“But you said something e’en now of magistrates, I hope,” said I, “there are no judges in hell.” “You may as well imagine,” cried the spirit, “that there are no devils there; for let me tell you (friend mine) your corrupt judges are the great spawners that supply our lake; for what are those millions of catchpoles, proctors, attorneys, clerks, barristers, that come sailing to us every day in shoals, but the fry of such judges! Nay sometimes, in a lucky year, for cheating, forging, and forswearing, we can hardly find cask to put them in.”
“From hence now,” quoth I, “would you infer, that there’s no justice upon the face of the earth.” “Very right,” quoth the devil, “for Astræa (which is the same thing) is fled long since to heaven. Do not ye know the story?” “No,” said I. “Then,” quoth the devil, “mind me and I’ll tell ye it.
“Once upon a time Truth and Justice came together to take up their quarters upon the earth: but the one being naked, and the other very severe and plain-dealing, they could not meet with anybody that would receive them. At last, when they had wandered a long time like vagabonds in the open air, Truth was glad to take up her lodging with a mute; and Justice, perceiving that though her name was much used for a cloak to knavery, yet that she herself was in no esteem, took up a resolution of returning to heaven: and in order to her journey, she bade adieu in the first place to all courts, palaces, and great cities, and went into the country, where she met with some few poor simple cottagers, that gave her entertainment; but malice and persecution found her out in the end, and she was banished thence too. She presented herself in many places, and people asked her what she was? She answered them, ‘Justice,’ for she would not lie for the matter. ‘Justice?’ cried they, ‘she is a stranger to us; tell her here’s nothing for her,’ and shut the door. Upon these repulses, she took wing, and away she went to heaven, hardly leaving so much as the bare print of her footsteps behind her. Her name however is not yet forgotten, and she’s pictured with a sceptre in her hand, and is still called Justice; but call her what ye will, she makes as good a fire in hell as a tailor; and for sleight of hand, puts down all the gilts, cheats, picklocks, and trepanners in the world: to say the truth, avarice is grown to that height, that men employ all the faculties of soul and body to rob and deceive. The lecher, does not he steal away the honour of his mistress? (though with her consent). The attorney picks your pocket, and shows you a law for’t; the comedian gets your money and your time, with reciting other men’s labours; the lover cozens you with his eyes; the eloquent, with his tongue; the valiant, with his arm; the musician, with his voice and fingers; the astrologer, with his calculations; the apothecary, with sickness and health; the surgeon, with blood; and the physician, with death itself; and in some sort or other, they are all cheats; but the catchpole (in the name of justice) abuses you with his whole man; he watches you with his eyes; follows you with his feet; seizes with his hands; accuses with his tongue; and in fine, put it in your litany, from catchpoles, as well as devils, libera nos domine.”
“But how comes it,” said I, “that you have not coupled the women with the thieves? for they are both of a trade.” “Not a word of women as ye love me,” quoth the devil, “for we are so tired out with their importunities; so deafened with the eternal clack of their tongues, that we start at the very thought of them. And to say the truth, hell were no ill winter quarter, if it were not so overstocked with that sort of cattle. Since the death of the Witch of Endor, it has been all their business to improve themselves in subtlety and malice, and to set us together by the ears among ourselves. Nay some of them are confident enough, to tell us to our teeth, that when we have done our worst, they’ll give us a Rowland for our Oliver. Only this comfort we have, that they are a cheaper plague to us, than they are to you; for we have no Exchanges, Hyde Parks, or Spring Gardens in our territories.”
“You are well stored then with women, I see, but of which have you most?” said I, “handsome, or ill-favoured?” “Oh, of the ill-favoured, six for one,” quoth the devil, “for your beauties can never want gallants to lay their appetites; and many of them, when they come at last to have their bellies full, e’en give over the sport, repent and ’scape. Whereas nobody will touch the ill-favoured without a pair of tongs; and for want of water to quench their fire, they come to us such skeletons, that they are enough to affright the devil himself. For they are most commonly, old, and accompany their last groans with a curse upon the younger that are to survive them. I carried away one t’other day of threescore and ten, that I took just in the nick, as she was upon a certain exercise to remove obstructions: and when I came to land her, alas for the poor woman! what a terrible fit had she got of the toothache! when upon search, the devil a tooth had she left in her head, only she belied her chops to save her credit.”
“You have exceedingly satisfied me,” said I, “in all your answers; but pray’e once again, what store of beggars have ye in hell? Poor people I mean.” “Poor,” quoth the devil, “who are they?” “Those,” said I, “that have no possessions in the world.” “How can that be,” quoth he, “that those should be damned, that have nothing in the world? when men are only damned for cleaving to’t. And briefly I find none of their names in our books, which is no wonder, for he that has nothing to trust to, shall be left by the devil himself in time of need. To deal plainly with you, where have you greater devils than your flatterers, false friends, lewd company, envious persons, than a son, a brother, or a relation, that lies in wait for your life to get your fortune, that mourns over you in your sickness, and wishes you already at the devil. Now the poor have none of this; they are neither flattered, nor envied, nor befriended, nor accompanied: there’s no gaping for their possessions; and in short, they are a sort of people that live well, and die better; and there are some of them, that would not exchange their rags for royalty itself: they are at liberty to go and come at pleasure, be it war or peace; free from cares, taxes, and public duties. They fear no judgments or executions, but live as inviolable as if their persons were sacred. Moreover they take no thoughts for tomorrow, but setting a just value on their hours, they are good husbands of the present; considering that what is past, is as good as dead, and what’s to come, uncertain. But they say, ‘When the devil preaches, the world’s near an end.’”
“The Divine Hand is in this,” said the holy man that performed the exorcism, “thou art the father of lies, and yet deliverest truths able to mollify and convert a heart of stone.” “But do not you mistake yourself,” quoth the devil, “to suppose that your conversion is my business; for I speak these truths to aggravate your guilt, and that you may not plead ignorance another day, when you shall be called to answer for your transgressions. ’Tis true, most of you shed tears at parting, but ’tis the apprehension of death, and no true repentance for your sins that works upon you: for ye are all a pack of hypocrites: or if at any time you entertain those reflections, your trouble is, that your body will not hold out; and then forsooth ye pretend to pick a quarrel with the sin itself.” “Thou art an impostor,” said the religious, “for there are many righteous souls, that draw their sorrow from another fountain. But I perceive you have a mind to amuse us, and make us lose time, and perchance your own hour is not yet come to quit the body of this miserable creature; however, I conjure thee in the name of the Most High to leave tormenting him, and to hold thy peace.” The devil obeyed; and the good Father applying himself to us, “My masters,” says he, “though I am absolutely of opinion that it is the devil that has talked to us all this while through the organ of this unhappy wretch, yet he that well weighs what has been said, may doubtless reap some benefit by the discourse. Wherefore without considering whence it came; remember, that Saul (although a wicked prince) prophesied; and that honey has been drawn out of the mouth of a lion. Withdraw then, and I shall make it my prayer (as ’tis my hope) that this sad and prodigious spectacle may lead you to a true sight of your errors, and, in the end, to amendment of life.”
THE END OF THE FIRST VISION
THE SECOND VISION OF DEATH AND HER EMPIRE
Mean souls do naturally breed sad thoughts, and in solitude, they gather together in troops to assault the unfortunate; which is the trial (according to my observation) wherein the coward does most betray himself; and yet cannot I for my life, when I am alone, avoid those accidents and surprises in myself, which I condemn in others. I have sometime, upon reading the grave and severe Lucretius, been seized with a strange damp; whether from the striking of his counsels upon my passions, or some tacit reflection of shame upon myself, I know not. However, to render this confession of my weakness the more excusable, I’ll begin my discourse with somewhat out of that elegant and excellent poet.