FOURTH
NIGHT.
THE COUNTRY AND THE PALACE OF
LOVE.
On the fourth day of January, I had passed the evening in the company of some beautiful and amiable young ladies. Contrary to my usual custom of retiring at an early hour, I sat up late, amusing myself and trifling with these ladies, which brought to my imagination, during sleep, the most delightful images. I fancied I heard a voice, which recited these verses, borrowed by Virgil from Theocritus:
“What phrensy, shepherd has thy soul possess’d?
Thy vineyard lies half prun’d, and half undress’d,
Quench, Corydon, thy long unanswered fire;
Mind what the common wants of life require.
On willow twigs employ thy weaving care;
And find an easier love, though not so fair.”
I am ignorant by what paths I was conducted, but I suddenly found myself in a most delightful country, such as the poets are wont to describe the isle of Cyprus and the gardens of Love; it was bordered by two little rivers, one of which was sweet, and the other bitter water. These waters, conducted by a subterranean canal, united in a great basin of white marble, placed in the middle of a garden. After I had promenaded a little, to admire the beauty of the trees, and respire the perfume of the flowers, I entered into a long and magnificent walk, planted with citrons and oranges: upon each side were arbours, adorned interiorly with paintings and sculpture, and surrounded without by jessamines, laurels, honeysuckles, and other shrubs. At the extremity of this walk, there appeared, in perspective, a large and superb edifice, which was called the Palace of Love. The porticoes were of the Doric order: upon the pedestals, the bases, the columns, the cornices, the friezes, the architraves, and the chapters, were, in half relief, little cupids, who disported themselves in all sorts of gambols. There was written upon the gate in letters of gold upon a black ground, this inscription:—
‘Behold the palace of the happy,
The abode of lovers.’
The custody of the gate was committed to a woman of a nymph like appearance: her name was Beauty. She was tall and well proportioned: her features were regular, and her whole appearance so seducing, that her name seemed to answer her description exactly. Her garments were magnificent, but their transparency permitted the sight of charms that eclipsed the light. The whiteness of the snow would have yielded to the whiteness of her bosom: in a word, she had about her that, I know not what, of enchantment, which no pencil could delineate, or language describe. She made me so gracious a salutation, that I was emboldened to request of her a conductor, to show me the apartments of the palace.
“Address yourself,” said she, “to the Introducer; he is lodged in this wing,” motioning me with her right hand to the left side of the edifice.
I thanked her, and went in quest of the Introducer, who was at the same time the Inspector of this smiling country. I perceived in him an old man with a long beard. He received me with great civility; and having signified to him my desire, he told me that he would himself conduct me to the foot of the throne of the Queen. He girded upon his thigh instead of a sword, along sharp scythe. He took for a cravat, an hour-glass with golden sand; and for a hat, a bonnet of mercury with wings. To do me honour, he preceded me. We entered immediately into the apartment of the girls, which was separate from that of the women who have arrived at maturity. In perambulating these chambers, I saw all these girls singularly occupied: there were some who wept with jealousy against the widows; others were filled with inquietudes, not daring to avow the love with which the other sex had inspired them. “My lover,” said one, “is extremely cold; he is too timid; O that the same privilege of declaring our inclinations was permitted to us, as to the other sex! I would speak a language to him, which he should respond.”
Some of them read or wrote letters; they used a great deal of paper in that business; for in order to say that they would not, they destroyed, recommenced, destroyed again, and recomposed the same lines; they desired that their words should have a double meaning, and that their lovers should understand that, which they had no intention of making them comprehend. Others, placed before their mirrors, studied their gestures, giving expression to their features, endeavouring to put grace into their smile, and gaiety into their laugh. Certain of them, plucked the hair from the chin and eye-brows; others applied plaster to their faces; many of them, to cause paleness and a more interesting appearance in the eyes of their lovers, ate plaster, jet, charcoal, and Spanish wax, contrary to the custom of the French, who diligently avoid those substances that can give them a yellow appearance, as saffron, pepper, salt, and every thing provocative.
From this apartment, I passed into that of the married women. Some of them grieved at the jealousy of their husbands, and others at the avarice of theirs. There were those who caressed their spouses, that they might the more easily deceive them: there were others who concealed money from their knowledge, to purchase finery, or make presents to their gallants: there were others who made vows, and projected pilgrimages, to the end that they might enjoy the company of those whom they could not otherwise see: and others, who spoke continually of the sweetness, of the handsome mein, and good proportions of their confessors. Some there were, who said that there could be no pleasure more consummate, than in revenging ones self upon ones husband; some, also, that the most insupportable torment to a married woman, was to be obliged to answer the caresses of a husband whom she did not love: many, that the pleasantest hour was that passed at the play with a gallant. There were those too among them, who had taken their waiting maids into confidence, and strove to engage them in their interests by every indulgence.
Contiguous to this place, was a spacious pavilion where we found the widows. Some of this class affected austerity and modesty; but others gave themselves up to all sorts of folly. Many were exceedingly joyous, although they were in mourning: many were sad, because black did not become them; many, on the contrary, judged that crape was their chiefest ornament, and that it served best to exhibit the brilliant whiteness of their complexion. The old widows wished to imitate the young, while these sought to improve their time to the best advantage. Those who exhibited the most lassitude, were generally young widows, who waited with impatience for the year of mourning to expire; but others spent their time cursing the memory of their husbands, who had prohibited second nuptials.
I was soon weary of my visit to this apartment; folly and libertinism were not to my taste. My conductor perceiving it, took me by the arm, and said that he would show me the amorous devotees.
“Yet, for all that,” said I, “love and devotion can hardly agree; however, let us see all.”
“Oh, ho,” said Time; “yes, true devotion; but know that it is as rare to see true devotees, as women without love: these same true devotees have at least those with whom they are not much upon their guard, and when they are not observed, cannot resist the seductions of a handsome and assiduous cavalier: in default of that they take their confessor.”
Thus conversing, we entered into the apartment of the devotees. Almost all prayed to God, either for the health or the return of a lover: many to be soon married, or to be always handsome, or for death to rid them of a rival. Some of these women performed their devotions while waiting for their gallants.
As the character of these women had in it nothing agreeable to me, I besought my conductor to lead me to the abodes of the men; the more, because I would hear from thence a concert of instruments; he showed me the entrance into their quarter. I found in the first hall, a great number of fiddlers and pipers, who concerted a serenade for the following night. In the second, I saw men who made their toilets, and arrayed themselves in new garments, of the favourite colours of their mistresses. In the third, were those who prepared to send presents to their fair friends. In the fourth, were lovers who put themselves in attitudes to fight in duel with their rivals. In the fifth, they read novels, or made extracts from them. In the sixth, were the old fellows who were mad for love. In the seventh, were young men sick, and who dared not disclose the causes of their indisposition. In the eighth, married men did that for their mistresses, which the wives did for their gallants. In the ninth, widowers imitated the actions of the widows. In the tenth, in fine, the gentlemen of the church showed themselves more amorous than the men of the world, because they are addicted to less general dissipation, and have fewer opportunities for the gratification of their inclinations.
As I came out of this place, I heard a clock striking with a heavy sound, and reverberating throughout the palace. “What is that?” said I to Opportunity.
“That,” said he, “marks the hour for private conversation and appointments; enter into this large hall; you shall soon see a great deal of the world: wait for me, until I shall return to conduct you out of the palace, for otherwise you will not be able to find your way.”
I went into the hall, in which were a great number of seats. The magnificence of the tapestry, which represented the fabulous metamorphoses, corresponded with the style of the edifice: at the extremity was a throne of ivory, silver, and gold, under a canopy enriched with pearls and precious stones. When the persons of both sexes had entered and sat, a woman of a strange figure, and clad in a very whimsical manner, placed herself upon the throne; they called her Passion. Another woman, whom they called Folly, sat near her, and spake as if she was the queen’s chancellor. Forthwith this princess began to set forth the advantages that had been gained over the empire of Reason, who had been for a long time her enemy. While she was speaking, a stately dame named Jealousy, promenaded through every part of the hall: she inspired some with fear, and made others laugh; at length she came near me, and said—
“It is not without some purpose, you are here and separate from the rest; perhaps you are more fortunate.”
I answered, that “I found myself there without any particular design.”—“Excellent,” replied she, retiring; and from time to time she revisited the place where I was, to see if some girl did not come to join me. As I divined her thoughts, I strove to give her uneasiness; I affected to exhibit the same myself; I looked anxiously from one side to the other, as if I had expected some one. I remarked this woman made the same motions.
When the queen had finished her discourse, many persons presented petitions, which were all forthwith granted. After that, the princess announced to all her votaries, that she granted them the propitious moment, and retired. Immediately each one presented his hand to his partner, and hastened from the hall. Some went into chambers, and others walked about. There was no one but Jealousy remaining in the chamber where I was; she promenaded about the hall, murmuring:—
“I shall see,” said she: “I will watch; I will discover: I will hinder: I will talk: I shall not be inactive. Ah, good,” cried she to me with vivacity; “what do you do here? depart, I wish to close the gate.”
As I expected my guide, I was not willing to go out, lest I might lose myself in this vast edifice. “I wish to wait here for Opportunity,” said I, “who ordered me to remain in this hall, till he should come to rejoin me.”
“Reckon not,” replied she, “upon this old dotard; he will not return; he is gone upon the stream, with the others: believe me; quit this place:” and thus speaking, she took me by the shoulders, and thrust me out.
I walked upon the garden terrace until I saw descend a silken ladder. I immediately thought that this was an invitation made to me, and thinking of nothing but the novelty of the adventure, I ascended. I entered by a window into a chamber, where I saw a man and a young girl sitting at table: they were both surprised at my presence, but especially the young cavalier, who remained immovable: presently recovering himself, and addressing himself to the lady:—
“Ingrate, this is then the manner in which you betray me! you have then certainly two lovers, and perhaps fifty?”
“Me, sir!” said she; “I swear to you I know not this gentleman; assuredly he has made a mistake, in taking my window for that of some other.”
“Yes, yes, he is deceived, but it is in these two particulars; that, in the first place, he thought me gone; and secondly, in taking my ladder, for that you are accustomed to hang out for his accommodation; but he shall repent it.”
Immediately drawing his sword, and taking his dagger in the other hand, he would have stabbed his mistress. I also drew my sword, and put myself before the lady, to guard her from the blows of this madman: he dealt me several lunges, which I parried; I drove him to the window, and as he perceived himself hotly pressed, he sprang out, which gave me immense chagrin. The lady had left the chamber; I sought her in vain, and the agitation of this circumstance awoke me.
I leave it to the consideration of the reader, if this vision is not a faithful image of profane love: this is the beauty that seduces us; this is the time we improve; this is the passion which governs us; this is the jealousy which torments us; this is the hour of temptation: a rendezvous, a private conversation, a walk. This is that violent motion which leads to crime. I leave also to the reader, to make his own reflections upon the occupations of lovers, upon their desire of pleasure, upon their intrigues, upon their pains. I am persuaded that no one can have an idea upon the subject, without disapproving of the wanderings of love. It is not reason which rules in the palace I have traversed: for reason is an enemy whom they attack, whom they disarm, whom they put far from them, although she is but a kind friend, who never takes up arms but to succour us.
FIFTH
NIGHT.
THE WORLD.
If a man of genius, or one only of ordinary discernment, could view the interior of the world, he would feel indignant at himself even for living with so much degradation; he could not prevent himself from pitying or despising those who are attached to it, and who allow themselves to be deceived by its seductions and artifices. There is hardly a person who speaks as he thinks; one never sees the intention of the actor; honesty and knavery have often an air of resemblance; truth and hypocrisy appear like sisters of the same father; civility and curiosity assume the same colours; friendship and interest are with difficulty distinguished.
These reflections occurred to me while walking in my garden; I entered into a summer house, favourable for meditation, and inclined to slumber by the coolness of the shade, and the murmur of a neighbouring rill, fell asleep. During my repose, I fancied myself in the midst of a great city, called Hypocrisy. They informed me that it was the capital of the internal world, and bore the same relation to it, that Rome did to the external world, in the time of the emperors. It was here the king of the internal world usually resided; he was called Self Love; and although he had this appellation, which is, for the most part, in rather bad odour, he was dear to his subjects, who made it their chiefest glory to imitate him, and had no other object than the honour of their sovereign. The two principal ministers of this king, were Interest and Ambition: the governor of the city was Pleasure. The guards of his majesty were designated by the names of other human passions; the gentlemen of his court were lackeys, well accoutred; the farmers of the revenue called themselves ministers of finance: the lawyers, counsellors of the king: the thieves, judges of police: the grooms of the stable, equeries of the king: the mountebanks, physicians: the bankers, masters of accounts: the clerks of the church, abbots: the clerks of the palace, secretaries: the students, doctors. There, tailors wear velvet and gold lace; coblers are cordwainers to the king; gaming houses, academies: discreditable places, houses of good society: pimps, convenient people: coquettes, ladies of honour: women of pleasure, devotees: black girls, handsome brunettes: in fine, coquetry is friendship: usury, economy: deceit, wisdom, or prudence: malice, wit: cowardice, equanimity of temper: temerity, valour: parasites are amiable people: slanderers, free people: and in like manner of others; for in this country we perceive every thing to be contrary to that we see in the external world.
As I promenaded the streets of this city, I met an old man, who inquired of me if I was a stranger.
“Yes, I am,” said I.
“That is very apparent, from the surprise you testify at the novelties of this city; but if you choose, I will show you things that will astonish you much more: come into my house.”
Having accepted this courteous invitation, he preceded me without ceremony, observing, that this was the custom in France.
“Oh, signor,” said I, “it is no more than justice, that you should be free in your own house; and I know that it is the French humour, not to accord precedence upon such occasions: because he who first enters, escapes closing the gate upon the inside.”
We found in the chamber of this old man, two young friars, preparing to go abroad. They assured us, they could not remain any longer, because their superior had ordered them to be present at a funeral procession, to get their wax taper, and customary gratuity.
“What admirable charity in these people,” said I, “who go to a funeral, not to pray, but to gain.”
Soon after, hearing a chanting, we looked from the window to learn the cause. We saw a funeral procession, in which were arranged many priests and religious, with a long file of relations. It was a woman whom they carried to the grave; the husband was almost mad; and I said to my old friend, “My God! this man is extremely afflicted!”
“Do you believe that?” answered he: “listen to what he says, when he arrives opposite.”
In fact, when he came near the house, I heard him say, “I am not so very unhappy after all! she has wasted the half of my fortune: she has been sick in bed at my expense these last six months; and her obsequies will cost me a thousand crowns! Ah, Lord!” cried he in a loud voice, “why is she dead? and why did you not take me first? or rather, good Lord, why did you not take her before she had dissipated my money?” At length, reverting to a more pleasant theme, “I must,” said he, “marry Lucilla: she having been a serving girl, will not be fond of ostentation; she knows nothing about luxuries, since she cannot even read. To be sure, being young and inexperienced, she made a misstep; but the remembrance of her fault will make her wary. Of the two maids my wife kept, I shall discharge one; so in three or four years I shall save the expense of this burial.” “I gain by this chance,” said a relation of the deceased, who came next: “I gain ten thousand crowns, because she died intestate.” “This pest of a woman,” said a maid servant who followed, “never failed to take advantage of every opportunity, and yet entertained an extreme jealousy of my master and me.”
“Zounds!” said I to the old man, “these people are very sincere!”
“The things you see here,” observed he, “are those which are concealed in the external world; but if now, you have any curiosity to know with what occupations widows beguile the time, after the death of their husbands, step with me a couple of paces and you shall see.”
I directly consented; the object appearing well worth the trouble. There was at the distance of three or four doors from this chamber a grand apartment, the entrance of which was hung with black, and the stair-case covered with the same material. We went in, and after traversing a long hall, garnished in the same manner, entered into a little room, the tapestry of which was black velvet; the bed of beautiful red damask, covered with black crape, with silver fringe. In it reposed a young lady of the most conspicuous loveliness, one of the fairest I have ever beheld. I offered her my condolences upon the death of her husband, whom my old friend had informed me was a gentleman of the sword, and a loyal subject of the king—Self-love. She answered, smiling in the most affable manner, that she was highly sensible of my politeness, and that she felt very happy that the death of her husband had procured her the pleasure of my acquaintance.
“Oh!” exclaimed I, to myself, “what affliction! but let us examine a little farther.”
I approached the bed, and sat down upon a sofa near by: we conversed upon many things indifferently, and at length came upon the adventures of young widows. At this period of the conversation, raising herself up to take her handkerchief, she exposed to my view, with a beautiful shoulder, a neck fairer than moonlight. Just as this sight had inspired me with love, I heard a man snore, who was upon the other side of the bed. She drew the curtain, and gave the gallant a slight cuff, saying, “you are very impertinent to sleep thus near a lady in bed.” The other awaking, was going to revenge himself upon the lady for her slight buffet.
“No, no,” said I, “do not; I should rather be punished myself.”
Both of them then began to turn their raillery upon me. Perceiving this, I left the chamber, beckoning the old man to follow. I was greatly scandalized at such conduct, and my companion did nothing but laugh. What people you have here! amiable widows!
Some hours afterwards, I accidentally met in the street, the beau whom I parted with at the widow’s.
“It is thus,” said this man, accosting me, “that widows console themselves, and redeem the time they may have lost with a cross, jealous, or avaricious husband.”
“You understand these matters well,” answered I; “and madam will soon forget her loss.”
Conferring thus together, we became familiar: he was anxious to learn my name, and told me his own, which was Joy.
“I am not astonished,” said I, “the beauty listened to you. A quarter of an hour spent in your society, will abundantly recompense her for the sad and weary years passed with a jealous spouse.”
When the old man saw us thus pleased with each other, he said he would leave me in the company of this honest person, and that he should expect me at his house to supper, after the play, to which we had determined to go.
At the theatre we saw comedies about equivalent to our tragedies; and, in fact, of so close a resemblance, that one might almost fancy them the same. The story of the one I saw was this:—Two young persons met at the house of a mutual friend, to concert measures to gain the consent of their parents to their marriage: their degree was not equal; the girl was nobly born, and an heiress; the young man poor, and the son of a merchant. They both promised to put in requisition every possible method that could be devised, to vanquish the opposition of the old folks upon whom they depended. The young man said he would make himself an advocate, and afterwards a counsellor in parliament; the expence of which he could easily defray in one year after his marriage, with the help of his wife’s dowry. The girl, on her part, promised not to refuse him any token of affection; and agreeable to their plan, she was to inform her mother, that she was pregnant by Signor Virodeno; for thus was her lover called. In order to the furtherance of this design, they instigated their friend to pretend to betray them, and to apprise the parents of both parties of what was passing. The parents hastened to the spot; the lovers came promptly from the chamber; they both heaped reproaches upon their daughter, and as the mother was about to strike her, she declared herself pregnant. “Unhappy wretch,” exclaimed her mother, “you will always be a grief to me; you will bring dishonour upon the family: I will strangle you on the spot.” “Stop,” said her husband, “you will only expose yourself to be hanged: we must think rather now to conceal this disgrace.” “No, no,” said the mother; “let me stab her to death with this knife.” She would have executed her resolution, had not her more discreet husband disarmed her, saying, “recollect yourself, madam; you were in the same situation when I married you; and if your mother had killed you, you would not to-day have made all this uproar.” But as she continued to give way to fresh paroxysms of indignation, her husband enforced his reasons with some wholesome correction. He subsequently conferred with the parents of the lover, who promised to do every thing for the advancement of their son, in consideration of the rank of the young lady’s family, with whom they would not be at variance. The company then gave a loose to mirth; they found out the young couple were well matched; they busied themselves in preparations for the nuptials, and sent to apprise the young man, who had taken refuge at the house of the governor of the city. He came, accompanied by the proper officers; the marriage was celebrated; nothing was wanting at the feast, and they parted on the best of terms. All this scene was in such perfect keeping, that the young espoused were married at the house of the maternal father-in-law, who himself did the honours of friendship. Thus they conclude marriages and other matters: so that there, one can see the minds of people, and the purpose of every man’s action.
At the palace it is the same; every thing is laid open; the advocates plead not, but pro honorario; the solicitors think of nothing but prolonging the suits by those incidents they themselves devise; and the judges, for the purpose of enhancing their fees, deliver a hundred judgments, when one would answer. As a specimen of their method, take the following decree:
“Having taken into consideration the petition of Signor Thief, solicitor to the lord Stupid, the court do order, that the parties have day in court, for the space of four years, that the fees may absorb the sum of three hundred pounds, which must be expended in this suit. Done at our court of the palace of hypocrisy, at the winter term of the current year. Pecunia, President.”
What I have related of the palace, is to exemplify the spirit that reigns in this city; the same influence governs the court, the army, the treasury, and the theatre. There were in a box adjoining ours, at the latter place, two men, who discoursed concerning the sale of certain merchandize. The seller said, “I wish you to give fifty thousand livres, for what cost me thirty; but I wish to make a thousand crowns profit.” The other was not willing to give more than a hundred pistoles. At last they agreed upon the thousand crowns, upon condition that the seller, who was a steward, should give to the purchaser the titles to the rents of certain farms, without the knowledge of his lord, and upon which event the purchaser was also to give a feast. After the play, I went to seek my old friend; upon meeting him, he informed me that the king, Self-love, was fallen ill; and that on account of his indisposition, the whole city prepared to testify their gratitude.
“How,” said I, “can you think of diversions, when the father of the country lies sick?”
“Yes,” said he, “it becomes us to rejoice; it would be hypocrisy to do otherwise, when we have a prospect of changing our master.”
“In the world of which I am an inhabitant,” rejoined I, “we feel the most lively sorrow, if our prince falls sick; and our religion commands us to offer up prayers for his health.”
“And we,” answered the good man, “are taught to rejoice; for we have no other policy than interest, and to which your religion is opposed.”
“If Self-love should die,” said I, “you would perhaps be governed by a less popular king. Pleasure, who aspires to the crown, Interest, nor either of the other princes of the blood, would exercise a dominion so happy and sweet. These princes are naturally proud, cruel, and vindictive: in the place of which, Self-love is often, nay, almost always solicitous for the preservation of his subjects.”
The conversation turned upon this topic, for some time. The old man, contrary to the usual spirit of aged people, was desirous that Pleasure should succeed to the throne. As for myself, I maintained that the nation would be less happy, under such a sway. After our soup, he wanted to carry me to see the fireworks, and the ball the governor gave upon the occasion. I refused to go; these things seeming to me very ridiculous, on account of the cause that elicited them. The old man was much offended at my refusal; he told me that I was a sour, dissatisfied man, and an enemy to the general joy. I replied, that he was an old fool, and that if he molested me any more, I would throw him out of the window, and put his family to the sword.
At this moment we heard the cry of fire in the house; and the common danger caused us to forego our quarrel. The uproar was caused by a servant girl, who, because her mistress refused, from some cause or other, to pay her wages, had set fire to the house, from motives of revenge. They pretended to extinguish it in a very curious manner, which was, by throwing on light stuffs, soaked in oil. I dreamt that a great sheet of flame suddenly enveloped me: I awoke on the instant, crying that I was in a house environed: and thinking the noise I heard came from the flame,—I cried, “fire!” A servant that was seeking me in the garden, ran, upon hearing me, and told me that some one waited to see me. When I had finished my business with this person, my dream caused me much reflection; the more I thought upon it, the closer seemed the resemblance to what is taking place in the world: in fact, it is Self-love that reigns, and these are the passions that govern us; and whoever could see the heart and soul of men, would find them arrant hypocrites. The world itself is the city of Hypocrisy. It is in this city, that interest, ambition, pleasure, vengeance, anger, and all other evil passions conceal themselves. The more I examine, the more clearly these truths appear:—That whosoever could disabuse himself for a single moment, would be so, for the remainder of his life: and he who really desires to know himself and the world, would learn from observation, more than he has an idea of. The world is, of all things, the most difficult to understand, and that which one ought to know the best. There is no person who distrusts himself; consequently, there is no one who realizes, that it is deceptive, filled with self-love, attached to its own interests, seeking its own gratifications, vain, unquiet, restless, presumptuous, vindictive, pure outwardly, criminal within, lovely and fair in appearance—deserving, at bottom, of hatred and contempt: and what is still more incomprehensible about this same world, is, there is hardly an individual who doth not love it; they lose by this love, and they know of a surety, that it is to this attachment they must attribute their losses: meanwhile, it pleases all: they seek after it; they wish to serve it; they abandon to it all which they hold most dear. Some sacrifice to it their honour for pleasure; others their lives for glory; and some surrender their repose for the poor ambition of fortune. But it was for us, the world was created; and that is really the victim one ought to sacrifice, to preserve his honour, to enjoy eternal pleasures, to acquire true glory, and amass treasures, that neither rust nor envy can spoil.—Think not, my dear reader, what I have here presented to you, a dream, a vision; it is more real than you imagine.
SIXTH NIGHT.
HELL.
I had been, during the autumn, at the country house of one of my friends. In the parish where he resided, that had not seen its bishop for thirty years, there had recently been settled a new curate, a fluent preacher, and very much devoted to the instruction of his flock—reading every Sunday homilies and sermons, and the greater and lesser catechisms. One day, I went to hear one of the familiar exhortations, which he usually gave to his people, concerning heaven and hell: he depicted the latter in such strong colours, that the whole audience were moved; and each whispered to himself, O frightful residence! Full of these ideas myself, I returned to sup at my entertainer’s house. After quitting the table, I extended myself on a couch; and my friend, seeing me soon overcome with a pleasant slumber, for we had fared sumptuously, left me, to enjoy himself the same refreshment. During sleep, I dreamed that I was at the outlet of an extensive forest, from whence diverged two roads, the one smooth and broad, the other rough, covered with stones and ditches, thorns, and thick entangled bushes. I pursued the first, in which I remarked many houses of pleasure, and multitudes of people, who travelled in carriages, on horseback, or on foot, at a moderate pace, without fatiguing themselves. One might see there, persons of all ages, sexes, conditions, and estates; one might find there, shops, magazines, taverns, play-houses, and societies of women; in fine, people of every country and religion. I was not surprised that many came from the narrow way into ours; but I was greatly so, at some who went from this fine road into the other, which caused me to inquire where it terminated: as to ours, I thought it led to Madrid. Some one answered, that the little way conducted to Paradise; and the one where I was, direct to Hell. I pursued my journey without making any other reflection. Having travelled about a quarter of a league, I began to perceive a bad odour, as of sulphur and bitumen, and supposed it proceeded from baths of mineral waters, which diffused a strong scent at a great distance around. I advanced constantly, and arrived at last before a large edifice, which answered the description of Pluto’s palace, as it is represented in fable. I found at the gate an immense devil, horrible to look upon. At this apparition, I stepped hastily back, two or three paces, and drew my sword, suspecting that some one was thus disguised, to do me an injury. The porter, perceiving my embarrassment, approached, telling me to fear nothing; for he was thus clothed, to deter the saints, who constantly endeavoured to abstract the damned from hell.
“It is then true, that this is hell,” said I.
“Yes, at your service: enter, enter, my lord, one had better come here living than dead.”
I immediately walked in, and besought a devil whom I met, to show me the apartments of the palace: he called himself Curiosity; this was his appellation of war, or rather that of his employment; for as angels take theirs from their offices near God or men, so likewise demons are named, from the services they execute, or the dignities with which they are invested.
“They denominate me Curiosity,” said the demon, “because it is I who inspire men with the desire of seeing, listening, proving, and tasting; and as it is curiosity that opens the door of sin, so it is I who open that of hell.”
“You may conduct me there,” said I, “on condition that you bring me back to the gate again, after I have examined it; and you will oblige me still farther, by leading me afterwards to paradise, which I would also visit.”
“It is not I,” replied Curiosity, “who can conduct you thither, and open the door; the guide of the way is Retirement, the porter, Virtue; but I will show you every thing worthy of notice here, and reconduct you to the place from whence I take you.”
“Very well,” said I, and followed him.
We first entered into a spacious court, where the devils were scourging the unhappy, who cried, “pardon, pardon, my God! I did not reflect—I did not believe—who told me of these things;” and many other similar expostulations.
“These,” observed the devil, “are people, that have come to hell without thinking about it, without fear, and without believing it.”
“They were then honest in their faith; but why punish those guilty only through ignorance?”
The devil replied, “they ought to think upon the matter, to instruct themselves, and be persuaded that hell is no place for mercy—so much the worse for them.”
I passed from thence into a great chamber, where there were many men gaming, who swore and blasphemed because they had lost a little money, or played a bad card. “Behold these people,” said I to the devil, “how impatient and hasty!”
“That is the cause of their being here.”
In another room we found comedians, who mourned at their captivity, shut up for having made the world laugh. Said they; “if by chance some equivocal words have impressed the spectators with evil thoughts, was it not rather their fault than ours?”
“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?”