Jurgen then went unhindered to where the God of Jurgen's grandmother
sat upon a throne, beside a sea of crystal. A rainbow, made high
and narrow like a window frame, so as to fit the throne, formed an
arch-way in which He sat: at His feet burned seven lamps, and four
remarkable winged creatures sat there chaunting softly, "Glory and
honor and thanks to Him Who liveth forever!" In one hand of the God
was a sceptre, and in the other a large book with seven red spots on
it.
There were twelve smaller thrones, without rainbows, upon each side
of the God of Jurgen's grandmother, in two semi-circles: upon these
inferior thrones sat benignant-looking elderly angels, with long
white hair, all crowned, and clothed in white robes, and having a
harp in one hand, and in the other a gold flask, about pint size.
And everywhere fluttered and glittered the multicolored wings of
seraphs and cherubs, like magnified paroquets, as they went softly
and gaily about the golden haze that brooded over Heaven, to a
continuous sound of hushed organ music and a remote and
undistinguishable singing.
Now the eyes of this God met the eyes of Jurgen: and Jurgen waited
thus for a long while, and far longer, indeed, than Jurgen
suspected.
"I fear You," Jurgen said, at last: "and, yes, I love You: and yet I
cannot believe. Why could You not let me believe, where so many
believed? Or else, why could You not let me deride, as the remainder
derided so noisily? O God, why could You not let me have faith? for
You gave me no faith in anything, not even in nothingness. It was
not fair."
And in the highest court of Heaven, and in plain view of all the
angels, Jurgen began to weep.
"I was not ever your God, Jurgen."
"Once very long ago," said Jurgen, "I had faith in You."
"No, for that boy is here with Me, as you yourself have seen. And
to-day there is nothing remaining of him anywhere in the man that is
Jurgen."
"God of my grandmother! God Whom I too loved in boyhood!" said
Jurgen then: "why is it that I am denied a God? For I have searched:
and nowhere can I find justice, and nowhere can I find anything to
worship."
"What, Jurgen, and would you look for justice, of all places, in
Heaven?"
"No," Jurgen said; "no, I perceive it cannot be considered here.
Else You would sit alone."
"And for the rest, you have looked to find your God without, not
looking within to see that which is truly worshipped in the thoughts
of Jurgen. Had you done so, you would have seen, as plainly as I now
see, that which alone you are able to worship. And your God is
maimed: the dust of your journeying is thick upon him; your vanity
is laid as a napkin upon his eyes; and in his heart is neither love
nor hate, not even for his only worshipper."
"Do not deride him, You Who have so many worshippers! At least, he
is a monstrous clever fellow," said Jurgen: and boldly he said it,
in the highest court of Heaven, and before the pensive face of the
God of Jurgen's grandmother.
"Ah, very probably. I do not meet with many clever people. And as
for My numerous worshippers, you forget how often you have
demonstrated that I was the delusion of an old woman."
"Well, and was there ever a flaw in my logic?"
"I was not listening to you, Jurgen. You must know that logic does
not much concern us, inasmuch as nothing is logical hereabouts."
And now the four winged creatures ceased their chaunting, and the
organ music became a far-off murmuring. And there was silence in
Heaven. And the God of Jurgen's grandmother, too, was silent for a
while, and the rainbow under which He sat put off its seven colors
and burned with an unendurable white, tinged bluishly, while the God
considered ancient things. Then in the silence this God began to
speak.
Some years ago (said the God of Jurgen's grandmother) it was
reported to Koshchei that scepticism was abroad in his universe, and
that one walked therein who would be contented with no rational
explanation. "Bring me this infidel," says Koshchei: so they brought
to him in the void a little bent gray woman in an old gray shawl.
"Now, tell me why you will not believe," says Koshchei, "in things
as they are."
Then the decent little bent gray woman answered civilly; "I do not
know, sir, who you may happen to be. But, since you ask me,
everybody knows that things as they are must be regarded as
temporary afflictions, and as trials through which we are
righteously condemned to pass, in order to attain to eternal life
with our loved ones in Heaven."
"Ah, yes," said Koshchei, who made things as they are; "ah, yes, to
be sure! and how did you learn of this?"
"Why, every Sunday morning the priest discoursed to us about Heaven,
and of how happy we would be there after death."
"Has this woman died, then?" asked Koshchei.
"Yes, sir," they told him,--"recently. And she will believe nothing
we explain to her, but demands to be taken to Heaven."
"Now, this is very vexing," Koshchei said, "and I cannot, of course,
put up with such scepticism. That would never do. So why do you not
convey her to this Heaven which she believes in, and thus put an end
to the matter?"
"But, sir," they told him, "there is no such place."
Then Koshchei reflected. "It is certainly strange that a place which
does not exist should be a matter of public knowledge in another
place. Where does this woman come from?"
"From Earth," they told him.
"Where is that?" he asked: and they explained to him as well as they
could.
"Oh, yes, over that way," Koshchei interrupted. "I remember.
Now--but what is your name, woman who wish to go to Heaven?"
"Steinvor, sir: and if you please I am rather in a hurry to be with
my children again. You see, I have not seen any of them for a long
while."
"But stay," said Koshchei: "what is that which comes into this
woman's eyes as she speaks of her children?" They told him it was
love.
"Did I create this love?" says Koshchei, who made things as they
are. And they told him, no: and that there were many sorts of love,
but that this especial sort was an illusion which women had invented
for themselves, and which they exhibited in all dealings with their
children. And Koshchei sighed.
"Tell me about your children," Koshchei then said to Steinvor: "and
look at me as you talk, so that I may see your eyes."
So Steinvor talked of her children: and Koshchei, who made all
things, listened very attentively. Of Coth she told him, of her only
son, confessing Coth was the finest boy that ever lived,--"a little
wild, sir, at first, but then you know what boys are,"--and telling
of how well Coth had done in business and of how he had even risen
to be an alderman. Koshchei, who made all things, seemed properly
impressed. Then Steinvor talked of her daughters, of Imperia and
Lindamira and Christine: of Imperia's beauty, and of Lindamira's
bravery under the mishaps of an unlucky marriage, and of Christine's
superlative housekeeping. "Fine women, sir, every one of them, with
children of their own! and to me they still seem such babies, bless
them!" And the decent little bent gray woman laughed. "I have been
very lucky in my children, sir, and in my grandchildren, too," she
told Koshchei. "There is Jurgen, now, my Coth's boy! You may not
believe it, sir, but there is a story I must tell you about
Jurgen--" So she ran on very happily and proudly, while Koshchei,
who made all things, listened, and watched the eyes of Steinvor.
Then privately Koshchei asked, "Are these children and grandchildren
of Steinvor such as she reports?"
"No, sir," they told him privately.
So as Steinvor talked Koshchei devised illusions in accordance with
that which Steinvor said, and created such children and
grandchildren as she described. Male and female he created them
standing behind Steinvor, and all were beautiful and stainless: and
Koshchei gave life to these illusions.
Then Koshchei bade her turn about. She obeyed: and Koshchei was
forgotten.
Well, Koshchei sat there alone in the void, looking not very happy,
and looking puzzled, and drumming upon his knee, and staring at the
little bent gray woman, who was busied with her children and
grandchildren, and had forgotten all about him. "But surely,
Lindamira," he hears Steinvor say, "we are not yet in Heaven."--"Ah,
my dear mother," replies her illusion of Lindamira, "to be with you
again is Heaven: and besides, it may be that Heaven is like this,
after all."--"My darling child, it is sweet of you to say that, and
exactly like you to say that. But you know very well that Heaven is
fully described in the Book of Revelations, in the Bible, as the
glorious place that Heaven is. Whereas, as you can see for yourself,
around us is nothing at all, and no person at all except that very
civil gentleman to whom I was just talking; and who, between
ourselves, seems woefully uninformed about the most ordinary
matters."
"Bring Earth to me," says Koshchei. This was done, and Koshchei
looked over the planet, and found a Bible. Koshchei opened the
Bible, and read the Revelation of St. John the Divine, while
Steinvor talked with her illusions. "I see," said Koshchei. "The
idea is a little garish. Still--!" So he replaced the Bible, and
bade them put Earth, too, in its proper place, for Koshchei dislikes
wasting anything. Then Koshchei smiled and created Heaven about
Steinvor and her illusions, and he made Heaven just such a place as
was described in the book.
"And so, Jurgen, that was how it came about," ended the God of
Jurgen's grandmother. "And Me also Koshchei created at that time,
with the seraphim and the saints and all the blessed, very much as
you see us: and, of course, he caused us to have been here always,
since the beginning of time, because that, too, was in the book."
"But how could that be done?" says Jurgen, with brows puckering.
"And in what way could Koshchei juggle so with time?"
"How should I know, since I am but the illusion of an old woman, as
you have so frequently proved by logic? Let it suffice that whatever
Koshchei wills, not only happens, but has already happened beyond
the ancientest memory of man and his mother. How otherwise could he
be Koshchei?"
"And all this," said Jurgen, virtuously, "for a woman who was not
even faithful to her husband!"
"Oh, very probably!" said the God: "at all events, it was done for a
woman who loved. Koshchei will do almost anything to humor love,
since love is one of the two things which are impossible to
Koshchei."
"I have heard that pride is impossible to Koshchei--"
The God of Jurgen's grandmother raised His white eyebrows. "What is
pride? I do not think I ever heard of it before. Assuredly it is
something that does not enter here."
"But why is love impossible to Koshchei?"
"Because Koshchei made things as they are, and day and night he
contemplates things as they are. How, then, can Koshchei love
anything?"
But Jurgen shook his sleek black head. "That I cannot understand at
all. If I were imprisoned in a cell wherein was nothing except my
verses I would not be happy, and certainly I would not be proud: but
even so, I would love my verses. I am afraid that I fall in more
readily with the ideas of Grandfather Satan than with Yours; and
without contradicting You, I cannot but wonder if what You reveal is
true."
"And how should I know whether or not I speak the truth?" the God
asked of him, "since I am but the illusion of an old woman, as you
have so frequently proved by logic."
"Well, well!" said Jurgen, "You may be right in all matters, and
certainly I cannot presume to say You are wrong: but still, at the
same time--! No, even now I do not quite believe in You."
"Who could expect it of a clever fellow, who sees so clearly through
the illusions of old women?" the God asked, a little wearily.
And Jurgen answered:
"God of my grandmother, I cannot quite believe in You, and Your
doings as they are recorded I find incoherent and a little droll.
But I am glad the affair has been so arranged that You may always
now be real to brave and gentle persons who have believed in and
have worshipped and have loved You. To have disappointed them would
have been unfair: and it is right that before the faith they had in
You not even Koshchei who made things as they are was able to be
reasonable.
"God of my grandmother, I cannot quite believe in You; but
remembering the sum of love and faith that has been given You, I
tremble. I think of the dear people whose living was confident and
glad because of their faith in You: I think of them, and in my heart
contends a blind contrition, and a yearning, and an enviousness, and
yet a tender sort of amusement colors all. Oh, God, there was never
any other deity who had such dear worshippers as You have had, and
You should be very proud of them.
"God of my grandmother, I cannot quite believe in You, yet I am not
as those who would come peering at You reasonably. I, Jurgen, see
You only through a mist of tears. For You were loved by those whom I
loved greatly very long ago: and when I look at You it is Your
worshippers and the dear believers of old that I remember. And it
seems to me that dates and manuscripts and the opinions of learned
persons are very trifling things beside what I remember, and what I
envy!"
"Who could have expected such a monstrous clever fellow ever to envy
the illusions of old women?" the God of Jurgen's grandmother asked
again: and yet His countenance was not unfriendly.
"Why, but," said Jurgen, on a sudden, "why, but my grandmother--in a
way--was right about Heaven and about You also. For certainly You
seem to exist, and to reign in just such estate as she described.
And yet, according to Your latest revelation, I too was right--in a
way--about these things being an old woman's delusions. I wonder
now--?"
"Yes, Jurgen?"
"Why, I wonder if everything is right, in a way? I wonder if that is
the large secret of everything? It would not be a bad solution,
sir," said Jurgen, meditatively.
The God smiled. Then suddenly that part of Heaven was vacant, except
for Jurgen, who stood there quite alone. And before him was the throne
of the vanished God and the sceptre of the God, and Jurgen saw that
the seven spots upon the great book were of red sealing-wax.
Jurgen was afraid: but he was particularly appalled by his
consciousness that he was not going to falter. "What, you who have
been duke and prince and king and emperor and pope! and do such
dignities content a Jurgen? Why, not at all," says Jurgen.
So Jurgen ascended the throne of Heaven, and sat beneath that
wondrous rainbow: and in his lap now was the book, and in his hand
was the sceptre, of the God of Jurgen's grandmother.
Jurgen sat thus, for a long while regarding the bright vacant courts
of Heaven. "And what will you do now?" says Jurgen, aloud. "Oh,
fretful little Jurgen, you that have complained because you had not
your desire, you are omnipotent over Earth and all the affairs of
men. What now is your desire?" And sitting thus terribly enthroned,
the heart of Jurgen was as lead within him, and he felt old and very
tired. "For I do not know. Oh, nothing can help me, for I do not
know what thing it is that I desire! And this book and this sceptre
and this throne avail me nothing at all, and nothing can ever avail
me: for I am Jurgen who seeks he knows not what."
So Jurgen shrugged, and climbed down from the throne of the God, and
wandering at adventure, came presently to four archangels. They were
seated upon a fleecy cloud, and they were eating milk and honey from
gold porringers: and of these radiant beings Jurgen inquired the
quickest way out of Heaven.
"For hereabouts are none of my illusions," said Jurgen, "and I must
now return to such illusions as are congenial. One must believe in
something. And all that I have seen in Heaven I have admired and
envied, but in none of these things could I believe, and with none
of these things could I be satisfied. And while I think of it, I
wonder now if any of you gentlemen can give me news of that Lisa who
used to be my wife?"
He described her; and they regarded him with compassion.
But these archangels, he found, had never heard of Lisa, and they
assured him there was no such person in Heaven. For Steinvor had
died when Jurgen was a boy, and so she had never seen Lisa; and in
consequence, had not thought about Lisa one way or the other, when
Steinvor outlined her notions to Koshchei who made things as they
are.
Now Jurgen discovered, too, that, when his eyes first met the eyes
of the God of Jurgen's grandmother, Jurgen had stayed motionless for
thirty-seven days, forgetful of everything save that the God of his
grandmother was love.
"Nobody else has willingly turned away so soon," Zachariel told him:
"and we think that your insensibility is due to some evil virtue in
the glittering garment which you are wearing, and of which the like
was never seen in Heaven."
"I did but search for justice," Jurgen said: "and I could not find
it in the eyes of your God, but only love and such forgiveness as
troubled me."
"Because of that should you rejoice," the four archangels said; "and
so should all that lives rejoice: and more particularly should we
rejoice that dwell in Heaven, and hourly praise our Lord God's
negligence of justice, whereby we are permitted to enter into this
place."
42.