Ixion In Heaven Part 1

Ixion In Heaven.

by Benjamin Disraeli.

ADVERTIs.e.m.e.nT

_'IXION, King of Thessaly, famous for its horses, married Dia, daughter of Deioneus, who, in consequence of his son- in-law's non-fulfilment of his engagements, stole away some of the monarch's steeds. Ixion concealed his resentment under the mask of friends.h.i.+p. 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 compa.s.sion upon him, carried him to Heaven, and introduced him to the Father of the G.o.ds. Such a favour, which ought to have awakened grat.i.tude in Ixion, only served to inflame his bad pa.s.sions; he became enamoured of Juno, and attempted to seduce her. Juno was willing to gratify the pa.s.sion of Ixion, though, according to others,' &c.--Cla.s.sical Dictionary, art. 'Ixion.'_

IXION IN HEAVEN

PART I.

_An Errant King_

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 m.u.f.fled 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 hast no other friend than Jove?' 'One whom all mankind unite in calling a wretch.' 'Art thou a philosopher?'

'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 G.o.ds 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 hara.s.sing 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 kept 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 mult.i.tude, 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 sc.r.a.pe. The G.o.ds 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 G.o.d!'

'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 amus.e.m.e.nt 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.

'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 s.h.i.+ne into notice. 'Tis a parvenu planet, and only sprung into s.p.a.ce 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 appet.i.te by luncheon. Jupiter keeps a capital cook.'

'I have heard of Nectar and Ambrosia.' 'Poh! n.o.body touches them.

They are regular old-fas.h.i.+oned 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 h.e.l.l?'

'Several times. 'Tis the fas.h.i.+on now among the Olympians to pa.s.s 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.'

'G.o.ds 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?'