The Pilgrims are found by Giant Despair, that they had lost their way. Then said the giant. "You have this night trespassed on me by trampling and lying on my ground, 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, in 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 acquaintance. (Psalm lxxxviii. 18.) Now in this place Christian had double sorrow, because it was through his unadvised haste that they were brought into this distress." X * Below the picture of Doubting-castle: The pilgrims now, to gratify the flesh, Who seek to please the flesh, themselves undo. Christian is about to be exhibited in a state of mind directly the reverse of that in which we have lately beheld him; instead of abounding in the full assurance of hope, overcome by doubts, and lying down in despair. To bring the scene fully before the reader, let him consider the following lamentations of the Psalmist. "For my soul is full of troubles, and my life draweth nigh unto the grave. I am counted with them that go down into the pit. I am as a man that hath no strength: Free among the dead, like the slain that lie in the grave, whom thou rememberest no more; and they are cut off from thy hand. Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit, in darkness, in the deeps. Thy wrath lieth hard upon me, and thou hast afflicted me with all thy waves. Thou hast put away mine acquaintance far from me; thou hast made me an abomination unto them: 1 am shut up, and I cannot come forth," &c. Psal. lxxxviii. 3-8. The Psalmist, when he uttered the language of this psalm, was a prisoner in "Doubting-castle," kept by Giant Despair." Mr. Bunyan was well acquainted with such a painful state of mind, and intended doubtless rather to represent his own experience, than that of believers in general. Some christians perform the whole journey from the "City of Destruction" to the "celestial country,' without ever being prisoners in Doubting-castle; that is to say, they know nothing experimentally of the darkness and distress of sou which Mr. Bunyan had experienced, and which are here described. and cast into the Prison of Doubting-castle 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 counselled him, that when he arose in the morn The causes which led to this state of mind are described with great accuracy. The pilgrims were discontented, because they met with difficulties which they had not anticipated. To avoid these, they went out of the highway of duty into "by-paths," that by measures of carnal policy they might get out of their afflictions. Under the guidance of "vain-confidence," they were led farther and farther out of the road; and when this vain-confidence was destroyed, they were involved in distress and danger. But while hope was at all in exercise, they endeavoured to return, encouraged by the promises to them who walk in the path of duty and safety. Sinful security will be followed by sorrow; and despondency, unless removed by hope, will sink into despair. The time so exactly mentioned, from Wednesday morning to Saturday night, probably denotes some part of Mr. Bunyan's life, when for four days and nights he endured the tormenting agonies of despair, without any relief or comfort. The following is perhaps the experience to which he alludes. "I found it a hard work now to pray to God, because despair was swallowing me up. I thought I was, as with a tempest, driven away from God; for always when I cried to God for mercy, this would come in, Tis too late; I'am lost; God hath let me fall, not to my correction, but to my condemnation. My sin is unpardonable; and I know concerning Esau, how that after he had sold his birthright, when he would have inherited the blessing, he was rejected. About this time, I did light on the dreadful story of that miserable mortal, FRANCIS SPIRA; a book, which was to my troubled spirit as salt when rubbed into fresh wound. Every sentence in that book, every groan of that man, with all the rest of his actions in his dolours, as his tears, his prayers, his gnashing of teeth, his wringing of hands, his twisting, and languishing, and pining away under that mighty hand of God that was upon him, were as knives and daggers in my soul. Especially that sentence of his was frightful to me, 'Man knows the beginning sin, but who bounds the issues thereof ?' How would the former sentence, as the conclusion of all, fall like hot thunderbolts again upon my conscience; 'For ye know how that afterward, when he would have inherited the blessing, he was rejected!'" Life, p. 61. Giant Despair beats the Pilgrims, ing he should beat them without mercy. So when he arose, he got him a grievous crabtree cudgel, and went down into the dungeon to them, and there first fell to rating them as if they were dogs, although they gave him never a word of distaste: then he fell upon them, and beat them fearfully, in such sort that they were not able to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. This done, he withdrew, and left them there to condole their misery, and to mourn under their distress: so all that day they spent their time in nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations. The next night she talked with her husband about them further, and understanding that they were yet alive, did advise him to counsel them to make away with themselves. So when morning was come, he went 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 life, 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 tine the use of his hand: 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 not; and thus they began to discourse: CHR. 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 vii. 15.) Shall we be ruled by the giant?" The companion of Despair" is "Diffidence," or a distrust of and exhorts them to destroy them selves. HOPE. Indeed our present condition is dreadful, and death would be far more welcome to me than thus for ever to abide but 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 bis counsel to kill ourselves. Besides, he that kills another, can only commit murder upon his body. but for one to kill himself, is to kill body and soul at once. And moreover, my brother, thon talkest of ease in the grave; but hast thou forgotten the hell, whither for certain murderers go? for "no murderer bath eternal life abiding in him." And let us consider again, that all the law is not in the hand of Giant Despair; others, so far I can understand, have been taken by him, as well as we, and yet have escaped out of his hands. Who knows but 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 God's faithfulness, and a want of confidence in his mercy. When a christian follows such counsels, gloom and horror of mind will be produced, life will become a burden, death will appear desirable, and melancholy feelings will suggest, that the only way to get rid of mental anguish is the commission of suicide. By the giant's falling into fits in sunshiny weather, is meant the interposition of providence, or the transient gleams of comfort which operate to prevent a believer from sinking into total despair, or from dying by his own hand. The purposes of mercy, in consequence of which "all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose," (Rom. viii. 28.) secure the real believer from committing a sin, which, because it cannot be repented of, must be unpardonable, unless indeed his mind be entirely deranged, so that he is no longer an accountable agent. Genuine believers are 66 kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation," and are the subjects of that principle of eternal life which will preserve them from perishing. Hopeful encourages his Brother fool that I did not try to do it before. But however, my brother, let us be patient, and endure for 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 that day in the dark, in their sad and doleful condition." Well, towards evening the giant went down into the The arguments employed by Hopeful to dissuade from selfmurder cannot but appear conclusive to persons who "tremble at the words of God,” (Ezra ix. 4.) and whose minds are influenced by the principles of divine revelation. The fear of eternal wrath, and the hope, however feeble, of deliverance from such distressing gloom and despondency, are sufficient to moderate the mind of a genuine christian, though they may have no influence upon that of an unbeliever. The enemies of religion have often attributed suicide, or attempts to commit it, to the influence of religion, supposing, from the views which they form of it, that its tendency is to produce dejection and melancholy. The fact appears to be, as religious persons are subject in common with others to all the afflictions to which either the body or the mind is incident, that there have been many instances of great mental afflictions, and some of suicide, among professors of religion; and that these have excited a greater degree of observation. The case of the amiable religious poet CowPER was of this kind. But if persons were to judge without prejudice, they would, it is presumed, conclude rather, that his religious principles, so far from driving him to suicide, were the grand preservative from it. It is probable, that the following extract from his poem on "Hope" describes himself, as it certainly does the state of Christian in Doubting-castle. "If ever thou hast felt another's pain, And with it ev'ry joy it can afford; And whether at the toilette of the fair Or if in mascaline debate he shared, That conscience thus performs her proper And writes a doomsday sentence on m. heart. He now perceives where earthly pleasure Hard task for one who lately knew no care! |