The Life of John Bunyan [67]
to pass, not
knowing that they are chained; the Palace Beautiful, where he is
admitted to the communion of the faithful, and sits down to meat
with them; the Valley of Humiliation, the scene of his desperate
but victorious encounter with Apollyon; the Valley of the Shadow of
Death, with its evil sights and doleful sounds, where one of the
wicked ones whispers into his ear thoughts of blasphemy which he
cannot distinguish from the suggestions of his own mind; the cave
at the valley's mouth, in which, Giant Pagan having been dead this
many a day, his brother, Giant Pope, now sits alone, grinning at
pilgrims as they pass by, and biting his nails because he cannot
get at them; Vanity Fair, the picture of the world, as St. John
describes it, hating the light that puts to shame its own self-
chosen darkness, and putting it out if it can, where the Pilgrim's
fellow, Faithful, seals his testimony with his death, and the
Pilgrim himself barely escapes; the "delicate plain" called Ease,
and the little hill, Lucre, where Demas stood "gentlemanlike," to
invite the passersby to come and dig in his silver mine; Byepath
Meadow, into which the Pilgrim and his newly-found companion stray,
and are made prisoners by Giant Despair and shut up in the dungeons
of Doubting Castle, and break out of prison by the help of the Key
of Promise; the Delectable Mountains in Immanuel's Land, with their
friendly shepherds and the cheering prospect of the far-off
heavenly city; the Enchanted Land, with its temptations to
spiritual drowsiness at the very end of the journey; the Land of
Beulah, the ante-chamber of the city to which they were bound; and,
last stage of all, the deep dark river, without a bridge, which had
to be crossed before the city was entered; the entrance into its
heavenly gates, the pilgrim's joyous reception with all the bells
in the city ringing again for joy; the Dreamer's glimpse of its
glories through the opened portals - is not every stage of the
journey, every scene of the pilgrimage, indelibly printed on our
memories, for our warning, our instruction, our encouragement in
the race we, as much as they, have each one to run? Have we not
all, again and again, shared the Dreamer's feelings - "After that
they shut up the Gates; which, when I had seen, I wished myself
among them," and prayed, God helping us, that our "dangerous
journey" - ever the most dangerous when we see its dangers the
least - might end in our "safe arrival at the desired country"?
"The Pilgrim's Progress" exhibits Bunyan in the character by which
he would have most desired to be remembered, as one of the most
influential of Christian preachers. Hallam, however, claims for
him another distinction which would have greatly startled and
probably shocked him, as the father of our English novelists. As
an allegorist Bunyan had many predecessors, not a few of whom,
dating from early times, had taken the natural allegory of the
pilgrimage of human life as the basis of their works. But as a
novelist he had no one to show him the way. Bunyan was the first
to break ground in a field which has since then been so
overabundantly worked that the soil has almost lost its
productiveness; while few novels written purely with the object of
entertainment have ever proved so universally entertaining.
Intensely religious as it is in purpose, "The Pilgrim's Progress"
may be safely styled the first English novel. "The claim to be the
father of English romance," writes Dr. Allon, "which has been
sometimes preferred for Defoe, really pertains to Bunyan. Defoe
may claim the parentage of a species, but Bunyan is the creator of
the genus." As the parent of fictitious biography it is that
Bunyan has charmed the world. On its vivid interest as a story,
its universal interest and lasting vitality rest. "Other
allegorises," writes Lord Macaulay, "have shown great ingenuity,
but no other allegorist has
knowing that they are chained; the Palace Beautiful, where he is
admitted to the communion of the faithful, and sits down to meat
with them; the Valley of Humiliation, the scene of his desperate
but victorious encounter with Apollyon; the Valley of the Shadow of
Death, with its evil sights and doleful sounds, where one of the
wicked ones whispers into his ear thoughts of blasphemy which he
cannot distinguish from the suggestions of his own mind; the cave
at the valley's mouth, in which, Giant Pagan having been dead this
many a day, his brother, Giant Pope, now sits alone, grinning at
pilgrims as they pass by, and biting his nails because he cannot
get at them; Vanity Fair, the picture of the world, as St. John
describes it, hating the light that puts to shame its own self-
chosen darkness, and putting it out if it can, where the Pilgrim's
fellow, Faithful, seals his testimony with his death, and the
Pilgrim himself barely escapes; the "delicate plain" called Ease,
and the little hill, Lucre, where Demas stood "gentlemanlike," to
invite the passersby to come and dig in his silver mine; Byepath
Meadow, into which the Pilgrim and his newly-found companion stray,
and are made prisoners by Giant Despair and shut up in the dungeons
of Doubting Castle, and break out of prison by the help of the Key
of Promise; the Delectable Mountains in Immanuel's Land, with their
friendly shepherds and the cheering prospect of the far-off
heavenly city; the Enchanted Land, with its temptations to
spiritual drowsiness at the very end of the journey; the Land of
Beulah, the ante-chamber of the city to which they were bound; and,
last stage of all, the deep dark river, without a bridge, which had
to be crossed before the city was entered; the entrance into its
heavenly gates, the pilgrim's joyous reception with all the bells
in the city ringing again for joy; the Dreamer's glimpse of its
glories through the opened portals - is not every stage of the
journey, every scene of the pilgrimage, indelibly printed on our
memories, for our warning, our instruction, our encouragement in
the race we, as much as they, have each one to run? Have we not
all, again and again, shared the Dreamer's feelings - "After that
they shut up the Gates; which, when I had seen, I wished myself
among them," and prayed, God helping us, that our "dangerous
journey" - ever the most dangerous when we see its dangers the
least - might end in our "safe arrival at the desired country"?
"The Pilgrim's Progress" exhibits Bunyan in the character by which
he would have most desired to be remembered, as one of the most
influential of Christian preachers. Hallam, however, claims for
him another distinction which would have greatly startled and
probably shocked him, as the father of our English novelists. As
an allegorist Bunyan had many predecessors, not a few of whom,
dating from early times, had taken the natural allegory of the
pilgrimage of human life as the basis of their works. But as a
novelist he had no one to show him the way. Bunyan was the first
to break ground in a field which has since then been so
overabundantly worked that the soil has almost lost its
productiveness; while few novels written purely with the object of
entertainment have ever proved so universally entertaining.
Intensely religious as it is in purpose, "The Pilgrim's Progress"
may be safely styled the first English novel. "The claim to be the
father of English romance," writes Dr. Allon, "which has been
sometimes preferred for Defoe, really pertains to Bunyan. Defoe
may claim the parentage of a species, but Bunyan is the creator of
the genus." As the parent of fictitious biography it is that
Bunyan has charmed the world. On its vivid interest as a story,
its universal interest and lasting vitality rest. "Other
allegorises," writes Lord Macaulay, "have shown great ingenuity,
but no other allegorist has