The pilgrim's progress in the nineteenth century

Front matter

NOTICES OF THE WORK.

From Rev. Tryon Edwards, D. D., of .Yew London, Conn. What the original Pilgrim's Progress did for Christian experience, this has endeavored to do for the external history of religion in this country, for the last thirty years. It is a work of ingenuity, industry, and talent ; combining the depth of a profound discussion, with the interest of a personal narrative. As a faithful record of history, a strong defence of truth and order, a skilful discrimination between the true and false in religious doctrine and experience, and a portraitlike description of men and events, it is worthy of high commendation.

From Rev. Mvan Cobb, of Taunton, Mass.

Preface

Amoxg the books which fell into the hands of the Author when a child, was Bunyan's Pilgrim ; and no one interested his feelings more deeply, or probably contributed in a higher degree to give form to his mind and direction to his thoughts. And when, at a later period, by the study of divine truth, he was led to perceive some mistakes into which Eunyan had fallen, in a theology generally sound, he was led to think it desirable that a Pilgrim's Progress should be written in which those mistakes should be avoided, and which should be adapted to the present times. Accordingly, about the year 1812, a few of the first chapters of this work were sketched, and some thoughts set down for its further progress. About 1824-5, twent}^-one chapters of it were published in a periodical; and in 1828-9 six more, making the first twenty-seven chapters, which are now given with very little alteration. About that time materials were collected for the further progress of the work, as will be recognized by those who were conversant with that remarkable season. It was not, however, till recently, that circumstances permitted the work to be taken up again, and carried through.

The Author makes no pretensions to the originality of Bunyan ; but he hopes, by taking his Pilgrims along the same path which Bunyan has marked out, and introducing such new incidents as are adapted to the present century, to furnish a book of useful reading for both young and old. In discussing opinions and practices which he deems erroneous, his aim has been to do impartial justice. He has, therefore, when practicable, taken the very words of authors from their own publications, and accompanied them with the usual marks of quotation. This he has done also with the works of authors he approves. But, as he desired to direct the attention of his readers to things, and not to persons, he has not usually given names. The characters introduced are chiefly allegorical, though some will doubtless be considered as taken from the life. And if any one shall recognize his own likeness, the Author sincerely hopes that he will not be like one who " beholdeth his natural face in a glass, and goetfa his way, and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was ;" but will carefully correct any faults he shall discover ; so that the view which is given may be for his profit, and not for his hurt.

THE AUTHOR.

Contents

Page

CHAPTER I. — Description of the country ; employments of the inhabitants; their guilt and danger; preaching of Evangelist ; remarks of his hearers, 11

CHAP. II. — Sensitive and Sincere awakened ; go to their ministers for advice, and are relieved. Thoughtful awakened ; directed to submit ; does it, 17

Chapter I

In journeying through the wilderness of this world, it happened that I fell in company with a man of singular parts, whose name was Mr. Sagacity ; and having far to travel in the same road, I enjoyed the pleasure of his society, and the benefit of his conversation, for many days. Knowing that he was the same person who had formerly given a relation of the adventures of certain pilgrims, in their progress from the city of Destruction to the Celestial Country, I embraced the opportunity of inquiring further respecting them ; and was much delighted with hearing the old gentleman relate again the various perils the pilgrims encountered, for the love they bore to the Prince Immanuel, the wonderful deliverances which they had experienced by the strength of his arm, and the happy termination of their journey. When the good man dwelt on the joys of the state in which they now are, and spoke of those things which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, I felt my heart burn with strong desire to go also on pilgrimage, to be a follower of them who through faith and patience have inherited the promises, that I too might share in the glories of the new Jerusalem, and might sit down with the general assembly of pilgrims at the marriage supper of the Prince Immanuel.

So strongly had these things taken possession of my mind, that when I laid me down to sleep at the inn, I had no sooner closed my eyes, than my imagination returned to the pilgrims and their adventures. Methought I stood upon an eminence, which commanded an extensive prospect of the country, and allowed me to extend my view far to the east. On my right, in the plain below, was the city of Destruction, with the towns of Stupidity, Sensuality, and Carnal Security, and the extensive regions of the province of Darkland. To the south was Mount Sinai, and just beyond it the town of Formality, the village of Morality, and the other towns and villages of Pharisee-land. Just before me was the wicket-gate, which stood at the head of the narrow way ; and from this gate, stretching due east, far as the eye could reach, lay the road to the Celestial City.

On directing my attention to the valley below me, I perceived that the suburbs of the city of Destruction were extended close up to the wicket-gate ; and that this part of the city, as well as every other, was exceedingly populous. Fixing my eyes upon the inhabitants, I observed that all was bustle and confusion among them. All appeared eagerly engaged, and exerting all their powers, in the pursuit of something, but what, I could not at first distinctly perceive. On drawing nearer, and looking more attentively, I could more clearly distinguish what their employments were. Some of them "were endeavoring to climb a high hill called Worldly-Honor. The sides of this hill were very steep, and at the same time very slippery, so that few of the climbers ever reached the summit. And those few who did reach the summit, I perceived did not remain there ; but presently their heads grew dizzy, and they tumbled headlong, to be seen no more. Many were the expedients resorted to, in order to mount up this dangerous hill. Some mounted upon the shoulders of others, that they might reach a place where there was foot-hold, and all seemed willing at first to take others upon their shoulders, with the expectation that when they were up, they would assist them in turn. But these expectations were seldom realized ; for those who were up seemed so intent upon mounting higher, as not to regard those below, any further than they needed their help. Many who had reached a considerable elevation were pulled down by others who were desirous of taking their places. And many who thus pulled others down, fell with them to the bottom. Some having secured the ladder of popular favor, ascended quickly to a great height, when the ladder suddenly gave way, and their bones were broken with the fall.

Others I saw digging with vast labor in a mine called Worldly Gain, and burdening themselves with great quantities of the earth they brought thence. Many of those who descended into the mine I observed never came out again ; but the earth often fell in upon them and buried them alive. Such occurrences, however, did not seem in the least to damp the

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ardor of the survivors, who continued digging with the same eagerness, though at the imminent hazard of their lives. The earth, which was brought from the mine, appeared to occasion many quarrels among those who possessed it. And when they carried it home, I saw that they were not able to sleep, for fear that others should set upon them and take it away. Children often wished their parents dead, that they might get possession of what was in their hands ; and as soon as their parents were out of the way, quarrelled among themselves about the division. And I saw, moreover, that several very ill-favored and dreadful shapes, called Fraud, and Lying, and Perjury, and Murder, were continually walking about amongst the diggers, taking the earth from some and giving it to others. Those who received it from them seemed to exult for a few moments in the possession ; but soon another monster called Remorse, with vipery hair and snaky whip, pursued them wherever they went.

Another part of the inhabitants I saw employing themselves very differently still. These were chiefly of the younger sort. In the midst of the city ran several deep, turbid, sluggish streams, called the streams of Sensual Pleasure, the waters of which were mingled with vast quantities of mire and filth, which were drained off from the streets and common sewers of the city, and continually sent forth the most offensive and pestilential exhalations. These streams, flowing together in the heart of the city, formed a vast whirlpool, called the Vortex of Dissipation, in which multitudes were continually swallowed up, and carried into the Dead Sea. To these foul streams vast crowds of both sexes were continually resorting, and with the greatest seeming eagerness were drinking down the fetid waters with an insatiable thirst. Numbers were sailing down these streams to the Vortex of Dissipation, and many boys were bathing in them, and sporting in the mire and filth.

When I had seen the inhabitants of the city thus employed, I said to myself, These people cannot be in the enjoyment of right reason, they are certainly beside themselves. And what strengthened me in this opinion was, that I saw no one among them who was at all satisfied with his present condition ; but the mind of every one appeared like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. And notwithstanding that they found so little satisfaction in their pursuits, they still returned to them with as much eagerness as ever. And I saw, moreover, that every one had a heavy burden on his back, like that which the pilgrim Christian had before he became a pilgrim ; and that although these burdens seemed to me to be sufficiently heavy to sink them down to Tophet, yet none of them seemed to be sensible that he had any burden at all. And besides this, I perceived under the whole city a vast pit, filled with combustible materials, and burning with great fierceness, which had gradually worn away the ground on which the city stood, so that in many places it was a mere shell, and often trembled under them, as if it were ready to crumble in pieces, and plunge the whole city into the burning abyss below. And notwithstanding all this, they appeared to be as unconcerned, and as eagerly engaged in their various employments, as if there were no danger to be apprehended.

While I looked at them, and wondered at their conduct in their present circumstances, I observed one near me, whose name was Revelation, to whom I addressed myself, and inquired if he could explain these things.

Then said he to me, This whole country was once under the dominion of the Celestial King, who governed it with the greatest equity and mildness, and imposed no restraints upon the inhabitants, but such as were necessary for their own and the general good. The black tyrant, however, the implacable enemy of their King, found means to persuade them that the wholesome restraints they were under were intolerable, and too grievous to be submitted to ; and that if they would revolt from their lawful prince, and put themselves under his control, they should be exalted to great dignity, and enjoy unbounded liberty. They accordingly revolted from their rightful King, and became the subjects of the black tyrant.

But he has greatly deceived them, said I. He has so, replied Mr. Revelation ; for instead of being highly exalted, and becoming as gods, which he promised them, they have debased themselves to the lowest depth of degradation, and have become the vilest of creatures. And instead of enjoying greater liberty, they are now the veriest slaves in the universe.

They do not appear to be in the enjoyment of their right reason, said I.

Rev. They are not. "Their hearts are full of evil, and madness is in their hearts while they live." The black tyrant has blinded the eyes of their understanding. And so complete is his influence over them, that they do not perceive their bondage, nor the heavy burdens they have upon their backs.

They are greatly to be pitied, said I.

Rev. They are indeed ; but they are more to be blamed.

How is that ? said I. Do we not think a man excusable for what he does under the influence of lunacy, when he is not in the enjoyment of right reason ?

Rev. We do so when a man is under the influence of -natural blindness, madness, or lunacy. But the madness of these

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people is of a peculiar nature. It is not natural,but moral. They are entirely voluntary in their madness. The black tyrant could never have brought them under his power without their consent. He can have no further influence upon them no^v than they please to give him ; and he cannot keep them in subjection a moment longer than they are his willing slaves.

But, have they no information, said I, of the danger to which they are exposed by remaining in the city ?

Rev. They have the best information. I am continually employed in pointing out to them this danger, and the way to escape it through yonder gate. I am always proclaiming that the wrath of the King is revealed from his throne against them, and pointing out to them the dangerous pit of fire and brimstone over which they hang, and which is very soon to swallow up their whole city. But I am very little regarded. Some say that I am an impostor, and they will not listen to me. Others say my language is so- mysterious they cannot understand it if they try, and they will not try. Others say I tell some truth and some lies, and they cannot tell what to depend upon. Others admit that all I say is true, in some sense or other, but they will not believe I mean as I say. Others say they are too much employed just now, they have no time to listen to me, and bid me call again at a more convenient season. There is one, named Conscience, who seconds my designs as far as he can. He never contradicts the opinions of those he addresses, but often crosses their inclinations. lie bids them attend to my instructions, and always act according to their best judgment of what is right. He often follows them into their secret retirements, and expostulates with them upon the folly and wickedness of their conduct ; and sometimes he breaks in upon them in the midst of their carousals, and terrifies them with the tidings of what is coming upon them. But they are far from being pleased with his admonitions ; and if they cannot contrive to silence him, they usually drown his voice/ in the noise and bustle which they raise. Evangelist also often goes and preaches to them, and warns them to flee from the wrath to come. And Goodwill, at the gate, stands with the doors wide open, night and day, with his hands stretched out towards them, saying in the most affectionate manner, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

Upon hearing these words, I cast my eyes toward the gate, and saw a crowd of people collecting near it, round - a venerable old man, whom I presently knew to be Evangelist. I therefore descended the hill, and mingled with the crowd, that 1 might hear him preach. After prayer, he opened a book which he held in his hand, and read the following words: " Now then we are ambassadors for Immanuel, as though the King did beseech you by us, we pray you in Immanuel's stead, be ve reconciled to the King." After pointing out the nature of the controversy between the King and his rebellious subjects, and showing the unreasonableness and wickedness of their conduct, and the propriety of their submitting themselves unconditionally to the King, he pointed out to them, in the most affecting manner, what the Prince Immanuel had done to open the door of reconciliation ; and urged them, by his dying groans and bitter agonies, to renounce their rebellion and return to their allegiance. At the same time he warned those who should refuse to submit, of the danger to which they wTere exposed from the dreadful pit over which they were suspended, and the wrath of the King which was revealed against them. I was too much interested in the subject to notice the manner in which it affected the hearers while it was delivered ; but when the preacher had dismissed the assembly, I observed a number of persons collected in a group, making their remarks upon what they had heard.

I am weary, said Mr. Curiosity, with hearing the same old tale, every time he preaches : he never gives us any thing that is new.

I am displeased, said Mr. Obstinate, that he always insists upon our giving up our side of the controversy, and never speaks of the -King's yielding a tittle. For my part, I am willing to be on good terms with the King, provided he will give up his claims, and be reconciled to us.

For my part, said Mr. Pride, I cannot bear to hear him always talking of submission. And what is worse than all, he would have us submit unconditionally. He would have us throw ourselves into the hands of the King, to be disposed of at his sovereign pleasure. Perhaps he would banish or imprison the half of us. I am determined never to be reconciled to the King, unless he will previously stipulate never to bring me to a trial, but to raise me to a throne ; and then I shall be willing to submit, if he calls that submission.

The greatest fault I find, said Mr. Self-complacent, is that he gives such an odious character to those who are in rebellion against the King. He will not allow that there is any moral goodness in them, but insists that they are wholly corrupt, and that every imagination of the thoughts of their heart is only evil continually. I consider this as a libel upon the whole of us.

I am displeased, said Mr. Secure, that he preaches so muck terror. For my part, I have no idea of being frightened into

H

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submission to the King. I do not believe there is any such pit of fire and brimstone, as he speaks of, beneath our city, ready to swallow us up. I have a better opinion of the King, than to suppose that he will punish the creatures which he has made, for any crimes which it is in their power to commit.

Chapter II

Then I turned my attention another way, and observed two young gentlemen walking aside by themselves, whose countenances showed that the discourse of Evangelist had made a deep impression upon their minds. The name of the one was Sensitive, and that of the other, Sincere. Both appeared to be filled with deep distress, and the tears flowed copiously from the eyes of Sensitive.

Oh, said Sensitive, what shall I do ? The wrath of the King is revealed against us. How stupid have I been, that I did not think of it before.

And I, said Sincere, begin to think that we do, indeed, hang | over a dreadful pit, which will, sooner or later, swallow up our city and all that inhabit it.

Oh, said Sensitive, I will never more be so stupid. T will go to our minister and inquire what I shall do to escape the wrath I to come.

And I, said Sincere, will go home and settle my affairs, and prepare to leave the city.

Then I observed that there was a number of churches in the city of Destruction, whose pulpits were supplied by ministers, who were had in very high esteem, and who were very popular in the city ; such as Dr. Smoothman, Dr. Soothing, Mr. Slight-heal, Mr. Save-all, and several others. Sensitive belonged to the parish of Dr. Smoothman, with whom he was well acquainted, and going directly to his house, desired to : speak with him. So the Doctor took him into his study, and after bidding him to be seated, inquired what he wanted. At which Sensftive burst into tears, and was so overcome that he could not speak. Then said Dr. Smoothman, Compose yourself, young man, and tell me what is the matter. Sensitive. Oh, sir, I fear I am undone forever ! Br. Smoothman. Undone forever ! Why, what has hapto you?

Sen. I am a sinner, sir, and I fear I shall fall into the burning pit. I fear that the King is very angry with me.

Dr. Sm. If that is all, you may quiet your fears. We are all sinners ; but the King is very merciful.

Sen. But I have heard, sir, that the King is angry with the wicked every day.

Dr. Sm. That is, with those who are very wicked, as swearers, thieves, drunkards, adulterers, and the like. But you are not guilty of any such sins. I have been acquainted with you from a child, and have always known you to be a modest, sober youth, and never addicted to any disreputable practices.

Sen. But I have heard that the law of the King requires us to love him with all our heart, and our neighbor as ourselves ; and this without any interruption, upon pain of his eternal displeasure, which I fear I have not done.

Dr. S?n. That was the law given to man before the fall, The King then required perfect obedience, upon pain of his eternal displeasure. But since we have become fallen, imperfect creatures, he has placed us under a milder law, better suited to our circumstances. If we lead a sober, regular life, go constantly to church, are honest in our dealings, kind to the poor, and do not fall into any violent out-breaking sins, we have no reason to fear but that he will accept us. It is true that we may be guilty of some little sins, some venial faults (who is there that is without some?) but the King knows that these are infirmities which are incident to our fallen nature ; and as our good deeds so far overbalance these, the King will certainly bestow upon us a rich reward.

Sen. You give me great comfort, sir. I thank you for your wholesome instruction, and shall endeavor to profit by it. But I feel that my fears have very much disturbed my mind ; what shall I do to regain that composure which I have lost ?

Dr. Sm. I perceive that you are somewhat discomposed ; and I would advise you to banish all such thoughts as occasioned your late distress, and avoid every thing which is likely to suggest them. Endeavor to divert your mind. For if you dwell on these gloomy subjects, you will be in danger of falling into a settled melancholy, and perhaps derangement of mind, which would be a dreadful calamity. Resort to some harmless amusement. Frequent the company of your young friends. Take an innocent hand at cards, or engage in a sprightly dance, or go to the theatre. And when you cannot avail yourself of these, read some diverting book, such as a novel or a play, to prevent the recurrence of gloomy thoughts. These means are admirably calculated to prevent or remove such distress of mind as yours. And if these things will not

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afford you relief, and restore your former tranquillity, I know not what will.

Sen. I feel greatly obliged to you, sir, for your kind instruction and advice. I have always been particularly fond of these innocent amusements, as most of the young people in our city are. I feel my mind greatly relieved already, and hope that by attending to your directions, I shall soon regain my wonted tranquillity and cheerfulness,

Then I saw that Sensitive took his leave with a cheerful air, and returned to his house well satisfied with himself and with his minister, and no longer entertained any thoughts of leaving the city.

After this, I turned to see what was become of the other young man who had been alarmed at the preaching of Evangelist. And I soon perceived that he had reached his house, and had retired to his room, to reflect upon his present circumstances, and the great danger to which he was exposed. I had observed that he did not appear to be so much moved, at first, as Sensitive had been ; but I now saw that what he had heard had taken a strong hold of his mind, and that he was walking his room absorbed in deep thought. Upon this, one named°Conscience came in, and addressed him with a stern air. Conscience. All that Evangelist said concerning you is true. Sincere. I know it is, and I have no longer any doubt that our city will, sooner or later, be destroyed, and that if I remain in it, I shall perish in its ruins. .

Con. I have often told you the same things, and have oiten reproved you for your stupid and careless life.

Sin. You have, indeed ; but I have slighted your admonitions, and have been unwilling to listen to your voice.

Con. You have so ; and you deserve now to perish, with the city. Look back also on your past life. Consider how many acts of rebellion against the King you have committed ; and that, too, when I have remonstrated against your conduct m the most decided terms. Consider how many times you have promised to amend your life, and have broken your promises ; how often you have resolved -to go on pilgrimage, and have acted contrary to those resolutions.

Sin. All that you say is true. I am, indeed, m great danger. What shall I do ? I fear the King will not accept me now, although I should leave the city and go on pilgrimage. If I remain here, I shall perish ; if I leave the city, I shall perish. Ah me ! who can endure the wrath of the King ? Oh that I had never been born !

Con. Remember, also, how foolishly you have spent your time ; how many precious moments you have wasted in vain and criminal amusements ; how often you have drunk deep of the streams of sensual pleasure, not only contrary to my advice, but on purpose to get rid of my unwelcome company.

Sin. Oh "the precious moments that I have murdered ! The recollection of each plants a dagger in my bosom. What a fool have I been, to trifle, as I have done, upon the brink of eternal burnings ! I cannot bear to hold my finger in the candle for one minute ; how then can I bear the torments of the pit through the countless ages of eternity ! Oh ! that word — - Eternity ! How it rings in my ears ! Could I hope that the torments of the pit would ever have an end, the anticipation of them would be less intolerable ! But who can dwell with the devouring fire ? Who can inhabit everlasting burnings ?

Then I saw that Sincere was in great agony of mind ; and although he threw himself upon his bed, he found no rest, but spent the night in meditating terror, and looking frequently for the pit to open beneath him and swallow him up. And if he fell into a momentary slumber, he would presently start, and scream as if the fiends of the pit were already seizing him for their prey. In the morning he rose, and attempted to attend to some business ; but his mind was so disturbed with the thoughts of his present situation, that he found it impossible. In the afternoon he resolved to go to his minister, Dr. Soothing, (for he belonged to his parish,) and obtain his instructions and directions about setting out on pilgrimage, as he was determined to set out without any more delay. Accordingly, he went to the house of Dr. Soothing, w^ho received him with great kindness, and inquired in the tenderest manner what was the cause of his distress.

Sincere. It is the fear, sir, of the wrath of the Kin q\ that makes me tremble. I see myself exposed to fall into the burning pit while I remain in this city ; and I fear it is too late for me to escape. Do, sir, tell me if there is any hope that I may yet escape from the wrath to come.