Part 6

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About three quarters,” replied I.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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