How much, we ask, is allegory in the
poet's own estimation, and how much real belief? Now in Bunyan there is
nothing of this doubt. Though the author declares his narrative to be
the relation of a dream, the figment becomes absolute fact to us; and
the homely realism of Giant Despair gives him a firmer hold upon me as
an actual existence, than all the splendid characterization of Milton's
Beelzebub can gain. Even Apollyon is more real. Milton assumes the
historic air of the epic poet, Bunyan admits that he is giving an
allegory; yet of the two the humble recorder of Christian's progress
seems the more worthy of credit. Something of this effect is doubtless
due to art: the "Pilgrim's Progress" is more adequately couched in a
single and consistent strain than the "Paradise Lost." Milton, by
implying veracity and then vaporing off into allegory, challenges
dispute; but Bunyan, in humbly confessing himself a dreamer, disarms his
reader and traps him into entire assent. Certainly Bunyan was not the
greater artist: that supposition will not even bear a moment's
contemplation; but, as it happened, his weakness was his strength. He
had but one chance. His work would have been nothing without allegory,
and the simple device of the dream--which is the refuge of a man
unskilled in composition, who feels that his figures cannot quite stand
as self-sufficient entities--happens to be as valuable to him as it was
necessary; for the plea of unreality brings out, in the strong light of
surprise, a contrast between the sincere substance of the story and its
assumed insubstantiality.
Pages:
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40