palaces, into the horrible void; an enormous country it was, exceedingly deep and dark—without order and without inhabitants—now hot, now cold—sometimes silent, sometimes noisy, with the sound caused by cataracts of water tumbling upon the flames and extinguishing them; which cataracts, however, did not long continue, for presently might be seen a puff of fire bursting out and consuming the water. There was here no course, nor whole, nothing living, nothing shapely; but a giddy discord and an amazing darkness which would have blinded me for ever, if my companion had not again displayed his heavenly garment of splendour. By the light which it cast I could see the country of Oblivion, and the edges of the wilds of Destruction in front, on the left hand; and on the right the lowest skirts apparently of the walls of Glory. “Behold the great gulf between Abraham and Dives,” said my guide, “which is termed the place of Chaos. It is the region of the elements which God created first; it is the place wherein are the seeds of every living thing, from which the Almighty word made your world and all that therein is—water, fire, air, earth, animals, fishes and creeping things, winged birds, and human bodies, but not your souls, for they are of an origin and generation higher and more exalted.” Through the vast, frightful place of Chaos we at length broke out to the left hand, and before travelling any distance there, where every thing was ever becoming more frightful, I could feel my heart at the top of my throat, and my hair standing like the prickles of the hedge-hog, even before seeing any thing; but when I did see—oh! spectacle too much for tongue to relate, or for the spirit of man to behold. I fainted. Oh, the amazing and monstrous abyss, opening in a horrible manner into the other world! Oh, the
continual crackling of the terrible flames, darting over the sides of the accursed precipice, and the flashes of linked lightning rending the black, thick smoke, which the unsightly orifice was casting up! My dear companion, having brought me to myself again, gave me some spiritual water to drink; O how excellent it was in its taste and color! After drinking of the heavenly water, I could feel a wonderful strength diffusing itself through me, bringing with it sense, heart, faith, and various other heavenly virtues. By this time I had approached with him unterrified to the edge of the steep, enveloped in the veil, the flames parting on both sides and avoiding us, not daring to come in contact with the inhabitants of the supreme abodes. Then from the summit of the terrific precipice we darted down, like two stars falling from the firmament of heaven, a thousand million of miles, over many a brimstone crag, and many a furious, ugly cataract and glowing precipice, every thing that we passed looking always frowningly downward; yet every thing noxious avoided us, except once, when having thrust my nose out of the veil, I was struck by such a suffocating, strangling exhalation as would have put an end to me, if my guide had not instantly assisted me with the water of life. By the time that I had recovered, I perceived that we had arrived at a kind of standing place; for in all this loathsome chasm it was impossible to obtain any rest before, owing to the steepness and slipperiness of its sides. There my guide permitted me to take some further rest; and during this respite, it happened that the thunders and the hoarse whirlwinds became silent for a little while, and in spite of the din of the raging cataracts, I heard from afar a sound louder than the whole—a sound of horrible harsh voices, of shouting, bellowing, and strong groans,
swearing, cursing, and blaspheming, till I would have consented to part with mine ears, that I might not hear. Ere we moved a foot farther, we could hear a terrible tumbling sound, and if we had not suddenly slipped aside, hundreds of unfortunate men would have fallen upon us, who were coming headlong, in excessive hurry, to take possession of their bad purchase, with a host of devils driving them. “O, sir,” said one devil, “take it easy, lest you should ruffle your curling locks. Madam, do you wish for an easy cushion? I am afraid that you will be out of all order by the time you come to your couch,” said he to another.
The strangers were exceedingly averse to going forward, insisting that they were out of their road; but notwithstanding all they could say, go they did, and we behind them, to a black flood of great magnitude, and through it they went, and we across it, my companion holding the celestial water continually to my nostrils, to strengthen me against the stench of the river, and against the time when I should see some of the inhabitants of the place, for hitherto I had not beheld so much as one devil, though I had heard the voices of many. “Pray, my lord,” said I, “what is the name of this putrid river?” “The river of the Fiend,” said he, “in which all his subjects are bathed, in order that they may be rendered fit for the country. For this accursed water changes their countenance, and washes away from them every relic of goodness, every semblance of hope and of comfort.” And, indeed, on gazing upon the host after it had come through, I could distinguish no difference in deformity between the devils and the damned. Some of the latter would fain have sculked at the bottom of the river, and have lain there to all eternity, in a state of strangulation, lest they should get a worse bed father
on; but here the proverb was verified, that “he must needs run whom the Devil drives,” for with the devils behind, the damned were compelled to go forward unto the beach, to their eternal damnation; where I at the first glance saw more pains and torments than the heart of man can imagine or the tongue relate; a single one of which was sufficient to make the hair stand erect, the blood to freeze, the flesh to melt, the bones to drop from their places—yea, the spirit to faint. What is empaling or sawing men alive, tearing off the flesh piecemeal with iron pincers, or broiling the flesh with candles, collop fashion, or squeezing heads flat in a vice, and all the most shocking devices which ever were upon earth, compared with one of these? Mere pastime! Here were a hundred thousand shoutings, hoarse sighs, and strong groans; yonder a boisterous wailing and horrible outcry answering them, and the howling of a dog is sweet, delicious music, when compared with these sounds. When we had proceeded a little way onward from the accursed beach, towards the wild place of Damnation, I perceived, by their own light, innumerable men and women here and there; and devils without number and without rest, incessantly employing their strength in tormenting. Yes, there they were, devils and damned, the devils roaring with their own torments, and making the damned roar, by means of the torments which they inflicted upon them. I paid particular observation to the corner which was nearest me. There I beheld the devils with pitch-forks, tossing the damned up into the air, that they might fall headlong on poisoned hatchels or barbed pikes, there to wriggle their bowels out. After a time the wretches would crawl in multitudes, one upon another, to the top of one of the burning crags, there to be broiled like mutton; from there
they would be snatched afar, to the top of one of the mountains of eternal frost and snow, where they would be allowed to shiver for a time; thence they would be precipitated into a loathsome pool of boiling brimstone, to wallow there in conflagration, smoke, and the suffocation of horrible stench; from the pool they would be driven to the marsh of Hell that they might embrace and be embraced by its reptiles many times worse than serpents and vipers; after allowing them half an hour’s dalliance with these creatures, the devils would seize a bundle of rods of steel, fiery hot from the furnace, and would scourge them till their howlings, caused by the horrible inexpressible pain which they endured, would fill the vast abode of darkness, and when the fiends deemed that they had scourged them enough, they would take hot irons and sear their bloody wounds.
There was here no fainting, nor swooning to evade a moment of suffering, but a continual strength to suffer and to feel, though you would have imagined after one horrible cry, that it would be utterly impossible there should be strength remaining to give another cry so frightfully loud; the damned never lowered their key, and the devils kept replying, “behold your welcome for ever and ever.” And it almost seemed that the sauciness and bitterness of the devils, in jeering and mocking their victims, were worse to bear than the pain itself. What was worst of all, their conscience was at present utterly aroused, and was tearing them worse than a thousand of the infernal lions. We proceeded farther and farther downward, and the farther we proceeded, the more horrible was the work which was going on; the first place we came to in our progress was a frightful prison, in which were many human beings under the scourge of the devils, shrieking most
shockingly. “What place is this?” said I. “That,” said the angel, “is the couch of those who cry ‘woe is me that I did not—!’ Hark to them for a moment!” “Woe is me that I did not purify myself in time from every kind of sin!” says one. “Woe is me that I did not believe and repent before coming here!” says the other.
Next to the cell of too late repentance, and of debate after judgment had been passed, was the prison of the procrastinators, who would be every time promising amendment, without ever fulfilling their promise. “When this business is over,” says one, “I will turn over another leaf.” “When this obstacle is removed, I will become a new man yet,” says the other. But when the obstacle is removed, they are not a bit the nearer to reformation, for some other obstacle is always found to prevent them from moving towards the gate of Righteousness, and if they do sometimes move a little, they are sure to turn back. Next to this was the prison of vain confidence, full of those who, on being commanded to abstain from their luxuriousness, drunkenness, or avarice, would say, “God is merciful, and better than his word, and will not damn his creature for ever for so small a matter.” But here they were yelping forth blasphemy, and asking where is that mercy, which was boasted to be immeasurable. “Peace, hell-dogs,” at length said a great lobster of a devil who was hearing them, “peace! would you have mercy without doing any thing to obtain it? Would you have the Truth render his word false, for the sake of obtaining the company of such filthy dross as you? Too much mercy has been shown to you already. You were given a Saviour, a comforter, and the apostles, with books, sermons, and good examples, and will you never cease to deafen us with bawling about mercy, where
mercy has never been?” On going out from this fiery gulf, I could hear one puffing and shouting terribly, “I knew no better, nothing was ever expended in teaching me my duty, and I could never find time to read or pray, because I was obliged to earn bread for myself and my poor family.” “Aye,” said a little crooked devil who stood by, “and did you never find time to tell pleasant stories?—no leisure for self vaunting during long winter evenings when I was in the chimney corner? Now, why did you not devote some of that time to learning to read and pray? Who on Sundays used to come with me to the tavern, instead of going with the parson to church? Who devoted many a Sunday afternoon to vain prating about worldly things, or to sleep, instead of meditation and prayer? And have ye merely acted according to your knowledge and your opportunities? Peace, sirrah, with your lying nonsense!” “O thou blood of a mad dog!” said the lost man, “it is not long since you were whispering something very different into my ear, if you had said that the other day, I should scarcely have come here.” “O,” said the devil, “we do not mind telling you the bitter truth here, since we need not fear that you will go back to tell tales.”