"Oh, no, no, my father!" cried Unna, clinging to his arm. "No, yon shape is but the false aspect of a fiend - I beseech you to put off from the Rock - see, we near - we near - its base!"
"Hark - hear ye not five voices telling us to near it!" answered the Chief; and he motioned to the rowers, who required no command to avoid the roar of the Gewirre.
"Death!" cried Rupert, stamping fiercely on the ground; "they heed me not!" - and he shouted again "Hither, for dear life's sake, hither!" And again, five times drowning his voice, came the echo from the Lurlei Berg, "For dear life's sake, hither!"
"Yes, hither!" sang once more the Water Spirit - "hither, 0 gallant bark! - as the brooklet to the river - as the bird to the sunny vine - flies the heart to the welcome of love!"
"Thou art avenged!" shouted the Dwarf, as he now stood visible and hideous on the Rock. "Lurline, thou art avenged!"
And from the opposite shore, the straining eyes of Rupert beheld the boat strike suddenly among the shoals - and lo, in the smoothest waves it reeled once, and vanished beneath for ever! An eddy - a rush - and the Rhine flowed on without a sign of man upon its waves. "Lost, lost!" cried Rupert, clasping his hands, and five times from the Lurlei Berg echoed "Lost!"
And Rupert the Fearnought left his treasures and his castle, and the ruins still moulder to the nightly winds: and he sought the Sea-kings of the North; they fitted out a ship for the brave stranger, and he sailed on a distant cruise. And his name was a name of dread by the shores on which the fierce beak of his war-bark descended. And the bards rang it forth to their Runic harps over the blood-red wine. But at length they heard of his deeds no more - they traced not his whereabouts - a sudden silence enwrapt him - his vessel had gone forth on a long voyage - it never returned, nor was heard of more. But still the undying Water Spirit mourns in her lonely caves - and still she fondly believes that the Wanderer will yet return. Often she sits, when the night is hushed, and the stars watch over the sleep of Earth, upon her desolate rock, and pours forth her melancholy strains. And yet the fishermen believe that she strives by her song to lure every raft and vessel that seems, to the deluded eyes of her passion, one which may contain her lover!
And still, too, when the Huntsman's horn sounds over the water - five times is the sound echoed from the Rock - the Dwarf himself may ever and anon be seen, in the new moon, walking on the heights of the Lurlei Berg, with a female form in an antique dress, devoutly believed to be the Lady of Lorchausen, - who, defrauded of a Knight, has reconciled herself to marriage with a Dwarf!
As to the moral of the tale, I am in doubt whether it is meant as a caution to heiresses or to singers; if the former, it is to be feared that the moral is not very efficacious, seeing that no less than three persons of that description have met with Ruperts within the last fortnight; but if to the latter, as is my own private opinion, it will be an encouragement to moralists ever after. Warned by the fate of their sister syren, those ladies take the most conscientious precautions, that, though they may sometimes be deserted, they should never at least be impoverished, by their lovers!
BENJAMIN DISRAELI (1804-1881) was a successful novelist before he embarked upon the political career which culminated in his elevation to leader of the Tory party and his election as prime minister; he was subsequently awarded a life peerage. He wrote several satirical fantasies in the early part of his career, beginning with The Voyage of Captain Popanilla (1828), which followed the adventures of an innocent youth from the Isle of Fantaisie in the civilised land of Vraibleusia. "The Infernal Marriage" (1832) is a classical fantasy which sarcastically retells the story of Proserpine in much the same way that "Ixion in Heaven" (first published in Bulwer-Lytton's New Monthly Magazine in 1832-33) retells another Greek myth. His novel Alroy (1833) is a more earnest romance of Jewish history with some supernatural embellishments.
Britain lost a fine fantasy writer when Disraeli decided to embark upon his real-life adventure among the Olympians; the remarkable fact that he fared better than Popanilla, Persephone or Ixion serves to reminds us that the real world can, on very rare occasions, be more rewarding than imaginary ones.
"Ixion in Heaven" inspired an even more sarcastic burlesque, "Endymion; or, A family Party on Olympus" (1842) by William Aytoun (1813-65). Aytoun was the son-inlaw of John Wilson, who was for many years the guiding light of Blackwood's Magazine (in the invented persona of "Christopher North"); Aytoun was a satirist of some note, who achieved brief celebrity when he published the verse play Firmilian (1854), which passed into obscurity along with the "Spasmodic school" of poets whose pretensions it mocked and whose fate it helped to seal.
by Benjamin Disraeli
'Ixion, King of Thessaly, famous for its horses, married Dia, daughter of Deioneus, who, in consequence of his son-inlaw's non-fulfilment of his engagements, stole away some of the monarch's steeds. Ixion concealed his resentment under the mask of friendship. He invited his father-in-law to a feast at Larissa, the capital of his kingdom; and when Deioneus arrived according to his appointment, he threw him into a pit which he had previously filled with burning coals. This treachery so irritated the neighbouring princes, that all of them refused to perform the usual ceremony by which a man was then purified of murder, and Ixion was shunned and despised by all mankind. Jupiter had compassion upon him, carried him to heaven, and introduced him to the Father of the Gods. Such a favour, which ought to have awakened gratitude in Ixion, only served to inflame his bad passions; he became enamoured of Juno, and attempted to seduce her. Juno was willing to gratify the passion of Ixion, though, according to others,' &c. - Classical Dictionary, art. 1xion'.
PART I
The thunder groaned, the wind howled, the rain fell in hissing torrents, impenetrable darkness covered the earth.
A blue and forky flash darted a momentary light over the landscape. A Doric temple rose in the centre of a small and verdant plain, surrounded on all sides by green and hanging woods.
"Jove is my only friend," exclaimed a wanderer, as he muffled himself up in his mantle; "and were it not for the porch of his temple, this night, methinks, would complete the work of my loving wife and my dutiful subjects."
The thunder died away, the wind sank into silence, the rain ceased, and the parting clouds exhibited the glittering crescent of the young moon. A sonorous and majestic voice sounded from the skies:-
'Who art thou that has no other friend than Jove"
"One whom all mankind unite in calling a wretch."
"Art thou a philospher?"
"If philosophy be endurance. But for the rest, I was sometime a king, and am now a scatterling."
"How do they call thee?"
"Ixion of Thessaly."
"Ixion of Thessaly! I thought he was a happy man. I heard that he was just married."
"Father of Gods and men! for I deem thee such, Thessaly is not Olympus. Conjugal felicity is only the portion of the Immortals!"
"Hem! What! was Dia jealous, which is common; or false, which is commoner; or both, which is commonest?"
"It may be neither. We quarrelled about nothing. Where there is little sympathy, or too much, the splitting of a straw is plot enough for a domestic tragedy. I was careless, her friends stigmatised me as callous; she cold, her friends styled her magnanimous. Public opinion was all on her side, merely because I did not choose that the world should interfere between me and my wife. Dia took the world's advice upon every point, and the world decided that she always acted rightly. However, life is life, either in a palace or a cave. I am glad you ordered it to leave off thundering."
"A cool dog this. And Dia left thee?"
"No I left her."
"What, craven?"
"Not exactly. The truth is ......'tis a long story. I was over head and ears in debt."
"Ah! that accounts for everything. Nothing so harassing as a want of money! But what lucky fellows you Mortals are with your post-obits! We Immortals are deprived of this resource. I was obliged to get up a rebellion against my father, because he k
ept me so short, and could not die."
"You could have married for money. I did."
"I had no opportunity, there was so little female society in those days. When I came out, there were no heiresses except the Parcae, confirmed old maids; and no very rich dowager, except my grandmother, old Terra."
"Just the thing; the older the better. However, I married Dia, the daughter of Deioneus, with a prodigious portion: but after the ceremony the old gentleman would not fulfil his part of the contract without my giving up my stud. Can you conceive anything more unreasonable? I smothered my resentment at the time; for the truth is, my tradesmen all renewed my credit on the strength of the match, and so we went on very well for a year, but at last they began to smell a rat, and grew importunate. I entreated Dia to interfere; but she was a paragon of daughters, and always took the side of her father. If she had only been dutiful to her husband, she would have been a perfect woman. At last I invited Deioneus to the Larissa races, with the intention of conciliating him. The unprincipled old man bought the horse that I had backed, and by which I intended to have redeemed my fortunes, and withdrew it. My book was ruined. I dissembled my rage. I dug a pit in our garden, and filled it with burning coals. As my father-in-law and myself were taking a stroll after dinner, the worthy Deioneus fell in, merely by accident. Dia proclaimed me the murderer of her father, and, as a satisfaction to her wounded feelings, earnestly requested her subjects to decapitate her husband. She certainly was the best of daughters. There was no withstanding public opinion, an infuriated rabble, and a magnanimous wife at the same time. They surrounded my palace: I cut my way through the greasy-capped multitude, sword in hand, and gained a neighbouring Court, where I solicited my brother princes to purify me from the supposed murder. If I had only murdered a subject, they would have supported me against the people; but Deioneus being a crowned head, like themselves, they declared they would not countenance so immoral a being as his son-in-law. And so, at length, after much wandering, and shunned by all my species, I am here, Jove, in much higher society than I ever expected to mingle"
"Well, thou art a frank dog, and in a sufficiently severe scrape. The Gods must have pity on those for whom men have none. It is evident that Earth is too hot for thee at present, so I think thou hadst better come and stay a few weeks with us in Heaven."
"Take my thanks for hecatombs, great Jove. Thou art, indeed, a God!"
"I hardly know whether our life will suit you. We dine at sunset; for Apollo is so much engaged that he cannot join us sooner, and no dinner goes off well without him. In the morning you are your own master, and must find amusement where you can. Diana will show you some tolerable sport. Do you shoot?"
"No arrow surer. Fear not for me, Aegiochus: I am always at home. But how am I to get to you?"
"I will send Mercury; he is the best travelling companion in the world. What ho! my Eagle!"
The clouds joined, and darkness again fell over the earth.
II
"So! tread softly. Don't be nervous. Are you sick?"
"A little nausea; 'tis nothing."
"The novelty of the motion. The best thing is a beefsteak. We will stop at Taurus and take one."
"You have been a great traveller, Mercury?"
"I have seen the world."
"Ah! a wondrous spectacle. I long to travel"
"The same thing over and over again. Little novelty and much change. I am wearied with exertion, and if I could get a pension would retire."
"And yet travel brings wisdom."
"It cures us of care. Seeing much we feel little, and learn how very petty are all those great affairs which cost us such anxiety."
"I feel that already myself. Floating in this blue aether, what the devil is my wife to me, and her dirty earth! My persecuting enemies seem so many pismires; and as for my debts, which have occasioned me so many brooding moments, honour and infamy, credit and beggary, seem to me alike ridiculous."
"Your mind is opening, Ixion. You will soon be a man of the world. To the left, and keep clear of that star."
"Who lives there?"
"The Fates know, not I. Some low people who are trying to shine into notice. 'Tis a parvenu planet, and only sprung into space within this century. We do not visit them."
"Poor devils! I feel hungry."
"All right. We shall get into Heaven by the first dinner bolt. You cannot arrive at a strange house at a better moment. We shall just have time to dress. I would not spoil my appetite by luncheon. Jupiter keeps a capital cook."
"I have heard of Nectar and Ambrosia."
"Poh! nobody touches them. They are regular oldfashioned celestial food, and merely put upon the side-table. Nothing goes down in Heaven now but infernal cookery. We took our chef from Proserpine."
"Were you ever in Hell?"
"Several times. 'Tis the fashion now among the Olympians to pass the winter there."
"Is this the season in Heaven?"
"Yes; you are lucky. Olympus is quite full."
"It was kind of Jupiter to invite me."
"Ay! he has his good points. And, no doubt, he has taken a liking to you, which is all very well. But be upon your guard. He has no heart, and is as capricious as he is tyrannical."
"Gods cannot be more unkind to me than men have been."
"All those who have suffered think they have seen the worst. A great mistake. However, you are now in the high road to preferment, so we will not be dull. There are some good fellows enough amongst us. You will like old Neptune."
"Is he there now?"
"Yes, he generally passes his summer with us. There is little stirring in the ocean at that season."
"I am anxious to see Mars."
"Oh! a brute, more a bully than a hero. Not at all in the best set. These mustachioed gentry are by no means the rage at present in Olympus. The women are all literary now, and Minerva has quite eclipsed Venus. Apollo is our hero. You must read his last work."
"I hate reading."
"So do I. I have no time, and seldom do anything in that way but glance at a newspaper. Study and action will not combine."
"I supposed -I shall find the Goddesses very proud?"
"You will find them as you find women below, of different dispositions with the same object. Venus is a flirt; Minerva a prude, who fancies she has a correct taste and a strong mind; and Juno a politician. As for the rest, faint heart never won fair lady, take a friendly hint, and do not be alarmed."
"I fear nothing. My mind mounts with my fortunes. We are above the clouds. They form beneath us a vast and snowy region, dim and irregular, as I have sometimes seen them clustering upon the horizon's ridge at sunset, like a raging sea stilled by some sudden supernatural frost and frozen into form! How bright the air above us, and how delicate its fragrant breath! I scarcely breathe, and yet my pulses beat like my first youth. I hardly feel my being. A splendour falls upon your presence. You seem, indeed, a God! Am I so glorious? This, this is Heaven!"
III
The travellers landed on a vast flight of sparkling steps of lapis-lazuli. Ascending, they entered beautiful gardens; winding walks that yielded to the feet, and accelerated your passage by their rebounding pressure; fragrant shrubs covered with dazzling flowers, the fleeting tints of which changed every moment; groups of tall trees, with strange birds of brilliant and variegated plumage, singing and reposing in their sheeny foliage, and fountains of perfumes.
Before them rose an illimitable and golden palace, with high spreading domes of pearl, and long windows of crystal. Around the huge portal of ruby was ranged a company of winged genii, who smile on Mercury as he passed them with his charge.
"The father of Gods and men is dressing," said the son of Maia. "I shall attend his toilet and inform him of your arrival. These are your rooms. Dinner will be ready in half an hour. I will call for you as I go down. You can be formally presented in the evening. At that time, inspired by liqueurs and his matchless band of wind instruments, you will agree with the world
that Aegiochus is the most finished God in existence."
IV
"Now, Ixion, are you ready?"
"Even so. What says Jove?"
"He smiled, but said nothing. He was trying on a new robe. By this time he is seated. Hark! the thunder. Come on!"
They entered a cupolaed hall. Seats of ivory and gold were ranged round a circular table of cedar, inlaid with the campaigns against the Titans, in silver exquisitely worked, a nuptial present of Vulcan. The service of gold plate threw all ideas of the King of Thessaly as to Royal magnificence into the darkest shade. The enormous plateau represented the constellations. Ixion viewed the father of Gods and men with great interest, who, however, did not notice him. He acknowledged the majesty of that countenance whose nod shook Olympus. Majestically robust and luxuriantly lusty, his tapering waist was evidently immortal, for it defied Time, and his splendid auburn curls, parted on his forehead with celestial precision, descended over cheeks glowing with the purple radiancy of perpetual manhood.
The haughty Juno was seated on his left hand and Ceres on his right. For the rest of the company there was Neptune, Latona, Minerva, and Apollo, and when Mercury and Ixion had taken their places, one seat was still vacant.
"Where is Diana?" inquired Jupiter, with a frown.
" My sister is hunting," said Apollo.
"She is always too late for dinner," said Jupiter. "No habit is less Goddess-like."
"Godlike pursuits cannot be expected to induce Goddess-like manners," said Juno, with a sneer.
"I have no doubt Diana will be here directly," said Latona, mildly.
Jupiter seemed pacified, and at that instant the absent guest returned.
"Good sport, Di?" inquired Neptune.
"Very fair, uncle. Mamma," continued the sister of Apollo, addressing herself to Juno, who she ever thus styled when she wished to conciliate her, " I have brought you a new peacock."
Juno was fond of pets, and was conciliated by the present.
"Bacchus made a great noise about this wine, Mercury," said Jupiter, "but I think with little cause. What think you?"
The Dedalus Book of British Fantasy: 19th Century (European Literary Fantasy Anthologies) Page 9
