Part 20

I have been working in the mines since the Fall. When our chief resolved to build Pandemonium, he sent me amongst others to search for silver, and from that time to this I have been digging in the lowest pit of this dismal place, for metal has always been wanted. At last I am released, and now I have much to see and to learn, for I know but little of recent events, the mines not abounding with intelligence. From some new workmen I have had an imperfect account of the creation of men; but I wish to see these new creatures, for I understand that the dissolute amongst them are sent here.

BELPHEGOR.

You call them new, forgetting how long you have been buried in the mines. You may find them here in sufficient numbers; and if you wish rather to see them living, you may, perhaps, obtain leave to accompany me to their world, where I am going very soon.

RECAB.

I shall be glad of the opportunity. And what are you doing now? I have observed you walking about, and examining the ground with great attention.

BELPHEGOR.

My business lately has been to keep the pavement of hell in repair.

RECAB.

Then you can tell me what this pavement is. I have never seen any thing like it before. There is nothing of the sort in the mines.

BELPHEGOR.

I find you are come very ignorant out of the mines. I thought all the world had known that hell is paved with good intentions.

RECAB.

Are good intentions so abundant here?

BELPHEGOR.

Oh! yes; they are the intentions of those, who come here after death.

RECAB.

I thought that the profligate only had been sent down to us.

BELPHEGOR.

True, but they are usually the best provided with good intentions.

RECAB.

That seems strange.

BELPHEGOR.

You will understand it better when you have seen living men.

RECAB.

But pray, how do you obtain these good intentions? For since you preside over the pavement, I suppose it is your duty to collect them.

BELPHEGOR.

Every man, who is sent here after death, brings down with him all the thoughts and actions of his life in a bag. At the gates of hell the bag is opened, and if any good deeds are found in it they are let go, and immediately fly up to heaven, where they are kept for the use of future men. His bad actions he carries on with him to the place where he receives his sentence; and his good intentions, that have never been accomplished, as being neither vice nor virtue, are thrown into a heap, and afterwards used in mending the pavement.

RECAB.

Are these intentions then very durable? Or what is the particular excellence of such a pavement? It seems to me a singular choice of materials.

BELPHEGOR.

The advantage of this pavement is, that it torments the condemned spectres; they are always wandering about; and when one of them finds his own good intentions, he remembers his opportunities of virtue, and is reproached with the folly of not having executed such resolutions.

RECAB.

It is ingeniously contrived: but how does a man discover his own intentions in this great space?

BELPHEGOR.

Do not you see inscriptions upon them? Each intention bears the name of the person by whom it was entertained. Look round, and you will observe here and there a man studying the ground with great attention. The miserable wretches will stand for hours and days poring over their own virtuous resolutions, and lamenting the weakness with which they broke them. For notwithstanding the misery of such reflections, there is an enchantment in this remorse, which fixes them to the spot.

RECAB.

I see some creatures intent upon the pavement; are they men?

BELPHEGOR.

They are the spectres of men.

RECAB.

I see that the pavement has other inscriptions besides the names of those to whom the intentions belonged.

BELPHEGOR.

Upon each is written the particular virtue, in favour of which the intention was formed. As you walk about you will see that the ground is covered with intentions of temperance, chastity, and every other virtue in the world. You may also observe that every separate piece of pavement is marked with lines, which serve to record the time during which the resolution lasted. Each is divided into seconds, minutes, and hours.

RECAB.

Then if time is represented by these lines, some of the good intentions appear to have lived but a very short time. Here is one that has lasted a minute.

BELPHEGOR.

A minute is a moderate continuance for so perishable a thing as a good intention. You may find great numbers of them cut off at a much earlier period.

RECAB.

Here I find an intention repeated a greater number of times than I shall take the trouble of counting. It is an intention of being moderate in wine and diet. This person seems to have become a temperate man at least a thousand times.

BELPHEGOR.

I remember the man: he died of an apoplexy from luxury. You see that each of his intentions has lasted just four hours, so that he has been temperate from the end of one meal to the beginning of the next. Each of his meals was concluded with a determination never to commit another debauch; and his last resolution was the only one that he kept, for he died before the opportunity of breaking it arrived.

RECAB.

Do men usually design to do a thing so often without doing it?

BELPHEGOR.

Many are very resolute between their infirmities, and perfectly virtuous all their lives, except at the moment of being frail.

RECAB.

But I should think this habitual austerity must impair the enjoyments of a voluptuous man. Even the attempt to be virtuous must disturb him, though not so much as the really being so.

BELPHEGOR.

Why no; a man living in a course of pleasures, which he knows to be ruinous, is frequently molested by remorse, to quiet which he determines upon abstinence ever after; and this he does, not that he may be abstemious in future, but that he may be easy at the present moment. Thus men form intentions of virtue that they may enjoy their vices in peace.

RECAB.

That artifice accounts for what you told me, that the dissolute are usually best provided with good intentions. Here is another design, which has paved a large district by its frequency. I see it is a determination against idleness.

BELPHEGOR.

Idleness has caused more pavement to be made than any other fault.

RECAB.

What does this inscription mean, "Never to see my friend's wife again?"

BELPHEGOR.

It is the resolution of a man, who found himself becoming too benevolent towards the wife of his friend. As soon as he made the discovery he determined to see her no more, but this noble intention proved a mere paving-stone. You see that he was three times resolved upon this self-denial, for here are three similar resolutions. I remember the case perfectly, for I was then on the earth, and was employed as tempter upon this very man. Here is the first of his determinations against seeing this beautiful woman again. You see that he resolved with great vigour, for the vow has been in force till the fifth day. During that time my business was to clear his mind from prejudicial thoughts, such as the danger of discovery, the ruin and unhappiness of the lady, the injury and indignation of his friend. These reflections were at first very troublesome, and returned as fast as I drove them out. I therefore changed my plan, and suffered them to take full possession of him without resistance, so that he was soon in perfect security, and thought himself so well fortified that absence was unnecessary. He therefore released himself from the irksome determination, and saw the lady again. After a week passed in her society, being seized with a sudden terror he made this second resolution, which, as you see, continued for two days. He then began to fear that this violent forbearance would prove intolerable, and concluded that his best policy would be to see the lady sometimes, though seldom, and thus reclaim himself from her by degrees. Still he had vigour left for a third banishment, and this time you may see that he remained firm for six hours, after which he judiciously acquiesced in what he could not prevent.

RECAB.

But I do not quite understand all this. You speak of a man endeavouring to leave his friend's house, and not succeeding. If he wished to go, what prevented him? Had he not the use of his limbs?

BELPHEGOR.

Yes, but he could not persuade them to carry him away.

RECAB.

That I cannot comprehend; if I wish to fly, my wings never refuse to flap, and if I would walk I am not obliged to use any oratory with my feet. You tell me that a man sometimes sits still against his own consent, and cannot prevail upon his own limbs to convey him where he would go.

BELPHEGOR.

Yes, there is this singularity in human nature, that a man holds a very precarious power over himself, and is often inexorable to his own reasoning. There are a few peremptory men, who keep themselves in absolute subjection; but the generality maintain an uncertain dominion, and many have very little authority with themselves; so that most men are all their lives doing one thing and trying to do another. Some have recourse to every sort of artifice and enticement in procuring from themselves what they wish to be done, and it is remarkable that a man is very easily deceived by a plot of his own devising. There is nothing that mortifies him more than to be deceived by another man, but he submits to be cheated by himself without a murmur. He is sharp-sighted and suspicious against all others, but towards himself is wonderfully credulous, notwithstanding the experience that he has had of his own arts. But you will understand this better when you have seen living men.

RECAB.

I hope so, for I now find it very abstruse. Here, I see, is a most resolute paving stone, for the intention it declares is, "To abandon all my vices next year."

BELPHEGOR.

There are just thirty of these stones. The man began to resolve at forty years of age, and entered into an annual agreement with himself till seventy, when he died.

RECAB.

What are those heaps that I see near the gates?

BELPHEGOR.

They are heaps of virtuous intentions, ready to be used upon any part of the pavement that wants repair. I have found several places, where the inscriptions are worn out, and must order those spots to be mended. As soon as the stones become illegible they are always removed, being then incapable of causing remorse.

RECAB.

Why are they opening the gates?

BELPHEGOR.

To receive some men, who have lately died, and been sent here from the earth. You may observe that each of them carries a bag. We will go and see what addition they have brought to our materials for paving. I remember these men, having known them in my last visit to the earth. The first was a miser; his bag is quite full, but I think there are more vices than good intentions in it. Empty his bag. Why, it has not yielded one paving stone; the unprofitable wretch has never even intended to do good. Let us see what his faults are. He has seen his relations distressed without relief, has cheated his friends, been cruel to his children, with a great deal more; and all this without so much virtue as amounts to a paving stone. Shut up his bag again. The next was a convivial spendthrift; what a shower of virtuous projects is coming out of his bag! He has as many good intentions as vicious actions, and will pave a considerable district. He would have been an excellent man if he could. The third was a selfish tyrannical wretch; his bag will afford us nothing; yes, there is one piece of pavement, which is more than I expected from him. What can it be? "An intention of forgiving a distressed cottager his rent." This, I suppose, was his only approach to virtue, and he would not break the uniformity of his life by accomplishing the design. I must leave you now, for I have other business; but I shall soon be ready for my journey to the world where these creatures are alive, and I will ask for permission to take you as my companion. If you become a skilful tempter, you will have frequent employment amongst men, and will find their world far more agreeable than this. I therefore advise you to study the art with diligence, and I will teach you all I know in it. Before I am ready to set out you cannot employ your time better than in conversing with the spectres here, from whom you may learn something of the world they came from.

RECAB.

I will follow your advice, and pray do not fail to obtain me permission to attend you.

* * * * *

THE TWO EVIL SPIRITS.

DIALOGUE II.

BELPHEGOR.

Well, Recab, are you ready to set out?

RECAB.

Have you obtained permission for me?

BELPHEGOR.

Yes; I represented you as an ingenious spirit, and likely by practice to become an accomplished tempter. You must endeavour to justify my praises, or I shall be disgraced.

RECAB.

I will certainly apply myself industriously to the employment, for fear I should be sent back into the mines. I have been conversing with the dead, as you advised me, but have not obtained from them any clear insight into the nature of man. I have learned that human life is miserable, and that no man can leave without bitter regret the world in which he has been so wretched. I have also discovered that men are the authors of their own unhappiness; that they are miserable, not by necessity but choice. The first desire of man is to be happy; the power of being happy is given to him, and he prefers the being miserable. The mines may, perhaps, have impaired my faculties, but these things appear to me to be very difficult studies.

BELPHEGOR.

Men are full of contradictions, certainly, but still they may be understood. Come, let us set out; I have an order for the gate to be opened to us.

RECAB.

What have you in that bag?

BELPHEGOR.

A new disease, as a present for mankind. You will see me distribute it. I seldom go to the earth without some largess. But come, the gate is opened; we must stand upon the very brink, and then spring out into the abyss.

RECAB.

How dark it is! How shall we find our way?

BELPHEGOR.

I know the road very well; you have only to keep close behind me. Now spring;--well done! flap your wings boldly, and shoot straight upwards.

RECAB.

But which is upwards? I can find neither upwards nor downwards in this black abyss; it is all alike.

BELPHEGOR.

Keep close to me.

RECAB.

But how am I to see you?

BELPHEGOR.

You must follow me by the sound of my wings.

RECAB.

Belphegor! Belphegor!

BELPHEGOR.

What is the matter with you?

RECAB.

I had lost you; pray do not go so fast. I never before flew with so much labour and difficulty.

BELPHEGOR.

We are still within the attraction of hell, which drags us back. We shall soon be beyond its influence, and then you will fly without fatigue. Well, do not you fly with more ease now?

RECAB.

Yes; but I am tired of being in the dark.

BELPHEGOR.

You must learn perseverance if you would be a tempter. But do not you see a glimmering of light before us?

RECAB.

I believe I do now.

BELPHEGOR.

And now look, there is a star.

RECAB.

What is a star? There are no stars in our mines, and therefore I know not what they are.

BELPHEGOR.

You will see what they are when we arrive amongst them. We are directing our course to the star that you see.

RECAB.

I see hundreds of stars now.

BELPHEGOR.

Yes; and that which you saw first is something more than a star.

RECAB.

What a beautiful globe of light it is become.

BELPHEGOR.

Several worlds revolve round it at different distances, and to one of them we are going.

RECAB.

Take care, Belphegor; do you see what is coming? A great world is rushing towards us.

BELPHEGOR.

Do not fear; it will do us no harm. That is the planet the most distant from this sun. It is accompanied by six smaller globes, which glide very prettily round the large one.

RECAB.

Very prettily, perhaps, but I should like to be out of their way.

BELPHEGOR.

Fly straight on, and trust to my guidance.

RECAB.

Here comes another strange world, with a hoop round it, and seven little globes.

BELPHEGOR.

That is the second planet from the extremity; and now at a distance you see a third, with four attendants. But there is our globe; we shall soon reach it.

RECAB.

There are two together.

BELPHEGOR.

Yes; it is the larger that we are to visit.

RECAB.

It grows to a great size as we come near; but surely we shall be dashed against it.

BELPHEGOR.

Fly on without fear. There, you find we have reached the ground without any injury. You may sit down to rest yourself for a few minutes.

RECAB.

What a cool delightful world!

BELPHEGOR.

We must fly on a little farther yet. This is India; and England is the country we are to visit.

RECAB.

Are your proceedings limited to a particular spot?

BELPHEGOR.

It is best that every tempter should confine himself to one country, that he may know the particular character of the people, and so tempt them to advantage. I have chosen to light in India first, having a little business to transact here.

RECAB.

Are you opening your bag to let out the blessing that you told me of?

BELPHEGOR.

Yes; you see this little blue ball: it is a new disease of my own invention, which will become very famous, and acquire the name of Cholera Morbus. This little ball will surprise men in the midst of their sins, and send them down to us in thousands. I have chosen this country to let my disease loose in, because the climate here is most favourable to its first prosperity. I have placed it on the ground, and you see that, having felt the open air, it is beginning to turn into a blue vapour. The whole ball has now disappeared, and the vapour crawls slowly along before the wind. Let us follow our assassin, and see its first success: it is going straight towards that village. There is a strong healthy man;--see! he is the first victim; the vapour has coiled itself round him like a serpent.

RECAB.

He has fallen down.

BELPHEGOR.

And you may perceive what pain he suffers.

RECAB.

Two more have fallen.

BELPHEGOR.

And the blue cloud continues to spread. My medicine was well mixed; that vapour needs no farther orders; we may therefore continue our flight. This disease will give rise to innumerable conjectures among men, and many ingenious opinions will be formed concerning its origin. I think human science cannot discover that it was let out of my bag.

RECAB.

Have you bestowed many such presents upon the world?

BELPHEGOR.

Yes; long ago, I brought here a vigorous disease, which obtained the name of "the plague." After having put millions to death, it is still as lively as at first. But diseases are not the only blessings distributed from this bag; sometimes it lets loose a delusion. Not long after the creation of this world I mixed a delusion with uncommon skill, and brought it from below in my bag. It is called "religious zeal," and has been more fatal than the plague. As soon as I perceived its success, I combined its most important ingredients with a few more drugs, and so formed another excellent delusion, called "party spirit." There is hardly a country on the earth which has not been visited with both. But come, if your wings have had rest enough we will mount again.

RECAB.

I am ready.

BELPHEGOR.

We will rise only to a moderate height, that you may see the earth and its inhabitants. You will be pleased with the sight, now that you are no longer afraid of the world's rolling against you.

RECAB.

How beautiful it is! I perceive that men have the same figure here as when they come down to us, only they now look more healthy and cheerful. But pray what quarter of the globe are we now flying over? for I have learned from the dead that the earth is divided into four parts.

BELPHEGOR.

This is Asia below us.

RECAB.

Then there are two great cities here, which I have a curiosity to see, Nineveh and Babylon; for I heard Sardanapalus and Nebuchadnezzar conversing about them, and each contending for the superior splendour of his own city.

BELPHEGOR.

You are not much conversant with Eastern history. You are come up some thousands of years too late to see the places you mention; not a trace of them remains. But do you see that man sitting in the desert and drawing, with his servants asleep, and his camels resting by him. That is an English traveller; and he is now taking a sketch of Babylon.

RECAB.

But how can he draw a town that is not there? He must be a great artist. I can see nothing but desert where he is looking.

BELPHEGOR.

He sits at least 200 miles from the place where that city really stood; but having found a few stones, he is drawing them as Babylon, and is determined that no man shall dissuade him from having really seen that famous city. When he returns home, he will make a great book containing this picture, and many others equally authentic; and his countrymen will delight themselves with looking at the true Babylon. He might as well confirm the validity of his work by a portrait of Belshazzar. However, those stones will represent Babylon as well as if they were true fragments of the great wall. Look there! far away where I point; there is a famous city.

RECAB.

But can I see it? or is it in the same condition as Babylon?

BELPHEGOR.

It is really to be seen; that is Constantinople.

RECAB.

What! the city of the murderer, Constantine, whom we have below?

BELPHEGOR.

Yes; the emperor attended by so many bishops, who are always wondering why they are not in heaven.

RECAB.

Is this the sea that quivers in the sun below us? I have heard that this world is divided into sea and land.

BELPHEGOR.

Yes; to the left you may see a river flowing into it with several mouths: there is Egypt, the country of the Pharaohs and Ptolemies, with some of whom, perhaps, you may be acquainted. On the sea you may perceive several ships full of men. Most of those now under us are from England. The people of that country are perpetually wandering round the globe. You may see two Englishmen in the middle of Africa--those two white men surrounded by blacks. They are English travellers, who, having every comfort at home, choose to roam through the deserts of Africa, in the greatest misery.

RECAB.

I have heard much below of the wretchedness of human life; but, as if there were a want of suffering, men seem to follow pain with the greatest industry, and then think themselves cruelly treated because they are allowed to find it; they choose to wander through the deserts and then complain that they are not comfortable and at home.

BELPHEGOR.

A great part of mankind take the same pains to be miserable that these travellers do.

RECAB.

But are they also looking for Babylon in the sand?

BELPHEGOR.

No; though a desert of Africa would be as good a Babylon as a desert of Asia. These travellers have a different purpose. There is an African river of which the English know the source, but they have not discovered where it runs into the sea; and I should tell you, that the whole people of England are in great trouble when they know the beginning of a river, and not the end. These two resolute men, therefore, are exposing themselves to the greatest dangers and hardships, that both ends of the stream may be known; and if they can pursue it to the place where it runs into the sea, and actually detect it in the fact, they will return to tell their countrymen, who will be overjoyed by the intelligence. But now we must turn our course to the right, for I have deviated from the true direction to give you a survey of the earth. Europe is now beneath us.

RECAB.

I see a great crowd of men running about, and a thick smoke rising from them.

BELPHEGOR.

That is a battle, in which crowds of men meet together to kill others and be killed themselves. Probably many thousands will go down to us from this encounter.

RECAB.

And how can they be compelled to destroy each other so plentifully?

BELPHEGOR.

There is no compulsion: all these men might have remained at home, and preserved their lives.

RECAB.