Tag Archives: James Branch Cabell’s Jurgen: A Comedy of Justice

Commercialism and the New Philistines

Commercialism has destroyed literature… Criticism has been eliminated, for who will pay for it? The publisher, and the newspaper which lives on his advertisements, wants every book to sell…” — Aleister Crowley, 1923

With today’s further commercial leveling down of ideas in mind, I offer this parable from the foreword to James Branch Cabell’s, Jurgen: A Comedy of Justice, 1919:

“The Judging of Jurgen

Now a court was held by the Philistines to decide whether or no King Jurgen should be relegated to limbo. And when the judges were prepared… there came into the court a great tumblebug… With the creature came pages, in black and white, bearing a sword, a staff and a lance.

This insect looked at Jurgen, and its pincers rose erect in horror. The bug cried… “Now, by St. Anthony! this Jurgen must forthwith be relegated to limbo, for he is offensive and lewd and lascivious and indecent.”

“And how can that be?” says Jurgen.

“You are offensive,” the bug replied, “because this page has a sword which I choose to say is not a sword…. lewd because that page has a lance which I prefer to think is not a lance… lascivious because yonder page has a staff which I elect to declare is not a staff. And finally, you are indecent for reasons of which a description would be objectionable to me, and which therefore I must decline to reveal…”

“Well, that sounds logical,” says Jurgen, “but still… it would be no worse for an admixture of common sense. For you gentlemen can see for yourselves, by considering these pages fairly and as a whole, that these pages bear a sword, a lance and a staff, and nothing else whatever; and you will deduce, I hope, that all the lewdness is in the insectival mind of him who itches to be calling these things by other names.”

The judges said nothing… But they that guarded Jurgen, and all the other Philistines, stood to this side and to that side with their eyes shut tight, and… said: “We decline to look at the pages fairly and as a whole, because to look might… imply a doubt of what the tumblebug has decreed… as long as the tumblebug has reasons which he declines to reveal, his reasons stay unanswerable and you are plainly a prurient rascal who are making trouble for yourself.”

“To the contrary,” says Jurgen, “I am a poet, and I make literature.”

“But in Philistia to make literature and… trouble for yourself are synonymous… I know, for already we… have been pestered by three of these makers of literature. Yes, there was Edgar, whom I starved and hunted until I was tired of it: then I chased him up a back alley one night, and knocked out those annoying brains of his. And there was Walt whom I… battered from place to place, and made a paralytic of him: and him, too, I labelled offensive and lewd and lascivious and indecent. And then later there was Mark, whom I frightened into disguising himself in a clown’s suit so that nobody might suspect him of being a maker of literature. I frightened him so that he hid away the greater part of what he had made until after he was dead, and I could not get at him. That was a disgusting trick to play on me, I consider…”

“Now, but these three,” cried Jurgen, “are the glory of Philistia: and of all that Philistia has produced, it is these three alone, whom living ye made least of, that to-day are honored wherever art is honored…”

“What is art to me and my way of living?” replied the tumblebug, wearily. “I have no concern with art and letters and the other lewd idols of foreign nations. I have in charge the moral welfare of my young… and trust with St. Anthony’s aid to raise them to be God-fearing tumblebugs like me… For the rest, I have never minded dead men being well-spoken-of.  No, no, my lad: once whatever I may do means nothing to you, and once you are really rotten, you will find the tumblebug friendly enough. Meanwhile I am paid to protest that living persons are offensive and lewd and lascivious and indecent…”

Then the Philistines who stood to this side and to that side said in indignant unison: “And we… are not at all in sympathy with those who would take any protest against the tumblebug as a justification of what they are pleased to call art. The harm done by the tumblebug seems to us very slight, whereas the harm done by the self-styled artist may be very great.”

Jurgen now looked more attentively at this queer creature: and he saw that the tumblebug was malodorous, certainly, but at bottom honest and well-meaning; and this seemed to Jurgen the saddest thing he had found among the Philistines. For the tumblebug was sincere in his insane doings, and all Philistia honored him sincerely, so that there was nowhere any hope for these people.

Therefore King Jurgen addressed himself… to submit to the strange customs of the Philistines. “Now do you judge me fairly,” cried Jurgen to his judges, “if there be any justice in this mad country. And if there be none, do you relegate me to limbo or to any other place, so long as in that place this tumblebug is not omnipotent and sincere and insane.”

And Jurgen waited….”

Times may have changed somewhat between then and now, but one thing is certain: the tension between individual and culture is at the core of creative conflict. It’s what separates us from animals. Will we be animals with human potential or only egos with animal desires?

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Symbolic Thinking, Reflection, and Mid-Life

The value of religion and philosophy lies in their power to evoke ideas which the unconscious seizes upon to express itself. That value was semi-conscious in the past, though another factor today reveals the complement which would lead us into the next developmental stage: psychological reflection. The last fifty years have brought into stark relief how easily ego can lose touch with inner reality when its needs aren’t recognized and projected onto the material world.

When we can no longer relate to symbols, we lose the use of vital functions. We begin to feel signals from the unconscious to compensate the loss; symbolic, too, because it’s the language of psychic reality. They consist of a litany of disorders designed to re-connect us to the living Deity (not the one of wishful fantasy, but the one who makes demands, remember? like the one from the Old Testament, in league with Satan, who afflicted Job?)

You wouldn’t know why you felt such things as Job suffered, if you had no blueprint of the design. You’d see a doctor and take “medicine” for problems that were conceived materially (just like in the old story), because the doctor had no modern concept of psychic reality, either. One in ten adults takes anti-depressants (not to mention everything else we take), and that jumps to one in four among women in their forties and  fifties. Is it significant given the patriarchal mid-life myth we fancy we’ve outgrown — yet are discarding without having reflected on its meaning?

Jungians prescribe a heady brew of archetypal symbolism; it makes sense, but much of it is even further removed than the more recent symbols of our Christian heritage. Jung used alchemy to illustrate the connective stage between the medieval Christian world and the modern rational view; to show how the unconscious described the changing conditions. But, alchemical symbolism, too, is very abstruse to a modern mind in search of meaning.

I’ve recently been absorbed in James Branch Cabell’s 1920’s re-telling of two medieval folk tales: Jurgen: A Comedy of Justice and Figures of Earth. A friend who knew the peculiar workings of my mind saw a local PBS program on Cabell; we live in his hometown of Richmond, Va. Funny, how such books may fall into one’s hands! It sold poorly — until local courts declared it obscene, at which point sales soared briefly. It was Cabell’s own symbolic mid-life mystery.

Not only did the tales allow the unconscious to express itself through them, he lent conscious development to them by his reflective work. But Cabell was no psychologist; he was a writer and philosopher, a thoughtful man drawn to the ideas by the process he gave himself to. Like alchemical ideas, they described natural, creative instincts outside the dogma of conventional belief.

In the tales of Jurgen, the same exchange process as in the partriarchal story of Job takes a more modern, personal form. Jurgen’s journey began in search of his wife (!) who, upon returning from the market, was lured into a dark cave by a “black gentleman (poor fellow!)”:

Chapter 24, The Shortcomings of Prince Jurgen, describes a meeting with Queen Anaitis, “whom Jurgen found to be a nature myth of doubtful origin connected with the Moon… who furtively swayed the tides of life… It was the mission of Anaitis to divert and turn aside and deflect: in this the jealous Moon abetted her because sunlight makes for straightforwardness… These mysteries of their private relations, however, as revealed to Jurgen, are not very nicely repeatable.”

Jurgen, in conventional reverence to Sunday, had offended the Queen by not paying proper respect to Monday, to the unconscious. “But, you dishonored the Moon, Prince Jurgen, denying praise to the day of the Moon. Or so, at least, I have heard.”

But, Jurgen was a “monstrous clever fellow”: “I remember doing nothing of the sort. But I remember considering it unjust to devote one paltry day to the Moon’s majesty. For night is sacred to the Moon… night, the renewer and begetter of all life.”

“Why, indeed, there is something in that argument,” says Anaitis, dubiously.” Jurgen knows he must propitiate her power, for hers is “the werke of an High Deity.”

” ‘Something’, do you say! why, but to my way of thinking it proves the Moon is precisely seven times more honorable… It is merely, my dear, a matter of arithmetic.” Anaitis is apparently somewhat innocent of the rational, deceptive ways of men: “Was it for that reason you did not praise… Mondays…?”

“Why, to be sure,” said Jurgen glibly… Then Jurgen coughed and looked sidewise at his shadow.” This shadow followed Jurgen throughout his journeys; only in darkness could he cast off the silent reminders of its constant presence.

“Anaitis appeared relieved. “I shall report your explanation. Candidly, there were ill things in store for you, Prince Jurgen, because your language was misunderstood. But that which you now say puts quite a different complexion upon matters.

“Jurgen laughed, not understanding the mystery, but confident he could always say what was required of him.” Jurgen “… found that unknowingly he had in due and proper form espoused Queen Anaitis, by participating in the Breaking of the Veil, which is the marriage ceremony… His earlier relations with Dame Lisa [his wife] had, of course, no legal standing in Cocaigne, where the Church is not Christian…”

Jung discovered a language by which symbols may be more clearly understood by the rational viewpoint today, but they require reflection. Read here about a symbolic mid-life tale in more modern form.

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