Rattling onward through the Valley, we were dazzled with thefiercely gleaming gas-lamps, as before. But sometimes, in the darkof intense brightness, grim faces, that bore the aspect and expressionof individual sins, or evil passions, seemed to thrust themselvesthrough the veil of light, glaring upon us, and stretching forth agreat dusky hand, as if to impede our progress. I almost thought, thatthey were my own sins that appalled me there. These were freaks ofimagination- nothing more, certainly- mere delusions, which I ought tobe heartily ashamed of- but, all through the Dark Valley, I wastormented, and pestered, and dolefully bewildered, with the samekind of waking dreams. The mephitic gases of that region intoxicatethe brain. As the light of natural day, however, began to strugglewith the glow of the lanterns, these vain imaginations lost theirvividness, and finally vanished with the first ray of sunshine thatgreeted our escape from the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Ere wehad gone a mile beyond it, I could well nigh have taken my oath,that this whole gloomy passage was a dream.
At the end of the Valley, as John Bunyan mentions, is a cavern,where, in his days, dwelt two cruel giants, Pope and Pagan, who hadstrewn the ground about their residence with the bones ofslaughtered pilgrims. These vile old troglodytes are no longerthere; but in their deserted cave another terrible giant has thrusthimself, and makes it his business to seize upon honest travellers,and fat them for his table with plentiful meals of smoke, mist,moonshine, raw potatoes, and saw-dust. He is a German by birth, and iscalled Giant Transcendentalist; but as to his form, his features,his substance, and his nature generally, it is the chief peculiarityof this huge miscreant, that neither he for himself, nor anybody forhim, has ever been able to describe them. As we rushed by the cavern'smouth, we caught a hasty glimpse of him, looking somewhat like anill-proportioned figure, but considerably more like a heap of fogand duskiness. He shouted after us but in so strange a phraseology,that we knew not what he meant, nor whether to be encouraged oraffrighted.
It was late in the day, when the train thundered into the ancientcity of Vanity, where Vanity Fair is still at the height ofprosperity, and exhibits an epitome of whatever is brilliant, gay, andfascinating, beneath the sun. As I purposed to make a considerablestay here, it gratified me to learn that there is no longer the wantof harmony between the townspeople and pilgrims, which impelled theformer to such lamentably mistaken measures as the persecution ofChristian, and the fiery martyrdom of Faithful. On the contrary, asthe new railroad brings with it great trade and a constant influx ofstrangers, the lord of Vanity Fair is its chief patron, and thecapitalists of the city are among the largest stockholders. Manypassengers stop to take their pleasure or make their profit in theFair, instead of going onward to the Celestial City. Indeed, suchare the charms of the place, that people often affirm it to be thetrue and only heaven; stoutly contending that there is no other,that those who seek further are mere dreamers, and that, if the fabledbrightness of the Celestial City lay but a bare mile beyond thegates of Vanity, they would not be fools enough to go thither. Withoutsubscribing to these, perhaps, exaggerated encomiums, I can truly say,that my abode in the city was mainly agreeable, and my intercoursewith the inhabitants productive of much amusement and instruction.
Being naturally of a serious turn, my attention was directed to thesolid advantages derivable from a residence here, rather than to theeffervescent pleasures, which are the grand object with too manyvisitants. The Christian reader, if he have no accounts of the citylater than Bunyan's time, will be surprised to hear that almostevery street has its church, and that the reverend clergy arenowhere held in higher respect than at Vanity Fair. And well do theydeserve such honorable estimation; for the maxims of wisdom and virtuewhich fall from their lips, come from as deep a spiritual source,and tend to as lofty a religious aim, as those of the sagestphilosophers of old. In justification of this high praise, I need onlymention 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; theRev. Mr. Clog-the-spirit; and, last and greatest, the Rev. Dr.
Wind-of-doctrine. The labors of these eminent divines are aided bythose of innumerable lecturers, who diffuse such a various profundity,in all subjects of human or celestial science, that any man mayacquire an omnigenous erudition, without the trouble of evenlearning to read. Thus literature is etherealized by assuming forits medium the human voice; and knowledge, depositing all itsheavier particles- except, doubtless, its gold- becomes exhaled into asound, which forthwith steals into the ever-open ear of the community.
These ingenious methods constitute a sort of machinery, by whichthought and study are done to every person's hand, without his puttinghimself to the slightest inconvenience in the matter. There is anotherspecies of machine for the wholesale manufacture of individualmorality. This excellent result is effected by societies for allmanner of virtuous purposes; with which a man has merely to connecthimself, throwing, as it were, his quota of virtue into the commonstock; and the president and directors will take care that theaggregate amount be well applied. All these, and other wonderfulimprovements in ethics, religion, and literature, being made plainto my comprehension, by the ingenious Mr. Smooth-it-away, inspiredme with a vast admiration of Vanity Fair.
