The Celestial Railroad by Nathaniel
Hawthorne 1804-1864 Introduction This short 17-page updated booklet
is a spin-off from Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. It is an allegory depicting
the radical distinction between the broadness of contemporary
Christianity and the narrowness of biblical Christianity. The
vast majority of professing Christians have abandoned the Bible's demanding
lifestyle of the narrow way, which alone leads to eternal
life. A socially fashionable brand
of easy religion now masquerades as biblical Christianity. Hawthorne's
dream carries him off to Bunyan's City of Destruction, where to
his surprise, he's told that a railroad has recently been
built from the City of Destruction to the Celestial City. Sadly,
this railroad never arrives at its promised destination. Matthew
7, 13 and 14. Enter through the narrow gate,
for wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction,
and many enter through it. But small is the gate, and narrow
is the road that leads to life, and only a few find it. The City of Destruction A short
time ago, passing through the world 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 railroad
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 my curiosity by making a trip
thither. Accordingly, one fine morning,
after paying my bill at the hotel and directing the porter to stow
my luggage, I took my seat in the vehicle and set out for the
railroad station. 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 Railroad Corporation, and one of its largest stockholders,
he had it in his power to give me all desirable information
respecting this praiseworthy enterprise. the Slough of Despond. 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. Smoothed-Away,
is the famous Slough of Despond, a disgrace to all the neighbourhood,
and the greater disgrace because it might so easily be converted
into firm ground. I have understood," said I, "'that
efforts have been made to repair it from time immemorial.' "'Very
probable, and what effect could be anticipated from such unsubstantial
stuff?' cried Mr. Smoothed-away. "'You observe
this convenient bridge. We obtained sufficient foundation
for it by throwing into the slough some editions of books of morality,
volumes of French philosophy and German rationalism, essays
of modern clergymen, extracts from Plato, Confucius, and various
Hindu 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 materials." 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 would be reluctant to cross
it in a crowded coach, especially if each passenger were encumbered
with as heavy luggage as myself. the Wicket Gate and Evangelist. Nevertheless, we got over without
accident, and soon found ourselves at the little Wicket Gate, which
formerly, as old pilgrims will recollect, stood directly across
the highway, and by its strict narrowness was a great obstruction
to the traveller of liberal mind and expansive stomach. A large
number of passengers were already at the railroad station, awaiting
the departure of the train. By the aspect and demeanour of
the people, it was easy to judge that the feelings of the community
had undergone a very favourable 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 burden
on his back, plodding along sorrowfully on foot while the whole city
hooted him. Here were parties of high society,
and the most respectable people in the neighborhood. Among the
gentlemen were people of deserved eminence, magistrates, politicians,
and men of wealth. In the ladies' section, too,
I rejoiced to note some of the most elevated circles of the
City of Destruction. There was much pleasant conversation
about the news of the day, topics of business, politics, or the
lighter matters of amusement, while Hart's religion was tastefully
thrown into the background. Even an infidel would have heard
little or nothing to shock his sensibility. The Burden of Sin
I must not forget to mention one great convenience of the
new method of going on pilgrimage. Our enormous burdens, 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 Wicked Gate, and that the followers of the
distinguished Prince Beelzebub were accustomed to shoot deadly
arrows at honest pilgrims while knocking at the door. This dispute,
much to the credit of Prince Beelzebub, as well as the worthy
and enlightened directors of the railroad, has been practically
arranged upon the principle of mutual compromise. Beelzebub's
subjects are now pretty numerously employed at the station-house,
some in taking care of the baggage, others in securing fuel, working
the engines, and such congenial occupations. I can conscientiously
affirm that workers more generally agreeable to the passengers are
not to be found on any railroad." Mr. Great Heart. Where's Mr. Great Heart? I inquired. Beyond
a doubt the directors have engaged that famous old champion to be
chief conductor of the railroad. "'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 Great Heart
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
harsh controversy or blows with some of the prince's subjects,
and thus have embroiled us anew. On the whole, we were not sorry
when honest Great Heart 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 engineer of
the train. You'll probably recognize him
at once." Apollyon The engine car at this moment took its station
at the head of the other cars, looking, I must confess, much
more like a sort of mechanical demon that would hurry us to
the infernal regions than a wholesome vehicle for smoothing our way
to the Celestial City. On its top, sat a person 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 horrid engine. "'Do my eyes deceive me?' cried
I. What on earth is this? A living
creature? If so, he is the brother to the
engine he rides upon. Nonsense! You are quite snippety,"
said Mr. Smoothit 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've reconciled him to the custom of going on pilgrimage,
and engaged him as chief engineer." "'Bravo! Bravo!' exclaimed I
with irrepressible enthusiasm. This shows the liberality of
the age. This proves, if anything can,
that all musty bigotries should 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
pilgrims on the old footpath, the passengers being all comfortably
seated, we now rattled away merrily, accomplishing a greater distance
in ten minutes than Christian probably trudged in a day. It
was laughable, while we glanced along, to observe two dusty foot-travellers
in the old pilgrim guise, with their staffs and their mystic
scrolls of parchment in their hands, and their intolerable
burdens on their backs. The preposterous obstinance of
these honest people in persisting to groan and stumble along the
difficult and dangerous pathway, rather than take advantage of
modern improvements, excited great mirth amongst the wiser
people inside the train. We greeted the two pilgrims with
ridicule and a roar of laughter, whereupon they gazed at us with
such woeful and puzzled looks that our merriment grew tenfold
more boisterous. Apollyon also entered heartily
into the fun, and contrived to blow the smoke and flame of the
engine, or of his own breath, into their faces, and enveloped
them in an atmosphere of scalding steam. These little practical
jokes amused us mightily. and doubtless afforded the pilgrims
the gratification of considering themselves to be martyrs. The Interpreter's House At some
distance from the railroad Mr. Smooth-It-Away pointed to a large
antique edifice, which he observed was a lodge of a long standing,
and had formerly been a noted stopping-place for pilgrims.
In Bunyan's book it is mentioned as the Interpreter's House. "'I
have long had a curiosity to visit that old mansion,' remarked
I. is not one of our stations, as
you perceive," said my companion. The keeper of the house was violently
opposed to the railroad, and well he might be, as the track
left his house of instruction on one side, and thus was pretty
certain to deprive him of all his reputable customers. But
the footpath still passes his door, and the old gentleman now
and then receives a call from some simple-minded traveller,
and entertains him with fare as old-fashioned as himself. The Cross Before our talk on
this subject came to a conclusion, we were rushing by the place
where Christian's burden 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, and Mr. Scaly-Conscience, and a group
of gentlemen from the town of Shun-Repentance to discourse
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 burdens were rich in many things seemed precious throughout
the world, and especially each of us possessed a great variety
of favourite 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 have seen such an assortment
of valuable articles tumbling into the sepulchre. the Hill
Difficulty, and the Valley of Humiliation. Thus pleasantly
conversing on the favorable circumstances of our position, as compared
with those of past pilgrims and of narrow-minded ones of 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 happen to crumble
down, it will remain as a lasting monument of the builder's skill
and enterprise. It is a great, though incidental,
advantage that the materials from the heart of hill difficulty
have been employed in filling up the valley of humiliation,
thus obviating the difficulty of descending into that disagreeable
and unwholesome trench. The Palace Beautiful and its
Ladies is a wonderful improvement indeed," said I. Yet I would
have been glad for 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 had the kindness
to be hospitable to pilgrims there. "'Young ladies!' cried
Mr. Smoothit away, as soon as he
could speak without laughing. "'And charming young ladies,
why, my dear fellow! They are old maids, every one
of them, prim, starched, dry, and heavy, and not one of them,
I will venture to say, has altered so much as the fashion of her
dress since the days of Christian's pilgrimage.' "'Ah, well,' said
I, much comforted, "'that I can well dispense with their acquaintance.'"
The Valley of the Shadow of Death. The respectable Apollyon was
now speeding 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 book, I perceive 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 in the quagmire 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 railroad
in the country. Even while we were speaking,
the train shot into the entrance of this dreaded valley. Though
I plead guilty to some needless palpitations of my heart during
our headlong rush over the highway here constructed, yet it would
be unjust to withhold the highest praise for the boldness of its
original conception and the ingenuity of those who built it. It was
gratifying, likewise, to observe how much care was taken to dispel
the everlasting gloom and awful shadows, and replace it with
cheerful sunshine. For this purpose the inflammable
gas, which exudes plentifully from the soil, is collected,
and thence channeled by means of pipes to a quadruple row of
street-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
to the eyes, and somewhat bewildering, as revealed 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 travelled
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 earth 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,
the bottomless pit, if there is any such place, would undoubtedly
have received us. Just as some dismal sights of
this kind had made my heart quake, there came a tremendous shriek,
which proved to be merely the whistle of the engine on arriving
at a stopping-place. The spot where we now pause was
the same that our friend Bunyan—a truthful man, but infected with
many absurd 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. Smoothed-Away, while we remained
in the smoky and ghastly cavern, took occasion to prove that Toffet
was not even a real place. The spot, he assured us, is no
other than the crater of a half-extinct volcano, in which the directors
had caused iron furnaces to be set up for the manufacture of
train-rails. From here also is obtained a
plentiful supply of fuel for the engines. Whoever had gazed
into the dismal obscurity of the broad cavern-mouth whence
ever and always darted huge tongues of dusky flames, 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 shriek creaks, and deep, shuddering sounds of
the blast, sometimes forming themselves into almost articulate
words, would have seized upon Mr. Smooth-It-Away's comfortable
explanation as greedily as we did. The inhabitants of the cavern,
moreover, were hideous creatures. darksome, smoke-begrimed, generally
deformed, with misshapen feet, and a glow of dusky redness in
their eyes, as if their hearts had caught fire. It struck me
as a peculiarity that the labourers at the furnace and those who
wrought fuel to the engine emitted smoke from their mouth and nostrils. Among the idlers in 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 before set forth by this same railroad
to the Celestial City. They looked dark, wild, and smoky,
with a singular resemblance indeed to the native inhabitants, like
whom also they had a peevish propensity to vile sarcasm and
sneers, the habit of which had wrought a fearful contortion
on their visitors. Having been on speaking terms
with one of them, an indolent, good-for-nothing fellow who went
by the name of Take-It-Easy, I called to him and asked him
what his business was 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 money-making, no fun going
on, no alcohol to drink, and no smoking allowed, and a drone
of church music from morning till night. I would not stay
in such a place if they offered me a free house and a fortune.
But, my good mister, take it easy," cried I. Why take up your
residence here, of all places in the world?" It's very warm here, and I meet
with plenty of old acquaintances, and the place altogether 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 off, 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 intense brightness grim faces that bore
the aspect of 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. These were phantoms
of the imagination, nothing more, mere delusions, which I ought
to be greatly ashamed of. But all through the Dark Valley
I was tormented, and pestered, and dolefully bewildered with
the same kind of waking dreams as the noxious gases of that
region intoxicate the brain. As the light of the 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. Before we'd gone a mile beyond
it, it seemed as if this whole gloomy passage was a dream. a modern cruel giant. At the
end of the valley, as John Bunyan mentions, was a cavern where
in his days dwelt two cruel giants, Pope and Pagan, who had strewn
the ground around their residence with the bones of slaughtered
pilgrims. These vile old cave-dwellers
are no longer there, but into their deserted cave another terrible
giant has thrust himself, and makes it his business to seize
upon honest travellers and fatten them for his table with plentiful
meals of smoke, mist, moonshine, and sawdust. He is a German by
birth, and is called Giant Rationalism. But as to his form, his features,
his substance, and his nature generally, it is the chief peculiarity
of this huge scoundrel that no one has ever been able to describe
him. As we rushed by the cavern's
mouth, we caught a hasty glimpse of him, looking somewhat like
an ill-proportioned figure, but considerably more like a heap
of fog and duskiness. He shouted after us, but in so
strange a phraseology that we knew not what he meant, nor whether
to be encouraged or affrighted. Vanity Fair 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 mirthful and fascinating beneath
the sun. As I proposed to make a considerable
stay here, it gratified me to learn that there is no longer
the lack of harmony between the townspeople and pilgrims, which
impelled the former to such lamentable mistaken measures as the persecution
of Christian and the fiery martyrdom of faithful. On the contrary,
as the new railroad brings with it great trade and a constant
influx of strangers, the mayor of Vanity Fair is its chief patron,
and the business owners of the city are amongst the largest
stockholders. Many passengers stop here 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 the 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 themselves would not be so foolish as to
go thither. Without subscribing to these
perhaps exaggerated praises, I can truly say that my abode
in Vanity Fair was quite nice, and my converse with the inhabitants
was productive of much amusement and pleasure. Being naturally
of a serious mind, my attention was directed to the advantages
derivable from a residence here, rather than to the improbable
pleasures of the Celestial City, which are the grand object with
too many visitors. The Christian reader, if he has
had no accounts of the City later than Bunyan's time, will be surprised
to hear that almost every street in Vanity Fair now has its church,
and that the revered clergy are nowhere held in higher respect
than at Vanity Fair. And well do they deserve such
honourable estimation, for the maxims of wisdom and virtue which
fall from their lips come from a deep mystical source, and tend
to as lofty a religious aim as those of the sagest philosophers
of old. In justification of this praise,
I need only mention the names of the Reverend Shallow-Deep,
the Reverend Stumble-at-Truth, that fine old clerical character,
the Reverend This-Today, who expects shortly to resign his
pulpit to the Reverend That-Tomorrow, together with the Reverend Confusion,
the Reverend Clog-the-Spirit, and last and greatest, the Reverend
Wind-of-Doctrine. The labors of these eminent clergymen
are aided by those of innumerable lecturers, who diffuse such a
various profundity in all subjects of human nature or celestial
science, that any man may acquire an extensive knowledge without
the trouble of even learning to read. Thus all the literature
is fully philosophized and steals into the ever-open ear of the
community. These ingenious methods constitute
a sort of machinery by which to brainwash every person's mind
without their even knowing it. There is another species of machine
for the wholesale manufacture of relative morality. This excellent result is affected
by societies for all kinds 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 will 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 were I to record all my observations in this great capital
of business, entertainment, and pleasure. There was an unlimited
range of upper 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 is 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 merchandise that were
available. 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 suit of rags. There was a sort of stock called
conscience which seemed to be in great demand, and would purchase
almost anything at the fair. Indeed, few commodities were
to be obtained without paying a heavy sum of conscience. 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 his conscience was
sure to find himself a loser in the long run. Thousands sold
their happiness for a whim. Golden chains were in great demand,
and purchased with great sacrifice. In truth, these were desired
by customers all over the fair, and there were innumerable bowls
of porridge, piping hot, for those who chose to buy them with
their birthrights. A few articles, however, could
not be found to be 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 situated in the Celestial City were often
exchanged at very disadvantageous rates for a few years' lease
of small dismal tenements in Vanity Fair. Prince Beelzebub
himself took great interest in this sort of business, and sometimes
condescended to meddle with small 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 for a few dollars. The prince remarked with a smile
that he was a loser by the transaction. simple pilgrims at the fair.
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 course 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 Fair, the dealers offering them
their fine apparel and jewels, the men of wit and humour mocking
at them, a pair of well-proportioned ladies flirting with them, while
the benevolent mister smoothed away, whispered some of his wisdom
to them, and pointed them to a newly erected temple. But these
pilgrims were simpletons, and would not purchase these pleasures
and amusements. One of these pilgrims, his name
was Stick to the Right, perceived in my face, I suppose, a kind
of sympathy and almost admiration, which, to my own great surprise,
I could not help feeling for these honest pilgrims. 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 am,' I replied,—'I am merely a sojourner here in
Vanity Fair, and am travelling to the Celestial City by this
new railroad.' '—'Alas, friend,' rejoined Mr. Stick to the right,
I do assure you, and beseech you to receive the truth of my
words, that the whole of Vanity Fair is a mere bubble. Were you
to live in it for thousands of years, yet it will always be
nothing but a miserable delusion. The Lord of the Celestial City,"
began the other pilgrim, whose name was Mr. Go-the-Old-Way,
has refused, and will always refuse, to grant an act of incorporation
for this railroad, and unless that is obtained, no passenger
can ever hope to enter his dominions. Therefore every man who is determined
to reside in Vanity Fair must reckon upon losing the purchase
money, which is the value of his soul. "'Nonsense!' said Mr. Smoothit away, taking my arm
and leading me away. These fellows ought to be arrested
for slander. If the law stood as it once did
in Manatee Fair, we would see them crying 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 take up permanent residence in Vanity Fair. Although,
of course, I was not simple enough to give up my original plan of
travelling along easily and commodiously by railroad, still I grew anxious
to be gone. There was one strange thing that
puzzled me. Amid the occupations and amusements
of the fair, nothing was more common than for a person, whether
at a feast, theatre, or church, or endeavouring for wealth and
honours, or whatever he might be doing, and however unreasonable
the interruption, suddenly to vanish, like a soap-bubble, and
be never more seen of his fellows. So accustomed were the residents
of the city to such incidents that they went on with their
business as quietly as if nothing had happened, but it was otherwise
with me." Demas and Lot's wife Finally, after a pretty long
residence at the fair, I resumed my journey towards the Celestial
City, still with Mr. Smooth-It-Away by my side. At
a short distance beyond the suburbs of Vanity Fair, we passed the
ancient silver mine which Demas first discovered, and which is
now operated 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 travellers have carried
it away piecemeal. Had all the lapsers been punished
as rigorously as this poor woman's were, my yearnings for the relinquished
delights of Vanity Fair might have produced a similar change
in my own body, and left me a warning to future pilgrims. Doubting
Castle and Giant Despair The next remarkable object was a
large edifice constructed of moss-grown stone, but in a modern
and airy style of architecture. The train came to a pause in
its vicinity, with its usual tremendous shriek. This was formerly
the castle of the formidable 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's habitation. Some
day it will thunder down upon the head of its occupants.' "'We
shall escape at all events,' said Mr. Smooth-It-Away, for
Apollyon is starting the steam-engine again.' The Delectable Mountains
and the Byway to Hell The road now plunged into the delectable
mountains, and traversed the field where in former ages the
blind men wandered and stumbled among the tombs. One of these
ancient tombstones 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 some
smoke issuing from its crevices. "'Is that,' inquired I, "'the
very door in the hillside which the shepherds assured Christian
was a by-way to Hell?' That was a joke on part of the shepherds,"
said Mr. Smooth-It-Away, with a smile.
It's neither more nor less than the door of a cavern, which they
use for a smokehouse for the preparation of tasty meats. the Enchanted Ground, and Booler
Land. My recollections of the journey
are now dim and confused, inasmuch as a singular drowsiness here
overcame me, owing to the fact that we were now passing over
the Enchanted Ground, the air of which encourages a disposition
to sleep. I awoke, however, As soon as
we crossed over the borders of the pleasant land of Boula, all
the passengers were rubbing their eyes and congratulating one another
on the prospect of arriving so seasonably at their journey's
end. The sweet breezes of this happy
climate 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 engineer now announced the
close vicinity of the final railroad 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. All through
our journey, at every stopping place, Apollyon had exercised
his ingenuity in wrenching 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 Vula, must have sent its discord
even through the celestial gates. A triumphant arrival. While the
horrid clamour was still ringing in our ears, we heard an exulting
strain. as if a thousand instruments
of music, with sweetness in their tones at once tender and triumphant,
were struck in unison to greet the approach of some illustrious
hero who had fought a good fight and won a glorious victory, and
was come to lay aside his battered weapons for ever. Looking to
ascertain what might be the occasion of this glad harmony, I perceived,
on a lighting from the train, that a multitude of shining ones
had assembled on the other side of the River of Death to welcome
two poor pilgrims who were just emerging from its depths. They
were the same pilgrims whom Napoleon and ourselves had persecuted
with taunts and mockeries and scalding steam at the commencement
of our journey, the same ones whose unworldly visage and impressive
words had stirred my conscience amid the wild revelers of Vanity
Fair. How amazingly well those men
have got on!" I cried to Mr. Smoothead away. I wish we were
assured of so good a reception. "'Never fear, never fear,' answered
my friend. "'Come, hurry. The ferry-boat
will be leaving momentarily, and in three minutes you'll be
on the other side of the river. No doubt you'll find coaches
to carry you up to the city gates.'" CONCLUSION A steam ferry-boat,
the last improvement on this important route, lay by the banks
of the river, 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 uneasiness, some
blubbering for their baggage, some tearing their hair and declaring
the boat would explode or sink, some already pale with the heaving
of the river, some gazing affrighted at the ugly visage of the helmsman,
and some still dizzy with the slumbering influences of the
enchanted ground. Looking back to the shore, I
was amazed to discern Mr. Smooth-It-Away waving his hand
in farewell. "'Don't you go over the river
to the Celestial City?' exclaimed I. "'Oh, no,' answered he, with
a curious smile, and that same disagreeable contortion of visage
which I had often seen in the inhabitants of the Dark Valley.
Oh, no, I've come thus far only for the sake of your pleasant
company. Good-bye. We shall meet again.'
And then did my excellent friend Mr. Smoothed-Away laugh satisfyingly,
in the midst of which, extreme laughing, a wreath of smoke issued
from his mouth and nostrils, while a twinkle of ghastly flames
darted out of both eyes, showing that his heart was in a red blaze. The impudent fiend to deny the
existence of Tophet when he felt its fiery torches ringing in
his bosom. I rushed to the side of the boat,
intending to fling myself on the shore, but the wheels, as
they began their revolutions, threw a wave of spray over me. So cold, so deadly cold, with
the chill that will never leave those waters until death is drowned
in his own river. With a shiver and a heart-quake
I awoke. Thank heaven it was but a dream.