Now the tale tells how the devils of Hell were in one of their churches
celebrating Christmas in such manner as the devils observe that day;
and how Jurgen came through the trapdoor in the vestry-room; and how
he saw and wondered over the creatures which inhabited this place. For
to him after the Christmas services came all such devils as his fathers
had foretold, and in not a hair or scale or talon did they differ from
the worst that anybody had been able to imagine.
"Anatomy is hereabouts even more inconsequent than in Cocaigne," was
Jurgen's first reflection. But the first thing the devils did was to
search Jurgen very carefully, in order to make sure he was not
bringing any water into Hell.
"Now, who may you be, that come to us alive, in a fine shirt of
which we never saw the like before?" asked Dithican. He had the head
of a tiger, but otherwise the appearance of a large bird, with
shining feathers and four feet: his neck was yellow, his body green,
and his feet black.
"It would not be treating honestly with you to deny that I am the
Emperor of Noumaria," said Jurgen, somewhat advancing his estate.
Now spoke Amaimon, in the form of a thick suet-colored worm going
upright upon his tail, which shone like the tail of a glowworm. He
had no feet, but under his chops were two short hands, and upon his
back were bristles such as grow upon hedgehogs.
"But we are rather overrun with emperors," said Amaimon, doubtfully,
"and their crimes are a great trouble to us. Were you a very wicked
ruler?"
"Never since I became an emperor," replied Jurgen, "has any of my
subjects uttered one word of complaint against me. So it stands to
reason I have nothing very serious with which to reproach myself."
"Your conscience, then, does not demand that you be punished?"
"My conscience, gentlemen, is too well-bred to insist on anything."
"You do not even wish to be tortured?"
"Well, I admit I had expected something of the sort. But none the
less, I will not make a point of it," said Jurgen, handsomely. "No,
I shall be quite satisfied even though you do not torture me at
all."
And then the mob of devils made a great to-do over Jurgen.
"For it is exceedingly good to have at least one unpretentious and
undictatorial human being in Hell. Nobody as a rule drops in on us
save inordinately proud and conscientious ghosts, whose self-conceit
is intolerable, and whose demands are outrageous."
"How can that be?"
"Why, we have to punish them. Of course they are not properly
punished until they are convinced that what is happening to them is
just and adequate. And you have no notion what elaborate tortures
they insist their exceeding wickedness has merited, as though that
which they did or left undone could possibly matter to anybody. And
to contrive these torments quite tires us out."
"But wherefore is this place called the Hell of my fathers?"
"Because your forefathers builded it in dreams," they told him, "out
of the pride which led them to believe that what they did was of
sufficient importance to merit punishment. Or so at least we have
heard: but if you want the truth of the matter you must go to our
Grandfather at Barathum."
"I shall go to him, then. And do my own grandfathers, and all the
forefathers that I had in the old time, inhabit this gray place?"
"All such as are born with what they call a conscience come hither,"
the devils said. "Do you think you could persuade them to go
elsewhere? For in that event, we would be deeply obliged to you.
Their self-conceit is pitiful: but it is also a nuisance, because it
prevents our getting any rest."
"Perhaps I can help you to obtain justice, and certainly to attempt
to secure justice for you is my imperial duty. But who governs this
country?"
They told him how Hell was divided into principalities that had for
governors Lucifer and Beelzebub and Belial and Ascheroth and
Phlegeton: but that over all these was Grandfather Satan, who lived
in the Black House at Barathum.
"Well, I prefer," says Jurgen, "to deal directly with your
principal, especially if he can explain the polity of this insane
and murky country. Do some of you conduct me to him in such state as
becomes an emperor!"
So Cannagosta fetched a wheelbarrow, and Jurgen got into it, and
Cannagosta trundled him away. Cannagosta was something like an ox,
but rather more like a cat, and his hair was curly.
And as they came through Chorasma, a very uncomfortable place where
the damned abide in torment, whom should Jurgen see but his own
father, Coth, the son of Smoit and Steinvor, standing there chewing
his long moustaches in the midst of an especially tall flame.
"Do you stop now for a moment!" says Jurgen, to his escort.
"Oh, but this is the most vexatious person in all Hell!" cried
Cannagosta; "and a person whom there is absolutely no pleasing!"
"Nobody knows that better than I," says Jurgen.
And Jurgen civilly bade his father good-day, but Coth did not
recognize this spruce young Emperor of Noumaria, who went about Hell
in a wheelbarrow.
"You do not know me, then?" says Jurgen.
"How should I know you when I never saw you before?" replied Coth,
irritably.
And Jurgen did not argue the point: for he knew that he and his
father could never agree about anything. So Jurgen kept silent for
that time, and Cannagosta wheeled him through the gray twilight,
descending always deeper and yet deeper into the lowlands of Hell,
until they had come to Barathum.
35.