No More Learning



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HENRY CUYLER BUNNER
2745
Ah, no, not lonely do I fare:
My true companion's Memory.
With Love he fills the Spring-time air;
With Love he clothes the Winter tree.
Oh, past this poor horizon's bound
My song goes straight to one who stands –
Her face all gladdening at the sound -
To lead me to the Spring-green lands,
To wander with enlacing hands.
The songs within my breast that stir
Are all of her, are all of her.
My maid is dead long years (quoth he),
She waits for me in Arcady.
Oh, yon's the way to Arcady,
To Arcady, to Arcady:
Oh, yon's the way to Arcady,
Where all the leaves are merry.
Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons.
CHANT-ROYAL
I
WOULD that all men my hard case might know;
How grievously I suffer for no sin :
1, Adolphe Culpepper Ferguson, for lo!
I of my landlady am locked in,
For being short on this sad Saturday,
Nor having shekels of silver wherewith to pay:
She has turned and is departed with my key;
Wherefore, not even as other boarders free,
I sing (as prisoners to their dungeon stones
When for ten days they expiate a spree):
Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!
One night and one day have I wept my woe;
Nor wot I, when the morrow doth begin,
If I shall have to write to Briggs & Co. ,
To pray them to advance the requisite tin
For ransom of their salesman, that he may
Go forth as other boarders go alway-
As those I hear now flocking from their tea,
Led by the daughter of my landlady
Piano-ward. This day, for all my moans,
Dry bread and water have been served me.
Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!


## p. 2746 (#310) ###########################################

2746
HENRY CUYLER BUNNER
Miss Amabel Jones is musical, and so
The heart of the young he-boardér doth win,
Playing «The Maiden's Prayer' adagio --
That fetcheth him, as fetcheth the banco skin
The innocent rustic.
For my part,
I
pray
That Badarjewska maid may wait for aye
Ere sits she with a lover, as did we
Once sit together, Amabel! Can it be
That all that arduous wooing not atones
For Saturday shortness of trade dollars three?
Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!
Yea! she forgets the arm was wont to go
Around her waist. She wears a buckle, whose pin
Galleth the crook of the young man's elbów.
I forget not, for I that youth have been.
Smith was aforetime the Lothario gay.
Yet once, I mind me, Smith was forced to stay
Close in his room. Not calm, as I, was he;
But his noise brought no pleasa unce, verily.
Small ease he got of playing on the bones
Or hammering on his stove-pipe, that I see.
Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!
Thou, for whose fear the figurative crow
I eat, accursed be thou and all thy kin!
Thee will I show up — yea, up will I show
Thy too thick buckwheats, and thy tea too thin.
Ay! here I dare thee, ready for the fray:
Thou dost not “keep a first-class house,” I say!
It does not with the advertisements agree.
Thou lodgest a Briton with a puggaree,
And thou hast harbored Jacobses and Cohns,
Also a Mulligan. Thus denounce I thee!
Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!
ENVOY
Boarders! the worst I have not told to ye:
She hath stolen my trousers, that I may not flee
Privily by the window.
Hence these groans.
There is no fleeing in a robe de nuit.
Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!
Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons.


## p. 2746 (#311) ###########################################



## p. 2746 (#312) ###########################################


JOHN BUNYAN.


## p. 2746 (#313) ###########################################

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## p. 2746 (#314) ###########################################


JOHN BUNYAN.


## p. 2747 (#315) ###########################################

2747
JOHN BUNYAN
(1628-1688)
BY REV. EDWIN P. PARKER
OHN BUNYAN, son of Thomas Bunnionn Jun' and Margaret
Bentley, was born 1628, in the quaint old village of Elstow,
one mile southwest of Bedford, near the spot where, three
hundred years before, his ancestor William Boynon resided. His
father was a poor tinker or braseyer,”
» and his mother's lineage is
unknown. He says, — "I never went to school to Aristotle or Plato,
but was brought up at my father's house in a very mean condition,
among a company of poor countrymen. ”
He learned to read and write «according to the rate of other poor
men's children”; but soon lost “almost utterly” the little he had
learned. Shortly after his mother's death, when he was about seven-
teen years of age, he served as a soldier for several months, probably
in the Parliamentary army. Not long afterward he married a woman
as poor as himself, by whose gentle influence he was gradually led
into the way of those severe spiritual conflicts and painful exercises
of mind” from which he finally came forth, at great cost, victorious.
These religious experiences, vividly described in his (Grace Abound-
ing,' traceable in the course of his chief Pilgrim, and frequently
referred to in his discourses, have been too literally interpreted by
some, and too much explained away as unreal by others; but pre-
sent no special difficulty to those who will but consider Bunyan's own
explanations.
From boyhood he had lived a roving and non-religious life,
although possessing no little tenderness of conscience. He
neither intemperate nor dishonest; he was not a law-breaker; he
explicitly and indignantly declares: - If all the fornicators and
adulterers in England were hanged by the neck till they be dead,
John Bunyan would still be alive and well! The particular sins of
which he was guilty, so far as he specifies them, were profane
swearing, from which he suddenly ceased at a woman's reproof, and
certain sports, innocent enough in themselves, which the prevailing
Puritan rigor severely condemned. What, then, of that vague and
exceeding sinfulness of which he so bitterly accuses and repents
himself? It was that vision of sin, however disproportionate, which
a deeply wounded and graciously healed spirit often has, in looking
back upon the past from that theological standpoint whence all want
of conformity to the perfect law of God seems heinous and dreadful.
was


## p. 2748 (#316) ###########################################

2748
JOHN BUNYAN
“A sinner may be comparatively a little sinner, and sensibly a great one.
There are two sorts of greatness in sin: greatness by reason of number;
greatness by reason of the horrible nature of sin. In the last sense, he that
has but one sin, if such an one could be found, may in his own eyes find
himself the biggest sinner in the world. »
« Visions of God break the heart, because, by the sight the soul then has
of His perfections, it sees its own infinite and unspeakable disproportion. ”
« The best saints are most sensible of their sins, and most apt to make
mountains of their molehills. »
Such sentences from Bunyan's own writings – and many like them
might be quoted - shed more light upon the much-debated question
of his wickedness than all that his biographers have written.
In John Gifford, pastor of a little Free Church in Bedford, Bunyan
found a wise friend, and in 1653 he joined that church.
He soon
discovered his gifts among the brethren, and in due time was ap-
pointed to the office of a gospel minister, in which he labored with
indefatigable industry and zeal, and with ever-increasing fame and
success, until his death.
His hard personal fortunes between the
Restoration of 1660 and the Declaration of Indulgence of 1672, in-
cluding his imprisonment for twelve years in Bedford Gaol; his sub-
sequent imprisonment in 1675-6, when the first part of the Pilgrim's
Progress) was probably written; and the arduous engagements of his
later and comparatively peaceful years. -- must be sought in biogra-
phies, the latest and perhaps the best of which is that by Rev. John
Brown, minister of the Bunyan Church at Bedford. The statute
under which Bunyan suffered is the 35th Eliz. , Cap. I, re-enacted
with rigor in the 16th Charles II. , Cap. 4, 1662; and the spirit of it
appears in the indictment preferred against him : «that he hath
devilishly and perniciously abstained from coming to Church to hear
Divine service, and is a common upholder of several unlawful meet-
ings and conventicles, to the great disturbance and distraction of the
good subjects of this Kingdom, etc. , etc.
The story of Bunyan's life up to the time of his imprisonment,
and particularly that of his arrests and examinations before the just-
ices, and also the account of his experiences in prison, should be
read in his own most graphic narrative, in the Grace Abounding,'
which is one of the most precious portions of all autobiographic
literature. Bunyan was born and bred, he lived and labored, among
the common people, with whom his sympathies were strong and ten-
der, and by whom he was regarded with the utmost veneration and
affection. He understood them, and they him. For nearly a century
they were almost the only readers of his published writings. They
came to call him Bishop Bunyan. His native genius, his great
human-heartedness and loving-kindness, his burning zeal and indom-
itable courage, his racy humor and kindling imagination, all vitalized


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JOHN BUNYAN
2749
by the spiritual force which came upon him through the encompass-
ing atmosphere of devout Puritanism, were consecrated to the welfare
of his fellow-men. His personal friend, Mr. Doe, describes him as
« tall in stature, strong-boned, of a ruddy face, with sparkling eyes,
nose well set, mouth moderately large, forehead something high,
and his habit always plain and modest. ” His portrait, painted in
1685, shows a vigorous, kindly face, with mustachios and imperial,
and abundance of hair falling in long wavy masses about the neck
and shoulders, — more Cavalier-like than Roundhead.
Bunyan was a voluminous writer, and his works, many of them
posthumous, are said to equal in number the sixty years of his life.
But even the devout and sympathetic critic is compelled to acknowl-
edge the justice of that verdict of time which has consigned most of
them to a virtual oblivion. The controversial tracts possess no ele-
ments of enduring interest. The doctrinal and spiritual discourses are
elaborations of a system of religious thought which long ago «had
its day and ceased to be. ” Yet they contain pithy sentences, homely
and pat illustrations, and many a paragraph, rugged or tender, in
which one recognizes the stamp of his genius, and an intimation of
his remarkable power as a preacher. The best of these discourses,
(The Jerusalem Sinner Saved,' Come and Welcome to Jesus Christ,'
and Light for Them that Sit in Darkness,' while they sparkle here
and there with things unique and precious to the Bunyan-curious
student, would seem dull and tedious to the general though devout
reader. In many a passage we feel, to use his phrase, his heart-
pulling power,” no less than the force and felicity of his most
original images and analogies; but these passages are little oases in
a dry and thirsty land. The Life and Death of Mr. Badman' viv-
idly presents certain aspects of English provincial life in that day;
but they are repulsive, and the entire work is marred by flat moral- .
izings and coarse, often incredible stories.
The Holy War, which Macaulay said would have been our great-
est religious allegory if the Pilgrim's Progress' had not been writ-
ten, has ceased to be much read. The conception of the conquest of
the human soul by the irresistible operation of divine force is so for-
eign to modern thought and faith that Bunyan's similitude no longer
seems a verisimilitude. The pages abound with quaint, humorous,
and lifelike touches; as where Diabolus stations at Ear-Gate a
guard of deaf men under old Mr. Prejudice, and Unbelief is described
as "a nimble jack whom they could never lay hold of”;- but as
compared with the Pilgrim's Progress the allegory is artificial, its
elaboration of analogies is ponderous and tedious, and its characters
lack solidity and reality.
All these works, however, exhibit a remarkable command of the
inother tongue, a shrewd common-sense and mother wit, a fervid


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2750
JOHN BUNYAN
spiritual life, and a wonderful knowledge of the English Bible. They
may be likened to more or less submerged wrecks kept from sinking
into utter neglect by the bond of authorship which connects them
with the one incomparable work which floats, unimpaired by time.
on the sea of universal appreciation and favor. Bunyan's unique and
secure position in English literature was gained by the Pilgrim's
Progress,' the first part of which was published in 1678, and the
second in 1685.
The broader, freer conception of the pilgrimage - as old in liter-
ature as the ninetieth Psalm, apt and fond, as innumerable books
show, from De Guileville's "Le Pelerinage de l'Homme) in the four-
teenth century to Patrick's Parable three hundred years later —
took sudden possession of Bunyan's imagination while he was in
prison, and kindled all his finest powers. Then he undertook, poet-
wise, to work out this conception, capable of such diversity of illus-
tration, in a form of literature that has ever been especially congenial
to the human mind. Unguided save by his own consecrated genius,
unaided by other books than his English Bible and Fox's Book of
Martyrs,' he proceeded with a simplicity of purpose and felicity of
expression, and with a fidelity to nature and life, which gave to his
unconsciously artistic story the charm of perfect artlessness as well
as the semblance of reality. When Bunyan's lack of learning and
culture are considered, and also the comparative dryness of his con-
troversial and didactic writings, this efflorescence of a vital spirit of
beauty and of an essentially poetic genius in him seems quite inex-
plicable. The author's rhymed Apology for His Book,' which
usually prefaces the Pilgrim's Progress,' contains many significant
hints as to the way in which he was led to
«Make truth spangle, and its rays to shine. ”
He had no thought of producing a work of literary excellence; but
on the other hand he had not, in writing this book, his customary
purpose of spiritual edification. Indeed, he put his multiplying
thoughts and fancies aside, lest they should interfere with a more
serious and important book which he had in hand!
« I only thought to make
I knew not what: nor did I undertake
Thereby to please my neighbor; no, not 1:
I did it mine own self to gratify.
Thus I set pen to paper with delight,
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white. »


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JOHN BUNYAN
2751
The words are exceedingly suggestive. In writing so aimlessly –
“I knew not what » – to gratify himself by permitting the allegory
into which he had suddenly fallen to take possession of him and
carry him whithersoever it would, while he wrote out with delight
his teeming fancies, was not Bunyan for the first time exercising his
genius in a freedom from all theological and other restraint, and so
in a surpassing range and power? The dreamer and poet supplanted
the preacher and teacher. He yielded to the simple impulse of his
genius, gave his imagination full sweep, and so, as never before or
elsewhere, soared and sang in what seemed to many of his Puritan
friends a questionable freedom and profane inspiration. And yet his
song, or story, was not a creation of mere fancy,-
“It came from my own heart, so to my head,
And thence into my fingers tricklèd ; ».
one
and therefore, we add, it finds its way to the heart of mankind.
Hence the spontaneity of the allegory, its ease and freedom of
movement, its unlabored development, its natural and vital enfolding
of that old pilgrim idea of human life which had so often bloomed
in the literature of all climes and ages, but whose consummate
flower appeared in the book of this inspired Puritan tinker-preacher.
Hence also the dramatic unity and methodic perfectness of the story.
Its byways all lead to its highway; its episodes are as vitally related
to the main theme as are the ramifications of a tree to its central
stem. The great diversities of experience in the true pilgrims are
dominated by
supreme motive.
As for the others, they
appear incidentally to complete the scenes, and make the world and
its life manifold and real. The Pilgrim is a most substantial person,
and once well on the way, the characters he meets, the difficulties
he encounters, the succor he receives, the scenes in which he
mingles, are all, however surprising, most natural. The names, and
one might almost say the forms and faces, of Pliable, Obstinate,
Faithful, Hopeful, Talkative, Mercy, Great-heart, old Honest, Valiant-
for-truth, Feeble-mind, Ready-to-halt, Miss Much-afraid, and many
another, are familiar to us all. Indeed, the pilgrimage is our own
- in many of its phases at least, — and we have met the people
whom Bunyan saw in his dream, and are ourselves they whom he
describes. When Dean Stanley began his course of lectures on
Ecclesiastical History at Oxford, his opening words were those of
the passage where the Pilgrim is taken to the House Beautiful to
“the rarities and histories of that place, both ancient and
modern”; and at the end of the same course, wishing to sketch the
prospects of Christendom, he quoted the words in which, on leaving
the House Beautiful, Christian was shown the distant view of the
Delectable Mountains.
see


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2752
JOHN BUNYAN
But for one glance at Pope and Pagan, there is almost nothing to
indicate the writer's ecclesiastical standing. But for here and there
a marking of time in prosaic passages which have nothing to do
with the story, there is nothing to mar the catholicity of its spirit.
Romanists and Protestants, Anglicans and Puritans, Calvinists and
Arminians, - all communions and sects have edited and circulated it.
It is the completest triumph of truth by fiction in all literature.
More than any other human book, it is "a religious bond to the whole
of English Christendom. ” The second part is perhaps inferior to the
first, but is richer in incident, and some of its characters — Mercy,
old Honest, Valiant-for-truth, and Great-heart, for instance
exquisitely conceived and presented. Here again the reader will do
well to carefully peruse the author's rhymed introduction :
- are
«What Christian left locked up, and went his way,
Sweet Christiana opens with her key. ”
“Go then, my little Book,” he says, “and tell young damsels of
Mercy, and old men of plain-hearted old Honest. Tell people of
Master Fearing, who was a good man, though much down in spirit.
Tell them of Feeble-mind, and Ready-to-halt, and Master Despond-
ency and his daughter, who (softly went but sure. '
«When thou hast told the world of all these things,
Then turn about, my Book, and touch these strings,
Which, if but touched, will such a music make,
They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake. ”
This second part introduces some new scenes, as well as char-
acters and experiences, but with the same broad sympathy and
humor; and there are closing descriptions not excelled in power and
pathos by anything in the earlier pilgrimage.
In his Apology) Bunyan says:
( This book is writ in such a dialect
As may the minds of listless men affect. ”
The idiom of the book is purely English, acquired by a diligent
study of the English Bible. It is the simplest, raciest, and most
sinewy English to be found in any writer of our language; and Bun-
yan's amazing use of this Saxon idiom for all the purposes of his
story, and the range and freedom of his imaginative genius therein,
like certain of Tennyson's "Idylls,' show it to be an instrument of
symphonic capacity and variety. Bunyan's own maxim is a good
one:-“Words easy to be understood do often hit the mark, when
high and learned ones do only pierce the air. ”
Of the Pilgrim's Progress,' in both its parts, we may say in the
words of Milton :-


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JOHN BUNYAN
2753
« These are works that could not be composed by the invocation of Dame
Memory and her siren daughters, but by devout prayer to that eternal Spirit
who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and send out his Seraphim,
with the hallowed fire of his altar, to touch and purify the lips of whom he
pleases, without reference to station, birth, or education. ”
Let Bunyan speak for his own book:-
“Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep?
Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep?
Wouldst thou lose thyself and catch no harm,
And find thyself again, without a charm ?
Wouldst read thyself, and read, thou kn vst not what,
And yet know whether thou art blest or not
By reading the same lines ? ( then come hither!
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together. ”
Bunyan died of fever, in the house of a friend, at London, Au-
gust 12th, 1688, in the sixty-first year of his age. Three of his four
children survived him; the blind daughter, for whom he expressed
such affectionate solicitude during his imprisonment, died before him.
His second wife, Elisabeth, who pleaded for him with so much
dignity and feeling before Judge Hale and other justices, died in
1692. In 1661 a recumbent statue was placed on his tomb in Bun-
hill Fields, and thirteen years later a noble statue was erected in his
honor at Bedford. The church at Elstow is enriched with memorial
windows presenting scenes from the Holy War' and the Pilgrim's
Progress,' and the Bunyan Meeting-House in Bedford has bronze
doors presenting similar scenes.
The great allegory has been translated into almost every lan-
guage and dialect under the sun. The successive editions of it are
almost innumerable; and no other book save the Bible has had an
equally large circulation. The verdict of approval stamped upon
it at first by the common people, has been fully recognized and
accepted by the learned and cultivated.
Edwin P. Parker
V-173


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2754
JOHN BUNYAN
THE FIGHT WITH APOLLYON
From the Pilgrim's Progress)
BT
Ut 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 the greater advantage with ease to pierce him with his
darts.
Therefore he resolved to venture and stand his ground;
for, thought he, had I no more in mine eye than the saving of
my life, 'twould be the best way to stand.
So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now 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, 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.
A pollyon — Whence come you ? and whither are you bound ?
Christian — I am come from the City of Destruction, which is
the place of all evil, and am going to the City of Zion.
A pollyon — By this I perceive thou art one of my subjects, for
all that country is mine, and I am the prince and god of it.
How is it then that thou hast run away from thy King ? Were
it not that I hope thou mayest do me more service, I would
strike thee now at one blow to the ground.
Christian-- I was born indeed in your dominions, but your
service was hard, and your wages such as a man could not live
on, “for the wages of sin is death;” therefore when I was come
to years, I did as other considerate persons do— look out, if per-
haps I might mend myself.
A pollyon — There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his
subjects, neither will I as yet lose thee; but since thou complain-
est of thy service and wages, be content to go back; what our
country will afford, I do here promise to give thee.
Christian - But I have let myself to another, even to the King
of Princes, and how can I with fairness go back with thee?


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JOHN BUNYAN
2755
A pollyon — Thou hast done in this according to the proverb,
changed a bad for a worse; but it is ordinary for those that have
professed themselves his servants, after a while to give him the
slip and return again to me: Do thou so too, and all shall be well.
Christian - I have given him my faith, and sworn my alle-
giance to him: how then can I go back from this, and not be
hanged as a traitor ?
A pollyon 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.
Christian – What I promised thee was in my nonage; and
besides, I count that the Prince under whose banner now I stand
is able to absolve me; yea, and to pardon also what I did as
to my compliance with thee: and besides, O thou destroying
Apollyon, to speak truth, I like his service, his wages, his ser-
vants, his government, his company and country, better than
thine; and therefore leave off to persuade me further; I am his
servant, and I will follow him.
Apollyon — Consider again when thou art in cool blood, what
thou art like to meet with in the way that thou goest. Thou
knowest that for the most part his servants come to an ill end,
because they are transgressors against me and my ways: How
many of them have been put to shameful deaths; and besides,
thou countest his service better than mine, whereas he never
came yet from the place where he is to deliver any that served
him out of our hands; but as for me, how many times, as all
the world very well knows, have I delivered, either by power or
fraud, those that have faithfully served me, from him and his,
though taken by them; and so I will deliver thee.
Christian -- His forbearing at present to deliver them is on
purpose to try their love, whether they will cleave to him to the
end: and as for the ill end thou sayest they come to, that is
most glorious in their account; for for present deliverance, they
do not much expect it, for they stay for their glory, and then
they shall have it, when their Prince comes in his, and the glory
of the angels.
Apollyon — Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to
him, and how dost thou think to receive wages of him ?
Christian - Wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to
him ?
A pollyon — Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou
wast almost choked in the Gulf of Despond; thou didst attempt


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2756
JOHN BUNYAN
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 thing; thou wast also almost persuaded to
go back at the sight of the lions; and when thou talkest of
thy journey, and of what thou hast heard and seen, thou art
inwardly desirous of vainglory in all that thou sayest or doest.
Christian 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 country, for there I sucked them in, and I have groaned
under them, been sorry for them, and have obtained pardon of
my Prince.
A pollyon — Then Apollyon broke out into grievous rage, say-
ing, I am an enemy to this Prince; I hate his person, his laws,
and people: I am come out on purpose to withstand thee.
Christian - Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the
King's highway, the way of holiness, therefore take heed to
yourself.
A pollyon — 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 further; here will I spill thy soul.
And with that he threw a flaming dart at his breast, but
Christian had a shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and
so prevented the danger of that.
Then did Christian draw, for he saw 'twas time to bestir him:
and Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as
hail; by the which, notwithstanding all that Christian could do
to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand, and
foot. This made Christian give a little back; Apollyon therefore
followed his work amain, and Christian again took courage, and
resisted as manfully as he could. This sore combat lasted for
above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite spent; for
you must know that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must
needs grow weaker and weaker.
Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up
close to Christian, and wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful
fall; and with that Christian's sword flew out of his hand. Then
said Apollyon, I am sure of thee now; and with that he had
almost pressed him to death, so that Christian began to despair
of life: but as God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching


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JOHN BUNYAN
2757
of his last blow, thereby to make a full end of this good man,
Christian nimbly stretched out his hand for his sword, and
caught it, saying, “Rejoice not against me, o mine enemy!
when I fall I shall arise;" and with that gave him a deadly
thrust, which made him give back, as one that had received his
mortal wound; Christian, perceiving that, made at him again,
saying, “Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors
through him that loved us. ” And with that Apollyon spread
forth his dragon's wings, and sped him away, that Christian for
a season saw him no more.
In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and
heard as I did, what yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon made
all the time of the fight; he spake like a dragon; and on the
other side, what sighs and groans 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; then indeed he did smile, and look upward; but 'twas the
dreadfulest sight that ever I saw.
So 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,
saying: -
Great Beelzebub, 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 Michael helped me, and I
By dint of sword did quickly make him fly.
Therefore to him let me give lasting praise,
And thank and bless his holy name always.
Then there came to him a hand, with some of the leaves of
the tree of life, the which Christian took, and applied to the
wounds that he had received in the battle, and was healed imme-
diately. He also sat down in that place to eat bread, and to
drink of the bottle that was given him a little before; so being
refreshed, he addressed himself to his journey, with his sword
drawn in his hand; for he said, I know not but some other enemy
may be at hand.
But he met with no other affront from Apollyon
quite through this valley.


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2758
JOHN BUNYAN
THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS
From the Pilgrim's Progress
THEN
HEY went then till they came to the Delectable Mountains,
which mountains belong to the Lord of that Hill of which
we have spoken before; so they went up to the mountains,
to behold the gardens and orchards, the vineyards and fountains
of water; where also they drank, and washed themselves, and
did freely eat of the vineyards. Now there were on the tops of
these mountains shepherds feeding their flocks, and they stood
by the highway side. The pilgrims therefore went to them, and
leaning upon their staves (as is common with weary pilgrims,
when they stand to talk with any by the way) they asked,
Whose delectable mountains are these? And whose be the sheep
that feed upon them?
Shepherds — These mountains are "Immanuel's Land,” and they
are within sight of his city; and the sheep also are his, and he
laid down his life for them.
Christian - Is this the way to the Celestial City ?
Shepherds – You are just in your way.
Christian How far is it thither?
Shepherds — Too far for any but those that shall get thither
indeed.
Christian — Is the way safe or dangerous ?
Shepherds - Safe for those for whom it is to be safe, “but
transgressors shall fall therein. ”
Christian --- Is there in this place any relief for pilgrims that
are weary and faint in the way ?
Shepherds — The lord of these mountains hath given us a
charge "not to be forgetful to entertain strangers”; therefore the
good of the place is before you.
I saw also in my dream, that when the shepherds perceived
that they were wayfaring men, they also put questions to them
(to which they made answer as in other places), as, Whence came
you ? and, How got you into the way? and, By what means have
you so persevered therein ? For but few of them that begin to
come hither do show their face on these mountains. But when
the shepherds heard their answers, being pleased therewith, they
looked very lovingly upon them, and said, Welcome to the De-
lectable Mountains.


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JOHN BUNYAN
2759
The shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Experi-
ence, Watchful, and Sincere, took them by the hand, and had
them to their tents, and made them partake of that which was
ready at present. They said moreover, We would that ye should
stay here a while, to be acquainted with us; and yet more to
solace yourselves with the good of these delectable mountains.
They then told them that they were content to stay; and so
they went to their rest that night, because it was very late.
Then I saw in my dream, that in the morning the shepherds
called up Christian and Hopeful to walk with them upon the
mountains; so they went forth with them, and walked a while,
having a pleasant prospect on every side. Then said the shep-
herds one to another, Shall we show these pilgrims some won-
ders ? So when they had concluded to do it, they had them first
to the top of a hill called Error, which was very steep on the
furthest side, and bid them look down to the bottom. So Christ-
ian and Hopeful looked down, and saw at the bottom several
men dashed all to pieces by a fall that they had from the top.
Then said Christian, What meaneth this? The shepherds an-
swered, Have you not heard of them that were made to err, by
hearkening to Hymeneus and Philetus, as concerning the faith of
the resurrection of the body? They answered, Yes. Then said
the shepherds, Those that you see lie dashed in pieces at the
bottom of this mountain are they; and they have continued to
this day unburied (as you see) for an example to others to take
heed how they clamber too high, or how they come too near the
brink of this mountain.
Then I saw that they had them to the top of another mount-
ain, and the name of that is Caution, and bid them look afar
off; which when they did, they perceived, as they thought, sev-
eral men walking up and down among the tombs that were
there; and they perceived that the men were blind, because they
stumbled sometimes upon the tombs, and because they could not
get out from among them. Then said Christian, What means
this?
The shepherds then answered, Did you not see a little below
these mountains a stile, that led into a meadow, on the left hand
of this way? They answered, Yes. Then said the shepherds,
From that stile there goes a path that leads directly to Doubting
Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair; and these men (pointing
to them among the tombs) came once on pilgrimages as you do


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2760
JOHN BUNYAN
now, even till they came to that same stile; and because the
right way was rough in that place, and they chose to go out of
it into that meadow, and there were taken by Giant Despair and
cast into Doubting Castle; where, after they had been awhile
kept in the dungeon, he at last did put out their eyes, and led
them among those tombs, where he has left them to wander to
this very day, that the saying of the wise man might be ful-
filled, “He that wandereth out of the way of understanding shall
remain in the congregation of the dead. ” Then Christian and
Hopeful looked upon one another, with tears gushing out, but
yet said nothing to the shepherds.
Then I saw in my dream that the shepherds had them to
another place, in a bottom, where was a door in the side of a
hill, and they opened the door, and bid them look in. They
looked in therefore, and saw that within it was very dark and
smoky; they also thought that they heard there a rumbling
noise as of fire, and a cry as of some tormented, and that they
smelt the scent of brimstone. Then said Christian, What means
this?
The shepherds told them, This is a by-way to hell, a way
that hypocrites go in at; namely, such as sell their birth-right,
with Esau; such as sell their Master, as Judas; such as blas-
pheme the Gospel, with Alexander; and that lie and dissemble,
with Ananias and Sapphira his wife. Then said Hopeful to the
shepherds, I perceive that these had on them, even every one, a
show of pilgrimage, as we have now: had they not?
Shepherds — Yes, and held it a long time too.
Hopeful— How far might they go on in pilgrimage in their
day, since they notwithstanding were thus miserably cast away?
Shepherds - Some further, and some not so far as these mount-
ains.
Then said the pilgrims one to another, We had need to cry to
the Strong for strength.
Shepherds — Ay, and you will have need to use it when you
have it too.
By this time the pilgrims had a desire to go forwards, and
the shepherds a desire they should; so they walked together
towards the end of the mountains. Then said the shepherds one
to another, Let us here show to the pilgrims the gates of the
Celestial City, if they have skill to look through our perspective-
glass. The pilgrims then lovingly accepted the motion; so they


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JOHN BUNYAN
2761
had them to the top of a high hill, called Clear, and gave them
their glass to look.
Then they essayed to look, but the remembrance of that last
thing that the shepherds had showed them made their hands
shake, by means of which impediment they could not look
steadily through the glass; yet they thought they saw something
like the gate, and also some of the glory of the place.
CHRISTIANA AND HER COMPANIONS ENTER THE CELESTIAL
CITY
From the Pilgrim's Progress
N°"
ow while they lay here and waited for the good hour, there
was a noise in the town that there was a post come from
the Celestial City, with matter of great importance to one
Christiana, the wife of Christian the pilgrim. So inquiry was
made for her, and the house was found out where she was. So
the post presented her with a letter, the contents whereof was,
Hail, good woman, I bring thee tidings that the Master calleth
for thee, and expecteth that thou shouldest stand in his presence
in clothes of immortality, within this ten days.
When he had read this letter to her, he gave her therewith
a sure token that he was a true messenger, and was come to
bid her make haste to be gone. The token was an arrow with
a point sharpened with love, let easily into her heart, which
by degrees wrought so effectually with her, that at the time
appointed she must be gone.
When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that she was
the first of this company that was to go over, she called for Mr.
Great-heart her guide, and told him how matters were.
So he
told her he was heartily glad of the news, and could have been
glad had the post come for him. Then she bid that he should
give advice how all things should be prepared for her journey.
So he told her, saying, Thus and thus it must be, and we that
survive will accompany you to the river-side.
Then she called for her children and gave them her blessing,
and told them that she yet read with comfort the mark that was
set in their foreheads, and was glad to see them with her there,
and that they had kept their garments so white. Lastly, she
bequeathed to the poor that little she had, and commanded her


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2762
JOHN BUNYAN
sons and daughters to be ready against the messenger should
come for them.
When she had spoken these words to her guide and to her
children, she called for Mr. Valiant-for-truth, and said unto him,
Sir, you have in all places showed yourself true-hearted; be faith-
ful unto death, and my King will give you a crown of life. I
would also entreat you to have an eye to my children, and if at
any time you see them faint, speak comfortably to them. For
my daughters, my sons' wives, they have been faithful, and a ful-
filling of the promise upon them will be their end. But she gave
Mr. Stand-fast a ring.
Then she called for old Mr. Honest and said of him, Behold
an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile. Then said he, I
wish you a fair day when you set out for Mount Sion, and
shall be glad to see that you go over the river dry-shod. But
she answered, Come wet, come dry, I long to be gone, for how-
ever the weather is in my journey, I shall have time enough
when I come there to sit down and rest me and dry me.
Then came in that good man Mr. Ready-to-halt, to see her.
So she said to him, Thy travel hither has been with difficulty,
but that will make thy rest the sweeter. But watch and be
ready, for at an hour when you think not, the messenger may
come.
After him came in Mr. Despondency and his daughter Much-
afraid, to whom she said, You ought with thankfulness forever to
remember your deliverance from the hands of Giant Despair and
out of Doubting Castle. The effect of that mercy is, that you
are brought with safety hither. Be
ye
watchful and cast away
fear, be sober and hope to the end.
Then she said to Mr. Feeble-mind, Thou wast delivered from
the mouth of Giant Slay-good, that thou mightest live in the
light of the living for ever, and see thy King with comfort.
Only I advise thee to repent thee of thine aptness to fear and
doubt of his goodness before he sends for thee, lest thou shouldest,
when he comes, be forced to stand before him for that fault
with blushing
Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. So the
road was full of people to see her take her journey. But behold,
all the banks beyond the river were full of horses and chariots,
which were come down from above to accompany her to the city
gate. So she came forth and entered the river with a beckon of


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JOHN BUNYAN
2763
farewell to those who followed her to the river-side. The last
words she was heard to say here was, I come, Lord, to be with
thee and bless thee.
So her children and friends returned to their place, for that
those that waited for Christiana had carried her out of their
sight. So she went and called and entered in at the gate with
all the ceremonies of joy that her husband Christian had done
before her. At her departure her children wept, but Mr. Great-
heart and Mr. Valiant played upon the well-tuned cymbal and
harp for joy. So all departed to their respective places.
In process of time there came a post to the town again, and
his business was with Mr. Ready-to-halt. So he inquired him
out, and said to him, I am come to thee in the name of Him
whom thou hast loved and followed, though upon crutches; and
my message is to tell thee that he expects thee at his table to
sup with him in his kingdom the next day after Easter, where-
fore prepare thyself for this journey.
Then he also gave him a token that he was a true messenger,
saying, “I have broken thy golden bowl, and loosed thy silver
cord. ”
you also.
After this Mr. Ready-to-halt called for his fellow pilgrims,
and told them saying, I am sent for, and God shall surely visit
So he desired Mr. Valiant to make his will. And
because he had nothing to bequeath to them that should survive
him but his crutches and his good wishes, therefore thus he said,
These crutches I bequeath to my son that shall tread in my
steps, with a hundred warm wishes that he may prove better
than I have done.
Then he thanked Mr. Great-heart for his conduct and kind-
ness, and so addressed himself to his journey. When he came
at the brink of the river he said, Now I shall have no more need
of these crutches, since yonder are chariots and horses for me to
ride on.
The last words he was heard to say were, Welcome, life.
So he went his way.
After this Mr. Feeble-mind had tidings brought him that the
post sounded his horn at his chamber door. Then he came in
and told him, saying, I am come to tell thee that thy Master
has need of thee, and that in very little time thou must behold
his face in brightness. And take this as a token of the truth of
my message, “Those that look out at the windows shall be
darkened. ”


## p. 2764 (#332) ###########################################

2764
JOHN BUNYAN
Then Mr. Feeble-mind called for his friends, and told them
what errand had been brought unto him, and what token he had
received of the truth of the message.
Then he said, Since I
have nothing to bequeath to any, to what purpose should I make
a will ? As for my feeble mind, that I will leave behind me, for
that I have no need of that in the place whither I go. Nor is
it worth bestowing upon the poorest pilgrim; wherefore when I
am gone, I desire that you, Mr. Valiant, would bury it in a
dung-hill. This done, and the day being come in which he was
to depart, he entered the river as the rest. His last words were,
Hold out faith and patience. So he went over to the other side.
When days had many of them passed away, Mr. Despondency
was sent for. For a post was come, and brought this message
to him, Trembling man, these are to summon thee to be ready
with thy King by the next Lord's day, to shout for joy for thy
deliverance from all thy doubtings.
And said the messenger, That my message is true, take this
for a proof; so he gave him «The grasshopper to be a burden
unto him. ” Now Mr. Despondency's daughter, whose name
was Much-afraid, said when she heard what was done, that she
would
go
with her father. Then Mr. Despondency said to his
friends, Myself and my daughter, you know what we have been,
and how troublesomely we have behaved ourselves in every com-
pany. My will and my daughter's is, that our desponds and
slavish fears be by no man ever received from the day of our
departure for ever, for I know that after my death they will
offer themselves to others. For to be plain with you, they are
ghosts, the which we entertained when we first began to be
pilgrims, and could never shake them off after; and they will
walk about and seek entertainment of the pilgrims, but for our
sakes shut ye the doors upon them.
When the time was come for them to depart, they went to
the brink of the river. The last words of Mr. Despondency
were, Farewell, night; welcome, day. His daughter went through
the river singing, but none could understand what she said.
Then it came to pass a while after, that there was a post in
the town that inquired for Mr. Honest.
When the day
that he was to be gone was come, he addressed himself to go
over the river. Now the river at that time overflowed the banks
in some places, but Mr. Honest in his lifetime had spoken to one
Good-conscience to meet him there, the which he also did, and


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JOHN BUNYAN
2765
lent him his hand, and so helped him over. The last words of
Mr. Honest were, Grace reigns. So he left the world.
After this it was noised abroad that Mr. Valiant-for-truth was
taken with a summons by the same post as the other, and had
this for a token that the summons was true, « That his pitcher
was broken at the fountain. » When he understood it, he called
for his friends, and told them of it. Then said he, I am going
to my fathers, and though with great difficulty I am got hither,
yet now I do not repent me of all the trouble I have been at to
arrive where I am. My sword I give to him that shall succeed
me in my pilgrimage, and my courage and skill to him that can
get it. My marks and scars I carry with me, to be a witness for
me that I have fought his battles who now will be my rewarder.