The Dedalus Book of British Fantasy: 19th Century (European Literary Fantasy Anthologies)

by Brian Stableford

  "It pleases me, but I am fatigued, and then all wine is agreeable."

  "You have had a long journey," replied the Thunderer. "Ixion, I am glad to see you in Heaven."

  "Your Majesty arrived to-day?" inquired Minerva, to whom the King of Thessaly sat next.

  "Within this hour."

  "You must leave off talking of Time now," said Minerva, with a severe smile. "Pray is there anything new in Greece?"

  "I have not been at all in society lately."

  "No new editions of Homer? I admire him exceedingly."

  "All about Greece interests me," said Apollo, who, although handsome, was a somewhat melancholy lackadaisical looking personage, with his shirt collar thrown open, and his long curls theatrically arranged. "All about Greece interests me. I always consider Greece my peculiar property. My best poems were written at Delphi. I travelled in Greece when I was young. I envy mankind."

  "Indeed!" said Ixion.

  "Yes: they at least can look forward to a termination of the ennui of existence, but for us Celestials there is no prospect. Say what they like, Immortality is a bore."

  "You eat nothing, Apollo," said Ceres.

  "Nor drink, " said Neptune.

  "To eat, to drink, what is it but to live; and what is life but death, if death be that which all men deem it, a thing insufferable, and to be shunned. I refresh myself now only with soda-water and biscuits. Ganymede, bring some."

  Now, although the cuisine of Olympus was considered perfect, the forlorn poet had unfortunately fixed upon the only two articles which were not comprised in its cellar or larder. In Heaven, there was neither soda-water nor biscuits. A great confusion consequently ensued; but at length the bard, whose love of fame was only equalled by his horror of getting fat, consoled himself with a swan stuffed with truffles, and a bottle of strong Tenedos wine.

  "What do you think of Homer?" inquired Minerva of Apollo. "Is he not delightful?"

  "If you think so."

  "Nay, I am desirous of your opinion"

  "Then you should not have given me yours, for your taste is too fine for me to dare to differ with it."

  "I have suspected, for some time, that you are rather a heretic."

  "Why, the truth is" replied Apollo, playing with his rings, "I do not think much of Homer. Homer was not esteemed in his own age, and our contemporaries are generally our best judges. The fact is, there are very few people who are qualified to decide upon matters of taste. A certain set, for certain reasons, resolve to cry up a certain writer, and the great mass soon join in. All is cant. And the present admiration of Homer is not less so. They say I have borrowed a great deal from him. The truth is, I never read Homer since I was a child, and I thought of him then what I think of him now, a writer of some wild irregular power, totally deficient in taste. Depend upon it, our contemporaries are our best judges, and his contemporaries decided that Homer was nothing. A great poet cannot be kept down. Look at my case. Marsyas said of my first volume that it was pretty good poetry for a God, and in answer I wrote a satire, and flayed Marsyas alive. But what is poetry, and what is criticism, and what is life? Air. And what is Air? Do you know? I don't. All is mystery, and all is gloom, and ever and anon from out the clouds a star breaks forth, and glitters, and that star is Poetry."

  "Splendid!" exclaimed Minerva.

  "I do not exactly understand you," said Neptune.

  "Have you heard from Proserpine, lately?" inquired Jupiter of Ceres.

  "Yesterday," said the domestic mother. "They talk of soon joining us. But Pluto is at present so busy, owing to the amazing quantity of wars going on now, that I am almost afraid he will scarcely be able to accompany her."

  Juno exchanged a telegraphic nod with Ceres. The Goddesses rose, and retired.

  "Come, old boy," said Jupiter to Ixion, instantly throwing off all his chivalric majesty, "I drink your welcome in a magnum of Maraschino. Damn your poetry, Apollo, and Mercury give us one of your good stories."

  V

  "Well ! what do you think of him ?" asked Juno.

  "He appears to have a fine mind," said Minerva.

  "Poh ! he has very fine eyes," said Juno.

  "He seems a very nice, quiet young gentleman," said Ceres.

  "I have no doubt he is very amiable," said Latona.

  "He must have felt very strange," said Diana.

  VI

  Hercules arrived with his bride Hebe; soon after the Graces dropped in, the most delightful personages in the world for a soiree, so useful and ready for anything. Afterwards came a few of the Muses, Thalia, Melpomene, and Terpsichore, famous for a charade or a proverb. Jupiter liked to be amused in the evening. Bacchus also came, but finding that the Gods had not yet left their wine, retired to pay them a previous visit.

  Vii

  Ganymede announced coffee in the saloon of Juno. Jupiter was in superb good humour. He was amused by his mortal guest. He had condescended to tell one of his best stories in his best style, about Leda, not too scandalous, but gay.

  "Those were bright days," said Neptune.

  "We can remember," said the Thunderer, with a twinkling eye. "These youths have fallen upon duller times. There are no fine women now. Ixion, I drink to the health of your wife."

  "With all my heart, and may we never be nearer than we are at present."

  "Good ! ifaith; Apollo, your arm. Now for the ladies. La, la, la, la! la, la, la, la !"

  VIII

  The Thunderer entered the saloon of Juno with that bow which no God could rival; all rose, and the King of Heaven seated himself between Ceres and Latona. The melancholy Apollo stood apart, and was soon carried off by Minerva to an assembly at the house of Mnemosyne. Mercury chatted with the Graces, and Bacchus with Diana. The three Muses favoured the company with singing, and the Queen of Heaven approached Ixion.

  "Does your Majesty dance ?" she haughtily inquired.

  "On earth; I have few accomplishments even there, and none in Heaven."

  "You have led a strange life ! I have heard of your adventures."

  "A king who has lost his crown may generally gain at least experience."

  "Your courage is firm."

  "I have felt too much to care for much. Yesterday I was a vagabond exposed to every pitiless storm, and now I am the guest of Jove. While there is life there is hope, and he who laughs at Destiny will gain Fortune. I would go through the past again to enjoy the present, and feel that after all, I am my wife's debtor, since, through her conduct, I can gaze upon you."

  "No great spectacle. If that be all, I wish you better fortune."

  "I desire no greater"

  "You are moderate."

  "I am perhaps more unreasonable than you imagine."

  "Indeed!"

  Their eyes met; the dark orbs of the Thessalian did not quail before the flashing vision of the Goddess. Juno grew pale. Juno turned away.

  PART II

  "Others say it was only a cloud."

  I

  Mercury and Ganymede were each lolling on an opposite couch in the antechamber of Olympus.

  "It is wonderful," said the son of Maia, yawning.

  "It is incredible," rejoined the cup-bearer of Jove, stretching his legs.

  "A miserable mortal!" exclaimed the God, elevating his eyebrows.

  "A vile Thessalian!" said the beautiful Phrygian, shrugging his shoulders.

  "Not three days back an outcast among his own wretched species !"

  "And now commanding everybody in Heaven"

  "He shall not command me, though," said Mercury.

  "Will he not ?" replied Ganymede. " Why, what do you think ? only last night; hark ! here he comes."

  The companions jumped up from their couches; a light laugh was heard. The cedar portal was flung open, and Ixion lounged in, habited in a loose morning robe, and kicking before him one of his slippers.

  "Ah !" exclaimed the King of Thessaly, "the very fellows I wanted to see ! Ganymede, bring me some nectar; and Mercury, run and tell Jo
ve that I shall not dine at home today."

  The messenger and the page exchanged looks of indignant consternation.

  "Well ! what are you waiting for ?" continued Ixion, looking round from the mirror in which he was arranging his locks. The messenger and the page disappeared.

  "So ! this is Heaven," exclaimed the husband of Dia, flinging himself upon one of the couches; "and a very pleasant place too. These worthy Immortals required their minds to be opened, and I trust I have effectually performed the necessary operation. They wanted to keep me down with their dull old-fashioned celestial airs, but I fancy I have given them change for their talent. To make your way in Heaven you must command. These exclusives sink under the audacious invention of an aspiring mind. Jove himself is really a fine old fellow, with some notions too. I am a prime favourite, and no one is greater authority with Aegiochus on all subjects, from the character of the fair sex or the pedigree of a courser, down to the cut of a robe or the flavour of a dish. Thanks, Ganymede," continued the Thessalian, as he took the goblet from his returning attendant.

  "I drink to your bonnes fortunes. Splendid ! This nectar makes me feel quite immortal. By-the-bye, I hear sweet sounds. Who is in the Hall of Music ?'

  "The Goddesses, royal sir, practise a new air of Euterpe, the words by Apollo. 'Tis pretty, and will doubtless be very popular, for it is all about moonlight and the misery of existence."

  I warrant it."

  "You have a taste for poetry yourself?" inquired Ganymede.

  "Not the least," replied Ixion.

  "Apollo," continued the heavenly page, "is a great genius, though Marsyas said that he never would be a poet because he was a god, and had no heart. But do you think, sir, that a poet does indeed need a heart ?"

  "I really cannot say. I know my wife always said I had a bad heart and worse head; but what she meant, upon my honour I never could understand."

  "Minerva will ask you to write in her album."

  "Will she indeed ! I am sorry to hear it , for I can scarcely scrawl my signature. I should think that Jove himself cared little for all this nonsense."

  "Jove loves an epigram. He does not esteem Apollo's works at all. Jove is of the classical school, and admires satire, provided there be no allusions to gods and kings."

  "Of course; I quite agree with him. I remember we had a confounded poet at Larissa who proved my family lived before the deluge, and asked me for a pension. I refused him, and then he wrote an epigram asserting that I sprang from the veritable stones thrown by Deucalion and Pyrrha at the re-peopling of the earth, and retained all the properties of my ancestors."

  "Ha, ha ! Hark ! there's a thunderbolt ! I must run to Jove."

  "And I will look in on the musicians. This way, I think?"

  "Up the ruby staircase, turn to your right, down the amethyst gallery. Farewell !"

  "Good bye; a lively lad that !"

  II

  The King of Thessaly entered the Hall of Music with its golden walls and crystal dome. The Queen of Heaven was reclining in an easy chair, cutting out peacocks in small sheets of note paper. Minerva was making a pencil observation on a manuscript copy of the song: Apollo listened with deference to her laudatory criticisms. Another divine dame, standing by the side of Euterpe, who was seated by the harp, looked up as Ixion entered. The wild liquid glance of her soft but radiant countenance denoted the famed Goddess of Beauty.

  Juno just acknowledged the entrance of Ixion by a slight and haughty inclination of the head, and then resumed her employment. Minerva asked him his opinion of her amendment, of which he greatly approved. Apollo greeted him with a melancholy smile, and congratulated him on being mortal. Venus complimented him on his visit to Olympus, and expressed the pleasure that she experienced in making his acquaintance.

  "What do you think of Heaven?" inquired Venus, in a soft still voice, and with a smile like summer lightning.

  "I never found it so enchanting as at this moment," replied Ixion.

  "A little dull? For myself, I pass my time chiefly at Cnidos: you must come and visit me there. 'Tis the most charming place in the world. 'Tis said, you know, that our onions are like other people's roses. We will take care of you, if your wife comes."

  "No fear of that. She always remains at home and piques herself on her domestic virtues, which means pickling, and quarrelling with her husband."

  "Ah! I see you area droll. Very good indeed. Well, for my part, I like a watering-place existence. Cnidos, Paphos, Cythera; you will usually find me at one of these places. I like the easy distraction of a career without any visible result. At these fascinating spots your gloomy race, to whom, by-the-bye, I am exceedingly partial, appear emancipated from the wearing fetters of their regular, dull, orderly, methodical, moral, political, toiling existence. I pride myself upon being the Goddess of Watering-places. You really must pay me a visit at Cnidos."

  "Such an invitation requires no repetition. And Cnidos is your favourite spot ?'

  "Why, it was so; but of late it has become so inundated with invalid Asiatics and valetudinarian Persians, that the simultaneous influx of the handsome heroes who swarm in from the islands to look after their daughters, scarcely compensates for the annoying presence of their yellow faces and shaking limbs. No, I think, on the whole, Paphos is my favourite."

  I have heard of its magnificent luxury."

  "Oh! 'tis lovely! Quite my idea of country life. Not a single tree! When Cyprus is very hot, you run to Paphos for a sea-breeze, and are sure to meet every one whose presence is in the least desirable. All the bores remain behind, as if by instinct."

  "I remember when we married, we talked of passing the honeymoon at Cythera, but Dia would have her waitingmaid and a bandbox stuffed between us in the chariot, so I got sulky after the first stage, and returned by myself."

  "You were quite right. I hate bandboxes: they are always in the way. You would have liked Cythera if you had been in the least in love. High rocks and green knolls, bowery woods, winding walks, and delicious sunsets. I have not been there much of late," continued the Goddess, looking somewhat sad and serious, "since: but I will not talk sentiment to Ixion."

  "Do you think, then, I am insensible?"

  "Yes."

  "Perhaps you are right. We mortals grow callous."

  "So I have heard. How very odd!" So saying , the Goddess glided away and saluted Mars, who at that moment entered the hall. Ixion was presented to the military hero, who looked fierce and bowed stiffly. The King of Thessaly turned upon his heel. Minerva opened her album, and invited him to inscribe a stanza.

  "Goddess of Wisdom," replied the King, " unless you inspire me, the virgin page must remain pure as thyself. I can scarcely sign a decree."

  "Is it Ixion of Thessaly who says this; one who has seen so much, and, if I am not mistaken, has felt and thought so much? I can easily conceive why such a mind may desire to veil its movements from the common herd, but pray concede to Minerva the gratifying compliment of assuring her that she is the exception for whom this rule has been established."

  "I seem to listen to the inspired music of an oracle. Give me a pen."

  "Here is one, plucked from a sacred owl."

  "So! I write. There! Will it do?"

  Minerva read the inscription:-

  I HAVE SEEN THE WORLD, AND MORE THAN THE WORLD: I HAVE STUDIED THE HEART OF MAN, AND NOW I CONSORT WITH IMMORTALS. THE FRUIT OF MY TREE OF KNOWLEDGE IS PLUCKED, AND IT IS THIS, ADVENTURES ARE TO THE ADVENTUROUS'

  Written in the Album of Minerva, by Ixion in Heaven.

  " 'Tis brief," said the Goddess, with a musing air, "but full of meaning. You have a daring soul and pregnant mind."

  "I have dared much: what I may produce we have yet to see."

  "I must to Jove," said Minerva, "to council. We shall meet again. Farewell, Ixion."

  "Farewell, Glaucopis."

  The King of Thessaly stood away from the remaining guests, and leant with folded arms and pensive brow against a wreathed column. Mars l
istened to Venus with an air of deep devotion. Euterpe played an inspiring accompaniment to their conversation. The Queen of Heaven seemed engrossed in the creation of her paper peacocks.

  Ixion advanced and seated himself on a couch, near Juno. His manner was divested of that reckless bearing and careless coolness by which it was in general distinguished. He was, perhaps, even a little embarrassed. His ready tongue deserted him. At length he spoke.

  "Has your Majesty ever heard of the peacock of the Queen of Mesopotamia?"

  "No," replied Juno, with stately reserve; and then she added with an air of indifferent curiosity, "Is it in any way remarkable?"

  "Its breast is of silver, its wings of gold, its eyes of carbuncle, its claws of amethyst."

  "And its tail?" eagerly inquired Juno.

  "That is a secret," replied Ixion. "The tail is the most wonderful part of all."

  "Oh! tell me, pray tell me!"

  "I forget."

  "No, no, no; it is impossible!" exclaimed the animated Juno. "Provoking mortal!" continued the Goddess. "Let me entreat you; tell me immediately."

  "There is a reason which prevents me."

  "What can it be? How very odd! What reason can it possibly be? Now tell me; as a particular, a personal favour, I request you, do tell me."

  "What! The tail or the reason? The tail is wonderful, but the reason is much more so. I can only tell one. Now choose."

  "What provoking things these human beings are! The tail is wonderful, but the reason is much more so. Well then, the reason; no, the tail. Stop, now, as a particular favour, pray tell me both. What can the tail be made of and what can the reason be? I am literally dying of curiosity."

  "Your Majesty has cut out that peacock wrong," remarked Ixion. "It is more like one of Minerva's owls."

  "Who care about paper peacocks, when the Queen of Mesopotamia has got such a miracle!" exclaimed Juno; and she tore the labours of the morning to pieces, and threw away the fragments with vexation. "Now tell me instantly; if you have the slightest regard for me, tell me instantly. What was the tail made of?"

  "And do you not wish to hear the reason?"

  "That afterwards. Now! I am all ears." At this moment Ganymede entered, and whispered to the Goddess, who rose in evident vexation, and retired to the presence of Jove.