Chapter III: Part 3

“Oh,” said the devil to me, “if they had done no more than that, they should scarcely have come here; but think of their lost time, knaveries, and secret crimes! In the terrestrial paradise, a male and female comedian enacted a scene, that hath given to the devil the whole human race.”

“Ah! who had they for spectators when they were alone in the world?”

“No, it is not the comedy which damns the players; it is what passes behind the scenes.”

In the following chamber were the physicians and their suit: they composed poisons for themselves; they took the doses when prepared; they bled and purged themselves, and tried every dangerous and disagreeable remedy in medicine, surgery, and chemistry, to procure death to themselves, and could not succeed.

“They once used their art,” said the devil, “for a bad purpose, and now their art fails them at their utmost need: do what they will, they cannot die, because the air of hell is a fire which purifies and conserves.”

In a cabinet near this chamber, were a number of persons endeavouring to make gold, or to speak more plainly, sought to discover the philosopher’s stone: among them I recognised Tarnesier, he who made the nail half gold and half iron, which is in the museum of the duke of Tuscany; also a duke of Saxony, and a duke of the Medici, who knew how to make gold during their lives, but forgot the secret when they came to hell.

“Is, then, the making of gold so heinous a sin?” inquired I of the devil.

“No,” answered he, “but it is a grievous offence not to know how to make it, and that is the reason these gentlemen are here.”

“And the others,” said I, “who never pretended to have made the discovery!”

“Oh, they have not passed off copper for gold, as these have done.”

“Let me see the devotees now,” said I to my conductor; “they are a species of humanity that will divert me.”

“You are right; these are the fools of hell; it will be more instinctive to look at them than those of this apartment.”

As we repassed the chambers we had visited, I heard some one exclaim, “Look at this poor devil, who knows not where to bestow himself; Curiosity is seeking a lodging for him.”

“Signor,” said one of them to me, “remain here, with the devil’s permission, if you cannot be accommodated elsewhere.”

I passed by without answer, not wishing to hold any intercourse with the damned. I found in this place monks and devotees who had hated one another so rancorously, that they had abused the most holy things of religion, and wasted the time of the church in giving vent to their malice, and afterwards would excuse their conduct in terms not used in the world but to express the most moral, sacred, and holy actions.

“Ah, what hypocrites,” said the devil; “it would have been better for them, if they had delivered themselves openly to those pleasures, they concealed under the appearances which deceive the vulgar.”

In another part they were praying after this fashion:—“Lord, let my father soon taste the joys of Paradise, that I may take possession of his estate.”—“Lord, take speedily my uncle to thy bosom, that I may have his benefice.”—“Great saint, make me fortunate at play; disdain not my prayer; grant that my children may contract opulent marriages, and prosper in the world.”—“Let my daughter espouse the noble Spaniard.”—They uttered other supplications fully as extravagant, and added promises and vows.—“I will give a hundred crowns to the poor, ornaments to my church, a dowry to six unhappy orphans, two wax tapers, and a chaplet of flowers to our lady.”—“I will wear a dark coloured habit,” said one girl; “and I a white,” said another. The first replies, “I am brunette, the violet suits my complexion;” the second, “I am red, the white becomes me best.”

Next to this apartment was that of women and girls who had been lovers, and whose number was very considerable. As the history of their folly was similar, I felt unwilling to listen to it, but traversed their chamber without stopping, and entered into the quarter of the poets, to have the satisfaction of beholding the great geniuses of antiquity. There I was much surprised to find Homer, sitting in the midst of the Grecian poets, and reading his own _Iliad_, he who had been so blind during his life. I was tempted to ask him some questions respecting his works, and had an idea he would reply in verse. With this view I walked round the circle that was formed, and spoke in these terms to the prince of poets:—“O, illustrious Homer! light of the universe! author of the most sublime fictions! the beauty and price of thy writings surpass the grandeur of the king of Spain, the wisdom of Charlemagne, the abundance of Ceres, the girdle of the Graces, the tenderness of Venus, the delicacies of Bacchus, the brightness of Aurora, the height of heaven, the depth of hell, the vastidity of the ocean, and the variety of the world, a Spaniard who wants neither spirit nor courage, of Quevedo, demands of thee if the victory thou hast attributed to the Greeks before Troy truly belongs to them; and if Paris, that tender lover, actually in vain took so much trouble to carry off their chaste Helen.”

Homer, rubbing his eyes, answered me thus:—“Here there must needs be sincerity and truth; for we pay dearly for the boldness and obloquy, that weak mortals admire: our torments are eternal. I never was in Ionia: I passed my life in Greece; to honour this nation I sacked Troy; a city strong, rich, fortunate, and always victorious, and that was finally destroyed by an earthquake. Helen, to whom I have accorded the honours of fidelity, was the least scrupulous of all our frail damsels. Leave me to relent over what hath charmed all the poets of the world. Go from this place, and tell mortals you found me reading, against my inclination, those works that have attained the universal suffrage.”

His discourse affected me. I pitied this old man, who wept upon reading his poems; but I reflected that he had invented all those fabulous incidents, to which both pagans and Christians are equally attached. Homer, this genius who knew how to assume so many changes, had he need to endow with heavenly powers, those brave men whom he sent to the siege of Troy? he might have created heroes, without making them gods: to be sure, it is always permitted to poets to feign and magnify their subjects; or, in other words, the subjects thus aggrandised and exalted to heaven have no sublimity but in poesy and upon paper, like the figures that painters trace on canvass, or sculptors upon marble. How could the Greeks mistake and worship gods who had such an origin? however the thing has happened, Homer is the cause, and now mourns over his poetry and himself; he has for companions in misery, his disciples and imitators. Ought this not to serve as a lesson to living poets, who, abusing their talents, compose and read seductive works, causing those who think themselves in a condition to do the like, to lose their time, and often corrupting the heart in recreating the mind.

From this chamber I passed into that of the Latin poets. Ovid and Virgil there disputed the throne. Horace chafed that he was not admitted into the contest, and Martial revenged himself upon them by a piquant epigram. Horace protested against the whole proceeding of the two first; he demanded arbitrators, and nominated on his own behalf Scaliger, who has declared that he would rather have been the author of the ninth ode, than the possessor of the crown of Arragon; but they would not notice him. The other poets espoused the party that suited them best: many declared for Seneca the tragedian, for Terence, and Plautus. These last, read in a corner of the chamber the finest passages of their compositions. They now began to talk of settling the dispute with blows: fearing, therefore, that I might get an unlucky hit in the mêlée, I left the place, and passed hastily into the chambers of the Spaniards, Italians, French, English, Turkish, Chinese, and Persian. I noticed the ancient Gaulish poets, crowned with misletoe of the oak, making processions, and singing the histories of their first kings.

“Here, upon this side,” said Curiosity to me, “is a chamber of perfumers; they have fine scents for the gratification of the damned; but you would hardly be able to bear them.”

“I will take,” said I, “a pinch of snuff.”

I drew forth my box, helped myself, and offered it to my devil; he filled his nose, but from the titilation he felt in his olfactories, he withdrew his fingers, when he began to sneeze in such a manner, and with such a noise, that hell itself seemed sinking under us, he belched forth fire from his nose, as lightning flashes from a cloud; he put his fore-finger to it, and there issued forth a rivulet of liquid sulphur, which uniting with his saliva, formed a torrent of boiling water, that flowed across the chamber, and passed through the doors and windows; without that I believe I should have been drowned. These waters fell upon people underneath, who began to call for help, thinking a river of melted sulphur and pitch fell upon them. The devil laughed heartily at this disorder, and told me my snuff was excellent: he asked for another pinch; I did not dare to refuse him, because he was in his own house; and such a refusal might, perhaps, have made him regard me as impolite. But this time, when I put my fingers into the box, the powder took fire as if it had been saltpetre, and burnt in my hands, at which accident I was not sorry, being apprehensive of another disorder, similar to the first.

We then entered the chamber of the perfumers: they were occupied in extracting essences of intolerable odours, which are as agreeable to them as jessamine, tuberose, orange, and others in use among the men and women of our world: they made these essences from the oil of the box tree, from wax, jet, and yellow amber. Their pomatums were composed of galbanum, assafœtida, rosin, pitch, and turpentine. I was informed that these were for the use of the ladies of hell, who were served by the perfumers, and who were, at the same time, obliged to use their compounds, in obedience to the laws of Lucifer.

From thence, we proceeded along a broad aisle, which terminated at an elevated pavilion, the apartment of the astrologers and magicians. I met at the door a chiromancer, who desired to inspect my hand. I extended it without ceremony; but scarcely had I touched his, before I was glad to withdraw it, it seemed so hot and fiery.

“I have remarked at a glance,” said he, “that you will be happy if you are prudent.”

“And you,” said I, “what have you noticed with regard to your own?”

“I knew,” replied he, “by the mount of Saturn, that I was to be damned.”

“Ah, well! if you had exercised the prudence you recommend to me, you would not have been here.”

I passed without further speech, and saw a man, who, with compasses, measured upon a globe, the distances between the celestial signs: “what are you doing, good man?” said I.

“Ah, God!” replied he, “if I had been born but half an hour sooner, when Saturn changed his aspect, and Mars lodged in the house of life, my salvation had been certain.”

The others made similar observations, so that one could hardly forbear laughing at their complaints. There came up one named Taisnerius, author of a book upon physiognomy and chiromancy, who gazed in my face for such a length of time, that he quite embarrassed me.

“You look like an old burnt shoe,” said I to him; “go your ways; do not stop so near me.”

“Look at this beggar,” said he; “see how he affects the man of consequence, because he wears a sword by his side, and hath the cross of Saint James! What a physiognomy! What an aspect! What a figure! This man goes straight to the gibbet: besides, there is here neither wealth nor rank; all are equal.”

“Insolent fellow,” said I; “if I draw my sword, I will teach you how to speak to a man of honour; have you not had experience enough to be wise? you ought to bear in mind the correction you received in Portugal, for treating a gentleman in the same indecorous manner you have me; but you are incorrigible.”

“Taisnerius,” said my devil, “get into your hole, and draw your own horoscope.”

After this trifling dispute, we advanced, and encountered many astrologers, among whom were Hali, Gerard of Cremona, Barthelemi of Parma, a certain personage by the name of Tondin, and Cornelius Agrippa. The moment this last perceived me, he cried out that “the world did him injustice, in calling him Agrippa the black—in accusing him of magic, and other similar things, for which, he averred, he had not been damned: that he was born in an age of ignorance, when good physicians passed for magicians, astrologers for sorcerers, and all learned men for people who had converse with the devil; that his book upon the Cabala, was nothing more but a satire upon the cabalistic art of the Jews, and the little key of Solomon; and finally, the book itself might be taken as a criterion of his faith, in those things by which they deceived the simple, and of the vanity of that science. I am no more a magician,” continued he, “than Cardan, whom you can see if you wish.”

“Why then have you been damned?”

“Because I abused my knowledge, and amused myself with people’s credulity; if I had indeed been a magician, I should have become penitent, and been saved.”

While I was speaking, I heard a tremendous uproar, proceeding from another apartment, and inquiring the cause, was informed the Turks were fighting; and as I happened to understand their language, discovered the quarrel was, in fact, between Mahomet and the two prophets, who had each established a sect in the Mahometan law. Mahomet complained very bitterly against Ali, because he had given to the Persians a false Alcoran, and because Albubekir had so illy explained his own, in Africa. He, on the contrary, maintained that the Alcoran could have no other meaning, than what he had attached to it. Ali asserted, there was no reason in this law; and furthermore, he contended, that Mahomet himself knew nothing about the book he had composed. They chafed furiously upon this, and cried out, as if enraged to madness; I heard their dialogue, but do not wish to be the herald of their quarrels. This was gentleness itself, compared with what passed among the heretic and schismatic Christians; there I saw Luther in the habit of the Augustine order, with his monks about him, and a pot of wine on the table. “Do the dead drink,” said I, “to the devil?”

“Not at all; but this wine is set before their eyes, for the purpose of tormenting them with the sight of what they loved so well; it is for the same reason, that Luther has his wife with him.”

Melancthon was also there; he wept continually, and was so unquiet, that he could not remain an instant at rest: he traversed from right to left upon all sides, and then returned to the place from whence he set out, only to recommence the same journey. “What is this man doing?” said I to Curiosity.

“He imitates the conduct he pursued in the world; for there he was alternately with Luther and the church; sometimes a Zuinglian, and sometimes a Calvinist; thus are the inconstant tormented. This good old man whom you see here, is Erasmus; this other is Grotius; unhappily, they neither of them had any religion. This man, who appears so sour, and is surrounded with ministers, is Calvin, who brought about the reformation. These others, are heretics of the first ages, who are here for being reluctant to submit to legitimate authority. See the great Photius patriarch of Constantinople, how the Greeks surround him: he is justly punished for having quitted the ministry for the patriarchate; if he had remained in a civil station he would have been saved; but being mixed up in ecclesiastical affairs, he committed so much wickedness, that he now suffers no more than he deserves.”

“A man so learned!” said I to the devil.

“Yes, too much so; and too much knowledge is often more injurious than profitable.”

I began now to tire of hell, and fatigued with my walk, intimated a desire to my conductor to depart, and to be accompanied by him as far as the gate. He replied, he wished first to show me the apartment of the contractors, whom I had not yet seen, and which was upon a line with that in which we were. I then entered into the chambers of these farmers of the revenue, and was surprised to see such a multitude, each habited in the garb of his own country. “There are here, then,” said I, “people from all quarters of the globe.”

“Yes,” replied the devil, “since there are every where imposts.”

“But why,” demanded I, “are these people damned, who have levied the lawful tribute of legitimate princes? I have read in the scripture that it is lawful to pay tribute unto Cæsar: how shall this tribute be paid, unless there are people to collect it? must one be damned for doing a duty?”

“Hold, hold,” cried the demon; “not quite so much philosophy; these contractors were full as philosophical as you are; but it is nevertheless true, if they had only levied the tribute due to their prince, they would not have been damned; but they raised one not due, either to the prince or to themselves: they would have been much better off, had they not made so much expense, and the prince had given them but a shilling for a pound. Calculate, for a moment, what an enormous sum is requisite, for the compensation of the host of subalterns attached to an office; consider then, how much the principal must gain; add to that, what goes into the coffers of the king, without mentioning what is styled the _perquisites_, and you will find that not more than one per cent of the ducats are realized at the treasury; and that, he who gets the most, is doubtless the farmer. If the king of Spain would oblige them to send straight to him the custom on exports and imports, he would profit by that the contractors get. There needs but one commissary, for all the revenues of the king, in each office; he should supervise all the books and accounts, contenting himself with a generous salary for his care, punishing frauds by pecuniary fines, and by corporeal inflictions for second offences. If the matter was thus managed, the king would be richer, and taxes less; the people would be less burthened, and almost all this great number of contractors, would remain in commerce, in the army, or country. How much should you say,” demanded the devil, “the king received, of what is annually taken from the royal mines?”

“About three quarters,” replied I.

“He would be too well off,” exclaimed he, with a cry of admiration; “he does not get the thousandth part; all goes in outfits, in expenses; and I verily believe, that if these things are to continue thus, the king would gain more by closing them, than in causing them to be worked.”

“At present,” said I, “there is a necessity of levying imposts, of having contractors, and paying them well: the neighbouring princes do the same, to furnish their charges and expenses of war: if this is an evil, it is one that must be endured, to preserve the whole body politic from destruction. But how is it possible, you can so vehemently dislike the gentlemen of the revenue, who form by far the largest part of your infernal population?”

“It is the force of reason,” answered he, “that compels even demons to avow the truth, and both to love and detest the wickedness we are desirous of detecting in others, to make them companions of our misery.”

“I admire,” said I, “the force of truth; and I admire not less to see injustice hated, even among the unjust; but I cannot comprehend, why you should say, that however legitimate the tribute due to the prince, the contractors cannot conscientiously take the public money.”

“You misapprehend me; that they can do; but the farmers collect more money than is consistent with equity, or the orders of the prince; they extort that which should be useful for the maintenance of the public weal: it is of this charge, of this waste, the contractors are guilty.”

“I understand you,” said I to the demon; “but conduct me from hence, for I am weary.”

He continued:—“Do you comprehend what I say, that it is the contractors who are most happy and rich? and from whence come those superb mansions, as magnificently furnished as the Escurial palace? how can they support such enormous expenses? entertain so many gentlemen? give their daughters such ample dowries? contract advantageous alliances with the noblest families of Castile and Arragon? Such an one shall command to-day, and be covered in the king’s presence, who a year since drove a chariot, or stood behind a carriage. Another, who hired his land, shall presently purchase the farm he formerly cultivated. Appointed a subaltern in one of the offices, he soon becomes its head, and is elevated by degrees to the nobility.”

The demon having finished, I thanked him, and wishing to impress the lesson on my memory, engaged him to repeat it. He summed up the whole in the following manner:—“Observe neither what reason or the law prescribes to thee, respect neither God nor the king, lay the peasantry under contribution, succumb to the great, become a great proprietary farmer, cause the purchaser to pay you twice for what you sell: to put out of sight the baseness of your origin, obtain an appointment in one of the bureaux, and accustom yourself to command; for by these gradations one may arrive at the highest dignities.”

“What signifies all that,” said one of the contractors, who listened to our discourse; “is it not natural for a person to elevate himself if he can? Is it not the order of Providence, that the lofty should be abased, and the humble exalted? Fortune is but a wheel, which in its revolutions puts underneath what but now was on top. If the subjects were more attached to the government, the sovereign would have less need of imposts, and consequently of collectors. If they were perfectly just, they would not need a king. To complain of our avarice is to accuse heaven; instead of which only the impenetrability of individuals should be reproached, who would rather see a great kingdom like Spain entirely overthrown, than advance a single real to repair the slightest breach. Know, Signor Devil, who has delivered such a philippic against the contractors, that we have been to our country, what the bones and muscles are to the human body, or numerous armies to a province threatened with an invasion: if the king of hell would but consult with us, we should teach him to fortify his dominions in such a manner, that they would be impregnable to both saints and angels. In the first place, I would lay a tax upon every demon who plies his occupation in the world: secondly, I would establish a daily employment for each soul in the infernal world: thirdly, I would make the magicians and sorcerers pay an annual tribute: this will be done, for I have heard the king of the demons was about to organise a council of financiers; and this is a subject that might well engage even the attention of that celebrated Englishman, who invented the first paper currency of England.”

“And wherefore,” said the demon, “impose a tax on us? What will you do when we refuse to pay? Can you confiscate our estates? In what prisons will you confine us when you have decreed our arrest? We should mock at all your projects: ah, little man! you grow licentious! you must be chained up; come, obey; extend your hands and legs.”

“I shall do neither the one nor the other,” said the contractor; “you are not here our master; I will call the financial council together; and I am going this instant to denounce you to the grand inquisition, because you resist paying tribute to the king of Spain.”

“I laugh at your inquisition,” said the demon, “and to be beforehand with you, I will denounce you to the prince of devils himself: come, quick, obey; extend your hands and legs.”

The contractor found himself loaded with irons, in spite of his remonstrances: the devil then went into the apartment of the inquisitors to subject them to the same treatment, and afterwards returned to accompany me to the gate, as I had requested.

“These insolents,” muttered he, “these insects! what pride! what rodomontades! was there ever seen such supercilious knaves? But I will humble them in such a manner, and make them suffer so much, that they will have no stomach to talk of imposts and taxes.”

When we had left these contractors, (whom I regard as the most unhappy class in hell, because, let them do ever so much good to the prince or to the state, let them be ever so upright in their administration, nay, even if they were angels, they could not escape accusation and hatred) our attention was attracted by an immense crowd, which had arrived and filled up the avenue in such a manner, that we could not pass, and so were obliged to fall back to the opposite gate. “Who are these people?” inquired I of the demon.

“They are,” replied he, “a corps of tailors; they arrive here in crowds, like great armies, and when they come, all the demons are put in requisition to confine them; my duty compels me to assist; go with me, and amuse yourself with our proceedings.”

We made our way through this crowd of tailors, and arrived at length, before a great furnace, the mouth of which was more than ten fathoms in diameter. There they bound these tailors in faggots, putting from ten to a dozen in each bundle: they fastened each one by the feet, and then brought a rope about the whole package, and afterwards suspending the faggot to a hook, which was elevated by means of a pulley, over the centre of the furnace, a devil detached it, and let it fall into the fire. Sometimes the tailors who had their arms free, grasped so firmly the pulley, that the devil had an infinite deal of trouble to loose their hold: when that took place, he caused the whole mass to make a pirouette in the air, and as the motion was violent, the tailors were always forced to let go, and drop into the fire. It happened that one of these faggots fell outside the aperture, upon a quantity of others, which were ranged like a pile of wood, and which the devil measured. The individuals of this faggot, seized hold of the others in such a manner, that they could not separate them; so that the devils who united their strength for that purpose, were obliged to take the whole pile, attach it to the hook, and let it all go together. The mass was so great, that it seemed as if it would choke the fire of hell. The devils bestirred themselves, and finally made an end of the tailors; they then cast in a great quantity of oil, tallow, and sulphur, and stirring them up with long iron tormentors, and employing large bellows, the fire caught all at once, and raised a flame, that rose above the mouth of the furnace more than three hundred feet. All the tailors having been cast into the fire, their demon general, with a haughty and severe air, came to demand of me, why I had not been bound with the others.

“Because,” said I to him, “I am not a tailor, a rogue, a thief, neither a cabbager of stuff nor money; I am here with my companion, Curiosity, to inspect the beauties and antiquities of this country.”

“You are a liar,” replied the general; “you are one of my subjects; I know you by your strait-cut dress, which, without doubt, you have made out of the clippings of some other; come, obey; cast yourself into the fire, or I will throw you in.”

As he was about to bind me, my demon informed the general that I was not yet dead; that I had never been of any trade, and that he believed I should not be one of their subjects, because those who descended quick into hell, conducted themselves afterwards in such a manner, as not to revisit it after death; furthermore, the cross of Saint James, (which I carried,) would inspire fear, and cause false alarms in the bosoms of the damned.

“Come hither, then,” said the general, “and profit by what you see; you know, at least, that tailors are the fuel of hell, and serve to burn those that come hither.”

My demon advised me to go promptly, because if the general should get angry, he might do me a mischief. In walking along, he informed me the unhappy tailors were so numerous, that they not only fed the great furnace of hell, which warmed all the apartments, but also furnished the table of Lucifer, when he had a mind to feast.

“How!” exclaimed I, “Lucifer eat? Can spirits eat?”

“Do you not know,” replied he, “that the damned are as the herb the sheep eateth, and that death is this sheep? Have you not read in your sacred books, that death devoureth the damned? _Mors depascet eos_.”

While he was speaking, we met a troop of booksellers, at whose head was one Peter Marteau, a publisher, of Cologne; he was loaded with a burden so unwieldy, that it was impossible to comprehend how any one man could bear it. They informed me, these were the books printed under his name, after his death. The booksellers of Holland were also very heavily laden; and those of France bore also the books struck off at their houses, with the title of a Dutch bookseller. These people were carrying their books to the furnace, but were prevented by a singular accident: a demon, who passed by with a flambeau, approaching to look at them, their papers caught fire, and instantly spread from one to another through the whole body: when they perceived the flame, they threw down their loads, and fled with all convenient speed. I asked them why they were damned: they answered, for the faults of others.

“An author,” observed they, “often carries a work to the printer, which has no merit, and besides, as unsaleable as a girl, ugly and poor: by this means the printer is ruined; in vain he curses the author, and seeks to reimburse himself by the sale of an unpopular book; this book is the cause of his failure; his creditors seize his goods and shop; he maddens, and resigns himself to despair. A translator, who understands Greek, undertakes a dull work; sometimes he supposes he has discovered a manuscript; he carries his translation to the printer, who, not being able to get rid of it, sells the leaves to the grocer or butter woman. Another cause of our damnation; a bookseller sells at a handsome profit, the _satires_ of Juvenal, the _comedies_ of Terence, and of other poets, as those of Virgil and Ovid; a lackey, a shop-boy, a soldier, a clerk, purchase these works, and amuse themselves among serving girls, with what cost long study to these men of genius. Without mentioning other books we vend, and which obtain circulation, only because they flatter the taste or passions of the buyer, is it not true, that a pretty story of gallantry, secret memoirs, cabinet intrigues, which profess to expose the designs of the government, or the end of some great affair, are the most dangerous books? and these are the kind we sell best. Is it us, then, upon whom reproach ought to fall, or on the readers?”

“He speaks advisedly,” said a Holland publisher; “we have put to press all the follies of certain authors, who wished to revenge themselves, either upon a mistress, judge, minister of state, or prince; and for this we must needs be adjudged guilty of other’s faults, and share their punishment! but that would have been slight, if we had not meddled with books of religion. We have published in Holland the works of all parties; Christians, Jews, Catholics, Protestants, Socinians, Quakers, and every other sect; and often in the same book, sold both sides of the controversy.”

“You have then,” said I, “no religion!”

“We are,” replied the Dutchman, “the historians of authors; and as a historian must have neither relations, country, friends, nor religion, even so we have none of these; but under the name of citizens of the world, have but one object, and that, the advancement of our own interests.”

Immediately upon these words, he hastily fled with the others, to re-assemble themselves near the demon of the book merchants, who called for his whole crew. I felt great compassion at the fate of these unhappy wretches, condemned to hell, because they were brought up to the profession of publishing the dreams and extravagances of authors: it is worthy also of reflection, that they are compelled to consult the taste of the age, and of the multitude. Now the taste of the age is exceedingly fickle: it is not that of learned men and wits; books of morality and criticism are purchased much less readily than novels and profane histories; so that book merchants, in their condition, have an unhappiness that attaches itself to no other trade, independently of the fact, that this business is not held in the same estimation at the present day, that it formerly was. They were then ranked with men of letters; they were admitted to the bar and church; the cardinal Ximenes bestowed on them great preferments; he ennobled him who published the famous _Bible d’arrias montars_. We see, in his time, publishers who possessed rich abbeys and seats in the council. And what was not done for them by the fifth Sixtus, that incomparable genius? In France, they arrived at great distinction, and have been seen in the first posts of the principal cities of the kingdom; and we know that a celebrated emperor of Germany, was one of the first publishers, if not himself the inventor of printing. But to return from this digression: when the book merchants were re-assembled, the notaries, who had just arrived, wished to place themselves in their ranks; but the devil used his authority to separate them, averring that there was, in fact, a vast difference.

“Without doubt,” said the notaries, “we are the book merchants of manuscripts; we compose and publish our works, to which the public accord the same faith, as to things they have themselves seen; we are faithful public witnesses, the guarantees of contracts, promises, and obligations; the guardians of titles, rights, and privileges; our testimony is true, infallible; above suspicion, deceit, and fraud.”

“Why,” said the devil, “are you come to hell? for if you fulfilled those duties, you are honest people, and I declare, not only useful, but necessary to the public; for, between ourselves, there is so little public sincerity, that if one could not prove, by writings and witnesses, the price at which he bought or sold, he would often find himself cheated of his money.”

“It is,” said one of the notaries, “for some antedates or superfluous ciphers, that we are damned; judge you, if the matter is of such vital consequence; one is so often deceived by writings, and one figure is so easily substituted for another;—the pen too, slips sometimes, and a nought is so easily made!”

“You are right, in truth,” said the devil, addressing himself to me; “they wrong these poor people, in sending them to us; they have committed trifling faults, while they do not punish the apothecaries, even, for putting up the recipes sent them. I have a great mind to send these unfortunate persons home again.—Go; return, my friends; you have suffered great injustice.”

“And we also,” said the corps of bankrupts; for they had done them the honour to separate them from the merchants, who had dealt honestly.

“As to you, Signors,” said the devil, “enter into the furnace, without further examination: we leave it to the notaries to enter at pleasure; they have within them a torment as cruel as fire; it is conscience, that never yet respected any person.”

“Oh, oh! ah, ah!” cried the bankrupts, “if they had not wronged us, we should have kept our faith with every one: would you, because we were cheated, that we should send our families to the almshouse?”

“I did not go to Holland, or to the islands, when I failed,” said one; “I shut myself up in a private room in my house, and there negotiated, through my wife, with my creditors, making each one to remit a part of his just claims: you know what would have happened, had I appeared; there is seldom much charity among creditors.”

“I,” said another, “did much better; for I transported from Madrid to Venice all the merchandises I had collected, changed my name, and after having made a fortune upon these goods, paid the principal, on condition they would remit the interest: was there not in this bankruptcy, good faith, justice, and prudence?”

“Yes,” replied the devil, “and I cannot conceive on what grounds you were condemned; it is very evident it must have been for something else.”

“No,” continued the man, “it was for this very thing; because they pretend that for these twenty years, I have injured my creditors, in depriving them of the enjoyment and possession of their property; consider, Signor devil, if I am under an obligation to repair this damage? would it not only be ridiculous, but render them guilty of usury towards me.”

“Ah! the honest man,” said the devil; “why do they send to us folks so upright and sincere? but my friend,” continued he, “you have the ill luck to be found in bad company; we cannot help you; arm yourself, therefore, with courage, and prepare to support the sufferings to which the bankrupts are destined; you will be forced to accustom yourself to much pain; but console yourself, by uniting your complaints with those of your comrades.”

Directly the devil stamped upon the pavement, where the publishers, notaries, and bankrupts stood, when a trap door, springing open, engulphed them all, and closed itself as before.

At this stage of my dream, I was awakened by a serenade of violins and hautboys, that some one gave to a young lady of the house. I immediately arose, and looking from the window, saw a number of young men, who, after a prelude upon their instruments, began to sing. As there was no window but mine open, they imagined they beheld the beauty to whom their homage was addressed; and to amuse myself at their expense, I threw out a splendid handkerchief, which one of them eagerly caught; he kissed it more than an hundred times; then putting a diamond, worth thirty pistoles, into a purse, threw it into my chamber, with a billet couched in these terms:—

“My charming princess, at night my heart awakes for thee; by day, I am only occupied with your charms. I burn, without cessation, with the love you have inspired; when shall I have the happiness to express to you in private, what I feel, and what your silence causes me to suffer? one sweet line from your hand, shall re-assure and console me. Speak, and nothing can equal my happiness; continue silent, my misery is at its height, and I have no relief, but in death.”

After perusing this billet, I answered it in the following manner, the substance of which was furnished by a song I happened to remember.

“When one reigns, or when one loves, the pain is not without its pleasures; solicitude renders them more vivid. Happy prince! Happy lover! it is not in vain you suffer; they will resist you but slightly, when they themselves suffer from protracted resistance; yes, when one reigns, or when one loves, the pain is not without its pleasures.”

I cast my billet from the window, and it was soon taken up. The adventure seemed to me very pleasant: behold what followed; I deposited in the bed of the fair, the diamond that was designed for her, not being able to keep it longer with honour, and without exposing myself to the anger of the young lady, who would soon know by what window it entered. Upon retiring the next night, she found it; she informed her lover of the discovery, and he explained the whole affair. She thanked me graciously for my gallantry; I gave her the billet I had received, and she returned my handkerchief. The mistake arose from my having lain, that night, in the chamber ordinarily occupied by this young lady, her bed having been removed to that of her father, and on that account was unable, as usual, to answer her gallant. She made me the confidant of her attachment, and besought my good offices with her father, which I so zealously used, that in less than a month, I assisted at the marriage of these lovers.

Those who interpret dreams, say, that the one I had concerning hell, hardly presaged this adventure. I pray those who read my reveries, or nocturnal visions, to consider that they contain more truth, than one would be apt, at first, to imagine: by day they ought to occupy themselves with thoughts upon hell, as intently as they would in the most important affair; or as they would seek the means of deliverance, if shut up in prison, for a crime against the state. One is damned for a less offence than the robbery of the treasury, revolt, or parricide. Yes, for a much slighter fault, one shall be eternally tormented in hell.—Reflect often upon this, dear readers, lest you have it to say, through the interminable ages of futurity, “_I could not have thought it_.”

SEVENTH NIGHT. THE REFORMATION OF HELL.

AS I promenaded one day in my garden, thinking of demons, which are always at the back of every one, the foolish idea struck me, that it would not be wholly useless to reform my life. I felt a curiosity to see my evil demon; but, thought I to myself, if I should see him I believe I should die with fear. No, said I again, I should not be terrified, if he would but show himself in a human shape. After having repressed this improper curiosity, and resumed my composure, I heard a man speaking to me; and turning my eyes to that side from whence the voice proceeded, I perceived, through a grated door, which separated the garden from the park, on the other side, a gentleman of a good mien, who requested me to open the gate, as he wished to have some conversation with me. As he resembled a man with whom I had formerly some misunderstanding, I refused; but he passed over it before I had the power to prevent him. Immediately drawing my sword, I set upon him; and he doing the same, parried my thrusts and stood upon the defensive only. As I perceived that his figure at one moment contracted, and anon dilated to a huge magnitude, I began to suspect that he was either a magician or a demon; and stepping rearward some paces, demanded who he was. He answered that he was my demon, and wished to render me a service.

“I have no need of such service,” said I to him; “for demons are both deceptive and malicious.”

“No, no,” replied he; “fear nothing; only come with me.”

Forthwith he transported me into the air, and I soon lost sight of my house and garden. In a short time we drew near the moon; and while passing, I gazed attentively upon those valleys, mountains, and lakes, which are but imperfectly perceived from the earth by the aid of telescopes. The demon transported me to Sicily and set me down upon the summit of a mountain covered with cinders yet hot, which he told me was Etna. There was, from this place, a very fine prospect; one sees all the beauties of the isle, and of the surrounding seas: in the distance, the highlands of Africa are distinguished, like fleecy clouds, upon the verge of the horizon; a multitude of vessels were sailing in view, which seemed like white ants, or flies, sporting upon the surface of the ocean. After we had rested there about one hour, the demon told me to follow him. We descended into an aperture from whence belched forth smoke and flame that illumined the whole mountain.

“It is here,” said the demon, “that Pliny fell, when he had the temerity to approach too near.”

The whole way, as we proceeded, was composed of rocks and fat earth, like bitumen, and from time to time, might be seen veins of sulphur. The rocks were full of little crevices, from whence issued vapours and sulphurous exhalations, and sometimes slight gusts of wind. When we had travelled downwards about the space of an hour, we came to a vast cavern, into which we entered; at its extremity was an immense palace, hewn in the rock, and elevated upon massive pillars.

“This,” said the demon, “is the palace of Lucifer. Let us enter into the great hall, where we shall see him give a general audience to the damned: listen attentively to what shall be said; examine the events that take place, and let what you shall see serve for your instruction.”

The following is a correct account of what I saw in these subterraneous abodes.—For a long time, Lucifer, the ruler of hell had not given audience to his subjects: the disorder that ordinarily obtain in states from the negligence of princes, are incidental as well among demons as men. The evil spirits remained sometimes for ages in the world, without rendering any account of the souls they had gained, and often suffered themselves to be driven from the tenements of which they were masters; the address of some monk or priest snatching from them their conquest. Men performed in hell the office of demons; and as they frequently left their chains to seek their enemies, battles were as common, as formerly between the Romans and Gauls. Lucifer, either from a fear for his crown, or weariness at seeing so many combats, resolved one day to hear, in general convention, the complaints of the damned; to introduce a reform among the demons; to re-establish the submission and obedience due to his sceptre, and to extend the boundaries of his empire by new conquests: this was very easy of execution, provided he would give access and free parlance to his subjects, and compel his demons to render an exact account of their administrations. With this design he secretly consulted with Belzebub, the prince of devils, Belial, the governor-general of Pagan nations, and Ashtaroth, the princess who commands all women. At the termination of this council, circular letters were published, which ordained that all those who had complaints to prefer, and all the demons scattered over the world, should assemble upon an appointed day in the great hall of the palace, when and where they should be heard.

The day fixed being arrived, the hall was presently filled, and measures taken, that as soon as one party was heard, another should enter. Lucifer was seated upon his golden throne, having upon each side those princes I have before mentioned. After having inveighed against the disorders prevalent in hell, and stated his determination to rectify them, he signified his permission to the standers by to speak. At this intimation there arose an old man of a haughty appearance, and having a crown of laurel upon his head; he read the Roman laws touching parricides, and amplified upon the ingratitude of natural and adopted children towards their parents.

“The parties,” said Belzebub to Lucifer, “must be ordered, before commencing their speeches, to announce their names, because many of them have been dead a great length of time.”

Such a decree was accordingly made; and he who had now spoken about half an hour, said that he was Julius Cæsar, the first emperor of the Romans. “Under the pretext of the liberty of our common country,” continued he, “Brutus and Cassius, to gratify their ambition, assassinated me in the midst of the senate, their enmity was not directed against the empire and monarchy, which were, on the contrary, the object of their desires; but they hated the emperor, who had magnified the Roman power, and extended its dominion both north and east. Was the government better administered in the hands of those senators, who, by their feuds and personal dislikes, perilled the salvation of the republic, by resigning it into the hands of a perpetual dictation, whom they were obliged shortly afterwards to elect? Rome having once tasted the benefits of monarchy, preferred rather to obey a Nero, a Tiberius, a Caligula, or a Heliogabulus, than to re-establish this pretended public liberty, for which Brutus and Cassius, those two traitors, took up arms against the father of their country.”

He continued his discourse in this strain, and concluded by moving, that they should be treated in hell as assassins, public disturbers, and traitors.

Brutus then arose, and with a trembling voice, said: “Senators, you have heard Cæsar; have you not been biassed by his eloquence? But will you forget the services I have rendered? Remember the advice you privately gave me, to encourage the glorious design I had conceived in favour of your liberty? Answer then to Cæsar, that it was by your advice I gave the fatal stab; that if the laws had not been abrogated and violated by the formidable power of tyranny, you would, yourselves, have put him to death under the forms of justice; and that your silence, after the execution of my project, was an evidence of your approbation.”

Cassius, assuming the discourse, said he would not undertake to plead his own cause if Cicero was present.

“I will not,” said Cæsar, “listen to this timid sycophant; this cowardly soul; this selfish orator: when he feared my power, he said, in full senate, that he would be my buckler against enemies, and, at the same time, conspired against my life, and defends the act of Brutus and Cassius. His cupidity was so eager, that for money, he might be bought on the same day to speak upon both sides of a case; and so sober-tongued, that there was not a soldier in the army, who would have bestowed upon his greatest foe one tittle of the scurrility he heaped upon Anthony. You recollect, Signors, his phillipics: he had not the courage to support a change of fortune; and the common cause was abandoned by this patriotic man before he was slain by Anthony.”

“May all such wretches be ever punished in the same manner! and with what can they reproach me? Did I put any senator to death? Did I pillage the commonwealth? Did I not return, by my will, what I had amassed and conserved for her defence? Will they accuse me of tyranny and usurpation? I, who delivered the Romans from the ambition of a Pompey? Will they charge me with cruelty? I, who could not behold without weeping the head of my most inveterate enemy? Yes, I can truly say, that it was grief at the sad fate of Pompey, that invited me to declare war against Egypt. I was desirous of avenging the death of this great man. He would have made himself master of Rome if I had not prevented him; and because I stood forth as the defender of the public liberty, was assassinated as a usurper. What wickedness! What perfidy! What cruelty! The senate recognized every thing I had done, when, after my death, they erected statues, and built me temples. Infernal judge, will you bear with these impious men, who killed him whom the empire delighted to honour?”

Cicero would have spoken, fearing the eloquence of Cæsar, or his vehemency, would impose upon the judges; but Cæsar constantly interrupting him, Lucifer, tired with their clamours and the length of the cause, ordered that the emperor, as a punishment for not having profited by the advice he received on his way to the senate, upon the day of his death, should remain in his present place.

“It was I,” said Cicero, “who caused this information to be sent him.”