The Parable of the Pilgrim, Parable · Chapter 34
CAP. XXXIV.
How they fell into the company of two Travellers. One of which would have pull'd out the Pilgrims eyes: and the other pulled away his Guide.
THeſe words were ſcarce cold upon his lips, when ſuddenly they heard the noiſe of an horſes heels behind them. Which cauſing them to turn their eyes back, a proper man well mounted preſented himſelf to them, iſſuing out of another rode upon the left hand and falling then into that wherein they were. When he was come up and had joyned himſelf to them; he aſkt preſently the common Queſtion, Whither travel you? They were not ſhy of making him a true anſwer, but told him that they were going to a place called Jeruſalem. You are well overtaken then replyed he, for that is the deſign of my journey alſo, and I ſhall be very glad of your company. But I muſt tell you, that if you have ſtill held this rode, you are very much out of your way or elſe all my knowledge fails me. For it lyes a great deal more on this hand (pointing to the left) and here we muſt now turn again and leave this wherein I find you, unleſs we mean to miſs of our aim and be lead to ſome other place. Let me be your Guide if you pleaſe, for I am ſo well acquainted with the way that it is impoſſible for me to miſtake it. You may truſt me; for I am confident though I ſhould ſhut mine eyes or go hoodwinkt thither I ſhould not miſlead you.
He ſpoke very gracefully and was witty in his conceits, excellent company alſo by reaſon of his pleaſant humour, and withall of a carriage very civil and inviting. But they obſerved that he had a ſword by his ſide and a pair of Piſtols before him, together with another Inſtrument hanging at his Belt which was formed for pulling out of eyes. This they thought was none of a Pilgrims habit, and they viewed him ſo carefully that they concluded he was one of that Brood who if they cannot perſwade Travellers into their way, will drive them into it, and then carry them blindfold for fear they ſhould forſake it. Whereupon the Father ſaid to him, Sir, do not think me rude if I be ſo plain with you, as to ſpeak in the ſtile of our uſual Proverb and let you know, that we had rather have your room then your company. We are ſtrongly poſſeſſed againſt thoſe who would make us believe we cannot ſee our way, unleſs we let them pull out our eyes. Nor will you ever be able to invent ſo many good words as to reconcile us to them; who when they find men in courſes contrary to their own, are not content to labour by reaſon to bring them to their bent, but ſhoot them to death if they ſtifly refuſe, as if they were but rogues and theeves. And you will have a great deal to do to perſwade us that you are not one of that number. We ſee what weapons you are provided of, and we ſhall never be convinced that they are innocent. We dread you more then the Banditti and all the lawleſs men in the World. We had rather fall into the hands of Turks and Barbarians, then live under your Tyranny. For though they ſtrip us of our clothes and ſpoil our goods; yet they will leave us our ſenſes and our reaſons of which you intend to bereave us. We may believe our eyes; and truſt our feeling and our taſt in their Country; but in yours they have loſt their credit and are deprived of their uſe in matters of the greateſt concernment. And therefore I wonder you are ſo confident of the way wherein you would guide us, ſince your eyes do not alwayes report things truly to you. You ſhall not ſee for us, ſince you acknowledge your ſight ſo deficient. We can be ſure of nothing if ſuch as you be our informers. Perhaps there is no ſuch perſon as Jeſus whom we ſeek, or he is a ſleep in his grave and we ſhall never ſee him at Jeruſalem. For though there are that have told us they ſaw him and handled him after he roſe again, by what means will you aſſure us that it was not an illuſion? Our hands and eyes may deceive us you ſay in other caſes, and therefore what priviledge had theirs from being cheated? But beſides, as I was going to ſay at the firſt, if you are ſo certain of your way as you pretend, I beſeech you why do you not make it good by better arguments, than thoſe that are made of Steel? Why cannot you illuminate us without caſting us into the midſt of a fire? who more likely to be wrong, than they who are confident they are in the right, and cannot prove it? It is a great ſign you intend to couzen us, becauſe you will not let us examine your Ware. Since you vend it in a dark ſhop, where no body can ſee it, we hold it in great ſuſpition of being nought. But if we do not like it, why will you not ſuffer us to let it alone? Why muſt we be forced to buy, or elſe pay for our refuſal with the price of our lives? Is this the way to make Chriſtians, never to conſider that they are men? Is this the mark of being filled with the Holy Ghoſt, to breathe forth nothing but threatnings and ſlaughters? Me-thinks you transform the Heavenly Dove into the ſhape of a Vulture or a Raven. We have heard of her ſweet nature, of her ſighs and mournings, but we are ſtrangers to her fierceneſs, and know nothing of her croaking for a prey. To give her claws, and arm her with talons and a bloody beak, what is it but to turn her into a Monſter? I cannot conceive, ſaith one of your own neighbours, but more ingenious than the reſt, that they ſhould be the Chriſtian Paſtors who become Butchers of the Flock: and that the Church which was for ſo many Ages in great perſecution, ſhould now it ſelf begin to perſecute. Or if you reckon us for thoſe creatures that are without the fold, then we are ſure to be worried by you. Though the Church be never ſo loving a Mother to you, yet ſhe hath no kindneſs at all for ſtrangers. You tell us indeed that ſhe opens her arms to us, but we doubt that it is to preſs us to death. Nay, Her breaſts we ſee do feed you with Blood, and not with Milk. Her children are cruel and ravenous, and therefore what would you have us to judge of her ſelf?
The Gentleman who ſeemed all the time to be much troubled at this diſcourſe, here interrupted it, and told him that he was too vehement; proteſting that he had no deſign to do them any hurt. We are as innocent people, continued he, as any in all the World, and if you would let us travel together, I would bring you to more good company, who ſhall give you all the aſſurance imaginable of our harmleſs intentions. Do but tell what ſecurity you deſire, and I will undertake it ſhall not be refuſed. I know them all ſo well, that I dare engage my Soul for their fidelity to their word. Undertake nothing, I beſeech you, replyed the Father for other folks. If you had engaged that pawn only for your ſelf it might be taken, becauſe you ſeem a Gentleman, and a perſon of good nature: but as for the moſt of your company, they can never give me the aſſurance which I ſhall deſire. There is but one ſecurity which I can confide in, and that is the ſame which the Lacedaemonian demanded of one who offered to ſeal him his faithful Friendſhip; viz. That if they have any will to do us any miſchief, they ſhall never have any power. There is none but this that is worth a ruſh: The reſt are all ſo vain and infirm, that none but fools will truſt unto them.
He had no ſooner ſaid this, but before there could be any room for a reply, they were all accoſted by another man of a quite different ſhape and humour from this; more ſad and melancholy, more rude, and of an heavier wit alſo; who croſſed their way upon the right hand. He making a ſtop a while as they paſſed by him, and hearing them talk of Jeruſalem; made no more ado but chopt into their company, and told them that if they were going thither, they held a very unſafe courſe; and ſhould wander in by-paths for ever, unleſs they went along with him in the way that he would ſhew them. To be ſhort; He preſſed them ſo earneſtly, with ſo loud a voice and ſo much heat, that the ſweat dropt down from his face. He did little leſs than thunder among them, and threatned them with eternal deſtruction if they did not hearken to him. And in fine he told them that he had cauſe to be thus vehement, for he was ſure he was in the right, and could not miſguide them. I like you the worſe for that, ſaid the young Pilgrim (who thought himſelf ſufficient to deal with this Hot-ſpur) and we ſhould have believed you ſooner if you had not pretended to Infallibility, and withall been ſo uncharitable. We met with your Elder Brother juſt now whom you ſee here, though perhaps you are not well acquainted with him. And if we could be moved at all with confidence, and the pretences of an unerring ſpirit, he had got the ſtart of you, and you had come too late to beg our aſſent. You both ſet up an Oracle, but his is the ancienter of the two; and more reſorted unto, and far better cuſtomed than yours. I wiſh that both your pretenſions were more modeſt. For me-thinks there is nothing ſo hateful as a man that gives us nothing but words, and is angry that we will not believe him. It would put a wiſe man into a paſſion, to ſee one uſe threatning geſtures inſtead of arguments. And provoke him to think the uſe of ſpeech a miſchief, when he hears poor and ſimple ſtuff uttered in terms that carry the ſtile of Edicts. But beſides this I obſerve, that as this man would have pulled out mine eyes, ſo you would pull away from me my Guide. You would have me travel alone by my own fancy, and take my ſelf to be as wiſe as the beſt. But for my part, I will alwayes be of the Religion which reverences the Conductors of Souls: and am glad with all mine heart that I have met with one both to teach and to watch over me. He would lead me as if I was a Beaſt, and had no underſtanding, and you would have me run like a Mad-man on my own head; but there is a middle between theſe and that is reaſon under the Guidance of the Wiſe. He would take away all Judgment from us: and you would have us take it all to our ſelves. I like neither, but would take ſome, and leave the reſt to others. Do not think, but that I will judge for my ſelf; but yet I will take a Director with me as God hath appointed, that ſo I may ſee to judge the better. Give me my eyes, ſay I to him that layes his hands upon them: and yet I cry to my Guide when I ſee the cleareſt, Lend me yours, for they are like to be better than mine own. A great many eyes are ſafer than one: Others may ſee that which I cannot diſcover my ſelf. Intereſt, Pride, Paſſion, and Prejudice have too great an hand in our own determinations; if I can find none that are quite void of them, yet I will conſult with thoſe that are like to have leſs than my ſelf. And if I cannot judge according to their ſenſe, yet I will never impoſe my own upon them. If I cannot follow, yet I will not preſume to lead. If I cannot be ſo humble as to quit my reaſon, yet I will not be ſo arrogant as to take upon me to Guide them, or to become a confident Teacher of others. Modeſty inſtructs me to think, that if they may miſtake, much more may I: that if they whoſe work it is to enquire into Truth, are not ſecure from Error, then I cannot claim that priviledge who have many other buſineſſes to attend. I will neither therefore contradict their opinion, nor deny my own. I will neither for the preſent become their follower, nor yet forſake their guidance.
The ſtranger did not expect to be encountred with ſuch an oppoſition as this, and ſo betray'd a little amazement at it. And beſides he was the more confounded when the Pilgrim eſpying a Dagger by his ſide, and a Piſtol peeping out of his pocket, thus proceeded to diſcourſe to him. But though you two are ſo different in your opinions, yet me-thinks you conſpire too much in your cruel practices. That young weapon of yours which I ſee at your Girdle doth make me ſtart. Your Dagger I doubt when it is a little fleſhed, will in a ſhort time grow to be a Sword. You are of the ſame perſecuting ſpirit with your neighbour, and will ſuffer no body to be of a contrary mind to your ſelf. And it is the worſe in you, becauſe you have often pretended to liberty, and will give none. It is your ſelf, I ſee, that you love, and no body elſe. You cry out of thoſe burdens, which you are ready to lay on other mens backs. You do that, of which you complain; and deſire only to change places with thoſe againſt whom you perpetually murmure. If you could but agree in other things, it would be beſt for you to go together, and leave us to our ſelves. Though we would willingly come to a fair accord (being I hope the children of peace) yet I doubt you are of the humour of thoſe men who are ſo obſtinate that they will not ſtoop a jot, nor bow their heads, though it be to take up ſuch a Bleſſed thing as Peace. It is very ſad indeed that there ſhould be ſuch natures found in the world, but it is ſo apparent that there are; that you will have a difficult taſk of it, to clear your ſelf from the imputation of being of that wilful party. Though Peace lye at their feet and intreat them to condeſcend a little for its ſake, they do not love it ſo well as to purchaſe it with the leaſt abatement of their own deſires. There is no way to divert their imagination from the object on which it is pitcht: and if they be once reſolved a thing muſt be done, all the world cannot change them from their aim. They are enemies to all accommodation, and ſo tyed to the forms they preſcribe themſelves; that it is impoſſible to reduce them to any equity, or to render them capable to remit of their rigour. Nay ſo far do ſome men forget themſelves, that as many who obſerve it have complained, they would rather fall, than deſcend and come down. They deſire all or nothing: they ſeek Death or elſe Victory. As for Peace which lyes between both, and which ought alwayes to be fought for by the vanquiſhed, and deſired by the victorious, they nothing care; unleſs they may have it on their own terms and conditions. If you intend then to have our company, you muſt throw away this ſtubborn, ſtiff, and reſolute diſpoſition which makes men loſe Peace for little or nothing. A yielding, compliant and gentle nature is the great friend of Peace, and the only ſoil wherein it will grow. For the preparing of which ſoil, there is nothing ſo neceſſary as Humility. It is Pride generally that makes men ſo obſtinate and pertinacious. A conceit of themſelves makes them fondly imagine that every body muſt ſubmit to them, and they to none. This therefore is as great an enemy to our happy agreement, as any the world hath. It obſtructs all paſſages to it: it makes a man ſtand upon punctilio's and formalities, as if they were of equal conſideration to Peace and Unity. It preferrs the leaſt trifle which ſupports its Grandeur before the greateſt Bleſſings that Heaven can beſtow. It makes men endleſly wrangle, when all that they can ſay ſignifies nothing, but that they have no mind to yield. You are better ſkilled than I it is to be preſumed in the Hiſtory of ancient times: And you cannot well chuſe but remember ſomething of a conteſt between the Athenians and King Philip about an Iſle that he had taken from them, and had a mind to reſtore. But then you cannot alſo but call to mind, how learnedly one of their proud Orators adviſed them, that if the words of the Treaty did import that he gave it to them, they ſhould refuſe it. He would rather have them loſe that which they could not get, than not have it by way of ſurrender, & reſtitution to them. Was not this a ſtrange foolery? What was it elſe but to prize the vanity of a word, before the ſolidity of the thing, as one hath obſerved on that Story? To ſtand upon a fancy and ſhadow of Honour, when a real intereſt was concerned? But ſuch is the nature of Pride, which thinks it ſelf diſgraced if you pluck an hair out of its head; and takes it ſelf to be undone, if it loſe but a word. Pride would have it ſo; and that will be obeyed, though men ſuffer ſoundly for it. And are not moſt of the Controverſies that divide the world about matters of the like high moment? Are they not in great part a ſcuffling about ſyllables, and a fighting with ſhadows and Idols of our own Imagination? Is there not very hot bickerings about hard phraſes? And is it not thought enough to make a man be killed, if he do not believe a barbarous word? Conſider whether your weapons are not like to be ingaged in theſe doughty quarrels. Whether you have not ſharpened them to ſerve in the cauſe of words. I doubt thoſe that I ſee you arm'd withall are provided to protect Cob-webs, and to defend the idle dreams and phantaſms of Sophiſters. But is not the World in a ſad caſe in the mean time? Is it not very ſtrange that it ſhould be ſo much at leiſure? They know very well ſure how to live and how to dye, or elſe they would find themſelves ſomething elſe to do. It ſeems God hath not told them enough to employ them, and ſo they invent words out of their own brain about which to fight eternally. Away for ſhame with this Vanity and Pride. Away with this conceitedneſs which hath thus embroiled the whole Earth, and ſeeks to draw Heaven into the Contention too. If you would have us joyn with you in any thing, it muſt be in our prayers, that God would give men ſuch a right ſenſe of themſelves, that they may become humble and lowly in heart. To this we will ſay Amen, both for our ſelves and all others. We will beg this day and night that he would incline mens hearts to peace, by inclining them to yield one to another. That he would beſtow upon them a ſoft and gentle diſpoſition of mind. That he would mollifie their hardneſs, and ſmoothe the roughneſs and ſeverity of their ſpirits. That all may be willing to quit their particular deſires for the General Good. That Self-denyal may have as great a place in all mens hearts as it hath in our Religion. And that all who call themſelves after the name of Chriſt, may learn of their Maſter, who was meek and lowly in heart; who did not cry, neither was his voice heard in the ſtreet: who did not quench the ſmoaking Flax, nor break the bruiſed Reed. Who did bear with the infirmities of thoſe that followed him, and is now ſuch an High Prieſt as can have compaſſion on the ignorant and them that are out of the way. Of theſe things we can be infallibly aſſured, and if you have mind to be as confident of other matters which we think either doubtful or falſe; trouble not the World with it, and we will not trouble you nor envy to you the height of your illumination.