on the same subject in Effectual Calling.  Outstanding philosophical and theological schools have been formed around the will, and both able and learned and earnest men have taken opposite sides on the subject of the will under the party names of Necessitarians and Libertarians.  This is not the time, nor am I the man, to discuss such abstruse subjects; but those students who wish to master this great matter of the will, so far as it can be mastered in books, are recommended to begin with Dr. William Cunningham’s works, and then to go on from them to a treatise that will reward all their talent and all their enterprise, Jonathan Edwards’s perfect masterpiece.

1.  But, to come to my Lord Willbewill, one of the gentry of the famous town of Mansoul:—­well, this Lord Willbewill was as high-born as any man in Mansoul, and was as much a freeholder as any of them were, if not more.  Besides, if I remember my tale aright, he had some privileges peculiar to himself in that famous town.  Now, together with these, he was a man of great strength, resolution, and courage; nor in his occasion could any turn him away.  But whether he was too proud of his high estate, privileges, and strength, or what (but sure it was through pride of something), he scorns now to be a slave in Mansoul, as his own proud word is, so that now, next to Diabolus himself, who but my Lord Willbewill in all that town?  Nor could anything now be done but at his beck and good pleasure throughout that town.  Indeed, it will not out of my thoughts what a desperate fellow this Willbewill was when full power was put into his hand.  All which—­how this apostate prince lost power and got it again, and lost it and got it again—­the interested and curious reader will find set forth with great fulness and clearness in many powerful pages of the Holy War.

John Bunyan was as hard put to it to get the right name for this head of the gentry of Mansoul as Paul was to get the right name for sin in the seventh of the Romans.  In that profoundest and intensest of all his profound and intense passages, the apostle has occasion to seek about for some expression, some epithet, some adjective, as we say, to apply to sin so as to help him to bring out to his Roman readers something of the malignity, deadliness, and unspeakable evil of sin as he had sin living and working in himself.  But all the resources of the Greek language, that most resourceful of languages, utterly failed Paul for his pressing purpose.  And thus it is that, as if in scorn of the feebleness and futility of that boasted tongue, he tramples its grammars and its dictionaries under his feet, and makes new and unheard-of words and combinations of words on the spot for himself and for his subject.  He heaps up a hyperbole the like of which no orator or rhetorician of Greece or Rome had ever needed or had ever imagined before.  He takes sin, and he makes a name for sin out of itself.  The only way to describe sin, he feels,