The swift December dusk had come tumbling clownishly after its dull dayand, as he stared through the dull square of the window of theschoolroom, he felt his belly crave for its food. He hoped there wouldbe stew for dinner, turnips and carrots and bruised potatoes and fatmutton pieces to be ladled out in thick peppered flour-fattened sauce.Stuff it into you, his belly counselled him.It would be a gloomy secret night. After early nightfall the yellowlamps would light up, here and there, the squalid quarter of thebrothels. He would follow a devious course up and down the streets,circling always nearer and nearer in a tremor of fear and joy, untilhis feet led him suddenly round a dark corner. The whores would be justcoming out of their houses making ready for the night, yawning lazilyafter their sleep and settling the hairpins in their clusters of hair.He would pass by them calmly waiting for a sudden movement of his ownwill or a sudden call to his sin-loving soul from their soft perfumedflesh. Yet as he prowled in quest of that call, his senses, stultifiedonly by his desire, would note keenly all that wounded or shamed them;his eyes, a ring of porter froth on a clothless table or a photographof two soldiers standing to attention or a gaudy playbill; his ears,the drawling jargon of greeting:--Hello, Bertie, any good in your mind?--Is that you, pigeon?--Number ten. Fresh Nelly is waiting on you.--Good night, husband! Coming in to have a short time?The equation on the page of his scribbler began to spread out awidening tail, eyed and starred like a peacock's; and, when the eyesand stars of its indices had been eliminated, began slowly to folditself together again. The indices appearing and disappearing were eyesopening and closing; the eyes opening and closing were stars being bornand being quenched. The vast cycle of starry life bore his weary mindoutward to its verge and inward to its centre, a distant musicaccompanying him outward and inward. What music? The music came nearerand he recalled the words, the words of Shelley's fragment upon themoon wandering companionless, pale for weariness. The stars began tocrumble and a cloud of fine stardust fell through space.The dull light fell more faintly upon the page whereon another equationbegan to unfold itself slowly and to spread abroad its widening tail.It was his own soul going forth to experience, unfolding itself sin bysin, spreading abroad the bale-fire of its burning stars and foldingback upon itself, fading slowly, quenching its own lights and fires.They were quenched: and the cold darkness filled chaos.A cold lucid indifference reigned in his soul. At his first violent sinhe had felt a wave of vitality pass out of him and had feared to findhis body or his soul maimed by the excess. Instead the vital wave hadcarried him on its bosom out of himself and back again when it receded:and no part of body or soul had been maimed but a dark peace had beenestablished between them. The chaos in which his ardour extinguisheditself was a cold indifferent knowledge of himself. He had sinnedmortally not once but many times and he knew that, while he stood indanger of eternal damnation for the first sin alone, by everysucceeding sin he multiplied his guilt and his punishment. His days andworks and thoughts could make no atonement for him, the fountains ofsanctifying grace having ceased to refresh his soul. At most, by analms given to a beggar whose blessing he fled from, he might hopewearily to win for himself some measure of actual grace. Devotion hadgone by the board. What did it avail to pray when he knew that his soullusted after its own destruction? A certain pride, a certain awe,withheld him from offering to God even one prayer at night, though heknew it was in God's power to take away his life while he slept andhurl his soul hellward ere he could beg for mercy. His pride in his ownsin, his loveless awe of God, told him that his offence was toogrievous to be atoned for in whole or in part by a false homage to theAll-seeing and All-knowing.--Well now, Ennis, I declare you have a head and so has my stick! Doyou mean to say that you are not able to tell me what a surd is?The blundering answer stirred the embers of his contempt of hisfellows. Towards others he felt neither shame nor fear. On Sundaymornings as he passed the church door he glanced coldly at theworshippers who stood bareheaded, four deep, outside the church,morally present at the mass which they could neither see nor hear.Their dull piety and the sickly smell of the cheap hair-oil with whichthey had anointed their heads repelled him from the altar they prayedat. He stooped to the evil of hypocrisy with others, sceptical of theirinnocence which he could cajole so easily.On the wall of his bedroom hung an illuminated scroll, the certificateof his prefecture in the college of the sodality of the Blessed VirginMary. On Saturday mornings when the sodality met in the chapel torecite the little office his place was a cushioned kneeling-desk at theright of the altar from which he led his wing of boys through theresponses. The falsehood of his position did not pain him. If atmoments he felt an impulse to rise from his post of honour and,confessing before them all his unworthiness, to leave the chapel, aglance at their faces restrained him. The imagery of the psalms ofprophecy soothed his barren pride. The glories of Mary held his soulcaptive: spikenard and myrrh and frankincense, symbolizing her royallineage, her emblems, the late-flowering plant and late-blossomingtree, symbolizing the age-long gradual growth of her cultus among men.When it fell to him to read the lesson towards the close of the officehe read it in a veiled voice, lulling his conscience to its music.QUASI CEDRUS EXALTATA SUM IN LIBANON ET QUASI CUPRESSUS IN MONTE SION.QUASI PALMA EXALTATA SUM IN GADES ET QUASI PLANTATIO ROSAE IN JERICHO.QUASI ULIVA SPECIOSA IN CAMPIS ET QUASI PLATANUS EXALTATA SUM JUXTAAQUAM IN PLATEIS. SICUT CINNAMOMUM ET BALSAMUM AROMATIZANS ODOREM DEDIET QUASI MYRRHA ELECTA DEDI SUAVITATEM ODORIS.His sin, which had covered him from the sight of God, had led himnearer to the refuge of sinners. Her eyes seemed to regard him withmild pity; her holiness, a strange light glowing faintly upon her frailflesh, did not humiliate the sinner who approached her. If ever he wasimpelled to cast sin from him and to repent the impulse that moved himwas the wish to be her knight. If ever his soul, re-entering herdwelling shyly after the frenzy of his body's lust had spent itself,was turned towards her whose emblem is the morning star, BRIGHT ANDMUSICAL, TELLING OF HEAVEN AND INFUSING PEACE, it was when her nameswere murmured softly by lips whereon there still lingered foul andshameful words, the savour itself of a lewd kiss.That was strange. He tried to think how it could be. But the dusk,deepening in the schoolroom, covered over his thoughts. The bell rang.The master marked the sums and cuts to be done for the next lesson andwent out. Heron, beside Stephen, began to hum tunelessly.MY EXCELLENT FRIEND BOMBADOS.Ennis, who had gone to the yard, came back, saying:--The boy from the house is coming up for the rector.A tall boy behind Stephen rubbed his hands and said:--That's game ball. We can scut the whole hour. He won't be in tillafter half two. Then you can ask him questions on the catechism,Dedalus.Stephen, leaning back and drawing idly on his scribbler, listened tothe talk about him which Heron checked from time to time by saying:--Shut up, will you. Don't make such a bally racket!It was strange too that he found an arid pleasure in following up tothe end the rigid lines of the doctrines of the church and penetratinginto obscure silences only to hear and feel the more deeply his owncondemnation. The sentence of saint James which says that he whooffends against one commandment becomes guilty of all, had seemed to himfirst a swollen phrase until he had begun to grope in the darknessof his own state. From the evil seed of lust all other deadlysins had sprung forth: pride in himself and contempt of others,covetousness in using money for the purchase of unlawful pleasures,envy of those whose vices he could not reach to and calumniousmurmuring against the pious, gluttonous enjoyment of food,the dull glowering anger amid which he brooded upon his longing, theswamp of spiritual and bodily sloth in which his whole being had sunk.As he sat in his bench gazing calmly at the rector's shrewd harsh face,his mind wound itself in and out of the curious questions proposed toit. If a man had stolen a pound in his youth and had used that pound toamass a huge fortune how much was he obliged to give back, the pound hehad stolen only or the pound together with the compound interestaccruing upon it or all his huge fortune? If a layman in giving baptismpour the water before saying the words is the child baptized? Isbaptism with a mineral water valid? How comes it that while the firstbeatitude promises the kingdom of heaven to the poor of heart thesecond beatitude promises also to the meek that they shall possess theland? Why was the sacrament of the eucharist instituted under the twospecies of bread and wine if Jesus Christ be present body and blood,soul and divinity, in the bread alone and in the wine alone? Does atiny particle of the consecrated bread contain all the body and bloodof Jesus Christ or a part only of the body and blood? If the winechange into vinegar and the host crumble into corruption after theyhave been consecrated, is Jesus Christ still present under theirspecies as God and as man?--Here he is! Here he is!A boy from his post at the window had seen the rector come from thehouse. All the catechisms were opened and all heads bent upon themsilently. The rector entered and took his seat on the dais. A gentlekick from the tall boy in the bench behind urged Stephen to ask adifficult question.The rector did not ask for a catechism to hear the lesson from. Heclasped his hands on the desk and said:--The retreat will begin on Wednesday afternoon in honour of saintFrancis Xavier whose feast day is Saturday. The retreat will go on fromWednesday to Friday. On Friday confession will be heard all theafternoon after beads. If any boys have special confessors perhaps itwill be better for them not to change. Mass will be on Saturday morningat nine o'clock and general communion for the whole college. Saturdaywill be a free day. But Saturday and Sunday being free days some boysmight be inclined to think that Monday is a free day also. Beware ofmaking that mistake. I think you, Lawless, are likely to make thatmistake.--I sir? Why, sir?A little wave of quiet mirth broke forth over the class of boys fromthe rector's grim smile. Stephen's heart began slowly to fold and fadewith fear like a withering flower.The rector went on gravely:--You are all familiar with the story of the life of saint FrancisXavier, I suppose, the patron of your college. He came of an old andillustrious Spanish family and you remember that he was one of thefirst followers of saint Ignatius. They met in Paris where FrancisXavier was professor of philosophy at the university. This young andbrilliant nobleman and man of letters entered heart and soul into theideas of our glorious founder and you know that he, at his own desire,was sent by saint Ignatius to preach to the Indians. He is called, asyou know, the apostle of the Indies. He went from country to country inthe east, from Africa to India, from India to Japan, baptizing thepeople. He is said to have baptized as many as ten thousand idolatersin one month. It is said that his right arm had grown powerless fromhaving been raised so often over the heads of those whom he baptized.He wished then to go to China to win still more souls for God but hedied of fever on the island of Sancian. A great saint, saint FrancisXavier! A great soldier of God!The rector paused and then, shaking his clasped hands before him, wenton:--He had the faith in him that moves mountains. Ten thousand souls wonfor God in a single month! That is a true conqueror, true to the mottoof our order: AD MAJOREM DEI GLORIAM! A saint who has great power inheaven, remember: power to intercede for us in our grief; power toobtain whatever we pray for if it be for the good of our souls; powerabove all to obtain for us the grace to repent if we be in sin. A greatsaint, saint Francis Xavier! A great fisher of souls!He ceased to shake his clasped hands and, resting them against hisforehead, looked right and left of them keenly at his listeners out ofhis dark stern eyes.In the silence their dark fire kindled the dusk into a tawny glow.Stephen's heart had withered up like a flower of the desert that feelsthe simoom coming from afar.--REMEMBER ONLY THY LAST THINGS AND THOU SHALT NOT SIN FOR EVER--wordstaken, my dear little brothers in Christ, from the book ofEcclesiastes, seventh chapter, fortieth verse. In the name of theFather and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.Stephen sat in the front bench of the chapel. Father Arnall sat at atable to the left of the altar. He wore about his shoulders a heavycloak; his pale face was drawn and his voice broken with rheum. Thefigure of his old master, so strangely re-arisen, brought back toStephen's mind his life at Clongowes: the wide playgrounds, swarmingwith boys; the square ditch; the little cemetery off the main avenue oflimes where he had dreamed of being buried; the firelight on the wallof the infirmary where he lay sick; the sorrowful face of BrotherMichael. His soul, as these memories came back to him, became again achild's soul.--We are assembled here today, my dear little brothers in Christ, forone brief moment far away from the busy bustle of the outer world tocelebrate and to honour one of the greatest of saints, the apostle ofthe Indies, the patron saint also of your college, saint FrancisXavier. Year after year, for much longer than any of you, my dearlittle boys, can remember or than I can remember, the boys of thiscollege have met in this very chapel to make their annual retreatbefore the feast day of their patron saint. Time has gone on andbrought with it its changes. Even in the last few years what changescan most of you not remember? Many of the boys who sat in those frontbenches a few years ago are perhaps now in distant lands, in theburning tropics, or immersed in professional duties or in seminaries,or voyaging over the vast expanse of the deep or, it may be, alreadycalled by the great God to another life and to the rendering up oftheir stewardship. And still as the years roll by, bringing with themchanges for good and bad, the memory of the great saint is honoured bythe boys of this college who make every year their annual retreat onthe days preceding the feast day set apart by our Holy Mother theChurch to transmit to all the ages the name and fame of one of thegreatest sons of catholic Spain.--Now what is the meaning of this word RETREAT and why is it allowedon all hands to be a most salutary practice for all who desire to leadbefore God and in the eyes of men a truly christian life? A retreat, mydear boys, signifies a withdrawal for awhile from the cares of ourlife, the cares of this workaday world, in order to examine the stateof our conscience, to reflect on the mysteries of holy religion and tounderstand better why we are here in this world. During these few daysI intend to put before you some thoughts concerning the four lastthings. They are, as you know from your catechism, death, judgement,hell, and heaven. We shall try to understand them fully during thesefew days so that we may derive from the understanding of them a lastingbenefit to our souls. And remember, my dear boys, that we have beensent into this world for one thing and for one thing alone: to do God'sholy will and to save our immortal souls. All else is worthless. Onething alone is needful, the salvation of one's soul. What doth itprofit a man to gain the whole world if he suffer the loss of hisimmortal soul? Ah, my dear boys, believe me there is nothing in thiswretched world that can make up for such a loss.--I will ask you, therefore, my dear boys, to put away from your mindsduring these few days all worldly thoughts, whether of study orpleasure or ambition, and to give all your attention to the state ofyour souls. I need hardly remind you that during the days of theretreat all boys are expected to preserve a quiet and pious demeanourand to shun all loud unseemly pleasure. The elder boys, of course, willsee that this custom is not infringed and I look especially to theprefects and officers of the sodality of Our Blessed Lady and of thesodality of the holy angels to set a good example to theirfellow-students.--Let us try, therefore, to make this retreat in honour of saintFrancis with our whole heart and our whole mind. God's blessing willthen be upon all your year's studies. But, above and beyond all, letthis retreat be one to which you can look back in after years whenmaybe you are far from this college and among very differentsurroundings, to which you can look back with joy and thankfulness andgive thanks to God for having granted you this occasion of laying thefirst foundation of a pious honourable zealous christian life. And if,as may so happen, there be at this moment in these benches any poorsoul who has had the unutterable misfortune to lose God's holy graceand to fall into grievous sin, I fervently trust and pray that thisretreat may be the turning point in the life of that soul. I pray toGod through the merits of His zealous servant Francis Xavier, that sucha soul may be led to sincere repentance and that the holy communion onsaint Francis's day of this year may be a lasting covenant between Godand that soul. For just and unjust, for saint and sinner alike, maythis retreat be a memorable one.--Help me, my dear little brothers in Christ. Help me by your piousattention, by your own devotion, by your outward demeanour. Banish fromyour minds all worldly thoughts and think only of the last things,death, judgement, hell, and heaven. He who remembers these things, saysEcclesiastes, shall not sin for ever. He who remembers the last thingswill act and think with them always before his eyes. He will live agood life and die a good death, believing and knowing that, if he hassacrificed much in this earthly life, it will be given to him ahundredfold and a thousandfold more in the life to come, in the kingdomwithout end--a blessing, my dear boys, which I wish you from my heart,one and all, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the HolyGhost. Amen!As he walked home with silent companions, a thick fog seemed to compasshis mind. He waited in stupor of mind till it should lift and revealwhat it had hidden. He ate his dinner with surly appetite and when themeal was over and the grease-strewn plates lay abandoned on the table,he rose and went to the window, clearing the thick scum from his mouthwith his tongue and licking it from his lips. So he had sunk to thestate of a beast that licks his chaps after meat. This was the end; anda faint glimmer of fear began to pierce the fog of his mind. He pressedhis face against the pane of the window and gazed out into thedarkening street. Forms passed this way and that through the dulllight. And that was life. The letters of the name of Dublin lay heavilyupon his mind, pushing one another surlily hither and thither with slowboorish insistence. His soul was fattening and congealing into a grossgrease, plunging ever deeper in its dull fear into a sombre threateningdusk while the body that was his stood, listless and dishonoured,gazing out of darkened eyes, helpless, perturbed, and human for abovine god to stare upon.The next day brought death and judgement, stirring his soul slowly fromits listless despair. The faint glimmer of fear became a terror ofspirit as the hoarse voice of the preacher blew death into his soul. Hesuffered its agony. He felt the death chill touch the extremities andcreep onward towards the heart, the film of death veiling the eyes, thebright centres of the brain extinguished one by one like lamps, thelast sweat oozing upon the skin, the powerlessness of the dying limbs,the speech thickening and wandering and failing, the heart throbbingfaintly and more faintly, all but vanquished, the breath, the poorbreath, the poor helpless human spirit, sobbing and sighing, gurglingand rattling in the throat. No help! No help! He--he himself--hisbody to which he had yielded was dying. Into the grave with it. Nail itdown into a wooden box, the corpse. Carry it out of the house on theshoulders of hirelings. Thrust it out of men's sight into a long holein the ground, into the grave, to rot, to feed the mass of its creepingworms and to be devoured by scuttling plump-bellied rats.And while the friends were still standing in tears by the bedside thesoul of the sinner was judged. At the last moment of consciousness thewhole earthly life passed before the vision of the soul and, ere it hadtime to reflect, the body had died and the soul stood terrified beforethe judgement seat. God, who had long been merciful, would then bejust. He had long been patient, pleading with the sinful soul,giving it time to repent, sparing it yet awhile. But that time hadgone. Time was to sin and to enjoy, time was to scoff at God and at thewarnings of His holy church, time was to defy His majesty, to disobeyHis commands, to hoodwink one's fellow men, to commit sin after sin andto hide one's corruption from the sight of men. But that time was over.Now it was God's turn: and He was not to be hoodwinked or deceived.Every sin would then come forth from its lurking place, the mostrebellious against the divine will and the most degrading to our poorcorrupt nature, the tiniest imperfection and the most heinous atrocity.What did it avail then to have been a great emperor, a great general, amarvellous inventor, the most learned of the learned? All were as onebefore the judgement seat of God. He would reward the good and punishthe wicked. One single instant was enough for the trial of a man'ssoul. One single instant after the body's death, the soul had beenweighed in the balance. The particular judgement was over and the soulhad passed to the abode of bliss or to the prison of purgatory or hadbeen hurled howling into hell.Nor was that all. God's justice had still to be vindicated before men:after the particular there still remained the general judgement. Thelast day had come. The doomsday was at hand. The stars of heaven werefalling upon the earth like the figs cast by the fig-tree which thewind has shaken. The sun, the great luminary of the universe, hadbecome as sackcloth of hair. The moon was blood-red. The firmament wasas a scroll rolled away. The archangel Michael, the prince of theheavenly host, appeared glorious and terrible against the sky. With onefoot on the sea and one foot on the land he blew from the arch-angelicaltrumpet the brazen death of time. The three blasts of theangel filled all the universe. Time is, time was, but time shall be nomore. At the last blast the souls of universal humanity throng towardsthe valley of Jehoshaphat, rich and poor, gentle and simple, wise andfoolish, good and wicked. The soul of every human being that has everexisted, the souls of all those who shall yet be born, all the sons anddaughters of Adam, all are assembled on that supreme day. And lo, thesupreme judge is coming! No longer the lowly Lamb of God, no longer themeek Jesus of Nazareth, no longer the Man of Sorrows, no longer theGood Shepherd, He is seen now coming upon the clouds, in great powerand majesty, attended by nine choirs of angels, angels and archangels,principalities, powers and virtues, thrones and dominations, cherubimand seraphim, God Omnipotent, God Everlasting. He speaks: and His voiceis heard even at the farthest limits of space, even In the bottomlessabyss. Supreme Judge, from His sentence there will be and can be noappeal. He calls the just to His side, bidding them enter into thekingdom, the eternity of bliss prepared for them. The unjust He castsfrom Him, crying in His offended majesty: DEPART FROM ME, YE CURSED,INTO EVERLASTING FIRE WHICH WAS PREPARED FOR THE DEVIL AND HIS ANGELS.O, what agony then for the miserable sinners! Friend is torn apart fromfriend, children are torn from their parents, husbands from theirwives. The poor sinner holds out his arms to those who were dear to himin this earthly world, to those whose simple piety perhaps he made amock of, to those who counselled him and tried to lead him on the rightpath, to a kind brother, to a loving sister, to the mother and fatherwho loved him so dearly. But it is too late: the just turn away fromthe wretched damned souls which now appear before the eyes of all intheir hideous and evil character. O you hypocrites, O, you whitedsepulchres, O you who present a smooth smiling face to the world whileyour soul within is a foul swamp of sin, how will it fare with you inthat terrible day?And this day will come, shall come, must come: the day of death and theday of judgement. It is appointed unto man to die and after death thejudgement. Death is certain. The time and manner are uncertain, whetherfrom long disease or from some unexpected accident: the Son of Godcometh at an hour when you little expect Him. Be therefore ready everymoment, seeing that you may die at any moment. Death is the end of usall. Death and judgement, brought into the world by the sin of ourfirst parents, are the dark portals that close our earthly existence,the portals that open into the unknown and the unseen, portals throughwhich every soul must pass, alone, unaided save by its good works,without friend or brother or parent or master to help it, alone andtrembling. Let that thought be ever before our minds and then we cannotsin. Death, a cause of terror to the sinner, is a blessed moment forhim who has walked in the right path, fulfilling the duties of hisstation in life, attending to his morning and evening prayers,approaching the holy sacrament frequently and performing good andmerciful works. For the pious and believing catholic, for the just man,death is no cause of terror. Was it not Addison, the great Englishwriter, who, when on his deathbed, sent for the wicked young earl ofWarwick to let him see how a christian can meet his end? He it is and healone, the pious and believing christian, who can say in his heart:O grave, where is thy victory?
O death, where is thy sting?
Every word of it was for him. Against his sin, foul and secret, thewhole wrath of God was aimed. The preacher's knife had probed deeplyinto his disclosed conscience and he felt now that his soul wasfestering in sin. Yes, the preacher was right. God's turn had come.Like a beast in its lair his soul had lain down in its own filth butthe blasts of the angel's trumpet had driven him forth from thedarkness of sin into the light. The words of doom cried by the angelshattered in an instant his presumptuous peace. The wind of the lastday blew through his mind, his sins, the jewel-eyed harlots of hisimagination, fled before the hurricane, squeaking like mice in theirterror and huddled under a mane of hair.As he crossed the square, walking homeward, the light laughter of agirl reached his burning ear. The frail gay sound smote his heart morestrongly than a trumpet blast, and, not daring to lift his eyes, heturned aside and gazed, as he walked, into the shadow of the tangledshrubs. Shame rose from his smitten heart and flooded his whole being.The image of Emma appeared before him, and under her eyes the flood ofshame rushed forth anew from his heart. If she knew to what his mindhad subjected her or how his brute-like lust had torn and trampled uponher innocence! Was that boyish love? Was that chivalry? Was thatpoetry? The sordid details of his orgies stank under his very nostrils.The soot-coated packet of pictures which he had hidden in the flue ofthe fireplace and in the presence of whose shameless or bashfulwantonness he lay for hours sinning in thought and deed; his monstrousdreams, peopled by ape-like creatures and by harlots with gleamingjewel eyes; the foul long letters he had written in the joy of guiltyconfession and carried secretly for days and days only to throw themunder cover of night among the grass in the corner of a field orbeneath some hingeless door in some niche in the hedges where a girlmight come upon them as she walked by and read them secretly. Mad! Mad!Was it possible he had done these things? A cold sweat broke out uponhis forehead as the foul memories condensed within his brain.When the agony of shame had passed from him he tried to raise his soulfrom its abject powerlessness. God and the Blessed Virgin were too farfrom him: God was too great and stern and the Blessed Virgin too pureand holy. But he imagined that he stood near Emma in a wide land and,humbly and in tears, bent and kissed the elbow of her sleeve.In the wide land under a tender lucid evening sky, a cloud driftingwestward amid a pale green sea of heaven, they stood together, childrenthat had erred. Their error had offended deeply God's majesty though itwas the error of two children; but it had not offended her whose beautyIS NOT LIKE EARTHLY BEAUTY, DANGEROUS TO LOOK UPON, BUT LIKE THEMORNING STAR WHICH IS ITS EMBLEM, BRIGHT AND MUSICAL. The eyes werenot offended which she turned upon him nor reproachful. She placedtheir hands together, hand in hand, and said, speaking to their hearts:--Take hands, Stephen and Emma. It is a beautiful evening now inheaven. You have erred but you are always my children. It is one heartthat loves another heart. Take hands together, my dear children, andyou will be happy together and your hearts will love each other.The chapel was flooded by the dull scarlet light that filtered throughthe lowered blinds; and through the fissure between the last blind andthe sash a shaft of wan light entered like a spear and touched theembossed brasses of the candlesticks upon the altar that gleamed likethe battle-worn mail armour of angels.Rain was falling on the chapel, on the garden, on the college. It wouldrain for ever, noiselessly. The water would rise inch by inch, coveringthe grass and shrubs, covering the trees and houses, covering themonuments and the mountain tops. All life would be choked off,noiselessly: birds, men, elephants, pigs, children: noiselesslyfloating corpses amid the litter of the wreckage of the world. Fortydays and forty nights the rain would fall till the waters covered theface of the earth.It might be. Why not?--HELL HAS ENLARGED ITS SOUL AND OPENED ITS MOUTH WITHOUT ANYLIMITS--words taken, my dear little brothers in Christ Jesus, from thebook of Isaias, fifth chapter, fourteenth verse. In the name of theFather and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.The preacher took a chainless watch from a pocket within his soutaneand, having considered its dial for a moment in silence, placed itsilently before him on the table.He began to speak in a quiet tone.--Adam and Eve, my dear boys, were, as you know, our first parents,and you will remember that they were created by God in order that theseats in heaven left vacant by the fall of Lucifer and his rebelliousangels might be filled again. Lucifer, we are told, was a son of themorning, a radiant and mighty angel; yet he fell: he fell and therefell with him a third part of the host of heaven: he fell and washurled with his rebellious angels into hell. What his sin was we cannotsay. Theologians consider that it was the sin of pride, the sinfulthought conceived in an instant: NON SERVIAM: I WILL NOT SERVE. Thatinstant was his ruin.He offended the majesty of God by the sinful thought of one instant andGod cast him out of heaven into hell for ever.--Adam and Eve were then created by God and placed in Eden, in theplain of Damascus, that lovely garden resplendent with sunlight andcolour, teeming with luxuriant vegetation. The fruitful earth gave themher bounty: beasts and birds were their willing servants: they knew notthe ills our flesh is heir to, disease and poverty and death: all thata great and generous God could do for them was done. But there was onecondition imposed on them by God: obedience to His word. They were notto eat of the fruit of the forbidden tree.--Alas, my dear little boys, they too fell. The devil, once a shiningangel, a son of the morning, now a foul fiend came in the shape of aserpent, the subtlest of all the beasts of the field. He envied them.He, the fallen great one, could not bear to think that man, a being ofclay, should possess the inheritance which he by his sin had forfeitedfor ever. He came to the woman, the weaker vessel, and poured thepoison of his eloquence into her ear, promising her--O, the blasphemyof that promise!--that if she and Adam ate of the forbidden fruit theywould become as gods, nay as God Himself. Eve yielded to the wiles ofthe archtempter. She ate the apple and gave it also to Adam who had notthe moral courage to resist her. The poison tongue of Satan had doneits work. They fell.--And then the voice of God was heard in that garden, calling Hiscreature man to account: and Michael, prince of the heavenly host, witha sword of flame in his hand, appeared before the guilty pair and drovethem forth from Eden into the world, the world of sickness andstriving, of cruelty and disappointment, of labour and hardship, toearn their bread in the sweat of their brow. But even then how mercifulwas God! He took pity on our poor degraded parents and promised that inthe fullness of time He would send down from heaven One who wouldredeem them, make them once more children of God and heirs to thekingdom of heaven: and that One, that Redeemer of fallen man, was to beGod's only begotten Son, the Second Person of the Most Blessed Trinity,the Eternal Word.--He came. He was born of a virgin pure, Mary the virgin mother. Hewas born in a poor cowhouse in Judea and lived as a humble carpenterfor thirty years until the hour of His mission had come. And then,filled with love for men, He went forth and called to men to hear thenew gospel.--Did they listen? Yes, they listened but would not hear. He wasseized and bound like a common criminal, mocked at as a fool, set asideto give place to a public robber, scourged with five thousand lashes,crowned with a crown of thorns, hustled through the streets by thejewish rabble and the Roman soldiery, stripped of his garments andhanged upon a gibbet and His side was pierced with a lance and from thewounded body of our Lord water and blood issued continually.--Yet even then, in that hour of supreme agony, Our Merciful Redeemer hadpity for mankind. Yet even there, on the hill of Calvary, He foundedthe holy catholic church against which, it is promised, the gates ofhell shall not prevail. He founded it upon the rock of ages, andendowed it with His grace, with sacraments and sacrifice, and promisedthat if men would obey the word of His church they would still enterinto eternal life; but if, after all that had been done for them, theystill persisted in their wickedness, there remained for them aneternity of torment: hell.The preacher's voice sank. He paused, joined his palms for an instant,parted them. Then he resumed:--Now let us try for a moment to realize, as far as we can, the natureof that abode of the damned which the justice of an offended God hascalled into existence for the eternal punishment of sinners. Hell is astrait and dark and foul-smelling prison, an abode of demons and lostsouls, filled with fire and smoke. The straitness of this prison houseis expressly designed by God to punish those who refused to be bound byHis laws. In earthly prisons the poor captive has at least some libertyof movement, were it only within the four walls of his cell or in thegloomy yard of his prison. Not so in hell. There, by reason of thegreat number of the damned, the prisoners are heaped together in theirawful prison, the walls of which are said to be four thousand milesthick: and the damned are so utterly bound and helpless that, as ablessed saint, saint Anselm, writes in his book on similitudes, theyare not even able to remove from the eye a worm that gnaws it.--They lie in exterior darkness. For, remember, the fire of hell givesforth no light. As, at the command of God, the fire of the Babylonianfurnace lost its heat but not its light, so, at the command of God, thefire of hell, while retaining the intensity of its heat, burnseternally in darkness. It is a never ending storm of darkness, darkflames and dark smoke of burning brimstone, amid which the bodies areheaped one upon another without even a glimpse of air. Of all theplagues with which the land of the Pharaohs were smitten one plaguealone, that of darkness, was called horrible. What name, then, shall wegive to the darkness of hell which is to last not for three days alonebut for all eternity?--The horror of this strait and dark prison is increased by its awfulstench. All the filth of the world, all the offal and scum of theworld, we are told, shall run there as to a vast reeking sewer when theterrible conflagration of the last day has purged the world. Thebrimstone, too, which burns there in such prodigious quantity fills allhell with its intolerable stench; and the bodies of the damnedthemselves exhale such a pestilential odour that, as saint Bonaventuresays, one of them alone would suffice to infect the whole world. Thevery air of this world, that pure element, becomes foul andunbreathable when it has been long enclosed. Consider then what must bethe foulness of the air of hell. Imagine some foul and putrid corpsethat has lain rotting and decomposing in the grave, a jelly-like massof liquid corruption. Imagine such a corpse a prey to flames, devouredby the fire of burning brimstone and giving off dense choking fumes ofnauseous loathsome decomposition. And then imagine this sickeningstench, multiplied a millionfold and a millionfold again from themillions upon millions of fetid carcasses massed together in thereeking darkness, a huge and rotting human fungus. Imagine all this,and you will have some idea of the horror of the stench of hell.--But this stench is not, horrible though it is, the greatest physicaltorment to which the damned are subjected. The torment of fire is thegreatest torment to which the tyrant has ever subjected his fellowcreatures. Place your finger for a moment in the flame of a candle andyou will feel the pain of fire. But our earthly fire was created by Godfor the benefit of man, to maintain in him the spark of life and tohelp him in the useful arts, whereas the fire of hell is of anotherquality and was created by God to torture and punish the unrepentantsinner. Our earthly fire also consumes more or less rapidly accordingas the object which it attacks is more or less combustible, so thathuman ingenuity has even succeeded in inventing chemical preparationsto check or frustrate its action. But the sulphurous brimstone whichburns in hell is a substance which is specially designed to burn forever and for ever with unspeakable fury. Moreover, our earthly firedestroys at the same time as it burns, so that the more intense it isthe shorter is its duration; but the fire of hell has this property,that it preserves that which it burns, and, though it rages withincredible intensity, it rages for ever.--Our earthly fire again, no matter how fierce or widespread it may be,is always of a limited extent; but the lake of fire in hell isboundless, shoreless and bottomless. It is on record that the devilhimself, when asked the question by a certain soldier, was obliged toconfess that if a whole mountain were thrown into the burning ocean ofhell it would be burned up In an instant like a piece of wax. And thisterrible fire will not afflict the bodies of the damned only fromwithout, but each lost soul will be a hell unto itself, the boundlessfire raging in its very vitals. O, how terrible is the lot of thosewretched beings! The blood seethes and boils in the veins, the brainsare boiling in the skull, the heart in the breast glowing and bursting,the bowels a red-hot mass of burning pulp, the tender eyes flaming likemolten balls.--And yet what I have said as to the strength and quality andboundlessness of this fire is as nothing when compared to itsintensity, an intensity which it has as being the instrument chosen bydivine design for the punishment of soul and body alike. It is a firewhich proceeds directly from the ire of God, working not of its ownactivity but as an instrument of Divine vengeance. As the waters ofbaptism cleanse the soul with the body, so do the fires of punishmenttorture the spirit with the flesh. Every sense of the flesh is torturedand every faculty of the soul therewith: the eyes with impenetrableutter darkness, the nose with noisome odours, the ears with yells andhowls and execrations, the taste with foul matter, leprous corruption,nameless suffocating filth, the touch with redhot goads and spikes,with cruel tongues of flame. And through the several torments of thesenses the immortal soul is tortured eternally in its very essence amidthe leagues upon leagues of glowing fires kindled in the abyss by theoffended majesty of the Omnipotent God and fanned into everlasting andever-increasing fury by the breath of the anger of the God-head.--Consider finally that the torment of this infernal prison isincreased by the company of the damned themselves. Evil company onearth is so noxious that the plants, as if by instinct, withdraw fromthe company of whatsoever is deadly or hurtful to them. In hell alllaws are overturned--there is no thought of family or country, ofties, of relationships. The damned howl and scream at one another,their torture and rage intensified by the presence of beings torturedand raging like themselves. All sense of humanity is forgotten. Theyells of the suffering sinners fill the remotest corners of the vastabyss. The mouths of the damned are full of blasphemies against God andof hatred for their fellow sufferers and of curses against those soulswhich were their accomplices in sin. In olden times it was the customto punish the parricide, the man who had raised his murderous handagainst his father, by casting him into the depths of the sea in a sackin which were placed a cock, a monkey, and a serpent. The intention ofthose law-givers who framed such a law, which seems cruel in our times,was to punish the criminal by the company of hurtful and hatefulbeasts. But what is the fury of those dumb beasts compared with thefury of execration which bursts from the parched lips and achingthroats of the damned in hell when they behold in their companions inmisery those who aided and abetted them in sin, those whose words sowedthe first seeds of evil thinking and evil living in their minds, thosewhose immodest suggestions led them on to sin, those whose eyes temptedand allured them from the path of virtue. They turn upon thoseaccomplices and upbraid them and curse them. But they are helpless andhopeless: it is too late now for repentance.--Last of all consider the frightful torment to those damned souls,tempters and tempted alike, of the company of the devils. These devilswill afflict the damned in two ways, by their presence and by theirreproaches. We can have no idea of how horrible these devils are. SaintCatherine of Siena once saw a devil and she has written that, ratherthan look again for one single instant on such a frightful monster, shewould prefer to walk until the end of her life along a track of redcoals. These devils, who were once beautiful angels, have become ashideous and ugly as they once were beautiful. They mock and jeer at thelost souls whom they dragged down to ruin. It is they, the foul demons,who are made in hell the voices of conscience. Why did you sin? Why didyou lend an ear to the temptings of friends? Why did you turn asidefrom your pious practices and good works? Why did you not shun theoccasions of sin? Why did you not leave that evil companion? Why didyou not give up that lewd habit, that impure habit? Why did you notlisten to the counsels of your confessor? Why did you not, even afteryou had fallen the first or the second or the third or the fourth orthe hundredth time, repent of your evil ways and turn to God who onlywaited for your repentance to absolve you of your sins? Now the timefor repentance has gone by. Time is, time was, but time shall be no more!Time was to sin in secrecy, to indulge in that sloth and pride, tocovet the unlawful, to yield to the promptings of your lower nature, tolive like the beasts of the field, nay worse than the beasts of thefield, for they, at least, are but brutes and have no reason to guidethem: time was, but time shall be no more. God spoke to you by so manyvoices, but you would not hear. You would not crush out that pride andanger in your heart, you would not restore those ill-gotten goods, youwould not obey the precepts of your holy church nor attend to yourreligious duties, you would not abandon those wicked companions, youwould not avoid those dangerous temptations. Such is the language ofthose fiendish tormentors, words of taunting and of reproach, of hatredand of disgust. Of disgust, yes! For even they, the very devils, whenthey sinned, sinned by such a sin as alone was compatible with suchangelical natures, a rebellion of the intellect: and they, even they,the foul devils must turn away, revolted and disgusted, from thecontemplation of those unspeakable sins by which degraded man outragesand defiles the temple of the Holy Ghost, defiles and pollutes himself.--O, my dear little brothers in Christ, may it never be our lot tohear that language! May it never be our lot, I say! In the last day ofterrible reckoning I pray fervently to God that not a single soul ofthose who are in this chapel today may be found among those miserablebeings whom the Great Judge shall command to depart for ever from Hissight, that not one of us may ever hear ringing in his ears the awfulsentence of rejection: DEPART FROM ME, YE CURSED, INTO EVERLASTING FIREWHICH WAS PREPARED FOR THE DEVIL AND HIS ANGELS!He came down the aisle of the chapel, his legs shaking and the scalp ofhis head trembling as though it had been touched by ghostly fingers. Hepassed up the staircase and into the corridor along the walls of whichthe overcoats and waterproofs hung like gibbeted malefactors, headlessand dripping and shapeless. And at every step he feared that he hadalready died, that his soul had been wrenched forth of the sheath ofhis body, that he was plunging headlong through space.He could not grip the floor with his feet and sat heavily at his desk,opening one of his books at random and poring over it. Every word forhim. It was true. God was almighty. God could call him now, call him ashe sat at his desk, before he had time to be conscious of the summons.God had called him. Yes? What? Yes? His flesh shrank together as itfelt the approach of the ravenous tongues of flames, dried up as itfelt about it the swirl of stifling air. He had died. Yes. He wasjudged. A wave of fire swept through his body: the first. Again a wave.His brain began to glow. Another. His brain was simmering and bubblingwithin the cracking tenement of the skull. Flames burst forth from hisskull like a corolla, shrieking like voices:--Hell! Hell! Hell! Hell! Hell!Voices spoke near him:--On hell.--I suppose he rubbed it into you well.--You bet he did. He put us all into a blue funk.--That's what you fellows want: and plenty of it to make you work.He leaned back weakly in his desk. He had not died. God had spared himstill. He was still in the familiar world of the school. Mr Tate andVincent Heron stood at the window, talking, jesting, gazing out at thebleak rain, moving their heads.--I wish it would clear up. I had arranged to go for a spin on thebike with some fellows out by Malahide. But the roads must beknee-deep.--It might clear up, sir.The voices that he knew so well, the common words, the quiet of theclassroom when the voices paused and the silence was filled by thesound of softly browsing cattle as the other boys munched their lunchestranquilly, lulled his aching soul.There was still time. O Mary, refuge of sinners, intercede for him! OVirgin Undefiled, save him from the gulf of death!The English lesson began with the hearing of the history. Royalpersons, favourites, intriguers, bishops, passed like mute phantomsbehind their veil of names. All had died: all had been judged. What didit profit a man to gain the whole world if he lost his soul? At last hehad understood: and human life lay around him, a plain of peace whereonant-like men laboured in brotherhood, their dead sleeping under quietmounds. The elbow of his companion touched him and his heart wastouched: and when he spoke to answer a question of his master he heardhis own voice full of the quietude of humility and contrition.His soul sank back deeper into depths of contrite peace, no longer ableto suffer the pain of dread, and sending forth, as he sank, a faintprayer. Ah yes, he would still be spared; he would repent in his heartand be forgiven; and then those above, those in heaven, would see whathe would do to make up for the past: a whole life, every hour of life.Only wait.--All, God! All, all!A messenger came to the door to say that confessions were being heardin the chapel. Four boys left the room; and he heard others passingdown the corridor. A tremulous chill blew round his heart, no strongerthan a little wind, and yet, listening and suffering silently, heseemed to have laid an ear against the muscle of his own heart, feelingit close and quail, listening to the flutter of its ventricles.No escape. He had to confess, to speak out in words what he had doneand thought, sin after sin. How? How?--Father, I...The thought slid like a cold shining rapier into his tender flesh:confession. But not there in the chapel of the college. He wouldconfess all, every sin of deed and thought, sincerely; but not thereamong his school companions. Far away from there in some dark place hewould murmur out his own shame; and he besought God humbly not to beoffended with him if he did not dare to confess in the college chapeland in utter abjection of spirit he craved forgiveness mutely of theboyish hearts about him.Time passed.He sat again in the front bench of the chapel. The daylight without wasalready failing and, as it fell slowly through the dull red blinds, itseemed that the sun of the last day was going down and that all soulswere being gathered for the judgement.--I AM CAST AWAY FROM THE SIGHT OF THINE EYES: words taken, my dearlittle brothers in Christ, from the Book of Psalms, thirtieth chapter,twenty-third verse. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of theHoly Ghost. Amen.The preacher began to speak in a quiet friendly tone. His face was kindand he joined gently the fingers of each hand, forming a frail cage bythe union of their tips.--This morning we endeavoured, in our reflection upon hell, to makewhat our holy founder calls in his book of spiritual exercises, thecomposition of place. We endeavoured, that is, to imagine with thesenses of the mind, in our imagination, the material character of thatawful place and of the physical torments which all who are in hell endure.This evening we shall consider for a few moments the nature of thespiritual torments of hell.--Sin, remember, is a twofold enormity. It is a base consent to thepromptings of our corrupt nature to the lower instincts, to that whichis gross and beast-like; and it is also a turning away from the counselof our higher nature, from all that is pure and holy, from the Holy GodHimself. For this reason mortal sin is punished in hell by twodifferent forms of punishment, physical and spiritual.Now of all these spiritual pains by far the greatest is the pain ofloss, so great, in fact, that in itself it is a torment greater thanall the others. Saint Thomas, the greatest doctor of the church, theangelic doctor, as he is called, says that the worst damnation consistsin this, that the understanding of man is totally deprived of divinelight and his affection obstinately turned away from the goodness ofGod. God, remember, is a being infinitely good, and therefore the lossof such a being must be a loss infinitely painful. In this life we havenot a very clear idea of what such a loss must be, but the damned inhell, for their greater torment, have a full understanding of thatwhich they have lost, and understand that they have lost it throughtheir own sins and have lost it for ever. At the very instant of deaththe bonds of the flesh are broken asunder and the soul at once fliestowards God as towards the centre of her existence. Remember, my dearlittle boys, our souls long to be with God. We come from God, we liveby God, we belong to God: we are His, inalienably His. God loves with adivine love every human soul, and every human soul lives in that love.How could it be otherwise? Every breath that we draw, every thought ofour brain, every instant of life proceeds from God's inexhaustiblegoodness. And if it be pain for a mother to be parted from her child,for a man to be exiled from hearth and home, for friend to be sunderedfrom friend, O think what pain, what anguish it must be for the poorsoul to be spurned from the presence of the supremely good and lovingCreator Who has called that soul into existence from nothingness andsustained it in life and loved it with an immeasurable love. This,then, to be separated for ever from its greatest good, from God, and tofeel the anguish of that separation, knowing full well that it isunchangeable: this is the greatest torment which the created soul iscapable of bearing, POENA DAMNI, the pain of loss.The second pain which will afflict the souls of the damned in hell isthe pain of conscience. Just as in dead bodies worms are engendered byputrefaction, so in the souls of the lost there arises a perpetualremorse from the putrefaction of sin, the sting of conscience, theworm, as Pope Innocent the Third calls it, of the triple sting. Thefirst sting inflicted by this cruel worm will be the memory of pastpleasures. O what a dreadful memory will that be! In the lake ofall-devouring flame the proud king will remember the pomps of hiscourt, the wise but wicked man his libraries and instruments ofresearch, the lover of artistic pleasures his marbles and pictures andother art treasures, he who delighted in the pleasures of the table hisgorgeous feasts, his dishes prepared with such delicacy, his choicewines; the miser will remember his hoard of gold, the robber hisill-gotten wealth, the angry and revengeful and merciless murdererstheir deeds of blood and violence in which they revelled, the impureand adulterous the unspeakable and filthy pleasures in which theydelighted. They will remember all this and loathe themselves and theirsins. For how miserable will all those pleasures seem to the soulcondemned to suffer in hellfire for ages and ages. How they will rageand fume to think that they have lost the bliss of heaven for the drossof earth, for a few pieces of metal, for vain honours, for bodilycomforts, for a tingling of the nerves. They will repent indeed: andthis is the second sting of the worm of conscience, a late andfruitless sorrow for sins committed. Divine justice insists that theunderstanding of those miserable wretches be fixed continually on thesins of which they were guilty, and moreover, as saint Augustine pointsout, God will impart to them His own knowledge of sin, so that sin willappear to them in all its hideous malice as it appears to the eyes ofGod Himself. They will behold their sins in all their foulness andrepent but it will be too late and then they will bewail the goodoccasions which they neglected. This is the last and deepest and mostcruel sting of the worm of conscience. The conscience will say: You hadtime and opportunity to repent and would not. You were brought upreligiously by your parents. You had the sacraments and grace andindulgences of the church to aid you. You had the minister of God topreach to you, to call you back when you had strayed, to forgive youyour sins, no matter how many, how abominable, if only you hadconfessed and repented. No. You would not. You flouted the ministersof holy religion, you turned your back on the confessional, youwallowed deeper and deeper in the mire of sin. God appealed to you,threatened you, entreated you to return to Him. O, what shame, whatmisery! The Ruler of the universe entreated you, a creature of clay, tolove Him Who made you and to keep His law. No. You would not. And now,though you were to flood all hell with your tears if you could stillweep, all that sea of repentance would not gain for you what a singletear of true repentance shed during your mortal life would have gainedfor you. You implore now a moment of earthly life wherein to repent: Invain. That time is gone: gone for ever.--Such is the threefold sting of conscience, the viper which gnaws thevery heart's core of the wretches in hell, so that filled with hellishfury they curse themselves for their folly and curse the evilcompanions who have brought them to such ruin and curse the devils whotempted them in life and now mock them in eternity and even revile andcurse the Supreme Being Whose goodness and patience they scorned andslighted but Whose justice and power they cannot evade.--The next spiritual pain to which the damned are subjected is thepain of extension. Man, in this earthly life, though he be capable ofmany evils, is not capable of them all at once, inasmuch as one evilcorrects and counteracts another just as one poison frequently correctsanother. In hell, on the contrary, one torment, instead ofcounteracting another, lends it still greater force: and, moreover, asthe internal faculties are more perfect than the external senses, soare they more capable of suffering. Just as every sense is afflictedwith a fitting torment, so is every spiritual faculty; the fancy withhorrible images, the sensitive faculty with alternate longing and rage,the mind and understanding with an interior darkness more terrible eventhan the exterior darkness which reigns in that dreadful prison. Themalice, impotent though it be, which possesses these demon souls is anevil of boundless extension, of limitless duration, a frightful stateof wickedness which we can scarcely realize unless we bear in mind theenormity of sin and the hatred God bears to it.--Opposed to this pain of extension and yet coexistent with it we havethe pain of intensity. Hell is the centre of evils and, as you know,things are more intense at their centres than at their remotest points.There are no contraries or admixtures of any kind to temper or softenin the least the pains of hell. Nay, things which are good inthemselves become evil in hell. Company, elsewhere a source of comfortto the afflicted, will be there a continual torment: knowledge, so muchlonged for as the chief good of the intellect, will there be hatedworse than ignorance: light, so much coveted by all creatures from thelord of creation down to the humblest plant in the forest, will beloathed intensely. In this life our sorrows are either not very long ornot very great because nature either overcomes them by habits or putsan end to them by sinking under their weight. But in hell the tormentscannot be overcome by habit, for while they are of terrible intensitythey are at the same time of continual variety, each pain, so to speak,taking fire from another and re-endowing that which has enkindled itwith a still fiercer flame. Nor can nature escape from these intenseand various tortures by succumbing to them for the soul is sustainedand maintained in evil so that its suffering may be the greater.Boundless extension of torment, incredible intensity of suffering,unceasing variety of torture--this is what the divine majesty, sooutraged by sinners, demands; this is what the holiness of heaven,slighted and set aside for the lustful and low pleasures of the corruptflesh, requires; this is what the blood of the innocent Lamb of God,shed for the redemption of sinners, trampled upon by the vilest of thevile, insists upon.--Last and crowning torture of all the tortures of that awful place isthe eternity of hell. Eternity! O, dread and dire word. Eternity! Whatmind of man can understand it? And remember, it is an eternity of pain.Even though the pains of hell were not so terrible as they are, yetthey would become infinite, as they are destined to last for ever. Butwhile they are everlasting they are at the same time, as you know,intolerably intense, unbearably extensive. To bear even the sting of aninsect for all eternity would be a dreadful torment. What must it be,then, to bear the manifold tortures of hell for ever? For ever! For alleternity! Not for a year or for an age but for ever. Try to imagine theawful meaning of this. You have often seen the sand on the seashore.How fine are its tiny grains! And how many of those tiny little grainsgo to make up the small handful which a child grasps in its play. Nowimagine a mountain of that sand, a million miles high, reaching fromthe earth to the farthest heavens, and a million miles broad,extending to remotest space, and a million miles in thickness;and imagine such an enormous mass of countless particles of sandmultiplied as often as there are leaves in the forest, drops of waterin the mighty ocean, feathers on birds, scales on fish, hairs onanimals, atoms in the vast expanse of the air: and imagine that at theend of every million years a little bird came to that mountain andcarried away in its beak a tiny grain of that sand. How many millionsupon millions of centuries would pass before that bird had carried awayeven a square foot of that mountain, how many eons upon eons of agesbefore it had carried away all? Yet at the end of that immense stretchof time not even one instant of eternity could be said to have ended.At the end of all those billions and trillions of years eternity wouldhave scarcely begun. And if that mountain rose again after it had beenall carried away, and if the bird came again and carried it all awayagain grain by grain, and if it so rose and sank as many times as thereare stars in the sky, atoms in the air, drops of water in the sea,leaves on the trees, feathers upon birds, scales upon fish, hairs uponanimals, at the end of all those innumerable risings and sinkings ofthat immeasurably vast mountain not one single instant of eternitycould be said to have ended; even then, at the end of such a period,after that eon of time the mere thought of which makes our very brainreel dizzily, eternity would scarcely have begun.--A holy saint (one of our own fathers I believe it was) was oncevouchsafed a vision of hell. It seemed to him that he stood in themidst of a great hall, dark and silent save for the ticking of a greatclock. The ticking went on unceasingly; and it seemed to this saintthat the sound of the ticking was the ceaseless repetition of thewords--ever, never; ever, never. Ever to be in hell, never to be in heaven;ever to be shut off from the presence of God, never to enjoy thebeatific vision; ever to be eaten with flames, gnawed by vermin, goadedwith burning spikes, never to be free from those pains; ever to havethe conscience upbraid one, the memory enrage, the mind filled withdarkness and despair, never to escape; ever to curse and revile thefoul demons who gloat fiendishly over the misery of their dupes, neverto behold the shining raiment of the blessed spirits; ever to cry outof the abyss of fire to God for an instant, a single instant, ofrespite from such awful agony, never to receive, even for an instant,God's pardon; ever to suffer, never to enjoy; ever to be damned, neverto be saved; ever, never; ever, never. O, what a dreadful punishment!An eternity of endless agony, of endless bodily and spiritual torment,without one ray of hope, without one moment of cessation, of agonylimitless in intensity, of torment infinitely varied, of torture thatsustains eternally that which it eternally devours, of anguish thateverlastingly preys upon the spirit while it racks the flesh, aneternity, every instant of which is itself an eternity of woe. Such isthe terrible punishment decreed for those who die in mortal sin by analmighty and a just God.--Yes, a just God! Men, reasoning always as men, are astonished thatGod should mete out an everlasting and infinite punishment in the firesof hell for a single grievous sin. They reason thus because, blinded bythe gross illusion of the flesh and the darkness of humanunderstanding, they are unable to comprehend the hideous malice ofmortal sin. They reason thus because they are unable to comprehend thateven venial sin is of such a foul and hideous nature that even if theomnipotent Creator could end all the evil and misery in the world, thewars, the diseases, the robberies, the crimes, the deaths, the murders,on condition that he allowed a single venial sin to pass unpunished, asingle venial sin, a lie, an angry look, a moment of wilful sloth, He,the great omnipotent God could not do so because sin, be it in thoughtor deed, is a transgression of His law and God would not be God if Hedid not punish the transgressor.--A sin, an instant of rebellious pride of the intellect, made Luciferand a third part of the cohort of angels fall from their glory. A sin,an instant of folly and weakness, drove Adam and Eve out of Eden andbrought death and suffering into the world. To retrieve theconsequences of that sin the Only Begotten Son of God came down toearth, lived and suffered and died a most painful death, hanging forthree hours on the cross.--O, my dear little brethren in Christ Jesus, will we then offend thatgood Redeemer and provoke His anger? Will we trample again upon thattorn and mangled corpse? Will we spit upon that face so full of sorrowand love? Will we too, like the cruel jews and the brutal soldiers,mock that gentle and compassionate Saviour Who trod alone for our sakethe awful wine-press of sorrow? Every word of sin is a wound in Histender side. Every sinful act is a thorn piercing His head. Everyimpure thought, deliberately yielded to, is a keen lance transfixing thatsacred and loving heart. No, no. It is impossible for any human being todo that which offends so deeply the divine majesty, that which is punishedby an eternity of agony, that which crucifies again the Son of God andmakes a mockery of Him.--I pray to God that my poor words may have availed today to confirmin holiness those who are in a state of grace, to strengthen thewavering, to lead back to the state of grace the poor soul that hasstrayed if any such be among you. I pray to God, and do you pray withme, that we may repent of our sins. I will ask you now, all of you, torepeat after me the act of contrition, kneeling here in this humblechapel in the presence of God. He is there in the tabernacle burningwith love for mankind, ready to comfort the afflicted. Be not afraid.No matter how many or how foul the sins if you only repent of them theywill be forgiven you. Let no worldly shame hold you back. God is stillthe merciful Lord who wishes not the eternal death of the sinner butrather that he be converted and live.--He calls you to Him. You are His. He made you out of nothing. Heloved you as only a God can love. His arms are open to receive you eventhough you have sinned against Him. Come to Him, poor sinner, poor vainand erring sinner. Now is the acceptable time. Now is the hour.The priest rose and, turning towards the altar, knelt upon the stepbefore the tabernacle in the fallen gloom. He waited till all in thechapel had knelt and every least noise was still. Then, raising hishead, he repeated the act of contrition, phrase by phrase, withfervour. The boys answered him phrase by phrase. Stephen, his tonguecleaving to his palate, bowed his head, praying with his heart.--O my God!----O my God!----I am heartily sorry----I am heartily sorry----for having offended Thee----for having offended Thee----and I detest my sins----and I detest my sins----above every other evil----above every other evil----because they displease Thee, my God----because they displease Thee, my God----Who art so deserving----Who art so deserving----of all my love----of all my love----and I firmly purpose----and I firmly purpose----by Thy holy grace----by Thy holy grace----never more to offend Thee----never more to offend Thee----and to amend my life----and to amend my life--He went up to his room after dinner in order to be alone with his soul,and at every step his soul seemed to sigh; at every step his soulmounted with his feet, sighing in the ascent, through a region ofviscid gloom.He halted on the landing before the door and then, grasping theporcelain knob, opened the door quickly. He waited in fear, his soulpining within him, praying silently that death might not touch his browas he passed over the threshold, that the fiends that inhabit darknessmight not be given power over him. He waited still at the threshold asat the entrance to some dark cave. Faces were there; eyes: they waitedand watched.--We knew perfectly well of course that though it was bound to come tothe light he would find considerable difficulty in endeavouring to tryto induce himself to try to endeavour to ascertain the spiritualplenipotentiary and so we knew of course perfectly well--Murmuring faces waited and watched; murmurous voices filled the darkshell of the cave. He feared intensely in spirit and in flesh but,raising his head bravely, he strode into the room firmly. A doorway, aroom, the same room, same window. He told himself calmly that thosewords had absolutely no sense which had seemed to rise murmurously fromthe dark. He told himself that it was simply his room with the dooropen.He closed the door and, walking swiftly to the bed, knelt beside it andcovered his face with his hands. His hands were cold and damp and hislimbs ached with chill. Bodily unrest and chill and weariness besethim, routing his thoughts. Why was he kneeling there like a childsaying his evening prayers? To be alone with his soul, to examine hisconscience, to meet his sins face to face, to recall their times andmanners and circumstances, to weep over them. He could not weep. Hecould not summon them to his memory. He felt only an ache of soul andbody, his whole being, memory, will, understanding, flesh, benumbedand weary.That was the work of devils, to scatter his thoughts and over-cloud hisconscience, assailing him at the gates of the cowardly andsin-corrupted flesh: and, praying God timidly to forgive him hisweakness, he crawled up on to the bed and, wrapping the blanketsclosely about him, covered his face again with his hands. He hadsinned. He had sinned so deeply against heaven and before God that hewas not worthy to be called God's child.Could it be that he, Stephen Dedalus, had done those things? Hisconscience sighed in answer. Yes, he had done them, secretly, filthily,time after time, and, hardened in sinful impenitence, he had dared towear the mask of holiness before the tabernacle itself while his soulwithin was a living mass of corruption. How came it that God had notstruck him dead? The leprous company of his sins closed about him,breathing upon him, bending over him from all sides. He strove toforget them in an act of prayer, huddling his limbs closer together andbinding down his eyelids: but the senses of his soul would not be boundand, though his eyes were shut fast, he saw the places where he hadsinned and, though his ears were tightly covered, he heard. He desiredwith all his will not to hear or see. He desired till his frame shookunder the strain of his desire and until the senses of his soul closed.They closed for an instant and then opened. He saw.A field of stiff weeds and thistles and tufted nettle-bunches. Thickamong the tufts of rank stiff growth lay battered canisters and clotsand coils of solid excrement. A faint marshlight struggling upwardsfrom all the ordure through the bristling grey-green weeds. An evilsmell, faint and foul as the light, curled upwards sluggishly out ofthe canisters and from the stale crusted dung.Creatures were in the field: one, three, six: creatures were moving inthe field, hither and thither. Goatish creatures with human faces,hornybrowed, lightly bearded and grey as india-rubber. The malice ofevil glittered in their hard eyes, as they moved hither and thither,trailing their long tails behind them. A rictus of cruel malignity litup greyly their old bony faces. One was clasping about his ribs a tornflannel waistcoat, another complained monotonously as his beard stuckin the tufted weeds. Soft language issued from their spittleless lipsas they swished in slow circles round and round the field, windinghither and thither through the weeds, dragging their long tails amidthe rattling canisters. They moved in slow circles, circling closer andcloser to enclose, to enclose, soft language issuing from their lips,their long swishing tails besmeared with stale shite, thrusting upwardstheir terrific faces...Help!He flung the blankets from him madly to free his face and neck. Thatwas his hell. God had allowed him to see the hell reserved for hissins: stinking, bestial, malignant, a hell of lecherous goatish fiends.For him! For him!He sprang from the bed, the reeking odour pouring down his throat,clogging and revolting his entrails. Air! The air of heaven! Hestumbled towards the window, groaning and almost fainting withsickness. At the washstand a convulsion seized him within; and,clasping his cold forehead wildly, he vomited profusely in agony.When the fit had spent itself he walked weakly to the window and,lifting the sash, sat in a corner of the embrasure and leaned his elbowupon the sill. The rain had drawn off; and amid the moving vapours frompoint to point of light the city was spinning about herself a softcocoon of yellowish haze. Heaven was still and faintly luminous and theair sweet to breathe, as in a thicket drenched with showers; and amidpeace and shimmering lights and quiet fragrance he made a covenant withhis heart.He prayed:--HE ONCE HAD MEANT TO COME ON EARTH IN HEAVENLY GLORY BUT WE SINNED; ANDTHEN HE COULD NOT SAFELY VISIT US BUT WITH A SHROUDED MAJESTY AND ABEDIMMED RADIANCE FOR HE WAS GOD. SO HE CAME HIMSELF IN WEAKNESS NOT INPOWER AND HE SENT THEE, A CREATURE IN HIS STEAD, WITH A CREATURESCOMELINESS AND LUSTRE SUITED TO OUR STATE. AND NOW THY VERY FACE ANDFORM, DEAR MOTHER SPEAK TO US OF THE ETERNAL NOT LIKE EARTHLY BEAUTY,DANGEROUS TO LOOK UPON, BUT LIKE THE MORNING STAR WHICH IS THY EMBLEM,BRIGHT AND MUSICAL, BREATHING PURITY, TELLING OF HEAVEN AND INFUSINGPEACE. O HARBINGER OF DAY! O LIGHT OF THE PILGRIM! LEAD US STILL ASTHOU HAST LED. IN THE DARK NIGHT, ACROSS THE BLEAK WILDERNESS GUIDE USON TO OUR LORD JESUS, GUIDE US HOME.His eyes were dimmed with tears and, looking humbly up to heaven, hewept for the innocence he had lost.When evening had fallen he left the house, and the first touch of thedamp dark air and the noise of the door as it closed behind him madeache again his conscience, lulled by prayer and tears. Confess!Confess! It was not enough to lull the conscience with a tear and aprayer. He had to kneel before the minister of the Holy Ghost and tellover his hidden sins truly and repentantly. Before he heard again thefootboard of the housedoor trail over the threshold as it opened to lethim in, before he saw again the table in the kitchen set for supper hewould have knelt and confessed. It was quite simple.The ache of conscience ceased and he walked onward swiftly through thedark streets. There were so many flagstones on the footpath of thatstreet and so many streets in that city and so many cities in theworld. Yet eternity had no end. He was in mortal sin. Even once was amortal sin. It could happen in an instant. But how so quickly? Byseeing or by thinking of seeing. The eyes see the thing, without havingwished first to see. Then in an instant it happens. But does that partof the body understand or what? The serpent, the most subtle beast ofthe field. It must understand when it desires in one instant and thenprolongs its own desire instant after instant, sinfully. It feels andunderstands and desires. What a horrible thing! Who made it to be likethat, a bestial part of the body able to understand bestially anddesire bestially? Was that then he or an inhuman thing moved by a lowersoul? His soul sickened at the thought of a torpid snaky life feedingitself out of the tender marrow of his life and fattening upon theslime of lust. O why was that so? O why?He cowered in the shadow of the thought, abasing himself in the awe ofGod Who had made all things and all men. Madness. Who could think sucha thought? And, cowering in darkness and abject, he prayed mutely tohis guardian angel to drive away with his sword the demon that waswhispering to his brain.The whisper ceased and he knew then clearly that his own soul hadsinned in thought and word and deed wilfully through his own body.Confess! He had to confess every sin. How could he utter in words tothe priest what he had done? Must, must. Or how could he explainwithout dying of shame? Or how could he have done such things withoutshame? A madman! Confess! O he would indeed to be free and sinlessagain! Perhaps the priest would know. O dear God!He walked on and on through ill-lit streets, fearing to stand still fora moment lest it might seem that he held back from what awaited him,fearing to arrive at that towards which he still turned with longing.How beautiful must be a soul in the state of grace when God looked uponit with love!Frowsy girls sat along the curbstones before their baskets. Their dankhair hung trailed over their brows. They were not beautiful to see asthey crouched in the mire. But their souls were seen by God; and iftheir souls were in a state of grace they were radiant to see: and Godloved them, seeing them.A wasting breath of humiliation blew bleakly over his soul to think ofhow he had fallen, to feel that those souls were dearer to God thanhis. The wind blew over him and passed on to the myriads and myriads ofother souls on whom God's favour shone now more and now less, stars nowbrighter and now dimmer sustained and failing. And the glimmering soulspassed away, sustained and failing, merged in a moving breath.One soul was lost; a tiny soul: his. It flickered once and wentout, forgotten, lost. The end: black, cold, void waste.Consciousness of place came ebbing back to him slowly over a vast tractof time unlit, unfelt, unlived. The squalid scene composed itselfaround him; the common accents, the burning gas-jets in the shops,odours of fish and spirits and wet sawdust, moving men and women. Anold woman was about to cross the street, an oilcan in her hand. He bentdown and asked her was there a chapel near.--A chapel, sir? Yes, sir. Church Street chapel.--Church?She shifted the can to her other hand and directed him; and, as sheheld out her reeking withered right hand under its fringe of shawl, hebent lower towards her, saddened and soothed by her voice.--Thank you.--You are quite welcome, sir.The candles on the high altar had been extinguished but the fragranceof incense still floated down the dim nave. Bearded workmen with piousfaces were guiding a canopy out through a side door, the sacristanaiding them with quiet gestures and words. A few of the faithful stilllingered praying before one of the side-altars or kneeling in thebenches near the confessionals. He approached timidly and knelt at thelast bench in the body, thankful for the peace and silence and fragrantshadow of the church. The board on which he knelt was narrow and wornand those who knelt near him were humble followers of Jesus. Jesus toohad been born in poverty and had worked in the shop of a carpenter,cutting boards and planing them, and had first spoken of the kingdom ofGod to poor fishermen, teaching all men to be meek and humble of heart.He bowed his head upon his hands, bidding his heart be meek and humblethat he might be like those who knelt beside him and his prayer asacceptable as theirs. He prayed beside them but it was hard. His soulwas foul with sin and he dared not ask forgiveness with the simpletrust of those whom Jesus, in the mysterious ways of God, had calledfirst to His side, the carpenters, the fishermen, poor and simplepeople following a lowly trade, handling and shaping the wood of trees,mending their nets with patience.A tall figure came down the aisle and the penitents stirred; and at thelast moment, glancing up swiftly, he saw a long grey beard and thebrown habit of a capuchin. The priest entered the box and was hidden.Two penitents rose and entered the confessional at either side. Thewooden slide was drawn back and the faint murmur of a voice troubledthe silence.His blood began to murmur in his veins, murmuring like a sinful citysummoned from its sleep to hear its doom. Little flakes of fire felland powdery ashes fell softly, alighting on the houses of men. Theystirred, waking from sleep, troubled by the heated air.The slide was shot back. The penitent emerged from the side of the box.The farther side was drawn. A woman entered quietly and deftly wherethe first penitent had knelt. The faint murmur began again.He could still leave the chapel. He could stand up, put one foot beforethe other and walk out softly and then run, run, run swiftly throughthe dark streets. He could still escape from the shame. Had it been anyterrible crime but that one sin! Had it been murder! Little fieryflakes fell and touched him at all points, shameful thoughts, shamefulwords, shameful acts. Shame covered him wholly like fine glowing ashesfalling continually. To say it in words! His soul, stifling andhelpless, would cease to be.The slide was shot back. A penitent emerged from the farther side ofthe box. The near slide was drawn. A penitent entered where the otherpenitent had come out. A soft whispering noise floated in vaporouscloudlets out of the box. It was the woman: soft whispering cloudlets,soft whispering vapour, whispering and vanishing.He beat his breast with his fist humbly, secretly under cover of thewooden armrest. He would be at one with others and with God. He wouldlove his neighbour. He would love God who had made and loved him. Hewould kneel and pray with others and be happy. God would look down onhim and on them and would love them all.It was easy to be good. God's yoke was sweet and light. It was betternever to have sinned, to have remained always a child, for God lovedlittle children and suffered them to come to Him. It was a terrible anda sad thing to sin. But God was merciful to poor sinners who were trulysorry. How true that was! That was indeed goodness.The slide was shot to suddenly. The penitent came out. He was next. Hestood up in terror and walked blindly into the box.At last it had come. He knelt in the silent gloom and raised his eyesto the white crucifix suspended above him. God could see that he wassorry. He would tell all his sins. His confession would be long, long.Everybody in the chapel would know then what a sinner he had been. Letthem know. It was true. But God had promised to forgive him if he wassorry. He was sorry. He clasped his hands and raised them towards thewhite form, praying with his darkened eyes, praying with all histrembling body, swaying his head to and fro like a lost creature,praying with whimpering lips.--Sorry! Sorry! O sorry!The slide clicked back and his heart bounded in his breast. The face ofan old priest was at the grating, averted from him, leaning upon ahand. He made the sign of the cross and prayed of the priest to blesshim for he had sinned. Then, bowing his head, he repeated the CONFITEORin fright. At the words MY MOST GRIEVOUS FAULT he ceased, breathless.--How long is it since your last confession, my child?--A long time, father.--A month, my child?--Longer, father.--Three months, my child?--Longer, father.--Six months?--Eight months, father.He had begun. The priest asked:--And what do you remember since that time?He began to confess his sins: masses missed, prayers not said, lies.--Anything else, my child?Sins of anger, envy of others, gluttony, vanity, disobedience.--Anything else, my child?There was no help. He murmured:--I... committed sins of impurity, father.The priest did not turn his head.--With yourself, my child?--And... with others.--With women, my child?--Yes, father.--Were they married women, my child?He did not know. His sins trickled from his lips, one by one, trickledin shameful drops from his soul, festering and oozing like a sore, asqualid stream of vice. The last sins oozed forth, sluggish, filthy.There was no more to tell. He bowed his head, overcome.The Priest was silent. Then he asked:--How old are you, my child?--Sixteen, father.The priest passed his hand several times over his face. Then, restinghis forehead against his hand, he leaned towards the grating and, witheyes still averted, spoke slowly. His voice was weary and old.--You are very young, my child, he said, and let me implore of you togive up that sin. It is a terrible sin. It kills the body and it killsthe soul. It is the cause of many crimes and misfortunes. Give it up,my child, for God's sake. It is dishonourable and unmanly. You cannotknow where that wretched habit will lead you or where it will comeagainst you. As long as you commit that sin, my poor child, you willnever be worth one farthing to God. Pray to our mother Mary to helpyou. She will help you, my child. Pray to Our Blessed Lady when thatsin comes into your mind. I am sure you will do that, will you not? Yourepent of all those sins. I am sure you do. And you will promise Godnow that by His holy grace you will never offend Him any more by thatwicked sin. You will make that solemn promise to God, will you not?--Yes, father.The old and weary voice fell like sweet rain upon his quaking parchingheart. How sweet and sad!--Do so my poor child. The devil has led you astray. Drive him back tohell when he tempts you to dishonour your body in that way--the foulspirit who hates our Lord. Promise God now that you will give up thatsin, that wretched wretched sin.Blinded by his tears and by the light of God's mercifulness he bent hishead and heard the grave words of absolution spoken and saw thepriest's hand raised above him in token of forgiveness.--God bless you, my child. Pray for me.He knelt to say his penance, praying in a corner of the dark nave; andhis prayers ascended to heaven from his purified heart like perfumestreaming upwards from a heart of white rose.The muddy streets were gay. He strode homeward, conscious of aninvisible grace pervading and making light his limbs. In spite of allhe had done it. He had confessed and God had pardoned him. His soul wasmade fair and holy once more, holy and happy.It would be beautiful to die if God so willed. It was beautiful to livein grace a life of peace and virtue and forbearance with others.He sat by the fire in the kitchen, not daring to speak for happiness.Till that moment he had not known how beautiful and peaceful life couldbe. The green square of paper pinned round the lamp cast down a tendershade. On the dresser was a plate of sausages and white pudding and onthe shelf there were eggs. They would be for the breakfast in themorning after the communion in the college chapel. White pudding andeggs and sausages and cups of tea. How simple and beautiful was lifeafter all! And life lay all before him.In a dream he fell asleep. In a dream he rose and saw that it wasmorning. In a waking dream he went through the quiet morning towardsthe college.The boys were all there, kneeling in their places. He knelt among them,happy and shy. The altar was heaped with fragrant masses of whiteflowers; and in the morning light the pale flames of the candles amongthe white flowers were clear and silent as his own soul.He knelt before the altar with his classmates, holding the altar clothwith them over a living rail of hands. His hands were trembling and hissoul trembled as he heard the priest pass with the ciborium fromcommunicant to communicant.--CORPUS DOMINI NOSTRI.Could it be? He knelt there sinless and timid; and he would hold uponhis tongue the host and God would enter his purified body.--IN VITAM ETERNAM. AMEN.Another life! A life of grace and virtue and happiness! It was true. Itwas not a dream from which he would wake. The past was past.--CORPUS DOMINI NOSTRI.The ciborium had come to him.
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