Chapter 10

"And as for you, my brother _Mammon_, your power is so universal, and likewise so manifest upon the earth, that it has become a proverb that '_any thing can be got for money_.' And undoubtedly," said he, turning to Apollyon, "my beloved daughter _Pride_ is of great utility to us; for what is more capable of injuring a man in his condition, his body, and his soul, than that _proud_, _haughty idea_, which will make him squander a _hundred pounds_ for display, rather than stoop to give a _crown_ for peace. _She_ keeps people so stiff-necked, with their sight so intent on lofty things, that it is a pleasure to see them, by staring and reaching into the air, falling plump into the abysses of Hell. As for you, _Asmodeus_, we all remember your great services of yore; no one keeps his prisoners more firmly under the lock, and no one meets with less rebuke than yourself--the whole rebuke, indeed, consisting in a little laughing, at what is called wanton tricks. Yes, Asmodeus, I admit that your power is very great; though I cannot help reminding you," he added, with a jocular though truly infernal grin, "that you were all but starved, above there, during the last dear years. As for you, my son _Belphegor_, lousy prince of Sloth, nobody has afforded us more pleasure than yourself, so very great is your authority amongst gentle and simple, even down to the beggar. Nevertheless, if it were not for the skill of my daughter _Hypocrisy_, in coloring and disguising, who would ever swallow one of your hooks? And after all, if it were not for the diligent firmness of my brother _Beelzebub_, in keeping men in _inconsiderate bewilderment_, I question whether all of you united would be worth a straw. Now," said he, "let us review the whole.

"What would you be worth, Cerberus, with your excessive sucking, if it were not for the assistance of Mammon? What merchant would ever fetch your leaves from India, through so many perils, if it were not for the sake of Mammon? And if it were not for _his_ sake, what king would receive it, in Britain especially? And who, but for the sake of Mammon, would carry it to every corner of the kingdom? But, notwithstanding this, what wouldst thou be worth, Mammon, without Pride to squander thee upon fine houses, magnificent garments, needless litigations, music, horses and costly appurtenances, various dishes, beer and ale in a flood, far above the _means_ and _rank_ of the possessor; for if money were used within the limits of _necessity_ and _propriety_, of what advantage would Mammon be to us? Thus you would be worth nothing without _Pride_; and little would _Pride_ be worth without _Wantonness_, because bastards are the most numerous and the fiercest subjects, which my daughter _Pride_ possesses in the world.

"You too, Asmodeus, prince of _Wantonness_, what would you be worth, if it were not for _Sloth and Idleness_; where but for them would you get a night's lodging? You could hardly expect it from a labourer or toiling student. And you, Belphegor of Idleness, who would welcome you a minute, attended as you would be with shame and reproach, if it were not for Hypocrisy, who conceals your ugliness under the name of _internal sickness_, or of a _well meaning person_, or under the shape of _despising riches_ and the like.

"And she too, my dear daughter _Hypocrisy_, what is she worth, or what would she ever be worth, skilful and resolute sempstress as she is, if it were not for your help, my eldest brother _Beelzebub_, mighty prince of _Inconsiderateness_. If he would leave people leisure and respite, to seriously consider the nature of things and their difference, how often would they spy holes in the folds of the gold-cloth robe of _Hypocrisy_, and perceive the hooks through the bait? What man, did not Inconsiderateness deprive him of his senses, would chase baubles and pleasures--evanescent, surfeiting, foolish and disgraceful--and prefer them to _peace of conscience_, and glorious _everlasting happiness_? And who would hesitate to suffer martyrdom for his faith, for an hour or a day, or to endure affliction for forty or sixty years, if he would reflect that his neighbours here are suffering in an hour, more than he can ever suffer upon the earth?

"_Tobacco_ then is nothing without _money_, nor money without _Pride_; and Pride is but feeble without Wantonness, and Wantonness is nothing without _Idleness_; Idleness without _Hypocrisy_, and Hypocrisy without _Inconsiderateness_. But," said Lucifer, (and he raised his fiendish hoofs on the fore claws,) "to speak my own opinion, however excellent all these may be, I have a _friend_ to send against the she-enemy of Britain, better than the whole."

Then I could see all the chief devils, with their ghastly mouths opened towards Lucifer, in anxious expectation of learning what this friend might be, whilst I was as impatient to hear as they. "The one I allude to," said Lucifer, "is called _Ease_; she is one whose merits I have too long disregarded, and whose merit, Satan, you yourself disregarded of yore, when in tempting Job you turned the unpleasant side of life towards him. She is my darling, and her I now constitute deputy, immediately next to myself, in all matters relating to my earthly government; Ease is her name, and _she_ has damned more men than all ye together, and very few would ye catch without _her_. For in _war_, _or danger_, _or hunger_, _or sickness_, who would value _tobacco_, _or money_, or the pomposity of Pride, or would entertain a thought of welcoming either _Wantonness or Sloth_? Or who in such straits, would permit themselves to be distracted either by _Hypocrisy or Inconsiderateness_? No, no! they are too awake then, and not one of the infernal _flies of Bewilderment_, which shows its beak, will buzz, during one of these storms. But _Ease_, smooth Ease, is the nurse of you all: in her calm shadow, and in her teeming bosom ye are all bred, and also every other infernal worm of the conscience, which will come to gnaw its possessor _here_ for ever, without intermission.

"As long as _Ease_ lasts, there is no talk but of some species of diversion, of banquets, bargains, pedigrees, stories, news, and the like. There is no mention of _God_, except in idle swearing and cursing; whereas the _poor_ and the _sick_, who know nothing of ease, have God in their mouths and their hearts every minute.

"But go ye also in the rear of her, and keep every body in his sleep and his rest, in prosperity and comfort, abundance and carelessness; and then you will see the poor honest man, as soon as he shall drink of the alluring cup of Ease, become a perverse, proud, untractable churl--the industrious labourer change into a careless, waggish rattler--and every other person become just what you would desire him. Because pleasant _Ease_ is what every one seeks and loves; she hears not counsel, fears not punishment--if good, she will not recognise it--if bad, she will foster it of her own accord. _She_ is the prime-temptation; the man who is proof against _her_ tender charms, ye may fling your caps to--for we must bid farewell for ever to his company. _Ease_, then, is my terrestrial _deputy_, follow her to Britain, and be as obedient to her as to our own royal majesty."

At this moment the huge bolt was shaken, and Lucifer and his chief counsellors were struck to the vortex of _extremest Hell_; and oh, how horrible it was to see the throat of Unknown opening to receive them! "Well," said the angel "we will now return; but you have not yet seen any thing in comparison with the _whole_, which is within the bounds of _Destruction_, and if you had seen the whole, it is nothing to the inexpressible misery which exists in _Unknown_, for it is not possible to form an idea of the World in extremest Hell." And at that word the celestial messenger snatched me up to the firmament of the accursed kingdom of Darkness, by a way I had not seen, whence I obtained, from the palace along all the firmament of the black and hot _Destruction_, and the whole _land of Forgetfulness_, even to the walls of the _city of Destruction_, a full view of the accursed monster of a _giantess_, whose feet I had seen before--I do not possess words to describe her figure. But I can tell you that she was a _triple-faced giantess_, having one very atrocious countenance turned towards the heavens, barking, snorting and vomiting accursed abomination against the celestial king; another countenance very fair towards the _earth_, to entice men to tarry in her shadow; and another, the most frightful countenance of all, turned towards _Hell_, to torment it to all eternity. She is larger than the entire earth, and is yet daily increasing, and a hundred times more frightful than the whole of Hell. She caused Hell to be made, and it is she who fills it with inhabitants. If _she_ were removed from Hell, Hell would become Paradise; and if she were removed from the earth, the little world would become Heaven; and if she were to go to Heaven, she would change the regions of bliss into utter Hell. There is nothing in all the universe, (except herself,) that God did not create. She is the mother of the four female deceivers of the city of Destruction; she is the mother of _Death_; she is the mother of every _evil_ and _misery_; and she has a fearful hold on every living man--her name is SIN. "_He who escapes from her hook_, _for ever blessed is he_!" said the angel. Thereupon he departed, and I could hear his voice saying, "_write down what thou hast seen_, _and he who shall read it carefully shall never have reason to repent_."

The Heavy Heart.

Heavy's the heart with wandering below, And with seeing the things in the country of woe; Seeing lost men and the fiendish race, In their very horrible prison place; Seeing that the end of the crooked track Is a flaming lake, Where dragon and snake With rage are swelling. I'd not, o'er a thousand worlds to reign, Behold again, Though safe from pain, The infernal dwelling.

Heavy's my heart, whilst so vividly The place is yet in my memory; To see so many, to me well known, Thither unwittingly sinking down. To-day a hell-dog is yesterday's man, And he has no plan, But others to trepan To Hell's dismal revels. When he reach'd the pit he a fiend became, In face and in frame, And in mind the same As the very devils.

Heavy's the heart with viewing the bed, Where sin has the meed it has merited; What frightful taunts from forked tongue, On gentle and simple there are flung. The ghastliness of the damned things to state. Or the pains to relate Which will ne'er abate But increase for ever, No power have I, nor others I wot: Words cannot be got; The shapes and the spot Can be pictured never.

Heavy's the heart, as none will deny, At losing one's friend or the maid of one's eye; At losing one's freedom, one's land or wealth; At losing one's fame, or alas! one's health; At losing leisure; at losing ease; At losing peace And all things that please The heaven under. At losing memory, beauty and grace, Heart-heaviness For a little space Can cause no wonder.

Heavy's the heart of man when first He awakes from his worldly dream accursed, Fain would be freed from his awful load Of sin, and be reconciled with his God; When he feels for pleasures and luxuries Disgust arise, From the agonies Of the ferment unruly, Through which he becomes regenerate, Of Christ the mate, From his sinful state Springing blithe and holy.

Heavy's the heart of the best of mankind, Upon the bed of death reclined; In mind and body ill at ease, Betwixt remorse and the disease, Vext by sharp pangs and dreading more. O mortal poor! O dreadful hour! Horrors surround him! To the end of the vain world he has won; And dark and dun The eternal one Beholds beyond him.

Heavy's the heart, the pressure below, Of all the griefs I have mentioned now; But were they together all met in a mass, There's one grief still would all surpass; Hope frees from each woe, while we this side Of the wall abide-- At every tide 'Tis an outlet cranny. But there's a grief beyond the bier; Hope will ne'er Its victims cheer, That cheers so many.

Heavy's the heart therewith that's fraught; How heavy is mine at merely the thought! Our worldly woes, however hard, Are trifles when with that compared: That woe--which is known not here--that woe The lost ones know, And undergo In the nether regions; How wretched the man who exil'd to Hell, In Hell must dwell, And curse and yell With the Hellish legions!

At nought, that may ever betide thee, fret If at Hell thou art not arrived yet; But thither, I rede thee, in mind repair Full oft, and observantly wander there; Musing intense, after reading me, Of the flaming sea, Will speedily thee Convert by appalling. Frequent remembrance of the black deep Thy soul will keep, Thou erring sheep, From thither falling.

Footnotes:

{3} Probably Cheshire; the North Welsh commonly call Chester Caer.

{23} It is the custom of Mahometans, to lay aside their sandals, before entering the Mosque.

{49} Taliesin lived in the sixth century; he was a foundling, discovered in his infancy lying in a coracle, on a salmon-weir, in the domain of Elphin, a prince of North Wales, who became his patron. During his life he arrogated to himself a supernatural descent and understanding, and for at least a thousand years after his death he was regarded by the descendants of the Ancient Britons, as a prophet or something more. The poems which he produced procured for him the title of "Bardic King;" they display much that is vigorous and original, but are disfigured by mysticism and extravagant metaphor. The four lines which he is made to quote above are from his Hanes, or History, one of the most spirited of his pieces. When Elis Wynn represents him as sitting by a cauldron in Hades, he alludes to a wild legend concerning him, to the effect, that he imbibed awen or poetical genius whilst employed in watching "the seething pot" of the sorceress Cridwen, which legend has much in common with one of the Irish legends about Fin Macoul, which is itself nearly identical with one in the Edda, describing the manner in which Sigurd Fafnisbane became possessed of supernatural wisdom.

{50} A dreadful pestilence, which ravaged Gwynedd or North Wales in 560. Amongst its victims was the king of the country, the celebrated Maelgwn, son of Caswallon Law Hir.

{84} Llyn Tegid, or the lake of Beauty, in the neighbourhood of Bala.

{93} The reader is left to guess what description of people these prisoners were. They were probably violent fifth monarchy preachers.

{100} An active London Magistrate, treacherously murdered by a gang of papist conspirators in the reign of Charles the Second.

{108} A celebrated Welsh poet, who flourished in the thirteenth century. A short account of him will be found in Owen's Cambrian Biography.