“What a mighty trouble you put yourself to, great sovereign!” said I, “and all, it would appear, for the purpose of seeing and knowing more and more of the human race.”
“I never go but where I have some great purpose to serve,” returned he, “either in the advancement of my own power and dominion or in thwarting my enemies.”
“With all due deference to your great comprehension, my illustrious friend,” said I, “it strikes me that you can accomplish very little either the one way or the other here, in the humble and private capacity you are pleased to occupy.”
“It is your own innate modesty that prompts such a remark,” said he. “Do you think the gaining of you to my service is not an attainment worthy of being envied by the greatest potentate in Christendom? Before I had missed such a prize as the attainment of your services, I would have travelled over one half of the habitable globe.”—I bowed with great humility, but at the same time how could I but feel proud and highly flattered? He continued: “Believe me, my dear friend, for such a prize I account no effort too high. For a man who is not only dedicated to the King of Heaven in the most solemn manner, soul, body, and spirit, but also chosen of him from the beginning, justified, sanctified, and received into a communion that never shall be broken, and from which no act of his shall ever remove him—the possession of such a man, I tell you, is worth kingdoms; because, every deed that he performs, he does it with perfect safety to himself and honour to me.”—I bowed again, lifting my hat, and he went on.—“I am now going to put his courage in the cause he has espoused to a severe test—to a trial at which common nature would revolt, but he who is dedicated to be the sword of the Lord must raise himself above common humanity. You have a father and a brother according to the flesh: what do you know of them?”
“I am sorry to say I know nothing good,” said I. “They are reprobates, castaways, beings devoted to the Wicked One, and, like him, workers of every species of iniquity with greediness.”
“They must both fall!” said he, with a sigh and melancholy look. “It is decreed in the councils above that they must both fall by your hand.”
“The God of Heaven forbid it!” said I. “They are enemies to Christ and His Church, that I know and believe; but they shall live and die in their iniquity for me, and reap their guerdon when their time cometh. There my hand shall not strike.”
“The feeling is natural, and amiable,” said he. “But you must think again. Whether are the bonds of carnal nature or the bonds and vows of the Lord strongest?”
“I will not reason with you on this head, mighty potentate,” said I, “for whenever I do so it is but to be put down. I shall only, express my determination not to take vengeance out of the Lord’s hand in this instance. It availeth not. These are men that have the mark of the beast in their foreheads and right hands; they are lost beings themselves, but have no influence over others. Let them perish in their sins; for they shall not be meddled with by me.”
“How preposterously you talk, my dear friend!” said he. “These people are your greatest enemies; they would rejoice to see you annihilated. And, now that you have taken up the Lord’s cause of being avenged on His enemies, wherefore spare those that are your own as well as His? Besides, you ought to consider what great advantages would be derived to the cause of righteousness and truth were the estate and riches of that opulent house in your possession, rather than in that of such as oppose the truth and all manner of holiness.”
This was a portion of the consequence of following my illustrious adviser’s summary mode of procedure that had never entered into my calculation. I disclaimed all idea of being influenced by it; however, I cannot but say that the desire of being enabled to do so much good, by the possession of these bad men’s riches, made some impression on my heart, and I said I would consider of the matter. I did consider it, and that right seriously as well as frequently; and there was scarcely an hour in the day on which my resolves were not animated by my great friend, till at length I began to have a longing desire to kill my brother, in particular. Should any man ever read this scroll, he will wonder at this confession, and deem it savage and unnatural. So it appeared to me at first, but a constant thinking of an event changes every one of its features. I have done all for the best, and as I was prompted, by one who knew right and wrong much better than I did. I had a desire to slay him, it is true, and such a desire too as a thirsty man has to drink; but, at the same time, this longing desire was mingled with a certain terror, as if I had dreaded that the drink for which I longed was mixed with deadly poison. My mind was so much weakened, or rather softened about this time, that my faith began a little to give way, and I doubted most presumptuously of the least tangible of all Christian tenets, namely, of the infallibility of the elect. I hardly comprehended the great work I had begun, and doubted of my own infallibility, or that of any created being. But I was brought over again by the unwearied diligence of my friend to repent of my backsliding, and view
