But let his power be what it will there, we are sure ’tis limited here, and that in two particulars; first, he is limited as above, from assuming body or bodily shapes with substance; and secondly, from exerting seraphic Powers, and acting with that supernatural force, which, as an Angel, he was certainly vested with before the fall, and which we are not certain is yet taken from him; or at most, we do not know how much it may or may not be diminish’d by his degeneracy, and by the blow given him at his expulsion: this we are certain, that be his Power greater or less, he is restrain’d from the exercise of it in this World; and he, who was one equal to the Angel who kill’d 180000 men in one night, is not able now, without a new commission, to take away the life of one Job, nor to touch any thing he had.
But let us consider him then limited and restrained as he is, yet he remains a mighty, a terrible, an immortal Being; infinitely superior to man, as well in the dignity of his nature, as in the dreadful powers he retains still about him; it is true the brain-sick heads of our Enthusiasticks paint him blacker than he is, and, as I have said, wickedly represent him clothed with terrors that do not really belong to him; as if the power of good and evil was wholly vested in him, and that he was placed in the Throne of his Maker, to distribute both punishments and rewards; In this they are much wrong, terrifying and deluding fanciful people about him, till they turn their heads, and fright them into a belief that the Devil will let them alone, if they do such and such good things; or carry them away with him they know not whither, if they do not; as if the Devil, whose proper business is mischief, seducing and deluding mankind, and drawing them in to be rebels like himself, should threaten to seize upon them, carry them away, and in a word, fall upon them to hurt them, if they did evil, and on the contrary, be favourable and civil to them, if they did well.
Thus a poor deluded country fellow in our Town, that had liv’d a wicked, abominable, debauch’d life, was frighted with an Apparition, as he call’d it, of the Devil; He fancy’d that he spoke to him, and telling his tale to a good honest christian Gentleman his neighbour, that had a little more sense than himself; the Gentleman ask’d him if he was sure he really saw the Devil? yes, yes, Sir, says he, I saw him very plain, and so they began the following discourse.
Gent. See him! See the Devil! art thou sure of it, Thomas?
Tho. Yes, yes, I am sure enough of it, Master; to be sure ’twas the Devil.
Gent. And how do you know ’twas the Devil, Thomas? had you ever seen the Devil before?
Tho. No, no, I had never seen him before, to be sure; but, for all that, I know ’twas the Devil.
Gent. Well, if you’re sure, Thomas, there’s no contradicting you; pray what clothes had he on?
Tho. Nay, Sir, don’t jest with me, he had no clothes on, he was clothed with fire and brimstone.
Gent. Was it dark or day light when you saw him?
Tho. O! it was very dark, for it was midnight.
Gent. How could you see him then? did you see by the light of the fire you speak of?
Tho. No, no, he gave no light himself; but I saw him, for all that.
Gent. But was it within doors, or out in the street?
Tho. It was within, it was in my own Chamber, when I was just going into bed, that I saw him.
Gent. Well then, you had a candle, hadn’t you?
Tho. Yes, I had a candle, but it burnt as blue! and as dim!
Gent. Well, but if the Devil was clothed with fire and brimstone, he must give you some light, there can’t be such a fire as you speak of, but it must give a light with it.
Tho. No, no, He gave no light, but I smelt his fire and brimstone; he left a smell of it behind him, when he was gone.
Gent. Well, so you say he had fire, but gave no light, it was a devilish fire indeed; did it feel warm? was the room hot while he was in it?
Tho. No, no, but I was hot enough without it, for it put me into a great sweat with the fright.
Gent. Very well, he was all in fire, you say, but without light or heat, only, it seems, he stunk of brimstone; pray what shapes was he in, what was he like; for you say you saw him?
Tho. O! Sir, I saw two great staring saucer eyes, enough to fright any body out of their wits.
Gent. And was that all you saw?
Tho. No, I saw his cloven-foot very plain, ’twas as big as one of our bullocks that goes to plow.
Gent. So you saw none of his body, but his eyes and his feet? a fine vision indeed!
Tho. Sir, that was enough to send me going.
Gent. Going! what did you run away from him?
Tho. No, but I fled into bed at one jump, and sunk down and pull’d the bed-clothes quite over me.
Gent. And what did you do that for?
Tho. To hide my self from such a frightful creature.
Gent. Why, if it had really been the Devil, do you think the bed-clothes would have secur’d you from him?
Tho. Nay, I don’t know, but in a fright it was all I could do.
Gent. Nay, ’twas as wise as all the rest; but come, Thomas, to be a little serious, pray did he speak to you?
Tho. Yes, yes, I heard a voice, but who it was the Lord knows.
Gent. What kind of voice was it, was it like a man’s voice?
Tho. No, it was a hoarse ugly noise, like the croaking of a Frog, and it call’d me by my name twice, Thomas Dawson, Thomas Dawson.
Gent. Well, did you answer?
Tho. No, not I, I could not have spoke a word for my life; why, I was frighted to death.
Gent. Did it say any thing else?
Tho. Yes, when it saw that I did not speak, it said, Thomas Dawson, Thomas Dawson, you are a wicked wretch, you lay with Jenny S—— last night; if you don’t repent, I will take you away alive and carry you to Hell, and you shall be damned, you wretch.
Gent. And was it true, Thomas, did you lye with Jenny S—— the night before?
Tho. Indeed Master, why yes it was true, but I was very sorry afterwards.
Gent. But how should the Devil know it, Thomas?
Tho. Nay, he knows it to be sure; why, they say he knows every thing.
Gent. Well, but why should he be angry at that? he would rather did you lye with her again, and encourage you to lye with forty whores, than hinder you: This can’t be the Devil, Thomas.
Tho. Yes, yes. Sir, ’twas the Devil to be sure.
Gent. But he bid you repent too, you say?
Tho. Yes, he threatn’d me if I did not.
Gent. Why, Thomas, do you think the Devil would have you repent?
Tho. Why no, that’s true too, I don’t know what to say to that; but what could it be? ’twas the Devil to be sure, it could be nobody else?
Gent.