So when he was come in and sat down, they gave him something to drink, and consented
together that, until supper was ready, some of them should have some particular
discourse with Christian, for the best improvement of time; and they appointed
Piety, Prudence, and Charity to discourse with him: and thus they began.
Piety: Come, good
Christian, since we have been so loving to you as 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.
Christian: With a
very good will; and I am glad that you are so well disposed.
Piety: What moved
you at first to betake yourself to a pilgrim’s life?
Christian: I was
driven out of my native country by a dreadful sound that was in mine ears; to
wit, that unavoidable destruction did attend me, if I abode in that place where
I was.
Piety: But how
did it happen that you came out of your country this way?
Christian: It was
as God would have it; for when I was under the fears of destruction, I did not
know whither to go; but by chance there came a man, even to me, as I was
trembling and weeping, whose name is Evangelist, and he directed me to the
Wicket-gate, which else I should never have found, and so set me into the way
that hath led me directly to this house.
Piety: But did
you not come by the house of the Interpreter?
Christian: Yes,
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, 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.
Piety: Why, did
you hear him tell his dream?
Christian: Yes,
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 it.
Piety: Was this
all you saw at the house of the Interpreter?
Christian: No; 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 ravish
my heart. I would have stayed at that good man’s house a twelvemonth, but that
I knew I had farther to go.
Piety: And what
saw you else in the way?
Christian: Saw?
Why, 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, but then it fell down from off
me. It was a strange thing to me, for I never saw such a thing before: yea, and
while I stood looking up, (for then I could not forbear looking,) three Shining
Ones came to me. One of them testified that my sins were forgiven me; another
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,
(and with that he plucked it out of his bosom.)
Piety: But you
saw more than this, did you not?
Christian: The
things that I have told you were the best: yet some other I saw, as, namely, I
saw three men, Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep, a little out of the
way, as I came, with irons upon their heels; but do you think I could awake
them? I also saw Formality 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. But, 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 I thank God I am here, and
thank you for receiving me.
Then Prudence
thought good to ask him a few questions, and desired his answer to them.
Prudence: Do you
not think sometimes of the country from whence you came?
Christian: Yea,
but with much shame and detestation. Truly, if I had been mindful of that
country from whence I came out, I might have had opportunity to have returned;
but now I desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one.
Prudence: Do you
not yet bear away with you some of the things that then you were conversant
withal?
Christian: Yes,
but greatly against my will; especially my inward and carnal cogitations, with
which all my countrymen, as well as myself, were delighted. But now all those
things are my grief; and might I but choose mine own things, I would choose
never to think of those things more: but when I would be a doing that which is
best, that which is worst is with me. Prudence: Do you
not find sometimes as if those things were vanquished, which at other times are
your perplexity?
Christian: Yes,
but that is but seldom; but they are to me golden hours in which such things
happen to me.
Prudence: Can you
remember by what means you find your annoyances at times as if they were
vanquished?
Christian: Yes:
when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it; and when I look upon my
broidered coat, that will do it; and 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.
Prudence: And
what is it that makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion?
Christian: Why,
there I hope to see Him alive that did hang dead on the cross; and there I hope
to be rid of all those things that to this day are in me an annoyance to me:
there they say there is no death, and there I shall dwell with such
company as I like best. For, to tell you 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, Holy,
holy, holy.
Then said Charity
to Christian, Have you a family; Are you a married man?
Christian: I have
a wife and four small children.
Charity: And why
did you not bring them along with you?
Christian: Then
Christian wept, and said, Oh, how willingly would I have done it! but they were
all of them utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage.
Charity: But you
should have talked to them, and have endeavored to show them the danger of
staying behind.
Christian: 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.
Charity: And did
you pray to God that he would bless your counsel to them?
Christian: Yes,
and that with much affection; for you must think that my wife and poor children
were very dear to me.
Charity: But did
you tell them of your own sorrow, and fear of destruction? for I suppose that
destruction was visible enough to you.
Christian: Yes,
over, and over, and over. They might also see my fears in my countenance, in my
tears, and also in my trembling under the apprehension of the judgment that did
hang over our heads; but all was not sufficient to prevail with them to come
with me.
Charity: But what
could they say for themselves, why they came not?
Christian: Why,
my wife was afraid of losing this world, and my children were given to the
foolish delights of youth; so, what by one thing, and what by another, they
left me to wander in this manner alone.
Charity: But did
you not, with your vain life, damp all that you, by words, used by way of
persuasion to bring them away with you?
Christian:
Indeed, I cannot commend my life, for I am conscious to myself of many failings
therein. I know also, that a man, by his conversation, may soon overthrow what,
by argument or persuasion, he doth 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. Yea, for this very thing,
they would tell me I was too precise, and that I denied myself of things (for
their sakes) in which they saw no evil. Nay, I think I may say, that if what
they saw in me did hinder them, it was my great tenderness in sinning against
God, or of doing any wrong to my neighbor.