Transcribed from the 1832 Literary Rooms edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org

THE
VISIONS OF QUEVEDO.

TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH.

BY WM. ELLIOT, ESQ.

PHILADELPHIA:
LITERARY ROOMS, 121 CHESNUT STREET
HENRY H. PORTER, PROPRIETOR.

1832.

Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1831, by Henry H. Porter, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court, of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.

PREFACE.

The Translator of the Visions of Quevedo, can truly say, that the pleasure he himself derived from their perusal in the original, alone gave him the idea of translating them into English. It is believed by the writer of this article, that the present is the only English translation of the Visions of Quevedo, although they have been translated into many other languages, and into French no fewer than five several times by as many different authors: the last of which, that has fallen under his notice, was published at Paris in 1812, the plan of which has been followed in the present version. The advertisement to that edition, contains the following just remarks—“The Visions, are regarded as the most piquant production, that ever came from the fruitful and ingenious pen of Quevedo, one of the best Spanish writers. In general, the criticisms they present, although mixed with some tedious detail, have much point, and do not fail in their application at the present day.” It is hoped the reader will condescend to excuse any inaccuracies that have escaped the translator’s attention, and realize from the perusal entertainment sufficient to recompense him for his time.

CONTENTS.

NOTICE OF THE LIFE OF QUEVEDO.

Fracois de Quevedo de Villegas, a Spanish gentleman, and knight of the order of Saint James, was born in 1570, at Villa Nueva de l’Infantado; and not at Madrid, as has been asserted by Moreri, and repeated after him in the Historical Dictionary of Lyons. He was lord of Juan Abbate, in the province of La Mancha, an estate of which he bore the title. After having visited Italy, France, and all Spain, and rendered the most signal services to the Spanish ministry, he took up his residence at Madrid.

During his stay at court, he devoted himself to study and composition: being considered the most polished writer of his time, and one who united in himself the greatest versatility of talent. The taste of Quevedo naturally inclined him to fictitious composition. Endowed with keen perceptions, a vivid imagination, and rapidity of invention, he is not indebted to the drudgery of research, and other men’s thoughts for his immortal productions: depending solely upon his own resources, he was emphatically an original writer.

The author of the Spanish Library, expresses himself of Quevedo, in the following terms: “He knew how to reconcile the gravest studies with pleasantries and wit. His style is embellished with the ornaments of an adroitly managed application: he has so much finesse, such an immense fund of invention, of ideas as novel as ingenious—so much soft and delicate irony: he understands so well, whether in verse or prose, how to sketch with facility a pleasant or ridiculous subject, that among gay writers there is not one comparable to him. Nervous and sublime in heroic poetry, graceful in lyric verse, full of wit and gaiety in his sportive works, his genius illuminates the weakest subjects.”

His poetical effusions have been very much sought after. Nicholas Antonio, an excellent critic, says, also, that in the higher walks of poetry, he has force and sublimity. His luxuriant imagination carried him alternately to both sacred and profane verse. He wrote divers religious treatises, and many essays extremely amusing, besides translations in verse and prose. He published, among other works, the Spanish Panassus, and the novel known by the name of the Sharper.

His works have been published in four volumes folio, and in eleven volumes octavo. They comprise, under the title of Dreams or Visions, divers works of his, published at different times, in various places, and with different titles.

Quevedo, in his old age, was very infirm; and, at an advanced period of his life, was imprisoned by order of Count d’Olivarez, for a libel upon his administration, in which situation he remained till the death of the minister. He died at Villa Nueva de l’Infantado, the place of his birth, on the eighth day of September, 1645.

FIRST NIGHT.
THE DEMON.

The prayers of the church being considered as the most efficacious remedies that can be employed against the possession of the devil, a malady almost invincible, some wealthy inhabitants of the country had brought into this city of Seville, one of their relations, who was thus afflicted, to confide his cure to a religious of renowned sanctity; or, in other words, for the purpose of having him exorcised. On the day assigned for this operation, the possessed was carried to the church of the Cordeliers, which very soon overflowed with spectators. The gates having been shut before my arrival, I engaged a religious of my acquaintance to admit me. He introduced me by the gate of the monastery; but I had no sooner entered the church, than I had reason to repent my curiosity: I was hustled by the crowd, and overcome with the heat. There my regards were attracted by an unhappy wretch, of an ill figure, with wild eyes and dishevelled garments, his hands bound behind his back, and uttering from time to time the most frightful yells. There was much impatience testified to behold this holy priest, of whom I have spoken, whose name was Juan de Cardanas, father of Barnadino de Cardanas, Capuchin, and Bishop of Paragua, in America. After the performance of mass, he found himself so much indisposed, that they were obliged to postpone the exorcism till another day. I was not sorry; for, not partaking in the credulity of the people, who often impute epileptical complaints to the operation of demons, I had for a long time been desirous of personally verifying those things they relate concerning the possessions of the devil. I lost no time in visiting the relations of this unhappy person, whom I shrewdly suspected had recourse to this adroit method to rid themselves of the inconvenience of certain pecadilloes he had been engaged in. I inspired them with sufficient confidence to obtain permission to visit their lodgings the following night, with a view of making such an examination as I should judge proper. I preferred this time to any other, that I might the better conceal the defeat of my enterprize if it should not succeed.

The night being come, I was introduced into the chamber of the possessed whom they had placed upon a bed in such a manner that he could not rise. The presence of his friends prevented me from the proposition of certain questions I had meditated. The following will serve as a sample:

Is it possible to find out the philosopher’s stone?

Can the quadrature of the circle be discovered?

Is there an universal panacea for every disease?

Is there among herbs, any simples which can inspire love in women, or protect from blows and wounds?

I had put in writing some other objects of my curiosity; but as it was not a convenient time to propound them, I began to feel the pulse of the possessed. It was frequent and elevated: from time to time his eyes were troubled; and he had convulsive movements, from which he suffered very much.

After having examined his body, I examined his mind, speaking to him in Greek, Hebrew, Turkish, Indian, and even in the Mexican tongue. He answered me always very appropriately in Spanish, which convinced me that he was in truth possessed with a devil; for although he spake not all languages, he nevertheless understood them, which could not naturally happen without study or travel. His relations assured me he had done neither the one nor the other.

I demanded of the demon, what name he had in hell?

He answered, “that he had no other appellation than that of the employment which he exercised in the world: that he had been for a long time in the service of an alguazil, in whom he inspired all the chicanery and wickedness with which he plagued poor people.”

Let us remark here, that the word alguazil is borrowed from the Moresco tongue, and signifies in Spanish, a constable, a cryer, a clerk, or other subaltern of justice.

“Why,” said I to the demon, “are you entered into the body of this man?”

“Because he was himself an alguazil, and a person of a licentious life. After having been banished from his paternal home, finding himself necessitous, he associated with alguazils to extort money, under pretence of executing the decrees of justice, and in the arrest of bodies, which he often abandoned for small sums. It was in the execution of this business, that he stole a silver cup from the house of a country curate, and subtracted a purse of one hundred ducats from the pocket of a man, who, for the stuff, was delivered from the hands of justice.”

I asked him if there were many of these people in hell?

“Very many,” answered he: “the constables have neither honour nor conscience; they drive their trade whether they know any thing of the matter or not: in that particular they resemble the poets. You shall scarcely find in hell, a single poet, who will not tell you that he was sent there on account of the versified lies he told in praise of some beauty. The poetic spirit hath its origin in the disposition of the heart, to receive tender impressions: it is the lover of heroism and romance; and to sustain this character, must necessarily make use of much artifice. The old poets serve as secretaries to young lovers; the young ones are ambitious of blazing as the heroes of their own compositions. There are so many poets in hell, that it can hardly fail of aggrandizing their quarter. I wish to speak in such a manner, that you may comprehend the nature of their occupations and torments there; but of which you cannot have an adequate idea, unless I shall here adduce some examples:—

“When these authors enter the subterranean abodes, they look around for a Charon, a dog Cerberus, a Rhadamanthus, a Pluto, and all the infernal divinities of fable. In place of that, the demons make them realize, that this is a place much more horrible than that: but this is not their severest punishment; they are forced to hear the compositions of other poets, who are their superiors in talent; then they are tormented by jealousy; they hate the epigrams of Martial, the stanzas of Catullus, the odes of Horace, the beauties of Virgil, the satires of Juvenal, the comedies of Terence, and the tragedies of Seneca. It is thus also the historians suffer, when they listen to the histories of Herodotus, of Titus, Livy, of Sallust, and of Cæsar.

“What a punishment for these rhymsters, when they recollect their own works! You cannot imagine the pain they experience, in finding a felicitous rhyme, a happy epithet, a just pause, or an harmonious cadence: they are more tormented by an a or an e, than Tantalus is by thirst, or the Italians are with their jealousy, when they have Frenchmen at their houses. And the comic poets, how are they punished, for having filched away the reputation of so many princesses and queens of Castile, of Leon, of Arragon, and other places! This is as fertile a field for them, as all the wars of the Moors of Granada; but for these larcenies, they suffer sharper agonies as Christians, than will ever be inflicted upon the barbarians and Mohammedans, for all their battles and burnings, or upon the alguazils, even for their violences and exactions.

“Behold, in review of the subject,” said the demon, who spake by the mouth of the possessed, “there is a much nearer resemblance between poets and alguazils, than one would, at a first glance, imagine.”

“A fine comparison,” said I, “for such a false spirit as you!”

“How!” answered he, “are not poets and alguazils both thieves? and if you would but confess it, you well know, that in making these remarks of poets, I speak to a poet, whom I wish to undeceive. Do you not recollect the old Spanish proverb, He who never composed two verses, had no wit; and he who produced four, was a fool?”

“I confess,” said I, “that to be a poet, one must have an original turn of imagination; and the same qualification is necessary to a painter: one would find it very difficult to assume, without merit, the rank of Apelles and Michael Angelo: but as they cannot justly call these celebrated artists so generally admired, fools, so neither do I believe they can accuse of folly the great poets of Spain, of Italy, of France, of Turkey, of Persia, and of China: for in all these places they have made verses.”

“Yes,” said he, “and in all these places there are fools, alguazils, painters, astrologers, jealous or complaisant husbands, mountebanks, perfumers, plagiaries, triflers, and slaves of business or pleasure. All these, under pretext of pleasure or justice, steal, without compunction, the wealth of others.”

“Oh!” said I to him, “I now recognize in you a true demon; you delight to lie, and in crying out that all who serve the public rob them, you enhance their reputation. But tell me what robbery a magistrate commits, when he obeys, and wishes to compel others to obey, the laws of his prince? when, in fine, he distributes to every one justice? Without justice, which punishes and avenges, no one could enjoy security in his own house. A whole city might be given up to pillage, and become more horrible than the hell you inhabit; a state of things which must excite a very just indignation among reasonable people; that is, among those who understand the principles of order, equity, and natural right. And what a picture would every family offer! Children opposing themselves to their fathers, and servants against their masters; brothers would make laws for brothers, and mothers have no authority over their daughters!”

“Behold,” said the demon, “a superb description of the disorder which would happen, if the gentlemen of justice did not make it their duty to become the first robbers!”

“Do you call the pecuniary penalties they impose, robbery?” replied I. “They are wisely established as a check upon avarice and usury, which are the ruin of families. The fines they impose are regarded sometimes as extortions; but they are not so; for if the community provided not for the necessities of all, do you believe that individuals would furnish of themselves, what is necessary for the republic? do you believe they would contribute without a demand? There is not among the officers of government, so much cupidity and bad faith, as you charge them with. But answer me: without their assistance, their care, their vigilance, would there be any security to emperors, kings, popes, and bishops in their beds, or repose in their dignities?”

“I have not,” said the demon, “so bad a tongue as you believe. I know, truly, all the affairs of the world, and the state of every condition in republics. In accusing the most of mankind, I do them no injustice: and those evils which you say would happen, without the assistance of those who are appointed to execute the laws, happen in spite of their wisdom. The worst of it is, they are brought about by those very persons who are expected to prevent it, and who are paid for that object. Whence has it arisen that so many emperors have been killed, so many kings dethroned, so many popes declared anti-popes, so many bishops dismissed, so many magistrates suppressed, so many families ruined, so many cities pillaged, so many provinces reduced to famine? It is by the ministers of justice, by the overseers of administrations, that all these things are done, either directly or indirectly: directly, with a view to profit by the disorder; or indirectly, from a culpable inertness. How do so many officers of the long robe contrive to live? They lengthen out their robes with the pieces they snatch from the officers of the short robes. A man who goes to law, may be compared to him who orders a coat: he will have a good coat, but yet not receive all the stuff he delivered to his tailor. He will take enough for two pair of sleeves, and two fore parts; he will take twice as many buttons, twice as much silk, binding, and lining, as is necessary for one garment; and you shall have but one, when you ought to have two out of the cloth you purchased. A Spanish grandee, wishing to have a coat in the French style, purchased as much cloth as the tailor demanded of him, whom he also left at liberty to take as much lining, assorted to the colour of the cloth. After they had taken his measure, he caused them to call the tailor, and told him that he desired the lining of one coat to be red, and that of the other yellow.

“‘How, my lord,’ said the tailor, ‘do you wish me to make two coats, when you have given me stuff but for one?’

“‘Yes; I do expect it,’ said the grandee; ‘and if you do not make them both sufficiently large, I will put you in a safe place.’

“The tailor, who feared the prison, made two garments as long and large as they ought to be, without purchasing another shred of cloth. When he brought them home, the lord caused all the stuff to be measured by an engineer, in his service; he found that it yet wanted half a quarter of an ell, besides the little pieces he was forced to cut out for the angles. This was not all; the Spanish grandee, whose name I can tell you, which was Don Pedro de Saccaso, wished that the master tailor should pay him for two garments, which he cabbaged out of stuff he had delivered him the preceding spring; and as the tailor cried out at this injustice, the grandee refused to pay him for the fashion, lining, and trimming of gold of these two last. Thus you will comprehend,” observed the demon, “in what particular the people charged with the administration of justice resemble tailors, and in what manner they are unjust, even in rendering justice. In their suits they generally make certain pieces of meadow or vineyard the object of contention; and if the parties complain of want of money to pay their fees, they take from them that which they demand at their tribunal.”

“So,” said I to the demon, “there is no justice upon earth!”

“No, no, there is none,” added he; “and it is not to-day, that for the first time the complaint has been uttered. The fable says, that Astrea being come with truth among men, was obliged to return to heaven, because no person would receive her. Truth met with the same fate, after having wandered through the world, sometimes among the Egyptians, sometimes among the Greeks, sometimes among the Romans, and sometimes even among the Chinese; she was constrained, at length, to retire to the house of a poor mute, who yet, by false and equivocal signs, gave her to understand that he wished to get rid of her company. She then returned to the place from whence she came. Justice perceiving they would not tolerate her in courts, among the abodes of princes, in palaces, or great cities, fled into the villages, where, however, she did not tarry a long-time; for the stewards of the lords, that is, those ignorant stewards who seek but to amass money with which to pay their charges, gave her chase, and forced her to regain her own country. The beauty of Astrea, or Justice, resembles that of the stars—shining, noble, and worthy of admiration; but this is only when beheld at a distance; for were you to approach too near to a star, although it appears to you so diminutive, it would consume you in an instant. Justice is fair, but she is proud, austere, rigid, inexorable, and no respecter of persons: she wishes to be sought and beloved, but she loves not one friend more than another; and like love, she travels a little in the rear. Is it possible to find any thing more exact, more faithful, more laborious, more submissive, more complaisant, than a violent love? It fails not in the minutest particular; it knows no concealment; nothing appears difficult to it; it is always ready to obey, accounting no toil disagreeable; in the desire, to please, it finds every thing just as it wishes. Justice does the same in another sense, for she meets with exactness in the slightest circumstance: she is faithful in the least things; she is laborious, and fears no pain; she is submissive to the laws which she imposes; she is complaisant for herself, and even sometimes appears unjust, so impartial and rigorous is she.”

“I suppose then,” said I, “there are many judges in hell, if what you say is correct, which seems to me very probable.”

“Yes,” replied the demon, “they are there in great numbers, and we have put them in the same place with thieves and robbers. One circumstance that will surprise you, is, that their multitude is as considerable as that of the amorous; although they have among the former, only the men who were judges: and among the latter, men and women who have loved once at least in their lives.”

“You wish to give me to understand,” said I to him, “that there are many lovers in hell; but can that be? If men were damned for this passion, no person should be exempt from your infernal jurisdiction. But this passion hath one great advantage; it is conformable to the charity that men owe to one another, and is always accompanied with repentance, and certain remorse of conscience, when it departs from those who have been possessed. One sees young girls even, who repent of their faults. How many religions houses are founded by penitence! how many old coquettes give themselves up to devotion! how many men follow their example, after love has fled with beauty, constitution, and wealth!”

“But,” said the demon, “how many men and women, young and old, die in their amours, and count you for nothing the despair, the chagrin, the secret pains under which so many lovers have succumbed? Know you not that some temperaments are so affected by this passion, that they quit it but with life? If I should relate to you the histories of both sexes perverted by the perusal of gallant adventures, and having no other desire in their souls but to experience the like; if I should cause you to see the occupations of these people in hell, you would pity some, while you could not help laughing at the folly of others. You would see young men burning at the feet of their mistresses; and old ones, who, to please theirs, are continually shaving themselves, or plucking out their beard, and who put on bland perukes, to give themselves a youthful appearance; young girls, who imagine themselves to be Cleopatras, Artemisias, and Clelias; old coquettes, who paint themselves continually before their glass, who torment their locks, tightening the forehead-cloth to efface the wrinkles, and adjusting to the mouth artificial teeth of ivory or wax: but all their cases are lost, since there is nothing substantial in the other world. You would be astonished, if I were to point out to you all the girls who have taken certain means to hide the effects of their love sports. It would of necessity be seen, how many surgeons and physicians follow in their train; and if any one should inquire why these people are in hell, who have rendered such universal service, I answer, because they ought not to afford assistance to every one. Can they, for instance,” added he, “conscientiously administer those remedies to cause hemorrhages, which end in abortion?”

And as I was about to observe, that the physicians could not be cognizant of a malady which they would not discover—

“I understand you,” interrupted the demon: “be sure they know well enough, without that; at any rate, it is their duty to know, or to suspect.”

“But,” said I to him, “is there not another secret you have omitted, of similar effect to the assistance of the physicians?”

“Yes,” he answered: “there are the poisoners, sorcerers, and adroit women, who teach these mysteries; and there are some in hell who yet continue this infamous practice.”

“You would have it understood,” said I, “that you are a good devil; a devil of honour and conscience: you would make a good preacher; the flock would doubtless edify by your sermons.”

“Be persuaded,” said he, “that if I preach not agreeable things, I announce wholesome truths: believe also, that I have many preachers dependent upon me. ‘Who are they?’ you inquire. They are those who preach for their own glory, to establish a reputation, to acquire celebrity, to gain benefices, and levy contributions upon poor devotees. They commit wickedness in doing good to others; in teaching and edifying them. If we lose the hearers through the instrumentality of their discourses, we gain the pastors, which is more honourable to us. Finally, I declare to you, that it is by the order of God, that I speak to you before all these persons: I warn you, in particular, that you are lost, unless you abandon all the projects of ambition you have formed, and unless you renounce poetry, which is at the same time so agreeable and fatal.

“Draw near,” said he, to an old man, a relation of the possessed: “restore the three farms you illegally detain. You, young man, imitate Hercules no more with your strength and intrigue; Hercules is dead; you may find men who will kill you.—You old judge of the village, you have a very delicate and perilous charge: you were the valet of the lord of the domain; you have preserved in your new station, the spirit of servitude, which is not sympathetic with justice. The petition of your ancient master, you stupid wretch. The three peasants who have bound and strangled the helpless patient upon his bed, are those who enjoy the benefit. It is now six years since the farm-house of their master was consumed with fire: they ought to be punished for these crimes.—As to those young ladies, they would do well not to admit, for the future, the two strangers, whom they entertain every evening in their chambers, and whom they introduce by the garden. Profit, all of you, by what you have now heard: I shall speak to you no more, for to-morrow the priest comes to exorcise me, and I shall depart from the body of this subject, it being the will of God that I should go forth, to attest his power and the glory of his name.”

The demon having finished this discourse, took pleasure in tormenting the possessed, and making him utter moving cries. I feared the neighbourhood would be alarmed, and that some one would recognize me in a place where I could not be with honour. In returning to my house, I reflected upon the wisdom of God, who draweth good from evil, and causeth demons to speak as angels of light. The prophet hath also remarked, that divine Providence disposeth things in such a manner, that the hands of our enemies can conduce to our welfare. This is the first possessed I ever saw in the course of my life, and the first time I ever conversed with a demon. God grant that I may never behold another, neither in this world, nor in the world to come!

SECOND NIGHT
DEATH AND HER PALACE.

There are those who affirm that none but the wicked are subjected to unpleasant thoughts. I have been acquainted with many persons, but I could never find one who was not ready to confess, there were moments of sadness that invaded the soul, the cause of which they could not explain. These spring, sometimes from a vicious temperament: the humours mixing themselves with the blood, carry to the brain those spirits that trace upon the imagination frightful and whimsical figures, from whence come those disagreeable dreams and visions that surprise us in the night. Dreams proceed often from heaven, often from the devil, and frequently from natural causes; thus we have thoughts of death, after conversation on the subject, or having read a book that treated of it. To speak plainly, it seems that Providence sends us such dreams, for the purpose of forcing our attention to the consideration of those subjects we are generally reluctant to reflect upon. Such is, without doubt, the origin of this I have had concerning death.

I read one night before retiring, the verse of Lucretius, one of the most learned men, and best poets of antiquity. I found an eminently beautiful passage, where he says, that all nature, with one consent, elevating her voice, speaks thus to mankind:—“Why, O mortals, do you groan for such a length of time, and why are you so sharply afflicted? Why do you submit to the slavery of flying from death, and the fear thereof? Why do you continually reflect upon the pleasures of youth? The enjoyments of this season have passed with the days you regret, as grain escapes from a sack, from whence it finds an issue. You are fatigued with the world; why do you not quit it, as one who returns satisfied from a feast, where the viands were exquisite, and the pleasure of the highest flavour? You are convicted of a strange folly: it is in your power to enjoy tranquillity; why not, then, seize upon possession? Why fear death, that will render you invulnerable?”

Such are the sentiments of the poet, and they appear like those of a saint; but this is nature, or rather, natural reason, teaching us that death is not so frightful as we are apt to imagine; and I am not therefore surprised, that heathen philosophers have exhibited so constant an example of exalted morality.

Likewise I remember what Job has said upon the brevity of human life, and the swift arrival of death. “The life of man,” says this illustrious patriarch, “is of short duration: it is a flower, that before it is scarcely blown, is despoiled of its leaves: it is a shadow, which flies with the rapidity of the wind, without remaining stationary a single moment;” and yet, in spite of its brevity, life is subject to so much calamity, that it is doubtful whether it should not rather be called misery, than life.

Indulging in these grave meditations, I threw myself upon my bed, and slept. My spirit was free from external impressions. I thought there came into the places where my fancy had transported me, a great multitude of physicians, mounted upon mules, the housings of which, were clothes of the dead. In the suit of these physicians, who had an air of sourness and chagrin, followed a crowd of apothecaries, surgeons, and young barbers, who carried the drugs or instruments pertaining to their professions. When the physicians had descended from their mules, they began to dance a ballet, to the sound of the mortars and sieves the apothecaries and their adjuncts played upon. This ballet was interspersed with songs, in which the physicians took the upper part; the words of one of them were as follows:—

“Catholicum, rhubarbarae, opiata, theriaca,
Opoponach, O opium, O laudanum anodinum,
Polychrestum diureticum, senne anisatum.”

Two young physicians performed the air in these words:—

“Recipe, recipe, recipe, recipe senne,
Dragmas duas, dragmas duas, dragmas duas,
Semi-dragmum rhei electac,
Scrupulum unum polychresti,
Infundantur, percolentur, hauriantur,
Horâ sextâ matutinâ,
Recipe, recipe, recipe, etc.”

Two surgeons answered to that, seca; ure; that is to say, cut, burn; and directly both joined in chorus—these repeating recipe, the others ure, and the last dancing.

This troop having sat, there entered another composed of newsmongers, and people who followed them to learn what was transacted abroad in England, France, Holland, Italy, and other places. After these entered solicitors, stewards of noble estates, soldiers, priests, and other persons whom I did not know. This cavalcade was terminated by a woman of monstrous stature, meagre, pale, and having a very extraordinary equipage. Her head dress consisted of crowns, tiaras, electoral bonnets, mitres, red and black hats, hats of straw, turbans, and bonnets of wool and silk: upon one side of the head, she had her hair curled and powdered; upon the other, shaven after the fashion of monks. Her robe was tissue of thread, wool, and silk, ornamented with trimmings of gold and silver, chaplets, precious stones, and pearls: she had upon her feet and legs, shoes of iron, wood, and leather: she bore upon a sceptre, a shepherd’s crook, a scythe, and a great club: she had one eye open, and the other shut; and carried, pendant from her neck, a sand box, with crosses of the order of Saint James, of the Holy Ghost, and the medals of other military orders: her gait was alternately slow, then quick and precipitate. She approached my bed, and said, “Arise, Chevalier, follow me!”

“But, before I follow thee,” replied I, “inform me who you are.”

“I am Death,” answered she; “follow me!”

“Is it your pleasure, then, that I should die?”

“No, no! follow me, and leave behind thy garment; for a person is not to be clothed when he follows Death. I will show you my empire, and my subjects. I am the queen of queens, the empress of sovereigns, the sovereign of the human race; and the powers of earth are but my inspectors.”

“How!” exclaimed I, “dare you to say the king of Spain is your inspector? he who possesses so many territories in the world?”

“Follow, follow,” said Death; “I will show you.”

Immediately all those who were there, went out in the same order they had entered: Death following the rear of the procession, and I following Death.

We traversed vast plains and deserts, which resembled cemeteries, or fields of battle, covered with dead. Directly I perceived, at a distance, an immense castle, built in the antique style; and when I had drawn near, I observed that the materials were nothing but bones cemented with blood and apothecaries’ drugs. The three porters in the court were very pleasant to the sight. The first resembled a harlequin assuming divers attitudes, and having upon his habits the figures of kingdoms and provinces of the earth; in such a fashion, indeed, that I seemed to look upon a geographical map: his name was the World. The second, who called himself the Flesh, was naked, like those figures of Priapus one sees upon medals. The third was armed, cap a pie, in gold and silver, like a curassier. They told me those three guards were the enemies of the world, and the porters of Death. The pavement of the court was of human sculls, as well as that of the chambers: these sculls were arranged in such a manner, that they resembled a chess board; some being white, and others, having the hair upon them, appeared black. In the middle of this court was a fountain of tears: the figures about the basin, represented Uneasiness, Envy, Jealousy, Despair, Knavery, Sickness, Medicine, War, Revenge, and Love. The tapestries of the chambers were all upon particular subjects. One might see in one piece, people contracting marriage; in another, lawyers pleading a case; in this, merchants preparing for bankruptcy; in that, honest thieves upon the grand tour, stripping the peasantry. The others represented an ecclesiastic, who, dying in his bed, has, in his last moments, the satisfaction of seeing his house pillaged; a courier riding from Madrid to Rome, to solicit a benefice; a tiler falling from the roof of a house; a drunken sailor precipitating himself from his vessel into the sea; a house burning with such rapidity, that its master is consumed in the flames; in fine, one might there perceive every species of human death.

But none of these impressed me with so much horror, as the paintings in fresco under the grand portico. There were here servants who strangled their master to obtain his money; children who assassinated their father, to come more speedily into possession of his property; subjects who kill their king, after having pronounced his condemnation; a woman who poisons her husband; and a mistress who does the same to her lover, to revenge his infidelity.

In the middle of this gallery, was a colossal figure, representing Ingratitude, and elevated upon a pedestal; the relief of which presented on the one side Cruelty, on the second Infidelity, on the third Interest, on the fourth Ambition. The base was ornamented with sculptural emblems of sporting cupids, satyrs, lions, and cats.

After having traversed the whole extent of this apartment, Death entered into a grand and magnificent hall; the sable hangings of which were sown with white drops, like the ornaments commonly seen on monuments in burying places. In this hall stood a throne composed of dead men’s bones, and which appeared like ivory: four leg bones formed the supporters; two arms, with their hands, the arms of the seat; a spinal bone, with those of the thighs, composed the back part; the two pommels above were two sculls, and the seat was of other bones. It was ascended by four steps, the first of which was called infancy, the second youth, the third manhood, and the fourth old age. Death being seated, the whole medical corps ranged themselves on either side, the others being seated at their feet.

Death spake for some time upon the limits of life, and of the grandeur of her empire: she finished her discourse by observing that there was but one way of coming into existence, but many ways of quitting it. She then gave a general order for the dead to appear, and all at once I saw them fall from the wainscot, and come from the walls and pavement. “Speak,” said the queen, “each in turn.”

The first who commenced, said, “I am Romulus, first king of Rome; my ministers not being able to tolerate my government, wished to change it; they caused me to be assassinated, and a report spread, that I had, in their presence, been translated to heaven.”

“I am,” said another, “Cæsar, first emperor of the Romans: the senate caused me to perish by the hand of my adopted son.”

A third, “I am the emperor Claudius, poisoned by my wife.”

A fourth, “I am Alexander the great; I died in the very bosom of a debauch.”

A fifth, “I am Codrus, king of the Athenians; I died for my country.”

“And I,” exclaimed a sixth, “am Charles the fifth, whose bones my son exhumed, and burnt.”

In like manner appeared many of the illustrious dead, now confounded with all kinds of people. When they had spoken, they formed a great circle, in the midst of which I perceived a large bottle, from whence issued a voice, that said, “I am that famous necromancer, the great magician of Europe. I caused myself to be cut in pieces by one of my servants, and shut up in this vessel, expecting my members would re-unite, and my body be renewed in its pristine youth; I know not whether the secret was false, or if he neglected to follow strictly my orders; but after boiling a long time, I formed only a gross, misshapen, and lifeless mass.”

“You then were of opinion,” said death, “that the soul was but a subtle fire; a flame that could animate your body, and repair itself!”

“Yes,” answered the necromancer.

“Close the vessel again,” said Death.

When all the by-standers had been heard, they were required to put their names upon a great book; and while they were writing, I saw the bottle move towards me. The necromancer within immediately commenced a conversation with me; inquiring, “who reigns in Spain? Does Venice yet exist? What is the news in France? Are the Calvinists constantly triumphant?”

I answered him, “Philip IV. reigns in Spain; Venice is still beautiful, rich, and powerful: the Calvinists and their king are always invincible.”

He then besought me to break the bottle. As I hesitated, not being without certain qualms of fear, it swelled, and burst of itself. I then saw what it had contained expand into a human form, and rising up, resumed the discourse in this manner:—

“As it is impossible for me to return again into the world, place us henceforth among the dead magicians.”

In the place of the bottle, there appeared an old man with a great head and a long beard: he was of a grave mein, and held a globe in his hand.

“I am,” said he, “Nestradamus, that great French astrologer, who predicted, during my life, every thing that has since happened.”

“How,” said I, “are you he that composed those famous centuries, which, after death, were found in your tomb? Resolve me, I pray you, one of your prophecies now in my mind:—

“‘The sign of Aries shall the world command;
Taurus shall rule the waves and solid land;
Mother and sire the virgin shall deceive,
The mother’s breasts the tender twins shall leave.’”

“That,” said the astrologer, “is as clear as the light of day; and signifies, that married men shall frequently resemble rams: the love of woman, represented by the bull, shall mingle itself with affairs of every kind; the daughter divert herself spite of the advice of her father, and the sons laugh at maternal expostulation.”

“And this, what is its signification?” demanded I:—

“‘Mothers soon shall children bear,
Who to name no sire shall dare;
None of all the babes they bear,
E’er shall lack a father’s care.’”

“That is equally easy of explanation. I wish to convey the idea, that many children shall call those fathers, who are not so; and shall have fathers whom they will never discover.”

He would have departed, after explaining these two prophecies; but I stopped him, entreating him only to tell me the meaning of this last:—

“‘Before another year is born,
Many a goose quill shall be worn;
Many a quill the ether bear,
Many a man shall dance in air;
Men shall sorely rue the attack,
Of grey goose quill and Doctor Quack;
Merchants be in bankrupt plight,
Nobles turn to blackguards quite;
Province, city, town, and village,
Soon shall soldiers sack and pillage;
Lads and lasses soon shall try,
What darkness hides from every eye;
No more shall widows’ weeds endure;
The cloister virgins shall immure.’”

“That signifies,” said Nostradamus, who was in haste to depart, “that one half of the world shall pillage the other; the people of justice shall rob by their pen; false witnesses will support themselves by hanging upon their skirts; the physicians will kill with physic, and be well paid for it; the merchants thrive by bankruptcy; nobles shall be ruined by their stewards; the soldiers will lay all under contribution; children shall rob one another; widows contract new nuptials, and to enjoy the portions of their daughters, make nuns of them. Let go!”—and he hastily left me.

I then perceived before me a good old man, of a very sad aspect, who demanded if I was dead?

“No,” answered I; “living, and at your service.”

“Good!” said he; “I expect a favour of you. You must know, I am called They. I also bear the appellation of Somebody, of Another, of a certain Personage, of Author, and of I know who. While I lived in the world, I was accused of having said and done every thing which could not be traced: if a false report was circulated, it was they who had broached it: if any one was found assassinated in the high way, it was they who had killed him: if there was a man with a bad face, this was somebody: if it was imprudent to name a person in an affair, they called him a certain person: if a writer advanced bold things, this was an author, who had spoken on the first impression: and, finally, when the author was entirely concealed, it was I know who, that had said or acted thus and so. All this time I neither said nor did any thing; I appeared no where; I knew not what passed, and kept house both day and night; the chagrin of seeing myself in so bad repute, fairly put an end to my existence. I demand, therefore, of you, to vindicate me to your friends, and those persons over whom you have any influence, that they may not in future charge me with any thing; for, since I am dead, I can of course have nothing more to do with the world.”

I promised the old gentleman I would remember what he desired, and he retired contented. At this moment a young woman coming up to me, fell upon my neck, exclaiming,

“My dear Æneas, have you at length arrived! I have for a long time wished to see you. Virgil hath spoken very illy of you: he has published a history of our loves, which we knew nothing of: I have sought you among all the dead, without being able to find you; but I know, from your air, that you are Æneas; for, as you have been the greatest and most illustrious of heroes, so here you surpass all the dead in demeanour and beauty.”

As the surprise I felt at this unmerited compliment prevented answer, she continued to speak, and embraced me so vehemently, that I was compelled to cry out.

“Peace, there!” commanded the officer of the chamber, who was called Silence.

I still continued to bawl out; and said to Madame Dido, “O Queen of Carthage! will you not be undeceived? I am Don Francisco de Quevedo de Villegas, Chevalier of the order of Saint James!”

“Behold!” replied the queen, “behold this drunkard, who, being a Trojan, would fain pass himself off for a Spaniard! Go, pious Æneas; Virgil hath done thee no great wrong in describing thee as thou art. Where is thy Palladium? thy nurse? thy son Ascanias? where are thy companions? why are you here without attendants?”

“Be not disquieted,” said I: “address yourself to Charon; he would know you as well as Æneas, who abandoned you in Africa; that was a meet punishment for your prudery: but you have not yet been able to forget a man, who surrendered his native city to the Greeks, and fled from his ruined country. You are a victim of love!”

“And you,” said she, retiring, “are very credulous!”

The officer again commanded silence, and before I had time to add any thing more, I saw approaching a dead person of great size, with horns upon his head, and who ran towards me as though he was going to strike with them. I stretched out my arms to defend myself, and perceiving near me a large fork, that supported the tapestry, I took it in my hand, and firmly awaited his onset.

“Do you recognize,” said he, “Don Diego Moreno, whom you have called in your poems Signor Cornuto?”

“Yes,” replied I; “and to convince you, that I neither fear you, living nor dead, take in advance a blow with this fork;” and at that endeavoured to run him through, but his bones were too hard. Moreno then gave me a blow with his head, and casting himself upon me, threw me down: I stuck to his sides, inserting my fingers into the openings beneath the sternum, and as he arose, came up with him. This noise causing considerable confusion in the assembly, I saw coming upon me, a great number of the dead, armed in the same manner with Moreno; and as they pressed upon one another, each anxious to pass his neighbour, their bones made a very curious clicking. In the mean time, others marshalled themselves in front, to protect me from their assault.

During these transactions, Death sat upon her throne in silence, attentive only to the inscription of her subjects names; and as the secretaries happened to finish at a moment when there was a slight cessation in our tumult, the officer cried—

“Peace—listen!”

I seized this occasion to demand justice of the queen.

“I supplicate your sovereign majesty,” said I, “to do me justice on Diego Moreno, who has insulted me in this palace; striking me with his horns, knocking me down, and exciting against me the whole host of cuckolds.”

“What defence do you make to this accusation, Moreno?” asked the queen.

“Mighty and wan princess,” replied he, “behold the man who caused me to pass in the world as a Vulcan, or a faun: I have always lived pleasantly with my wife, never objecting to the French method, of receiving at her house priests, soldiers, lawyers, politicians, merchants, and strangers of every country. As the house had a great deal of good company, where nothing was wanting, although my wife was no expense to me, I found it very convenient; and because I profited by the follies of others, because I made that a part of my revenue, because I took advantage of my wife’s friends, to amass an estate for my children, the chevalier Quevedo derided me, rendering me ridiculous by his poems, and representing me as the prince of accommodating husbands; he called me a ram, and made me one of the signs of the zodiac: not content with that, he even comes hither, and strikes me with a fork. I demand that he should be retained here, and that he be put in a situation during his slumbers, that will effectually prevent his waking.”

“Which of the two began the affray?” said Death.

“It was I,” answered Moreno.

“We ordain then, that the name and memory of Moreno shall never be forgotten in Spain; that his grave shall be opened, and his compatriots, if any yet exist, shall make a pilgrimage, to render homage to his ashes.”

After that, they called over the names of the dead; and as they were called, they answered adsum, “I am here.” Hearing my own name pronounced, which was also that of my uncle and god-father, I answered, as the others, adsum; at which mistake Moreno taking advantage to laugh at me, I hit him a heavy blow with my fist upon his head; but I hurt myself more than him, for I almost broke my fingers. Moreno cast himself upon me; I stood firm, and thus we were again engaged in a new combat. They endeavoured to separate us, but I had entangled my hands in such a manner, in the bones of his arms, that I could not withdraw them; and as they pulled me on one side, and him on the other, it gave me such exquisite pain, that I awoke, happy and thankful to find myself in my bed. I reviewed in my mind all I had seen and heard, and which is here reported.

This vision made such a forcible impression upon my imagination, that I yet seem to behold the palace of death, the audience of the dead, and Moreno pouncing upon me: finally, I made many reflections upon what I had seen. It is but too true, that all mankind must die; that we are surrounded with constant peril; that there is but one thing that can insure a tranquil death, and that is, a blameless life. But to live well, one must often think of death. I believe the dream I have just rehearsed, was inspired by heaven; for otherwise I should hardly have thought upon my latter end, not even when my life was peculiarly exposed amidst wars and battle. At present, I reflect without ceasing; I have totally abandoned trifling and poetry, which are synonymous; and, thanks to God, have more satisfaction in reading books of devotion, than romances and histories.

THIRD NIGHT.
THE LAST JUDGMENT.

I have read in Homer, that dreams come from Jupiter; and that this cannot be doubted, especially when they regard things of importance. I verily believe those of kings and princes proceed from on high: but I will substitute the true God in place of Jupiter, who is but a fabulous divinity. The vision I had last year, could not have been derived from any other than a heavenly source. Behold the events that passed: I was reading the book of the blessed Hypolitus, which treats of the end of the world, and of the coming of God, to judge the quick and the dead, the just and the unjust. I fell asleep over this book, sitting in a large easy chair. All at once, I thought I saw a noble young man, of extraordinary beauty, flying through the air, having at his mouth a trumpet, that sounded far and wide. When he had made five or six great circuits, I perceived soldiers starting from their graves, full of courageous animation, thinking they heard the signal of battle. Upon the other hand, the misers started up, in terror, lest thieves had come to rob. The courtiers imagined that they enjoyed the agitations of the ring, or of a carousal. No one had the least idea that it announced the last judgment. I was strongly tempted to laugh at seeing the maimed, the one-eyed, the blind, seeking the one their arms or legs, and the other their eyes. I was equally amused, to perceive the clerks unwilling to resume their heads, the slanderers their tongues, and the old women their throats.

After all these had come forth, and arrived in an immense and smooth valley, very proper for so grand a spectacle, I saw appear people of every art and trade; likewise the men of letters, among whose ranks there appeared a very considerable embarrassment. Each community placed itself separately; each religion had also its sectaries apart: such as Christians, Jews, Mahometans, Pagans, Heretics, and Schismatics. All the people being classed and placed, a judge presented himself, accompanied by twelve counsellors, who seated themselves near his throne; beneath them were the prophets, in the capacity of advocates. Immediately a loud flourish of trumpets was heard, as if an army of cavalry approached, and legions of shining angels appeared, who poised themselves with their wings, above those men to whom they had been guardians. That done, the archangel Michael, came and placed himself at the foot of the throne, upon which the judge was seated, having in his hand a naked sword, and beneath his feet a prostrate devil, as he is represented in churches, and called the auditors each by his name.

Adam answered first; he was accused by his demon, with having eaten an apple, contrary to the commands of his God; with having neglected the gifts he had received at his creation; with having cast the blame upon his wife; with having had a bad son, and of other faults which I do not distinctly remember. But I very well recollect, that these reproaches produced such confusion in him, that he could answer nothing: his good angel answered for him; he confessed the matters of which his party was accused; he set forth the excess and duration of his penitence; the agonies he had suffered from the decree that involved his posterity, the goods which God had seen born of his sin; in fine, he pleaded with such ability, that his client was acquitted.

When they called Judas, Herod, and Pilate, their crimes were so glaring, that they could neither defend themselves, nor would any angel speak in their favour; and they were accordingly condemned. After them, were examined the most noted heretics, and neither could they obtain pardon.

Presently there appeared a number of pagan philosophers, among whom, I distinguished the seven sages of Greece, with Plato, Zeno, Socrates, Aristotle, and others: there were also Mercury, Trismegistus, an Egyptian, Sanconianthon, a Phenician, and Confucius, a Chinese. The majority of these avowed, that they had adored no other than the true God. The judge demanded, if they had given him all the glory, and rendered to him all the honour that was his due. They answered nothing, and were not exculpated.

The corps of artists next presented themselves: some of them were justified, but by far the greatest part were condemned for larcenies, frauds, surprises, and infidelities.

The men of letters then had their turn: many of them were charged with having taught and written contrary to their real opinions. The poets made every one laugh, on asserting, that when they spoke of Jupiter, of gods and goddesses, they meant the true God, saints, and saintesses: that they had never seriously deified the king of Candia, nor the first king of Egypt, nor the queens of Cyprus and Sicily; that if these people had become idolaters, they ought to take the blame upon themselves. Virgil in particular, was examined very minutely upon that passage of his poems, where he invokes the Sicilian muses: he pretended to have spoken of the birth of the Messiah; but he was answered that he must then have been in the soul of the Son of Pollio. Orpheus was accused by the ladies of Thrace, because he had taught men a love that did not concern them.

The clerks, lawyers, and constables, applied to Saint Ives de Chartres, to plead their cause; but he refused, saying, he had never been a robber, but had always pursued the cause of truth and justice, and that they had not acted in that manner. The devils also accusing them of having often been corrupted by presents, and the solicitations of women; few among them escaped.

After these, the physicians, surgeons, and apothecaries, were brought forward: they justified themselves by the authority of Hippocrates, Galen, and Paracelsus; but those whom they summoned, mocked at them, and their allegations. “And who are they,” demanded those eminent physicians, “who have cited us, and presume to shelter themselves behind our example?” The unhappy accused then sought the assistance of their two saints, Come and Damiens; but they refused to defend homicides, and judgment of condemnation was accordingly pronounced.

As it is out of my power to follow all the judgments in their order, I shall report only those that appeared most worthy of note. A fencing master, being unwilling to approach the bar, an angel extended his arm to seize him; but the master, throwing himself into an attitude, made a fanciful push towards the angel, telling him at the same time, that from such a thrust with the small sword, he would have received a mortal wound; that all those who had taken lessons of him, never failed to kill their man, and that he himself had always been victorious, till he met with his physician. At last, constrained by force, he was brought forward and convicted of all the homicides committed by his scholars, who, confident in their skill, had often sought quarrels, for the purpose of putting their theory in practice. For these offences it was decreed that he should go into hell in a perpendicular line. “Zounds,” said the master, “I will go as I may, but not in a perpendicular line; I am not a mathematician.” “How,” said the angel, “do you wish to go?” “In making leaps backward before the mouth of hell.” “Not quite so much subtlety,” said the devil; “I will make you obedient;” and he carried him into the abyss, that was at the extremity of the valley.

This man gave place to a great astrologer, whom his angel endeavoured to bring before the tribunal: he was loaded with almanacs, globes, spheres, astrolabes, compasses, quadrants, rules, and papers, filled with astronomical calculations. “You are mistaken,” said he to the angel; “the last judgment has not yet arrived, because the constellation of Saturn, and that of fear, have not yet finished their courses; it ought not to arrive in less than twenty-four thousand years; for God hath not created the universe and the celestial globes, not to permit them to finish their journeys; and there is yet no appearance of an union of the sun and stars, to set fire to the world, as must necessarily happen at the last day. I appeal, then, in advance, against all other judgments.” “March,” said the devil, “or I shall carry you.” “Carry me,” said the astronomer, “into the kingdom of the moon; I will reward you well; I am curious to see those beautiful countries, we discover with our telescopes; the countries of Galileo, of Copernicus, of Tycho Brahe, and other celebrated astronomers, who are gone to dwell in the moon, and who have bestowed their names upon those regions they inhabit.” The discourse of this fool, did not prevent an accusation before the judge, of irreligion, superstition, and other vices which he could not dispute.

I then saw an operator, who, imagining himself to be in a proper place for vending his drugs, praised the properties of his orrietan, and the virtues of his counter-poisons. When he came before his judges, he was desirous of trying some experiments, and demanded if he should use realgal, arsenic, or the blood of toads and spiders. The devil, who stood at his side, asked him if he had any fire ointment. “How,” said he, “are you in want?” “It is yourself that will soon need it,” answered the devil; “because you have cheated so many people with your lies and knaveries.” He was confounded at this discourse, and was led away to hell.

When they were close by, he said to the devil, “I perceive the jest; you keep here the feast of Peter; I am not so much alarmed as you think: let us go, let us go,” said he, entering into hell, “let us go and see Don Peter.”

There then came a troop of tailors, the chief one of whom diverted me much: he had a pair of scissors in his hand, and a long slip of parchment, with which he took measure for garments. Perceiving me, he stepped up and proposed to make me a coat in the French fashion: I assured him that I had no need of such a garment; but he ran round me, insisting upon taking my measure. I observed that it was then no time to transact such business; that he was before his judge, and had better invoke his guardian angel: but the angel advised him to plead his own cause, as he could not conscientiously defend a case so obvious. “Signor,” answered the tailor, “I engage to give you a suit every year, gratis; for it is doubtless for lack of tailors, that you angels go always naked.” “Without dispute;” replied the angel, “for there is not a single tailor in heaven.” “Very well,” resumed the tailor; “I go then in person, to defend myself and brethren. We have never stolen more stuff than we could put into our eyes; we threw the useless pieces into the street; we have always measured the trimmings of gold and silver, after finishing the suit, and took no more than was absolutely necessary. As to the rest, our trade is one inculcating mercy; to clothe the naked, and furnish a defence from the cold; meritoriously following the gospel precept: thus have we acted, besides suffering patiently the prejudice the embroiderers have done us in making the habits of the church. I demand that Saint Martin, archbishop of Tours, who gave the moiety of his mantle to a poor beggar, should be heard in our behalf.” “Saint Martin,” said one of the angels, “hath never been the protector of tailors; and so far would he be from defending you, that he would condemn you.” “Ah! well,” said the tailor, “oblige us by being yourself our interlocutor.” “I consent,” replied he, “and will quickly expose the tricks of your trade: the tailors have in their shops a private drawer, which they call the eye; and it is there they deposit what they steal. The under part of their table and its immediate neighbourhood, they call the street; and here they cast the superfluous stuffs: so when this master cheat asserted, he had never stolen more than might have been contained in his eye, or that he threw into the street the waste pieces of cloth, or stuff, it was equivalent to saying, that, he had never taken more than might be put into his drawer, or beneath his table. As to the trimmings of gold and silver, it is true, they are measured upon the garment, but then it is found after the chain of binding is cut, that it stretches very easily. When he said that his trade was merciful and charitable, he spoke the truth, if these are the attributes of thieves: but I demand, if, without pillaging cloth, they could ornament chambers with rich tapestry, build fine houses, give portions to their daughters, bear the extravagancies of their children, give sumptuous entertainments, and enjoy all the luxuries of life?” “No, no,” simultaneously exclaimed the whole assembly. The corps of tailors was accordingly condemned, and they were precipitated into the abyss.

When all the judgments had been pronounced, the judge, his counsellors, the angels, and the elect, launched forth into the air, and ascended to heaven, amid an harmonious concert of trumpets, and other instruments. Those who remained in the valley, and had not been sent to hell, were in despair, because they were not able to follow the array of the blessed. When the celestial throng had wholly disappeared, a most horrid tumult ensued: the planets fell from their orbits, the mountains came together with dreadful washings, the earth gaped, and all who remained fell into the abyss, uttering such piercing shrieks that I was seized with terror. I awoke, and felt the most lively pleasure to find myself out of danger. I reflected afterwards upon the multitude of the guilty, and the small number adjudged innocent. Oh, how necessary it is, that all the living should experience a similar vision, that they might be witnesses of the disorder, of the despair, and torments of the damned. It would suffice also to exemplify the piteous confusion, which can neither be expressed nor comprehended, that will not fail to happen at the last day. I am not now surprised that the Israelites, at the foot of Mount Sinai, could not endure the noise of the thunder that resounded from its summit.

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.”