78 Sermon Illustrations on Persecution

The Albigensian war, in the beginning of the thirteenth century, commenced with the storming of Bezières, and a massacre in which fifteen thousand persons, or according to some accounts, sixty thousand, were put to the sword. Not a living soul escaped, as witnesses assure us. It was here that a Cistercian Monk, who led on the Crusaders, being asked if the Catholics were to be distinguished from heretics, answered, "Kill them all! God will know his own."

In December, 1830, (says a traveler,) I went to Cuba, with an intention of remaining at Havanna some months in the transaction of business. On one of the Popish festival days, about the new-year, I was walking alone, when I met two shaven-crowned Jesuits in their long cloaks—one bearing an image of the Virgin Mary, and the other carrying in his hand a crucifix. They immediately assailed me, and insisted that I should fall down on my knees to honor the image. I resisted their demand to comply with this baneful abomination. In consequence of my refusal, one of the priests struck me several times with the crucifix. When I attempted to ward off the blows, the other Jesuit came to his assistance; upon which I laid hold of the image, and the idol was almost pulled to pieces in the scuffle. In a very short time, a number of Spaniards with their knives and dirks came around me, and after threatening to take my life upon the spot, dragged me to prison. Then the monks, who judged the cause, condemned me to be kept on board a Spanish man-of-war for life; but the consul, to whom I applied for protection, preserved me, so that my punishment was changed to pay thirty-four dollars fine, and to be reshipped back to America.

# 299. Hostility to the Bible.

Admiral Pye of England, having been on a visit to Southampton, and the gentleman under whose roof he resided observing an unusual intimacy between him and his secretary, inquired into the degree of their relationship, as he wished to pay him suitable attention. The admiral informed him that they were not related, but their intimacy arose from a singular circumstance, which, by his permission, he would relate. The admiral said, when he was a captain, he was cruising in the Mediterranean. While on that station he received a letter from shore, stating that the unhappy author of the letter was by birth an Englishman; that, having been a voyage to Spain, he was enticed, while there, to become a Papist, and, in process of time, was made a member of the Inquisition; that there he beheld the abominable wickedness and barbarities of the inquisitors. His heart recoiled at having embraced a religion so horribly cruel and so repugnant to the nature of God; that he was stung with remorse to think that, if his parents knew what and where he was, their hearts would break with grief; that he was resolved to escape if he (the captain) would send a boat on shore at such a time and place; but begged secrecy, since, if his intentions were discovered, he should be immediately assassinated. The captain returned for answer that he could not with propriety send a boat, but if he could devise any means to come on board, he would receive him as a British subject and protect him. He did so; but, being missed, there was soon raised a hue and cry, and he was followed to the ship.

A holy inquisitor demanded him, but he was refused. Another, in the name of his holiness the pope, claimed him, but the captain did not know him or any other master but his own sovereign, King George. At length a third holy brother approached. The young man recognised him at a distance, and, in terror, ran to the captain, entreating him not to be deceived by him, for he was the most false, wicked, and cruel monster in all the Inquisition. He was introduced, the young man being present; and, to obtain his object, began with the bitterest accusations against him; then he turned to the most full-some flatteries of the captain; and, lastly, offered him a sum of money to resign him. The captain treated him with apparent attention; said his offer was very handsome, and, if what he affirmed were true, the person in question was unworthy of the English name or of his protection. The holy brother was elated; he thought his errand was accomplished. While drawing his purse-strings, the captain inquired what punishment would be inflicted upon him. He replied that it was uncertain; but as his offences were atrocious, it was likely that his punishment would be exemplary. The captain asked if he thought he would be burned in a dry pan. He replied, that must be determined by the holy Inquisition, but it was not improbable.

The captain then ordered the great copper to be heated, but no water to be put in. All this while the young man stood trembling; his cheeks resembling death; he expected to become an unhappy victim to avarice and superstition. The cook soon announced that the orders were executed. "Then I command you to take this fellow," pointing to the inquisitor, "and fry him alive in the copper." This unexpected command thunderstruck the holy father. Alarmed for himself, he rose to be gone. The cook began to bundle him away. "Oh, good captain! good captain! spare, spare me, spare me!" "Have him away!" replied the captain. "Oh no, my good captain!" "Have him away! I'll reach him to attempt to bribe a British commander to sacrifice the life of an Englishman to gratify a herd of bloody men." Down the inquisitor fell upon his knees, offering him all his money, and promising never to return if he would let him begone. When the captain had sufficiently alarmed him, he dismissed him, warning him never to come again on such an errand. What must have been the reverse of feelings in the young man to find himself thus happily delivered! He fell upon his knees in a flood of tears before the captain, and poured out a thousand blessings upon his brave and noble deliverer. "This," said the admiral to the gentleman, "is the circumstance that began our acquaintance. I took him to be my servant; he served me from affection; mutual attachment ensued; and it has inviolably subsisted and increased to this day."

# 301. Praying to and for the Dead.

Dioclesian, the last and the worst of the Roman persecuting emperors, observed, that the more he sought to blot out the name of Christ, the more legible it became; and that whatever of Christ he thought to eradicate, it took the deeper root, and rose the higher in the hearts and lives of men.

Persecutors, and others who have unjustly shed the blood of their fellow-creatures, have often, in the righteous providence of God, met with a violent death, or been visited by signal judgments. Nero was driven from his throne, and perceiving his life in danger, became his own executioner; Domitian was killed by his own servants; Hadrian died of a distressing disease, which was accompanied with great mental agony; Severus never prospered in his affairs after he persecuted the church, and was killed by the treachery of his son; Maximinus reigned but three years, and died a violent death; Decius was drowned in a marsh, and his body never found; Valerian was taken prisoner by the Persians, and, after enduring the horrors of captivity for several years, was flayed alive; Dioclesian was compelled to resign his empire, and became insane; Maximianus Herculeus was deprived of his government, and strangled; Maximianus Galerius was suddenly and awfully removed by death; and Severus committed suicide.

Felix, earl of Wurtemburg, one of the captains of the Emperor Charles V, being at supper at Augsburg, in company with many who were threatening the sorest punishments on the persons of the pious Christians of that day, swore, before them all, that before he died he would ride up to his spurs in the blood of the Lutherans. That same night he was choked, probably by the bursting of a blood-vessel, which filled his throat, and at once removed him from the world.

MONITION.—In 1692, some soldiers came to break up a meeting where Mr. Browning, who had been ejected from Desborough, in Northamptonshire, was, and to apprehend him. The constable of the place, who was present, admonished them to be well advised in what they did, "For," said he, "when Sir — was alive, he eagerly persecuted these meetings, and engaged eight soldiers of the country troop to assist him, whereof myself was one. Sir — himself is dead; six of the soldiers are dead; some of them were hanged, and some of them broke their necks, and I myself fell off my horse and broke my collar-bone, in the act of persecuting them. This has given me such a warning, that, for my part, I am resolved I will never meddle with them more."

The Rev. Eugenio Kincaid states, that among the first converts in Ava, were two men who had held respectable offices about the palace. Some time after they had been baptized, a neighbor determined to report them to government, and drew up a paper setting forth that these two men had forsaken the customs and religion of their fathers, were worshiping the foreigner's God, and went every Sunday to the teacher's house, &c. He presented the paper to the neighbors of the two disciples, taking their names as witnesses, and saying that he should go and present the accusation on the next day. The two Christians heard of it, and went to K. in great alarm, to consult as to what they should do. They said if they were accused to government, the mildest sentence they could expect would be imprisonment for life at hard labor, and perhaps they would be killed. K. told them that they could not flee from Ava, if they would; that he saw nothing he could do for them, and all that they could do was to trust in God. He then knelt with them, and besought God to protect them, and deliver them from the power of their enemies. They also prayed, and soon left K., saying that they felt more calm, and could leave the matter with God. That night the persecutor was attacked by a dreadful disease in the bowels, which so distressed him, that he roared like a madman; and his friends, as is too often the case with the heathen, left him to suffer and die alone. The two Christians whom he would have ruined, then went and took care of him till he died, two or three days after his attack. The whole affair was well known in the neighborhood, and from that time not a dog dare move his tongue against the Christians of Ava. Is there no evidence in this of a special providence, and that God listens to the prayers of his persecuted and distressed children?

The respectability of Bunyan's character and the propriety of his conduct, while in prison at Bedford, appear to have operated very powerfully on the mind of the jailer, who showed him much kindness, in permitting him to go out and visit his friends occasionally, and once to take a journey to London.

The following anecdote is told respecting the jailer and Mr. Bunyan:—It being known to some of his persecutors, in London, that he was often out of prison, they sent an officer to talk with the jailer on the subject; and, in order to discover the fact, he was to get there in the middle of the night. Bunyan was at home with his family, but so restless that he could not sleep; he therefore acquainted his wife that, though the jailer had given him liberty to stay till the morning, yet, from his uneasiness, he must immediately return. He did so, and the jailer blamed him for coming in at such an unseasonable hour. Early in the morning the messenger came, and interrogating the jailer, said, "Are all the prisoners safe?" "Yes." "Is John Bunyan safe?" "Yes." "Let me see him." He was called, and appeared, and all was well. After the messenger was gone, the jailer, addressing Mr. Bunyan, said, "Well, you may go in and out again just when you think proper, for you know when to return better than I can tell you.

When this distinguished minister was once at Plymouth, four gentlemen came to the house of one of his particular friends, kindly inquiring after him, and desiring to know where he lodged. Soon afterwards, Mr. Whitefield received a letter, informing him that the writer was a nephew of Mr. S—, an attorney at New-York; that he had the pleasure of sapping with Mr. Whitefield at his uncle's house, and desired his company to sup with him and a few friends at a tavern. Mr. Whitefield sent him word, that it was not customary for him to sup' abroad at taverns; but he should be glad of the gentleman's company to eat a morsel with him at his lodging: he accordingly came and supped, but was observed frequently to look around him, and to be very absent in mind. At last he took his leave, and returned to his companions in the tavern; and on being asked by them what he had done, he answered, that he had been used so civilly, that he had not the heart to touch him. Upon which another of the company, a lieutenant of a man-of-war, laid a wager of ten guineas that he would do his business for him. His companions, however, had the precaution to take away his sword. It was now about midnight, and Mr. Whitefield, having that day preached to a large congregation, and visited the French prisons, had gone to bed, when the landlady came and told him that a well-dressed gentleman desired to speak with him. Mr. Whitefield imagining it was somebody under conviction, desired him to be brought up. He came, and sat down by the bed-side, congratulated him upon the success of his ministry, and expressed much concern at being detained from hearing him. Soon after, he broke out into the most abusive language, and in a cruel and cowardly manner beat him in his bed. The landlady and her daughter, hearing the noise, rushed into the room and laid hold of him; but he soon disengaged himself from them and repeated his blows upon Mr. Whitefield, who being apprehensive that he intended to shoot or stab him, underwent all the surprise of a sudden and violent death. Afterwards a second came into the house, and cried out, from the bottom of the stairs, "Take courage, I am ready to help you!" But, by the repeated cry of "murder!" the alarm was now so great, that they both made off. "The next morning," says Mr. Whitefield, "I was to expound at a private house, and then to set out for Bideford. Some urged me to stay and prosecute; but, being better employed, I went on my intended journey, was greatly blessed in preaching the everlasting gospel, and, upon my return, was well paid for what I had suffered, curiosity having led perhaps two thousand more than ordinary to see and hear a man that had like to have been murdered in his bed. And I trust, in the five weeks that I waited for the convoy, hundreds were awakened and turned unto the Lord."

A pious woman in the days of persecution, used to say, she should never want, because her God would supply her every need. She was taken before an unjust judge for attending the worship of God. The judge, on seeing her, tauntingly said, "I have often wished to have you in my power, and now I shall send you to prison, and then how will you be fed?" She replied, "If it be my heavenly Father's pleasure, I shall be fed from your table." And that was literally the case; for the judge's wife being present at her examination, was greatly surprised with the good woman's firmness, and took care to send her victuals from her table, so that she was comfortably supplied all the time she was in confinement; and the other found her reward, for the Lord was pleased to convert her soul, and give her the blessings of his salvation.

A pious man came into western New-York, from one of the New England States. He was then perfectly blind. He had a near relative in this country, who advised him to leave or sell his farm, and come and reside with him, to be taken care of. He then had a wife of a similar religious character, (since dead.) They accepted the proposal of their relative and came; and, coming from society highly refined and moral, they were not prepared to encounter the disadvantages, and real evils, which attended a society the reverse of this. Their first Sabbath in "York state," he declared, would never be forgotten. No sooner was its sacred dawn ushered in, than shooting and other recreations commenced in the immediate vicinity of his relative, while the latter, being a merchant, dealt out the whisky to all who applied. Consequently the day was trampled on, and its hallowed hours spent in dissipation. Before breakfast, which was delayed to receive a party of visitors from another town, this devoted pair resolved to seek some retreat from the noise and profaneness, fled into an adjacent wood, the wife taking the Bible and leading her blind husband. Here, in the deep solitude of the forest, they spent the first Sabbath in fasting and prayer, and reading the Word of God. After the Sabbath was past, they informed their relahis pay. After some time Mr. P. forgot to send the money; and recollecting it, called upon the man and said, "I am in your debt." "No, sir," he replied, "you are not." "How so," said Mr. P., "I have not paid you of late." "True," answered the man, "but I can now trust God; for I have found that he can bless the work of six days for the support of my family, just the same as seven." Ever after that he strictly kept the Sabbath, and found that in keeping God's commands, there is not only no loss, but great reward.

## BARKERS REPROVED.

tive, they could not live with him if such were the manner of spending the Sabbath, in amusements and dissipation. They must have a house of their own. He replied, that it would avail nothing, for people would visit him on the Sabbath. Mr. D.— said firmly, that he would risk their visits to him. Accordingly a house was provided. The first Sabbath in their new residence, two of their neighbors called to see them, one of whom was a magistrate. His wife was reading the Bible. After passing the usual compliments, and providing seats, she went on reading aloud. Before the chapter was finished, one of the visitors left, and before the close of the second, the other left. But he was not troubled with visitors. He commenced visiting some of his ungodly neighbors, and conversing with them on the subject of religion, his wife leading him. Soon they began to hold meetings on the Sabbath, and many attended. The wife read sermons, and the husband prayed and exhorted. One wicked man, whose shop was opposite the meeting, set open his door, and worked in order to disturb it. The next Sabbath, this same man came into the meeting, fell on his knees, confessing his sins and asking forgiveness. The Lord came down by his Spirit on that wicked neighborhood, and forty became the members of a church, afterwards formed in that place, as the fruits of that re vival. There was no regular preaching in the place previously, and it was evidently through the instrumentality of this blind man and his wife. That church, the writer is acquainted with. It is quite flourishing. They have built a handsome house of worship, and settled a minister to break unto them the bread of life.

A Hindoo met a missionary in India one day, and had ten minutes' conversation with him. It was a rule with the missionary, not to leave any one without giving him a copy of the Scriptures, or a tract. He gave the man some tracts and a copy of the New Testament, and heard no more of him. He almost forgot him. But the man did not forget the missionary. He read the books, and as he read them, he began to feel that he was a sinner, and needed some better Savior than a dumb idol. Gradually he left off worshiping idols, and no longer paid any thing towards the support of the temple. Soon, he said, "I want to go and see the missionary again." He had several grown up children, and they exclaimed, "No, you shall not go; for you will only receive more tracts, and you will disgrace us among our people." At the same time they brought fetters, and bound him hand and foot, so that the poor man could not stir. No Christian was near to encourage him or to instruct him; but Christ was near, and he prayed for the man, that his faith might not fail. It did not fail. He still resolved that as soon as his fetters were unloosed, he would find his way to the Christian teacher. For thirteen years he was kept in chains! But the Hindoo man had read his New Testament too well to forget it; and had learned too much of his Savior's love to give it up.

How do you think he gained his release at last? A wedding was about to take place in the family, and his children were anxious that he should go to it; so they unchained him. He took good care to put the tracts and the Testament in his cloth under his arm, without the knowledge of his friends. He went to the place where the marriage ceremony was to be performed, and when they were all busy and excited in the festival, he gave them the slip, and made the best of his way to the missionary's house, which was twenty-five miles off. When he arrived there, the missionary did not remember him. He looked at him from head to foot, but could not recall him. No wonder! it was fourteen years since he had seen him, and then only for ten minutes. The man said to him, "I wish to be a Christian." He replied, "What do you know about Christianity?" He said, "Ask me some questions, and I will tell you what I know." The missionary asked him some questions, and he answered them all very correctly. Of course, the missionary was very much surprised, and he inquired of the man, how he had gained his knowledge of Jesus. He replied, "Did you not, when you passed by my village, fourteen years ago, give me some tracts? They taught me that Christ is the only Savior and I was unhappy as long as I was a heathen. I have for some time left off idol worship; and I should have come to you before now to tell you that I believed in Jesus, but I have been chained to my house." He then showed the wounds which the fetters had made on his hands and his feet. The missionary was glad, and after some further conversation with him, in the course of a few weeks, baptized him in the name of the Lord Jesus.

# 417. Conversion of Infidels.

The tragical scenes which came under Mr. Fisk's observation while in Greece, had become so common, that they began to be regarded with indifference by many classes of people. Parties of pleasure and vain amusements were revived and engaged in, as though all were peace. Thousands had fled for their lives, and the streets of Smyrna were crimsoned with Grecian blood. It was estimated that 2000 had been massacred, and heavy exactions of money were demanded of others for the privilege of living. The bodies of the slain were frequently seen floating in the bay. In a word, exactions, imprisonment, or death, met the defenceless Greeks in every direction;—and yet, strange to tell, multitudes, only because they were better protected from Turkish violence, went thoughtlessly to the assembly-room and the dance, as though all were peace and security. While the countenance of many gathered blackness through fear, that of others exhibited only the expression of a thoughtless, ill-timed levity.