hill.
Now, when I got about half the 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 bench 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.
Faith. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as the man overtook me, it was but a word and a blow; for down he knocked me and laid me for dead. But 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. And with that he struck me another deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down backward; so I lay at his feet as dead as before. So when I came to myself again, I cried, have mercy; but he said, I know not how to show mercy; and with that he knocked me down again. He had doubtless made an end of me, but that One came by and bid him forbear.
Chr. Who was that that bid him forbear?
Faith. I did not know Him at first; but 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.
Chr. That man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth none; neither knoweth he how to show mercy to those that transgress his law.
Faith. I know it very well; it was not the first time that he has met with me. ’Twas he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me that he would burn my house over my head if I staid there.
Chr. But did you not see the house that stood there on the top of the hill, on the side of which Moses met you?
Faith. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it. But, 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.
Chr. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by, but I wish that 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 anybody in the Valley of Humility?
Faith. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would willingly have persuaded me to go back again with him: his reason was, because the valley was altogether without honor. He told me, moreover, that to go there was the way to disoblige all my friends, as Pride, Arrogancy, Self-Conceit, Worldly Glory, 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.
Chr. Well, and how did you answer him?
Faith. I told him, that although all these that he named might claim a kindred to me, and that rightly (for indeed they were my relations, according to the flesh), yet since I became a pilgrim they have disowned me, and 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, moreover, that as to this valley, he had quite misrepresented the thing; for before honor is humility, and a haughty spirit before a
fall. Therefore, 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.
Chr. Met you with nothing else in that valley?
Faith. Yes, I met with Shame; but of all the men that I met with on my pilgrimage, he, I think, bears the wrong name. The others would be said nay, after a little argumentation, and somewhat else; but this boldfaced Shame would never have done.
Chr. Why, what did he say to you?
Faith. What? Why, he objected against religion itself. He said it was a pitiful, low, 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 blustering liberty that the brave spirits of the times accustom themselves unto, would make him the ridicule of the times. He objected also, that but a few of the mighty, rich, or wise, were ever of my opinion; nor any of them neither, before they were persuaded to be fools, and to venture the loss of all for nobody knows what. He, moreover, objected to 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 natural knowledge. Yea, he did hold me to it at that rate also, about a great many more things than here I relate; as, 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 make restitution where I have 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 made him own and respect the base, because of the same religious fraternity: and is not this, said he, a shame?
Chr. And what did you say to him?
Faith. Say? I could not tell what to say at first. Yea, 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 he tells me nothing what God or the word of God is. And I thought, moreover, that at last we shall not be judged according to the insolent spirits of the world, but according to the wisdom and the law of the Highest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is indeed best, though all the men in the world are against it.
Chr. 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. But if he was not himself audacious, he would never attempt to do as he does. But let us still resist him; for, notwithstanding all his bravadoes, he promoteth the fool, and none else. “The wise shall inherit glory,” said Solomon; “but shame shall be the promotion of fools.”
Faith. I think we must cry to Him for help against Shame, that would have us to be valiant for truth upon the earth.
Chr. You say true; but did you meet with nobody else in that valley?
Faith. No, not I; for I had sunshine all the rest of the way through that, and also through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.
Chr. ’Twas 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; yea, 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; for, as he threw me, my sword flew out of my hand: nay, he told me he was sure of me; but I cried unto 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 over and over I should have been killed there; but at last day brake, and the sun rose, and I went through that which was behind with far more ease and quiet.
Moreover, I saw in my dream, that as they went on, Faithful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw a man whose name was 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 more comely at a distance than at hand. To this man Faithful addressed himself in this manner.
Faith. Friend, whither away? Are you going to the heavenly country?
Talk. I am going to the same place.
Faith. That is well; then I hope we may have your good company?
Talk. With a very good will, will I be your companion.
Faith. Come on, then, and let us go together, and let us spend our time in discoursing of things that are profitable.
Talk. 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; for 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 hath