Bat leaving this speculation, and not having inquired of Satan what he has to say on that subject, let us go back to the antediluvian world. The Devil, to be sure, gained his point upon Eve, and in her upon all her race: he drew her into sin; got her turned out of paradise, and the man with her: the next thing was to go to work with her posterity, and particularly with her two sons, Cain and Abel.
Adam having, notwithstanding his fall, repented very sincerely of his sin, received the promise of redemption and pardon, with an humble, but believing heart; charity bids us suppose that he led a very religious and sober life ever after; arid, especially in the first part of his time, that he brought up his children very soberly, and gave them all the necessary advantages of a religious education, and a good introduction into the world, that he was capable of; and that Eve likewise assisted to both in her place and degree.
Their two eldest sons, Cain and Abel, the one heir apparent to the patriarchal empire, and the other heir presumptive, I suppose also, lived very sober and religious lives; and as the principles of natural religion dictated an homage and subjection due to the Almighty Maker, as an acknowledgment of his mercies, and a recognition of their obedience; so the received usage of religion dictating, at that time, that this homage was to be paid by a sacrifice, they either of them brought a free-will offering to be dedicated to God respectively for themselves and families.
How it was, and for what reason, that God had respect to the offering of Abel, which, the learned say, was a lamb of the firstlings of the flock, and did not give any testimony of the like respect to Cain, and his offering, which was of the first fruits of the earth, the offerings being equally suited to the respective employment of the men, that is not my present business; but this we find made heart-burnings, and raised envy and jealousy in the mind of Cain; and at that door the Devil immediately entered; for he, who, from the beginning, was very diligent in his way, never slipped any opportunity, or missed any advantages, that the circumstances of mankind offered him to do mischief.
What shape or appearance the Devil took up to enter into a conversation with Cain upon the subject, that authors do not take upon them to determine; but it is generally supposed he personated some of bain’s sons or grandsons to begin the discourse, who attacked their father, or perhaps grandfather, upon this occasion, in the following manner, or to that purpose:
D. Sir, I perceive your majesty (for the first race were certainly all monarchs as great as kings, to their immediate posterity) to be greatly disturbed of late; your countenance is changed, your noble cheerfulness, the glories of your face, are strangely sunk and gone, and you are not the man you used to be. Please your majesty to communicate your griefs to us your children; you may be sure, that, if it be possible, we would procure you relief, and restore your delights, the loss of which, if thus you go on to subject yourself to too much melancholy, will be very hurtful to you, and, in the end, destroy you.
Cain. It is very kind, my dear children, to show your respect thus to your true progenitor, and to offer your assistance. I confess, as you say. my mind is oppressed and displeased; but, though it is very heavy, yet I know not which way to look for relief; for the distemper is above our reach, no cure can be found for it on earth.
D. Do not say so, sir: there can be no disease sure on earth, but may be cured on earth; if it be a mental evil, we have heard that your great ancestor, the first father of us all, who lives still on the great Western Plains towards the Sea, is the oracle to which all his children fly for direction in such cases as are out of the reach of the ordinary understanding of mankind; please you to give leave, we will take a journey to him, and, representing your case to him, we will hear his advice, and bring it to you with all speed, for the ease of your mind.
Cain. I know not whether he can reach my case or no.
D. Doubtless he may; and. if not. the labor of our journey is nothing, when placed in competition with the ease of your mind; it is but a few days’ travel lost; and you will not be the worse, if we fail of the desired success.
Cain. The offer is filial, and I accept your affectionate concern for me, with a just sense of an obliged parent; go then, and my blessing be upon you. But, alas! why do I bless? Can he bless whom God has not blessed?
D. O! sir, do not say so; has not God blessed you? are you not the second sovereign of the earth? and does he not converse with you face to face? are noj you the oracle to all your growing posterity, and, next after his Sovereign Imperial Majesty Lord Adam, patriarch of the world?
Cain. But has not God rejected me, and refused to converse any more with me, while he daily favors and countenances my younger brother, Abel, as if he resolved to set him up to rule over me?
D. No, sir, that cannot be, you cannot be disturbed at such a thing; is not the right of sovereignty yours by primogeniture? Can God himself take that away, when it is once given? Are you not Lord Adam’s eldest son? are you not the first-born glory of the creation? and does not the government descend to you by the divine right of birth and blood?
Cain. But what does all that signify to me, while God appears to favor and caress my younger brother, and to shine upon him, while a black dejection, and token of displeasure, surround me every day, and he does not appear to me as he used to do?
D. And what need your majesty be concerned at that, if it be so? if he does not appear pleased, you have the whole world to enjoy yourself in, and all your numerous and rising posterity adore and honor you; what need those remote things be any disturbance to you?
Cain. How! my children, not the favor of God be valued! yes, yes, in his favor is life; what can all the world avail without the smiles and countenance of him that made it?
D. Doubtless, sir, he that made the world, and placed you at the head of it all, to govern and direct it, has made it agreeable; and it is able to give you a full satisfaction and enjoyment, if you please to con sider it well, though you were never to converse with him all the while you live in it.
Cain. You are quite wrong there, my children, quite wrong.
D. But do you not, great sir, see all your children as well as us, rejoicing in the plenty of all things? and are they not completely happy, and yet they know little of this great God’? He seldom converses among us; we hear of him indeed by your sage advices, and we bring our offerings to you for him, as you direct; and when that’s done, we enjoy whatever our hearts desire; and so doubtless may you in an abundant manner, if you please.
Cain. But your felicity is wrong placed then, or you suppose that God is pleased and satisfied in that your offerings are brought to me; but what would you say, if you knew that God is displeased’? that he does not accept your offerings? that when I sacrificed to him in behalf of you all, he rejected my offerings, though I brought a princely gift, being of the finest of the wheat, the choicest and earliest fruits, and the sweetest of the oil, an offering suited to the Giver of them all?
D. But if you offered them, sir, how are you sure they were not accepted?
Cain. Yes, yes, I am sure; did not my brother Abel offer, at the same time, a lamb of his flock? for he, you know, delights in cattle, and covers the mountains with his herds. Over him, all the while he was sacrificing, a bright emanation shone cheering and en livening, a pledge of favor; and light ambient flames played hovering in the lower air, as if attending his sacrifice; and, when ready prepared, immediately descended, and burnt up the flesh, a sweet odoriferous savor ascending to him, who thus testified his acceptance; whereas, over my head, a black cloud, misty, and distilling vapor, hung dripping upon the humble altar I had raised, and, wetting the finest and choicest things I had prepared, spoiled and defaced them; the wood, unapt to burn by the moisture which fell, scarce received the fire I brought