Chapter VI: Part 6

I had enough of this, and travelling on, I saw a little way off a great enclosure, and a world of souls shut up in’t; some of them weeping and lamenting without measure, others in a profound silence. And this I understood to be the lovers’ quarter. It saddened me to consider, that death itself could not kill the lamentations of lovers. Some of them were discoursing their passions, and teasing themselves with fears and jealousies; casting all their miseries upon their appetites and fancies, that still made the picture infinitely fairer than the person. They were for the most part troubled with a simple disease, called (as the devil told me) “I thought.” I asked him what that was, and he answered me, it was a punishment suitable to their offence: for your lovers, when they fall short of their expectations, either in the pursuit or enjoyment of their mistresses, they are wont to say, “Alas! I thought she would have loved me; I thought she would never have pressed me to marry her; I thought she would have been a fortune to me; I thought she would have given me all she had; I thought she would have cost me nothing; I thought she would have asked me nothing; I thought she would have been true to my bed; I thought she would have been dutiful and modest; I thought she would never have kept her gallant.” So that all their pain and damnation comes from I thought this or that, or so, or so.

In the middle of them was Cupid, a little beggarly rogue, and as naked as he was born, only here and there covered with an odd kind of embroidery: but whether it was the workmanship of the itch, pox, or measles, I could not perfectly discover; and close by him was this inscription—

Many a good fortune goes to wrack;
And so does many an able back;
With following whores and cards and dice,
Were poxed and beggared in a trice.

“Aha!” said I, “by these rhymes methinks the poets should not be far off;” and the word was hardly out of my mouth, when I discovered millions of them through a park pale, and so I stopped to look upon them. (It seems in hell they are not called poets now, but fools.) One of them showed me the women’s quarter there hard by, and asked me what I thought of it, and of the handsome ladies in it. “Is it not true,” says he, “that a buxom lass is a kind of half chamber-maid to a man? when she has stripped him and brought him to bed, she has done her business, and never troubles herself any further about the helping him up again, and dressing him.” “How now,” said I, “Have ye your quirks and conceipts in hell? In troth ye are pleasant: I thought your edge had been taken off.” With that, out stepped the most miserable wretch of the whole company laden with irons: “Ah!” quoth he, “I would to God the first inventor of rhymes and poetry were here in my place,” and then he went on with this following and sad complaint.

A COMPLAINT OF THE POETS IN HELL

Oh, this damned trade of versifying
Has brought us all to hell for lying!
For writing what we do not think;
Merely to make the verse cry clink.
For rather than abuse the metre,
Black shall be white, Paul shall be Peter.

One time I called a lady, whore;
Which in my soul she was no more
Than I am; a brave lass, no beggar,
And true, as ever man laid leg o’er.
Not out of malice, Jove’s my witness,
But merely for the verses fitness.
“Now we’re all made,” said I, “if luck hold,”
And then I called a fellow cuckold;
Though the wife was (or I’ll be hanged)
As good a wench as ever twanged.
I was once plaguely put to’t;
This would not hit, that would not do’t;
At last, I circumcised (’tis true)
A Christian, and baptized a Jew.
Nay I’ve made Herod innocent
For rhyming to Long-Parliament:
Now to conclude, we are all damned ho,
For nothing but a game at crambo.
And for a little jingling pleasure,
Condemned to torments without measure:
Which is a little hard in my sense,
To fry thus for poetic licence.
’Tis not for sin of thought or deed,
But for bare sounds, and words we bleed:
While the cur Cerberus lies growling
In consort with our catterwowling.

So soon as he had done. “There is not in the world,” said I, “a more ridiculous frenzy than yours, to be poetising in hell. The humour sticks close sure, or the fire would have fetched it out.” “Nay,” cried a devil, “these versifiers are a strange generation of buffoons. The time that others spend in tears and groans for their sins and follies, these wretches employ in songs and madrigals; and if they chance to light upon the critical minute, and get a snap at a lady, all’s worth nothing, unless the whole kingdom ring of it, in some miserable sing-song or other, under the name forsooth of Phyllis, Chloris, Silvia, or the like: and the goodly idol must be decked and dressed up with diamond, pearl, rubies, musk, and amber, and both the Indies are too little to furnish eyes, lips, and teeth for this imaginary goddess. And yet after all this magnificence and bounty, it would put the poor devil’s credit upon the stretch, to take up an old petticoat in Long Lane, or a pair of cast-shoes, at the next cobbler’s. Beside, we can give no account either of their country or religion. They have Christian names, but most heretical souls; they are Arabians in their hearts: and in their language, Gentiles; but to say the truth, they fall short of the right Pagans in their manners.” If I stay here a little longer, (said I to myself) this spiteful devil will hit me over the thumbs ere I’m aware; for I was half jealous, that he took me already for a piece of a poet.

For fear of being discovered, I went my way, and my next visit was to the impertinent devotees, whose very prayers are made up of impiety and extravagance. Oh! what sighing was there, and sobbing! groaning and whining! Their tongues were tied up to a perpetual silence; their souls drooping, and their ears condemned to hear eternally the hideous cries and reproaches of a wheezing devil, greeting them after this manner. “Oh, ye impudent and profane abusers of prayer and holy duties! that treat the Lord of heaven and earth in His own house, with less respect than ye would do a merchant upon the Change, sneaking into a corner with your execrable petitions, for fear of being overheard by your neighbours; and yet without any scruple at all, ye can expose and offer them up to that Eternal Purity! shameless wretches that ye are! ‘Lord,’ says one, ‘take the old man, my father, to Thyself, I beseech Thee, that I may have his office and estate. Oh, that this uncle of mine would but march off! There’s a fat Bishopric, and a good Deanery; I would the devil had the incumbent so I had the dignity. Now for a lusty pot of guineas, or a lucky hand at dice if it be Thy pleasure, and then I would not doubt of good matches for my children. Lord, make me His Majesty’s favourite and Thy servant; that I may get what’s convenient, and keep what I have gotten. Grant me this, and I do here engage myself, to entertain six blue-coats, and bind them out to good trades; to set up a lecture for every day of the week; to give one-third part of my clear gains to charitable uses; and another, toward the repairing of Paul’s; and to pay all honest debts, so far as may stand with my private convenience.’ Blind and ridiculous madness! for dust and ashes thus to reason and condition with the Almighty! for beggars to talk of giving, and obtrude their vain and unprofitable offerings upon the inexhaustible fountain of riches and bounty! To pray for those things as blessings, which are commonly showered down upon us for our confusion and punishment. And when, in case your wishes take effect, what becomes of all the sacred vows and promises ye made, in storms, (perhaps) sickness or adversity? so soon as ye have gained your port, recovered your health; or patched up a broken fortune, you show yourselves, all of ye, a pack of cheats; your vows and promises are not worth so many rushes: they are forgotten with your dreams; and to keep a promise upon devotion, that you made out of necessity, is no article of your religion. Why do ye not ask for peace of conscience? Increase of grace? The aid of the Blessed Spirit? But you are too much taken up with the things of this world, to attend those spiritual advantages and treasures; and to consider, that the most acceptable sacrifices and obligations you can make to the Almighty, are purity of mind, an humble spirit, and a fervent charity. The Almighty takes delight to be often called upon, that He may often pour down His blessings upon His petitioners. But such is the corruption of human nature, that men seldom think of Him, unless under afflictions; and therefore it is that they are often visited; for by adversity they are brought to the knowledge and exercise of their duty. I would now have you consider, how little reason there is in your ordinary demands. Put case you have your asking; what are you the better for the grant? since it fails you at last; because you did not ask aright. When you die, your estate goes to your children; and for their parts, you are scarce cold, before you are forgotten. You are not to expect they should bestow much upon works of charity; for if nothing went that way while you were living, they’ll live after your example when you are dead. And, beside, there’s no merit in the case.” At this word some of the poor creatures were about to reply; but the devils had put barnacles upon their lips, that hindered them.

From thence, I went to the witches and wizards; such as pretend to cure man and beast by charms, words, amulets, characters: and these were all burning alive. “These,” says a devil, “are a company of cozening rogues; the most accursed villains in nature. If they help one man, they kill another, and only remove the disease from a worse to a better: and yet there’s no great clamour against them neither; for if the patient recover, he’s well enough content, and the doctor gets both reputation and reward for his pains. If he dies, his mouth is stopped, and forty to one the next heir does him a good turn for the dispatch. So that, hit or miss, all is well at last. If you enter into a debate with them about their remedies, they’ll tell you, they learned the mystery of a certain Jew; and there’s the original of the secret. Now to hear these quacks give you the history of their cures, is beyond all the plays and farces in the world. You shall have a fellow tell you of fifteen people that were run clean through the body, and glad for a matter of three days to carry their puddings in their hands; that in four-and-twenty hours he made them as whole as fishes, and not so much as a scar for a remembrance of the orifice. Ask him, when and where? you’ll find it some twelve hundred leagues off, in a _terra incognita_, by the token, that at that time he was physician in ordinary to a great prince that died about five-and-twenty years ago.”

“Come, come,” cried a devil, “make an end of this visit, and you shall see those now that Judas told you were ten times worse than himself.” I went along with him, and he brought me to a passage into a great hall, where there was a damned smell of brimstone, and a company of match-makers, as I thought at first; but they proved afterward to be alchymists, and the devils examining them upon interrogatories, who were filthily put to’t, to understand their gibberish. Their talk was much of the planetary metals; gold they called Sol; silver, Luna; tin, Jupiter; copper, Venus. They had about them their furnaces, crucibles, coal, bellows, clay, minerals, dung, man’s blood, powders, and alembics. Some were calcining, others washing, here purifying, there separating. Fixing what was volatile in one place, and rarefying what was fix in another. Some were upon the work of transmutation, and fixing of mercury with monstrous hammers upon an anvil. And after they had resolved the vicious matter, and sent out the subtler parts, that they came to the coppel, all went away in fume. Some again were in a hot dispute, what fuel was best; and whether Raymund Lullius his fire, and no fire, could be anything else than lime; or otherwise to be understood of the light effective of heat, and not of the effective heat of fire. Others were making their entrance upon the great work, after the hermetical method. Here they were watching the progress of their operations, and making their observations upon proportions and colour. While all the rest of these blind oracles lay waiting for the recovery of the _materia prima_, till they brought themselves to the last cast both of their lives and fortunes, and instead of turning base metals and materials into gold, as they pretended, they made the contrary inversion, and were glad at length to take up with beggarly fools and false coiners. What a stir was there, with crying out, ever and anon! “Look ye, look ye! the old father is got up again; down with him, down with him;” what glossing and commenting upon the old chymical text, that says, “Blessed be Heaven, that has ordered the most excellent thing in nature out of the vilest.” “If so,” quoth one, “let’s try if we can fetch the Philosopher’s Stone out of a common strumpet, which is of all creatures undoubtedly the vilest.” And the word was no sooner out, but a matter of three-and-twenty whores went to pot, but the flesh was so cursedly mawmish and rotten, that they soon gave over the thought of that projection. And then they entered upon a fresh consultation, and concluded, _nemine contradicente_, that the mathematicians, by that rule, were the only fit matter to work upon; as being most damnably dry, (to say nothing of their divisions among and against themselves) so that with one voice, they called for a parcel of mathematicians, to the furnace, to begin the experiment. But a devil came in just in the God-speed, and told them, “Gentlemen philosophers,” says he, “if you would know the wretchedest and most contemptible thing in the world, it is an alchymist: and we are of opinion, that you’ll make as good philosopher’s stones as the mathematicians. However, for curiosity’s sake, we’ll try for once.” And so he threw them all together into a great caldron; and to say the truth, the poor snakes suffered very contentedly; out of a desire, I suppose, to help on toward the perfecting of the operation.

On the other side were a knot of astrologers, and one among the rest that had studied chiromancy or palmistry, who took all the damned by the hands, one after another. One he told, that it was as plain as the nose on his face, that he was to go to the devil, for he perceived it by the Mount of Saturn. “You,” says he to another, “have been a swindging whore-master in your days; I see that by the Mount of Venus here, and by her girdle.” And in short, every man’s destiny he read in his fist. After him advanced another, creeping upon all four, with a pair of compasses betwixt his teeth, his spheres and globes about him, his Jacob’s staff before him, and his eyes upon the stars, as if he were taking a height or making an observation. When he had gazed a while, up he starts of a sudden, and, wringing his hands, “Good Lord,” says he, “what an unlucky dog was I! If I had come into the world but one half quarter of an hour sooner, I had been saved; for just then Saturn shifted, and Mars was lodged in the house of life.” One that followed him, bade his tormentors be sure he was dead; “for,” says he, “I am a little doubtful of it myself; in regard that I had Jupiter for my ascendant, and Venus in the house of life, and no malevolent aspect to cross me. So that by the rules of astrology, I was to live, precisely, a hundred years and one, two months, six days, four hours, and three minutes.” The next that came up was a geomancer; one that reduced all his skill to certain little points, and by them would tell you, as well things past as to come: these points he bestowed at a venture, among several unequal lines; some long, others shorter, like the fingers of a man’s hand; and then, with a certain ribble-rabble of mysterious words, he proceeds to his calculation, upon even or odd, and challenges the whole world to allow him the most learned and infallible of the trade.

There were divers great masters of the science that followed him. As Haly, Gerard, Bart’lemew of Parma, and one Toudin; a familiar friend, and companion of the great Cornelius Agrippa, the famous conjurer, who though he had but one soul was yet burning in four bodies. (I mean the four damnable books he left behind him.) There was Trithemius too, with his polygraphy and stenography; that had devils now, his belly-full, though in his lifetime his complaint was, that he could never have enough of their company; over against him was Cardan; but they could not set their horses together, because of an old quarrel, whether was the more impudent of the two. And there I saw Misaldus, tearing his beard, in rage, to find himself pumped dry; and that he could not fool on, to the end of the chapter. Theophrastus was there too, bewailing himself for the time he had spent at the alchymist’s bellows. There was also the unknown author of _Clavicula Solomonis_, and _The Hundred Kings of Spirits_, with the composer of the book, _Adversus Omnia pericula Mundi_; Taysnerus too, with his book of _Physiognomy_ and _Chiromancy_; and he was doubly punished, first for the fool he was, and then for those he had made. Though, to give the man his due, he knew himself to be a cheat, and that he that gives a judgment upon the lines of a face takes but a very uncertain aim. There were magicians, necromancers, sorcerers, and enchanters innumerable, beside divers private boxes that were kept for lords and ladies; and other personages of great quality, that put their trust in these disciples of the devil, and go to Strand Bridge or Billiter Lane, for resolution in cases of death, love, or marriage, and now and then to recover a gold watch or a pearl necklace.

Not far from these were a company of handsome women, that were tormented in the quality of witches, which grieved my very heart to see it; but to comfort me, “What?” says a devil, “have you so soon forgot the roguery of these carrions? Have you not had trial enough yet of them? they are the very poison of life, and the only dangerous magicians that corrupt all our senses, and disturb the faculties of your soul; these are they that cozen your eyes with false appearances, and set up your wills in opposition to your understanding and reason.” “’Tis right,” said I, “and now you mind me of it, I do very well remember, that I have found them so; but let’s go on and see the rest.”

I was scarce gone three steps farther, but I was got into so hideous a dark place that it was e’en a mercy we knew where we were. There was first at the entrance, Divine Justice, which was most dreadful to behold; and a little beyond stood Vice, with a countenance of the highest pride and insolence imaginable; there was Ingratitude, Malice, Ignorance, obstinate and incorrigible Infidelity, brutish and headstrong Disobedience, rash and imperious Blasphemy, with garments dipped in blood, eyes sparkling, and a hundred pair of chops, barking at Providence, and vomiting rage and poison. I went in (I confess) with fear and trembling, and there I saw all the sects of idolaters and heretics, that ever yet appeared upon the stage of the universe; and at their feet, in a glorious array, was lascivious Barbara, second wife to the Emperor Sigismund, and the queen of harlots: one that agreed with Messalina in this, that virginity was both a burden and a folly; and that in her whole life she was never either wearied or satisfied; but herein she went beyond her, in that she held the mortality as well of the soul as of the body; but she was now better instructed, and burnt like a bundle of matches.

Passing forward still, I spied a fellow in a corner, all alone, with the flames about his ears, gnashing his teeth and blaspheming through fury and despair. I asked him what he was, and he told me he was Mahomet. “Why, then,” said I, “thou art the damnedest reprobate in hell, and hast brought more wretches hither than half the world beside: and Lucifer has done well to allot thee a quarter here by thyself, for certainly thou hast well deserved the first place in his dominions. But since every man chooses to talk of what he loves, I prithee, good impostor, tell me, what’s the reason that thou hast forbidden wine to all thy disciples?” “Oh,” says he, “I have made them so drunk with my Alchoran they need no tipple.” “But why hast thou forbidden them swines’ flesh too?” said I. “Because,” says he, “I would not affront the jambon; for water upon gammon would be false heraldry. And beside I never loved my people well enough to afford them the pleasure, either of the grape or the spare-rib. Nay, and for fear they should chance to grope out the way to heaven, I have established my power and my dominion by force of arms; without subjecting my laws to idle disputes and discourses of reason. Indeed there is little of reason in my precepts, and I would have as little in their obedience. A world of disciples I have, but I think they follow me more out of appetite than religion, or for the miracles I work. I allow them liberty of conscience; they have as many women as they please, and do what they list, provided they meddle not with the Government. But look about ye now, and you’ll find that there are more knaves than Mahomet.”

I did so, and found myself presently surrounded with a ring of heretics, and their adherents; many of which were ready to tear out the throats of their leaders. One among the rest was beset with a brace of devils, and either of them a pair of bellows, puffing into each ear fire instead of air, which made him a little hot-headed. There was another, that, as I was told, was a kind of a symoniac, and had taken up his seat in a pestilential chair; but it was so dark I could not well discern whether it was a Pope or a Presbyter.

By this time I had enough of hell, and began to wish myself out again; but as I was looking about for a retreat, I stumbled upon a long gallery before I was aware: and there I saw Lucifer himself, with all his nobility about him, male and female. (For let married men say their pleasure, there are she-devils too,) I should have been at a damned loss what to do, or how to behave myself among so many strange faces, if one of the ushers had not come to me, and told me, that, being a stranger, it was His Majesty’s pleasure I should enter and have free liberty of seeing what was there to be seen. We exchanged a couple or two of compliments, and then I began to look about me, but never did I see a palace so furnished, nor indeed comparable to it.

Our furniture at the best is but a choice collection of dead and dumb statues, or paintings, without life, sense, or motion; but there, all the pieces were animated, and no trash in the whole inventory; there was hardly anything to be seen, but emperors and princes, with some few (perhaps) of their choicest nobility and privados. The first bank was taken up by the Ottoman family; and after them sat the Roman emperors, in their order; and the Roman kings down to Tarquin the proud; beside highnesses and graces, lords spiritual and temporal innumerable. My lungs began now to call for a little fresh air, and I desired my guide to show me the way out again. “Yes, yes, with all my heart,” says he, “follow me then:” and so he carried me away by a back passage into Lucifer’s house of office, where there was I know not how many ton of Sir Reverence, and bales of flattering panegyrics, not to be numbered; all of them licensed, and entered according to order. I could not but smile at this provision of tail-timber, and my guide took notice of it, who was a good kind of a damned droll. But I called still to be gone, and at length he led me to a little hole like the vent of a vault, and I crept through it as nimbly as if the devil himself had given me a lift at the crupper; when, to my great wonder, I found myself in the park again, where I begun my story: not without an odd medley of passions, partly reflecting upon what others endured, and in part upon my own condition of ease and happiness, that had deserved, perhaps, the contrary as well as they. This thought put me upon a resolution of leading such a course of life, for the future, that I might not come to feel these torments in reality which I had now only seen in vision.

And I must here entreat the reader to follow my example, without making any further experiment; and likewise not to cast an ill construction upon a fair meaning. My design is to discredit and discountenance the works of darkness, without scandalising of persons; and since I speak only of damned, I’m sure no honest man alive will reckon this discourse a satire.

* * * * *

THE END OF THE SIXTH VISION

THE SEVENTH VISION OF HELL REFORMED

THERE happened lately so terrible an uproar, and disorder in hell, that (though it be a place of perpetual outrage and confusion) the oldest devil there never knew the fellow of it; and the inhabitants expected nothing less than an absolute topsy-turvy and dissolution of their empire. The devils fell upon the damned; and the damned fell upon the devils, without knowing one from t’other: and all running helter-skelter, to and again, like mad; for, in fine, it was no other than a general revolt. This hurly-burly lasted a good while, before any mortal could imagine the meaning of it; but at length there came certain intelligence of a monstrous talker, a pragmatical, meddling undertaker, and an old bawd of a gouvernante, that had knocked off their shackles, and made all this havoc: which may give the reader to understand what kind of cattle these are, that could make hell itself more dangerous and unquiet.

Lucifer, in the meantime, went yelping up and down, and bawling for chains, handcuffs, bolts, manacles, shackles, fetters, to tie up his prisoners again; when, in the middle of his career, he and the babbler or talker I told ye of met full-butt; and after a little staring one another in the face, upon the encounter, the babbler opened. “Prince mine,” says he, “you have a pack of lazy, droning devils in your dominions, that look after nothing but sit with their arms and legs across, and leave all your affairs at six and seven. And you have divers abroad too, upon commission, that have stayed out their time, and yet give you no account of their employment.” The gouvernante, who had been blowing the coal and whispering sedition from one to another, chanced to pass by in the interim, and, stopping short, addressed herself to Lucifer: “Look to yourself,” she cried, “there is a desperate plot upon your diabolical crown and dignity. There are two tyrants in’t, three parasites, a world of physicians, and whole legions of lawyers and attorneys. One word more in your ear. There is among them a mongrel priest (a kind of a lay-elder) that will go near to sit upon your skirts, if you have not a care of him.”

At the very name of priest and lay-elder Lucifer looked as pale as death, stood stone-still, as mute as a fish, and in his very looks discovered his apprehensions. After a little pause he roused himself as out of a trance: “A priest do ye say? a lay-elder? tyrants? lawyers? physicians? A composition to poison all the devils in hell, and purge their very guts out.” With that, away he went to visit the avenues and set his guards, and who should he met next but the meddler, in a monstrous haste and hurry. “Nay then,” says he, “here is the forerunner of ill-luck. But what’s the matter?” “The matter?” cried the meddler; and then with a huge deal of tedious and impertinent circumstance, he up and told him that a great many of the damned had contrived an escape; and that there was a design to call in four or five regiments of hypocrites and usurers, under colour forsooth of establishing a better intelligence betwixt earth and hell, with a hundred other fopperies; and had gone on till this time, if Lucifer would have found ears. But he had other fish to fry; for neck and all was now at stake; and so he went about his business of putting all in a posture, and strengthening his guards. And for the further security of his royal person, he entertained into his own immediate regiment several reformadoes of the society, that he particularly knew to be no flinchers.

He began his survey in the vault and dungeons, among his jailers and prisoners. The make-bate babbler marched in the van, breathing an air that kindled and inflamed wherever he passed, without giving any light (setting people together by the ears, they know not why). In the second place the gouvernante, as full of news and tittle-tattle as she could hold, and telling her tale all the way she went. In the breech of her followed the meddler, leering as he passed along, first on one side then on the other, without ever moving his head, and making fair with every soul he saw in’s way. He gave one a bow, t’other a kiss; “Your most humble servant,” to a third; “Can I serve you, sir,” to a fourth: but every compliment was worse to the poor creatures than the fire itself. “Ah, traitor!” says one; “for pity’s sake away with this new tormentor!” cries another. “This fellow is hell upon hell,” says a third. As he trudged on there was a rabble of rascals got together; and in the middle of the crowd a most eminent knight of the post, a (great master of his trade) that was reading a lecture to that venerable assembly, of the noble mystery of swearing and lying; and would have taught any man in one quarter of an hour to prove anything upon oath, that he never saw nor heard of in his life. This doctor had no sooner cast his eye upon the inter-meddler, but up he started in a fright. “How now,” says he, “is that devil here? I came hither on purpose to avoid him; and if I could but have dreamt he’d have been in hell, beyond all dispute I’d have gone myself to paradise.”

As he was speaking we heard a great and a confused noise of arms, blows, and outcries; and presently we discovered several persons falling one upon another like lightning; and in short with such a fury, that ’tis not for any tongue or pen to describe the battle. One of them appeared to be an emperor; for he was crowned with laurel, and surrounded with a grave sort of people, that looked like counsellors or senators; and had all the old statutes and records at their finger’s end: by which they endeavoured to make it out, that a king might be killed in his personal capacity, and his politic capacity never the worse for’t. And upon this point were they at daggers drawn with the emperor. Lucifer came then roundly up to him, and with a voice that made hell quake, “What are you, sir,” says he, “that take upon you thus in my dominions?” “I am the great Julius Cæsar,” quoth he, “that in this general tumult thought to have revenged myself upon Brutus and Cassius, for murdering me in the Senate, under colour (forsooth) of asserting the common liberty: whereas these traitors did it merely out of envy, avarice, and ambition. It was the emperor, not the empire they hated. They pretended to destroy me, for introducing a monarchy; but did they overthrow the monarchy itself? No; but on the contrary, they confirmed it; and did more mischief, in taking away my life than I did in dissolving their republic. However, I died an emperor, and these villains carried only the infamy and brand of regicides to their graves, and the world has ever since adored my memory and abhorred theirs. Tell me,” quoth he, “ye cursed bloodhounds,” (turning toward them) “whether was your government better, think ye, in the hands of your senators, a company of talking gown-men, that knew not how to keep it, or in the hands of a soldier that won it by his merit? It is not the drawing of a charge, or making of a fine oration, that fits people for government; nor will a crown sit well upon the head of a pedant; but let him wear it that deserves it. He is the true patriot that advances the glory of his country, by actions of bravery and honour. Which has more right to rule, think ye, he that only knows the laws, or he that maintains them? The one only studies the government; the other protects it. Wretched republic! Thou call’st it freedom to obey a divided multitude, and slavery to serve a single person; and when a company of covetous little fellows are got together, they must be styled fathers of their country, forsooth; and shall one generous person take up with the name of tyrant? Oh! how much better had it been for Rome to have preserved that one son that made her mistress of the world, than that multitude of fathers, who by so many intestine wars rendered her but a stepmother to her own children. Barbarous and cruel that you are! so much as to mention the name of a commonwealth, considering that since the people tasted of monarchy they have preferred even the worst of princes (as Nero, Tiberius, Caligula, Heliogabalus, etc.) before your tribe of senators.”

This discourse of Cæsar’s struck Brutus with exceeding shame and confusion; but at length, with a feeble and trembling voice, he delivered himself to this effect. “Gentlemen of the Senate,” says he, “do ye not hear Cæsar? or will ye add sin to sin, and suffer all the blame to be cast upon the instruments, when you yourselves were the contrivers of the villainy? Why do ye not answer? for Cæsar speaks to you, as well as to us. Cassius and myself were but your bravoes, and governed by your persuasions and advice, little dreaming of that insatiable ambition that lay lurking under the gravity of your long beards and robes. But ’tis the practice of you all, to arraign that tyranny in the prince, which you would exercise yourselves: in effect, when you have gotten power, and the colour of authority in your hands, it is more dangerous for a prince not to comply with you than for a vassal to rebel against his prince. To what end served your perfidious and ungrateful treason? Make answer to Cæsar. But for our parts, in the conscience of our sin, we feel the severity of our punishment.”

At these words a hollow-eyed, supercilious senator (that had been of the conspiracy, and was then blazing like a pitched barrel) raised himself, and with a faint voice asked Cæsar what reason he had to complain! “For, prince,” says he, “if King Ptolomy murdered Pompey the Great, upon whose score he held his kingdom, why might not the Senate as well kill you, to recover what you had taken from them? And in the case betwixt Cæsar and Pompey, let the devils themselves be judges. As for Achilles (who was one of the murderers) what he did, was by Ptolomy’s command, and then he was but a free-booter neither, a fellow that got his living by rapine and spoil: but Cæsar was undoubtedly the more infamous of the two. ’Tis true, you wept at the sight of Pompey’s head, but such tears as were more treacherous than the steel that killed him. Ah cruel compassion and revengeful piety! that made thee a more barbarous enemy to Pompey, dead than living. Oh that ever two hypocrite eyes should creep into the first head of the world! To conclude, the death of Cæsar had been the recovery of our republic, if the multitude had not called in others of his race to the government, which rendered thy fall the very hydra of the empire.”

We had had another skirmish upon these words, if Lucifer had not commanded Cæsar to his cell again, upon pain of death; and there to abide such correction as belonged to him, for slighting the warnings he had of his disaster. Brutus and Cassius too were turned over to the politic fools: and the senators were dispatched away to Minos and Rhadamanthus, and to sit as assistants in the devils’ bench.

After this I heard a murmuring noise, as of people talking at a distance, and by degrees I made it out that they were wrangling and disputing still louder and louder, till at length it was but a word and a blow, and the nearer I came the greater was the clamour. This made me mend my pace; but before I could reach them, they were all together by the ears in a bloody fray: they were persons of great quality all of them, as emperors, magistrates, generals of armies. Lucifer, to take up the quarrel, commanded them peace and silence, and they all obeyed, but it vexed them to the hearts to be so taken off in the full career of their fury and revenge. The first that opened his mouth was a fellow so martyred with wounds and scars, that I took him at first for an indigent officer; but it proved to be Clitus (as he said himself). And one at his elbow told him, he was a saucy companion, for presuming to speak before his time; and so desired audience of Lucifer, for the high and mighty Alexander, the son of Jupiter, and the emperor and terror of the world: he was going on with his qualities and titles; but an officer gave the word, Silence, and bade Clitus begin; which he took very kindly, and told his story.

“If it may please your Majesty,” says he, “I was the first favourite of this emperor, who was then lord of all the known world, bare the title of the King of Kings, and boasted himself for the son of Jupiter Hammon; and yet after all this glory and conquest, he was himself a slave to his passions: he was rash and cruel, and consequently incapable either of counsel or friendship. While I lived I was near him, and served him faithfully; but it seems he did not entertain me so much for my fidelity as to augment the number of his flatterers; but I found myself too honest for a base office; and still as he ran into any foul excesses, I took a freedom, with all possible modesty, to show him his mistakes. One day, as he was talking slightly of his father Philip (that brave prince, from whom he received as well his honour as his being) I told him frankly what I thought of that ingratitude and vanity, and desired him to treat his dead father with more reverence, as a prince worthy of eternal honour and respect. This commendation of Philip so inflamed him, that presently he took a partisan and struck me dead in the place with his own hand. After this, pray’e where was his divinity, when he gave Abdolominus, (a poor garden-weeder) the kingdom of Sidonia, which was not, as the world would have it, out of any consideration of his virtue, but to mortify and take down the pride and insolence of the Persians. Meeting him here just now in hell, I asked him what was become of his father Jupiter now, that he lay so long by’t, and whether he were not yet convinced that all his flatterers were a company of rascals, who with their incense and altars would persuade him that he was of divine extraction and heir-apparent to the throne and thunder of Jupiter. This now was the ground of our quarrel. But, invectives apart, who but a tyrant would have put a loyal subject to death, only for his affection and regards to the memory of his dead father? how barbarously did he treat his favourites, Parmenio, Philotas, Calisthenes, Amintas, etc., so that good or bad is all a case, for ’tis crime enough to be the favourite of a tyrant; as, in the course of human life, every man dies because he is mortal, and the disease is rather the pretext of his death than the cause of it.” “You find now,” says Satan, “that tyrants will show their people many a dog trick, when the humour takes them. The good they hate, for not being wicked; and the bad, because they are no worse. How many favourites have you ever seen come to a fair and timely end? Remember the emblem of the sponge, and that’s the use that princes make of their favourites: they let them suck and fill, and then squeeze them for their own profit.”

At that word there was heard a lamentable cry, and at the same time a venerable old man, as pale as if he had no blood in his veins, came up to Lucifer, and told him that his emblem of the sponge came very pat to his case; “for,” says he, “I was a great favourite, and a great hoarder of treasure, a Spaniard by birth, the tutor and confidant of Nero, and my name is Seneca. Indeed his bounties were to excess, he gave me without asking, and in taking I was never covetous but obedient. It is in the nature of princes, and it befits their quality, to be liberal where they take a liking, both of honour and fortunes; and ’tis hard for a subject to refuse, without some reflection upon the generosity or discretion of his master. For ’tis not the merit or modesty of the vassal, but the glory of the prince that is in question; and he is the best subject that contributes the most to the splendour and reputation of his sovereign. Nero indeed gave me as much as such a prince could bestow, and I managed his liberalities with all the moderation imaginable; yet all too little to preserve me from the strokes of envious and malicious tongues, which would have it, that my philosophising upon the contempt of the world was nothing else but a mere imposture, that with less danger and notice I might feed and entertain my avarice, and with the fewer competitors. Finding my credit with my master declining, it stood me upon to provide some way or other for my quiet, and to withdraw myself from being the mark of a public envy. So I went directly to Nero, and with all possible respect and humility made him a present back again of his own bounties. The truth is, I had so great a passion for his service, that neither the severity of his nature nor the debauchery of his manners could ever deter me from exhorting him to nobler courses, and paying him all the duties of a loyal subject. Especially in cases of cruelty and blood, I laid it perpetually home to his conscience, but all to little purpose; for he put his mother to death, laid the city of Rome in ashes, and indeed depopulated the empire of honest men. And this drew on Piso’s conspiracy, which was better laid than executed; for upon the discovery, the prime instruments lost their lives; and by Divine Providence this prince was preserved, in order (as one would have thought) to his repentance and change of life. But upon the issue the conspiracy was prevented, and Nero never the better. At the same time he put Lucan to death, only for being a better poet than himself. And if he gave me my choice what death to die, it was rather cruelty than pity; for in the very deliberation which death to choose, I suffered all even in the terror and apprehension that made me refuse the rest. The election I made was to bleed to death in a bath, and I finished my own dispatches hither; where, to my further affliction, I have again encountered this infamous prince, studying new cruelties and instructing the very devils themselves in the art of tormenting.”

At that word Nero advanced, with his ill-favoured face and shrill voice. “It is very well,” says he, “for a prince’s favourite or tutor to be wiser than his master; but let him manage that advantage then with respect, and not like a rash and insolent fool make proclamation presently to the world, that he’s the wiser of the two. While Seneca kept himself within those bounds, I lodged him in my bosom, and the love I had for that man was the glory of my government; but when he came to publish once (what he should have dissembled or concealed) that it was not Nero but Seneca that ruled the empire, nothing less than his blood could make satisfaction for so intolerable a scandal, and from that hour I resolved his ruin. And I had rather suffer what I do a hundred times over than entertain a favourite that should raise his credit upon my dishonour. Whether I have reason on my side or no, I appeal to all this princely assembly: draw near, I beseech ye, as many as are here, and speak freely, my royal brethren, Did ye ever suffer any favourite to escape unpunished, that had the impudence to write [I and my king] to make a stale of majesty, and to publish himself a better statesman than his master?” “No, no,” they cried out all with one voice, “it never was, and never shall be endured, while the world lasts: for we have left our successors under an oath to have a care on’t. ’Tis true, a wise counsellor at a prince’s elbow is a treasure, and ought to be so esteemed while he makes it his business to cry up the abilities and justice of his sovereign; but in the instant that his vanity transports him to the contrary, away with him to the dogs, and down with him, for there’s no enduring of it.”

“All this,” cried Sejanus, “does not yet concern me; for though I had indeed more brains than Tiberius, yet I so ordered it that he had the credit in public of all my private advices. And so sensible he was of my services, that he made me his partner and companion in the empire; he caused my statues to be erected, and invested them with sacred privileges. ‘Let Sejanus live,’ was the daily cry of the people; and in truth, my well-being was the joy of the empire; and far and near there were public prayers and vows offered up for my health. But what was the end of all? When I thought myself surest in my master’s arms and favour, he let me fall, nay he threw me down, caused me to be cut in pieces, delivering me up to the fury of a barbarous and enraged multitude, that dragged me along the streets, and happy was he that could get a piece of my flesh to carry upon a javelin’s point in triumph. And it had been well if this inhuman cruelty had stopped here; but it extended to my poor children, who, though unconcerned in my crimes, were yet to partake in my fate. A daughter I had, whom the very law exempted from the stroke of justice, because of her virginity; but to clear that scruple, she was condemned first to be ravished by the hangman, and then to be beheaded, and treated as her father. My first failing was upon temerity and pride: I would outrun my destiny, defy fortune; and for Divine Providence I looked upon it as a ridiculous thing. When I was once out of the way, I thought doing worse was somewhat in order to being better; and then I began to fortify myself by violence, against craft and malice. Some were put to death, others banished, till, in fine, all the powers of heaven and earth declared themselves against me. I had recourse to all sorts of ill people and means. I had my physician for poisoning, my assassins for revenge; I had my false witnesses and corrupt judges; and, in truth, what instruments of wickedness had I not? And all this, not upon choice or inclination, but purely out of the necessity of my condition. Whenever I should come to fall, I was sure to be forsaken both of good and bad; and therefore I shunned the better sort, as those that would only serve to accuse me; but the lewd and vicious I frequented, to increase the number of my complices, and make my party the stronger. But, after all, if Tiberius was a tyrant, I’ll swear he was never so by my advice; but, on the contrary, I have suffered more from him for plain dealing and dissuading him, than the very subjects of his severity have commonly suffered by him. I know, ’tis charged upon me, that I stirred him up to cruelty, to render him odious, and to ingratiate myself to the people. But who was his adviser, I pray ’e, in this butcherly proceeding against me? Oh Lucifer, Lucifer! you know very well that ’tis the practice of tyrants, when they do amiss themselves, and set their people a-grumbling, to lay all the blame (and punishment too) upon the instrument; and hang up the minister for the master’s fault. ‘This is the end of all favourites,’ cries one; ‘Not a halfpenny matter if they were all served so,’ says another. And every historian has his saying upon this catastrophe, and sets up a buoy to warn after-ages of the rock of court favours. The greatness of a favourite, I must confess, proclaims the greatness of his maker; and the prince that maintains what he has once raised does but justify the prudence of his own choice; and whenever he comes to undo what he has done, publishes himself to be light and unconstant, and does as good as declare himself (even against himself) of the enemy’s party.”

Up stepped Plaintain then, (Severus his favourite) he that was tossed out of a garret window to make the people sport. “My condition in the world,” says he, “was perfectly like that of a rocket or fire-work: I was carried up to a prodigious height in a moment, and all people’s eyes were upon me, as a star of the first magnitude; but my glory was very short-lived, and down I fell into obscurity and ashes.” After him, appeared a number of other favourites; and all of them hearkening to Bellisarius the favourite of Justinian, who, blind as he was, had already knocked twice with his staff, and shaking his head, with a weak and complaining voice, desired audience; which was at length granted him, silence commanded; and he said, as follows.