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00 - Author’s Apology for his Book - The Pilgrim's Progress - John Bunyan · Sacred Texts Archive

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  Part one, the author's apology for his book. When at the first I
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  took my pen in hand thus fought to write, I did not understand that
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  I at all should make a little book in such a mode. Nay,
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  I had undertook to make another, which, when almost done, before I
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  was aware, I this begun. And thus it was I writing of the
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  way and race of saints. In this our gospel day fell suddenly into an
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  allegory about their journey and the way to glory. In more than twenty things
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  which I set down. This done, I twenty more had in my crown,
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  and they again began to multiply, like sparks that from the coals of
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  fire do fly. Nay, then thought I, if that you breed so
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  fast, I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last should prove at
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  infinitum and eat out the book that I already am about. Well. So
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  I did, But yet I did not think to show to all the world
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  my pen and ink in such a mode. I only thought to make.
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  I knew not what, nor did I undertake thereby to please my neighbor.
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  No, not I I did it my own self to gratify. Neither did
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  I. But vacant season spend in this my scribble. Nor did I intend
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  but to divert myself in doing this from worser thoughts which make me do amiss.
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  Thus I set pen to paper with delight, and quickly had my thoughts
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  in black and white, for having now my method. By the end,
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  still as I pulled it came, and so I penned it down, until
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  it came at last to be for length and breadth, the bigness which you
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  see. Well. When I had thus put mine ends together, I showed
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  them others that I might see whether they would condemn them or them justify.
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  And some said let them live, some let them die. Some said,
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  john print it, others said not so, some said it might do good,
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  others said no. Now was I in a strait and did not see
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  which was the best thing to be done by me? At last, I
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  thought, since Y are thus divided, I print it will, And so
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  the case decided. For thought I some I see would have it done,
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  though others in that channel do not run to prove then who advised it for
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  the best? Thus I thought fit to put it to the test. I
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  further thought, if now I did deny those that would have it thus to
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  gratify I did not know, but hinder them I might of that which would
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  to them be great delight for those which were not for its coming forth,
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  I said to them, offend you, I am loathe. Yet since your
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  brethren pleased with it, be forbear to judge till you do further. See
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  if that thou wilt not read, let it alone. Some love the meat,
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  some love to pick the bone. YEA, that I might then better
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  palliate I did too with them. Thus expostulate. May I not write in
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  such a style as this, in such a method too, and yet not
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  miss my end? Thy good? Why may it not be done? Dark
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  clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none? Yea, dark or right?
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  If they their silver drops coursed to descend the earth by yielding crops,
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  gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either, but treasures up the
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  fruit they yield together. Yea, so comixanes both that in their fruit.
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  None can distinguish this from that they suit her well when hungry. But if
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  she be full, she spews out both and makes their blessing null. You
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  see the ways the fisherman doth take to catch the fish. What engines,
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  doth he make? Behold how he engageth all his wits, also his snares,
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  lines, angles, hooks, and nets. Yet fish there be that
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  neither hook nor line, nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make
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  thine. They must be groped for and be tickled too, or they will
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  not be catched. Whate'er you do? How does the fowler seek to catch
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  his game? By divers means all which one cannot name? His guns,
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  his nets, his lime, twigs, light and bell? He creeps,
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  he goes, he stands? Yea, who can tell of all his postures?
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  Yet there's none of these will make him master of what fowl? He
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  please? Yea? He must pipe and whistle to catch this? Yet if
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  he does so, that bird he will miss. If that a pearl man'
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  toad's head dwell and may be found too in an oyster shell. If things
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  that promise nothing do contain, what better is than gold? Who will disdain
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  that have an inkling of it? There to look that they may find it?
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  Now, my little book, they void of all these paintings that may
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  make it with us or the other man to take is not without those things
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  that do excel? What do in brave, but empty notions dwell well.
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  Yet I am not fully satisfied that this your book will stand when soundly tried.
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  Why what's the matter? It is dark? What though? But it
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  is feigned? What of that I chow? Some men, by feinted words
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  as dark as mine, make truth to spangle, and it's raised to shine.
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  But they want solidness, Speak man, thy mind, they drown the
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  weak metaphors make us blind. Solidity indeed becomes the pen of Him that righted
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  things divine to men. But must I needs want solidness? Because by metaphors
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  I speak were not God's laws, his gospel laws in olden time held forth
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  by types, shadows and metaphors. Yet loathe will any sober man be to
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  find fault with them, lest he be found for to assault the highest wisdom.
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  No, he rather stoops and seeks to find out what by pins and
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  loops, by calves and sheep, by heiphers, and by rams, by
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  birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs, God speaketh to him.
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  And happy is he that finds the light and grace that in them be.
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  But not too forward therefore to conclude that I want solidness, that I
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  am rude all things solid and shown not solid, be all things imperiable,
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  despise not we lest things most hurtful. Lightly we receive, and things that
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  good are of our souls. Bereave my dark and cloudy was. They do
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  but hold the truth as cabinets enclose the gold the prophets used much by metaphors
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  to set forth truth. YEA, whoso considers Christ his apostles too, shall
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  plainly see that truth. To this day in such mantles, be am I
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  afraid to say that Holy writ which for its stalin phrase puts down all wit,
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  is everywhere so full of these things, dark figures, allegories. Yet
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  there springs from that same book that luster, and those rays of light that
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  turn out darkest nights to days come. Let my carpet to his life now
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  look and find their darker lines than in my book he findeth any, yea,
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  And let him know that in his best things there are worse lines too.
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  May we but stand before impartial men to his poor one, I durst
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  adventure ten that they will take my meaning in these lines far better than his
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  lies. And silver shrines come truth. Although in swaddling clothes I find informs
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  the judgment rectifies the mind, pleases the understanding, makes the will submit the
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  memory to it doth fill with what doth our imagination please? It tends our
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  troubles to appease sound words. I know Timothy is to use an old wives
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  fables he is to refuse, but yet grave poor him. No word doth
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  forbid the use of parables in which lay hid that gold, those pearls and
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  precious stones that were worth digging for, and that with greatest care. Let
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  me add one word more, O, man of God, art thou offended?
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  Dost thou wish I had put forth my matter in another dress? Or
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  that I hadn't things been more express? Three things? Let me propound than
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  I submit to those that are my betters, as is fit. One.
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  I find not that I am denied the use of this my method. So
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  I no abuse put on the words things readers, or be rude in handling
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  finger, or similitude in application, But all that I may seek the advance
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  of truth this or that way denied? Did I say? Nay? I
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  have leave example too, and that from them that have God better pleased by
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  their words or ways than any any man that breatheth Nowadays. Thus to express
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  my mind thus to declare things unto THEE that excellentest are. Two. I
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  find that men as high as trees will write dialogue wise. Yet no man
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  doth them slight for writing. So indeed, if they abuse truth, cursed
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  be they in the craft they used to that intent. But yet let truth
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  be free to make a sallies upon THEE and me. Which way pleases God,
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  For who knows how better than he that taught us first to plow,
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  to guide our minds and pens for his designs, and he makes base things
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  usher in divine. Three, I find that Holy written many places hath semblance
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  with this method. Where the cases do call for one thing to set forth
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  another use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother Truth's golden beams.
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  Nay, by this method may make it cast forth its rays as light
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  as day. And now before I do put up my pen, I'll show
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  the profit of my book, and then commit both THEE and it into their
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  hand that pulls the strong down and makes weak ones stand. This book it
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  chalketh out before thine eyes. The man that seeks the everlasting prize. It
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  shows you whence he comes whither he goes what he leaves undone. Also what
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  he does. It also shows you how he runs and runs till he until
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  the gate of Glory comes. It shows too who set out for life and
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  main as if the lasting crown they would obtain. Here also you may see
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  the reason why they lose their labor, and like fools do die. This
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  book will make a traveler of thee, if by its counsel thou wilt rul
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  it be, it will direct thee to the Holy Land. If thou wilt
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  its directions understand, yea will make the slothful active, be the blind also
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  delightful things to see? Art thou for something rare and profitable? Or wouldst
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  thou see a truth within a fable? Art thou forgetful? What'dst thou remember
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  from New Year's Day to the last of December? Then read my fam They
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  will stick like burds, and maybe to the helpless comforters. This book is
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  writ in such a dialect as may the minds of listless men affect. It
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  seems a novelty, and yet contains nothing but sound and honest gospel strains.
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  Wouldst thou divert thyself for melancholy? Wouldst thou be pleasant yet be far from
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  folly. Wouldst thou read riddles and their explanation, or else be drowned in
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  thy contemplation. Dost thou love picking meat? Or wouldst thou see a man
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  in the clouds and hear him speak to thee? Wouldst thou be in a
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  dream and yet not sleep, Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep?
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  Wouldst thou lose thyself and catch no harm, and find thyself again without
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  a charm? Wouldst read thyself and read thou know'st not what, and yet
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  know whether thout blessed or not by reading the same lines. Oh, then
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  come hither and lay my book, thy head and heart together. End of
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  Part one The Year Author's apology for his book