"I must," says Jurgen, "observe this monarch Achilles before the world is a day older. A king is all very well, of course, but no husband wears a crown so as to prevent the affixion of other head-gear."
And Jurgen went down into Pseudopolis, swaggering.
* * * * *
So in the evening, just after sunset, Jurgen returned to the Hamadryad: he walked now with the aid of the ashen staff which Thersitês had given Jurgen, and Jurgen was mirthless and rather humble.
"I have observed your King Achilles," Jurgen says, "and he is a better man than I. Queen Helen, as I confess with regret, is worthily mated."
"And what have you to say about her?" inquires the Hamadryad.
"Why, there is nothing more to say than that she is worthily mated, and fit to be the wife of Achilles." For once, poor Jurgen was really miserable. "For I admire this man Achilles, I envy him, and I fear him," says Jurgen: "and it is not fair that he should have been created my superior."
"But is not Queen Helen the loveliest of ladies that you have ever seen?"
"As to that—!" says Jurgen. He led the Hamadryad to a forest pool hard-by the oak-tree in which she resided. The dusky water lay unruffled, a natural mirror. "Look!" said Jurgen, and he spoke with a downward waving of his staff.
The silence gathering in the woods was wonderful. Here the air was sweet and pure: and the little wind which went about the ilex boughs in search of night was a tender and peaceful wind, because it knew that the all-healing night was close at hand.
The Hamadryad replied, "But I see only my own face."
"It is the answer to your question, none the less. Now do you tell me your name, my dear, so that I may know who in reality is the loveliest of all the ladies I have ever seen."
The Hamadryad told him that her name was Chloris, and that she always looked a fright with her hair arranged as it was to-day, and that he was a strangely impudent fellow. So he in turn confessed to her he was King Jurgen of Eubonia, drawn from his remote kingdom by exaggerated reports as to the beauty of Queen Helen. Chloris agreed with him that rumor was in such matters invariably untrustworthy.
This led to further talk as twilight deepened: and the while that a little by a little this pretty girl was converted into a warm breathing shadow, hardly visible to the eye, the shadow of Jurgen departed from him, and he began to talk better and better. He had seen Queen Helen face to face, and other women now seemed unimportant. Whether or not he got into the graces of this Hamadryad did not greatly matter, one way or the other: and in consequence Jurgen talked with such fluency, such apposite remarks and such tenderness as astounded him.
So he sat listening with delight to the seductive tongue of that monstrous clever fellow, Jurgen. For this plump brown-haired bright-eyed little creature, this Chloris, he was honestly sorry. Into the uneventful life of a hamadryad, here in this uncultured forest, could not possibly have entered much pleasurable excitement, and it seemed only right to inject a little. "Why, simply in justice to her!" Jurgen reflected. "I must deal fairly."
Now it grew darker and darker under the trees, and in the dark nobody can see what happens. There were only two voices that talked, with lengthy pauses: and they spoke gravely of unimportant trifles, like children at play together.
"And how does a king come thus to be traveling without any retinue or even a sword about him?"
"Why, I travel with a staff, my dear, as you perceive: and it suffices me."
"Certainly it is large enough, in all conscience. Alas, young outlander, who call yourself a king! you carry the bludgeon of a highwayman, and I am afraid of it."
"My staff is a twig from Yggdrasill, the tree of universal life: Thersitês gave it me, and the sap that throbs therein arises from the Undar fountain, where the grave Norns make laws for men and fix their destinies."
"Thersitês is a scoffer, and his gifts are mockery. I would have none of them."
The two began to wrangle, not at all angrily, as to what Jurgen had best do with his prized staff. "Do you take it away from me, at any rate!" says Chloris. So Jurgen hid his staff where Chloris could not possibly see it; and he drew the Hamadryad close to him, and he laughed contentedly.
"Oh, oh! O wretched King," cried Chloris, "I fear that you will be the death of me! And you have no right to oppress me in this way, for I am not your subject."
"Rather shall you be my queen, dear Chloris, receiving all that I most prize."
"But you are too domineering: and I am afraid to be alone with you and your big staff! Ah! not without knowing what she talked about did my mother use to quote her Æolic saying, The king is cruel and takes joy in bloodshed!"
"Presently you will not be afraid of me, nor will you be afraid of my staff. Custom is all. For this likewise is an Æolic saying, The taste of the first olive is unpleasant, but the second is good."
Now for a while was silence save for the small secretive rumors of the forest. One of the large green locusts which frequent the Island of Leukê began shrilling tentatively.
"Wait now, King Jurgen, for surely I hear footsteps, and one comes to trouble us."
"It is a wind in the tree-tops: or perhaps it is a god who envies me. I pause for neither."
"Ah, but speak reverently of the Gods! For is not Love a god, and a jealous god that has wings with which to leave us?"
"Then am I a god, for in my heart is love, and in every fibre of me is love, and from me now love emanates."
"But certainly I heard somebody approaching through the forest—"
"Well, and do you not perceive I have withdrawn my staff from its hiding-place?"
"Ah, you have great faith in that staff of yours!"
"I fear nobody when I brandish it."
Another locust had answered the first one. Now the two insects were in full dispute, suffusing the warm darkness with their pertinacious whirrings.
"King of Eubonia, it is certainly true, that which you told me about olives."
"Yes, for always love begets truthfulness."
"I pray it may beget between us utter truthfulness, and nothing else, King Jurgen."
"Not 'Jurgen' now, but 'love'."
"Indeed, they tell that even so, in such deep darkness, Love came to his sweetheart Psychê."
"Then why do you complain because I piously emulate the Gods, and offer unto Love the sincerest form of flattery?" And Jurgen shook his staff at her.
"Ah, but you are strangely ready with your flattery! and Love threatened Psychê with no such enormous staff."
"That is possible: for I am Jurgen. And I deal fairly with all women, and raise my staff against none save in the way of kindness."
So they talked nonsense, in utter darkness, while the locusts, and presently a score of locusts, disputed obstinately. Now Chloris and Jurgen were invisible, even to each other, as they talked under her oak-tree: but before them the fields shone mistily under a gold-dusted dome, for this night seemed builded of stars. And the white towers of Pseudopolis also could Jurgen see, as he laughed there and took his pleasure with Chloris. He reflected that very probably Achilles and Helen were laughing thus, and were not dissimilarly occupied, out yonder, in this night of wonder.
He sighed. But in a while Jurgen and the Hamadryad were speaking again, just as inconsequently, and the locusts were whirring just as obstinately. Later the moon rose, and they all slept.
With the dawn Jurgen arose, and left this Hamadryad Chloris still asleep. He stood where he overlooked the city and the shirt of Nessus glittered in the level sun rays: and Jurgen thought of Queen Helen. Then he sighed, and went back to Chloris and wakened her with the sort of salutation that appeared her just due.
28. Of Compromises in Leukê
Now the tale tells that ten days later Jurgen and his Hamadryad were duly married, in consonance with the law of the Wood: not for a moment did Chloris consider any violation of the proprieties, so they were married the first evening she could assemble her kindred.
"Still, Chloris, I already ha
ve two wives," says Jurgen, "and it is but fair to confess it."
"I thought it was only yesterday you arrived in Leukê."
"That is true: for I came with the Equinox, over the long sea."
"Then Jugatinus has not had time to marry you to anybody, and certainly he would never think of marrying you to two wives. Why do you talk such nonsense?"
"No, it is true, I was not married by Jugatinus."
"So there!" says Chloris, as if that settled matters. "Now you see for yourself."
"Why, yes, to be sure," says Jurgen, "that does put rather a different light upon it, now I think of it."
"It makes all the difference in the world."
"I would hardly go that far. Still, I perceive it makes a difference."
"Why, you talk as if everybody did not know that Jugatinus marries people!"
"No, dear, let us be fair! I did not say precisely that."
"—And as if everybody was not always married by Jugatinus!"
"Yes, here in Leukê, perhaps. But outside of Leukê, you understand, my darling!"
"But nobody goes outside of Leukê. Nobody ever thinks of leaving Leukê. I never heard such nonsense."
"You mean, nobody ever leaves this island?"
"Nobody that you ever hear of. Of course, there are Lares and Penates, with no social position, that the kings of Pseudopolis sometimes take a-voyaging—"
"Still, the people of other countries do get married."
"No, Jurgen," said Chloris, sadly, "it is a rule with Jugatinus never to leave the island; and indeed I am sure he has never even considered such unheard-of conduct: so, of course, the people of other countries are not able to get married."
"Well, but, Chloris, in Eubonia—"
"Now if you do not mind, dear, I think we had better talk about something more pleasant. I do not blame you men of Eubonia, because all men are in such matters perfectly irresponsible. And perhaps it is not altogether the fault of the women, either, though I do think any really self-respecting woman would have the strength of character to keep out of such irregular relations, and that much I am compelled to say. So do not let us talk any more about these persons whom you describe as your wives. It is very nice of you, dear, to call them that, and I appreciate your delicacy. Still, I really do believe we had better talk about something else."
Jurgen deliberated. "Yet do you not think, Chloris, that in the absence of Jugatinus—and in, as I understand it, the unavoidable absence of Jugatinus,—somebody else might perform the ceremony?"
"Oh, yes, if they wanted to. But it would not count. Nobody but Jugatinus can really marry people. And so of course nobody else does."
"What makes you sure of that?"
"Why, because," said Chloris, triumphantly, "nobody ever heard of such a thing."
"You have voiced," said Jurgen, "an entire code of philosophy. Let us by all means go to Jugatinus and be married."
So they were married by Jugatinus, according to the ceremony with which the People of the Wood were always married by Jugatinus. First Virgo loosed the girdle of Chloris in such fashion as was customary; and Chloris, after sitting much longer than Jurgen liked in the lap of Mutinus (who was in the state that custom required of him) was led back to Jurgen by Domiducus in accordance with immemorial custom; Subigo did her customary part; then Praema grasped the bride's plump arms: and everything was perfectly regular.
Thereafter Jurgen disposed of his staff in the way Thersitês had directed: and thereafter Jurgen abode with Chloris upon the outskirts of the forest, and complied with the customs of Leukê. Her tree was a rather large oak, for Chloris was now in her two hundred and sixty-sixth year; and at first its commodious trunk sheltered them. But later Jurgen builded himself a little cabin thatched with birds' wings, and made himself more comfortable.
"It is well enough for you, my dear, in fact it is expected of you, to live in a tree-bole. But it makes me feel uncomfortably like a worm, and it needlessly emphasizes the restrictions of married life. Besides, you do not want me under your feet all the time, nor I you. No, let us cultivate a judicious abstention from familiarity: such is one secret of an enduring, because endurable, marriage. But why is it, pray, that you have never married before, in all these years?"
She told him. At first Jurgen could not believe her, but presently Jurgen was convinced, through at least two of his senses, that what Chloris told him was true about hamadryads.
"Otherwise, you are not markedly unlike the women of Eubonia," said Jurgen.
And now Jurgen met many of the People of the Wood; but since the tree of Chloris stood upon the verge of the forest, he saw far more of the People of the Field, who dwelt between the forest and the city of Pseudopolis. These were the neighbors and the ordinary associates of Chloris and Jurgen; though once in a while, of course, there would be family gatherings in the forest. But Jurgen presently had found good reason to distrust the People of the Wood, and went to none of these gatherings.
"For in Eubonia," he said, "we are taught that your wife's relatives will never find fault with you to your face so long as you keep away from them. And more than that, no sensible man expects."
Meanwhile, King Jurgen was perplexed by the People of the Field, who were his neighbors. They one and all did what they had always done. Thus Runcina saw to it that the Fields were weeded: Seia took care of the seed while it was buried in the earth: Nodosa arranged the knots and joints of the stalk: Volusia folded the blade around the corn: each had an immemorial duty. And there was hardly a day that somebody was not busied in the Fields, whether it was Occator harrowing, or Sator and Sarritor about their sowing and raking, or Stercutius manuring the ground: and Hippona was always bustling about in one place or another looking after the horses, or else Bubona would be there attending to the cattle. There was never any restfulness in the Fields.
"And why do you do these things year in and year out?" asked Jurgen.
"Why, King of Eubonia, we have always done these things," they said, in high astonishment.
"Yes, but why not stop occasionally?"
"Because in that event the work would stop. The corn would die, the cattle would perish, and the Fields would become jungles."
"But, as I understand it, this is not your corn, nor your cattle, nor your Fields. You derive no good from them. And there is nothing to prevent your ceasing this interminable labor, and living as do the People of the Wood, who perform no heavy work whatever."
"I should think not!" said Aristæus, and his teeth flashed in a smile that was very pleasant to see, as he strained at the olive-press. "Whoever heard of the People of the Wood doing anything useful!"
"Yes, but," says Jurgen, patiently, "do you think it is quite fair to yourselves to be always about some tedious and difficult labor when nobody compels you to do it? Why do you not sometimes take holiday?"
"King Jurgen," replied Fornax, looking up from the little furnace wherein she was parching corn, "you are talking nonsense. The People of the Field have never taken holiday. Nobody ever heard of such a thing."
"We should think not indeed!" said all the others, sagely.
"Ah, ah!" said Jurgen, "so that is your demolishing reason. Well, I shall inquire about this matter among the People of the Wood, for they may be more sensible."
Then as Jurgen was about to enter the forest, he encountered Terminus, perfumed with ointment, and crowned with a garland of roses, and standing stock still.
"Aha," said Jurgen, "so here is one of the People of the Wood about to go down into the Fields. But if I were you, my friend, I would keep away from any such foolish place."
"I never go down into the Fields," said Terminus.
"Oh, then, you are returning into the forest."
"But certainly not. Whoever heard of my going into the forest!"
"Indeed, now I look at you, you are merely standing here."
"I have always stood here," said Terminus.
"And do you never move?"
"No," said Terminus.
"And for what reason?"
"Because I have always stood here without moving," replied Terminus. "Why, for me to move would be a quite unheard-of thing."
So Jurgen left him, and went into the forest. And there Jurgen encountered a smiling young fellow, who rode upon the back of a large ram. This young man had his left fore-finger laid to his lips, and his right hand held an astonishing object to be thus publicly displayed.
"But, oh, dear me! now, really, sir—!" says Jurgen.
"Bah!" says the ram.
But the smiling young fellow said nothing at all as he passed Jurgen, because it is not the custom of Harpocrates to speak.
"Which would be well enough," reflected Jurgen, "if only his custom did not make for stiffness and the embarrassment of others."
Thereafter Jurgen came upon a considerable commotion in the bushes, where a satyr was at play with an oread.
"Oh, but this forest is not respectable!" said Jurgen. "Have you no ethics and morals, you People of the Wood! Have you no sense of responsibility whatever, thus to be frolicking on a working-day?"
"Why, no," responded the Satyr, "of course not. None of my people have such things: and so the natural vocation of all satyrs is that which you are now interrupting."
"Perhaps you speak the truth," said Jurgen. "Still, you ought to be ashamed of the fact that you are not lying."
"For a satyr to be ashamed of himself would be indeed an unheard-of thing! Now go away, you in the glittering shirt! for we are studying eudæmonism, and you are talking nonsense, and I am busy, and you annoy me," said the Satyr.
"Well, but in Cocaigne," said Jurgen, "this eudæmonism was considered an indoor diversion."
"And did you ever hear of a satyr going indoors?"
"Why, save us from all hurt and harm! but what has that to do with it?"
"Do not try to equivocate, you shining idiot! For now you see for yourself you are talking nonsense. And I repeat that such unheard-of nonsense irritates me," said the Satyr.
Jurgen. A Comedy of Justice Page 16
