The parable of the pilgrim written to a friend by Symon Patrick ...

CAP. XXIII.

What entertainment all these discourses met withall from the Pilgrim. And of the pleasures he should find in his way, though incumbred with the fore-na∣med Enemies.

AND now I am sure you will expect to hear that the Pilgrim broke his silence: If not to thank this person for the satisfaction he had received, yet to tell him how much he thought himself engaged by the pains which he had most friendly taken for his satis∣faction in the way to Jerusalem. But yet he could not for the present speak so much as one Word; such a violent passion seizing on him that it blockt up all other passages but only those for Tears. Which gush∣ing out apace and seeking for more vent then they could find; caused a greater obstruction, and were ready to choak not only his Words, but also Himself. The good man who had hitherto been his Guide, thought that now he must become his Physitian. And fearing that this passion might grow to some danger, and suspecting withall that it was the effect of a great sadness which he had conceived at his discourse; He went to him and taking him by the hand intreated him to resist this tide so long, till he could take so much breath as to tell him the cause of it. Now that the Pilgrim might show how obedient he was like to prove to the rest of his Words, he strove so earnestly with himself, that many Minutes were not passed be∣fore he recovered the use of his tongue and was able thus to speak to him. You have obliged me Sir so

much beyond all my expression by the Instructions you have bestowed upon me, that as an endeavour to do more then we can, doth frequently make us to do just nothing at all; so I felt enough from thence arising to stifle my words, while my Soul laboured such expres∣sions of Gratitude as could not be uttered. My Tears Sir could only tell you how much I think my self in∣debted to your Charity. For they did not spring from Grief as perhaps you might imagine, but from a very great joy, which flowed partly from the remem∣brance of the Providence which brought me hither, and partly from the sense of your friendly love, but chiefly from the good news you tell me, that the way to such a Blessed place as Jerusalem, is incumbred with no greater difficulties then you have related. O Sir I am overjoyed to hear that the journey will be no worse. It is a beginning of the pleasures I expect there, to know that the way is so good; for I was willing to have undertaken far greater things, rather then forsake my resolution of going thither. And here his voyce was intercepted by a new passion like to the former, though it was not long before it had spent it self and gave him liberty to utter his mind as freely as he pleased.

But before he could begin to discharge himself of those thoughts with which his Soul seemed to be fill'd, the other prevented him and told him that it was no small joy to him also to find himself so deceived and to meet with such a flood of joy in that place, where he feared he should have found a deluge of sorrow. And since, said he, you take so great content in what I have said about the way to Jerusalem, which others hear with as much heaviness as you did with pleasure; I

shall give you a fresh addition of joy by something else which I reserved as an incouragement to you, but now I see must be a part of your comfort. And truly by what I shall say, you will plainly see how well Jesus re∣wards his servants that are willing to obey him; giving them far more than they durst expect, and where they lookt for nothing but trouble and anguish, causing joy and gladness to spring up unto them. You shall never meet, I am confident, with worse entertainments, than I have mentioned in your way to Jerusalem, unless it be Death which we may meet with every where. But far better than have been spoken of, I do not fear to promise, if the Directions be followed which have been delivered to you. For besides the pleasures that will attend all your Victories, which are indeed unspeak∣able, and more than can be numbred; I must tell you there is much contentment to be fetcht from the con∣sideration of the way you are to go. Though in ma∣ny places it may be rugged and hard, as you already perceive, yet it is alwayes very straight and easie to hit, having none of those windings and turnings in it that perplex and intricate men in the contrary paths; which, me-thinks, is no small comfort to a Traveller. Do you not see how many thousand Arts men are at the labour to devise that they may cheat and circum∣vent their neighbours? What a number of shifts they are put unto to make good a lye, and to palliate a piece of knavery? What a loss they are at sometimes to compass their revenge, or to satisfie an unchast de∣sire? And what a vast burden of cares they are af∣flicted withall who do not depend on God? What troublesome thoughts, what fears and frights, what discontents and disgusts, and such like passions as di∣sturb their quiet they are continually pestered with∣all?

There is none can tell you how these men wan∣der up and down, and are at their wits end, and when one way fails, are put with as much incertainty to de∣vise a new, to attain that which they design. Where∣as the wayes wherein I would lead you are simple and plain, and lye so openly before your eyes, that you need not study what you have to do. Every body may soon know what Justice is, and there needs no Art at all to define it. To live purely, to forgive ene∣mies, to trust in God, and to speak the truth, are things of no intricacy, and will not torture your mind for one moment to know what belongs unto them. They are very straight paths, and there are no laby∣rinths in which they involve you. Bring but honesty enough, and there needs not much wit, and no cunning at all to follow these courses. Do but consider this well, and you will think it a great happiness to follow Jesus. For the obtaining of whose love and favour, of his rest and peace, you need not use any base Arts, nor practise deceitful tricks, nor work treasons, nor be at the charge to calumniate your neighbours, nor take the pains to lye and couzen, to cog and flatter, to hu∣mour the lusts of men, to contradict your reason, and wound your conscience. It will cost you neither bad nights, nor unquiet sleep, nor vexatious dayes, nor careful thoughts; it will stand you neither in the loss of honour, nor the loss of life and happiness; but in na∣tural and easie wayes, in pleasant and safe courses you may provide for the immortality of them both. I cannot but call them pleasant, because I am assured that when you are once used to the Rode, you will find the most rugged wayes to be more delightful, and in all regards more easie to the Pilgrims feet, than any of those are, which lead unto the opposite Countries. The greatest

difficulty will be at the first entrance, as indeed it uses to be in the beginning of all other labours; but when you and the wayes are once acquainted, I am confi∣dent you will not be perswaded to turn into any other paths, though you were infallibly assured they would lead you to the Imperial Throne, and make you Lord of the world. There is never a step of your Journey (as it were easy for me to demonstrate) but it will have something of sweetness in it; your soul will close with every thing that you have to do, no other∣wise than your stomach imbraces the meat it loves; you shall not stay for all your peace till you come to Jesus at Jerusalem, but he will make you know that all his wayes are pleasantness, and all his paths are peace.

And here I cannot but call to mind a pretty Fable,* 1.1 or as the Author of it saith, a most wholesome and sa∣cred Story, under the scheme and in the habit of a Tale; which will well represent unto you the easiness and pleasantness of the way to Jerusalem, and much en∣courage you in it. It is designed indeed to shew how much more safe, facile and happy it is for a Prince to rule his subjects by his Laws, than by an absolute will, and licentious power; but it may indifferently serve to instruct all manner of persons (who seek the way to Happiness as well as they, and may be taught by their great examples) how securely and comfortably they live, who observe the Laws of their Saviour, above those whose lust is their Law, and that have no other measure of goodness but their own sensual desires. It is in a Writer, I grant, that knew nothing of Jerusalem, but this will give you the greater pleasure, to hear that your way thither is so sure, that you may learn something of it from every body, even from those

that are but strangers to the place. The Story is this:

When Hercules was yet but a little Youth educated at Thebes, Mercury was one day sent to him from Heaven, that he might make a trial of his inclinations, and encou∣rage him in all vertuous and noble undertakings. For this end he carried him in unknown ways to the top of an high Mountain, which it would be too long to give you a description of in my Authors words. Thus much it is necessary for you to know, that it seemed but one to those who stood at the foot of it, having but one root and one body as far as their eyes could reach; but indeed was parted into two Hills before it came to its utmost height, which were also very widely distant the one from the other. The one of these was called the Royal Tower, or the Temple of King Jupiter: The other had the name of the Tyrannical Fort, the seat in old time of the proud Ty∣phon, whom Jupiter struck down with Thunder from Heaven. To these two there was a several access; and the way to that where Royalty dwelt was very safe, wide and plain, so that a man might ascend even in a Chariot to that lofty place, without any danger or fear of falling: But to the other the way was narrow, crooked, and so dange∣rous, that a man must creep upon his hands and feet who intended to come thither. Nay, so full of hazard it was, that many who adventured to go in it, had been seen to precipitate themselves, and were ut∣terly lost in a great Lake which was at the bottom of it. To those who beheld them afar off, they seemed, as I said before, to be but One; but the Royal Hill was far more eminent, lifting its head above the Region of the Air, and enjoying the benefit of the pure Sky; and the other was more depressed, having a cap of Clouds continually upon its head so thick and foggy, that they made it an obscure

and dismal place. Now Hercules being brought thither, and having the nature of this Mountain thus shown to him, was already touched with so much ambition as to desire to be admitted into the interiours of them both. Which he had no sooner signified, than it was by Mercury granted, who said, Follow me, and thou shalt behold most clearly the vast disparity of these two, which is altogether hid from the eyes of Fools. And presently he discovered to him upon the top of the former, a Woman sitting on a very splendid Throne: who was exceeding beautiful, and of goodly proportions; cloathed in white rayment, and having a Scepter in her hand neither of Sil∣ver nor Gold; but of a more pure and shining nature, like to that which Juno weilds. Her countenance was com∣posed of a mixture of smiles and gravity; so that all good men looked confidently upon her, and the evil were no more able to behold her, than they who have weak eyes can indure to turn them to the Sun. She seemed more∣over to be so fixed, and alwayes like her self, that her coun∣tenance and eyes did not betray so much as an inclination to change her serious sweetness. And indeed it was ad∣mirable to see the quiet, peaceableness and constant temper of that place, to behold the plenty of fair fruit, which it every where yielded, and to observe how all the creatures of every kind which lived there, did skip and dance round about it, as if they were tickled with an inward pleasure. Of Gold and Silver, and other Metals, there lay great heaps before her; and yet she seemed to be plea∣sed with none of them, but only in the fruits and in the several creatures which she beheld in such contentment sur∣rounding her. When Hercules therefore had fixed his eyes a while upon her, he blushed exceedingly, and fell down in a humble veneration of her, no otherwise than as a dutiful Child would do before a brave and generous Mother. And

having at last demanded of Mercury the name and con∣dition of this person, he told him, that it was the blessed and heavenly Queen, BASILEA, the Daughter of King Jupiter, whom he saw attended with many fair La∣dies that were easie to be discovered, and of no less Nobi∣lity than the Queen her self. It is true, replyed the young man, I behold, to my no small satisfaction, several divine persons waiting upon that Heaven-born Basilea; but may I be so happy as to know their Names also? She, said Mercury, on the Queens right hand, who looks upon us with a stern mild countenance, is Justice a person of great account, and very beautiful? Hard by her there stands Uprightness, or Integrity; who is so like the former, that you can scarce know them asunder, and is not infe∣riour to her in fairness. As for her whom thou be∣holdest on the other hand, a woman very specious and goodly, bravely cloathed, and smiling on us, her name is Peace. She that stands just before the Queen, and even touches her Scepter, an ancient gray-headed Matron, strong, and as thou easily seest, very magnanimous, She is called Law, or as others sometimes name her, Right Reason: A person who is of her Privy Council, and ne∣ver stirs from her, without whom it is a crime to do, or so much as to think any thing.

It would be too tedious to relate how the Youth was ra∣vished with this sight, and how he endeavoured to print his mind with it, so that he might never forget it. But in short, he gazed so long upon Basilea, and her Royal Attendants, that Mercury was fain to call to him, and bid him not to spend his whole time in that contemplation, but to descend a little with him, and look a while upon the other place also, which was not unworthy of his observa∣tion. And indeed he thought with himself that it might

be useful to him as well as this, and therefore he willingly consenting to go whither he would carry him, Mercury in∣stantly brought him to a certain path which led to the Tyrannical Tower. There they saw a great number who waited for an opportunity to croud into it (the way, as I told you, being very narrow) and many that were contend∣ing, yea killing one the other to force their passage. The Father there was murdering his children, the children dragged their Parents to execution, and one Brother em∣brued his hands in anothers blood: Desiring nothing else but the greatest evil, and calling that the highest Happiness, which is only Power and Folly married together. And first of all he bade him take notice of the entrance to that place, how dangerous it was, how full of precipices, and how it was so undermined in several pas∣sages, that the earth was ready to fall under those who trod upon it. All the way likewise he showed him was besmear∣ed with blood; and paved with skulls and dead mens bones, so that he saw it was not fit to let him set his foot in it, but he carried him in a fairer tract to an advantagious place, where he might take a just prospect of that part of the Moun∣tain whereon Tyranny had seated her self. To a great height she was raised, though (as I noted before) she could not be elevated to such a pitch, as to free her self from the vapours and mists which infect these lower Regions. But he could clearly discern that she studied be to like the incom∣parable Basilea, and therefore feigned and counterfeited as much as she could the face, the gestures, the very Air of that Queen of Beauties. Nay, her Throne seemed to be far higher and better than the others, having many fair sculp∣tures upon it, and being adorned with Gold, Ivory, Ebony, and such like varieties as Riches furnished her withall: But yet the foot of the Throne was not fixed, nor could all the wealth she was Mistress of procure, that it might stand

fast without any shaking or tottering at all. Nor was there any thing orderly and handsomely disposed about her; but every thing was fashioned to comport with the Ends of Glory, Pride and Luxury, which in truth reigned over her, as she over others. Many Scepters there were in her hand, and more then one Diadem upon her head; but they could not make her beautiful, because the more she studied to imi∣tate the others manners the more deformed and ugly she appeared. When she thought to come forth with her friendly smiles, the eyes of those that lookt upon her were entertain∣ed with nothing but a base and filthy kind of crafty grin. In stead also of the Gravity which she affected, a strange fierceness and terrour discovered it self in her looks. Nay, that she might seem magnanimous she would not often cast her eyes on those who approached her, but turn them ano∣ther way with a lofty disdain; whereby she became the object of all mens hatred, as they were of her scorn. Care she took of no body but her self; nor could she by all her care make her self to sit in quiet; but often stared round about her, and started up, or leaped out of her Throne, as if she sate uneasily, or apprehended some approaching dan∣ger. Gold she sometimes filthily kept in her very bosome; sometimes in a fright threw it abroad among the people; and then again snatched it out of their hands and was so greedy of it, that she pillaged every body that had but the least grain of it about them. And not to name her gar∣ments which he sayes were of divers colours, she her self used to be of as many colours as they. Being sometimes in Fears, sometimes in Anger; sometimes troubled with a fit of Jealousie, and sometimes over confident of her self and others. Now being very humble and servile; and presently after proud and insolent; at this moment laugh∣ing very loudly; and in the next as bitterly bewailing some misfortune or other. They that were about her also were

as different from the Attendants before named, as she her self was from the Queen. Their names were, Cruelty, Contumely, Iniquity, and Sedition, who all served only to corrupt her and bring her to destruction. And I must not forget to relate that instead of Friendship, of which all are in so great need, she was daily attended by a servile and illiberal fellow called Flattery, who was no less trea∣cherous to her then the rest, and indeed above all others sought her ruine. He was ever studying to form pleasing propositions; and if they were but grateful to her it was sufficient; for he never took any care about the good or hurt that was in them. It was a wonder to observe the Arts whereby he insinuated himself into her mind: what a strict intelligence he kept with her passions: and how he seized on all the avenues and lockt up all the passages of her soul when he was once possessed of it, that none could be admitted to such a confidence as himself. He was ever whispering some of his lewd Maxims into her ear, and breathing some vitious Counsel or other into her heart: But he did it so softly that they could then hear nothing that he said, and therefore he that relates the story hath reported nothing of it. But I have been informed by ano∣ther who hath approached very near to the secrets of that Villany, that he was wont to advance such doctrines as these. That a Prince ought not to suffer himself to be bound with the fetters of Laws. That it was below him to be subject to the Fancies and Visions of ancient Legislators. That every thing was Just which was his Will. And that it was a weak and feeble thing to seek to be beloved. A great spirit ought rather to indeavour to make himself feared: and at the most he should aim only at his, that he might not be hated. Nay I have heard that he should say (and I give you the very words of the person from whom I had it) That Honesty was the Vertue of a Merchant and

not of a Soveraign. That in Heaven they put the very Oaths of Princes in the same scales with those of Lovers. That Jupiter commands them to be thrown into the wind as trivial things and of no value. For this he alledged some Poet, for they were all the Divines which he consult∣ed, and were srequently also abused by him. And so in a way of Fooling and telling of Tales he perswaded her that she need not keep her word, nor tye her self to follow any thing else but her own desires. It would be too long to tell you how ingenious this person was in inventing plea∣sures: and how he studied to indear himself by shameful services. And indeed most of those things were then con∣cealed and had a curtain drawn before them, only thus much he overheard: That he jeared at Vertue and laught at Piety as a sneaking quality, and the effect of a creeping, weak and superstitious mind. And that he commended a voluptuous life out of all measure, calling them Fools whose nice and delicate consciences, made them rude and cruel to their flesh.

Now when Hercules had carefully view'd this Golden Creature with all her Servants, as well as he had done the other, Mercury, according to his Commission demanded of him, that he should tell him truly which of these did please him best and was held by him in greatest admirati∣on. To which he presently replyed, In good sadness, the former seemed to me so glorious, that I not only loved and admired her, but took her for a Goddess and thought her worthy of Worship and Imitation: But this is so odious and abominable in my opinion, that I would gladly have the liberty to throw her headlong from this high rock and break her neck. You know how much I loath the brutish∣ness of her life (continued he, as some Authours relate) and how I despise all her base and sordid pleasures. For

when Pleasure her self appeared to me in a Vision and pre∣sented me with all her beauties; you may well remember how I scorned her courtship, and resolved to embrace la∣borious Vertue as the Mistress of greater pleasures. There∣fore if it be not lawful for me to lay Violent hands on that Fury, yet let the heavens spurn her into that condition, which she kicks others down into; and let not prosperous Impiety be alwayes held as good as Vertue. This heat of his, Mercury repressed and bad him have Patience in as great esteem as any of the Vertues he had beheld; but his Judgement which he had given in favour of Basilea he praised and commended as it did deserve, and having told it unto Jupiter, That was the thing, they say, which gained him the Empire of the World, and moved the Heavens to commit all Mankind to his care and Go∣vernment.

I doubt I have tired you with this long Story, but I shall not trouble you much further. Nor shall I study to show you how fitly may hence be represented the Happiness of all other men in their several condi∣tions who take the wayes of Piety, and the Misery of all the rest who tread in any other path; for you are of capacity to do this service for your self. All that I shall say is only this, That to the men of this world they seem the very same as the Mountain in the story did: And because all things here fall alike to all, they think it is all one what course a man holds if it be but conformable to his own appetite. But you may look upon me if you please as standing in the place and qua∣lity of a Mercury to you, to show you the Holy Hill of God, and the beauteous City which is built upon it, and the Glorious Monarch which inhabits it, together with the way which leads thither, and the vast advan∣tages

which it hath over that Babel which men have built in their own fancies, and which would fain reach up to Heaven, but tumbles down together with them into endless ruine. And truly I cannot but fancy you to be another couragious Hercules, who seeing how high the ascent to that City is, and over what difficul∣ties you are to climb, yet are not at all dismaid, but resolved to march in the way thither, though all the Silver and Gold, all the Jollity and pleasure of the World should lye in the way on the other side. The Heavens no doubt applaud your choice and they bid me tell you it shall be well rewarded; nay, I have al∣ready shown you that you must needs be more happy in that course then in any else that can be invented. For though the Hill be high and steep which you are to mount, yet the way is plain and easie, pleasures guard it round about, and a glorious place it brings you unto at the last. As you will totally escape those wayes wherein, according to the story now told, there are nothing but intricacy and uncertainty, mists and darkness, trouble and sorrow, anxiety and disquiet, and in a word a great deal of pains to make a man doubly miserable: So you will be conducted in plain, natural, and unperplexed paths, in paths of pleasure and peace, of confidence and assurance, of light and serenity, of set ledness and stediness of mind, which will not let you be a stranger to an abundant happiness. I know the pretended satisfactions in the other way may make a greater show, and appear more splendid, accompanied with more pomp and noise: but if you be in love with still and silent joyes, with grave de∣lights and serious pleasures, they are only to be found in this way which I have pointed you unto. You shall never tremble in the midst of these enjoyments, nor

shall you be troubled with fear lest you should lose your happiness. There are no mock-smiles here, when the heart is wrung within: but the ease of the mind makes the countenance smooth, and the joy of the heart casts a splendor into the eyes and a sweetness into the face. You shall never be flattered and cheated here with the delusions of momentary plea∣sures: but every tast you have of joy shall be an assu∣rance of an everlasting felicity. Nay, you shall give a great joy to others also, and please them as well as your self. You shall make all that are about you to rejoyce, and their contentment will be an addition to your own. The satisfaction of making others happy and seeing them full of comfort by your means; will not let you doubt of your own happiness, nor want that peace which you give to them. And then after all this, you shall find your self at last, though not made Master of all this World; yet brought to Jeru∣salem the City of the great King, of the Lord of all; there to reign with him in eternal Glory.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Dion. P••us Orat. 1. de Reg.