The Parable of the Pilgrim, Parable · Chapter 29
CAP. XXIX.
Of the trouble which the Pilgrim was in about ſome buſineſs which had layn neglected during his ſickneſs. Of his deſires after a contemplative Life. Of Solitude. The Profit of it: eſpecially at the beginning of our Chriſtian courſe. And how they that enjoy it, do not find all the ſatisfaction which they expected in it.
BEing able therefore by the good inſpirations of his friend (whoſe mouth he acknowledged was a Well of Life) to go about the houſe;Pro. 10.11 He ſpent as much time as he was able in praiſing God, inſtructing the ſervants, and doing good to all his neighbours, not neglecting any duty which God or man required of him. But ſo it was, that having been long ſick, there were ſome neceſſary buſineſſes in which both he and his friend were concerned, that had layn as long as himſelf without any regard. Theſe called very importunately upon him for his attendance, and being very weighty, and requiring quick diſpatch, would not ceaſe to ſollicite more of his thoughts than he was willing to allow them. It will be of no uſe to tell you what they were, but it may be ſufficient to let you know that they were of ſuch moment that without a manifeſt wrong both to himſelf and others, he could by no means put them off, nor make them reſt contented with a cold and ſlow management of them. And yet from hence his mind took occaſion to ſpring a new doubt, which he had not power to remove himſelf, till he had made it known to his Friend; though his affairs were not ſo urgent but that they left him a little leiſure to conſider of that which might have given him ſome ſatisfaction. For whenſoever a crowd of little occaſions throng'd in upon him and would not be denyed his company; then he began to frown upon himſelf becauſe he did not find ſo much vacancy as his heart deſired for private Prayer and Recollection.
To this the Father ſaid (as ſoon as he had eaſed himſelf of the ſcruple by telling of it) that for his part he was very glad to find he had ſuch a vehement love for retired thoughts and ſecret converſe with God; and that he ſighed ſo much after it, as far more delightful to him then the open World and all the bravery which it hangs out to us. But he told him alſo that he was to be blamed for thinking himſelf leſs pleaſing to God in what he was a doing, becauſe he was leſs pleaſing to himſelf. For, do you not know, ſaid he, that God hath bidden us ſerve our neighbour as much as we can? and that it is an idle pretence to ſay we love God whom we never ſaw, if we love not our Brother whom we ſee continually? And hath he not placed us in a Body which muſt be fed, and that cannot be nouriſhed with Thoughts and live upon Meditations; nor be ſupported without the labour of its own hands? Why then do you complain that it cannot be filled with a Prayer, and have its hunger ſatiſfied with an Hymn? Perhaps it may ſo fall out, that a great many things ſhall require our ſervice at one and the ſame time; and though we call not for them all together, yet they call on us and bid us mind them; or elſe they ſay that they will be gone and not wait upon our leiſure. Is there any reaſon now to turn thoſe things away that will not come again? or ſhall we trouble our ſelves that we have not the diſpoſal of other mens wills, and cannot make them come to us only when we pleaſe to call them? why may we not be contented to let all neceſſary affairs take as much of our time as they aſk, ſeeing God will have us ſo imployed? Contented, I ſay, for I did never yet forbid you to deſire more time wherein to recollect your ſelf and retire unto God; but would rather have you to wiſh for that, while you are forced to ſerve other things. He is not to be commended that is glad of a multitude of buſineſſes, and loves (as we ſay) to have his hands full of the World; but yet he is no wayes deſerving of our praiſe neither, who when his Calling thruſts it upon him and he is got into the midſt of it, is ſtill bewailing himſelf and troubled at his portion. The true way to peace is, to ſet our hands with all diligence to the neceſſary works of our calling, but to ſet our hearts upon the more immediate ſervice of our Lord. To do our buſineſs, whatſoever multiplicity there happen to be in it; but to long to do ſomething elſe, if that would permit us. Yet ſtill I ſay we muſt ſo long after the Higher life, that our deſires do not breed in us any diſguſt or impatience in the Lower; which will both make our buſineſs longer and unfit us for our ſpiritual employments.
You remember I make no doubt the ſtory of Jacob, how much he was inamoured of fair Rachel; but that though he ſerved ſeveral years for her, yet he was put off with the embraces of Leah and forced to endure another apprenticeſhip for his moſt beloved. And the reaſon of it you know is there rendred, becauſe it was not the faſhion of that Country to diſpoſe of the Younger before the Elder Siſter. I have ſometimes thought that this may not unfitly be accommodated to repreſent unto us the eſtate and condition of Pious ſouls while they are like Jacob in this Pilgrimage far from their Fathers houſe. They are extreamly deſirous to be wholly wedded to the fair and amiable life of Contemplation, Prayer and conſtant paſſions of love of God. This they court and woe above all other things, hoping in a little time to obtain their ſuit and ſpend their dayes in ſuch happy enjoyments. But ſo it is, that they muſt be employed a long while other wayes, before they can reaſonably expect to arrive at the felicity of being wholly ſequeſtred unto that Life. And ſuch is the neceſſity of this World that when we imagine we ſhall now be at perfect leiſure for it; ſome thing or other ſtill thruſts us into a different way of living. Nay the manner of this Country is ſuch, that we muſt be contented to ſerve firſt in theſe baſer employments, before we can be permitted to come to thoſe nobler retirements. With this Worldly life we all begin and it is the Elder of the two. Nay, moſt of us are forced by many years labour in providing for the lower man, to procure to our ſelves a liberty of being more vacant to the ſervice of our ſouls. And it it is very well, I aſſure you, if after more years then Jacob ſerved, God ſhall be pleaſed to bleſs us with ſuch a proportion of theſe Worldly goods, that we may repoſe our ſelves with greater quietneſs in the boſome of a more contemplative life. Then we may be allowed in compare with this beautiful Rachel, to hate Leah and all her earthly buſineſs: yea it will be expected at our hands when we are furniſhed as Jacob was with flocks and herds and can ſay, We have enough; that we quit the world and retreat from our ſecular affairs and betake our ſelves more intirely to the Higher life. And this favour perhaps our Lord may indulge us, when we are grown a little older and ſhall be more ripe for it; but till that time let us be patient as the Patriarch was; and in hope at laſt to injoy this ſweet, this beloved life, not ſuffer the other to ſeem at all a tedious ſtate unto us.
This diſcourſe did not a little gratifie our young Traveller, who now fancied himſelf another Jacob; wiſhing for nothing ſo much as to have the fair Damſel we ſpoke of given him to be his wife. And ſo much he had impreſſed his mind with the Idea of that more excellent converſation, that had it not been for the laſt words his Friend ſpake and that he conſidered alſo it is wont to remain like Rachel a great while, more barren then the other; he had faln into reproaches of this Blear-eyed life, which makes us ſuch ſtrangers to Diviner objects, that when we behold them our eyes ſmart and grow ſore by reaſon of their ſplendor. It is too little to ſay that he loved it; for he burnt with deſire after it. When he was employed about the affairs of this life, the time ſeemed like the cold froſty nights wherein Jacob kept the flocks of Laban in the field. Then were his Sunſhine dayes, and his Heart all in an ardor of Love and Joy, when he was within doors ſecluded from the herd of the World and ſhut up with God in his Soul. If there was any heat and eagerneſs in the diſpatch of his ordinary buſineſs, it was by a reflection from theſe greater flames; which excited him to purſue that with the more agility, that he might the ſooner quit his hands of it, and be free for God.
And thus having placed his affections, I need not tell you how oft he uſed to ſteal a glance of thoſe Heavenly objects, even when he was in the midſt of ſome of his worldly occaſions. This I alwayes obſerved, that when it was left to his own choice what part he would take to manage; he would ever lay hold on that which would give moſt liberty for his thoughts, to withdraw themſelves ſometimes to better things. And having good Jacob ſo much in his mind, he uſed to ſay that he wondred the Shepheards of all other men were not moſt envyed (whoſe name God hath aſſumed into his Titles) becauſe their life is ſo like to His who rules the whole World and yet enjoyes himſelf. For his part as he paſſed along in his journey and ſaw thoſe Swains with their Sheephooks in their hands, he could not for his life but fancy them to be Scepters, and the men to be ſo many petty Kings, whoſe obedient people left them nothing elſe to do but to pleaſe themſelves. O happy Soveraigns, was he wont to ſay, who have ſuch peaceable ſubjects! O Princely Souls whoſe Royalty is attended with none of thoſe enemies of Liberty, which make the Thrones of others uneaſie! There is none privy to what you do, but only your ſelves. None of thoſe Ceremonies trouble you, which incumber all the actions of Kings. You live in the Kingdom of Wiſdom. Your minds are free for the nobleſt contemplations. Your Court is frequented with no flatterers. And it is not hard for you to know thoſe that love your perſons from thoſe that love your fortune. You are not enforced either to be loaded with Cares, or elſe with the reproach of being negligent. Your leiſure is far better then all the imployments which others ſeek. It it is better to want with you, then to abound with all the World beſide. Your deſarts are far in my eſteem before the Glory of Princely Pallaces. And there are no chains ſo well made or ſo fairly guilded over, that could tempt me out of your Liberty.
When he had recovered himſelf out of theſe pleaſant tranſports, he oftentimes fell into a very ſober commendation of Solitude: which he uſed to call the Gate that lets into the inward World, the ſuburbs of Heaven, and the Miſtreſs of ſuch noble ſatisfactions as the Courts of Kings cannot equal. The profit of this hidden and unknown life, ſaid he, is not to be expreſſed; when obſcuring our ſelves in our own Souls we have the greater light within; and communicating ſolely with our Lord, in that one object we enjoy more then all the World. So Neceſſary it is, that I find he cannot be wiſe that is not retired. He muſt be a Fool that ſhuns his own company. He thinks all things better then himſelf, who forſakes himſelf to be with them. If the World had not loſt their wits they would not thus ſlight and paſs by their own Souls, If their taſt were not ſpoiled, they would find more Delight as well as more profit at home, than can be enjoyed abroad. Though peace and innocence make no great noiſe, yet their undiſturbed pleaſures yield the higheſt contentment. Their pleaſures are ſuch that it is hard for great perſons and thoſe who are much in the World to take their ſhare in them. And as for all others, ſince we muſt divide them with thoſe men whom by no means we would be like, they cannot import very much to our ſatisfaction.
A great number of other things he heaped up in praiſe of this private life, till at laſt he endeavoured to derive honour upon it from the example of our Lord who he thought was much delighted in it. For he obſerved that it was thirty years before he would frequent the World; and that after he did appear, he was wont very often to retire himſelf even from the company of his own family. And I think he had added a great deal more in this Argument, had not his Companion here interpoſed this ſudden queſtion. What then? are you ſo affected to this life as to wiſh you may be left alone? You mean belike to quit me too, and turn an Hermite to enjoy your ſelf the better, when no body ſhares in your affections. By no means, replyed the Filgrim as haſtily: for though he is never alone who is accompanied with noble thoughts; yet I ſhould think my ſelf too much alone without your company. This Solitude doth not exclude our Friends but rather make room for them. We cannot enjoy whom we would, unleſs we retire and ſeparate our ſelves from the multitude. There we may pick and chuſe, but in the crowd men will thruſt themſelves upon us. And therefore I would be alone that I may have more of you. I would go aſide from the World, that I may not be drawn ſo much from you. And indeed whatſoever profit or pleaſure there is that I fancy in this private life, they muſt needs be multiplied by the company of a friend to whom I may impart the benefits that I receive. The moſt plentiful feaſt without a companion, is the Life of a Lion or of a Wolk. Let my fulneſs be never ſo great, I ſhall ſuffer hunger, as long as I want one of your goodneſs to taſt my happineſs with me. We were taught, I remember, at School, that Reſt in ancient times was ſtiled The Food of the gods; and therefore I have ſince thought that a retreat from buſineſs cannot but be very neceſſary for man. But as their leiſure was thought to be ſweeteſt when they enjoyed it together; ſo I conceive will my Solitude be, if you think good alſo to live alone with me. I do not fancy there are any Anchorets in the the other World. There are no Deſarts in thoſe ſpatious Plains which we ſee above. The Heavenly Natures love Society, and therefore I will not labour to be unlike them. And indeed, if I were perfectly ſhut up in my own ſoul, I could not make it ſuch an Hermitage, but that the Image of you would ſtill dwell with me.
Well, ſaid the Father, I am very much beholden to you, that you will make me the Companion of your moſt ſecret pleaſures: and it layes a great obligation on me to be good, if it were but for this only; that there may be no Image imprinted on ſuch a ſoul as yours, but what is fair and lovely. It muſt be confeſſed alſo, that there is very great uſe of Solitarineſs, eſpecially in the beginnings of a New Life. Then if one ſhould aſk me, What ſhall I fly? I would anſwer, as one of the Philoſophers did, Fly the multitude. For while a man is weak in Vertue, he is like to one that hath been long ſick; if you ſtir him from the place where he is, he grows worſe. Such a man can ſcarce return back from the world with the manners he carried out with him. Something that he had compoſed, is put into diſorder: Some evil that he had chaſed away, comes back to him unawares: ſome good reſolution which he had formed, is loſt in a great croud of temptations: and the bad cuſtoms which he had ſhaken off, will endeavour again to renew their acquaintance. All places being full of ill examples, there is the greater danger of infection. There is none but either commends a vice, or impreſſes it on us, or ſecretly rubs us with it. And it is very hard to beat off the aſſaults of enemies, when they come in ſo great troops upon us. It is good counſel therefore at ſuch a time: Retire into your ſelf. Shut up your ſoul within doors, and let it not ſtir abroad. And truly he hath very honourable thoughts of us, who thinks us fit to bear our ſelves company. He repoſes a great confidence in us who dares truſt us to our ſelves. For there is no worſe ſociety for a man than his own, if he do not deſign to become good. Fools and mad men ought not to be left in their own hands. For as the wiſe employ their Solitude in pious counſels, and ſober advices for the good government of themſelves: ſo the wicked then meditate bad deſigns, and plot the fulfilling of naughty deſires. They whet their anger, or irritate their luſt, or brazen their foreheads to commit all villany: and what fear and ſhame concealed from the world, they bring forth then before themſelves, and prepare it to come abroad. See then what a good opinion I have conceived of you, in that I bid you not to fly your ſelf. I muſt needs take you for a man of worthy thoughts, or elſe I ſhould not permit you to be alone. And let me tell you, that I promiſe my ſelf you will improve your own company ſo well, as to be worthy at laſt to be truſted in the open World. When your mind is well fortified, and your reſolution confirmed; the World will need ſuch a good example, to reform the evil wherewith it abounds. We are not born for our ſelves alone; but others muſt feel there is a good man ſtill remaining among them. It is fit indeed that at certain times you ſhould all your life ſequeſter your ſelf from men; ſo it be without affectation of ſingularity, or making any noiſe: but there you muſt not bury your ſelf; nor make your Cloſet a Tomb, wherin to converſe with no body but the dead. Your Light muſt ſo ſhine before men, that ſeeing your good works, they may glorifie your Father which is in Heaven. And you muſt ſhew forth the praiſes of him, who hath called you out of darkneſs into his marvellous Light. But having given you an example of both theſe in the Bleſſed Jeſus, I will not ſuſpect your memory of ſo much unfaithfulneſs, as to think you ſtand in need to have thoſe inſtructions repeated. I will rather pray you to let me know how you find your ſelf in thoſe retirements, and whether you meet with ſo great ſatisfaction in them as now you expect to reap.
And truly afterward he confeſſed, that making his retreat very frequently into this Soveraign Privacy, he could not alway be Maſter of thoſe brave thoughts which he imagined he ſhould have enjoyed. That Life he ſaw had its imperfections, and he lookt to enjoy there thoſe delightful ſpectacles, which too often withdrew themſelves from his ſight, and could not be wooed to favour him with their continual preſence. He found that we do not yet live in the Country of Idaea's and the Land of Perfections: but that we dwell in lower Regions, andare forced to travel among Chimaeras', and to fight many times with monſtrous Imaginations. At the beſt we do but ſee the ſhadows of things; or if we gain a true Image of them, yet we muſt be content to ſit down a great way on this ſide of that excellent life, the Image of which we have conceived in our mind. The Pattern is too big for us while we are ſhut up in theſe Priſons. And to be ſo free in our thoughts and affections; it is neceſſary that we obtain a releaſe from theſe bodies. Only thus much benefit he reaped from this dear Solitude wherein he ſometimes reigned; that he was verily perſwaded he ſhould one day arrive at the Freedom and Peace of Jeruſalem. He could not think that his Soul ſhould alwayes dwell ſo far ſhort of that happy Country, of which he had ſuch a lovely picture in his mind. It ſeemed unreaſonable to imagine, that when all other things are ſuffered to grow to their height and utmoſt perfection; the ſpirit of man only ſhould ever remain a dwarf, or rather continue a child, and never be unlooſed from its ſwadling-bands. No, no; would he frequently ſay, I feel my Soul untying theſe Bands. It grows too great for theſe cloaths, and cannot ſuffer it ſelf to be thus confined. It aſpires to that happy State which admits of no defects, and will make me call my ſelf a Man. It longs and groans to be above it ſelf. It ſtretches its hands to reach the Perfection of Purity, and to lay hold on Eternal Life. It would fain remove from theſe ſhadows and hopes to converſe with the very things themſelves. Oh how it ſighs to do what it now deſigns! How it breathes after the enjoyment of that which it hath in deſire! The day will come ſure that ſhall caſt no cloud about my mind, nor ſtir the leaſt breath of inordinate paſſion in my ſoul. It will not be long before I be alwayes ſerene, and have the happineſs to live in a conſtant tranquillity and untroubled repoſe. The time I believe haſtens when my knowledge ſhall be ſo clear, that Faith ſhall find no employment, and Hope ſhall receive a diſcharge; and Charity ſhall be left alone in its full ſtrength.
With theſe and other ſuch like pleaſant thoughts they entertained themſelves as they travelled over many fair Plains; deceiving the length of the Miles by the variety of Diſcourſe, and the prettineſs of ſundry contemplations. For the truth is, His Good Angel (as I may call him) never fail'd to put him in mind of ſuch things as might be worthy of obſervation in their Journey, or might adminiſter a profitable or innocent delight to ſweeten their way. And among other things I remember that one day as they went through a certain place, which was more like a Garden than an High-way; He aſkt him if he was not afraid of thoſe ſtrange Beaſts in green ſkins, and thoſe armed men with weapons of the ſame colour in their hands. At which he ſmiling ſaid; though you have been conſcious to much of my weakneſs, yet I have ſo much courage, as not to be affrighted at the Images of things which I ſee cut in hedges. You ſhall ſee how confidently I will walk naked by that Lyon, and that the Bear in the other thicket ſhall ſtrike no terrour into me. And it pleaſes me very much to think that the trouble which my often-infirmities have given you is not ſo great, but that you can make your ſelf merry with them: and I am willing to recreate you a little more by bragging thus of my preſent boldneſs. Indeed, ſaid the Father, you could not have well gratified me more than you do, inſporting with that which others more moroſe would have taken for a reproach. But let us ſeriouſly I pray you conſider; Is there much more harm in many of thoſe things at which the world is wont to tremble? Do they not fly from terrible nothings, wherewith they ſee the wayes of Piety are beſet. The Reproaches which tear our names in pieces like a Lyon; the bitter words which mens tongues ſhoot like arrows in our faces; nay that great Bear, Poverty which turns ſo many out of the way; What are they? If you view them and all their fellows well, you will find they are as innocent, nay as profitable too as thoſe peaceable creatures which you here behold. They are but like thoſe Bows which are made of Bayes, and can do no hurt. Or like thoſe Guns which you ſee wrought in Roſemary and Sweet-Brier, and ſuch like things, which ſhoot flowers, and dart forth Muſk. Or like thoſe Beaſts of Hyſop and Thyme which are very Medicinal to thoſe who know how to uſe them.
From hence he fell into a very grave advice (which he ſaid could not be too often repeated) that he ſhould not fail to give God thanks for thoſe things which went croſs unto him, as much as he was wont to do for thoſe which were moſt conformable to his deſires. He ſhew'd him how we ſtand indebted to Divine Providence not only for our Food, but for our Phyſick alſo. He made him underſtand how the contempt we meet with from men, doth purge out Pride; how Poverty cures our Luxury and wanton deſires; and how nothing is ſo powerful as Sickneſs to deliver us from the great evil of Ingratitude: it being ſeldom known that men conſider the vaſt benefits of health till they be without it. In ſhort, he convinced him plainly that a great fulneſs of all things, is very apt to choak the ſenſe of God. That when men are in conſtant proſperity, as they want not abilities and inſtruments to ſin, ſo they want the ſtrong reſtraints of fear, of modeſty, and of good counſel to keep them from it. And though, ſaid he, if they wanted the laſt only, their condition would be ſad enough; yet it is ſeldom known that they have the benefit of it, becauſe there is either none to give it, or they are not apt to receive it. But adverſity will flatter no man, it ſelf ſupplying the place of an hundred Monitors; and being the only ſober and truſty Counſellor, which great men have in their retinue. And if there were no other advantage that it brings, we ſhould have great reaſon to thank God, that he would not let us dye without the company of a faithful friend.