III. Its Stench
Consider how much the misfortunes of this prison, so strait and obscure, must be heightened by the addition of the greatest stench. First, thither, as to a common sewer, all the filth of the earth shall run after the fire has purged it at the last day. Second, the brimstone itself continually burning in such prodigious quantity will cause a stench not to be bore. Third, the very bodies of the damned will exhale so pestilential a stink that if any one of them were to be placed here on earth, it would be enough, as St. Bonaventure observes, to cause a general infection.12 “A stench shall arise from their carcasses,” says the prophet, for so he calls them, though they are living bodies, and will continue so, as to the pain they shall suffer, but at the same time are worse than carcasses as to the stench that will come from them.13 The devil appearing one day to St. Martin with purple robes and a crown on his head. “Adore me,” said he, “because I am Christ, and deserve it.” But the saint, assisted by a celestial light, answered him, saying, “My Lord is crowned with thorns and covered with blood. I know him not in this new dress.”14 The devil being discovered fled away, but left so great a stench behind him that this alone was sufficient for the saint to discover him. If then one single devil could raise such a stench, what will that pestiferous breath be that shall be exhaled in that dungeon, where all the whole crowd of tormenting devils and all the bodies of the tormented will be penned up together. Air itself, being for a time closely shut up, becomes insupportable: judge then what stink of such loathsome filth must be to those that are confined in it forever. This is the habitation which sinners voluntarily choose forever, provided they satisfy with a short dream the infamous desires of their corrupted flesh. These are the proud palaces, which they who despise the poor and turn them away as loathsome have built for themselves in their haughtiness. Heaven, bought with the blood of the Son of God and therefore never sufficiently to be valued, is exchanged for this prison. Oh, unfortunate exchange! Oh, change that will be lamented with a flood of tears, but that in vain forever, “The rich man died and was buried in Hell.”15
THE SECOND CONSIDERATION FOR MONDAY: THE FIRE
I. Its Quality
Consider that the divine justice has chosen fire as the fittest instrument to punish those that rebel against God. Even among men there never was found a greater torment. It is, therefore, with reason called the greatest of all. Nevertheless, you must not think the fire of Hell is like ours. Happy, I say, would those unfortunate souls be, if they met with no other fires than what can be made on earth. The rich man mentioned in the Gospel does not barely say he was tormented by fire, but “I suffer in these flames,” expressing in some kind the different quality of the infernal flames.16 Our fire is created for the benefit of man, to serve him as a help in most arts, and for the maintaining of life, but the fire of Hell was only created for God to revenge himself of the wicked, “The punishment of ungodly flesh is fire.”17 Our fire is often applied to subjects not at all proportioned to its activity, but the fire of Hell is kindled by a sulfurous and bituminous matter, which will always burn with an unspeakable fury, as it happens in the thunder-bolt, which strikes with so much force, caused by the violence of that lighted exhalation: “Their part shall be in the burning lake with fire and brimstone.”18 Finally, our fire destroys what it burns; therefore, the more intense it is, the shorter it is; but that fire in which the damned shall forever be tormented shall burn without ever consuming and is, therefore, by Christ compared unto salt, “For everyone shall be salted with fire,” which torturing them with inconceivable heat in nature of fire will also hinder them from being corrupted, as it is the nature of salt to do.19 If a little flame of our fire so much frightens us, if we cannot bear never so little a while the flame of a candle, how shall we be able to be buried forever in flames, whose violence exceeds all imagination? O thou, who has not as yet repented for the sins you committed last, thou knowest by faith that if thou were to die at present, thou wouldst fall into that eternal furnace. How canst thou then find in thy heart to lay down this book before thou beggest pardon from thy heart for thy sins? How canst thou have the courage to continue, I will not say months, but even one moment, in the state of one condemned to Hell? “How can you laugh? How can you sleep at rest?”20
II. Its Quantity.
Consider what strength this devouring fire will have on account of the great quantity thereof. This infernal prison being to contain all the bodies of the damned, without being compenetrated one with another, it will be requisite it should be a pit of many miles in circumference, depth, and height, considering the great number of its prisoners: “Hell has enlarged its soul and opened its mouth without any limit.”21 Now all this great pit will be full of fire, and if lighted straw, when there is enough of it, will heat an oven, what will lighted brimstone do, so violent as to quantity and so great as to quality? Besides, the fire here will be shut up without any vent and, therefore, all its flames will return by reverberation and, by consequence, be of unspeakable activity. Who is there that can doubt that if a whole mountain were thrown into this great furnace, but that it would melt as soon as a piece of wax? This the devil was forced to own, being asked by a soldier.22 And without his testimony we have the irrefutable saying of the Holy Ghost that assures us of it in the eighty-third Psalm, calling it, “A flame burning mountains.”23 And yet, sinners, instead of being frightened, make a jest of these flames and are no more concerned at them than if they were bonfires. “Though that flame burns and a river is set on fire, we still laugh and follow our delights,” says St. John Chrysostom, full of astonishment.24 Holy Job said, “His strength was not like that of stone, nor his flesh of brass,” yet if thine were of stone and brass, it would in a moment be melted in that fire in which thou art to live forever, in case thou dost not detest and abandon thy wicked life.25 I have said little, it is true, in saying thou went to live in that fire forever. I ought to have said that both thou and I, if we do not fear and love God, shall be like fire itself, because that flame is so fierce and so great it will not only afflict us without, as it happens with the fires in this world, but will penetrate our very bones, our marrow, and even the very principle of our life and being. “You will place them as a furnace of fire,” says the prophet.26 Everyone that is damned will be like a lighted furnace, which has its own flames in itself; all that filthy blood will boil in the veins, the brains in the skull, the heart in the breast, the bowels within that unfortunate body, surrounded with an abyss of fire, out of which it cannot escape. “Who of you will be able to live in a devouring fire,” says the prophet Isaiah, “a fire that will turn you into itself and make of you a living flame?”27 Let us answer, but let us first seriously think on it.
III. Its Intenseness.
Consider that whatever has been said either to the strength, the quality, or the quantity of this infernal fire, it is nothing in comparison to the intenseness it will have, as being the instrument of the divine justice, which will raise it above its natural force to produce most wonderful effects: “There came down fire from God out of heaven.”28 The infernal fire will be of that kind; it will have its rise from the foot of the throne of God, that is to say, it will receive an incredible vigor from the omnipotency of God, working, not with its own activity, but as an instrument with the activity of its agent, who will give to the flames such intenseness as he shall think convenient to revenge the outrages committed against him and to repair the injuries done to his glory. The creature serving you, the Creator, is lighted up into torment against the wicked.
If the fire, like the sword, falling with its own weight only, makes such havoc among us, what will it do in Hell, when assisted by an omnipotent arm? “If I shall whet my sword as lightning.”29 So that this fire, though corporeal, will not only burn the body, but the soul also. For, as God makes use of material water in baptism, not only to wash the body, but to cleanse and sanctify the soul, so in Hell he makes use of fire, though material, to punish her when sinful and uncl
ean. The infernal fire, then, is an effect of the omnipotency of God injured by sinners; it is a visible sign of that infinite hatred which the divine goodness bears to sin, as also an invention of his wisdom to recover the honor taken from him by the wicked. Who, therefore, will be able to tell me to what degree those torments will amount, to be a blow proportionable to the arm of the Most High and an invention worthy of his mind? “Who knows the power of thy anger?”30 Not being able to conceive this, as being above the capacity of our nature, how shall we be able to explicate it? Have mercy then of thy soul, and if thou hast no care of thy soul, have compassion, at least, of thy body, for which thou art at all times so solicitous. Consider how dear those forbidden pleasures are to cost, which thou grantest thy body in contempt of the law of God. Behold that eternal furnace is already lighted up and the breath of the anger of God is continually blowing it to increase, if possible, the violence of its flames. There are many there already for less faults than thine. We ought no longer then to add new matter to this fire by new sins, but by penance and tears to endeavor to put it out: “This is the time of crying. Woe be to you that laugh, for you shall cry and lament!”31
THE SEVENTH CONSIDERATION FOR SATURDAY: THE ETERNITY OF PAIN
I. It is Endless.
Consider that were the pains of Hell less racking, yet, being never to have an end, they would become infinite. What, then, will it be, they being both intolerable as to sharpness and endless as to duration! Who can conceive how much it adds to grief, its being never to have an end! The torment of one hour is a great pain, that of two must be twice as much; the torment of a hundred hours must be a hundred times as much, and so on, the pain still increasing in proportion of the time of its duration. What, then, must that be, which is to last infinite hours, infinite days, infinite ages? That pain certainly must be infinite, and surpass all our thoughts to conceive it. For, were it proposed to the damned to suffer either the sting of a bee in their eye for a whole eternity or to undergo all the torments of Hell for as many ages as there are stars in heaven, they would without doubt choose to be thus miserable for so many ages, and then to see an end of their misery, than to endure a pain so much less that was to have no end. Everything is short and may be despised that does not last forever, because it will always be nothing for an eternity. “For what,” says St. Jerome, “can be called great that has an end?”32 Whereas that which never ends can never be comprehended and therefore cannot but be feared by all, unless it be by such who have lost their senses. The worst of it is that the pain as well as the sin is devoured and not digested by sinners: “The mouth of the impious devours iniquity.”33 And if so, let us take a little time to measure this eternity, which surpasses all measure. Take an hour-glass into thy hand and say thus to thyself: If I were to be buried alive in the middle of a fire, for as many thousand years as there are grains in this little parcel of sand, which measure the fleeting hours, when should I see an end of my pain? The world has lasted so long and yet has not completed six thousand years, so that there would not as yet be above five grains taken away, which would not be more than some few atoms, in respect of the remaining quantity. And yet, if I die in mortal sin, I am obliged by faith to believe that after having suffered all these ages, none of my pain due to it will be passed and eternity will remain as entire as ever. Let us go on and imagine to ourselves a mountain of this small sand, so high as would reach from earth to heaven. Then let everyone say to himself: Were I to continue in flames so many thousand years as there are grains of sand in this vast mountain, when should I ever see an end of my torments? And yet, if I die in mortal sin, faith tells me that after all this none of my pains due to it will be diminished and that eternity will be as entire as ever. Let us then imagine this great mountain to be multiplied as often as there are sands in the sea, leaves on trees, feathers on birds, scales on fish, hairs on beasts, atoms in the air, drops of water that have rained, or will rain, to the Day of Judgment. What human understanding can ever comprehend so great a number, which can scarce be comprehended by an angel himself? And yet, if either you or I should die in mortal sin, we are assured by faith that we shall continue all this while in the fire and that all these years shall pass and, when over, none of our pain will be lessened nor so much as one instant taken from eternity. O eternity, then, O eternity! Either sinners have no faith or no senses! Canst thou deny that living in sin is not exposing thyself to the danger of falling into this abyss, from where there is no getting out forever? Thou canst deny it, if thou art a Christian. But, on the contrary, thou mayest say with truth that by living thus, thou art not above one step off the abyss or, rather, have already one foot in it: “By one degree only (as I may so say) I and death are divided.”34 Since, then, we may die at any moment, we may also any moment be lost forever. The exposing ourselves to such evident danger of burning for the space of a thousand years on account of some vile and transitory pleasure would undoubtedly be a very great madness. It would be a much greater madness to expose oneself to the danger of continuing ten thousand years. It would still be greater and greater to expose oneself to burn for a hundred thousand years. Will not, then, the exposing ourselves to burn forever, for so small a trifle, be an infinite madness? “After so small a pleasure, so great a misery!” says St. Bernard. “It is enough,” says he, “to make one mad to think of eternity.”35 Whereas, it is quite otherwise, for to think attentively of it will make those that have lost their wits to find them again.
II. It is Unchangeable.
Consider that if this succession of ages without end could in Hell give any relief by variety, it would, on that score, be more tolerable, but how can it be tolerable, it being to be always the same in torments? Though the manna contained in itself all kinds of tastes, yet we find the people of Israel grew tired of it in the desert: “Our eyes,” say they, “behold nothing else but manna.”36 And yet this, according to the interpreters, happened the second year only of their travels through the desert. What would they have said at the end of forty or one hundred years? Miserable sinners! If that eternity, which waits for thee, should expect thee at a continual feast, but still of the same kinds of meat, thou wouldst at last grow tired with it, that it was enough to cast thee into despair. What then will thy despair be, seeing that eternity expects thee in a place of torment, always the same with the same pains? You that cannot bear with a sermon unless it has some variety; nay, and what is more, you are even tired with a play that has not some interludes. How then will you be able to pass an eternity of misery, without ease, without change, without any comfort? Those who inhabit the torrid zone, though they are scorched with the burning sun-beams during the day, are at least refreshed in the night by cool breezes. A sick man may, after some fatigues, fall asleep for a little while and during that time forget all his pains. There is no wound in this world, either in soul or body, which does not receive some ease from time, but to the damned, all these hopes are vain. They shall not only experience the scorching rays of the divine justice, but shall lay under the weight of his thunder-bolts and shall never have either night, sleep, or time to soften their pains. If these unhappy wretches could at least deceive themselves by the persuasion that some time or other they should be eased, though it be never to happen, this might afford them some kind of comfort, but they cannot so much as do this, because God will have them constantly to bear before their eyes the sentence of their eternal damnation, written in characters never to be blotted out, and never to be able, so much as one moment, to turn their thoughts from it. If to those that undergo any torment every hour seems a day, how long will the misery of these poor souls appear that will never be interrupted for infinite ages? These unfortunate creatures will not only be tormented for an eternity, but will have eternity itself to torment them because, it being always in their sight, it will every moment oppress them with all its weight as an immense sphere of brass would press with all its weight the plain it lies on, though it actually touched it but at one point. Besides, the fear of a pun
ishment to come afflicts oftentimes more than the punishment itself: “The fear of war is worse than the war itself.”37 So that we may say that eternity not only every moment tortures the damned, but that to the damned every moment is turned into many eternities. For, since evil is unavoidable, the expectation thereof is most certain, the fear of it perhaps more cruel than any executioner and the anticipation every moment redoubles the pain. You recoil to read these things and yet not to sin. If so, you fear a painted precipice, but fear not to cast yourself from a real one.
III. It is Just.
Consider that men reasoning always as men are astonished that God for so short a pleasure of a sinner should have decreed an everlasting punishment in the fire of Hell. Nor do they know how to reconcile in their thoughts this rigor, either with divine goodness, which is so compassionate, or with divine justice, which does not punish beyond reason. But ought not we rather to wonder at the astonishment of worldlings, grounded on the ignorance of spiritual things: “The sensual man does not perceive the things that are of the Spirit of God, for it is a folly to him and he cannot understand.”38 If sinners did but comprehend the malice of their sin, they would soon change their wonder into one far greater. They are, at present, amazed how God could for one only fault make Hell to be eternal, but when they come into the other world, they will wonder much more that he has not created a Hell and provided pains incomparably more cruel for every transgression. St. Augustine understood very well this truth, when he tells us, “The misery of the devils would never have been eternal, had not their malice been great.”39 For, otherwise, it would not have been proportionable. Consider, therefore, that every mortal sin is either a tacit or express contempt of the divine will and an injury to God. Now an injury is increased on two accounts, either by dignity of the person offended or the vileness of the offender. The majesty, therefore, of God being infinite, and our vileness in the lowest degree, it follows that the injury which we do him is in a manner infinite. It is an abyss of malice more destestable than all the injuries imaginable that can be done to creatures. The punishment, then, being to be proportioned to the sin, to reestablish the order which was violated by it, ought also to be infinite. But since it cannot be infinite in intenseness, because a creature is not capable of it, it must be infinite in extension and last forever. This same truth will be better known by considering that the malice of sin is so exorbitant as not to be atoned and satisfied for by the good works of all creatures and, therefore, to pay this debt, it was necessary the Son of God should take from his veins as a just price the treasures of his divine blood. That sin, then, which cannot be made amends for by any virtuous actions of creatures, though continued never so long, deserves a pain longer than any time and, therefore, deserves one that is everlasting. So that God can never be despised by any but fools. Whereas, if the pain due to the offenders of God were to end, both the judge and the sentence would be condemned. What is not eternal is nothing. For what will be nothing for a whole eternity may also be esteemed such at present. Thus they argue, who look upon the goodness of God, not as sinners do, as an indolent neglect of evil, but as a holiness infinitely opposite to sin, to which it bears an infinite hatred and is forced to demonstrate it to them and punish it with a pain corresponding to it, that is, without end. And thus he weighs things, who makes use of scales of the divine justice, which cannot be mistaken, and not of the false scales of the world, equally deceived and deceiving. Consider, then, how great an evil one mortal sin is, since it contains an eternal misery, as it were, in its bowels, so that if you can penetrate with the eye of the mind into that deep and wicked bottom, thou wouldest easily discover there in the seeds of an eternal fire, of eternal lamentation, of an eternal sorrow, of an eternal imprisonment, of an eternal stench, of an eternal despair, and of an eternal loss of all that is good. All this is contained in one sin, though the act be so short. Yet, like unto a basilisk’s egg, it contains a poisonous progeny and more than one death. It may, therefore, be called Hell itself, or rather an evil which infinitely surpasses it, in as much as can be spoken or comprehended by us, and which is to be redoubled as many times in severity and pains as the soul will be found to have sins when she leaves this “land of misery and darkness, where the shadow of death is, and no order, but everlasting horror inhabits.”40 Have thou ever seriously thought on this truth? If thou hast thought of it, how is it possible that for so vile, so filthy, and so short a pleasure, thou throwest thyself by sinning so unconcernedly into an abyss of pain, which attends it? The precipice on thy side is unavoidable, if God, whom thou so frequently offendest, interposeth not his hand to keep thee from it. Ah, thou hast not seen these things; thou hast not understood them. If thou hast thought slightly of them, but not understood them, if thou hast not thought of them at all, what art thou doing? “Why art thou oppressed with sleep? Rise and call your God.”41 How canst thou rest in a state so near to being shipwrecked? If the evil were only probable and not certain from faith, ought it not to make thee tremble every moment? Beg, then, of God to free thee from it. Have recourse to confession, fly from that wicked company, avoid the danger of sin, frequent the sacraments, do penance, retire, if necessary from the world, to save thy soul. No care can be too great, where eternity is at stake.
The Penguin Book of Hell Page 17
