42.
Twelve That are Fretted Hourly
So it was upon Walburga's Eve, when almost anything is rather morethan likely to happen, that Jurgen went hastily out of Heaven,without having gained or wasted any love there. St. Peter unbarredfor him, not the main entrance, but a small private door, carvedwith innumerable fishes in bas-relief, because this exit openeddirectly upon any place you chose to imagine.
"For thus," St. Peter said, "you may return without loss of time toyour own illusions."
"There was a cross," said Jurgen, "which I used to wear about myneck, through motives of sentiment, because it once belonged to mydead mother. For no woman has ever loved me save that Azra who wasmy mother--"
"I wonder if your mother told you that?" St. Peter asked him,smiling reminiscently. "Mine did, time and again. And sometimes Ihave wondered--? For, as you may remember, I was a married man,Jurgen: and my wife did not quite understand me," said St. Peter,with a sigh.
"Why, indeed," says Jurgen, "my case is not entirely dissimilar: andthe more I marry, the less I find of comprehension. I should havehad more sympathy with King Smoit, who was certainly my grandfather.Well, you conceive, St. Peter, these other women have trusted me,more or less, because they loved a phantom Jurgen. But Azra trustedme not at all, because she loved me with clear eyes. Shecomprehended Jurgen, and yet loved him: though I for one, with allmy cleverness, cannot do either of these things. None the less, inorder to do the manly thing, in order to pleasure a woman,--and amarried woman, too!--I flung away the little gold cross which wasall that remained to me of my mother: and since then, St. Peter, theillusions of sentiment have given me a woefully wide berth. So Ishall relinquish Heaven to seek a cross."
"That has been done before, Jurgen, and I doubt if much good came ofit."
"Heyday, and did it not lead to the eternal glory of the first andgreatest of the popes? It seems to me, sir, that you have eithervery little memory or very little gratitude, and I am tempted tocrow in your face."
"Why, now you talk like a cherub, Jurgen, and you ought to havebetter manners. Do you suppose that we Apostles enjoy hearing jokesmade about the Church?"
"Well, it is true, St. Peter, that you founded the Church--"
"Now, there you go again! That is what those patronizing seraphimand those impish cherubs are always telling us. You see, we Twelvesit together in Heaven, each on his white throne: and we beholdeverything that happens on Earth. Now from our station there hasbeen no ignoring the growth and doings of what you might looselycall Christianity. And sometimes that which we see makes us veryuncomfortable, Jurgen. Especially as just then some cherub is sureto flutter by, in a broad grin, and chuckle, 'But you started it.'And we did; I cannot deny that in a way we did. Yet really we neveranticipated anything of this sort, and it is not fair to tease usabout it."
"Indeed, St. Peter, now I think of it, you ought to be heldresponsible for very little that has been said or done in the shadowof a steeple. For as I remember it, you Twelve attempted to converta world to the teachings of Jesus: and good intentions ought to berespected, however drolly they may turn out."
It was apparent this sympathy was grateful to the old Saint, for hewas moved to a more confidential tone. Meditatively he stroked hislong white beard, then said with indignation: "If only they wouldnot claim sib with us we could stand it: but as it is, for centurieswe have felt like fools. It is particularly embarrassing for me, ofcourse, being on the wicket; for to cap it all, Jurgen, the littlewretches die, and come to Heaven impudent as sparrows, and expect meto let them in! From their thumbscrewings, and their auto-da-fes,and from their massacres, and patriotic sermons, and holy wars, andfrom every manner of abomination, they come to me, smirking. Andmillions upon millions of them, Jurgen! There is no form of crueltyor folly that has not come to me for praise, and no sort of criminalidiot who has not claimed fellowship with me, who was an Apostle anda gentleman. Why, Jurgen, you may not believe it, but there was aneminent bishop came to me only last week in the expectation that Iwas going to admit him,--and I with the full record of his work fortemperance, all fairly written out and in my hand!"
Now Jurgen was surprised. "But temperance is surely a virtue, St.Peter."
"Ah, but his notion of temperance! and his filthy ravings to myface, as though he were talking in some church or other! Why, theslavering little blasphemer! to my face he spoke against the firstof my Master's miracles, and against the last injunction which waslaid upon us Twelve, spluttering that the wine was unfermented! Tome he said this, look you, Jurgen! to me, who drank of that noblewine at Cana and equally of that sustaining wine we had in thelittle upper room in Jerusalem when the hour of trial was near andour Master would have us at our best! With me, who have since tastedof that unimaginable wine which the Master promised us in Hiskingdom, the busy wretch would be arguing! and would have convincedme, in the face of all my memories, that my Master, Who was a Manamong men, was nourished by such thin swill as bred this nigglingbrawling wretch to plague me!"
"Well, but indeed, St. Peter, there is no denying that wine is oftenmisused."
"So he informed me, Jurgen. And I told him by that argument he wouldprohibit the making of bishops, for reasons he would find in themirror: and that, remembering what happened at the Crucifixion, hewould clap every lumber dealer into jail. So they took him awaystill slavering," said St. Peter, wearily. "He was threatening tohave somebody else elected in my place when I last heard him: butthat was only old habit."
"I do not think, however, that I encountered any such bishop, sir,down yonder."
"In the Hell of your fathers? Oh, no: your fathers meant well, buttheir notions were limited. No, we have quite another eternal homefor these blasphemers, in a region that was fitted out long ago,when the need grew pressing to provide a place for zealousChurchmen."
"And who devised this place, St. Peter?"
"As a very special favor, we Twelve to whom is imputed the beginningand the patronizing of such abominations were permitted to designand furnish this place. And, of course, we put it in charge of ourformer confrere, Judas. He seemed the appropriate person. Equally ofcourse, we put a very special roof upon it, the best imitation whichwe could contrive of the War Roof, so that none of those grinningcherubs could see what long reward it was we Twelve who foundedChristianity had contrived for these blasphemers."
"Well, doubtless that was wise."
"Ah, and if we Twelve had our way there would be just such anotherroof kept always over Earth. For the slavering madman has left amany like him clamoring and spewing about the churches that werenamed for us Twelve, and in the pulpits of the churches that werenamed for us: and we find it embarrassing. It is the doctrine ofMahound they splutter, and not any doctrine that we ever preached oreven heard of: and they ought to say so fairly, instead of libelingus who were Apostles and gentlemen. But thus it is that the rascalsmake free with our names: and the cherubs keep track of theseantics, and poke fun at us. So that it is not all pleasure, thisbeing a Holy Apostle in Heaven, Jurgen, though once we Twelve werehappy enough." And St. Peter sighed.
"One thing I did not understand, sir: and that was when you spokejust now of the War Roof."
"It is a stone roof, made of the two tablets handed down at Sinai,which God fits over Earth whenever men go to war. For He ismerciful: and many of us here remember that once upon a time we weremen and women. So when men go to war God screens the sight of whatthey do, because He wishes to be merciful to us."
"That must prevent, however, the ascent of all prayers that are madein war-time."
"Why, but, of course, that is the roof's secondary purpose," repliedSt. Peter. "What else would you expect when the Master's teachingsare being flouted? Rumors get through, though, somehow, and horriblypreposterous rumors. For instance, I have actually heard that inwar-time prayers are put up to the Lord God to back His favoritesand take part in the murdering. Not," said the good Saint, in haste,"that I would believe even a Christian bishop to be capable of suchblasphemy:
I merely want to show you, Jurgen, what wild stories getabout. Still, I remember, back in Cappadocia--" And then St. Peterslapped his thigh. "But would you keep me gossiping here forever,Jurgen, with the Souls lining up at the main entrance like ants thatswarm to molasses! Come, out of Heaven with you, Jurgen! and back towhatever place you imagine will restore to you your own properillusions! and let me be returning to my duties."
"Well, then, St. Peter, I imagine Amneran Heath, where I flung awaymy mother's last gift to me."
"And Amneran Heath it is," said St. Peter, as he thrust Jurgen throughthe small private door that was carved with fishes in bas-relief.
And Jurgen saw that the Saint spoke truthfully.