The Penguin Book of Hell

by Scott G. Bruce

  PREACHING PAIN1

  Although it drew on a long tradition of monastic visionary literature, Honorius of Autun’s Elucidarium achieved unexpected success as a tool for teaching the fear of Hell to laymen and -women. The impact of this catechetical handbook was rapid and widespread. In the later twelfth century, we can chart the influence of its litany of the nine torments of Hell in monastic sermons and scholastic treatises, but its reach extended beyond the cloister as well. The Elucidarium also inspired the author of a contemporary tract called Treatise concerning the Principal Mysteries of our Religion (Tractatus de praecipuis mysteriis nostrae religionis), which concluded with a chapter on the nine torments that borrowed heavily from Honorius’s work. This short text was a manual of Christian teaching composed for the use of parish priests, who were expected to memorize its contents and redeploy them as adornment for their sermons to their lay parishioners. In this way, the centuries-old tradition of monastic storytelling about the horrors of Hell began to trickle down to ordinary Christians. Transmitted in clear and simple language in sermons preached in towns and villages, the fear of infernal punishment slowly infiltrated the hearts and minds of western Europeans.

  Hell offers nine torments worthy of notice, as authoritative sources attest, setting aside the innumerable other torments that are in place to restrain evil: “Hammer and stench, with worms, fire and frost, visions of demons, darkness, shame, fiery chains.”2 In Hell there will be a fire that does not go out, cold without compare, undying worms, an intolerable stench, hammers striking repeatedly, a thick and palpable darkness; where chaos and an everlasting horror dwell, where all of the crimes of everyone are apparent to anyone; the faces of demons, which seem to spark like fire, compared to which nothing in the world is more frightening and terrifying; chains of fire restraining every limb; the heat there is so great, I say, that all of the rivers collected into one could not extinguish it. According to Matthew, “There will be wailing and the gnashing of teeth.”3 For the smoke from the fire coaxes tears from the eyes; the cold causes the teeth to grind. If a mountain of fire was placed there, it would turn into ice. The wretched wander through, assigned to these miseries. One moment [they flee] from the heat to the cold, the next from the cold to the heat, seeking relief from these opposing pains with their contrasting qualities, no less tormented all the same. Because of this, Job said, “They will pass from the cold of the snows to the excessive heat.”4

  There are worms there that never die, serpents and dragons, repulsive to see and hear, which live in the flames like fish in water; they afflict the wretched, especially when they crawl on them and gnaw their limbs, waging war on their sins, attacking the genitals of the self-indulgent, the mouth and throat of the gluttonous, and likewise concerning the remaining parts of the body. Thus, according to the Wisdom of Solomon, “By which thing a man sins, by this also he is tortured.”5 And according to Isaiah, “Their worm will not die and their fire will not be extinguished.”6 The fire produces a heavy stench, which torments no less than the heat. According to Isaiah once more, “Instead of a sweet smell, there will be a stench.”7 And the psalm, “Fire, sulfur, the wind of storms will be the measure of their cup.”8 The wind of storms calls forth the exhalation of smoke and stench, which rises from the fire with vehemence in the likeness of storms. The wretched ones are struck repeatedly by hammering blows, by demons compelling them to confess their sins, for here in the world demons are the inciters of evil, but there they are the tormentors of the wicked. As Solomon says, “Torments have been prepared for the mockers.”9 For the demons widen their mouths over the wretched ones, shouting with wild laughter, “Well done, well done! Our eyes have seen it”10 because the sinners have neglected the nine orders of angels.

  THREE TALES OF TORMENT1

  By the thirteenth century, monastic authors told tales about the torments of Hell not only for their own benefit but also for the benefit of men and women of all stations in life. One of the most widely read storytellers in this period was the Cistercian author Caesarius of Heisterbach (c. 1180–1240), who included many anecdotes about Hell in his Dialogue on Miracles. Presented as a conversation between a monastic teacher and his disciple, Caesarius’s massive compendium of more than seven hundred tales provided vivid examples of the eternal consequences of evil behavior. He devoted the second book of his Dialogue to stories about conversion. There he included three anecdotes about unsavory individuals who converted to the monastic life after witnessing the torments of Hell. The first concerned a student who made an agreement with the Devil to obtain all worldly knowledge. The second involved a pact between two sorcerers who employed dark magic to speak with the dead. And the third implicated a necromancer, who journeyed to Hell to investigate the fate of a local ruler and returned shaken and repentant. In each case, the fear of eternal torment caused these individuals to join the Cistercian order as the surest way to avoid the fate of the wicked.

  CONCERNING THE CONVERSION OF AN ABBOT OF MORIMOND, WHO DIED AND CAME BACK TO LIFE.

  Twenty-four years ago, there was an abbot of Morimond, who entered the Cistercian order out of necessity. What I am going to tell you about him I learned from the report of Lord Herman, the abbot of Marienstatt, who saw the same abbot, heard him speak, and examined the actions of this man attentively, as one who had died and come back to life.

  When he was a young man, this abbot studied in Paris with other scholars. Since he had a stubborn intellect and a shoddy memory, so much so that he could barely understand or remember anything, everyone laughed at him and thought that he was an idiot. Because of this, he became upset and his heart was afflicted with many sorrows. It happened that he was sick one day and, behold, Satan appeared and said to him, “Do you wish to do me homage and I will give to you in return knowledge of all learning?” Hearing this, the young man was afraid and responded to the devil’s suggestion, “Get behind me, Satan, for you will never be my lord nor will I ever be your man.”2 And when he did not give in, Satan opened the hand of this young man with force and placing a stone on it, he said, “As long as you keep this stone clenched in your hand, you will know everything.” When the devil departed, the young man rose, went back to school, raised questions, and surpassed everyone in disputation. Everyone was amazed at the breadth of knowledge, the degree of eloquence, the unexpected change of this idiot. But he kept his secret safe and revealed to no one the source of his knowledge. Not long after, he fell badly ill and a priest was summoned to hear his confession. Among his other sins, the young man confessed how he had received the stone from the devil and with the stone, his unrivalled knowledge. The priest responded, “Throw this device of the devil away, poor boy, or you will never know the knowledge of God.” Terrified, he cast away the stone he was holding in his hand and with the stone, his false knowledge. What more?

  The young man died, and his body was placed in the church, where all of the scholars stood around his bier to sing the psalms according to Christian custom. But demons snatched his soul and carried it to a valley that was deep, awful, and pouring forth a sulfurous smoke. There they marshalled themselves on either side of the valley. The demons on one side hurled his poor soul as though playing a game of ball; the demons on the other side caught his soul in their hands as it flew through the air. Their claws were so very sharp that they far surpassed the sharpest needle and any point of steel. He was so tormented by these claws when they hurled him and caught him that, as he later said, no form of torture could be compared to this agony.

  The Lord had mercy on him and sent—I know not how—a heavenly figure, a man inspiring great awe, who bore this message to the demons: “Listen, the Most High commands you to release this soul that has been deceived by you.” At once, they released the soul and retreated, not daring to touch him anymore. The soul returned to his body, revived its dead limbs, and rose up alive, terrifying the scholars in attendance, who fled away. Climbing down from the bier, he explained that he was alive, and made plain more
with his actions than his words what he had seen and what he had heard. For he immediately joined the Cistercian order and was very strict with himself, a harsh punisher of his own body, so that everyone who saw him understood that he had experienced the pains of Purgatory, or rather, of Hell itself.

  NOVICE: Can you explain to me whether this place where he was tormented was within the bounds of Hell or of Purgatory?

  MONK: If that valley belonged to Hell, then he made his confession without contrition. And this is clear enough from the fact that, by the testimony of the heavenly messenger, he endured that great punishment because he had consented to keep the Devil’s stone.

  CONCERNING A DEAD CLERIC WHO HAD PRACTICED NECROMANCY AND APPEARED TO A LIVING COMPANION TO URGE HIM TO ENTER THE CISTERCIAN ORDER.

  As I learned by reading rather than direct report, there were two young men who studied necromancy together in Toledo. It happened that one of them became gravely ill. When he was about to die, his companion asked him to appear to him within twenty days and he promised to do so, if he was able. Then one day, while he was sitting in the church in the presence of an image of the blessed Virgin and reading the psalms for the soul of his friend, that wretched soul appeared, bearing witness to its torments with the most pitiful groans. When his friend had asked him where he was and how he fared, he responded, “Woe to me, for I am eternally damned because of the diabolical art that I learned, for it is the true death of the soul, as its name shows.3 I advise you as my only friend to abandon this accursed knowledge and to make amends with God for your sins by adopting the religious life.” When the living man asked him to show him the safest way to live, he replied again, “There is no safer path than the Cistercian order, and among every kind of person, fewer descend to Hell than members of this order.” He related many other stories to him, which I have left out for the sake of brevity, the reason being that they have been written down in the book of the Visions of Clairvaux.4 That young man immediately renounced necromancy and became a novice and eventually a monk of the Cistercian order.

  NOVICE: I admit that the joy in my heart doubled at this story.

  MONK: “For in the mouth of two or three witnesses stands every word.”5 Do you wish to hear about a third cleric who was converted in a very similar way?

  NOVICE: Yes, very much so.

  CONCERNING A CLERIC, WHO JOINED THE ORDER AFTER WITNESSING THE TORMENTS OF THE LANDGRAVE LUDWIG.

  I learned what I am about to relate from a story often told to me by an old monk of ours named Conrad, who is now nearly one hundred years old. He was raised in Thuringia and trained in combat before his conversion [to the monastic life]. He knew a great deal about the deeds of the Landgrave Ludwig6 . . . When this man passed away, he left behind his two sons as his heirs, namely, Ludwig III, who died on the first expedition to Jerusalem, which happened in the time of Emperor Frederick [Barbarossa, Holy Roman Emperor 1155–90], and Herman, who succeeded his father as landgrave and died only recently. Ludwig III was truly a reasonable and cultured man and, to tell the truth, less evil than many tyrants. He put forth a proclamation, in which he said, “If there is anyone who can tell me the truth with proven evidence about the soul of my father, he will receive from me a good homestead.”

  A poor knight heard this proclamation. He had as a brother a cleric who practiced necromancy for profit, to whom he pointed out the proclamation of the prince. The cleric responded, “Good brother, I used to summon the Devil at times through incantations; I learned from him whatever I wished, but for a long time now I have renounced all commerce with him and the skills that made it possible.” When the knight insisted again and again, reminding him of their poverty and the promised reward, overcome by his requests at last, the cleric summoned the demon. When it appeared, it asked what he wanted. The cleric responded, “I regret that I have been out of touch with you for so long. Tell me, I pray, where the soul of my lord the Landgrave resides.” The demon said, “If you will accompany me, I will show him to you.” And the cleric answered, “I would like to see him, if I can do so without any danger to my life.” The demon said, “I swear to you by the Most High and by his awful judgment that if you commit yourself to my care, I will lead you there unharmed and return you back here in the same condition.” For his brother’s sake, the cleric placed his soul in the demon’s hands and climbed on its neck. In a short time, it placed him before the gates of Hell. Peering in, the cleric observed places too horrible to mention and all kinds of different punishments, and a demon, terrifying to behold, crouching over a covered pit. When he saw these things, the cleric trembled all over. That demon called out to the demon who was carrying him, “Who is that on your shoulders? Bring him over here.” To whom it responded, “He is a friend of ours, and I have sworn to him by your great powers not to hurt him, but to show him the soul of his lord the Landgrave, and to return him safe and sound so that he can proclaim to everyone your great power.”

  Immediately that demon removed the fiery lid, on which he was crouching. Putting a bronze trumpet into the pit, the demon blew so hard that it seemed to the cleric that the entire world resounded with the sound. After what seemed to him like a very long hour, while the pit belched forth sulfurous flames, the Landgrave rose amid the drifting sparks and thrust forth his head as far as his neck, so that he could see the cleric, and said, “Behold, here I am, the wretched Landgrave, once your lord, and would that I was never born.” The cleric replied, “I have been sent by your son to report back to him about your current state. If you can in any way be helped, please tell me.” The Landgrave responded, “You can see clearly my current state, but know this, that if my sons can restore certain possessions of particular churches, which I usurped unjustly and left for them as their inheritance”—he told the cleric the names of the possessions and churches—“they will confer a great benefit on my soul.” The cleric said, “Lord, they will not believe me.” He replied, “I will share with you a sign that no one knows except for me and my sons.” Once the sign had been imparted and the Landgrave was once more submerged in the pit, the cleric was returned by the demon. He did not lose his life, but he returned pale and weak, a shadow of his former self.

  The cleric brought the Landgrave’s message to his sons and showed them the sign, but it profited the Landgrave very little, for they had no desire to restore the possessions to their rightful owners. Nevertheless, the current Landgrave Ludwig III said to the cleric, “I recognize the sign and I do not doubt that you have seen my father, so I do not refuse to grant to you the promised reward.” The cleric replied, “Lord, let your homestead remain in your hands; I will think now about what is best for my soul.” Leaving everything behind, he became a monk of the Cistercian order, enduring every earthly labor if only to avoid eternal damnation. Behold, you have three examples of people who converted [to the monastic life] out of fear or the sight of hellish punishments!

  WARNINGS FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE1

  The twelfth and final book of Caesarius’s Dialogue narrated stories about the punishment and glory of the dead: “As the eleventh hour draws to sunset, so does the twelfth hour bring it to a close. Now it is fitting that we should in the twelfth book treat the rewards of the dead, because when the day is ended, the laborers in the vineyard receive their pay.” More often than not, the dead received punishment as their “reward.” At the request of the novice, the master began with tales of the torments of the wicked and singled out tyrants, oppressors, usurers, adulterers, the proud, and anyone who had offended God and not repented. As these stories made plain, no human being, however lofty or holy their station in this world, can escape the judgment of God in the world to come.

  CONCERNING THE PUNISHMENT OF LUDWIG THE LANDGRAVE.

  Ludwig the Landgrave was a terrible tyrant, concerning whom I spoke about above in the thirty-fourth chapter of Book One.2 When he was about to die, he gave this order to his friends: “As soon as I die, dress me in the cowl of the Cistercian order and
be very careful that you do not do this to me while I am still alive.” His friends obeyed; he died and was dressed in a cowl. When a knight saw him like this, he said to his companions with irony, “Truly, this does not look like my lord in all of his power. When he was a knight, he had no equal in combat; now that he has been made a monk, he has become a model of discipline to everyone. See how carefully he guards his silence. He does not say a single word.”

  But when the Landgrave’s soul had been taken from its body, it was presented to the captain of the demons, as it was very clearly revealed to someone. As that inhabitant of Hell sat over the pit and held a cup in his hand, he saluted the Landgrave with words of this kind, “Let our beloved friend be welcome! Show him our banquet halls, our storehouses, our cellars, and then bring him back.”

  After that wretched soul had been led to places of punishments, in which there was nothing but crying, wailing, and the gnashing of teeth, and brought back, the captain of the demons said this to the Landgrave, one prince to another, “Drink, friend, from my cup.” Even though he was loath to do so, when he was forced to drink it, sulfurous flames burst forth from his eyes, his ears, and his nostrils. After this, the demon said, “Now you can inspect my pit, which has no bottom.” Removing the cover, he threw the Landgrave in and withdrew. Behold, this is the very pit in which the cleric saw him, as I related in a previous chapter.3

  CONCERNING THE PUNISHMENT OF A PRIEST, WHOSE OWN PARISHIONERS DROVE HIS SOUL INTO THE PIT.