The Pilgrim’s Progress 239of orders. Not only has he felt himself barred from
directly intervening in his wife’s conduct, but now
he must press the emissary into service so as to
avoid direct negotiations with the count. Moreover,
he must convey his expectations to this figure only
obliquely, using the portrait of the late duchess as
his medium. The emissary is charged with com-
municating warnings that the duke would never
deign to bargain directly with the count, let alone
his daughter. Of course, the scene of the monologue
is not spontaneous; the interaction between the duke
and the count’s agent is not unique. Rather, as the
duke makes clear, he has repeatedly presented the
image of his former wife to others, and it is sug-
gested that he has delivered a version of this care-
fully crafted speech a number of times. The pretense
to spontaneity is integral to this well-rehearsed act
and to the early modern tradition of courtly grace
or sprezzatura—the highly studied, highly labored
effect of nonchalance or effortlessness.
Indeed, this ceremony constitutes an exercise in
the tradition of feudal hospitality for the duke, a tra-
dition designed to celebrate the glory of his nobility.
In it, he exercises superiority over the subordinate
guest he hosts and mastery over the “wonders” in his
gallery, thereby enacting and reiterating his social
and cultural authority over all. Each instance of this
traditional display must conform to its prototype
and must be performed according to a set of rules
and customs, some of which the duke inherits as
a nobleman, some of which he has created. Part
of the tradition entails pretending that it has been
precipitated by another’s interest, the duke presents
the painting as though in response to a curiosity he
has sensed in the envoy, and he delivers the speech
as though in reply to a question the envoy never
actually poses. Consistent with the ceremonial ritual,
the duke imposes silent inquiry on the envoy, the
same inquiry he has elicited (or “seemed” to elicit
[l. 11]) from all of the other “strangers” (l. 7) he has
brought before his gallery: “How such a glance come
there; so, not the first / Are you to turn and ask thus”
(ll. 12–13), he disingenuously reassures the envoy,
whom the poem offers no evidence of speaking at
any point in the scene. This dynamic confirms both
the feudal traditions invoked and dramatized by the
poem as well as the speaker’s psychologically com-
plex relationship to them.
Hilary EnglertBUNYAN, JOHN The Pilgrim’s Progress
(1678)
John Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress from This World
to That Which is to Come has been a perennial best
seller. Even before Bunyan (1628–88) died, more
than 11 editions had been printed in England, and
the book’s popularity has continued. Since its first
appearance, it has been translated into more than
200 languages, and it has never gone out of print.
The only other book that has been continually
sold in such quantities is the English Bible. Yet the
affinities between the Bible and Bunyan’s allegory
are such that the influence of the former has added
much to the popularity of the latter. Its own literary
influence has also been noted. The Pilgrim’s Prog-
ress is partially the model for Harriet Beecher
Stowe’s uncLe toM’s cabin and is mentioned
in such novels as Louisa May Alcott’s LittLe
woMen and Mark Twain’s adventures oF huck-
Leberry Finn.
The book is an allegory—allegory literally mean-
ing “other reading” or “other word.” That is to say,
The Pilgrim’s Progress attempts to say at least two
things at once. There is the literal, surface-level
reading, wherein the character Christian travels to
the Celestial City, meeting strange and colorful fig-
ures along the way, and then there is a deeper, figura-
tive reading, wherein the reader should see Christian
as a figure of the human soul under the call of grace
traveling toward death and then an eternal dwelling
with God in heaven, a journey made possible by the
death of Christ on the cross. A clergyman, Bunyan
knew that other clergymen would attack him for
presenting the truths of Christianity under the veil
of fiction. He addressed their concerns in his prefa-
tory poem “The Author’s Apology for His Book,” in
which he defends his method by showing that the
Bible itself uses allegory to teach its truths. As has
been apparent by the book’s success, the vast major-
ity of Bunyan’s readers agreed with him and have
enjoyed the allegory without theological scruple.
Matthew Horn