From Part I
The First Stage
Now I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this talk, they drew
nigh to a very miry slough that was in the midst of the plain: and they
being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog. The name of the slough
was Despond. Here, therefore, they wallowed for a time, being grievously
bedaubed with the dirt; and Christian, because of the burden that was on his
back, began to sink in the mire.
PLIABLE: Then said Pliable, Ah, neighbor Christian, where are you
CHRISTIAN: Truly, said Christian, I do not know.
PLIABLE: At this Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to
his fellow, Is this the happiness you have told me all this while of? If we
have such ill speed at our first setting out, what may we expect between
this and our journey’s end? May I get out again with my life, you shall
possess the brave country alone for me. And with that he gave a desperate
struggle or two, and got out of the mire on that side of the slough which
was next to his own house: so away he went, and Christian saw him no more.
Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of
Despond alone; but still he endeavored to struggle to that side of the
slough that was farthest from his own house, and next to the wicket-gate;
the which he did, but could not get out because of the burden that was upon
his back: but I beheld in my dream, that a man came to him, whose name was
Help, and asked him what he did there.
CHRISTIAN: Sir, said Christian, I was bid to go this way by a man
called Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder gate, that I might escape
the wrath to come. And as I was going thither, I fell in here.
But why did not you look for the steps?
CHRISTIAN: Fear followed me so hard that I fled the next way, and
Then, said he, Give me thine hand: so he gave him his hand, and he drew him
Psalm 40:2, and he set him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way.
Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, “Sir,
wherefore, since over this place is the way from the city of Destruction to
yonder gate, is it, that this plat is not mended, that poor travellers might
go thither with more security?” And he said unto me, “This miry slough is
such a place as cannot be mended: it is the descent whither the scum and
filth that attends conviction for sin doth continually run, and therefore it
is called the Slough of Despond; for still, as the sinner is awakened about
his lost condition, there arise in his soul many fears and doubts, and
discouraging apprehensions, which all of them get together, and settle in
this place: and this is the reason of the badness of this ground.
“It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should
remain so bad.
Isa. 35:3,4. His laborers also have, by the direction of his Majesty’s
surveyors, been for above this sixteen hundred years employed about this
patch of ground, if perhaps it might have been mended: yea, and to my
knowledge,” said he, “there have been swallowed up at least twenty thousand
cart loads, yea, millions of wholesome instructions, that have at all
seasons been brought from all places of the King’s dominions, (and they that
can tell, say, they are the best materials to make good ground of the
place,) if so be it might have been mended; but it is the Slough of Despond
still, and so will be when they have done what they can.
“True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, certain
good and substantial steps, placed even through the very midst of this
slough; but at such time as this place doth much spew out its filth, as it
doth against change of weather, these steps are hardly seen; or if they be,
men, through the dizziness of their heads, step beside, and then they are
bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there: but the ground is
good when they are once got in at the gate.”
1 Sam. 12:23.
Now I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable was got
home to his house. So his neighbors came to visit him; and some of them
called him wise man for coming back, and some called him fool for hazarding
himself with Christian: others again did mock at his cowardliness, saying,
“Surely, since you began to venture, I would not have been so base as to
have given out for a few difficulties:” so Pliable sat sneaking among them.
But at last he got more confidence, and then they all turned their tales,
and began to deride poor Christian behind his back. And thus much concerning
Now there was, not far from the
place where they lay, a castle, called Doubting Castle, the owner whereof
was Giant Despair, and it was in his grounds they now were sleeping:
wherefore he, getting up in the morning early, and walking up and down in
his fields, caught Christian and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then with a
grim and surly voice, he bid them awake, and asked them whence they were,
and what they did in his grounds. They told him they were pilgrims, and that
they had lost their way. Then said the giant, You have this night trespassed
on me by trampling in and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must go
along with me. So they were forced to go, because he was stronger than they.
They also had but little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault. The
giant, therefore, drove them before him, and put them into his castle, into
a very dark dungeon, nasty and stinking to the spirits of these two men.
Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday night, without one
bit of bread, or drop of drink, or light, or any to ask how they did; they
were, therefore, here in evil case, and were far from friends and
Psa. 88:18. Now in this place Christian had double sorrow, because it
was through his unadvised counsel that they were brought into this distress.
Now Giant Despair
had a wife, and her name was Diffidence: so when he was gone to bed he told
his wife what he had done, to wit, that he had taken a couple of prisoners,
and cast them into his dungeon for trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked
her also what he had best do further to them. So she asked him what they
were, whence they came, and whither they were bound, and he told her. Then
she counseled him, that when he arose in the morning he should beat them
without mercy. So when he arose, he getteth him a grievous crab-tree cudgel,
and goes down into the dungeon to them, and there first falls to rating of
them as if they were dogs, although they gave him never a word of distaste.
Then he falls upon them, and beats them fearfully, in such sort that they
were not able to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. This done,
he withdraws and leaves them there to condole their misery, and to mourn
under their distress: so all that day they spent the time in nothing but
sighs and bitter lamentations. The next night, she, talking with her husband
further about them, and understanding that they were yet alive, did advise
him to counsel them to make away with themselves. So when morning was come,
he goes to them in a surly manner, as before, and perceiving them to be very
sore with the stripes that he had given them the day before, he told them,
that since they were never like to come out of that place, their only way
would be forthwith to make an end of themselves, either with knife, halter,
or poison; for why, said he, should you choose to live, seeing it is
attended with so much bitterness? But they desired him to let them go. With
that he looked ugly upon them, and rushing to them, had doubtless made an
end of them himself, but that he fell into one of his fits, (for he
sometimes in sunshiny weather fell into fits,) and lost for a time the use
of his hands; wherefore he withdrew, and left them as before to consider
what to do. Then did the prisoners consult between themselves whether it was
best to take his counsel or no; and thus they began to discourse:
Brother, said Christian, what shall we do? The life that we now live is
miserable. For my part, I know not whether it is best to live thus, or to
die out of hand. My soul chooseth strangling rather than life, and the grave
is more easy for me than this dungeon.
Job. 7:15. Shall we be ruled by the giant?
Indeed our present condition is dreadful, and death would be far more
welcome to me than thus for ever to abide; but yet, let us consider, the
Lord of the country to which we are going hath said, “Thou shalt do no
murder,” no, not to another man’s person; much more, then, are we forbidden
to take his counsel to kill ourselves. Besides, he that kills another, can
but commit murder upon his body; but for one to kill himself, is to kill
body and soul at once. And moreover, my brother, thou talkest of ease in the
grave; but hast thou forgotten the hell whither for certain the murderers
go? for “no murderer hath eternal life,” etc. And let us consider again,
that all the law is not in the hand of Giant Despair: others, so far as I
can understand, have been taken by him as well as we, and yet have escaped
out of his hands. Who knows but that God, who made the world, may cause that
Giant Despair may die; or that, at some time or other, he may forget to lock
us in; or that he may, in a short time, have another of his fits before us,
and may lose the use of his limbs? And if ever that should come to pass
again, for my part, I am resolved to pluck up the heart of a man, and to try
my utmost to get from under his hand. I was a fool that I did not try to do
it before. But, however, my brother, let us be patient, and endure a while:
the time may come that may give us a happy release; but let us not be our
own murderers. With these words Hopeful at present did moderate the mind of
his brother; so they continued together in the dark that day, in their sad
and doleful condition.
evening the giant goes down into the dungeon again, to see if his prisoners
had taken his counsel. But when he came there he found them alive; and
truly, alive was all; for now, what for want of bread and water, and by
reason of the wounds they received when he beat them, they could do little
but breathe. But I say, he found them alive; at which he fell into a
grievous rage, and told them, that seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, it
should be worse with them than if they had never been born.
At this they
trembled greatly, and I think that Christian fell into a swoon; but coming a
little to himself again, they renewed their discourse about the giant’s
counsel, and whether yet they had best take it or no. Now Christian again
seemed for doing it; but Hopeful made his second reply as followeth:
brother, said he, rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast been
heretofore? Apollyon could not crush thee, nor could all that thou didst
hear, or see, or feel, in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. What hardship,
terror, and amazement hast thou already gone through; and art thou now
nothing but fears! Thou seest that I am in the dungeon with thee, a far
weaker man by nature than thou art. Also this giant hath wounded me as well
as thee, and hath also cut off the bread and water from my mouth, and with
thee I mourn without the light. But let us exercise a little more patience.
Remember how thou playedst the man at Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid
of the chain nor cage, nor yet of bloody death: wherefore let us (at least
to avoid the shame that it becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear up
with patience as well as we can.
Now night being
come again, and the giant and his wife being in bed, she asked him
concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his counsel: to which he
replied, They are sturdy rogues; they choose rather to bear all hardships
than to make away with themselves. Then said she, Take them into the
castle-yard to-morrow, and show them the bones and skulls of those that thou
hast already dispatched, and make them believe, ere a week comes to an end,
thou wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast done their fellows before them.
So when the
morning was come, the giant goes to them again, and takes them into the
castle-yard, and shows them as his wife had bidden him. These, said he, were
pilgrims, as you are, once, and they trespassed on my grounds, as you have
done; and when I thought fit I tore them in pieces; and so within ten days I
will do you: get you down to your den again. And with that he beat them all
the way thither. They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in a lamentable
case, as before. Now, when night was come, and when Mrs. Diffidence and her
husband the giant was got to bed, they began to renew their discourse of
their prisoners; and withal, the old giant wondered that he could neither by
his blows nor counsel bring them to an end. And with that his wife replied,
I fear, said she, that they live in hopes that some will come to relieve
them; or that they have picklocks about them, by the means of which they
hope to escape. And sayest thou so, my dear? said the giant; I will
therefore search them in the morning.
Saturday, about midnight they began to pray, and continued in prayer till
almost break of day.
Now, a little
before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, brake out into this
passionate speech: What a fool, quoth he, am I, thus to lie in a stinking
dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty! I have a key in my bosom,
called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle.
Then said Hopeful, That is good news; good brother, pluck it out of thy
bosom, and try.
pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the dungeon-door, whose
bolt, as he turned the key, gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and
Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the outward door that
leads into the castle-yard, and with his key opened that door also. After he
went to the iron gate, for that must be opened too; but that lock went
desperately hard, yet the key did open it. They then thrust open the gate to
make their escape with speed; but that gate, as it opened, made such a
creaking, that it waked Giant Despair, who hastily rising to pursue his
prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his fits took him again, so that he
could by no means go after them. Then they went on, and came to the King’s
highway, and so were safe, because they were out of his jurisdiction.
Now, when they
were gone over the stile, they began to contrive with themselves what they
should do at that stile, to prevent those that shall come after from falling
into the hands of Giant Despair. So they consented to erect there a pillar,
and to engrave upon the side thereof this sentence: “Over this stile is the
way to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the
King of’ the Celestial country, and seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims.”
Many, therefore, that followed after, read what was written, and escaped the
danger. This done, they sang as follows:
“Out of the
way we went, and then we found
to tread upon forbidden ground:
them that come after have a care,
heedlessness makes them as we to fare;
for trespassing, his prisoners are,
castle’s Doubting, and whose name’s Despair.”
From Part II
Now my old friend proceeded, and said, But when Christiana
came to the Slough of Despond, she began to be at a stand; For, said she,
this is the place in which my dear husband had like to have been smothered
with mud. She perceived, also, that notwithstanding the command of the King
to make this place for pilgrims good, yet it was rather worse than formerly.
So I asked if that was true. Yes, said the old gentleman, too true; for many
there be that pretend to be the King’s laborers, and that say they are for
mending the King’s highways, who bring dirt and dung instead of stones, and
so mar instead of mending. Here Christiana therefore, with her boys, did
make a stand. But said Mercy, Come, let us venture; only let us be wary.
Then they looked well to their steps, and made a shift to get staggering
Yet Christiana had like to have been in, and that not once
or twice. Now they had no sooner got over, but they thought they heard words
that said unto them, “Blessed is she that believeth; for there shall be a
performance of those things which were told her from the Lord.”
Then they went on again; and said Mercy to Christiana, had
I as good ground to hope for a loving reception at the Wicket-gate as you, I
think no Slough of Despond would discourage me.
Well, said the other, you know your sore, and I know mine;
and, good friend, we shall all have enough evil before we come to our
journey’s end. For can it be imagined that the people who design to attain
such excellent glories as we do, and who are so envied that happiness as we
are, but that we shall meet with what fears and snares, with what troubles
and afflictions they can possibly assault us with that hate us?
And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out my dream by