Chapter VI: Part 6

"Yes," said his wife, wagging her head, "yes, and also the house of Smetse who was carried away to hell. For that is where thou wilt go; I know it, I feel it, I foretell it. This devil's coming all accoutred for war presages evil. He will come back, no longer alone, but with a hundred thousand devils armed like himself. Ah, my poor man! They will carry lances, swords, pikes, hooked axes, and arquebuses. They will drag behind them canon which they will fire at us; and everything will be ground to pieces, thou, I, the smithy, and the workmen. Alas, everything will be levelled to the ground! And where our smithy now stands will be nothing but a sorry heap of dust. And the folk walking past along the quay will say when they see this dust: 'There lies the house of Smetse, the fool who sold his soul to the devil.' And I, after dying in this fashion, shall go to Paradise, as I dare to hope. But thee, my man, oh, woe unspeakable! they will take away with them and drag through fire, smoke, brimstone, pitch, boiling oil, to that terrible place where those are punished who, wishing to break a pact made with the devil, have no special help from God or his holy saints. Poor little man, my good comrade, dost know what there is in store for thee? Ho, a gulf as deep as the heavens are high, and studded all down its terrible sides with jutting points of rock, iron spikes, horrid spears, and a thousand dreadful pikes. And dost know what manner of gulf this is, my man? 'Tis a gulf wherein a man may keep falling always--dost understand me, always, always--gashed by the rocks, cut about by the spears, torn open by the pikes, always, always, down all the long length of eternity."

"But, wife," said Smetse, "hast ever seen this gulf whereof thou speakest?"

"Nay," said she, "but I know what manner of place it is, for I have often heard tell of it in the church of St. Bavon. And the good canon predicant would not lie."

"Ah, no," said Smetse.

XV. Of the Bloody King.

When the last night of the seventh year was come Smetse was in his smithy, looking at the enchanted sack, and asking himself with much anxiety how he could make the devil get into it.

While he was wondering, the smithy suddenly became filled with an evil stench of the most putrid, offensive and filthy kind. Innumerable lice swarmed over the threshold, ceiling, anvils, sledges, bars and bellows, Smetse and his men, who were all as if blinded, for these lice were as thick in the smithy as smoke, cloud, or fog.

And a melancholy but imperative voice spoke, saying: "Smetse, come with me; the seven years have struck."

And Smetse and his workmen, looking as well as they could in the direction whence the voice came, saw a man coming towards them with a royal crown on his head, and on his back a cloak of cloth-of-gold. But beneath the cloak the man was naked, and on his breast were four great abscesses, which formed together a single wide sore, and from this came the stench which filled the smithy, and the clouds of lice which swarmed round about. And he had on his right leg another abscess, more filthy, rank, and offensive than the rest. The man himself was white-faced, auburn-haired, red-bearded, with lips a little drawn, and mouth open somewhat. In his grey eyes were melancholy, envy, dissimulation, hypocrisy, harshness, and evil rancour.

When the older workmen saw him they cried out in a voice like thunder: "Smetse, the Bloody King is here, take care!"

"Silence," cried the smith, "peace there, silence and veneration! Let every man doff his bonnet to the greatest king that ever lived, Philip II by name, King of Castile, Leon, and Aragon, Count of Flanders, Duke of Burgundy and Brabant, Palatine of Holland and Zeeland, most illustrious of all illustrious princes, great among the great, victorious among victors. Sire," said he to the devil, "you do me unparalleled honour to come hither in person to lead me to hell, but my humble Ghentish lowness makes bold to suggest to your Royal and Palatine Highness that the appointed hour has not yet struck. Therefore if it pleases your Majesty I will pass on earth the brief time which is still left to me to live."

"I allow it," said the devil.

Meanwhile Smetse seemed unable to take his eyes off the devil, and showed himself very sorrowful and heavy, nodding his head, and saying several times:

"Alas, alas! cruel torment! evil hour!"

"What ails thee?" said the devil.

"Sire," said Smetse, "nothing ails me but the great sorrow which I have at seeing how harsh God has been towards you, leaving you to bear in hell the malady whereof you died. Ah, 'tis a most pitiful sight to see so great a king as you consumed by these lice and eaten up with these abscesses."

"I care nothing for thy pity," answered the king.

"Sire," said Smetse further, "deign to think no evil of my words. I have never been taught fine ways of speech; but notwithstanding this I make bold to sympathize with your illustrious sufferings, and this the more in that I myself have known and suffered your ill, and you can still see, Sire, the terrible marks on my skin." And Smetse, uncovering his breast, showed the marks of the wounds which he had received from the traitor Spanish when he sailed the seas with the men of Zeeland.

"But," said the devil-king, "thou seemest well enough cured, smith! Wast thou verily as sick as I?"

"Like you, Sire," said Smetse, "I was nothing but a heap of living filth; like you I was fetid, rank, and offensive, and every one fled from me as they fled from you; like you I was eaten up with lice; but what could not be done for you by the most illustrious doctor Olias of Madrid, a humble carpenter did for me."

At these words the devil-king cocked his ear. "In what place," said he, "does this carpenter dwell, and what is his name?"

"He dwells," said Smetse, "in the heavens, and his name is Master St. Joseph."

"And did this great saint appear to thee by especial miracle?"

"Yes, Sire."

"And by virtue of what didst thou merit this rare and blessed favour?"

"Sire," answered Smetse, "I have never by my own virtue merited so much as the shadow of a single grain of particular grace, but in my sufferings I prayed humbly and with faith to my blessed patron, Master St. Joseph, and he deigned to come to my succour."

"Tell me of this happening, smith."

"Sire," said Smetse, holding up the sack, "this was my remedy."

"This sack?" asked the devil.

"Yes, Sire; but will your Majesty deign to look closely at the hemp whereof it is woven. Do you not think its quality altogether strange! Alas," said Smetse, running on with his talk, and appearing to go into an ecstasy, "'tis not given to us poor men to see every day such hemp as this. For this is not earthly hemp, but hemp of heaven, hemp from the good Paradise, sown by my master St. Joseph round about the tree of life, harvested and woven under his especial orders to make sacks wherein the beans are stored which my masters the angels eat on fast-days."

"But," asked the devil, "how did this sack come into thy hands?"

"Ah, Sire, by great marvel. One night I was in my bed, suffering twenty deaths from my ulcers, and almost at the point of giving up my soul. I saw my good wife weeping; I heard my neighbours and workmen, of whom there were many, saying round about my bed the prayers for the dying; my body was overcome with pain and my soul with despair. Nevertheless I kept praying to my blessed patron and swore that if he brought me out of that pass, I would burn to his honour in the church of St. Bavon such a candle as the fat of twenty sheep would not suffice to make. And my prayers were not in vain, Sire, for suddenly a hole opened in the ceiling above my head, a living flame and a celestial perfume filled the room, a sack came down through the hole, a man clothed in white followed the sack, walked in the air to my bed, pulled down the sheets which covered me, and in the twinkling of an eye put me in the sack and drew the strings tight round my neck. And then, behold the miracle! No sooner was I wrapped about with this good hemp than a genial warmth passed through me, my ulcers dried up, and the lice all perished suddenly with a terrible noise. After that the man told me with a smile about the hemp of heaven and the angelic beans, and finished his discourse by saying: 'Keep safe this remedy, 'tis sent thee by my master St. Joseph. Whosoever shall use it shall be cured of all ills and saved for all eternity, if in the meantime he do not sell his soul to the devil!' Then the man went away. And what the good messenger told me was true, for by means of this sack from heaven, I cured Toon, my workman, of the king's evil; Pier of fever, Dolf of scurvy, Hendrik of the phlegm, and a score of others who owe it to me that they are still alive."

When Smetse had finished his speech the devil-king seemed lost in deep reflection, then suddenly lifted his eyes to heaven, joined his hands, crossed himself again and again, and, falling to his knees, beat upon his breast, and with most lamentable cries prayed as here follows: "Ah, my Master St. Joseph, sweet Lord, blessed saint, immaculate husband of the Virgin without stain, you have deigned to make whole this smith, and he would have been saved by you for all eternity had he not sold his soul to the devil. But I, Master, I, a poor king, who pray to you, do you disdain to make me whole also, and to save me as you would have saved him? You know well, sweet Lord, how I devoted my life, my person, my goods and those of my subjects to the defence of our blessed religion; how I hated, as is right, the freedom to believe other things than those which are ordained for us; how I combated it by steel, stake, and live burial; how I saved in this wise from the venom of reform Brabant, Flanders, Artois, Hainault, Valenciennes, Lille, Douai, Orchies, Namur, Tournai, Tournaisie, Malines, and my other lands. Nevertheless I have been thrown into the fires of hell, and there suffer without respite the unutterable torment of my consuming ulcers and my devouring vermin. Ah, will you not make me whole, will you not save me? You are able, my Master. Yes, you will perform again for the sorrowing king the miracle which saved the smith. Then shall I be able to pass into paradise, blessing and glorifying your name through centuries and centuries. Save me, Master St. Joseph, save me. Amen."

And the devil-king, crossing himself, beating his breast, and babbling paternosters turn by turn, rose to his feet and said to Smetse: "Put me in the sack, smith."

This Smetse did gladly, rolled him into the sack, leaving only his head thrust out, drew tight round his neck the stout cords, and placed the devil on an anvil.

At this spectacle the workmen burst out laughing, clapping their hands together, and saying a hundred merry things to one another.

"Smith," asked the devil, "are these Flemings laughing at me?"

"Yes, Sire."

"What are they saying, smith?"

"Oh, Sire, they are saying that horses are caught by means of corn; dogs by liver; asses by thistles; hogs by swill; trout by curdled blood; carp by cheese; pike by gudgeon; and a humbug of your kidney by tales of false miracles."

"Ho, the traitor smith," howled the devil, grinding his teeth, "he has taken in vain the name of my Master St. Joseph, he has lied without shame."

"Yes, Sire."

"And thou wilt dare to beat me as thou didst Jacob Hessels and my faithful duke?"

"Even more heartily, Sire. Nevertheless 'tis only if you so wish it. You shall be set free if you please. Free if you give me back the deed; beaten if you are fixed in your idea of carrying me off to hell."

"Give thee back the deed! "roared the devil, "I would rather suffer a thousand deaths in a single moment."

"Sire King," said Smetse, "I pray you to think of your bones, which seem to me none too sound as it is. Consider also that the opportunity is a good one for us to avenge on your person our poor Flanders, so drenched in blood at your hands. But it displeases me to pass a second time where has passed already the wrath of the very just God. So give me back the deed; grace, Sire King, or 'twill begin raining presently."

"Grace!" said the devil, "grace to a Fleming! perish Flanders rather! Ah, why have I not again, one single day, as much power, armies, and riches as I will; Flanders would give up her soul quickly. Then famine should reign in the land, parching the soil, drying up the water-springs and the life of plants; the last ghostly inhabitants of the empty towns would wander like phantoms in the streets, killing one another in heaps to find a little rotten food; bands of famished dogs would snatch newborn children from their mothers' withered breasts and devour them; famine should lie where had been plenty, dust where had been towns, crows where had been men; and on this earth stripped naked, stony, and desolate, on this burial-ground, I would set up a black cross with this inscription: Here lies Flanders the heretic, Philip of Spain passed over her breast!"

So saying the devil foamed at the mouth with wrath, but scarce were his last words cold from his lips when all the hammers and bars in the smithy fell on him at once. And Smetse and his workmen, striking in turn, said: "This is for our broken charters and our privileges violated despite thine oath, for thou wast perjurer.

"This is for that when we called thee thou didst not dare come into our land, where thy presence would have cooled the hottest heads, for thou wast coward.

"This is for the innocent Marquess of Berg-op-Zoom, whom thou poisoned in prison, so that his inheritance might be thine; and for the Prince of Ascoly, whom thou madest to marry Dona Eufrasia, in child by thy seed, so that his wealth might enrich the bastard that was coming. The Prince died also, like so many others, for thou wert poisoner of bodies.

"This is for the false witnesses paid by thee, and thy promise to ennoble whomever would kill Prince William for money, for thou wast poisoner of souls."

And the blows fell heavy, and the king's crown was knocked off, and his body, like the duke's, was no more than a hotch-potch of bones and flesh, without any blood. But the workmen went on with their hammering, saying:

"This is for thine invention of the Tourniquet, wherewith thou didst strangle Montigny, friend of thy son, for thou wast seeker of new tortures.

"This is for the Duke of Alva, for the Counts of Egmont and Hoorn, for all our poor dead, for our merchants who went off to enrich England and Germany, for thou wast death and ruin to our land.

"This is for thy wife, who died by thy deed, for thou wast husband without love.

"This is for thy poor son Charles, who died without any sickness, for thou wast father without bowels.

"This is for the hatred, cruelty, and slaughter with which thou didst make return for the gentleness, confidence, and goodwill of our land, for thou wast king without justice.

"And this is for the Emperor, thy father, who, with his execrable proclamations and edicts, first sounded for our land the stroke of the evil hour. Give him a good drubbing on our account, and tell us thou wilt give back the deed to the baes."

"Yes," wept a melancholy voice, coming from the heap of bones and flesh, "thou hast everything, Smetse, thou art free."

"Give me back the parchment," said Smetse.

"Open the sack," answered the voice.

"Ho," cried Smetse, "yes, yes, indeed, I will open the sack wide, and Master Philip will leap out and take me off to hell with all speed. Oh, the good little devil! But 'tis not now the time for such high pranks. Therefore I make bold to beg your Majesty to give me first the parchment, which he may without difficulty pass up through this gap which is between his neck and the edge of the sacking."

"I will not do it," said the devil.

"That," said Smetse, "is as it pleases your subtle Majesty. In the sack he is, in the sack he may remain; I make no objection. Every man his own humour. But mine will be to leave him in his sack, and in this wise carry him off to Middelburg in Walcheren, and there ask the prefect that leave be given me to build a good little stone box in the market-place and therein to place your Majesty, leaving outside his melancholy countenance. So placed he will be able to see at a close view the happiness, joy, and prosperity of the men of the reformed faith: that will be a fine treat for him, which might be added to, on feast-days and market-days, by an unkind blow or two which people would give him in the face, or some wicked strokes with a stick, or some spittle dropped on him without respect. You will have besides, Sire, the unutterable satisfaction of seeing many good pilgrims from Flanders, Brabant, and your other blood-soaked countries come to Middelburg to pay back with good coin of their staves their old debt to your Most Merciful Majesty."

"Ah," said the devil, "I will not have this shame put upon me. Take, smith, take the parchment."

Smetse obeyed, and saw that it was indeed his own, then went and dipped it in holy water, where it turned into dust.

At this he was filled with joy and opened the sack for the devil, whose bones moved and became joined again to one another. And he took on again his withered shape, his hungry vermin, and his devouring sores.

Then, covering himself with his cloak of cloth-of-gold, he went out of the smithy, while Smetse cried after him: "Good journey to you, and a following wind, Master Philip!"

And on the quay the devil kicked against a stone, which opened of itself and showed a great hole, wherein he was swallowed suddenly up like an oyster.

XVI. Wherein Smetse beholds on the River Lys a most marvellous sight.

When the devil had gone Smetse was almost off his head with joy, and ran to his wife, who had come to the door of the kitchen, and thumped her for joy, seized her, kissed her, hugged the good woman, shook her, pressed her to him, ran back to his men, shook them all by the hand, crying: "By Artevelde! I am quits, Smetse is quits!" And he seemed to have a tongue for nothing else but that he was quits! And he blew in his wife's ear, into his workmen's faces, and under the nose of a bald and wheezing old cat who sat up in one corner and got quit with him by a scratch in the face.

"The rascal," said Smetse, "does not seem glad enough at my deliverance. Is he another devil, think you? They say they disguise themselves in every kind of shape. Ho," said he to the cat, who was arching her back in annoyance, "hast heard, listened, and understood, devil cat? I am quit and free, quit and franked, quit and happy, quit and rich! And I have made fools of all the devils. And from now on I will live gaily as becomes a quit smith. Wife, I will send this very day a hundred philipdalers to Slimbroek, so that that poor sinner may also rejoice at Smetse's quittance."

But his wife said nothing, and when Smetse went to look for her he found her on the stair with a great bowl of holy water in her hands, in which she was dipping a fair sprig of palm branch.

Coming into the smithy she began to sprinkle with the palm her man and the workmen, and also the hammers, anvils, bellows, and other tools.

"Wife," said Smetse, trying to escape the wetting, "what art thou at?"

"I am saving thee," said she, "presumptuous smith. Dost verily think that, being freed of devils, thou hast for thine own the chattels that come from them? Dost think that though they have lost the soul which was to be their payment they will leave thee thy riches. Ho, the good fool! They will come back again, yes; and if I do not sprinkle thee with this holy water, and myself likewise, and all these good men, who knows with what evils they may not torment us, alas!"

And the good wife was working away with her palm-branch when suddenly a great thunder rumbled under the earth, shaking the quay, and the stones cracked, the panes shivered in the windows, all the doors and casements in the smithy opened of themselves, and a hot wind blew.

"Ah," said she, "they are coming; pray, my man!"

And suddenly there appeared in the sky the figure of a man, naked and of marvellous beauty. He was standing in a chariot of diamond, drawn by four flaming horses. And he held in his right hand a banner, whereon was written: "More beautiful than God." And from the body of this man, whereof the flesh shone brightly, came golden rays which lit up the Lys, the quay and the trees like sunlight. And the trees began to sway and swing their stems and branches, and all the quay seemed to roll like a ship upon the sea, and thousands of voices called out together: "Lord, we cry hunger and thirst; Lord, feed us; Lord, give us to drink."

"Ah," said the good wife, "here is my Lord Lucifer and all his devils!"

And when the voices had ceased the man made a sign with his hand, and of a sudden the waters of the Lys rose as if God had lifted up the river-bed. And the river became like a rough sea; but the waves did not roll on the quay, but each lifted separately, bearing on its crest a foam of fire. Then each of these flames rose into the air, drawing up the water like a pillar, and there seemed to poor Smetse and his wife and the men to be hundreds of thousands of these pillars of water, swaying and foaming.

Then each pillar took on the form of a fearful animal, and suddenly there appeared, mingled together, striking and wounding one another, all the devils whose work was to torment poor damned souls. There were to be seen, crawling over crooked and shivering men's legs, monstrous crabs, devouring those who were servile in their lives. Near these crabs were ostriches bigger than horses, who ran along flapping their wings. Under their tails they had laurel-wreaths, sceptres, and crowns, and behind their tails were made to run those men who in our world spent all their time running after vain honours, without a care for doing good. And the ostriches went quicker than the wind, while the men ran without respite behind them in the effort to get the wreaths, crowns, and sceptres; but they could never reach them. In this way they were led to a treacherous pond full of loathsome mud, wherein they fell shamefully and stayed stuck for all eternity, whilst the mocking ostriches walked up and down on the bank dangling their bawbles.

Among the ostriches were squadrons of many-coloured apes, diapered like butterflies, whose concern was with miserly Jewish and Lombard usurers. These men, when they entered hell, looked round them carefully, screwing up their eyes under their spectacles, collected from the ground divers rusty nails, old breeches, filthy rags, buttons showing the wood, and other old stuff, then dug a hole hastily, hid their treasures in it and went off to sit down some way away. The apes, seeing this, would leap on the hole, empty out its content, and throw it into the fire. Then the misers would weep, make lamentations, and be beaten by the apes, and at last go off to find some more secret place, hide there once again their new depredations, and see once again the hole emptied and the apes coming once again to beat them, and so on for all eternity.

In the air, above the apes, soared eagles, who had, instead of a beak, four-and-twenty matchlock barrels firing together. These eagles were called Royal, because their concern was with conqueror princes, who were too fond in their lifetime of the sounds of war and cannon. And for their punishment these matchlocks were fired off in their faces again and again throughout eternity.

Besides the ostriches, apes, and eagles, reared up a great serpent with a bear's coat, who writhed and twisted this way and that. He was of great length and breadth, beyond all measure, and had a hundred thousand hairy arms, in each of which he held an iron pike as sharp as a razor. He was called the Spaniards' Serpent, because in hell it was his task to gash about with his pikes without mercy all the bands of traitor pillagers who had despoiled our good country.

Keeping clear of this serpent with great prudence, darted about mischievous little winged pigs whose tails were eels. These tails were designed for the perpetual teazing of such gluttons as came to hell. For the pig would come up to such a one, hold the eel close to his mouth, and, when he tried to bite it, suddenly fly away from him, and so on throughout eternity.

There were to be seen also, marching up and down in their gorgeous feathers, monstrous peacocks. Whenever some vain dandy came their way, giving himself airs in his fine clothes, one of these peacocks would go to him and spread its tail, as if inviting him to pluck out a fine feather for his bonnet. But as soon as the dandy approached to take his feather, Master Peacock would let fly in his face with filthy and evil-smelling water, which spoilt all his fine clothes. And throughout eternity the dandy would try to get the feather, and throughout eternity be so swilled down.

Among these fearful animals, wandered two by two male and female grasshoppers as big as a man, the one playing on a pipe, and the other brandishing a great knotted stick. Whenever they saw a man who, in his lifetime, leapt, by cowardice, from good to evil, from black to white, from fire to water, always on the side of the strongest, these grasshoppers would go to him, and one would play the pipe, while the other, leaning on his stick with great dignity, would say: "Leap for God," and the man would leap; "Leap for the Devil," and the man would leap again; "Leap for Calvin, leap for the Mass, leap for the goat, leap for the cabbage," and the man would keep leaping. But he never leapt high enough for the liking of the grasshopper with the stick, and so he was each time belaboured in a most pitiless manner. And he leapt without ceasing and was belaboured without respite, while the pipe made continual pleasant music, and so on throughout eternity.

Farther on, naked and lying on cloths of gold, silk, and velvet, covered with pearls and a thousand resplendent gems, more beautiful than the most beautiful ladies of Ghent, Brussels, or Bruges, lascivious and smiling, singing, and playing on sweet instruments, were the wives of the devils. These dealt out punishment to old rakes, corrupters of youth and beauty. To them these she-devils would call out amorously, but they could never get near them. Throughout eternity these poor rakes had to look at them without being able to touch them even with the tip of the nail of their little finger. And they wept and made lamentation, but all in vain, and so on through centuries and centuries.

There were also mischievous little devils with drums, made of the skins of hypocrites, whose masks hung down over the drum case as ornament. And the hypocrites to whom they belonged, without their skins, without their masks, in all their ugliness, ashamed, hooted, hissed, spat at, eaten up by horrible flies, and followed by the little devils beating their drums, had to wander up and down hell throughout eternity.

It was good to see also the devils of conceited men. These were fine great leathern bottles full of wind, finished off with a beak, at the end of which was a reed. These bottles had eagle's feet and two good little arms, with fingers long enough to go round the widest part of the bottle. When the conceited man came into hell, saying: "I am great, I am grand, strong, beautiful, victorious, I will overcome Lucifer and marry his dam Astarte," the leathern bottles would come up to him and say, with a deep reverence: "My lord, will you be pleased to let us speak a word to you in secret, touching your high designs?" "Yes," he would say. Then two bottles would stuff their reeds into his ears in such a manner that he could not get them out again, and begin to press in their bellies with their long fingers, so as to force wind into his head, which thereupon swelled up, large and always larger, and Master Self-Conceit rose into the air and went off to wander throughout eternity, with his head bumping the ceiling of hell, and his legs waving in the air in the efforts to get down again; but all in vain.

Marvellous devils were certain apes of quicksilver, always running, tumbling, leaping, coming, and going. These devils bore down on the lazy fellows who were thrown to them, gave them a spade to dig earth with, a sword to polish, a tree to trim, or a book to con. The lazybones would look at the task set him, saying: "To-morrow," and would stretch his arms, scratching and yawning. But as soon as he had his mouth wide open the ape would stuff into it a sponge soaked in quintessence of rhubarb. "This," he would say mockingly, "is for to-day; work, slug, work." Then, while the lazybones was retching, the devil would thump him, shake him a hundred different ways, giving him no more peace than a gadfly gives a horse, and so on throughout eternity.

Pleasing devils were pretty little children very wide-awake and mischievous, whose concern was to teach learned orators to think, speak, weep, and laugh according to common nature. And when they did otherwise the little devils would rap them sharply on the knuckles. But the poor pedants could no longer learn, being too heavy, old, and stupid; so they had a rap on the knuckles every day and a whipping on Sundays.

And all these devils cried out together: "Master, we are hungry; Master, give us to eat, pay somewhat for the good services we render thee."

And suddenly the man in the chariot made a sign, and the good River Lys threw all these devils on the quay, as the sea splashes on the shore, and they hissed loud and terribly at landing.

And Smetse, his wife, and the workmen heard the doors of the cellars open with a loud noise, and all the casks of bruinbier came hissing up the stairs, and hissing across the floor of the forge, and still hissing described a curve in the air and fell among the crowd of all the devils. And so also did the bottles of wine, so also the hams, loaves, and cheeses, and so also the good crusats, angelots, philipdalers, and other moneys, which were all changed into meat and drink. And the devils fell over one another, fought, scrambled, wounded themselves, forming only one great mass of battling monsters, howling and hissing, and each trying to get more than the others. When there was left neither drop nor crumb, the man in the chariot made another sign, and all the devils melted into black water and flowed into the river, where they disappeared. And the man vanished from the sky.

And Smetse Smee was as poor as before, save for one little bag of golden royals, which his wife had by chance sprinkled with holy water, and which he kept, although it came from the devil. But this, as you shall see, did not profit him at all. And he lived with great content until he died suddenly one day in his smithy, at the great and blessed age of ninety-three years.

XVII. Of Hell, of Purgatory, of the long ladder, and finally of Paradise.

When he was dead his soul had to pass through Hell in the guise of a smith. Coming thither he saw, through the open windows, the devils which had so frightened him in the vision on the Lys, and who were now busy torturing and tormenting the poor damned souls as terribly as they could. And Smetse went to the doorkeeper; but the doorkeeper, on seeing him, howled out in a most awful fashion: "Smetse is here, Smetse Smee the traitor smith!" And he would not let him in. Hearing the hubbub, My Lord Lucifer, Madam Astarte, and all their court came to the windows, and all the other devils after them.

And they all cried out in fear:

"Shut the doors, 'tis the enchanted Smetse, Smetse the traitor smith, Smetse the beater of poor devils. If he comes in here he will overset, spoil, break up everything. Begone, Smetse!"

"My masters," said Smetse, "if I do indeed come hither to look at your snouts, which are not beautiful I promise ye, 'tis not at all for my pleasure; and besides, I am not by any means anxious to come in. So do not make such a noise, master devils."

"Yes, indeed, my fine smith," answered Madam Astarte, "thou showest a velvet pad now, but when thou art within thou wilt show thy claws and thine evil intention, and will slay us all, me, my good husband, and all our friends. Be off, Smetse; be off, Smee."

"Madam," said Smetse, "you are indeed the most beautiful she-devil I ever saw, but that is, nevertheless, no reason why you should think so ill of a fellow-creature's intentions."

"Hark to the fellow!" said Madam Astarte, "how he hides his wickedness under sugared words! Drive him away, devils, but do him no great harm."

"Madam," said Smetse, "I beg you to listen."

"Be off, smith!" cried out all the devils; and they threw burning coals at him, and whatever else they could find. And Smetse ran off as fast as his legs would take him.

When he had travelled some way he came before Purgatory. On the other side was a ladder, with this inscription at its foot: "This is the road to the good Paradise."

And Smetse, filled with joy, began to climb the ladder, which was made of golden thread, with here and there a sharp point sticking out, in virtue of that saying of God which tells us: "Broad is the way which leadeth to Hell, strait and rough the way to Heaven." And, indeed, Smetse soon had his feet sore. Nevertheless, he made his way upward without halting, and only stopped when he had counted ten hundred thousand rungs and could see no more of either earth or hell. And he became thirsty. Finding nothing to drink he became a little sullen, when suddenly he saw a little cloud coming past, and drank it up joyfully. It did not indeed seem to him as good drink as bruinbier, but he took consolation from the thought that it is not possible to have comforts everywhere alike. A little higher up the ladder he suddenly had hard work to keep his bonnet on his head, by reason of a treacherous autumn wind which was going down to earth to pull off the last leaves. And by this wind he was sorely shaken, and nearly lost his hold. After he was out of this pass he became hungry, and regretted the good earthly beef, smoked over pine-cones, which is so good a food for poor wayfarers. But he took heart, thinking that it is not given to man to understand everything.

Suddenly he saw an eagle of terrible aspect coming upon him from the earth. Thinking for certain that he was some fat sheep, the eagle rose above him and would have dropped on him like a cannon-ball; but the good smith had no fear, bent to one side and caught the bird by the neck, which he wrung subtly. Then, still going up, he hastened to pluck it, ate morsels of it raw, and found them stringy. Nevertheless, he took this meat with patience, because he had no other. Then, patiently and bravely, he climbed for several days and several nights, seeing nothing but the blue of the sky and innumerable suns, moons, and stars above his head, under his feet, to right, to left, and everywhere. And he seemed to be in the midst of a fair great globe, whereof the inner walls had been painted this fair blue, strewn with all these suns, moons, and stars. And he was frightened by the great silence and by the immensity.

Suddenly he felt a genial warmth, heard sweet voices singing, distant music, and the sound of a city toiling. And he saw a town of infinite size girt about with walls, over which he could see housetops, trees, and towers. And he felt that he was moving more quickly despite his own legs, and by and by, leaving the last rung behind, he set foot before the gate of the town.

"By Artevelde!" said he, "here is the good Paradise."

And he knocked on the gate; St. Peter came to open to him.

Smetse was somewhat frightened at the gigantic appearance of the good saint, his great head of hair, his red beard, his large face, his high forehead, and his piercing eyes, with which he looked at him fixedly.

"Who art thou?" quoth he.

"Master St. Peter," said the smith, "I am Smetse Smee, who in his lifetime lived at Ghent on the Quai aux Oignons, and now prays you to let him enter your good Paradise."

"No," said St. Peter.

"Ah, my master!" said Smetse most piteously, "if 'tis because in my lifetime I sold my soul to the devil, I make bold to tell you that I repented most heartily, and was redeemed from his power and kept nothing that was his."

"Excepting a sackful of royals," said the saint, "and on that account thou shalt not come in."

"Master," said the smith, "I am not so guilty as you suppose; the sack stayed in my house because it had been blessed, and for that reason I thought I might well keep it. But take pity on me, for I knew not what I was doing. I pray you also to deign to consider that I come from a far country, that I am greatly tired, and would gladly rest in this good Paradise."

"Be off, smith," said the saint, who was holding the door a crack open.

Meanwhile Smetse had slipped through the opening, and taking off his leathern apron sat down, saying:

"Master, I am here rightfully, you cannot turn me out."

But St. Peter bade a troop of halberdier angels who were near at hand drive him away: and this the halberdier angels did with great dispatch.

Thereafter, Smetse did not cease to beat on the door with his fists, and lamented, wept, and cried out: "Master, have pity on me, let me in, my master; I repent of all the sins I have committed, and even the others as well. Master, grant me permission to enter the blessed Paradise. Master...." But Master St. Peter, hearing this, put his head over the wall:

"Smith," said he, "if thou wilt persist in this uproar, I shall have thee sent to Purgatory."

And poor Smetse held his peace, and sat down on his seat, and so passed sad days, watching others enter.

In this wise a week went by, during which he lived on a few scraps of bread which were thrown to him over the wall, and on grapes gathered from a sour vine which grew on the outer face of the wall of Paradise in this part.

And Smetse was most unhappy, leading this idle existence. And he sought in his head for some work or other which would gladden him somewhat. Having found it, he shouted as loud as he could, and St. Peter put his head over the wall.

"What wilt thou, Smetse?" said he.

"Master," answered the smith, "will you be pleased to let me go down to earth for one night, so that I may see my good wife and look to my affairs?"

"Thou mayst, Smetse," answered St. Peter.

XVIII. Wherein it is seen why Smetse was whipped.

It was then All Saints' Eve; bitter was the cold, and Smetse's good wife was in her kitchen, brewing some good mixture of sugar, yolk of egg, and bruinbier, to cure her of an evil catarrh, which had lain upon her ever since her man died.

Smetse came and knocked at the window of the kitchen, whereat his wife was greatly frightened.

And she cried out sadly: "Do not come and torment me, my man, if 'tis prayers thou wilt have. I say as many as I can, but I will say more if need be. Wilt thou have masses said? Thou shalt have them, and prayers and indulgences likewise. I will buy them, my man, I promise thee; but go back quickly whence thou camest."

Nevertheless Smetse went on knocking. "'Tis not masses or prayers," said he, "that I want, but shelter, food, and drink, for bitter is the cold, rude the wind, sharp the frost. Open, wife."

But she, on hearing him speak thus, prayed the more and cried out the louder, and beat her breast and crossed herself, but made no move to open the door, saying only: "Go back, go back, my man; thou shalt have prayers and masses."

Suddenly the smith discerned an open window in the attic. He climbed up and entered the house by that means, went down the stair, and, opening the door, appeared before his wife; but as she kept drawing back before him as he advanced, crying out and calling the neighbours at the top of her voice, Smetse stood still so as not to frighten her further, sat down on a stool, and said:

"Dost not see, mother, that I am indeed Smetse, and wish thee no harm?"

But his wife would listen to nothing and crept back into a corner. Thence with her teeth a-chatter, and her eyes open wide, she made a sign to him to leave her, for she could no longer find her tongue, by reason of her great fear.

"Wife," said the smith in friendly tones, "is it thus that thou givest greeting and welcome to thy poor husband, after the long time he has been away? Alas, hast forgot our old comradeship and union?"

Hearing this soft and joyous voice she answered in a low tone and with great timidity:

"No, dead master."

"Well then," said he, "why art thou so afraid? Dost not know thy man's fat face, his round paunch, and the voice which in former days sang so readily hereabout?"

"Yes," she said, "I know thee well enough."

And why," said he, "if thou knowest me, wilt not come to me and touch me?"

"Ah," said she, "I dare not, master, for 'tis said that whatever member touches a dead man is itself dead."

"Come, wife," said the smith, "and do not believe all these lying tales."

"Smetse," said she, "will you in good truth do me no hurt?"

"None," said he, and took her by the hand.

"Ah," she said suddenly, "my poor man, thou art cold and hungry and thirsty indeed!"

"Yes," said he.

"Well then," said she, "eat, drink, and warm thyself."

While Smetse was eating and drinking he told his wife how he had been forbidden the door to Paradise, and how he designed to take from the cellar a full cask of bruinbier and bottles of French wine, to sell to those who went into the Holy City, so that he might be well paid, and with the money he received buy himself better food.

"This, my man," she said, "is all very well, but will Master St. Peter give thee permission to set up at the gates of Paradise such a tavern?"

"Of that," he said, "I have hope."

And Smetse, laden with his cask and bottles, went his way back, up towards the good Paradise.

Having reached the foot of the wall he set up his tavern in the open air, for the weather is mild in this heavenly land, and on the first day all who went in drank at Smetse's stall, and paid him well out of compassion.

But one or two became drunk, and entering Paradise in this state, set Master Peter inquiring into the cause of it; and having found it out he enjoined Smetse to stop his selling, and had him whipped grievously.

XIX. Of the fair judgment of My Lord Jesus.

Not long afterwards the good wife died also, by reason of the terror that had seized hold of her at the sight of her man's ghost.

And her soul went straight towards Paradise, and there she saw, sitting with his seat against the wall, the poor Smetse in a fit of melancholy brooding. When he saw her he jumped up with great joy, and said:

"Wife, I will go in with thee."

"Dost thou dare?" said she.

"I will hide myself," said he, "under thy skirt, which is wide enough for us both, and so I shall pass without being seen."

When he had done this she knocked on the door, and Master St. Peter came to open it. "Come in," he said, "good wife." But seeing Smetse's feet below the hem of the skirt: "This wicked smith," he cried, "will he always be making fun of me? Be off, devil-baggage!"

"Ah, my master," said she, "have pity on him, or else let me stay out, too, to keep him company."

"No," said Master St. Peter, "thy place is here, his is outside. Come in then, and let him be off at once."

And the good wife went in while Smetse stayed outside. But as soon as the noonday hour came, and the angel cooks had brought the good wife her beautiful rice pudding, she went to the wall and put her head over it.

"Art thou there," she said, "my man?"

"Yes," said he.

"Art thou hungry?" she said.

"Yes," said he.

"Well then," she said, "spread thy leathern apron; I will throw thee the pudding which has just been given me."

"But thou," said he, "wilt thou eat nothing?"

"No," said she, "for I have heard it said that there is supper by and by."

Smetse ate the rice pudding, and was suddenly filled with comfort, for the pudding was more succulent and delicious than the finest meats of the earth. Meanwhile his wife went off to walk about in the good Paradise, and afterwards came back to Smetse to tell him what she had seen.

"Ah," she said, "my man, 'tis a most beautiful place. Would that I could see thee within! Round about My Lord Jesus are the pure intelligences who discuss with him whatever is goodness, love, justice, knowledge, and beauty, and also the best means of governing men and making them happy. Their speech is like music. And all the while they keep throwing down to earth the seeds of beautiful, good, just and true thoughts. But men are so wicked and stupid that they tread underfoot these fair seeds or let them wither away. Farther on, established in their several places, are potters and goldsmiths, masons, painters, tanners and fullers, carpenters and shipbuilders, and thou shouldst see what fine work they do, each in his own trade. And when they have made some progress they cast down the seed of that also towards the earth, but 'tis lost oftentimes."

"Wife," said Smetse, "didst see no smiths?"

"Yes," said she.

"Alas," said he, "I would gladly be working alongside them, for I am ashamed to be sitting here like a leper, doing nothing and begging my bread. But listen, wife; since Master St. Peter will not let me in, go thou and ask grace for me from My Lord Jesus, who is kind and will let me in for certain."

"I go, my man," said she.

My Lord Jesus, who was in council with his doctors, saw her coming towards him. "I know thee, good wife," said he; "thou wast in thy lifetime wedded to Smetse the smith, who entreated me so well when, in the guise of a little child, I came down to earth with Master Joseph and Madam Mary. Is he not in Paradise, thy good man?"

"Alas, no, My Lord!" answered she, "my man is at the door, most sad and out of heart, because Master St. Peter will not let him in."

"Why is that?" said My Lord Jesus.

"Ah, I cannot tell," said she.

But the angel who writes down the faults of men in a record of brass, speaking suddenly, said: "Smetse cannot enter Paradise, for Smetse, delivered from the devil, kept devil's money."

"Ah," said My Lord Jesus, "that is a great sin; but has he not repented of it?"

"Yes," said the good wife, "he has repented, and, moreover, he has been all his life good, charitable, and compassionate."

"Go and find him," said My Lord Jesus, "I will question him myself."

Two or three halberdier angels ran to obey him, and brought Smetse before the Son of God, who spoke in this wise:

"Smetse, is it true that thou didst keep devil's money?"

"Yes, My Lord," answered the smith, whose knees were knocking together with fear.

"Smetse, this is not good, for a man should rather suffer every ill, pain, and anguish, than keep the money of one who is wicked, ugly, unjust, and a liar, as is the devil. But hast thou no meritorious deed to tell me, to mitigate this great sin?"

"My Lord," answered Smetse, "I fought a long while beside the men of Zeeland for freedom of conscience, and, doing this, suffered with them hunger and thirst."

"This is good, Smetse, but didst thou persist in this fair conduct?"

"Alas, no, My Lord!" said the smith, "for, to tell truth, my courage lacked constancy, and I went back to Ghent, where, like so many another, I came under the Spanish yoke."

"This is bad, Smetse," answered My Lord Jesus.

"My Lord," wept the good wife, "none was more generous than he to the poor, kind to every one, charitable to his enemies, even to the wicked Slimbroek."

"This is good, Smetse," said My Lord Jesus; "but hast thou no other merit in thy favour?"

"My Lord," said the smith, "I have always laboured with a good heart, hated idleness and melancholy, loved joy and merriment, sung gladly, and drunk with thankfulness the bruinbier which came to me from you."

"This is good, Smetse, but it is not enough."

"My Lord," answered the smith, "I thrashed as soundly as I could the wicked ghosts of Jacob Hessels, the Duke of Alva, and Philip II, King of Spain."

"Smetse," said My Lord Jesus, "this is very good. I grant thee leave to enter my Paradise."

UNIFORM WITH "FLEMISH LEGENDS"

THE LEGEND OF TYL ULENSPIEGEL

BY CHARLES DE COSTER

Translated by Geoffrey Whitworth. With 20 Woodcuts by
Albert Delstanche. 7s. 6d. net

SOME PRESS OPINIONS

"Tyl Ulenspiegel is not yet, in most English households, an old friend. Yet we believe that the fellow will soon make his brave and humorous way into the friendship of old and young. And the twenty full-page woodcuts with which M. Albert Delstanche has illustrated this edition will help the friendship on. All the heartiness, the ruggedness, the fun, and the gloom of one tragic period in the history of a homely and much-enduring people are expressed through the eye to the mind by M. Delstanche's knowledge and skill."--The Times.