and knock,

as I did;

and he said that you,


would tell me what I must do.


An open door is set before thee,

and no man can shut it.


Now I begin to reap the benefit of the trouble which I have taken.


But how is it that you came alone?


Because none of my neighbors saw their danger,

as I saw mine.


Did any of them know you were coming?



my wife and children saw me at the first,

and called after me to turn again;

also some of my neighbors stood crying and calling after me to return;

but I put my fingers in my ears,

and so came on my way.


But did none of them follow you,

to persuade you to go back?



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.


But why did he not come through?


We indeed came both together until we came to the Slough of Despond,

into the which we also suddenly fell.

And then was my neighbor Pliable discouraged,

and would not venture farther.


getting out again on the side next his own house,

he told me I should win the brave country alone for him: so he went his way,

and I came mine;

he after Obstinate,

and I to this gate.


Then said Goodwill,


poor man!

is the heavenly glory of so little worth with him,

that he counteth it not worth running the risk of a few difficulties to obtain it?"



said Christian,

"I have said the truth of Pliable;

and if I should also say the truth of myself,

it will appear there is not betterment betwixt him and myself.

'Tis true,

he went on back to his own house;

but I also turned aside to go into the way of death,

being persuaded thereto by the words of one Mr. Worldly Wiseman."



did he light upon you?


he would have had you seek for ease at the hands of Mr. Legality!

They are both of them a very cheat.

But did you take his counsel?



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.


That mountain has been the death of many,

and will be the death of many more;

it is well you escaped being by it dashed in pieces.




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 it 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.



what a favor this is to me,

that yet I am to enter here!


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 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 men of old,


Christ and His apostles,

and it is as straight as a rule can make it: this is the way thou must go.



said Christian,

"are there no turnings nor windings by which a stranger may lose his way?"



there are many ways butt down upon this,

and they are crooked and wide;

but thus thou mayest distinguish the right from the wrong,

the right 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 thy burden,

be content to bear it until thou comest to the place of deliverance;

for there it will fall from thy back of itself."

Then Christian began to gird up his loins,

and to turn again to his journey.

So the other told him that as soon as 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.

[Sidenote: House of the Interpreter]

Then he went on till he came to the house of the Interpreter,

where he knocked over and over.

At last one came to the door,

and asked who was there.



here is a traveler who was bid by a friend of the good man of this house to call here for his benefit;

I would therefore speak with the master of the house.

So he called for the master of the house,


after a little time,

came to Christian,

and asked him what he would have.



said Christian,

"I am a man that am come from the City of Destruction,

and am going to Mount Zion;

and I was told by the man that stands at the gate at the head of this way,


if I called here,

you would show me excellent things,

such as would be helpful to me on my journey."


Then said the Interpreter,

"Come in;

I will show thee that which will be profitable to thee."

So he commanded his man to light the candle,

and bid Christian follow him;

so he led 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 hung up against the wall;

and this was the fashion of it: it had eyes lifted up to heaven,

the best of books in its hand,

the law of truth was written upon its lips,

the world was behind its back;

it stood as if it pleaded with men,

and a crown of gold did hang over its head.


Then said Christian,

"What meaneth this?"


The man whose picture this is,

is one of a thousand.

He can say,

in the words of the apostle Paul,

"Though ye have ten thousand teachers in Christ,

yet have you not many fathers;

for in Christ Jesus I have been your father through the Gospel."

And whereas thou seest him with his eyes lifted up to heaven,

the best of books in his hand,

and the law of truth writ on his lips,

it is to show 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 is cast behind him,

and that a crown hangs over his head;

that is to show thee that,

slighting and despising the things that are in the world,

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.


said the Interpreter,

I have showed 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 chosen to be thy guide,

in all difficult places thou mayest meet with in thy way;

wherefore take good heed to what I have showed 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 parlor,

that was full of dust,

because never swept;

the which after he had looked at it a little while,

the Interpreter called for a man to sweep.


when he began to sweep,

the dust began so abundantly to fly about that Christian had almost therewith been choked.

Then said the Interpreter to a girl that stood by,

"Bring hither water,

and sprinkle the room;"

the which when she had done,

it was swept and cleansed with ease.


Then said Christian,

"What means this?"


The Interpreter answered,

"This parlor is the heart of a man that was never made pure by the sweet grace of the Gospel.

The dust is his sin,

and inward evils 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.


whereas thou sawest that,

as soon as the first began to sweep,

the dust did fly so about that the room could not by him be cleansed,

but that thou wast almost choked therewith;

this is to show 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,

even as it doth discover and forbid it,

for it doth not give power to overcome.


as thou sawest the girl sprinkle the room with water,

upon which it was cleansed with ease;

this is to show thee,

that when the Gospel comes,

in the sweet and gracious power thereof,

to the heart,


I say,

even as thou sawest the maiden 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,



fit for the King of Glory to dwell in."

I saw moreover in my dream,

that the Interpreter took him by the hand,

and led him into a little room where sat two little children,

each one in his own chair.

The name of the eldest was Passion,

and the name of the other Patience.

Passion seemed to be much discontented,

but Patience was very quiet.

The Christian asked,

"What is the reason of the discontent of Passion?"

The Interpreter answered,

"The governor of them would have him stay for his best things till the beginning of next year;

but he will have all now.

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 rejoiced therein,

and withal laughed Patience to scorn.

But I beheld but awhile,

and he had wasted all away,

and had nothing left him but rags.


Then said Christian to the Interpreter,

"Explain this matter more fully to me."


So he said,

"These two lads are pictures: 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 the 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 weight with them than all the words in the Bible of the good of the world to come.


as thou sawest that he had quickly wasted all away,

and had presently left him nothing but rags,

so will it be with all such men at the end of this world."


Then said Christian,

"Now I see that Patience has the best wisdom,

and that upon many accounts.


Because he stays for the best things.


And also because he will have the glory of his when the other has nothing but rags."



you may add another;


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 at 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,


that hath his portion first,

must needs have a time to spend it;

but he that hath his portion last,

must have it lastingly.


Then I see it is not best to covet things that are now,

but to wait for things to come.


You say truth;

"for the things that are seen soon pass away,

but the things that are not seen endure forever."

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 much 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 God that is wrought in the heart: he that casts water upon it to extinguish and put it out,

is the devil;


in that thou seest the fire notwithstanding burn higher and hotter,

thou shalt also see the reason of that."

So then he led him about to the other side of the wall,

where he saw a man with a vessel of oil 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 oil of His grace,

helps 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 keep up the fire;

this is to teach thee,

that it is hard for the tempted to see how this work of grace is kept alive in the soul."

I saw also that the Interpreter took him again by the hand,

and led him into a pleasant place,

where was built 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 clothed 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 ink-horn before him,

to take the name of him that should enter therein;

he saw also that in the doorway stood many men in armor to keep it,

being resolved to do to the men that would enter what hurt and mischief they could.

Now was Christian somewhat in amaze.

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,


"Set down my name,

sir:" the which when he had done,

he saw the man draw his sword,

and put a 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 that,

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 those that walked upon the top of the palace,


"Come in,

come in;

Eternal glory thou shalt win."

So he went in,

and was clothed in such garments as they.

Then Christian smiled,

and said,

"I think verily I know the meaning of this."


said Christian,

"let me go hence."



said the Interpreter,

"until I have showed 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.


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."


What wast thou once?


The man said,

"I was once a fair and flourishing Christian,

both in mine own eyes,

and also in the eyes of others;

I was once,

as I thought,

fair for the Celestial City,

and had even joy at the thoughts that I should get thither."



but what art thou now?


I am now a man of despair,

and am shut up in it,

as in this iron cage.

I cannot get out.


_now_ I cannot!


But how camest thou in this condition?


I left off to watch and be sober.

I gave free reins to sin;

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 has come to me;

I have provoked God to anger,

and He has left me;

I have so hardened my heart that I _cannot_ turn.

Then said Christian to the Interpreter,

"But are there no hopes for such a man as this?"

"Ask him,"

said the Interpreter.


Then said Christian,

"Is there no hope,

but you must be kept in the iron cage of despair?"



none at all.



the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful.


I have crucified Him to myself afresh.

I have despised His person.

I have despised His holiness;

I have counted His blood an unholy thing;

I have shown contempt to the Spirit of mercy.

Therefore I have shut myself out of all the promises of God,

and there now remains to me nothing but threatenings,

dreadful threatenings,

fearful threatenings of certain judgment and fiery anger,

which shall devour me as an enemy.


For what did you bring yourself into this condition?


For the desires,


and gains of this world;

in the enjoyment of which I did then promise myself much delight;

but now every one of those things also bite me,

and gnaw me,

like a burning worm.


But canst thou not now turn again to God?


God no longer invites me to come to Him.

His Word gives me no encouragement to believe;


Himself hath shut me up in this iron cage;

nor can all the men in the world let me out.

O eternity!


how shall I grapple with the misery that I must meet with in eternity?


Then said the Interpreter to Christian,

"Let this man's misery be remembered by thee,

and be an everlasting caution to thee."




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.


is it not time for me to go on my way now?"


Tarry till I show 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;


as he put on his clothing,

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 lightened in most fearful manner,

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 sitting upon a cloud,

attended with the thousands of heaven;

they were all in flaming fire;

also the heavens were in a burning flame.

I heard then a great voice saying,


ye dead,

and come to judgment.'

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 thought 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 that issued out and came before Him,

a certain distance betwixt Him and them,

as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar.

I heard it also called out to them that stood around on the Man that sat on the cloud,

'Gather together the tares,

the chaff,

and stubble,

and cast them into the burning lake.


with that,

the bottomless pit opened,

just whereabout I stood;

out of the mouth of which there came,

in an abundant manner,

smoke and coals of fire,

with hideous noises.

It was also said to the same persons,

'Gather my wheat into the garner.'


with that,

I saw many catched 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 awakened from my sleep."


But what was it that made you so afraid of this sight?


Why I thought that the day of judgment was come,

and that I was not ready for it.

But this affrighted 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,


troubled me;


as I thought,

the judge had always His eye upon me,

showing anger in His countenance.


Then said the Interpreter to Christian,

"Hast thou considered these things?"



and they put me in hope and fear.



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 into the way that leads to the city."

So Christian went on his way,


"Here have I seen things rare and profitable;

Things pleasant,


things to make me stable In what I have begun to take in hand: Then let me think on them,

and understand Wherefore they showed me where;

and let me be Thankful,

O good Interpreter,

to thee."



I saw in my dream that the highway up which Christian was to go was fenced on either side with a wall that was called Salvation.

Up this way,


did burdened Christian run,

but not without great difficulty,

because of the load on his back.

He ran thus till he came to a place somewhat ascending;

and upon that place stood a Cross,

and a little below,

in the bottom,

a tomb.

So I saw in my dream,

that just as Christian came up with the cross,

his burden loosed from off his shoulders,

and fell from off his back,

and began to tumble,

and so continued to do till it came to the mouth of the tomb,

where it fell in,

and I saw it no more.

[Illustration: Christian Before the Cross.

Page 50]

Then was Christian glad and lightsome,

and said with a merry heart,

"He hath given me rest by His sorrow,

and life by His death."

Then he stood still awhile to look and wonder;

for it was very surprising to him that the sight of the cross should thus ease him of his burden.

He looked,


and looked again,

even till the springs that were in his head sent the water down his cheeks.


as he stood looking and weeping,


three Shining Ones came to him,

and saluted him with "Peace be to thee."

So the first said to him,

"Thy sins be forgiven thee;"

the second stripped him of his rags,

and clothed him with a change of garments;

the third also set a mark on his forehead,

and gave him a roll with a seal upon it,

which he bade him look on as he ran,

and that he should give it in at the heavenly gate;

so they went their way.

Then Christian gave three leaps for joy,

and went on,


"Thus far did I come laden with my sin;

Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in,

Till I came hither;

what a place is this!

Must here be the beginning of my bliss?

Must here the burden fall from off my back?

Must here the strings that bound it to me crack?

Blest cross!

blest sepulchre!

blest rather be The Man that was there put to shame for me!"

[Sidenote: SIMPLE,



I saw then in my dream that he went on thus,

even until he came to the bottom,

where he saw,

a little out of the way,

three men fast asleep,

with fetters upon their heels.

The name of one was Simple,

of another Sloth,

and of the third Presumption.



seeing them lie in this case,

went to them,

if perhaps he might awake them,

and cried,

"You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast;

for the deep sea is under you,

a gulf that hath no bottom: awake,


and come away;

be willing,


and I will help you off with your irons."

He also told them,

"If he that goeth about like a roaring lion comes by,

you will certainly become a prey to his teeth."

With that they looked upon him,

and began to reply in this sort: Simple said,

"I see no danger."

Sloth said,

"Yet a little more sleep."

And Presumption said,

"Every tub must stand upon his own bottom."

And so they lay down to sleep again,

and Christian went on his way.


Yet was he troubled to think that men in that danger should so little care for the kindness of him that so offered to help them,

both by awakening of them,

advising them,

and offering to help them off with their irons.


as he was troubled thereabout,

he espied two men come tumbling over the wall on the left hand of the narrow way;

and they made up apace to him.

The name of one was Formalist,

and the name of the other was Hypocrisy.


as I said,

they drew up unto him,

who thus began talking with them:



whence came you,

and whither go you?


and HYP.

We were born in the land of Vain-glory,

and are going for praise to Mount Zion.


Why came you not in at the gate which standeth at the beginning of the way?

Know ye not that it is written,

"He that cometh not in by the door,

but climbeth up some other way,

the same is a thief and a robber?"


and HYP.

They said that to go to the gate for entrance was,

by all their countrymen,

counted too far about;

and that therefore their usual way was to make a short cut of it,

and to climb over the wall as they had done.


But will it not be counted a trespass against the Lord of the city whither we are bound,

thus to disobey His will?


and HYP.

They told him,

that as for that,

he needed not trouble his head thereabout;

for what they did they had custom for,

and could show,

if need were,

testimony that could prove it for more than a thousand years.



said Christian,

"will it stand a trial at law?"


and HYP.

They told him that custom,

it being of so long standing as above a thousand years,

would doubtless now be admitted as a thing according to law by a fair judge.

"And besides,"

said they,

"if we get into the way,

what matter is it which way we may get in?

If we are in,

we are in: thou art but in the way,


as we perceive,

came in at the gate;

and we are also in the way,

that came tumbling over the wall: wherein,


is thy condition better than ours?"


I walk by the rule of my Master;

you walk by the rude working of your fancies.

You are counted thieves already by the Lord of the way;

therefore I doubt you will not be found true men at the end of the way.

You come in by yourselves without His word,

and shall go out by yourselves without His mercy.

To this they made him but little answer;

only they bid him look to himself.

Then I saw that they went on every man in his way,

without much talking one with another;

save that these two men told Christian,


as to law and rules,

they doubted not but that they should as carefully do them as he.


said they,

"we see not wherein thou differest from us,

but by the coat which is on thy back,

which was,

as we believe given thee by some of thy neighbors to hide the shame of thy nakedness."


By laws and rules you will not be saved,

since you came not in by the door.

And as for this coat that is on my back,

it was given to me by the Lord of the place whither I go;

and that,

as you say,

to cover my nakedness with.

And I take it as a token of His kindness to me;

for I had nothing but rags before.

And besides,

thus I comfort myself as I go.


think I,

when I come to the gate of the city,

the Lord thereof will know me for good,

since I have His coat on my back;

a coat that He gave me freely in the day that He stripped me of my rags.

I have moreover,

a mark in my forehead,

of which perhaps you have taken no notice,

which one of my Lord's most intimate friends fixed there the day that my burden fell off my shoulders.

I will tell you,


that I had then given me a roll sealed,

to comfort me by reading as I go in the way;

I was also bid to give it in at the heavenly gate,

in token of my certain going in after it;

all which things,

I doubt,

you want,

and want them because you came not in at the gate.

To these things they gave him no answer;

only they looked upon each other,

and laughed.

Then I saw that they went on all,

save that Christian kept before,

who had no more talk but with himself,

and sometimes sighingly,

and sometimes comfortably;

also he would be often reading in the roll that one of the Shining Ones gave him,

by which he was refreshed.


I beheld then that they all went on till they came to the foot of the Hill Difficulty,

at the bottom of which was a spring.

There were also in the same place two other ways,

besides that which came straight from the gate;

one turned to the left hand,

and the other to the right,

at the bottom of the hill;

but the narrow way lay right up the hill,

and the name of that going up the side of the hill is called Difficulty.

Christian now went to the spring,

and drank thereof to refresh himself,

and then began to go up the hill,


"The hill,

though high,

I covet to ascend;

The difficulty will not me offend,

For I perceive the way to life lies here.


pluck up,


let's neither faint nor fear.


though _difficult_,

the right way to go,

Than wrong,

though _easy_,

where the end is woe."

The other two also came to the foot of the hill.

But when they saw that the hill was steep and high,

and that there were two other ways to go;

and supposing also that these two ways might meet again with that up which Christian went,

on the other side of the hill;

therefore they were resolved to go in those ways.


the name of one of those ways was Danger,

and the name of the other Destruction.

So the one took the way which is called Danger,

which led him into a great wood;

and the other took directly up the way to destruction,

which led him into a wide field,

full of dark mountains,

where he stumbled and fell,

and rose no more.

I looked then after Christian,

to see him go up the hill,

where I perceived he fell from running to going,

and from going to clambering upon his hands and his knees,

because of the steepness of the place.


about the midway to the top of the hill was a pleasant arbor,

made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshment of weary travelers.



Christian got,

where also he sat down to rest him;

then he pulled his roll out of his bosom,

and read therein to his comfort;

he also now began afresh to take a review of the coat or garment that was given him as he stood by the cross.

Thus pleasing himself a while,

he at last fell into a slumber,

and thence into a fast sleep,

which detained him in that place until it was almost night;

and in his sleep his roll fell out of his hand.


as he was sleeping,

there came one to him,

and awaked him,


"Go to the ant,

thou sluggard;[3] consider her ways,

and be wise."


with that,

Christian suddenly started up,

and sped on his way,

and went apace till he came to the top of the hill.

[3] Idle one.



when he was got up to the top of the hill,

there came two men running amain: the name of the one was Timorous,

and of the other Mistrust;

to whom Christian said,


what's the matter?

You run the wrong way."

Timorous answered,

that they were going to the city of Zion,

and had got up that difficult place:


said he,

"the farther we go,

the more danger we meet with;

wherefore we turned,

and are going back again."


said Mistrust,

"for just before us lie a couple of lions in the way,

whether sleeping or waking we know not;

and we could not think,

if we came within reach,

but they would presently pull us in pieces."


Then said Christian,

"You make me afraid;

but whither shall I fly to be safe?

If I go back to my own country,

that is prepared for fire and brimstone,

and I shall certainly perish there;

if I can get to the Celestial City,

I am sure to be in safety there: I must venture.

To go back is nothing but death;

to go forward is fear of death,

and life everlasting beyond it.

I will yet go forward."

So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill,

and Christian went on his way.


thinking again of what he heard from the men,

he felt in his bosom for his roll,

and found it not.

Then was Christian in great distress,

and knew not what to do;

for he wanted that which used to comfort him,

and that which should have been his pass into the Celestial City.



he began to be greatly troubled,

and knew not what to do.

At last he bethought himself that he had slept in the arbor that is on the side of the hill;


falling down upon his knees,

he asked God's forgiveness for that his foolish act,

and then went back to look for his roll.

But all the way he went back,

who can sufficiently set forth the sorrow of Christian's heart?

Sometimes he sighed,

sometimes he wept,

and oftentimes he blamed himself for being so foolish to fall asleep in that place,

which was erected only for a little refreshment from his weariness.



he went back,

carefully looking on this side and on that,

all the way as he went,

if happily he might find his roll that had been his comfort so many times in his journey.

He went thus till he came again within sight of the arbor where he sat and slept;

but that sight renewed his sorrow the more,

by bringing again,

even afresh,

his evil of sleeping into his mind.



he now went on,

bewailing his sinful sleep,


"O wretched man that I am,

that I should sleep in the day-time;

that I should sleep in the midst of difficulty!

that I should so indulge myself,

as to use that rest for ease to my flesh which the Lord of the hill hath builded only for the relief of the spirits of pilgrims!

How many steps have I taken in vain!

Thus it happened to Israel;

for their sin they were sent back again by the way of the Red Sea;

and I am made to tread those steps with sorrow which I might have trod with delight,

had it not been for this sinful sleep.

How far might I have been on my way by this time!

I am made to tread those steps thrice over which I needed not to have trod but once;



now I am like to be benighted,

for the day is almost spent.

Oh that I had not slept!"



by this time he was come to the arbor again,

where for awhile he sat down and wept;

but at last (as Providence would have it),

looking sorrowfully down under the settle,

there he espied his roll,

the which he,

with trembling and haste,

caught up,

and put it into his bosom.

But who can tell how joyful this man was when he had got his roll again?

for this roll was the assurance of his life and acceptance at the desired haven.

Therefore he laid it up in his bosom,

giving thanks to God for directing his eye to the place where it lay,

and with joy and tears betook himself again to his journey.

But oh,

how nimbly now did he go up the rest of the hill!


before he got up,

the sun went down upon Christian;

and this made him again recall the folly of his sleeping to his remembrance;

and thus he began again to condole with himself,


thou sinful sleep!

how for thy sake am I like to be benighted in my journey.

I must walk without the sun,

darkness must cover the path of my feet,

and I must hear the noise of the doleful creatures,

because of my sinful sleep."

Now also he remembered the story that Mistrust and Timorous told him,

of how they were frighted with the sight of the lions.

Then said Christian to himself again,

"These beasts range in the night for their prey;

and if they should meet with me in the dark,

how should I avoid them?

how should I escape being torn in pieces?"

Thus he went on his way.


while he was thus bewailing his unhappy mistake,

he lifted up his eyes,

and behold there was a very stately palace before him,

the name of which was Beautiful,

and it stood just by the highway side.


So I saw in my dream that he made haste,

and went forward,


if possible,

he might get lodging there.


before he had gone far,

he entered into a very narrow passage,

which was about a furlong off the Porter's lodge;

and looking very narrowly before him as he went,

he espied two lions in the way.


thought he,

I see the dangers by which Mistrust and Timorous were driven back.

(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 out unto him,


"Is thy strength so small?

fear not the lions,

for they are chained,

and are placed there for the trial of faith where it is,

and for the finding out 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;


taking good heed to the words of the Porter,

he heard them roar,

but they did him no harm.

Then he clapped his hands,

and went on till he came and stood before the gate where the Porter was.

Then said Christian to the Porter,


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.


I am come from the City of Destruction,

and am going to Mount Zion;


because the sun is now set,

I desire,

if I may,

to lodge here to-night.


What is your name?


My name is now Christian,

but my name at the first was Graceless.


But how doth it happen that you come so late?

The sun is set.


I had been here sooner,

but that,

wretched man that I am,

I slept in the arbor that stands on the hill-side.


I had,

notwithstanding that,

been here much sooner,

but that in my sleep I lost my roll,

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.



I will call out one of the women 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 of the door of the house a grave and beautiful young woman,

named Discretion,

and asked why she was called.

The Porter answered,

"This man is on a journey from the City of Destruction to Mount Zion;


being weary and benighted,

he asked me if he might lodge here to-night;

so I told him I would call for thee,


after speaking with him,

mayest do as seemeth thee good,

even according to the law of the house."

[Sidenote: PIETY,



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 on the way;

and he told her.

And at 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,


by what I perceive,

this place was built by the Lord of the hill for the relief and safety 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 of my family."

So she ran to the door,

and called out Prudence,


and Charity,


after a little more discourse with him brought him in to the family;

and many of them,

meeting him at the threshold of the house,


"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.


when he was come in and sat down,

they gave him something to drink,

and agreed together,


until supper was ready,

some of them should talk with Christian,

for the best use of the time;

and they appointed Piety,


and Charity to talk with him;

and thus they began:



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.


With a very good will,

and I am glad that you are so well disposed.


What moved you at first to betake yourself to a pilgrim's life?



I was driven out of my native country by a dreadful sound that was in mine ears;

to wit,

that certain destruction did await me,

if I abode in that place where I was.


But how did it happen that you came out of your country this way?


It was as God would have it;


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 in the way that hath led me directly to this house.


But did you not come by the house of the Interpreter?



and did see such things there,

the remembrance of which will stick by me as long as I live,

especially three things;

to wit,

how Christ,

in despite of Satan,

the Evil One 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 judgment was come.



did you hear him tell his dream?



and a dreadful one it was,

I thought it made my heart ache as he was telling of it;

but yet I am glad I heard of it.


Was that all you saw at the house of the Interpreter?



he took me,

and had me where he showed 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 delight my heart.

I would have stayed at that good man's house a twelvemonth,

but that I knew I had farther to go.


And what saw you else in the way?




I went but a little farther,

and I saw One,

as I thought in my mind,

hang bleeding upon a tree;

and the very sight of Him made my burden fall off my back;

for I groaned under a very heavy burden,

and then it fell down from off me.

It was a strange thing to me,

for I never saw such a thing before;


and while I stood looking up (for then I could not forbear looking),

three Shining Ones came to me.

One of them told me that my sins were forgiven me;

another stripped me of my rags,

and gave me this broidered coat which you see;

and the third set the mark which you see in my forehead,

and gave me this sealed roll.


with that,

he plucked it out of his bosom.)


But you saw more than this,

did you not?


The things that I have told you were the best;

yet some other matters I saw;

as namely I saw three men,



and Presumption,

lie asleep,

a little out of the way as I came,

with irons upon their heels;

but do you think I could wake them?

I also saw Formalist and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall,

to go,

as they pretended,

to Zion;

but they were quickly lost,

even as I myself did tell them,

but they would not believe.


above all,

I found it hard work to get up this hill,

and as hard to come by the lions' 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.


Do you think sometimes of the country from whence you came?



but with much shame and detestation.


if I had been mindful of that country from whence I came out,

I might have had an opportunity to have returned;

but now I desire a better country,

that is,

a heavenly one.


Do you not yet bear away with you in your thoughts some of the things that you did in the former time?



but greatly against my will;

especially my inward and sinful thoughts,

with which all my countrymen,

as well as myself,

were delighted.

But now all those things are my grief;


might I but choose mine own things,

I would choose never to think of those things more;

but when I would be doing that which is best,

that which is worst is with me.


Do you not find sometimes as if those things were overcome,

which at other times are your trouble?



but that is but seldom;

but they are to me golden hours in which such things happen to me.


Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances,

at times,

as if they were overcome?



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.


And what makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion?



there I hope to see Him alive that did hang dead on the cross;

and there I hope to be rid of all these things that to this day are in me an annoyance to me.


they say,

there is no death;

and there I shall dwell with such company as I like best.


to tell you the 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,






Then said Charity to Christian,

"Have you a family?

are you a married man?"


I have a wife and four small children.


And why did you not bring them along with you?


Then Christian wept,

and said,


how willingly would I have done it!

but they were all of them utterly against my going on pilgrimage."


But you should have talked to them,

and endeavored to have shown them the danger of staying behind.


So I did,

and told them also what God had shown to me of the destruction of our city;

but I seemed to them as one that mocked,

and they believed me not.


And did you pray to God that He would bless your words to them?



and that with much affection;

for you must think that my wife and poor children are very dear unto me.


But did you tell them of your own sorrow and fear of destruction?

for I suppose that you could see your destruction before you.




and over,

and over.

They might also see my fears in my countenance,

in my tears,

and also in my trembling under the fear of the judgment that did hang over our heads: but all was not enough to prevail with them to come with me.


But what could they say for themselves why they came not?



my wife was afraid of losing this world,

and my children were given to the foolish delights of youth;


what by one thing,

and what by another,

they left me to wander in this manner alone.


But did you not,

with your vain life,

hinder all that you by words used by way of persuasion to bring them away with you?



I cannot commend my life,

for I am conscious to myself of many failings therein.

I know also,

that a man,

by his actions may soon overthrow what,

by proofs or persuasion,

he doth labor 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.


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.


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 neighbor.



Cain hated his brother because his own works were evil,

and his brother's righteous;


if thy wife and children have been offended with thee for this,

they thereby show themselves to be resolutely opposed to good: thou hast freed thy soul from their blood.

Now I saw in my dream,

that thus they sat talking together till supper was ready.


when they had made ready,

they sat down to meat.


the table was furnished with fat things,

and wine that was well refined;

and all their talk at the table was about the Lord of the hill;



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 warrior,

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.


as they said,

and as I believe (said Christian),

He did it with the loss of much blood.

But that which puts the glory of grace into all He did,


that He did it out of pure love to this country.



there were some of them of the household that said they had seen and spoken with Him since He did die on the cross;

and they have declared 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 stripped Himself of His glory,

that He might do this for the poor;

and that they had heard Him say and affirm that He would not dwell in the mountains of Zion alone.

They said,


that He had made many pilgrims princes,

though by nature they were beggars born,

and their home had been the dunghill.

Thus they talked 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 sunrising.

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 talking together,

they told him that he should not depart till they had shown him the rarities of that place.

And first they took him into the study,

where they showed him records of the greatest age;

in which,

as I remember in my dream,

they showed him first the history of the Lord of the hill,

that He was the son of the Ancient of Days,

and had lived from the beginning.

Here also were more fully written 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 houses that could neither by length of days nor decays of nature be destroyed.

Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of His servants had done;


how they had conquered 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 enemies.

They then read again in another part of the records of the house,

where it was shown how willing their Lord was to receive into His favor any even any,

though they in time past had done great wrongs to His person and rule.

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 foretellings of things that surely come to pass,

both to the dread and wonder of enemies,

and the comfort and happiness of pilgrims.

The next day they took him and led him into the armory,

where they showed him all manner of weapons which their Lord had provided for pilgrims;

as sword,





and shoes 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 showed him some of the things with which some of His servants had done wonderful things.

They showed him Moses' rod;

the hammer and nail with which Jael slew Sisera;

the pitchers,


and lamps too,

with which Gideon put to flight the armies of Midian.

Then they showed him the ox's goad wherewith Shamgar slew six hundred men.

They showed him also the jaw-bone with which Samson did such mighty feats.

They showed him,


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 battle.

They showed him,


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 forward,

but they desired him to stay till the next day also;

"and then,"

said they,

"we will,

if the day be clear,

show you the Delectable Mountains;"

which they said would yet further add to his comfort,

because they were nearer the desired haven than the place where at present he was.

So he consented and stayed.

When the morning was up,

they led 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,


fruits of all sorts,

flowers also,

with springs and fountains,

very lovely 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 thou mayest see to the gate of the Celestial City,

as the shepherds that live there will make appear."

Now he bethought himself of setting forward,

and they were willing he should.

"But first,"

said they,

"let us go again into the armory."

So they did;

and when he came there,

they dressed him from head to foot with armor of proof,

lest perhaps he should meet with assaults in the way.

He being,


thus armed,

walked out with his friends to the gate;

and there he asked the Porter if he saw any pilgrim pass by.

Then the Porter answered,




did you know him?"

said he.


I asked his name,

and he told me it was Faithful.



said Christian,

"I know him,

he is my townsman,

my near neighbor;

he comes from the place where I was born.

How far do you think he may be before?"


He has got by this time below the hill.



said Christian,

"good Porter,

the Lord be with thee,

and add to all thy blessings much increase for the kindness thou has shown to me!"

Then he began to go forward;

but Discretion,



and Prudence would accompany him down to the foot of the hill.

So they went on together repeating their former discourses,

till they came to go down the hill.

Then said Christian,

"As it was difficult coming up,

so far so as I can see,

it is dangerous going down."


said Prudence,

"so it is;

for it is a hard matter for a man to go down the Valley of Humiliation,

as thou art now,

and to catch no slip by the way;


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 his way.


But now,

in this Valley of Humiliation,

poor Christian was hard put to it;

for he had gone but a little way before he espied a foul fiend coming over the field to meet him: his name is Apollyon.

Then did Christian begin to be afraid,

and to cast in his mind whether to go back or to stand his ground.

But he considered again that he had no armor for his back,

and therefore thought that to turn the back to him might give him greater advantage with ease to pierce him with darts;

therefore he resolved to venture and stand his ground;


thought he,

had I no more in mine eye than the saving of my life,

it would be the best way to stand.

So he went on,

and Apollyon met him.


the monster was hideous to behold: he was clothed with scales like a fish,

and they are his pride;

he had wings like a dragon,

and feet like a bear,

and out of his belly came fire and smoke;

and his mouth was as the mouth of a lion.

When he was come up to Christian,

he beheld him with a disdainful countenance,

and thus began to question with him:



Whence come you,

and whither are you bound?


I am come from the City of Destruction,

which is the place of all evil,

and am going to the City of Zion.


By this I perceive that 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 that thou mayest do me more service,

I would strike thee now at one blow to the ground.


I was indeed born in your kingdom;

but your service was hard,

and your wages such as a man could not live on;

for the wages of sin is death;


when I was come to years,

I did as other thoughtful persons do,

look out,

if perhaps I might mend myself.


There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects,

neither will I as yet lose thee;


since thou complainest of thy service and wages,

be content to go back,

and what our country will afford I do here promise to give thee.


But I have let myself to another,

even to the King of princes;

and how can I with fairness go back with thee?


Thou hast done in this according to the proverb,

"changed a bad for a worse;"

but it is common for those that have called themselves His servants,

after awhile to give Him the slip,

and return again to me.

Do thou so too,

and all shall be well.


I have given Him my faith,

and sworn my service to Him;



can I go back from this,

and not be hanged as a traitor?


Thou didst the same to me,

and yet I am willing to pass by all,

if now thou wilt yet turn again and go back.


What I promised thee was in my youth,

and besides,

I count that the Prince under whose banner I now stand is able to set me free,


and to pardon also what I did as to my service with thee.

And besides,

O thou destroying Apollyon,

to speak the truth,

I like His service,

His wages,

His servants,

His government,

His company,

and country,

better than thine;

therefore leave off to persuade me further: I am His servant,

and I will follow Him.


Consider again when thou art in cold blood,

what thou art likely 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 disobedient 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 their hands;

but as for me,

how many times,

as all the world very well knows,

have I delivered,

either by power or fraud,

those that have faithfully served me,

from Him and His,

though taken by them!

And so I will deliver thee.


His forbearing at present to deliver them is on purpose to try their love,

whether they will cleave to Him to the end;


as for the ill end thou sayest they come to,

that is most glorious in their account.


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.


Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to Him;

and how dost thou think to receive wages of Him?



O Apollyon,

have I been unfaithful to Him?


Thou didst faint at first setting out,

when thou wast almost choked in the Gulf of Despond.

Thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy burden,

whereas thou shouldst have stayed till thy Prince had taken it off.

Thou didst sinfully sleep and lose thy choice things.

Thou wast almost persuaded to go back at the sight of the lions.

And when thou talkest of thy journey,

and of what thou hast seen and heard,

thou art inwardly desirous of glory to thyself in all that thou sayest or doest.


All this is true,

and much more which thou hast left out;

but the Prince whom I serve and honor is merciful and ready to forgive.

But besides,

these infirmities possessed me in thy own country;

for there I sucked them in,

and I have groaned under them,

been sorry for them,

and have obtained pardon of my Prince.


Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage,


"I am an enemy to this Prince;

I hate His person,

His laws,

and people.

I am come out on purpose to withstand thee."




beware what you do,

for I am in the King's highway,

the way of holiness: therefore take heed to yourself.


Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way,

and said,

"I am void of fear in this matter.

Prepare thyself to die;

for I swear by my infernal den,

that thou shalt go no farther: here will I spill thy soul."


with that,

he threw a flaming dart at his breast;

but Christian held a shield in his hand,

with which he caught,

and so prevented the danger of that.

Then did Christian draw,

for he saw it was time to bestir him;

and Apollyon as fast made at him,

throwing darts as thick as hail,

by the which,

notwithstanding all that Christian could do to avoid it,

Apollyon wounded him in his head,

his hand,

and foot.

This made Christian give a little back;



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,


wrestling with him,

gave him a dreadful fall;


with that,

Christian's sword flew out of his hand.

Then said Apollyon,

"I am sure of thee now."


with that,

he had almost pressed him to death,

so that Christian began to despair of life.


as God would have it,

while Apollyon was fetching 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,


"Rejoice not against me,

O mine enemy: when I fall I shall arise;"


with that,

gave him a deadly thrust,

which made him give back,

as one that had received his mortal wound.


perceiving that,

made at him again,



in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us."


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;


on the other side,

what sighs and groans burst from Christian's heart.

I never saw him all the while give so much as one pleasant look,

till he perceived he had wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword;



he did smile and look upward;

but it was the dreadfullest sight that ever I saw.




when the battle 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,


"Great Satan,

the captain of this fiend,

Designed my ruin;

therefore to this end He sent him harnessed out: and he with rage That hellish was,

did fiercely me engage;

But blessed angels helped me;

and I,

By dint of sword,

did quickly make him fly: Therefore to God let me give lasting praise,

And thank and bless His holy name always."

Then there came to him a hand with some of the leaves of the tree of life;

the which Christian took,

and laid upon the wounds that he had received in the battle,

and was healed immediately.

He also sat down in that place to eat bread,

and to drink of the bottle that was given to him a little before: so,

being refreshed,

he went forth on his journey,

with his sword drawn in his hand;


he said,

"I know not but some other enemy may be at hand."

But he met with no other harm from Apollyon quite through this valley.


at the end of this valley was another,

called the Valley of the Shadow of Death;

and Christian must needs go through it,

because the way to the Celestial City lay through the midst of it.

Now this valley is a very solitary place;

the prophet Jeremiah thus describes it:

"A wilderness,

a land of deserts and pits,

a land of drought,

and of the shadow of death,

a land that no man" but a Christian "passeth through,

and where no man dwelt."

Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his fight with Apollyon,

as in the story you shall see.

I saw then in my dream,

that when Christian was got to the borders of the Shadow of Death,

there met him two men,

children of them that brought up an evil report of the good land,

making haste to go back;

to whom Christian spake as follows:


Whither are you going?


They said,



and we would have you to do so too,

if either life or peace is prized by you."



what's the matter?"

said Christian.



said they:

"we were going that way as you are going,

and went as far as we durst: and indeed we were almost past coming back;

for had we gone a little farther,

we had not been here to bring the news to thee."


"But what have you met with?"

said Christian.



we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of Death,

but that by good hap we looked before us,

and saw the danger before we came to it.


"But what have you seen?"

said Christian.




the valley itself,

which is as dark as pitch: we also saw there the hobgoblins,


and dragons of the pit;

we heard also in that valley a continual howling and yelling,

as of a people under unutterable misery,

who there sat bound in affliction and irons;

and over that hung the discouraging clouds of confusion;

Death also does always spread his wings over it.

In a word,

it is every whit dreadful,

being utterly without order.


Then said Christian,

"I perceive not yet,

by what you have said,

but that this is my way to the desired haven."


Be it thy way,

we will not choose it for ours.

So they parted,

and Christian went on his way,

but still with his sword drawn in his hand,

for fear lest he should be attacked.

I saw then in my dream,

as far as this valley reached,

there was on the right hand a very deep ditch;

that ditch is it into which the blind have led the blind in all ages,

and have both there miserably perished.



on the left hand there was a very dangerous quag,

or marsh,

into which,

if even a good man falls,

he finds no bottom for his foot to stand on: into that quag King David once did fall,

and had no doubt there been smothered,

had not He that is able plucked him out.

The pathway was here also exceedingly narrow,

and therefore good Christian was the more put to it;

for when he sought,

in the dark,

to shun the ditch,

on the one hand he was ready to tip over into the mire on the other;

also when he sought to escape the mire,

without great carefulness he would be ready to fall into the ditch.

Thus he went on,

and I heard him here sigh bitterly,

for besides the danger mentioned above,

the pathway was here so dark,

that ofttimes,

when he lifted up his foot to go forward,

he knew not where or upon what he should set it next.


About the midst of this valley I perceived the mouth of hell to be,

and it stood also hard by the wayside.


thought Christian,

what shall I do?

And ever and anon the flame and smoke would come out in such abundance,

with sparks and hideous noises (things that cared not for Christian's sword,

as did Apollyon before),

that he was forced to put up his sword,

and betake himself to another weapon,

called "All-Prayer."

So he cried in my hearing,

"O Lord,

I beseech Thee,

deliver my soul."

Thus he went on a great while,

yet still the flames would be reaching towards him;

also he heard doleful voices,

and rushings to and fro,

so that sometimes he thought he should be torn in pieces,

or trodden down like mire in the streets.

This frightful sight was seen,

and those dreadful noises were heard by him,

for several miles together,


coming to a place where he thought he heard a company of fiends coming forward to meet him,

he stopped,

and began to muse what he had best to do.

Sometimes he had half a thought to go back;

then again he thought he might be half-way through the valley.

He remembered,


how he had already vanquished many a danger,

and that the danger of going back might be much more than going forward.

So he resolved to go on;

yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer.


when they were come even almost at him,

he cried out with a most vehement voice,

"I will walk in the strength of the Lord God."

So they gave back,

and came no farther.


One thing I would not let slip: I took notice that now poor Christian was so confounded that he did not know his own voice;

and thus I perceived it: just when he was come over against the mouth of the burning pit,

one of the wicked ones got behind him,

and stepped up softly to him,

and whisperingly suggested many wicked words to him,

which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind.

This put Christian more to it than anything he had met with before,

even to think that he should now speak evil of Him that he had so much loved before.


if he could have helped it,

he would not have done it;

but he had not the wisdom either to stop his ears,

or to know from whence those wicked words came.

When Christian had traveled in this sorrowful condition some considerable time he thought he heard the voice of a man,

as going before him,


"Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death I will fear no evil;

for Thou art with me."

Then he was glad,

and that for these reasons:


--Because he gathered from thence,

that some who feared God were in this valley as well as himself.


--For that he perceived God was with them,

though in that dark and dismal state.

And why not,

thought he,

with me,

though by reason of the kindness that attends this place,

I cannot perceive it?


--For that he hoped (could he overtake them) to have company by-and-by.

So he went on,

and called to him that was before;

but he knew not what to answer,

for that he also thought himself to be alone.

And by-and-by the day broke.

Then said Christian,

"He hath turned the shadow of death into the morning."


morning being come,

he looked back,

not out of desire to return,

but to see,

by the light of the day,

what dangers he had gone through in the dark.

So he saw more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand,

and the quag that was on the other;

also how narrow the way which led betwixt them both.

Also now he saw the hobgoblins,

and satyrs,

and dragons of the pit,

but all afar off;

for after break of day they came not nigh;

yet they were shown to him according to that which is written,

"He showeth deep things out of darkness,

and bringeth out to light the shadow of death."

Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance from all the dangers of his solitary way;

which dangers,

though he feared them much before,

yet he saw them more clearly now,

because the light of the day made them plain to him.

And about this time the sun was rising,

and this was another mercy to Christian;

for you must note that,

though the first part of the Valley of the Shadow of Death was dangerous,

yet this second part,

which he was yet to go,

was if possible far more dangerous;


from the place where he now stood,

even to the end of the valley,

the way was all along set so full of snares,



and nets here,

and so full of pits,


deep holes,

and shelvings down there,


had it now been dark,

as it was when he came the first part of the way,

had he had a thousand souls,

they had in reason been cast away.


as I said just now the sun was rising.

Then said he,

"His candle shineth on my head,

and by His light I go through darkness."

[Sidenote: POPE AND PAGAN]

In this light,


he came to the end of the valley.


I saw in my dream that at the end of the valley lay blood,



and mangled bodies of men,

even of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly;


while I was musing what should be the reason,

I espied a little before me a cave,

where two giants,


dwelt in old time;

by whose power and tyranny,

the men whose bones,




lay there,

were cruelly put to death.

But by this place Christian went without danger,

whereat I somewhat wondered;

but I have learnt since,

that Pagan has been dead many a day;


as for the other,

though he be yet alive,

he is,

by reason of age,

also of the many shrewd brushes that he met with in his younger days,

grown so crazy and stiff in his joints,

that he can now do little more than sit in his cave's mouth,

grinning at pilgrims as they go by,

and biting his nails because he cannot come to them.

So I saw that Christian went on his way;


at the sight of the old man that sat at the mouth of the cave,

he could not tell what to think,

especially because he spoke to him,

though he could not go after him,


"You will never mend till more of you be burned."

But he held his peace,

and set a good face on it,

and so went by and caught no hurt.

Then sang Christian:


world of wonders (I can say no less),

That I should be preserved in that distress That I have met with here!


blessed be That hand that from it hath delivered me!

Dangers in darkness,



and sin,

Did compass me,

while I this vale was in;



and pits,

and traps,

and nets did lie My path about,

that worthless,

silly I Might have been catched,


and cast down;


since I live,

let Jesus wear the crown."

[Illustration: Christian and Faithful Join Company.

Page 89]

CHAPTER V. Now as Christian went on his way,

he came to a little ascent which was cast up on purpose that pilgrims might see before them: up there,


Christian went;

and looking forward,

he saw Faithful before him upon his journey.

Then said Christian aloud,





and I will be your companion."

At that Faithful looked behind him;

to whom Christian cried,



till I come up to you."

But Faithful answered,


I am upon my life,

and the avenger of blood is behind me."


At this Christian was somewhat moved;

and putting to all his strength,

he quickly got up with Faithful,

and did also overrun him: so the last was first.

Then did Christian boastfully smile,

because he had gotten the start of his brother;


not taking good heed to his feet,

he suddenly stumbled and fell,

and could not rise again until Faithful came up to help him.

Then I saw in my dream,

they went very lovingly on together,

and had sweet talk together of all things that had happened to them in their pilgrimage;

and thus Christian began:


My honored and well-beloved brother Faithful,

I am glad that I have overtaken you,

and that God has so tempered our spirits that we can walk as companions in this so pleasant a path.


I had thought,

dear friend,

to have had your company quite from our town;

but you did get the start of me,

wherefore I was forced to come thus much of the way alone.


How long did you stay in the City of Destruction before you set out after me on your pilgrimage?



Till I could stay no longer;

for there was great talk,

presently after you were gone out,

that our city would,

in a short time,

with fire from heaven,

be burned down to the ground.



did your neighbors talk so?



it was for a while in everybody's mouth.



and did no more of them but you come out to escape the danger?


Though there was,

as I said,

a great talk thereabout,

yet I do not think they did firmly believe it.


in the heat of the talking I heard some of them deridingly speak of you,

and of your desperate journey;

for so they called this your pilgrimage.

But I did believe,

and do still,

that the end of our city will be with fire and brimstone from above;

and therefore I have made my escape.


Did you hear no talk of neighbor Pliable?




I heard that he followed you till he came to the Slough of Despond,


as some said,

he fell in;

but he would not be known to have so done;

but I am sure he was soundly bedabbled with that kind of dirt.


And what said the neighbors to him?


He hath,

since his going back,

been held greatly in derision,

and that among all sorts of people: some do mock and despise him,

and scarce any will set him on work.

He is now seven times worse than if he had never gone out of the city.


But why should they be set so against him,

since they also despise the way that he forsook?



they say,

"hang him;

he is a turncoat!

he was not true to his profession!"

I think God has stirred up even his enemies to hiss at him and laugh at him,

because he hath forsaken the way.


Had you no talk with him before you came out?


I met him once in the streets,

but he leered away on the other side,

as one ashamed of what he had done;

so I spake not to him.



at my first setting out,

I had hopes of that man,

but now I fear he will perish in the overthrow of the city.

For it has happened to him according to the true proverb,

"The dog is turned to his vomit again,

and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire."


These are my fears of him too;

but who can hinder that which will be?



neighbor Faithful,"

said Christian,

"let us leave him,

and talk of things that more immediately concern ourselves.

Tell me now what you have met with in the way as you came;

for I know you have met with some things,

or else it may be writ for a wonder."


I escaped the slough that I perceive you fell into,

and got up to the gate without that danger;

only I met with one whose name was Wanton,

that had like to have done me a mischief.


It was well you escaped her net: Joseph was hard put to it by her,

and he escaped her as you did;

but it had like to have cost him his life.

But what did she do to you?


You cannot think (but that you know something) what a flattering tongue she had;

she lay at me hard to turn aside with her,

promising me all manner of enjoyment.



she did not promise you the enjoyment of a good conscience.


You know what I mean --not the enjoyment of the soul,

but of the body.


Thank God you have escaped her: the abhorred of the Lord shall fall into her ditch.



I know not whether I did wholly escape her or no.



I suppose you did not consent to her desires?



not to defile myself;

for I remembered an old writing that I had seen which saith,

"Her steps take hold of hell."

So I shut mine eyes,

because I would not be bewitched with her looks.

Then she railed on me,

and I went my way.


Did you meet with no other assault as you came?



When I came to the foot of the hill called Difficulty,

I met with a very aged man,

who asked me what I was and whither bound.

I told him that I was a pilgrim,

going to the Celestial City.

Then said the old man,

"Thou lookest like an honest fellow: wilt thou be content to dwell with me,

for the wages that I shall give thee?"

Then I asked him his name,

and where he dwelt.

He said his name was Adam the First,

and that he dwelt in the town of Deceit.

I asked him then what was his work,

and what the wages that he would give.

He told me that his work was many delights;

and his wages,

that I should be his heir at last.

I further asked him what house he kept,

and what other servants he had.

So he told me that his house was filled with all the dainties of the world,

and that his servants were his own children.

Then I asked him how many children he had.

He said that he had but three daughters,

the Lust of the Flesh,

the Lust of the Eyes,

and the Pride of Life,

and that I should marry them if I would.

Then I asked,

how long time he would have me live with him?

And he told me,

As long as he lived himself.



and what conclusion came the old man and you to at last?



at first I found myself somewhat inclinable to go with the man,

for I thought he spake very fair;

but looking in his forehead,

as I talked with him,

I saw there written,

"Put off the old man with his deeds."


And how then?


Then it came burning hot into my mind,

whatever he said,

and however he flattered,

when he got home to his house he would sell me for a slave.

So I bid him forbear,

for I would not come near the door of his house.

Then he reviled me,

and told me that he would send such a one after me that should make my way bitter to my soul.

So I turned to go away from him;


just as I turned myself to go thence,

I felt him take hold of my flesh,

and give me such a deadly twitch back,

that I thought he had pulled part of me after himself: this made me cry,

"O wretched man!"

So I went on my way up the hill.


when I had got about half-way up,

I looked behind me,

and saw one coming after me,

swift as the wind;

so he overtook me just about the place where the settle stands.


"Just there,"

said Christian,

"did I sit down to rest me;

but being overcome with sleep,

I there lost this roll out of my bosom."



good brother,

hear me out.

So soon as the man overtook me,

he was but a word and a blow;

for down he knocked me,

and laid me for dead.


when I was a little come to myself again,

I asked him wherefore he served me so.

He said,

because of my secret inclining to Adam the First.


with that,

he struck me another deadly blow on the breast,

and beat me down backwards;

so I lay at his feet as dead as before.


when I came to myself again,

I cried him mercy;

but he said,

"I know not how to show mercy;"


with that,

he knocked me down again.

He had doubtless made an end of me,

but that One came by,

and bid him forbear.


Who was that that bid him forbear?


I did not know him at first;


as He went by,

I perceived the holes in His hands and His side;

then I concluded that He was our Lord.

So I went up the hill.


That man that overtook you was Moses.

He spareth none,

neither knoweth he how to show mercy to those that disobey his law.


I know it very well: it was not the first time that he has met with me.

It was he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home,

and that told me he would burn my house over my head if I stayed there.


But Did not you see the house that stood there,

on the top of that hill on the side of which Moses met you?



and the lions too,

before I came at it.


for the lions,

I think they were asleep,

for it was about noon;

and because I had so much of the day before me I passed by the Porter,

and came down the hill.


He told me,


that he saw you go by;

but I wished you had called at the house,

for they would have showed you so many rarities,

that you would scarce have forgot them to the day of your death.

But pray tell me,

did you meet nobody in the Valley of Humility?



I met with one Discontent,

who would willingly have persuaded me to go back again with him: his reason was,

for that the valley was altogether without honor.

He told me,


that there to go was the way to disoblige all my friends,

as Pride,




with others,

who he knew,

as he said,

would be very much offended if I made such a fool of myself as to wade through this valley.



and how did you answer him?


I told him that,

although all these that he named might claim kindred of me,

and that rightly (for,


they were my relations according to the flesh),


since I became a pilgrim,

they have disowned me,

as I also have rejected them;

and therefore they were to me now no more than if they had never been of my lineage.

I told him,


that as to this valley,

he had quite misrepresented the thing;

for before honor is humility,

and a haughty spirit before a fall.


said I,

"I had rather go through this valley to the honor that was so accounted by the wisest,

than choose that which he esteemed most worthy of our affections."


Met you with nothing else in that valley?




I met with Shame;


of all the men that I met with in my pilgrimage,

he I think,

bears the wrong name.

The others would take "No" for an answer,

at least after some words of denial;

but this bold-faced Shame would never have done.



what did he say to you?




he objected against religion itself.

He said it was a pitiful,


sneaking business for a man to mind religion.

He said that a tender conscience was an unmanly thing;

and that for a man to watch over his words and ways,

so as to tie up himself from that liberty that the brave spirits of the times accustom themselves unto,

would make him the ridicule of all the people in our time.

He objected also,

that but a few of the mighty,


or wise were ever of my opinion;

nor any of them neither,

before they were persuaded to be fools,

to venture the loss of all for nobody else knows what.



objected the base and low estate and condition of those that were chiefly the pilgrims of the times in which they lived;

also their ignorance,

and want of understanding in all worldly knowledge.


he did hold me to it at that rate also,

about a great many more things than here I relate;


that it was a shame to sit whining and mourning under a sermon,

and a shame to come sighing and groaning home;

that it was a shame to ask my neighbor forgiveness for petty faults,

or to give back what I had taken from any.

He said also that religion made a man grow strange to the great,

because of a few vices (which he called by finer names),

and because religion made him own and respect the base,

who were of the same religious company;

"and is not this,"

said he,

"a shame?"


And what did you say to him?



I could not tell what to say at first.


he put me so to it that my blood came up in my face;

even this Shame fetched it up,

and had almost beat me quite off.

But at last I began to consider that that which is highly esteemed among men is had in abomination with God.

And I thought again,

This Shame tells me what men are,

but it tells me nothing what God,

or the Word of God is.

And I thought,


that at the day of doom we shall not be doomed to death or life according to the spirits of the world,

but according to the wisdom and law of the Highest.


thought I,

what God says is best --is best,

though all the men in the world are against it.



that God prefers His religion;

seeing God prefers a tender conscience;

seeing they that make themselves fools for the kingdom of heaven are wisest,

and that the poor man that loveth Christ is richer than the greatest man in the world that hates Him;



thou art an enemy to my salvation.

Shall I listen to thee against my sovereign Lord?



shall I look Him in the face at His coming?

Should I now be ashamed of His way and servants how can I expect the blessing?



this Shame was a bold villain: I could scarce shake him out of my company;


he would be haunting of me,

and continually whispering me in the ear with some one or other of the weak things that attend religion.

But at last I told him it was in vain to attempt further in this business;

for those things that he despised,

in those did I see most glory;

and so,

at last,

I got past this persistent one.

And when I had shaken him off,

then I began to sing,

"The trials that those men do meet withal,

That are obedient to the heavenly call,

Are manifold,

and suited to the flesh,

And come,

and come,

and come again afresh;

That now,

or some time else,

we by them may Be taken,


and cast away.


let the pilgrims,

let the pilgrims then,

Be vigilant and quit themselves like men!"


I am glad,

my brother,

that thou didst withstand this villain so bravely: for of all,

as thou sayest,

I think he has the wrong name;

for he is so bold as to follow us in the streets,

and to attempt to put us to shame before all men;

that is,

to make us ashamed of that which is good.


if he was not himself bold,

he would never attempt to do as he does.

But let us still resist him;


notwithstanding all his bold words,

he promoteth the fool,

and none else.

"The wise shall inherit glory,"

said Solomon;

"but shame shall be the promotion of fools."


I think we must cry to Him for help against Shame who would have us to be valiant for truth upon the earth.


You say true.

But did you meet nobody else in that valley?



not I;

for I had sunshine all the rest of the way through that,

and also through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.


It was well for you!

I am sure it fared far otherwise with me.

I had for a long season,

as soon almost as I entered into that valley,

a dreadful combat with that foul fiend Apollyon;


I thought verily he would have killed me,

especially when he got me down,

and crushed me under him,

as if he would have crushed me to pieces.


as he threw me,

my sword flew out of my hand;


he told me he was sure of me;

and I cried to God,

and He heard me,

and delivered me out of all my troubles.

Then I entered into the Valley of the Shadow of Death,

and had no light for almost half the way through it.

I thought I should have been killed there over and over: but at last day broke,

and the sun rose,

and I went through that which was behind with far more ease and quiet.



I saw in my dream that,

as they went on,


as he chanced to look on one side,

saw a man whose name is Talkative walking at a distance beside them;

for in this place there was room enough for them all to walk.

He was a tall man,

and something better looking at a distance than near at hand.

To this man Faithful spoke himself in this manner:



whither away?

Are you going to the heavenly country?


I am going to that same place.


That is well;

then I hope we may have your good company.


With a very good will,

will I be your companion.


Come on,


and let us go together,

and let us spend our time in talking of things that are profitable.


To talk of things that are good,

to me is very acceptable,

with you or with any other;

and I am glad that I have met with those that incline to so good a work;


to speak the truth,

there are but few who care thus to spend their time as they are in their travels,

but choose much rather to be speaking of things to no profit;

and this has been a trouble to me.


That is,


a thing to be lamented;

for what things so worthy of the use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth,

as are the things of the God of heaven?


I like you wonderfully well,

for your saying is full of the truth;

and I will add,

What thing is so pleasant,

and what so profitable,

as to talk of the things of God?

What things so pleasant?

that is,

if a man hath any delight in things that are wonderful.

For instance,

if a man doth delight to talk of the history or the mystery of things,

or if a man doth love to talk of miracles,


or signs,

where shall he find things written so delightful,

or so sweetly penned,

as in the Holy Scripture?


That's true;

but to be profited by such things in our talk should be that which we design.



That is it that I said;

for to talk of such things is most profitable;


by so doing,

a man may get knowledge of many things;

as of the folly of earthly things,

and the benefit of things above.


by this a man may learn what it is to turn from sin,

to believe,

to pray,

to suffer,

or the like;

by this,


a man may learn what are the great promises and comforts of the Gospel,

to his own enjoyment.


by this a man may learn to answer false opinions,

to prove the truth,

and also to teach the ignorant.


All this is true;

and glad am I to hear these things from you.



the want of this is the cause that so few understand the need of faith,

and the necessity of a work of grace in their soul,

in order to eternal life.



by your leave,

heavenly knowledge of these is the gift of God;

no man attaineth to them by human working,

or only by the talk of them.


All that I know very well,

for a man can receive nothing except it be given him from heaven;

I could give you a hundred scriptures for the confirmation of this.




said Faithful,

"what is that one thing that we shall at this time found our talk upon?"


What you will.

I will talk of things heavenly or things earthly;

things in life or things in the gospel;

things sacred or things worldly;

things past or things to come;

things foreign or things at home;

things necessary or things accidental,

provided that all be done to our profit.


Now did Faithful begin to wonder;


stepping to Christian (for he walked all this while by himself),

he said to him,

but softly,

"What a brave companion have we got!

Surely this man will make a very excellent pilgrim."



At this Christian modestly smiled,

and said,

"This man with whom you are so taken will deceive with this tongue of his twenty of them that know him not."


Do you know him,



Know him?


better than he knows himself.


Pray what is he?


His name is Talkative;

he dwelleth in our town.

I wonder that you should be a stranger to him: only I consider that our town is large.


Whose son is he?

and whereabout doth he dwell?


He is the son of one Say-well.

He dwelt in Prating Row,

and is known to all that are acquainted with him by the name of Talkative of Prating Row;

and notwithstanding his fine tongue,

he is but a sorry fellow.



he seems to be a very pretty man.


That is,

to them that have not a thorough acquaintance with him,

for he is best abroad;

near home he is ugly enough.

Your saying that he is a pretty man brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of the painter,

whose pictures show best at a distance,

but very near more unpleasing.


But I am ready to think you do but jest,

because you smiled.


God forbid that I should jest (though I smiled) in this matter,

or that I should accuse any falsely.

I will give you a further discovery of him.

This man is for any company,

and for any talk.

As he talketh now with you,

so will he talk when he is on the ale-bench;

and the more drink he hath in his crown,

the more of these things he hath in his mouth.

Religion hath no place in his heart,

or house,

or conversation: all he hath lieth in his tongue,

and his religion is to make a noise therewith.


Say you so?

Then am I in this man greatly deceived.



you may be sure of it.

Remember the proverb,

"They say,

and do not;"

but the kingdom of God is not in word,

but in power.

He talketh of prayer,

of turning to God,

of faith,

and of the new birth;

but he knows but only to talk of them.

I have been in his family,

and have seen him both at home and abroad,

and I know what I say of him is the truth.

His house is as empty of religion as the white of an egg is of savor.

There is there neither prayer nor sign of turning from sin;


the brute,

in his kind,

serves God far better than he.

He is the very stain,


and shame of religion to all that know him.

It can hardly have a good word in all that end of the town where he dwells,

through him.

Thus say the common people that know him:

"A saint abroad,

and a devil at home."

His poor family finds it so: he is such a fault-finder,

such a railer at,

and so unreasonable with his servants,

that they neither know how to do for or speak to him.

Men that have any dealings with him say,

it is better to deal with a Turk than with him,

for fairer dealing they shall have at their hands.

This Talkative,

if it be possible,

will go beyond them,



and overreach them.


he brings up his sons to follow his steps;


if he findeth in any of them a foolish timorousness (for so he calls the first appearance of a tender conscience),

he calls them fools and blockheads,

and by no means will employ them in much,

or speak to their commendation before others.

For my part,

I am of opinion that he has,

by his wicked life,

caused many to stumble and fall,

and will be,

if God prevent not,

the ruin of many more.



my brother,

I am bound to believe you,

not only because you say you know him,

but also because like a Christian you make your reports of men.

For I cannot think you speak these things of ill-will,

but because it is even so as you say.


Had I known him no more than you,

I might,


have thought of him as at first you did;


had he received this report only from those that are enemies to religion,

I should have thought it had been a slander,

a lot that often falls from bad men's mouths upon good men's names and professions.

But all these things,


and a great many more as bad,

of my own knowledge I can prove him guilty of.


good men are ashamed of him: they can neither call him brother nor friend;

the very naming of him among them makes them blush,

if they know him.



I see that saying and doing are two things,

and hereafter I shall better observe the difference between them.


They are two things,


and are as diverse as are the soul and the body;


as the body without the soul is but a dead carcase,

so _saying_,

if it be alone,

is but a dead carcase also.

The soul of religion is the practical part.

"Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this,

to visit the fatherless and the widows in their affliction,

and to keep himself unspotted from the world."


Talkative is not aware of: he thinks that hearing and saying will make a good Christian,

and thus he deceiveth his own soul.

Hearing is but as the sowing of the seed;

talking is not sufficient to prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life.

And let us assure ourselves that,

at the day of doom,

men shall be judged according to their fruits.



I was not so fond of his company at first,

but I am as sick of it now.

What shall we do to be rid of him?


Take my advice,

and do as I bid you,

and you shall find that he will soon be sick of your company too,

except God shall touch his heart and turn it.


What would you have me to do?



go to him,

and enter into some serious conversation about the power of religion and ask him plainly (when he has approved of it,

for that he will) whether this thing be set up in his heart,

house or conduct.


Then Faithful stepped forward again,

and said to Talkative,


what cheer?

How is it now?"


Thank you,

well: I thought we should have had a great deal of talk by this time.



if you will,

we will fall to it now;


since you left it with me to state the question,

let it be this: How doth the saving grace of God show itself when it is in the heart of man?


I perceive,


that our talk must be about the power of things.


it is a very good question,

and I shall be willing to answer you.

And take my answer in brief,



where the grace of God is in the heart,

it causeth there a great outcry against sin.






let us consider of one at once.

I think you should rather say,

it shows itself by inclining the soul to hate its sin.



what difference is there between crying out against and hating sin?



a great deal.

A man may cry out against sin in order to appear good;

but he cannot hate it except by a real dislike for it.

I have heard many cry out against sin in the pulpit,

who yet can abide it well enough in the heart,


and life.

Some cry out against sin,

even as the mother cries out against her child in her lap,

when she calleth it a naughty girl,

and then falls to hugging and kissing it.


You are trying to catch me,

I perceive.



not I;

I am only for setting things right.

But what is the second thing whereby you would prove a discovery of a work of God in the heart?


Great knowledge of hard things in the Bible.



This sign should have been first;


first or last,

it is also false;

for knowledge,

great knowledge,

may be obtained in the mysteries of the Gospel,

and yet no work of grace in the soul.


if a man have all knowledge,

he may yet be nothing,

and so,


be no child of God.

When Christ said,

"Do ye know all these things?"

and the disciples had answered,


He added,

"Blessed are ye if ye do them."

He doth not lay the blessing in the knowledge of them,

but in the doing of them.

For there is a knowledge that is not attended with doing:

"He that knoweth his master's will,

and doeth it not."

A man may know like an angel,

and yet be no Christian;

therefore your sign of it is not true.


to know,

is a thing that pleaseth talkers and boasters;

but to do is that which pleaseth God.


You are trying to catch me again: this is not profitable.



if you please,

name another sign how this work of grace showeth itself where it is.


Not I;

for I see we shall not agree.



if you will not,

will you give me leave to do it?


You may say what you please.


God's work in the soul showeth itself either to him that hath it or to standers by.

To him that has it,

it is shown by making him see and feel his own sins.

To others who are standing by it is shown by his life,

a life of doing right in the sight of God.

And now,


as to this brief account of the work of grace,

and also the showing of it,

if you have aught to object,


if not,

then give me leave to ask you a second question.



my part is not now to object,

but to hear;

let me,


have your second question.


It is this: Have you felt your own sins,

and have you turned from them?

And do your life and conduct show it the same?

Or is your religion in word or in tongue,

and not in deed and truth?


if you incline to answer me in this,

say no more than you know the God above will say Amen to,

and also nothing but what your conscience can approve you in;

for not he that commendeth himself is approved,

but whom the Lord commendeth.


to say I am thus and thus,

when my conduct and all my neighbors tell me I lie,

is great wickedness.


Then Talkative at first began to blush;


recovering himself,

thus he replied:

"This kind of discourse I did not expect;

nor am I disposed to give an answer to such questions,

because I count not myself bound thereto,

unless you take upon you to be a questioner;

and though you should do so,

yet I may refuse to make you my judge.


I pray,

will you tell me why you ask me such questions?"


Because I saw you forward to talk,

and because I knew not that you had aught else but notion.


to tell you all the truth,

I have heard of you that you are a man whose religion lies in talk,

and that your life gives this your mouth-profession the lie.

They say you are a spot among Christians,

and that religion fareth the worse for your ungodly conduct;

that some already have stumbled at your wicked ways,

and that more are in danger of being destroyed thereby: your religion,

and an alehouse,

and greed for gain,

and uncleanness,

and swearing,

and lying,

and vain company-keeping,


will stand together.

You are a shame to all who are members of the church.


Since you are ready to take up reports,

and to judge so rashly as you do,

I cannot but conclude you are some peevish or cross man,

not fit to be talked with;

and so adieu.


Then came up Christian,

and said to his brother,

"I told you how it would happen;

your words and his heart could not agree.

He had rather leave your company than reform his life.

But he is gone,

as I said: let him go;

the loss is no man's but his own: he has saved us the trouble of going from him;

for he continuing (as I suppose he will do) as he is,

he would have been but a blot in our company.


the Apostle says,

'From such withdraw thyself.'"


But I am glad we had this little talk with him;

it may happen that he will think of it again: however,

I have dealt plainly with him,

and so am clear of his blood,

if he perisheth.


You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did.

There is but little of this faithful dealing with men now-a-days;

and that makes religion to be despised by so many;

for they are these talkative fools,

whose religion is only in word,

and are vile and vain in their life,


being so much admitted into the fellowship of the godly,

do puzzle the world,

blemish Christianity,

and grieve the sincere.

I wish that all men would deal with such as you have done;

then should they either be made more suitable to religion,

or the company of saints would be too hot for them.


Then did Faithful say,

"How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes!

How bravely doth he speak!

How he presumes To drive down all before him!

But so soon As Faithful talks of heart-work,

like the moon That's past the full,

into the wane he goes;

And so will all but he who heart-work knows."

Thus they went on,

talking of what they had seen by the way,

and so made that way easy,

which would otherwise,

no doubt,

have been tedious to them;

for now they went through a wilderness.



when they were got almost quite out of this wilderness,

Faithful chanced to cast his eye back,

and espied one coming after him,

and he knew him.


said Faithful to his brother,

"who comes yonder?"

Then Christian looked,

and said,

"It is my good friend Evangelist."


and my good friend,


said Faithful;

"for it was he that set me the way to the gate."

Now was Evangelist come up unto them,

and thus saluted them:


Peace be with you,

dearly beloved,

and peace be to your helpers.




my good Evangelist: the sight of thy face brings to my thought thy former kindness and unwearied laboring for my eternal good.


"And a thousand times welcome,"

said good Faithful:

"thy company,

O sweet Evangelist,

how desirable is it to us poor pilgrims!"


Then said Evangelist,

"How hath it fared with you,

my friends,

since the time of our last parting?

What have you met with,

and how have you behaved yourselves?"

Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things that had happened to them in the way;

and how,

and with what difficulty,

they had arrived to that place.


"Right glad am I,"

said Evangelist,

"not that you met with trials,

but that you have been victors,

and for that you have,

notwithstanding many weaknesses,

continued in the way to this very day.

I say,

right glad am I of this thing,

and that for my own sake and yours.

I have sowed,

and you have reaped;

and the day is coming when

'both he that sowed and they that reaped shall rejoice together;'

that is,

if you faint not.

The crown is before you,

and it is an uncorruptible one: so run that you may obtain it.

Some there be that set out for this crown,

and after they have gone far for it,

another comes in and takes it from them:

'Hold fast,


that you have;

let no man take your crown.'"

Then Christian thanked him for his words,

but told him withal that they would have him speak further to them,

for their help the rest of the way;

and the rather,

for that they well knew that he was a prophet,

and could tell them of things that might happen unto them,

and also how they might resist and overcome them.

To which request Faithful also consented.

So Evangelist began as followeth:



My sons,

you have heard,

in the words of the truth of the Gospel,

that you must "through many trials enter into the kingdom of heaven;"

and again,

that "in every city bonds and afflictions await you;"

and therefore you cannot expect that you should go long on your pilgrimage without them in some sort or other.

You have found something of the truth of these words upon you already,

and more will immediately follow;

for now,

as you see,

you are almost out of this wilderness,

and therefore you will soon come into a town that you will by-and-by see before you;

and in that town you will be hardly beset with enemies who will strain hard but they will kill you;

and be you sure that one or both of you must seal the truth which you hold with blood: but be you faithful unto death,

and the King will give you a crown of life.

He that shall die there,

although his death will be unnatural,

and his pain,



he will yet have the better of his fellow;

not only because he will be arrived at the Celestial City soonest,

but because he will escape many miseries that the other will meet with in the rest of his journey.

But when you are come to the town,

and shall find fulfilled what I have here related,

then remember your friend,

and quit yourselves like men,

and commit the keeping of your souls to God in well-doing,

as unto a faithful Creator.


Then I saw in my dream,


when they were got out of the wilderness,

they presently saw a town before them,

and the name of that town is Vanity;

and at the town there is a fair kept,

called Vanity Fair.

It is kept all the year long.

It beareth the name of Vanity Fair,

because the town where it is kept is lighter than vanity,

and also because all that is there sold,

or that cometh thither,

is vanity;

as is the saying of the Wise,

"All that cometh is vanity."

This is no newly begun business,

but a thing of ancient standing.

I will show you the original of it.

Almost five thousand years ago,

there were pilgrims walking to the Celestial City,

as these two honest persons are;

and Beelzebub,


and Legion,

with their companions,

perceiving by the path that the pilgrims made that their way to the city lay through this town of Vanity,

they contrived here to set up a fair;

a fair wherein should be sold all sorts of vanity,

and that it should last all the year long.

Therefore at this fair are all such things sold as houses,











and delights of all sorts,

as wives,












precious stones,

and what not.



at this fair there are at all times to be seen jugglings,







and rogues,

and that of every kind.

Here are to be seen,


and that for nothing,



false swearers,

and that of a blood-red color.


as in other fairs of less moment there are several rows and streets under their proper names,

where such and such wares are vended;

so here likewise you have the proper places,


streets (namely,

countries and kingdoms),

where the wares of this fair are soonest to be found.

Here are the Britain Row,

the French Row,

the Italian Row,

the Spanish Row,

the German Row,

where several sorts of vanities are to be sold.


as in other fairs some one commodity is as the chief of all the fair,

so the ware of Rome and her goods are greatly promoted in this fair;

only our English nation,

with some others,

have taken dislike thereat.


as I said,

the way to the Celestial City lies just through this town where this lusty fair is kept;

and he that would go to the city,

and yet not go through this town,

"must needs go out of the world."

The Prince of princes Himself,

when here,

went through this town to His own country,

and that upon a fair day too;


and as I think,

it was Beelzebub,

the chief lord of this fair,

that invited Him to buy of his vanities;


would have made Him lord of the fair,

would He but have done him reverence as He went through the town.


because He was such a person of honor,

Beelzebub had Him from street to street,

and showed Him all the kingdoms of the world in a little time,

that he might,

if possible,

allure that Blessed One to ask for and buy some of his vanities;

but He had no mind to the merchandise,

and therefore left the town without laying out so much as one farthing upon these vanities.

This fair,


is an ancient thing of long-standing,

and a very great fair.


these pilgrims,

as I said,

must needs go through this fair.


so they did;



even as they entered into the fair,

all the people in the fair were moved and the town itself,

as it were,

in a hubbub about them,

and that for several reasons;



--The pilgrims were clothed with such kind of garments as were different from the raiment of any that traded in that fair.

The people,


of the fair,

made a great gazing upon them: some said they were fools;


they were bedlams;

and some,

they were outlandish men.



as they wondered at their apparel,

so they did likewise at their speech;

for few could understand what they said.

They naturally spoke the language of Canaan;

but they that kept the fair were the men of this world.

So that from one end of the fair to the other,

they seemed barbarians each to the other.


--But that which did not a little amuse the store-keepers was,

that these pilgrims set very light by all their wares.

They cared not so much as to look upon them;

and if they called upon them to buy,

they would put their fingers in their ears,

and cry,

"Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity,"

and look upwards,

signifying that their trade and traffic were in heaven.

One chanced,


beholding the actions of the men,

to say unto them,

"What will you buy?"

But they,

looking gravely upon him,


"We buy the truth."

At that there was an occasion taken to despise the men the more: some mocking,

some taunting,

some speaking reproachfully,

and some calling on others to smite them.

At last things came to a hubbub and great stir in the fair,

insomuch that all order was confounded.

Now was word presently brought to the great one of the fair,

who quickly came down,

and deputed some of his most trusty friends to take these men for trial about whom the fair was almost overturned.

So the men were brought to trial,

and they that sat upon them asked them whence they came,

whither they went,

and what they did there in such an unusual garb.

The men told them that they were pilgrims and strangers in the world,

and that they were going to their own country,

which was the heavenly Jerusalem,

and that they had given no occasion to the men of the town,

nor yet to the merchants,

thus to abuse them,

and to hinder them in their journey,

except it was for that,

when one asked them what they would buy,

they said they would buy the truth.

But they that were appointed to examine them did not believe them to be any other than crazy people and mad,

or else such as came to put all things into a confusion in the fair.

Therefore they took them and beat them,

and besmeared them with dirt,

and then put them into the cage,

that they might be made a spectacle to all the men of the fair.



they lay for some time,

and were made the objects of any man's sport,

or malice,

or revenge;

the great one of the fair laughing still at all that befell them.


the men being patient,

and "not rendering railing for railing,

but contrariwise blessing,"

and giving good words for bad,

and kindness for injuries done,

some men in the fair that were more observing and less opposed than the rest,

began to check and blame the baser sort for their continual abuses done by them to the men.



in an angry manner,

let fly at them again,

counting them as bad as the men in the cage,

and telling them that they seemed to be in league with them,

and should be made partakers of their misfortunes.

The others replied,


for aught they could see,

the men were quiet and sober,

and intended nobody any harm;

and that there were many that traded in their fair that were more worthy to be put into the cage,


and pillory too,

than were the men that they had abused.


after divers words had passed on both sides (the men behaving themselves all the while very wisely and soberly before them,) they fell to some blows,

and did harm to one another.

Then were these two poor men brought before the court again,

and there charged as being guilty of the late hubbub that had been in the fair.

So they beat them pitifully,

and hanged irons upon them,

and led them in chains up and down the fair,

for an example and terror to others,

lest any should speak in their behalf,

or join themselves unto them.

But Christian and Faithful behaved themselves yet more wisely,

and received the wrongs and shame that were cast upon them with so much meekness and patience,

that it won to their side (though but few in comparison of the rest) several of the men in the fair.

This put the other party in yet a greater rage,

insomuch that they resolved upon the death of these two men.

Wherefore they threatened that neither cage nor irons should serve their turn,

but that they should die for the abuse they had done,

and for deceiving the men of the fair.


Then were they remanded to the cage again,

until further order should be taken with them.

So they put them in,

and made their feet fast in the stocks.



they called again to mind what they had heard from their faithful friend Evangelist,

and were more confirmed in their way and sufferings,

by what he told them would happen to them.

They also now comforted each other,

that whose lot it was to suffer,

even he should have the best of it;

therefore each man secretly wished he might have that privilege.


committing themselves to the all-wise disposal of Him that ruleth all things,

with much content they abode in the condition in which they were,

until they should be otherwise disposed of.

[Sidenote: LORD HATE-GOOD]

Then a convenient time being appointed,

they brought them forth to their trial,

in order to their being condemned.

When the time was come,

they were brought before their enemies,

and placed on trial.

The judge's name was Lord Hate-good: the charges against both were one and the same in substance,

though somewhat varying in form;

the contents whereof were this:

"That they were enemies to and disturbers of their trade;

that they had made riots and divisions in the town,

and had won a party to their own most dangerous opinions,

in contempt of the law of their prince."

Then Faithful began to answer,

that he had only set himself against that which had set itself against Him that is higher than the highest.


said he,

"as for disturbances,

I make none,

being myself a man of peace;

the parties that were won to us,

were won by beholding our truth and innocence,

and they are only turned from the worse to the better.


as to the king you talk of,

since he is Beelzebub,

the enemy of our Lord,

I defy him and all his angels."


Then it was made known that they that had aught to say for their lord the king against the prisoner at the bar should forthwith appear and give in their evidence.

So there came in three witnesses;

to wit,



and Pickthank.

They were then asked if they knew the prisoner at the bar,

and what they had to say for their lord the king against him.

Then stood forth Envy,

and said to this effect:

"My lord,

I have known this man a long time,

and will attest upon my oath before this honorable bench that he is --"



Give him his oath.


So they sware him.

Then said he,

"My lord,

this man,

notwithstanding his name,

Faithful is one of the vilest men in our country.

He cares for neither prince nor people,

law nor custom,

but doth all that he can to possess all men with certain of his disloyal notions,

which he in the general calls principles of faith and holiness.

And in particular,

I heard him once myself affirm that Christianity and the customs of our town of Vanity were opposite,

and could not be reconciled.

By which saying,

my lord,

he doth at once not only condemn all our laudable doings,

but us in the doing of them."


Then did the judge say to him,

"Hast thou any more to say?"


My lord,

I could say much more,

only I would not be tiresome to the court.


if need be,

when the other gentlemen have given in their evidence,

rather than anything shall be wanting that will dispatch him,

I will have more to speak against him.

So he was bid stand by.

Then they called Superstition,

and bade him look upon the prisoner.

They also asked what he could say for their lord the king against him.

Then they sware him: so he began:


My lord,

I have no great acquaintance with this man,

nor do I desire to have further knowledge of him.


this I know,

that he is a very pestilent fellow,

from some discourse the other day that I had with him in this town;

for then,

talking with him,

I heard him say that our religion was naught,

and such by which a man could by no means please God.

Which saying of his,

my lord,

your lordship very well knows what necessarily thence will follow;

to wit,

that we still do worship in vain,

are yet in our sins,

and finally shall be destroyed: and this is that which I have to say.

Then was Pickthank sworn,

and bid say what he knew,

in behalf of their lord the king,

against the prisoner at the bar.


My lord,

and you gentlemen all,

this fellow I have known a long time,

and have heard him speak things that ought not to be spoken,

for he hath railed on our noble prince Beelzebub,

and hath spoken contemptuously of his honorable friends,

whose names are,

the Lord Old-man,

the Lord Carnal-Delight,

the Lord Luxurious,

the Lord Desire-of-Vain-Glory,

my old Lord Lust,

Sir Having Greedy,

with all the rest of our nobility and he hath said,



if all men were of his mind,

if possible there is not one of these noblemen should have any longer a being in this town.


he has not been afraid to rail on you,

my lord,

who are now appointed to be his judge,

calling you an ungodly villain,

with many other such-like abusive terms,

with which he hath bespattered most of the gentry of our town.


When this Pickthank had told his tale,

the judge directed his speech to the prisoner at the bar,


"Thou runagate,


and traitor!

hast thou heard what these honest gentlemen have witnessed against thee?"


May I speak a few words in my own defense?




thou deservest to live no longer,

but to be slain immediately upon the place;


that all men may see our gentleness towards thee,

let us hear what thou,

vile runagate,

hast to say.



I say,


in answer to what Mr. Envy hath spoken,

I have never said aught but this,

that what rule,

or laws,

or custom,

or people were flat against the Word of God,

are opposite to Christianity.

If I have said amiss in this,

convince me of my error,

and I am ready here before you to take back my words.

2. As to the second,

to wit,

Mr. Superstition and his charge against me,

I said only this,

that in the worship of God there is required true faith.

But there can be no true faith without a knowledge of the will of God.


whatever is thrust into the worship of God that is not agreeable to the word of God will not profit to eternal life.

3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said,

I say (avoiding terms,

as that I am said to rail,

and the like),

that the prince of this town,

with all the rabblement his attendants,

by this gentleman named,

are more fit for a being in hell than in this town and country.

And so the Lord have mercy upon me!

Then the judge called to the jury (who all this while stood by to hear and observe),

"Gentlemen of the jury,

you see this man about whom so great an uproar hath been made in this town;

you have also heard what these worthy gentlemen have witnessed against him;

also you have heard his reply and confession.

It lieth now in your breast to hang him or to save his life;

but yet I think meet to instruct you into our law.

"There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh,

the great servant to our prince,


lest those of a contrary religion should multiply and grow too strong for him,

their males should be thrown into the river.

There was also an act made in the days of Nebuchadnezzar the Great,

another of his servants,

that whoever would not fall down and worship his golden image should be thrown into a fiery furnace.

There was also an act made in the days of Darius,

that whoso for some time called upon any god but him should be cast into the lions' den.


the substance of these laws this rebel has broken,

not only in thought (which is not to be borne,) but also in word and deed,

which must,


needs be intolerable.

You see he disputeth against our religion;

and for the reason that he hath confessed he deserveth to die the death."


Then went the jury out,

whose names were Mr. Blind-man,

Mr. No-good,

Mr. Malice,

Mr. Love-lust,

Mr. Live-loose,

Mr. Heady,

Mr. High-mind,

Mr. Enmity,

Mr. Liar,

Mr. Cruelty,

Mr. Hate-light,

and Mr. Implacable,

who every one gave in his private voice against him among themselves,

and afterwards unanimously concluded to bring him in guilty before the Judge.

And first among themselves,

Mr. Blind-man,

the foreman,


"I see clearly that this man is a heretic."

Then said Mr. No-good,

"Away with such a fellow from the earth!"


said Mr. Malice,

"for I hate the very look of him."

Then said Mr. Love-lust,

"I could never endure him."

"Nor I,"

said Mr. Live-loose;

"for he would always be condemning my way."

"Hang him,

hang him!"

said Mr. Heady.

"A sorry scrub,"

said Mr. High-mind.

"My heart riseth against him,"

said Mr. Enmity.

"He is a rogue,"

said Mr. Liar.

"Hanging is too good for him,"

said Mr. Cruelty.

"Let us dispatch him out of the way,"

said Mr. Hate-light.

Then said Mr. Implacable,

"Might I have all the world given to me,

I could not be reconciled to him;

therefore let us forthwith bring him in guilty of death."

And so they did: therefore he was presently condemned to be had from the place where he was,

to the place from whence he came,

and there to be put to the most cruel death that could be invented.

They therefore brought him out,

to do with him according to their law;

and first they scourged him,

then they buffeted him,

then they lanced his flesh with knives;

after that they stoned him with stones,

then pricked him with their swords,


last of all,

they burned him to ashes at the stake.

Thus came Faithful to his end.


I saw that there stood behind the multitude a chariot and a couple of horses waiting for Faithful,

who (so soon as his enemies had slain him) was taken up into it,

and straightway was carried up through the clouds with sound of trumpet the nearest way to the Celestial Gate.

But as for Christian,

he had some delay,

and was sent back to prison;

so he there remained for a space.

But He who overrules all things,

having the power of their rage in his own hand,

so wrought it about that Christian for that time escaped them,

and went his way.

And as he went,

he sang,




thou hast faithfully professed Unto thy Lord,

with whom thou shalt be blest,

When faithless ones,

with all their vain delights,

Are crying out under their hellish plights.




and let thy name survive;

For though they killed thee,

thou art yet alive."

[Illustration: Hopeful and Christian.

Page 120]



I saw in my dream,

that Christian went forth not alone;

for there was one whose name was Hopeful (being so made by looking upon Christian and Faithful in their words and behavior in their sufferings at the fair,) who joined himself unto him,


entering into a brotherly pledge told him that he would be his companion.

Thus one died to show faithfulness to the truth,

and another rises out of his ashes to be a companion with Christian in his pilgrimage.

This Hopeful also told Christian that there were many more of the men in the fair that would take their time and follow after.


So I saw that,

quickly after they were got out of the fair,

they overtook one that was going before them,

whose name was By-ends;

so they said to him,

"What countryman,


and how far go you this way?"

He told them that he came from the town of Fair-speech,

and he was going to the Celestial City;

but told them not his name.


"From Fair-speech!

are there any that be good live there?"



said By-ends,

"I hope."




what may I call you?


I am a stranger to you,

and you to me: if you be going this way,

I shall be glad of your company;

if not,

I must be content.


This town of Fair-speech,

I have heard of it;


as I remember,

they say it's a wealthy place.



I will assure you that it is;

and I have very many rich kindred there.



who are your kindred there?

if a man may be so bold.


Almost the whole town;

but in particular my Lord Turnabout,

my Lord Timeserver,

my Lord Fair-speech,

from whose ancestors that town first took its name;

also Mr. Smooth-man,

Mr. Facing-both-ways,

Mr. Anything;

and the parson of our parish,

Mr. Two-tongues,

was my mother's own brother by father's side;

and to tell you the truth,

I am become a gentleman of good quality;

yet my great-grandfather was but a waterman,

looking one way and rowing another,

and I got most of my estate by the same occupation.


Are you a married man?



and my wife is a very virtuous woman,

the daughter of a virtuous woman;

she was my Lady Feigning's daughter: therefore she came of a very honorable family,

and is arrived to such a pitch of breeding,

that she knows how to carry it to all,

even to prince and peasant.

'Tis true we somewhat differ in religion from those of the stricter sort,

yet but in two small points: First,

we never strive against wind and tide;


we are always most zealous when Religion is well dressed and goes in his silver slippers: we love much to walk with him in the street if the sun shines and the people praise him.

Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow Hopeful,


"It runs in my mind that this is one By-ends,

of Fair-speech;

and if it be he,

we have as very a knave in our company as dwelleth in all these parts."

Then said Hopeful,

"Ask him;

methinks he should not be ashamed of his name."

So Christian came up with him again,

and said,


you talk as if you knew something more than all the world doth;

and if I take not my mark amiss,

I deem I have half a guess of you.

Is not your name Mr. By-ends,

of Fair-speech?"


This is not my name;



it is a nickname that is given me by some that cannot abide me,

and I must be content to bear it as a reproach,

as other good men have borne theirs before me.


But did you never give an occasion to men to call you by this name?




The worst that ever I did to give them an occasion to give me this name was,

that I had always the luck to jump in my judgment with the present way of the times,

whatever it was,

and my chance was to gain thereby.

But if things are thus cast upon me,

let me count them a blessing;

but let not the malicious load me therefore with reproach.


I thought,


that you were the man that I heard of;


to tell you what I think,

I fear this name belongs to you more properly than you are willing we should think it doth.



if you will thus imagine,

I cannot help it: you shall find me a fair company-keeper if you still admit me your companion.


If you will go with us,

you must go against wind and tide;

the which,

I perceive,

is against your opinion;

you must also own Religion in his rags,

as well as when in his silver slippers;

and stand by him,


when bound in irons,

as well as when he walketh the streets with applause.


You must not impose or lord it over my faith;

leave it to my liberty,

and let me go with you.


Not a step farther,

unless you will do in what I declare as we do.


Then said By-ends,

"I never desert my old principles,

since they are harmless and profitable.

If I may not go with you,

I must do as I did before you overtook me,

even go by myself,

until some overtake me that will be glad of my company."



I saw in my dream that Christian and Hopeful forsook him,

and kept their distance before him;

but one of them,

looking back,

saw three men following Mr. By-ends;



as they came up with him,

he made them a very low bow,

and they also gave him a compliment.

The men's names were Mr. Hold-the-world,

Mr. Money-love,

and Mr. Save-all;

men that Mr. By-ends had been formerly acquainted with;

for in their boyhood they were schoolfellows,

and taught by one Mr. Gripe-man a schoolmaster in Love-gain,

which is a market town in the county of Coveting,

in the North.

This schoolmaster taught them the art of getting,

either by violence,




or by putting on a pretence of religion;

and these four gentlemen had learned much of the art of their master,

so that they could each of them have kept such a school themselves.


when they had,

as I said,

thus saluted each other,

Mr. Money-love said to Mr. By-ends,

"Who are they upon the road before us?"

for Christian and Hopeful were yet within view.


They are a couple of far countrymen,


after their mode,

are going on pilgrimage.



why did they not stay,

that we might have had their good company?

for they,

and we,

and you,


I hope,

are all going on pilgrimage.


We are so,


but the men before us are so rigid,

and love so much their own notions,

and do also so lightly esteem the opinions of others,


let a man be ever so godly,


if he agrees not with them in all things,

they thrust him quite out of their company.


That is bad;

but we read of some that are righteous overmuch,

and such men's rigidness makes them to judge and condemn all but themselves.

But I pray,

what and how many were the things wherein you differed?




after their headstrong manner conclude that it is their duty to rush on their journey all weathers;

and I am for waiting for wind and tide.

They are for taking the risk of all for God at a clap;

and I am for taking all advantages to secure my life and property.

They are for holding their notions,

though all other men be against them;

but I am for religion in what and so far as,

the times and my safety will bear it.

They are for Religion when in rags and contempt;

but I am for him when he walks in his golden slippers,

in the sunshine,

and with applause.



and hold you there still,

good Mr. By-ends;


for my part,

I can count him but a fool,


having the liberty to keep what he has,

shall be so unwise as to lose it.

Let us be wise as serpents.

It is best to make hay while the sun shines.

You see how the bee lieth still all winter,

and bestirs her only when she can have profit and pleasure.

God sends sometimes rain and sometimes sunshine;

if they be such fools to go through the rain,

yet let us be content to take fair weather along with us.

For my part,

I like that religion best that will stand with the safety of God's good blessings unto us;

for who can imagine,

that is ruled by his reason,

since God has bestowed upon us the good things of this life,

but that He would have us keep them for His sake?

Abraham and Solomon grew rich in religion;

and Job says that "a good man should lay up gold as dust;"

but he must not be such as the men before us,

if they be as you have described them.


I think that we are all agreed in this matter,

and therefore there needs no more words about it.



there needs no more words about this matter,


for he that believes neither Scripture nor reason (and you see we have both on our side),

neither knows his own liberty nor seeks his own safety.

And so these four men,

Mr. By-ends,

Mr. Money-love,

Mr. Save-all,

and old Mr. Hold-the-world,

walked on together,

while Christian and Hopeful were far in advance.


Then Christian and Hopeful went on till they came to a delicate plain,

called Ease,

where they went with much content;

but that plain was but narrow,

so they were quickly got over it.

Now at the farther side of that plain was a little hill,

called Lucre,[4] and in that hill a silver mine,

which some of them that had formerly gone that way,

because of the rarity of it,

had turned aside to see;

but going too near the brink of the pit,

the ground,

being deceitful under them,


and they were slain;

some also had been maimed there,

and could not to their dying day be their own men again.

[4] An old word meaning "money" or "riches."

Then I saw in my dream that a little off the road,

over against the silver mine,

stood Demas (gentleman-like) to call to passengers to come and see;

who said to Christian and his fellow,


turn aside hither,

and I will show you a thing."


What thing so deserving as to turn us out of the way?


Here is a silver mine,

and some digging in it for treasure;

if you will come,

with a little pains you may richly provide for yourselves.


Then said Hopeful,

"Let us go see."


"Not I,"

said Christian.

"I have heard of this place before now,

and how many have there been slain;

and besides,

that treasure is a snare to those that seek it,

for it hindereth them in their pilgrimage."


Then Christian called to Demas,


"Is not the place dangerous?

Hath it not hindered many in their pilgrimage?"


Not very dangerous,

except to those that are careless.

But withal,

he blushed as he spake.


Then said Christian to Hopeful,

"Let us not stir a step,

but still keep on our way."


I will warrant you,

when By-ends comes up,

if he hath the same invitation as we,

he will turn in thither to see.


No doubt thereof,

for his principles lead him that way;

and a hundred to one but he dies there.


Then Demas called out again,


"But will you not come over and see?"


Then Christian roundly answered,



thou art an enemy to the right ways of the Lord of this way,

and hast been already condemned for thine own turning aside,

by one of His Majesty's judges;

and why seekest thou to have us condemned also?


if we at all turn aside,

our Lord the King will certainly hear thereof,

and will there put us to shame where we should stand with boldness before Him."

Demas cried again that he also was one of their company,

a pilgrim like themselves,

and that,

if they would tarry a little,

he also himself would walk with them.


Then said Christian,

"What is thy name?

Is it not the same by the which I have called thee?"



my name is Demas;

I am the son of Abraham.


I know you: Gehazi was your great-grandfather,

and Judas your father,

and you have trod in their steps.

It is but a devilish prank that thou usest: thy father was hanged for a traitor,

and thou deservest no better reward.

Assure thyself that when we come to the King,

we will tell him of this thy behavior.

Thus they went their way.

By this time By-ends and his companions were come again within sight,

and they at the first beck went over to Demas.


whether they fell into the pit by looking over the brink thereof,

or whether they went down to dig,

or whether they were smothered in the bottom by the damps that commonly arise,

of these things I am not certain;

but this I observed,

that they never were seen again in the way.

Then sang Christian:

"By-ends and silver Demas both agree;

One calls;

the other runs,

that he may be A sharer in his lucre;

so these two Take up in this world,

and no farther go."


I saw that just on the other side of the plain the pilgrims came to a place where stood an old monument hard by the highway-side;

at the sight of which they were both concerned,

because of the strangeness of the form thereof;

for it seemed to them as if it had been a woman changed into the shape of a pillar.



they stood looking and looking upon it,

but could not for a time tell what they should make thereof.

At last Hopeful espied written above,

upon the head thereof,

a writing in an unusual hand;

but he,

being no scholar,

called to Christian (for he was learned,) to see if he could pick out the meaning;

so he came,

and after a little laying of letters together,

he found the same to be this,

"Remember Lot's wife."

So he read it to his fellow;

after which,

they both concluded that that was the pillar of salt into which Lot's wife was turned,

for her looking back with a covetous heart when she was going from Sodom.

Which sudden and amazing sight gave them occasion for speaking thus:



my brother!

this is a seasonable sight.

It came just in time to us after the invitation which Demas gave us to come over to view the hill Lucre;


had we gone over,

as he desired us,

and as thou wast inclining to do,

my brother,

we had,

for aught I know,

been made ourselves,

like this woman,

a spectacle for those that shall come after to behold.


I am sorry that I was so foolish,

and am made to wonder that I am not now as Lot's wife;

for wherein was the difference betwixt her sin and mine?

She only looked back,

and I had a desire to go see.

Let God's goodness be praised;

and let me be ashamed that ever such a thing should be in mine heart.


Let us take notice of what we see here,

for our help for time to come.

This woman escaped one judgment,

for she fell not by the destruction of Sodom;

yet she was destroyed by another,

as we see: she is turned into a pillar of salt.


What a mercy is it that neither thou,

but especially I,

am not made myself this example!

This gives reason to us to thank God,

to fear before Him and always to remember Lot's wife.


I saw,


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 this river;



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.


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 ate to prevent illness,

especially such diseases that come 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 they lay down again to sleep.

This they did several days and nights.

Then they sang:

"Behold ye,

how these crystal streams do glide,

To comfort pilgrims by the highway-side;

The meadows green,

besides their fragrant smell,

Yield dainties for them;

and he who can tell What pleasant fruit,



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 ate and drank,

and departed.


I beheld in my dream that they had not journeyed far,

but the river and the way for a time parted,

at which they were not a little sorry;

yet they durst not go out of the way.

Now the way from the river was rough,

and their feet tender by reason of their travels;

so the souls of the pilgrims were much discouraged because of the way.


still as they went on they wished for a better way.


a little before them there was,

on the left hand of the road,

a meadow,

and a stile to go over into it,

and that meadow is called By-path Meadow.

Then said Christian to his fellow,

"If this meadow lieth along by our wayside,

let's go over 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.

"It is according to my wish,"

said Christian;

"here is the easiest going.


good Hopeful,

and let us go over."


But how if this path should lead us out of the way?



"That is not likely,"

said the other.


doth it not go along by the wayside?"

So Hopeful,

being persuaded by his fellow,

went after him over the stile.

When they were gone over,

and were got into the path,

they found it very easy to their feet;

and withal,


looking before them,

espied a man walking as they did,

and his name was Vain-Confidence: so they called after him,

and asked him whither that way led.

He said,

"To the Celestial Gate."


said Christian,

"did not I tell you so?

By this you may see we are right."

So they followed,

and he went before them.



the night came on,

and it grew very dark;

so that they that were behind lost sight of him that went before.



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 careless fools,

withal and was dashed in pieces with his fall.

Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall.

So they called to know the matter;

but there was none to answer,

only they heard a groaning.

Then said Hopeful,

"Where are we now?"

Then was his fellow silent,

as mistrusting that he had led him out of the way;

and now it began to rain,

and thunder,

and lighten in a most dreadful manner,

and the water rose amain.

Then Hopeful groaned in himself,


"Oh that I had kept on my way!"


Who could have thought that this path should have led us out of the way?


I was afraid on't at the very first,

and therefore gave you that gentle caution.

I would have spoken plainer,

but that you are older than I.


Good brother,

be not offended.

I am very sorry I have brought thee out of the way,

and that I have put thee into such great danger.


my brother,

forgive me: I did not do it of any evil intent.


Be comforted,

my brother,

for I forgive thee,

and believe,


that this shall be for our good.


I am glad I have with me a merciful brother;

but we must not stand still: let us try to go back again.



good brother,

let me go before.



if you please;

let me go first,


if there be any danger,

I may be first therein,

because by my means we are both gone out of the way.



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 undertook to go back;

but it was so dark,

and the flood so high,


in their going back,

they had like to have been drowned nine or ten times.


Neither could they,

with all the skill they had,

get again to the stile that night.


at last lighting under a little shelter,

they sat down there until daybreak;


being weary,

they fell asleep.


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.


with a grim and surly voice,

he bid them awake,

and asked them whence they were,

and what they did in his grounds.

They told him they were pilgrims,

and that they had lost their way.

Then said the giant,

"You have this night trespassed on me by trampling in and lying on my grounds,

and therefore you must go along with me."

So they were forced to go,

because he was stronger than they.

They had also but little to say,

for they knew themselves in fault.

The giant,


drove them before him,

and put them into his castle,

into a very dark dungeon,

nasty and smelling vilely to the spirits of these two men.



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,


here in evil case,

and were far from friends and people whom they knew.


in this place Christian had double sorrow,

because it was through his thoughtless haste that they were brought into this distress.



Giant Despair had a wife,

and her name was Diffidence.


when he was gone to bed,

he told his wife what he had done;

to wit,

that he had taken a couple of prisoners and cast them into his dungeon for trespassing on his grounds.

Then he asked her also what he had best to do further to them.

So she asked him what they were,

whence they came,

and whither they were bound;

and he told her.

Then she advised him,

that when he arose in the morning,

he should beat them without any mercy.


when he arose,

he getteth him a grievous crab-tree cudgel,

and goes down into the dungeon to them,

and there first fell to abusing them as if they were dogs,

although they never gave him a word of distaste.

Then he falls upon them,

and beats them fearfully,

in such sort that they were not able to help themselves,

or to turn them upon the floor.

This done,

he withdraws and leaves them there to sorrow over their misery and to mourn under their distress.

So all that day they spent their time in nothing but sighs and bitter grief.

The next night she,

talking with her husband about them further,

and understanding that they were yet alive,

did advise him to tell them to make away with themselves.


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,


or poison:

"For why,"

said he,

"should you choose life,

seeing it is attended with so much bitterness?"

But they desired him to let them go.

With that,

he looked ugly upon them,

and rushing to them,

had doubtless made an end of them himself,

but that he fell into one of his fits (for he sometimes,

in sunshiny weather,

fell into fits),

and lost for a time the use of his hands,

wherefore he withdrew,

and left them as before to consider what to do.

Then did the prisoners consult between themselves,

whether it was best to take his advice or no;

and thus they began to discourse:



said Christian,

"what shall we do?

The life 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 chooseth strangling rather than life,

and the grave is more easy for me than this dungeon.

Shall we be ruled by the giant?"




our present condition is dreadful;

and death would be far more welcome to me than thus for ever to abide.

But yet,

let us think: the Lord of the country to which we are going hath said,

"Thou shalt do no murder,"


not to another man's person;

much more,


are we forbidden to take his advice to kill ourselves.


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.



my brother,

thou talkest of ease in the grave;

but hast thou forgotten the hell,


for certain,

the murderers go?

for "no murderer hath eternal life."

And let us consider again,

that all the law is not in the hand of Giant Despair: others,

so far as I can understand,

have been taken by him as well as we,

and yet have escaped out of his hand.

Who knows but that God,

who made the world,

may cause that Giant Despair may die?

or that,

at some time or other,

he may forget to lock us in?

or that he may,

in a short time,

have another of his fits before us,

and he may lose the use of his limbs?

and if ever that should come to pass again,

for my part,

I am resolved to pluck up the heart of a man,

and try to my utmost to get from under his hand.

I was a fool that I did not try to do it before.

But however,

my brother,

let us be patient,

and endure awhile: 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 calm the mind of his brother;

so they continued together in the dark that day,

in their sad and doleful condition.


towards evening,

the giant goes down into the dungeon again,

to see if his prisoners had taken his counsel.


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.


I say,

he found them alive;

at which he fell into a grievous rage,

and told them that,

seeing they had disobeyed his counsel,

it should be worse with them than if they had never been born.

At this they trembled greatly,

and I think that Christian fell into a swoon;


coming a little to himself again,

they renewed their discourse about the giant's advice and whether yet they had best to take it or no.


Christian again seemed for doing it;

but Hopeful made his second reply as followeth:


"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,


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;


with thee,

I mourn without the light.

But let us have a little more patience.

Remember how thou showedst thyself the man at Vanity Fair,

and wast neither afraid of the chain,

nor cage,

nor yet of bloody death.


let us (at least to avoid the shame that it becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear up with patience as well as we can."


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 advice: to which he replied,

"They are sturdy rogues;

they choose rather to bear all hardship than to make away with themselves."

Then said she,

"Take them unto the castle-yard to-morrow,

and show them the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already killed;

and make them believe,

ere a week comes to an end,

thou wilt tear them also 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 shows them as his wife had bidden him.


said he,

"were pilgrims,

as you are,


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.


get you down to your den again."


with that,

he beat them all the way thither.

They lay,


all day on Saturday in a lamentable case,

as before.


when night was come,

and when Mrs. Diffidence and her husband,

the giant were got to bed,

they began to renew their talking of their prisoners;

and withal,

the old giant wondered that he could neither by his blows nor counsel bring them to an end.


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 picklocks about them,

by the means of which they hope to escape."

"And sayest thou so,

my dear?"

said the giant:

"I will therefore search them in the morning."



on Saturday about midnight,

they began to pray,

and continued in prayer till almost break of day.


a little before it was day,

good Christian,

as one half amazed,

brake out into this earnest speech:

"What a fool,"

quoth he,

"am I to lie in a foul-smelling dungeon,

when I may as well walk at liberty!

I have a key in my bosom called Promise,

that will,

I am sure,

open any lock in Doubting Castle."

Then said Hopeful,

"That is good news,

good brother: pluck it out of thy bosom,

and try."

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom,

and began to try at the dungeon door,

whose bolt,

as he turned the key,

gave back,

and the door flew open with ease,

and Christian and Hopeful both came out.

Then he went to the outward door that leads into the castle-yard,

and with his key opened that door also.


he went to the iron gate,

for that must be opened too;

but that lock went exceedingly hard,

yet the key did open it.

Then they thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed;

but that gate,

as it opened,

made such a creaking,

that it waked Giant Despair who,

hastily rising to pursue his prisoners,

felt his limbs to fail;

for his fits took him again,

so that he could by no means go after them.

Then they went on,

and came to the King's highway again,

and so were safe because they were out of Giant Despair's rule.


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 agreed to build there a pillar,

and to engrave upon the side thereof this sentence:

"Over this stile is the way to Doubting Castle,

which is kept by Giant Despair,

who despiseth the King of the Celestial Country,

and seeks to destroy His holy pilgrims."



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 make them as we to fare;

Lest they for trespassing his prisoners are Whose Castle's Doubting,

and whose name's Despair."