Not
a great while ago, passing through the gate of dreams, I visited
that region of the earth in which lies the famous city of Destruction.
It interested me much to learn that, by the public spirit of some of
the inhabitants, a rail-road has recently been established between this
populous and flourishing town, and the Celestial City. Having a little
time upon my hands, I resolved to gratify a liberal curiosity to make a
trip thither. Accordingly, one fine morning, after paying my bill at
the hotel, and directing the porter to stow my luggage behind a coach,
I took my seat in the vehicle and set out for the Station House. It was
my good fortune to enjoy the company of a gentleman--one Mr.
Smooth-it-away--who, though he had never actually visited the Celestial
City, yet seemed as well acquainted with its laws, customs, policy, and
statistics, as with those of the city of Destruction, of which he was a
native townsman. Being, moreover, a Director of the rail-road
corporation, and one of its largest stockholders, he had it in his
power to give me all desirable information respecting that praiseworthy
enterprise.
Our coach
rattled out of the city, and, at a
short distance
from its outskirts, passed over a bridge, of elegant construction, but
somewhat too slight, as I imagined, to sustain any considerable weight.
On both sides lay an extensive quagmire, which could not have been more
disagreeable either to sight or smell, had all the kennels of the earth
emptied their pollution there.
"This,"
remarked Mr. Smooth-it-away, "is the
famous Slough
of Despond--a disgrace to all the neighborhood; and the greater, that
it might so easily be converted into firm ground."
"I have
understood," said I, "that efforts have
been made
for that purpose, from time immemorial. Bunyan mentions that above
twenty thousand cart-loads of wholesome instructions had been thrown in
here, without effect."
"Very
probably!--and what effect could be
anticipated from
such unsubstantial stuff?" cried Mr. Smooth-it-away. "You observe this
convenient bridge. We obtained a sufficient foundation for it by
throwing into the slough some editions of books of morality, volumes of
French philosophy and German rationalism, tracts, sermons, and essays
of modern clergymen, extracts from Plato, Confucius, and various Hindoo
sages, together with a few ingenious commentaries upon texts of
Scripture--all of which, by some scientific process, have been
converted into a mass like granite. The whole bog might be filled up
with similar matter."
It really
seemed to me, however, that the bridge
vibrated
and heaved up and down in a very formidable manner; and, in spite of
Mr. Smooth-it-away's testimony to the solidity of its foundation, I
should be loathe to cross it in a crowded omnibus; especially, if each
passenger were encumbered with as heavy luggage as that gentleman and
myself. Nevertheless, we got over without accident, and soon found
ourselves at the Station House. This very neat and spacious edifice is
erected on the site of the little Wicket-Gate, which formerly, as all
old pilgrims will recollect, stood directly across the highway, and, by
its inconvenient narrowness, was a great obstruction to the traveler of
liberal mind and expansive stomach. The reader of John Bunyan will be
glad to know, that Christian's old friend Evangelist, who was
accustomed to supply each pilgrim with a mystic roll, now presides at
the ticket office. Some malicious persons, it is true, deny the
identity of this reputable character with the Evangelist of old times,
and even pretend to bring competent evidence of an imposture. Without
involving myself in a dispute, I shall merely observe, that, so far as
my experience goes, the square pieces of pasteboard, now delivered to
passengers, are much more convenient and useful along the road, than
the antique roll of parchment. Whether they will be as readily received
at the gate of the Celestial City, I decline giving an opinion.
A large number
of passengers were already at the
Station
House, awaiting the departure of the cars. By the aspect and demeanor
of these persons, it was easy to judge that the feelings of the
community had undergone a very favorable change, in reference to the
Celestial pilgrimage. It would have done Bunyan's heart good to see it.
Instead of a lonely and ragged man, with a huge burthen on his back,
plodding along sorrowfully on foot, while the whole city hooted after
him, here were parties of the first gentry and most respectable people
in the neighborhood, setting forth towards the Celestial City, as
cheerfully as if the pilgrimage were merely a summer tour. Among the
gentlemen were characters of deserved eminence, magistrates,
politicians, and men of wealth, by whose example religion could not but
be greatly recommended to their meaner brethren. In the ladies'
apartment, too, I rejoiced to distinguish some of those flowers of
fashionable society, who are so well fitted to adorn the most elevated
circles of the Celestial City. There was much pleasant conversation
about the news of the day, topics of business, politics, or the lighter
matters of amusement; while religion, though indubitably the main thing
at heart, was thrown tastefully into the background. Even an infidel
would have heard little or nothing to shock his sensibility.
One great
convenience of the new method of going
on
pilgrimage, I must not forget to mention. Our enormous burthens,
instead of being carried on our shoulders, as had been the custom of
old, were all snugly deposited in the baggage-car, and, as I was
assured, would be delivered to their respective owners at the journey's
end. Another thing, likewise, the benevolent reader will be delighted
to understand. It may be remembered that there was an ancient feud
between Prince Beelzebub and the keeper of the Wicket-Gate, and that
the adherents of the former distinguished personage were accustomed to
shoot deadly arrows at honest pilgrims, while knocking at the door.
This dispute, much to the credit as well of the illustrious potentate
above-mentioned, as of the worthy and enlightened Directors of the
rail-road, has been pacifically arranged, on the principle of mutual
compromise. The Prince's subjects are now pretty numerously employed
about the Station House, some in taking care of the baggage, others in
collecting fuel, feeding the engines, and such congenial occupations;
and I can conscientiously affirm, that persons more attentive to their
business, more willing to accommodate, or more generally agreeable to
the passengers, are not to be found on any rail-road. Every good heart
must surely exult at so satisfactory an arrangement of an immemorial
difficulty.
"Where is Mr.
Greatheart?" inquired I. "Beyond a
doubt, the
Directors have engaged that famous old champion to be chief conductor
on the rail-road?"
"Why, no," said
Mr. Smooth-it-away, with a dry
cough. "He
was offered the situation of brake-man; but, to tell you the truth, our
friend Greatheart has grown preposterously stiff and narrow in his old
age. He has so often guided pilgrims over the road, on foot, that he
considers it a sin to travel in any other fashion. Besides, the old
fellow had entered so heartily into the ancient feud with Prince
Beelzebub, that he would have been perpetually at blows or ill language
with some of the Prince's subjects, and thus have embroiled us anew.
So, on the whole, we were not sorry when honest Greatheart went off to
the Celestial City in a huff, and left us at liberty to choose a more
suitable and accommodating man. Yonder comes the conductor of the
train. You will probably recognize him at once."
The engine at
this moment took its station in
advance of the
cars, looking, I must confess, much more like a sort of mechanical
demon that would hurry us to the infernal regions, than a laudable
contrivance for smoothing our way to the Celestial City. On its top sat
a personage almost enveloped in smoke and flame, which--not to startle
the reader--appeared to gush from his own mouth and stomach, as well as
from the engine's brazen abdomen.
"Do my eyes
deceive me?" cried I. "What on earth
is this! A
living creature?--if so, he is own brother to the engine he rides upon!"
"Poh, poh; you
are obtuse!" said Mr.
Smooth-it-away, with a
hearty laugh. "Don't you know Apollyon, Christian's old enemy, with
whom he fought so fierce a battle in the Valley of Humiliation? He was
the very fellow to manage the engine; and so we have reconciled him to
the custom of going on pilgrimage, and engaged him as chief conductor."
"Bravo, bravo!"
exclaimed I, with irrepressible
enthusiasm,
"This shows the liberality of the age; this proves, if anything can,
that all musty prejudices are in a fair way to be obliterated. And how
will Christian rejoice to hear of this happy transformation of his old
antagonist! I promise myself great pleasure in informing him of it,
when we reach the Celestial City."
The passengers
being all comfortably seated, we
now rattled
away merrily, accomplishing a greater distance in ten minutes than
Christian probably trudged over, in a day. It was laughable while we
glanced along, as it were, at the tail of a thunderbolt, to observe two
dusty foot-travelers, in the old pilgrim-guise, with cockle-shell and
staff, their mystic rolls of parchment in their hands, and their
intolerable burthens on their backs. The preposterous obstinacy of
these honest people, in persisting to groan and stumble along the
difficult pathway, rather than take advantage of modern improvements,
excited great mirth among our wiser brotherhood. We greeted the two
pilgrims with many pleasant gibes and a roar of laughter; whereupon,
they gazed at us with such woeful and absurdly compassionate visages,
that our merriment grew tenfold more obstreperous. Apollyon, also,
entered heartily into the fun, and contrived to flirt the smoke and
flame of the engine, or of his own breath, into their faces, and
envelope them in an atmosphere of scalding steam. These little
practical jokes amused us mightily, and doubtless afforded the pilgrims
the gratification of considering themselves martyrs.
At some
distance from the rail-road, Mr.
Smooth-it-away
pointed to a large, antique edifice, which, he observed, was a tavern
of long standing, and had formerly been a noted stopping-place for
pilgrims. In Bunyan's road-book it is mentioned as the Interpreter's
House.
"I have long
had a curiosity to visit that old
mansion,"
remarked I.
"It is not one
of our stations, as you
perceive," said my
companion. "The keeper was violently opposed to the rail-road; and well
he might be, as the track left his house of entertainment on one side,
and thus was pretty certain to deprive him of all his reputable
customers. But the foot-path still passes his door; and the old
gentleman now and then receives a call from some simple traveler, and
entertains him with fare as old-fashioned as himself."
Before our talk
on this subject came to a
conclusion, we
were rushing by the place where Christian's burthen fell from his
shoulders, at the sight of the Cross. This served as a theme for Mr.
Smooth-it-away, Mr. Live-for-the-world, Mr. Hide-sin-in-the-heart, Mr.
Scaly Conscience, and a knot of gentlemen from the town of Shun
Repentance, to descant upon the inestimable advantages resulting from
the safety of our baggage. Myself, and all the passengers indeed,
joined with great unanimity in this view of the matter; for our
burthens were rich in many things esteemed precious throughout the
world; and especially, we each of us possessed a great variety of
favorite Habits, which we trusted would not be out of fashion, even in
the polite circles of the Celestial City. It would have been a sad
spectacle to see such an assortment of valuable articles tumbling into
the sepulcher.
Thus pleasantly
conversing on the favorable
circumstances of
our position, as compared with those of past pilgrims, and of
narrow-minded ones at the present day, we soon found ourselves at the
foot of the Hill Difficulty. Through the very heart of this rocky
mountain a tunnel has been constructed, of most admirable architecture,
with a lofty arch and a spacious double-track; so that, unless the
earth and rocks should chance to crumble down, it will remain an
eternal monument of the builder's skill and enterprise. It is a great
though incidental advantage, that the materials from the heart of the
Hill Difficulty have been employed in filling up the Valley of
Humiliation; thus obviating the necessity of descending into that
disagreeable and unwholesome hollow.
"This is a
wonderful improvement, indeed," said
I. "Yet I
should have been glad of an opportunity to visit the Palace Beautiful,
and be introduced to the charming young ladies--Miss Prudence, Miss
Piety, Miss Charity, and the rest--who have the kindness to entertain
pilgrims there."
"Young ladies!"
cried Mr. Smooth-it-away, as
soon as he
could speak for laughing. "And charming young ladies! Why, my dear
fellow, they are old maids, every soul of them--prim, starched, dry,
and angular--and not one of them, I will venture to say, has altered so
much as the fashion of her gown, since the days of Christian's
pilgrimage."
"Ah, well,"
said I, much comforted, "then I can
very readily
dispense with their acquaintance."
The respectable
Apollyon was now putting on the
steam at a
prodigious rate; anxious, perhaps, to get rid of the unpleasant
reminiscences connected with the spot where he had so disastrously
encountered Christian. Consulting Mr. Bunyan's road-book, I perceived
that we must now be within a few miles of the Valley of the Shadow of
Death; into which doleful region, at our present speed, we should
plunge much sooner than seemed at all desirable. In truth, I expected
nothing better than to find myself in the ditch on one side or the quag
on the other. But on communicating my apprehensions to Mr.
Smooth-it-away, he assured me that the difficulties of this passage,
even in its worst condition, had been vastly exaggerated, and that, in
its present state of improvement, I might consider myself as safe as on
any rail-road in Christendom.
Even while we
were speaking, the train shot into
the
entrance of this dreaded Valley. It was gratifying... to observe how
much care had been taken to dispel the everlasting gloom, and supply
the defect of cheerful sunshine; not a ray of which has ever penetrated
among these awful shadows. For this purpose, the inflammable gas, which
exudes plentifully from the soil, is collected by means of pipes, and
thence communicated to a quadruple row of lamps, along the whole extent
of the passage. Thus a radiance has been created, even out of the fiery
and sulfurous curse that rests forever upon the Valley; a radiance
hurtful, however, to the eyes, and somewhat bewildering, as I
discovered by the changes which it wrought in the visages of my
companions. In this respect, as compared with natural daylight, there
is the same difference as between truth and falsehood; but if the
reader has ever traveled through the dark Valley, he will have learned
to be thankful for any light that he could get; if not from the sky
above, then from the blasted soil beneath. Such was the red brilliancy
of these lamps, that they appeared to build walls of fire on both sides
of the track, between which we held our course at lightning speed,
while a reverberating thunder filled the Valley with its echoes. Had
the engine run off the track--a catastrophe, it is whispered, by no
means unprecedented--the bottomless pit, if there be any such place,
would undoubtedly have received us. Just as some dismal fooleries of
this nature had made my heart quake, there came a tremendous shriek,
careering along the Valley as if a thousand devils had burst their
lungs to utter it, but which proved to be merely the whistle of the
engine, on arriving at a stopping-place.
The spot, where
we had now paused, is the same
that our
friend Bunyan--truthful man, but infected with many fantastic
notions--has designated, in terms plainer than I like to repeat, as the
mouth of the infernal region. This, however, must be a mistake;
inasmuch as Mr. Smooth-it-away, while we remained in the smoky and
lurid cavern, took occasion to prove that Tophet--the place of
fire--has not even a metaphorical existence. The place, he assured us,
is no other than the crater of a half-extinct volcano, in which the
Directors had caused forges to be set up, for the manufacture of
rail-road iron. Hence, also, is obtained a plentiful supply of fuel for
the use of the engines. Whoever had gazed into the dismal obscurity of
the broad cavern-mouth, whence ever and anon darted huge tongues of
dusky flame, and had seen the strange, half-shaped monsters, and
visions of faces horribly grotesque, into which the smoke seemed to
wreathe itself, and had heard the awful murmurs, and shrieks, and deep
shuddering whispers of the blast, sometimes forming themselves into
words almost articulate,--he would have seized upon Mr.
Smooth-it-away's comfortable explanation, as greedily as we did. The
inhabitants of the cavern, moreover, were unlovely personages, dark,
smoke-begrimed, generally deformed, with misshapen feet, and a glow of
dusky redness in their eyes; as if their hearts had caught fire, and
were blazing out of the upper windows. It struck me as a peculiarity,
that the laborers at the forge, and those who brought fuel to the
engine, when they began to draw short breath, positively emitted smoke
from their mouth and nostrils.
Among the
idlers about the train, most of whom
were puffing
cigars which they had lighted at the flame of the crater, I was
perplexed to notice several who, to my certain knowledge, had
heretofore set forth by rail-road for the Celestial City. They looked
dark, wild, and smoky, with a singular resemblance, indeed, to the
native inhabitants; like whom, also, they had a disagreeable propensity
to ill-natured gibes and sneers, the habit of which had wrought a
settled contortion of their visages. Having been on speaking terms with
one of these persons--an indolent, good-for-nothing fellow, who went by
the name of Take-it-easy--I called him, and inquired what was his
business there.
"Did you not
start," said I, "for the Celestial
City?"
"That's a
fact," said Mr. Take-it-easy,
carelessly puffing
some smoke into my eyes. "But I heard such bad accounts, that I never
took pains to climb the hill, on which the city stands. No business
doing--no fun going on--nothing to drink, and no smoking allowed--and a
thrumming of church-music from morning till night! I would not stay in
such a place, if they offered me house-room and living free."
"But, my good
Mr. Take-it-easy," cried I, "why
take up your
residence here, of all places in the world?"
"Oh," said the
loafer, with a grin, "it is very
warm
hereabouts, and I meet with plenty of old acquaintances, and altogether
the place suits me. I hope to see you back again, some day soon. A
pleasant journey to you!"
While he was
speaking, the bell of the engine
rang, and we
dashed away, after dropping a few passengers, but receiving no new
ones. Rattling onward through the Valley, we were dazzled with the
fiercely gleaming gas-lamps, as before. But sometimes, in the dark of
intense brightness, grim faces, that bore the aspect and expression of
individual sins, or evil passions, seemed to thrust themselves through
the veil of light, glaring upon us, and stretching forth a great dusky
hand, as if to impede our progress. I almost thought, that they were my
own sins that appalled me there. These were freaks of
imagination--nothing more, certainly--mere delusions, which I ought to
be heartily ashamed of--but, all through the Dark Valley, I was
tormented, and pestered, and dolefully bewildered, with the same kind
of waking dreams. The mephitic gases of that region intoxicate the
brain. As the light of natural day, however, began to struggle with the
glow of the lanterns, these vain imaginations lost their vividness, and
finally vanished with the first ray of sunshine that greeted our escape
from the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Ere we had gone a mile beyond
it, I could well nigh have taken my oath, that this whole gloomy
passage was a dream...
It was late in
the day, when the train thundered
into the
ancient city of Vanity, where Vanity Fair is still at the height of
prosperity, and exhibits an epitome of whatever is brilliant, gay, and
fascinating, beneath the sun. As I purposed to make a considerable stay
here, it gratified me to learn that there is no longer the want of
harmony between the townspeople and pilgrims, which impelled the former
to such lamentably mistaken measures as the persecution of Christian,
and the fiery martyrdom of Faithful. On the contrary, as the new
rail-road brings with it great trade and a constant influx of
strangers, the lord of Vanity Fair is its chief patron, and the
capitalists of the city are among the largest stockholders. Many
passengers stop to take their pleasure or make their profit in the
Fair, instead of going onward to the Celestial City. Indeed, such are
the charms of the place, that people often affirm it to be the true and
only heaven; stoutly contending that there is no other, that those who
seek further are mere dreamers, and that, if the fabled brightness of
the Celestial City lay but a bare mile beyond the gates of Vanity, they
would not be fools enough to go thither. Without subscribing to these,
perhaps, exaggerated encomiums, I can truly say, that my abode in the
city was mainly agreeable, and my conversation with the inhabitants
productive of much amusement and instruction.
Being naturally
of a serious turn, my attention
was directed
to the solid advantages derivable from a residence here, rather than to
the effervescent pleasures, which are the grand object with too many
visitants. The Christian reader, if he have no accounts of the city
later than Bunyan's time, will be surprised to hear that almost every
street has its church, and that the reverend clergy are nowhere held in
higher respect than at Vanity Fair. And well do they deserve such
honorable estimation; for the maxims of wisdom and virtue which fall
from their lips, come from as deep a spiritual source, and tend to as
lofty a religious aim, as those of the sagest philosophers of old. In
justification of this high praise, I need only mention the names of the
Rev. Mr. Shallow-deep; the Rev. Mr. Stumble-at-truth; that fine old
clerical character, the Rev. Mr. This-to-day, who expects shortly to
resign his pulpit to the Rev. Mr. That-to-morrow; together with the
Rev. Mr. Bewilderment; the Rev. Mr. Clog-the-spirit; and, last and
greatest, the Rev. Dr. Wind-of-doctrine. The labors of these eminent
divines are aided by those of innumerable lecturers, who diffuse such a
various profundity, in all subjects of human or celestial science, that
any man may acquire an omnigenous erudition, without the trouble of
even learning to read. Thus literature is etherealized by assuming for
its medium the human voice; and knowledge, depositing all its heavier
particles--except, doubtless, its gold--becomes exhaled into a sound,
which forthwith steals into the ever-open ear of the community. These
ingenious methods constitute a sort of machinery, by which thought and
study are done to every person's hand, without his putting himself to
the slightest inconvenience in the matter. There is another species of
machine for the wholesale manufacture of individual morality. This
excellent result is effected by societies for all manner of virtuous
purposes; with which a man has merely to connect himself, throwing, as
it were, his quota of virtue into the common stock; and the president
and directors will take care that the aggregate amount be well applied.
All these, and other wonderful improvements in ethics, religion, and
literature, being made plain to my comprehension, by the ingenious Mr.
Smooth-it-away, inspired me with a vast admiration of Vanity Fair.
It would fill a
volume, in an age of pamphlets,
were I to
record all my observations in this great capital of human business and
pleasure. There was an unlimited range of society--the powerful, the
wise, the witty, and the famous in every walk of life--princes,
presidents, poets, generals, artists, actors, and philanthropists, all
making their own market at the Fair, and deeming no price too
exorbitant for such commodities as hit their fancy. It was well worth
one's while, even if he had no idea of buying or selling, to loiter
through the bazaars, and observe the various sorts of traffic that were
going forward.
Some of the
purchasers, I thought, made very
foolish
bargains. For instance, a young man having inherited a splendid
fortune, laid out a considerable portion of it in the purchase of
diseases, and finally spent all the rest for a heavy lot of repentance
and a suit of rags. A very pretty girl bartered a heart as clear as
crystal, and which seemed her most valuable possession, for another
jewel of the same kind, but so worn and defaced as to be utterly
worthless. In one shop, there were a great many crowns of laurel and
myrtle, which soldiers, authors, statesmen, and various other people,
pressed eagerly to buy; some purchased these paltry wreaths with their
lives; others by a toilsome servitude of years; and many sacrificed
whatever was most valuable, yet finally slunk away without the crown.
There was a sort of stock or scrip, called Conscience, which seemed to
be in great demand, and would purchase almost anything. Indeed, few
rich commodities were to be obtained without paying a heavy sum in this
particular stock, and a man's business was seldom very lucrative,
unless he knew precisely when and how to throw his hoard of Conscience
into the market. Yet as this stock was the only thing of permanent
value, whoever parted with it was sure to find himself a loser, in the
long run. Several of the speculations were of a questionable character.
Occasionally, a member of Congress recruited his pocket by the sale of
his constituents; and I was assured that public officers have often
sold their country at very moderate prices. Thousands sold their
happiness for a whim. Gilded chains were in great demand, and purchased
with almost any sacrifice. In truth, those who desired, according to
the old adage, to sell anything valuable for a song, might find
customers all over the Fair; and there were innumerable messes of
pottage, piping hot, for such as chose to buy them with their
birth-rights. A few articles, however, could not be found genuine at
Vanity Fair. If a customer wished to renew his stock of youth, the
dealers offered him a set of false teeth and an auburn wig; if he
demanded peace of mind, they recommended opium or a brandy-bottle.
Tracts of land
and golden mansions, situate in
the Celestial
City, were often exchanged, at very disadvantageous rates, for a few
years lease of small, dismal, inconvenient tenements in Vanity Fair.
Prince Beelzebub himself took great interest in this sort of traffic,
and sometimes condescended to meddle with smaller matters. I once had
the pleasure to see him bargaining with a miser for his soul, which,
after much ingenious skirmishing on both sides, his Highness succeeded
in obtaining at about the value of sixpence. The Prince remarked, with
a smile, that he was a loser by the transaction.
Day after day,
as I walked the streets of
Vanity, my manners
and deportment became more and more like those of the inhabitants. The
place began to seem like home; the idea of pursuing my travels to the
Celestial City was almost obliterated from my mind. I was reminded of
it, however, by the sight of the same pair of simple pilgrims at whom
we had laughed so heartily, when Apollyon puffed smoke and steam into
their faces, at the commencement of our journey. There they stood amid
the densest bustle of Vanity--the dealers offering them their purple,
and fine linen, and jewels; the men of wit and humor gibing at them; a
pair of buxom ladies ogling them askance; while the benevolent Mr.
Smooth-it-away whispered some of his wisdom at their elbows, and
pointed to a newly-erected temple--but there were these worthy
simpletons, making the scene look wild and monstrous, merely by their
sturdy repudiation of all part in its business or pleasures.
One of
them--his name was
Stick-to-the-right--perceived in
my face, I suppose, a species of sympathy and almost admiration, which,
to my own great surprise, I could not help feeling for this pragmatic
couple. It prompted him to address me.
"Sir," inquired
he, with a sad, yet mild and
kindly voice,
"do you call yourself a pilgrim?"
"Yes," I
replied, "my right to that appellation
is
indubitable. I am merely a sojourner here in Vanity Fair, being bound
to the Celestial City by the new rail-road."
"Alas, friend,"
rejoined Mr. Stick-to-the-right,
"I do
assure you, and beseech you to receive the truth of my words, that that
whole concern is a bubble. You may travel on it all your lifetime, were
you to live thousands of years, and yet never get beyond the limits of
Vanity Fair! Yea; though you should deem yourself entering the gates of
the Blessed City, it will be nothing but a miserable delusion."
"The Lord of
the Celestial City," began the
other pilgrim,
whose name was Mr. Foot-it-to-Heaven, "has refused, and will ever
refuse, to grant an act of incorporation for this rail-road; and unless
that be obtained, no passenger can ever hope to enter his dominions.
Wherefore, every man, who buys a ticket, must lay his account with
losing the purchase-money--which is the value of his own soul."
"Poh,
nonsense!" said Mr. Smooth-it-away, taking
my arm and
leading me off, "these fellows ought to be indicted for a libel. If the
law stood as it once did in Vanity Fair, we should see them grinning
through the iron bars of the prison-window."
This incident
made a considerable impression on
my mind, and
contributed with other circumstances to indispose me to a permanent
residence in the city of Vanity; although, of course, I was not simple
enough to give up my original plan of gliding along easily and
commodiously by rail-road. Still, I grew anxious to be gone. There was
one strange thing that troubled me; amid the occupations or amusements
of the Fair, nothing was more common than for a person--whether at a
feast, theater, or church, or trafficking for wealth and honors, or
whatever he might be doing, and however unseasonable the
interruption--suddenly to vanish like a soap-bubble, and be never more
seen of his fellows; and so accustomed were the latter to such little
accidents, that they went on with their business, as quietly as if
nothing had happened. But it was otherwise with me.
Finally, after
a pretty long residence at the
Fair, I
resumed my journey towards the Celestial City, still with Mr.
Smooth-it-away at my side. At a short distance beyond the suburbs of
Vanity, we passed the ancient silver mine, of which Demas was the first
discoverer, and which is now wrought to great advantage, supplying
nearly all the coined currency of the world. A little further onward
was the spot where Lot's wife had stood for ages, under the semblance
of a pillar of salt. Curious travelers have long since carried it away
piecemeal. Had all regrets been punished as rigorously as this poor
dame's were, my yearning for the relinquished delights of Vanity Fair
might have produced a similar change in my own corporeal substance, and
left me a warning to future pilgrims.
The next
remarkable object was a large edifice,
constructed
of moss-grown stone, but in a modern and airy style of architecture.
The engine came to a pause in its vicinity with the usual tremendous
shriek.
"This was
formerly the castle of the redoubted
giant
Despair," observed Mr. Smooth-it-away; "but, since his death, Mr.
Flimsy-faith has repaired it, and now keeps an excellent house of
entertainment here. It is one of our stopping-places."
"It seems but
slightly put together," remarked
I, looking at
the frail, yet ponderous walls. "I do not envy Mr. Flimsy-faith his
habitation. Some day it will thunder down upon the heads of the
occupants."
"We shall
escape, at all events," said Mr.
Smooth-it-away,
"for Apollyon is putting on the steam again."
The road now
plunged into a gorge of the
Delectable
Mountains, and traversed the field where, in former ages, the blind men
wandered and stumbled among the tombs. One of these ancient tomb-stones
had been thrust across the track, by some malicious person, and gave
the train of cars a terrible jolt. Far up the rugged side of a
mountain, I perceived a rusty iron door, half overgrown with bushes and
creeping plants, but with smoke issuing from its crevices.
"Is that,"
inquired I, "the very door in the
hill-side,
which the shepherds assured Christian was a by-way to Hell?"
"That was a
joke on the part of the shepherds,"
said Mr.
Smooth-it-away, with a smile. "It is neither more nor less than the
door of a cavern, which they use as a smoke-house for the preparation
of mutton-hams."
My
recollections of the journey are now, for a
little space,
dim and confused, inasmuch as a singular drowsiness here overcame me,
owing to the fact that we were passing over the Enchanted Ground, the
air of which encourages a disposition to sleep. I awoke, however, as
soon as we crossed the borders of the pleasant land of Beulah. All the
passengers were rubbing their eyes, comparing watches, and
congratulating one another on the prospect of arriving so seasonably at
the journey's end. The sweet breezes of this happy clime came
refreshingly to our nostrils; we beheld the glimmering gush of silver
fountains, overhung by trees of beautiful foliage and delicious fruit,
which were propagated by grafts from the Celestial gardens. Once, as we
dashed onward like a hurricane, there was a flutter of wings, and the
bright appearance of an angel in the air, speeding forth on some
heavenly mission. The engine now announced the close vicinity of the
final Station House, by one last and horrible scream, in which there
seemed to be distinguishable every kind of wailing and woe, and bitter
fierceness of wrath, all mixed up with the wild laughter of a devil or
a madman. Throughout our journey, at every stopping-place, Apollyon had
exercised his ingenuity in screwing the most abominable sounds out of
the whistle of the steam-engine; but in this closing effort he outdid
himself, and created an infernal uproar, which, besides disturbing the
peaceful inhabitants of Beulah, must have sent its discord even through
the Celestial gates.
While the
horrid clamor was still ringing in our
ears, we
heard an exulting strain, as if a thousand instruments of music, with
height, and depth, and sweetness in their tones, at once tender and
triumphant, were struck in unison, to greet the approach of some
illustrious hero, who had fought the good fight and won a glorious
victory, and was come to lay aside his battered arms for ever. Looking
to ascertain what might be the occasion of this glad harmony, I
perceived, on alighting from the cars, that a multitude of Shining Ones
had assembled on the other side of the river, to welcome two poor
pilgrims, who were just emerging from its depths. They were the same
whom Apollyon and ourselves had persecuted with taunts and gibes, and
scalding steam, at the commencement of our journey--the same whose
unworldly aspect and impressive words had stirred my conscience, amid
the wild revelers of Vanity Fair.
"How amazingly
well those men have got on!"
cried I to Mr.
Smooth-it-away. "I wish we were secure of as good a reception."
"Never
fear--never fear!" answered my friend.
"Come!--make
haste!--the ferry-boat will be off directly; and in three minutes you
will be on the other side of the river. No doubt you will find coaches
to carry you up to the city-gates."
A steam
ferry-boat, the last improvement on this
important
route, lay at the river-side, puffing, snorting, and emitting all those
other disagreeable utterances, which betoken the departure to be
immediate. I hurried on board with the rest of the passengers, most of
whom were in great perturbation; some bawling out for their baggage;
some tearing their hair and exclaiming that the boat would explode or
sink; some already pale with the heaving of the stream; some gazing
affrighted at the ugly aspect of the steersman; and some still dizzy
with the slumberous influences of the Enchanted Ground. Looking back to
the shore, I was amazed to discern Mr. Smooth-it-away waving his hand
in token of farewell!
"Don't you go
over to the Celestial City?"
exclaimed I.
"Oh, no!"
answered he with a queer smile, and
that same
disagreeable contortion of visage which I had remarked in the
inhabitants of the Dark Valley. "Oh, no! I have come thus far only for
the sake of your pleasant company. Good bye! We shall meet again."
And then did my
excellent friend, Mr.
Smooth-it-away, laugh
outright; in the midst of which cachinnation, a smoke-wreath issued
from his mouth and nostrils, while a twinkle of lurid flame darted out
of either eye, proving indubitably that his heart was all of a red
blaze. The impudent Fiend! To deny the existence of Tophet, when he
felt its fiery tortures raging within his breast! I rushed to the side
of the boat, intending to fling myself on shore. But the wheels, as
they began their revolutions, threw a dash of spray over me, so
cold--so deadly cold, with the chill that will never leave those
waters, until Death be drowned in his own river--that, with a shiver
and a heart-quake, I awoke. Thank Heaven, it was a Dream!
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