Chapter 6

The next to come to the bar was a king from near Rome. “Raise thy hand, caitiff,” bade one of the officers. “I hope,” said he, “ye have somewhat better manners and favor for a king.” “Sirrah, you too,” said Death, “ought to have kept on the other side of the gulf where everybody is king; but know that, on this side, there are none besides myself and another, who dwelleth down below, and you shall see that that king and myself will set no value upon the degree of your greatness, but rather upon the degree of your wickedness, and so make your punishment proportionate to your crimes; therefore give answer to the questions.” “Sir, allow me to tell you that you have no authority to arrest and examine me,” said he, “I hold a pardon under the Pope’s own hand for all my sins. Because I served him faithfully, he gave me a dispensation to go straight to Paradise, without a moment’s stay in Purgatory.” At that the king, and all the lean jaws, gave a dismal grin in imitation of laughter, and the other, angered at their laughing, ordered them to show him the way. “Silence, lost fool!” cried Death, “Purgatory lies behind thee, on the other side of the wall, for it was in life thou hadst ought to have purified thyself, and Paradise is on the right, beyond that chasm. Now there is no way of escape for thee, neither across this abyss to Paradise, nor through the boundary wall back to earth; for wert thou to give thy kingdom—though thou hast not a ha’penny to give—the warder of those doors would not let thee look once, even through the keyhole. This is called the irremeable wall, for once it is passed there is no hope of return. But since you are so high in the Pope’s favor, {54} you shall go and get his bed ready with his predecessor, and there you may kiss his toe for ever, and he, the toe of Lucifer.” At the word, four death-imps raised him up, now trembling like an aspen leaf, and snatched him away out of sight, with the speed of lightning.

Next after him, came a man and woman; he had been a boon companion, and she a kind and lavish maid, but there they were called by their plain, unvarnished names, a drunkard and a harlot. “I hope,” said the drunkard, “I may obtain some favor in your eyes, for I despatched hither on a flood of good ale many a fatted prey, and when I failed to slay others, I willingly came myself to feed you.” “By the court’s leave,” said the minion, “not half so many as I have despatched to you as a burnt offering ready for table.” “Ha, ha,” exclaimed Death, “it was to feed your own accursed lusts, and not me, that all this was done. Let them be bound together and hurled into the land of darkness.” And so they too were hurried away headlong.

Next to them came seven recorders, who, on being bidden to raise their hands {55} to the bar, pretended not to hear the command, for their palms were so thickly greased. One of them, bolder than the rest, began to argue, “We ought to have had fair citation, in order to prepare our reply, instead of being attacked unawares.” “Oh, we are not bound to give you any particular notice,” said Death, “because ye have, everywhere, and everywhile throughout your lives, warning of my advent. How many sermons on the mortality of man have ye heard? How many books, how many graves, knells and fevers, how many messages and signs, have ye seen? What is your Sleep but my brother? Your heads but my image? Your daily food but dead creatures? Seek not to lay the blame of your ill hap on my shoulders—ye would not hear of the summons, although ye had it an hundred times.” “Pray what have you against us?” asked one ruddy recorder. “What indeed?” exclaimed Death, “the drinking the sweat and blood of the poor, and the doubling your fees.” “Here is an honest man,” he said, pointing to a wrangler behind them, “who knows I never did aught but what was fair, and it is not fair in you to detain us here, seeing you have no specific charge to prove against us.” “Ha, ha!” cried Death, “ye shall bring proof against yourselves; place them on the verge of the precipice before the throne of Justice; there they will obtain justice, though they practised it not.”

There were yet seven other prisoners, who kept up such commotion and clamour—some blandishing, gnashing the teeth and uttering threats, others giving advice and so on. Scarcely had they been summoned to the bar than the whole court darkened sevenfold more hideously than before, a murmuring and great confusion arose around the throne, and Death became more livid than ever. Upon enquiry it seemed that one of Lucifer’s envoys had arrived, bearing a letter to Death, concerning these seven prisoners; and shortly, Fate called for silence to read the letter which, as far as I can recollect, was as follows:—

“LUCIFER, _King of the Kings of Earth_, _Prince of Perdition and Archruler of the Deep_, _To our natural son_, _mightiest and most terrible King Death_, _greeting_, _wishing you supremacy and booty without end_:

“Whereas some of our swift messengers, who are always out espying, have informed us that there lately came into your royal court seven prisoners of the seven most worthless and dangerous species in the world, and that you are about to hurl them over the precipice into my realm: our advice is, that you endeavour, by every possible way, to let them return to the earth; there they will be more serviceable—to you, in the matter of food, to me, for supplying better company. We had too much trouble with their partners in days gone by, and our kingdom is, even now, unsettled. Wherefore, turn them back or retain them yourself; for, by the infernal crown, if thou cast them hither, I will undermine the foundations of thy kingdom, until it fall and become one with mine own great realm.

“_From our Court_, _on the miry Swamp in the glowing Evildom_, _in the year of our reign_, _5425_.”

King Death, his visage green and livid, stood for a time undecided. But while he was meditating, Fate turned upon him such a grim frown that he trembled. “Sire,” said Fate, “consider well what you are about to do. I dare not allow anyone to repass the bounds of Eternity—the insurmountable ramparts, nor deign you harbour any here, wherefore, send them on to their doom, spite of the great Evil One. He has been able to array in a moment many a haul of a thousand or ten thousand souls, and allot each one his place, and what difficulty will he have with these seven now, however dangerous they may be? Whatever happen, even if they overturn the infernal government, send them thither instantly, lest I be commanded to crush thee to untimely nothingness. As for his menaces, they are false, and although thy doom, and that of yon ancient (looking at Time), are not many pages hence, yet, thou need have no fear of sinking down to Lucifer, for however glad everybody there would be to have thee, they never will; for the eternal rocks of steel and adamant, which roof Hell, are somewhat too firm to be shattered.” Whereupon Death, in great agitation, called for someone to indite thus his reply:—

“DEATH, _King of Terrors_, _Conqueror of Conquerors_, _To our most revered kinsman and neighbour_, _Lucifer_, _Monarch of the Endless Night_, _and Emperor of the Sheer Vortex_, _Salutation_:

“After giving earnest thought to this your royal wish, it seemeth to us more advantageous, not only to our state, but also to your vast realm, that these prisoners be sent to the furthest point possible from the portals of the impervious wall, left their putrid odour should so terrify the entire City of Destruction that no one would ever enter Eternity from that side of the gulf, and I, in consequence, would be unable to cool my sting, and you should have no commerce betwixt earth and hell. But I leave you to judge them, and to cast them into the cells you deem most secure and befitting.

“_From our Lower Court in the Great Tollgate of Destruction: from the year of the restoration of my Kingdom_, _1670_.”

After hearing all this, I was itching to know what manner of folk these seven might be, seeing that the devils themselves feared them so much. But ere long, the Clerk to the Crown calls them by name, as follows: “Mister Busybody, alias Finger-in-every-pie.” This fellow was so fussily and busily directing the others, that he had no leisure to answer to his name until Death threatened to sunder him with his dart. Then, “Mr. Slanderer, alias Foe-of-Good-Fame,” was called, but no response came. “He is rather bashful to hear his titles,” said the third, “he can’t abide the nicknames.” “Have you no titles, I wonder?” asked the Slanderer, “call Mr. Honey-tongued Swaggerer, alias Smoothgulp, alias Venomsmile.” “Here,” cried a woman, who was standing near, pointing to the Swaggerer. “Ha, Madam Huntress!” cried he, “your humble servant; I am glad to see you well, I never saw a more beautiful woman in breeches, but woe’s me to think how pitiable is the country, having lost in you such an unrivalled ruler; and yet, your pleasant company will make hell itself somewhat better.” “Oh, thou scion of evil,” cried she, “no one need a worse hell than to be with thee—thou art enough.” Then the crier called, “Huntress, alias Mistress o’ the Breeches.” “Here,” answered someone else, she herself not saying a word because they did not “madam” her. Next was called the Schemer, alias Jack-of-all-Trades. But he, too, failed to answer, for he was assiduously plotting to escape the Land of Despair. “Here, here,” cried someone behind him, “here he is spying for a place to break out of your great court, and unless you be on your guard, he has a considerable plot against you.” “Then,” said the Schemer, “Let him also be called, to wit, The Accuser-of-his-Brethren, alias Faultfinder, alias Complaint-monger.” “Here, here he is,” cried the Litigious Wrangler—for each one knew the other’s name, but none would acknowledge his own. “You are also called,” said the Accuser, “Mr. Litigious Wrangler, alias Cumber-of-Courts.” “Witness, witness, all of you, what names the knave has given me,” cried the Wrangler. “Ha, ha, ’tis not according to the font, but according to the fault, that everybody is named in this land,” said Death, “and with your permission, Mr. Wrangler, these names must stick to you for evermore.” “Indeed,” quoth the Wrangler, “by the devil, I’ll make it hot for you; although you may put me to death, you have no right to nickname me. I shall enter a plaint for this and for false imprisonment, against you and your kinsman Lucifer, in the Court of Justice.”

By this I could see the armies of Death in array and armed, looking to the king for the word of command. Then the king, standing erect on his throne, spoke as follows: “My terrible and invincible hosts, spare neither care nor haste to despatch these prisoners out of my territories, lest they corrupt my country; throw them in bonds headlong over the hopeless precipice. But as to the eighth, this cumbrous fellow who menaces me, let him free on the brink beneath the Court of Justice, so that he may make good his charge against me, if he can.” No sooner had he sat down than the whole deadly armies surrounded and bound the prisoners, and led them towards their appointed dwelling. And when I, having gone out, half-turned to look at them. “Come hither,” cried Sleep, and flew with me to the top of the loftiest tower on the court; from whence I saw the prisoners going forth to their everlasting doom. Before long a sudden whirlwind arose, and drove away the pitch-dark mist usually hovering over the Land of Oblivion, and in the wan light, I could see myriads of livid candles, and by their gleam, I obtained a far-off view of the mouth of the bottomless abyss. But if that was a horrible sight, overhead was one still more horrible—Justice, on her throne, guarding the portal of hell, and holding a special tribunal above the entrance thereto, to pronounce the doom of the damned as they arrive. I beheld the seven hurled headlong over the terrible verge, and the Wrangler, too, rushing to throw himself over, lest he should once look on the Court of Justice, for, alas, the sight thereof was intolerable to guilty eyes. I was only gazing from a distance, yet I beheld more dreadful horrors than I can now relate, nor then could endure; for my spirit so strove and panted through exceeding fear, and struggled so violently, that all the bonds of Sleep were burst; my soul returned to its wonted functions, and I rejoiced greatly to perceive myself still among the living, and resolved to lead a better life, for I would rather suffer affliction an hundred years in the paths of holiness than, perforce, take another glance at the horrors of that night.

1 Must I leave home and fatherland, And every charm and pleasure? Leave honored name and high degree Enjoyed in life’s brief measure?

2 Leave beauty, strength, and wisdom, too, All won in hard employment,— All I have learnt, and all I’ve loved, And all this world’s enjoyment.

3 Can I evade the stroke of Death That rends all ties asunder? Do not his awful shambles gape For me to be his plunder?

4 Ye gilded men would fain enjoy The wealth your souls engrossing, But ye must bow to him and go The journey of his choosing.

5 Ye favored fair, whose lightest word Has caused ten thousand errors, Think not your garish, tinselled charms Can blind the King of Terrors.

6 Ye who rejoice in heedless youth And follow fleeting pleasures, Know that ye cannot conquer Death By valor, arts, or treasures.

7 Ye who exult in madding song The giddy dances treading, Think not that all the mirth of France Can thwart the fate you’re dreading.

8 Ye who have roamed the wide world o’er, Where have ye found the tower, With walls and portals strong enough To check Death’s awful power?

9 Statesmen and learned sages, all Of godlike understanding, What will your craft and skill avail? ’Tis Death who is commanding.

10 The greatest foes of man are now The world, the flesh, the devil; And yet, ere long, we’ll surely find In Death a greater evil.

11 How little now it seems to die— To gain the suit or lose it? But when the doom is of thyself How great thy care to chose it?

12 We care, at present, not a jot Which way our gains may turn us; Eternal life, howe’er so great, We think can not concern us.

13 But when thou’rt hedged on every side And Death himself is nearest, For one brief, ling’ring space we’ll give Whate’er to us is dearest.

14 Think not that thou canst make thy terms For thine eternal dwelling, On either side of that dread gulf, With death thy steps compelling.

15 Repentence, faith, and righteousness, Alone are thy Salvation, And in the agony of Death Shall be thy consolation.

16 And when the world is passing by, Its joys and pleasures ending, Infinite thou wilt deem their worth When to the bourne descending!

III.—THE VISION OF HELL.

One April morning, bright and mild, when earth was with verdure laden, and Britain, like a paradise, had donned its brilliant livery, foretelling summer’s sunshine, I sauntered along the banks of the Severn, while around me, chaunting their sweet carols, the forest’s little songsters in rivalry poured forth songs of praise to their Maker; and I, who was far more bounden than they to give praise, at one while lifted up my voice with the gentle winged choristers, and at another read “_The Practice of Piety_.” {67} For all that, my previous visions would not from my mind, but time after time broke in upon every other thought. They continued to trouble me until after careful reasoning I concluded that every vision is a heaven-sent warning against sin, and that therefore it was my duty to write them down as a warning to others also. And whilst occupied with this work, and sadly endeavouring to recall some of those awful memories, there fell upon me at my task such drowsiness that soon opened the way for Master Sleep to glide in perforce. No sooner had sleep taken possession of my senses than there drew nigh unto me a glorious apparition upon the form of a young man, tall and exceeding fair; his raiments were whiter sevenfold than snow, the brightness of his face darkened the sun, his wavy, golden locks rested on his brow in two shining coronal wreaths. “Come with me, thou mortal being,” he exclaimed, when he had drawn near. “Who art thou, Lord?” said I. “I am the Angel of the realms of the North,” answered he, “guardian of Britain and its queen. I am one of the princes who stand below the throne of the Lamb, receiving his commands to protect the Gospel against all its enemies in Hell, in Rome and in France, in Constantinople, in Africa and in India, and wherever else they may be, devising plans for its destruction. I am the Angel who saved thee beneath the Castle of Belial, and who showed thee the vanity and madness of all the earth, the City of Destruction and the splendor of Emmanuel’s City; and again have I come at his bidding to show thee greater things, because thou art seeking to make good use of what thou hast seen erstwhile.” “How can it be, Lord,” asked I, “that your glorious highness, guardian of kings and kingdoms, does condescend to associate with carrion such as I?” “Ah,” said he, “in our sight a beggar’s virtue is more than a king’s majesty. What if I am greater than all the kings of earth, and supreme to many of the countless lords of heaven? Yet, since our eternal Sovereign vouchsafed to take upon Himself such unutterable humiliation—put on one of your bodies, lived in your midst, and died to save you, how dare I deem it otherwise than too sublime for my office to serve thee and the meanest of men, who are so high in my Master’s favor? Hence, spirit, cast off thine earthy mould!” he cried, gazing upwards: and at the word, I beheld him fall free of all bodily form, and snatch me up to the vault of heaven, through the region of thunder and lightning, and all the glowing armouries of the empyrean; higher, immeasureably higher than I had previously been with him, and where the earth appeared scarcely wider than a stack-yard. Having allowed me to rest awhile, he hurried me upwards a myriad miles, until the sun appeared far beneath us; through the milky way, past Pleiades, and many other stars of appalling magnitude, catching a distant glimpse of other worlds. And after journeying for a long time, we come at last to the confines of the great eternity, in sight of the two courts of the vauntful King of Death—one to the right, the other to the left, but very far apart from one another as there lay an immense void between them. I asked whether I might go and see the court on my right hand, for I observed that this was not at all like the other I had previously seen. “Thou shalt perchance,” said he, “see, somewhile, more of the difference there is between them. But now we must proceed in another direction.” At that we turned away from the little world, and across the intervening space we let ourselves descend into the Eternal Realm between the two courts, into the formless void, a boundless tract, most deep and dark, chaotic and uninhabited, at one time cold, at another hot, {69} now silent, now resounding with the roaring of cataracts falling and quenching the fires, and anon of the fire bursting out and burning up the water. Thus, there was neither order nor completeness, nor life nor form: nought but this dazing dissonance, this mysterious stupor which would have made me for ever blind, had not my friend laid bare once more his vesture of heavenly sheen. By the light he gave I saw before me to the left the Land of Oblivion, and the borders of the Wilds of Destruction; and to my right, methought, the base of the ramparts of Glory. “This is the great abysm between Abraham and Dives,” said he, “which is called Chaos: this is the land of the matter which God did first create, and here is the seed of every living thing; of these the Almighty Word created your world and all it doth contain—water, fire, air, earth, beasts, fishes, insects, birds and the human body; but your souls are of a higher and nobler origin and stock.”

Through the huge, frightful chaos we at length broke forth to the left; and ere we had journey’d far therein where every object grew uglier and uglier, I felt my heart in my throat, and my hair erect like a hedgehog’s bristles, even before perceiving anything; but what I did perceive was a sight no tongue can describe nor the mind of a mortal dwell upon. I fainted. Oh, that limitless abyss, so dire and terrible, opening out upon another world! How those awful flames crackled incessantly as they darted upwards above the banks of the accursed ravine, and the shafts of impetuous lightning rent the thick, black smoke which the yawning chasm belched forth! When my beloved companion awoke me, he gave me ambrosial water to drink, of most excellent flavor and color. After drinking this heavenly water I felt some wonderful power within me,—wit, courage, faith, and many other divine virtues. Thereupon I drew nigh with him unfearingly to the edge of the precipice, shrouded in the veil, whilst the flames parted asunder around us, and dared not touch denizens of the supernal regions. Then from the edge of that dread gulf, we let ourselves descend, like two stars falling from the canopy of heaven, down, down for myriad millions of miles, over many sulphurous rocks, and many a hideous cataract and fiery precipice, where all things bent downwards ever, with impending aspect; yet they all avoided us, except when once I poked my nose out of the veil, there struck me such a stifling and choking stench as would have ended me had he not saved me out of hand with the reviving water. When I had recovered, I could see that we were come to a halt, for in all that stupenduous chasm no sooner stay were possible, so sheer and slippery was it. There my Guide allowed me once more to rest; and during that respite it chanced that the thunder and the fierce whirlwinds were a little hushed, and above the roar of the foaming cataracts, {71} I could hear from afar, louder than all, the noise of such awful shrieks, wails, cries, and loud groans, of swearing, cursing and blaspheming, that I would rather have set a bargain upon my ears than listen. And before we had moved an inch, we heard from above such _hip-drip-drop_ that had we not straightway stepped aside, there would have fallen upon us hundreds of unhappy men whom a host of fiends were hurling headlong, and too hurriedly to a woful fate. “Ho, slowly sir!” quoth one sprite, “lest you displace your curly lock;” and to another “Madam, will you have your soft cushion? I fear me you will be much disordered before you reach your resting-place.”