Mckenna & Katherine Harrison - Victorian Tales Of Cannabis - 02

Victorian Tales of Cannabis, read by Kathleen Harrison McKenna and Terence McKenna, produced

and directed and audially illuminated by Sound Photosynthesis, forward Terence McKenna.

What we have here is four pieces of Victorian literature built around the theme of hashish

intoxication in every case but one. These are American writers, Richard Burton being the

exception. Hashish was introduced into Europe by the French, but it didn't ever attain in Europe in

the 19th century the kind of vogue that it was to attain in the United States, largely due to the

literary efforts of Bayard Taylor and Fitzhugh Ludlow. And in the readings we will hear Fitzhugh

Ludlow directly attributes his interest in hashish to the article by Bayard Taylor, which he had read

a couple of years before his first hashish experiments when it was published in the Atlantic

Monthly. There's a confluence of artistic and social intent in the American mind with the powers of

hashish that seems extraordinarily serendipitous. In other words, the rich strain of American

transcendentalism fueled by the pre-Raphaelite strain in literature and architecture seemed ready-made for

the kind of sublime and ecstatic visions which these American Victorians were able to obtain from eating

their hashish. There is nothing comparable to these kinds of visionary excursions in the modern practice

of smoking cannabis products because a much more diminished amount of the drug is delivered to

the individual at any given time. If you notice, these descriptions of hashish intoxication are comparable

to 20th century descriptions of intoxication with LSD or psilocybin, some of the stronger

psychopharmacological agents. I don't think there can be much doubt that romanticism, American

transcendentalism, the French fascination with the Orient in fashion and design and literature,

all of these 19th century concerns, a general tendency toward the florid in design, in philosophical

thinking, even in social forms, can in part be attributed to this strong orientalizing influence of which

hashish was a major player. The Victorian literary style seems uniquely suited, especially in the case

of Fitzhugh Ludlow, to conveying the confused, shifting, multi-leveled, and imagistic tonality that is typical

of the hashish experience. So it's a very fortuitous marriage of style and subject matter that we meet in

these four pieces. As I said, three by American hashish aficionados and the exception being Richard Burton,

whose pieces are drawn from his translation of the Thousand and One Nights and show the influence

of hashish on climaxed Islamic society, put through the filter of the fine job of translation that Burton did,

a great Victorian traveler, polymath and geographer in his own right. We had a dual motivation, my partner

Kat and myself, in making these recordings. First of all, we thought that it was a sufficient challenge

to the partnership ideal for a man and a woman to try to re-embody the writing of these Victorian hashish aficionados.

Two of the writings accentuate the women's point of view, since Louisa May Alcott is one of the writers,

and in the second case, Richard Burton's retelling of the Thousand and One Tales of Scheherazade,

is from a woman's point of view, uses a woman's voice. The other motivation for this project

is the difficulty of obtaining printed versions of this material. There hasn't been an edition of Fitzhugh

Ludlow since 1975. The previous edition was in the mid-1800s. There hasn't been an edition of Bayard

Taylor since the first edition of 1853. So these materials are not available generally at your public

library. And as the debate on the social impact of cannabis accelerates, it's very important that we have

access to these accounts by unbiased early observers of the phenomenon. This first reading of Bayard Taylor's

The Lands of the Saracen presents the earliest American account of hashish use. The Lands of the Saracen

was published in 1855 and set the model for hashish reportage throughout the rest of the 19th century and

was a major influence on Fitzhugh Ludlow. I'm going to read chapter 10, The Visions of Hashish, which is the

portion of the book in which most of the references to hashish taking are confined. This is Bayard Taylor, 1855.

During my stay in Damascus, that insatiable curiosity, which leads me to prefer the acquisition of all

lawful knowledge through the channels of my own personal experience, rather than in less satisfactory

and less laborious ways, induced me to make a trial of the celebrated hashish, that remarkable drug which

supplies the luxurious Syrian with dreams more alluring and more gorgeous than the Chinese extracts from

his darling opium pipe. The use of hashish, which is a preparation of the dried leaves of the cannabis

syndicate, has been familiar to the East for many centuries. During the Crusades, it was frequently used by the

Saracen warriors to stimulate them to the work of slaughter. And from the Arabic term of hashish, or eaters of

hashish as applied to them, the word assassin has been naturally derived. An infusion of the same plant gives

to the drink called bong, which is in common use throughout India and Malaysia, its peculiar properties.

Thus prepared, it is a more fierce and fatal stimulant than the paste of sugar and spices to which the

turk resorts as the food of his voluptuous evening. While its immediate effects seem to be more potent than

those of opium, its habitual use, though attended with ultimate and permanent injury to the system,

rarely results in such utter wreck of mind and body as that to which the votaries of the latter drug

inevitably condemn themselves. A previous experience of the effects of hashish, which I took once and in a

very mild form while in Egypt, was so peculiar in its character that my curiosity, instead of being

satisfied, only prompted me the more to throw myself for once wholly under its influence. The sensations

it then produced were those physically of exquisite lightness and airiness, mentally of a wonderfully keen

perception of the ludicrous in the most simple and familiar objects. During the half hour in which it

lasted, I was at no time so far under its control that I could not, with the clearest perception, study the

changes through which I passed. I noticed with careful attention the fine sensations which spread throughout

the whole tissue of my nervous fiber, each thrill helping to divest my frame of its earthly and material

nature, until my substance appeared to me no grosser than the vapors of the atmosphere. And while sitting in

the calm of the Egyptian twilight, I expected to be lifted up and carried away by the first breeze that

should ruffle the Nile. While this process was going on, the objects by which I was surrounded assumed a

strange and whimsical expression. My pipe, the oars which my boatman plied, the turban worn by the captain,

the water jars and culinary implements, became in themselves so inexpressibly absurd and comical that I

was provoked to a long fit of laughter. The hallucination died away as gradually as it came, leaving me overcome

with the soft and pleasant drowsiness from which I sank into a deep refreshing sleep. My companion and an

English gentleman who with his wife was also residing in Antonio's pleasant caravanserai agreed to join me in

the experiment. The dragoman of the latter was deputed to procure a sufficient quantity of the drug. He was a

dark Egyptian speaking only the lingua franca of the East and asked me as he took the money and departed on

his mission whether he should get hashish. Peridere? Peridere? Peridere? Of course, I answered, and see that it be

strong and fresh. It is customary with the Syrians to take a small portion immediately before the evening meal

and it is thus diffused through the stomach and acts more gradually as well as more gently upon the system.

As our dinner hour was at sunset I proposed taking hashish at the time, but my friends fearing that

its operations might be more speedy upon fresh subjects and thus betray them into some absurdity

in the presence of the other travelers preferred waiting until after the meal. It was then agreed

that we should retire to our room which as it rose like a tower one story higher than the rest of the

building was in a manner isolated and would screen us from observation.

We commenced by taking a teaspoonful each of the mixture which Abdallah had procured.

This was about the quantity I had taken in Egypt and as the effect then had been so slight

I judged that we ran no risk of taking an overdose. The strength of the drug however must have been far

greater in this instance for whereas I could in the former case distinguish no flavor but that of sugar

and rose leaves. I now found the taste intensely bitter and repulsive to the palate. We allowed the

paste to dissolve slowly on our tongues and sat some time quietly waiting the result but having been taken

upon a full stomach its operation was hindered and after the lapse of nearly an hour we could not detect

the least change in our feelings. My friends loudly expressed their conviction of the humbug of hashish

but I, unwilling to give up the experiment at this point, proposed that we should take an additional half

spoonful and follow it with a cup of hot tea which if there were really any virtue in the preparation

could not fail to call it into action. This was done though not without some misgivings

as we were all ignorant of the precise quantity which constituted a dose and the limits within

which the drug could be taken with safety. It was now 10 o'clock. The streets of Damascus were

gradually becoming silent and the fair city was bathed in the yellow luster of the Syrian moon.

Only in the marble courtyard below us a few dragoman and mucaristes lingered under the lemon trees

beside the fountain in the center. I was seated alone nearly in the middle of the room talking with my

friends who were lounging upon a sofa placed in a sort of alcove at the farther end when the same

fine nervous thrill of which I have spoken suddenly shot through me. But this time it was accompanied

by a burning sensation at the pit of the stomach and instead of growing upon me with the gradual pace

of healthy slumber and resolving me as before into air it came with the intensity of a pang and shot

throbbing along the nerves to the extremities of my body. The sense of limitation of the confinement of

our senses within the bounds of our own flesh and blood instantly fell away. The walls of my frame

were burst outward and tumbled into ruin and without thinking what form I wore losing sight even of an idea

of form. I felt that I existed throughout a vast extent of space. The blood pulsed from my heart, sped

through the uncounted leagues before it reached my extremities. The air drawn into my lungs expanded into

seas of limpid ether and the arch of my skull was broader than the vault of heaven. Within the concave that

held my brain were the fathomless depths of blue. Clouds floated there and the winds of heaven rolled

them together and there shone the orb of the sun. It was, though I thought not of that at the time,

like a revelation of the mystery of omnipresence. It is difficult to describe this sensation or the

rapidity with which it mastered me. In the state of mental exaltation in which I was then plunged,

all sensations as they rose suggested more or less coherent images. They presented themselves to me

in a double form, one physical and therefore to a certain extent tangible, the other spiritual

and revealing itself in a succession of splendid metaphors. The physical feeling of extended being was

accompanied by the image of an exploding meteor, not subsiding into darkness, but continuing to

shoot from its center or nucleus, which corresponded to the burning spot at the pit of my stomach,

incessant adumbrations of light that finally lost themselves in the infinity of space. To my mind,

even now this image is still the best illustration of my sensations as I recall them, but I greatly doubt

whether the reader will find it equally clear. My curiosity was now in a way of being satisfied.

The spirit, demon shall I not rather say, of Hashish had entire possession of me. I was cast upon the

flood of his illusions and drifted helplessly whithersoever they might choose to bear me. The

thrills which ran through my nervous system became more rapid and fierce, accompanied with sensations

that steeped my whole being in unutterable rapture. I was encompassed by a sea of light through which played

the pure harmonious colors that are born of light. While endeavoring in broken expressions to describe

my feelings to my friends, who sat looking upon me incredulously, not yet having been affected by the

drug, I suddenly found myself at the foot of the great pyramid of Cheops. The tapering courses of yellow

limestone gleamed like gold in the sun, and the pile rose so high that it seemed to lean for

support upon the blue arch of the sky. I wished to ascend it, and the wish alone placed me immediately

upon its apex, lifted thousands of feet above the wheat fields and palm groves of Egypt. I cast my eyes

downward and, to my astonishment, saw that it was built not of limestone, but of huge square plugs of

cavendish tobacco. Words cannot paint the overwhelming sense of the ludicrous which I then experienced.

I writhed on my chair in an agony of laughter, which was only relieved by the vision melting away like a

dissolving view, till, out of my confusion of indistinct images and fragments of images, another and more powerful

vision arose. The more vividly I recall the scene which followed, the more carefully I restore its

different features and separate the many threads of sensation which wove it into one glorious web, the

more I despair of representing its exceeding glory. I was moving over the desert, not upon the rocking dromedary, but

I was seated in a bark made of mother pearl, and studded with jewels of surpassing luster. The sand was of grains of gold, and my

heels slid through them without sound or jar. The air was radiant with excess of light, though no sun was to be seen.

I inhaled the most delicious perfumes, and harmonies such as Beethoven may have heard in dreams, but never wrote, floated around me.

The atmosphere itself was light, odin, music, and each and all sublimated beyond anything the sober senses are capable of receiving.

Before me for a thousand leagues, as it seemed, stretched a vista of rainbows, whose colors gleamed with the splendor of gems,

arches of living amethyst, sapphire, emerald, topaz, and ruby. By thousands and tens of thousands, they flew past me as my dazzling barge sped down the magnificent arcade.

Yet the vista still stretched as far as ever before me. I reveled in a sensuous Elysium, which was perfect because no sense was left ungratified.

But beyond all, my mind was filled with a boundless feeling of triumph. My journey was that of a conqueror,

not of a conqueror who subdues his race, either by love or by will, for I forgot that man existed,

but one victorious over the grandest as well as the subtlest. The spirits of light, color, odor, sound, and motion were my slaves,

and having these, I was master of the universe. Those who are endowed to any extent with the imaginative

faculty must have at least once in their lives experienced feelings which may give them a clue

to the exalted sensuous raptures of my triumphal march. The view of a sublime mountain landscape,

the hearing of a grand orchestral symphony, or of a choral upborne by the full-voiced organ,

or even the beauty and luxury of a cloudless summer day suggests emotions similar in kind if less intense.

They took a warmth and glow from that pure animal joy which degrades not, but spiritualizes and ennobles our material part,

and which differs from cold abstract intellectual enjoyment as the flaming diamond of the orient differs from the icicle of the north.

Those finer senses which occupy a middle ground between our animal and intellectual appetites

were suddenly developed to a pitch beyond what I had ever dreamed, and being thus at one and the same time

gratified to the fullest extent of their preternatural capacity, the result was a single harmonious sensation

to describe which human language has no epithet. Mahatma's paradise with its palaces of ruby and emerald,

its airs of musk and cassia, and its rivers colder than snow and sweeter than honey,

would have been a poor and mean terminus from my arcade of rainbows. Yet in the character of this paradise,

in the gorgeous fancies of the Arabian nights, in the glow and luxury of all oriental poetry,

I now recognize more or less the agency of hashish. The fullness of my rapture expanded the sense of time,

and though the whole vision was probably no more than five minutes in passing through my mind,

years seemed to have elapsed while I shot under the dazzling myriads of rainbow arches.

By and by, the rainbows, the bark of pearl and jewels, and the desert of golden sand vanished,

and still bathed in light and perfume, I found myself in a land of green and flowery lawns,

divided by hills of gently undulating outline. But, although the vegetation was the richest of earth,

there were neither streams nor fountains to be seen, and the people who came from the hills

with brilliant garments that shone in the sun besought me to give them the blessing of water.

Their hands were full of branches of the coral honeysuckle in bloom. These I took,

and breaking off the flowers one by one, set them in the earth. The slender trumpet-like tubes

immediately became shafts of masonry, and sank deep into the earth. The lip of the flower changed into

a circular mouth of rose-colored marble, and the people, leaning over its brink, lowered their pitchers to

the bottom with cords, and drew them up again, filled to the brim and dripping with honey.

The most remarkable feature of these illusions was that, at that time, when I was most completely under

their influence, I knew myself to be seated in the tower of Antonio's Hotel in Damascus, knew that I had

taken hashish, and that the strange, gorgeous, and ludicrous fantasies which possessed me were the effect of it.

At the very instant that I looked upon the valley of the Nile from the pyramids, slid over the desert,

or created my marvelous wells in that beautiful pastoral country, I saw the furniture of my room,

its mosaic pavement, the quaint saracenic niches in the walls, the painted and gilded beams of the ceiling,

and the couch in the recess before me with my two companions watching me. Both sensations were

simultaneous and equally palpable. While I was most given up to the magnificent delusion, I saw its cause,

and felt its absurdity most clearly. Metaphysicians say that the mind is incapable of performing two

operations at the same time, and may attempt to explain this phenomenon by supposing a rapid and

incessant vibration of the perceptions between the two states. This explanation, however, is not

satisfactory to me, for not more clearly does a skillful musician with the same breath blow two

distinct musical notes from a bugle than I was conscious of two distinct conditions of being in the

same moment. Yet, singular as it may seem, neither conflicted with the other. My enjoyment of the

visions was complete and absolute, undisturbed by the faintest doubt of their reality, while in some other

chamber of my brain, reason sat coolly watching them, and heaping the liveliest ridicule on their

fantastic features. One set of nerves was thrilled with the bliss of the gods, while another was convulsed

with unquenchable laughter at that very bliss. My highest ecstasies could not bear down and silence

the weight of my ridicule, which in its turn was powerless to prevent me from running into other and

more gorgeous absurdities. I was double, not swan and shadow, but rather sphinx-like, human and beast,

a true sphinx. I was a riddle and a mystery to myself.

The drug, which had been retarded in its operation on account of being taken after a meal, now began to

make itself more powerfully felt. The visions were more grotesque than ever, but less agreeable,

and there was a painful tension throughout my nervous system, the effect of over-stimulus. I was a

mass of transparent jelly, and a confectioner poured me into a twisted mold. I threw my chair aside and

writhed and tortured myself for some time to force my loose substance into the mold. At last, when I had so

far succeeded that only one foot remained outside, it was lifted off, and another mold of still more

crooked and intricate shape substituted. I have no doubt that the contortions through which I went to

accomplish the end of my gelatinous destiny would have been extremely ludicrous to a spectator, but to me

they were painful and disagreeable. The sober half of me went into fits of laughter over them, and through that

laughter, my vision shifted into another scene. I had laughed until my eyes overflowed profusely. Every

drop that fell immediately became a large loaf of bread and tumbled upon the shop floor of a baker in the

bazaar at Damascus. The more I laughed, the faster the loaves fell, until such a pile was raised about the

baker that I could hardly see the top of his head. The man will be suffocated, I cried, but if he were to

die I cannot stop. My perceptions now became more dim and confused. I felt that I was in the grasp of some

giant force, and in the glimmering of my fading reason grew earnestly alarmed, for the terrible stress

under which my frame labored increased every moment. A fierce and furious heat radiated from my stomach

throughout my system. My mouth and throat were as dry and as hard as it made of brass, and my tongue,

it seemed to me, was a bar of rusty iron. I seized a pitcher of water and drank long and deeply, but I

might as well have drunk so much air, for not only did it impart no moisture, but my palate and throat gave me

no intelligence of having drunk at all. I stood in the center of the room brandishing my arms convulsively

and heaving sighs that seemed to shatter my whole being. Will no one, I cried in distress, cast out this

devil that has possession of me? I no longer saw the room nor my friends, but I heard one of them saying,

it must be real. He could not counterfeit such an expression as that, but it don't look much like

pleasure. Immediately afterwards, there was a scream of the wildest laughter, and my countryman

sprang upon the floor, exclaiming, oh ye gods, I am a locomotive. This was his ruling hallucination,

and for the space of two or three hours, he continued to pace to and fro with a measured stride,

exhaling his breath in violent jets. And when he spoke, dividing his words into syllables, each of which

he brought out with a jerk, at the same time, turning his hands at his sides as if they were the cranks of

them.

.

imaginary wheels. The Englishman, as soon as he felt the dose beginning to take

effect, prudently retreated to his own room, and what the nature of his visions

were we never learned, for he refused to tell, and moreover enjoined the strictest

silence on his wife. By this time it was nearly midnight. I had passed through

the paradise of hashish and was plunged at once into its fiercest hell. In my

ignorance I had taken what I have since learned would have been a sufficient

portion for six men, and was now paying a frightful penalty for my curiosity. The

excited blood rushed through my frame with a sound like the roaring of mighty

waters. It was projected into my eyes until I could no longer see. It beat

thickly in my ears and so throbbed in my heart that I feared the ribs would give

way under its blows. I tore open my vest, placed my hand over the spot, and tried

to count the pulsations, but there were two hearts, one beating at the rate of a

thousand beats a minute, and the other with a slow dull motion. My throat, I thought,

was filled to the brim with blood, and streams of blood were pouring from my

eyes. I felt them gushing warm down my cheeks and neck. With a maddened, desperate

feeling, I fled from the room and walked over the flat terraced roof of the house. My

body seemed to shrink and grow rigid as I wrestled with the demon, and my face to

become wild, lean, and haggard. Some lines which had struck me years before in

reading Mrs. Browning's Rhymes of the Duchess May flashed into my mind, and the

horse in stark despair, with his front hoofs poised in air, on the last verge rears a

mane, and he hangs, he rocks between, and his nostrils curdle in, and he shivers head

and hoof, and the flakes of foam fall off, and his face grows fierce and thin. That

picture of animal terror and agony was mine. I was the horse hanging poised on the

verge of the giddy tower, the next moment to be born sheer down to destruction.

Involuntarily, I raised my hand to feel the leanness and sharpness of my face. Oh horror!

The flesh had fallen from my bones, and it was a skeleton head that I carried on my shoulders.

With one bound, I sprang to the parapet and looked into the silent courtyard, then filled

with the shadows thrown into it by the sinking moon. Shall I cast myself down headlong? was

the question I proposed to myself, but through the horror of that skeleton delusion was greater than

my fear of death. There was an invisible hand at my breast which pushed me away from the brink.

I made my way back to the room in a state of the keenest suffering. My companion was still a locomotive,

rushing to and fro and jerking out his syllables with a disjointed accent peculiar to a steam engine.

His mouth had turned to brass like mine, and he raised the pitcher to his lips in the attempt to

moisten it, but before he had taken a mouthful, set the pitcher down again with a yell of laughter,

crying out, how can I take water into my boiler while I am letting off steam? But I was too far gone to feel

the absurdity of this or his other exclamations. I was sinking deeper and deeper into a pit of

unutterable agony and despair, for although I was not conscious of any real pain in any part of my body,

the cruel tension to which my nerves had been subjected filled me through and through with a

sensation of distress which was far more severe than pain itself. In addition to this, the remnant of will

with which I struggled against the demon became gradually weaker, and I felt that I soon should be

powerless in his hands. Every effort to preserve my reason was accompanied by a pang of mortal fear,

least what I now experienced was insanity and would hold mastery over me forever. The thought of death,

which also haunted me, was far less bitter than this dread. I knew that in the struggle which was

going on in my frame, I was born fearfully near the dark gulf, and the thought that at such a time

both reason and will were leaving my brain filled me with an agony the depth and blackness of which

I should vainly attempt to portray. I threw myself on my bed with the excited blood still roaring wildly in

my ears, my heart throbbing with a force that seemed to be rapidly wearing away my life, my throat dry as

a pot shard, and my stiffened tongue cleaving to the roof of my mouth, resisting no longer but awaiting my

fate with the apathy of despair. My companion was now approaching the same condition, but as the effect of

the drug on him had been less violent, so his stage of suffering was more clamorous. He cried out to me

that he was dying, implored me to help him, and reproached me vehemently because I lay there silent,

motionless, and apparently careless of his danger. Why will he disturb me, I thought? He thinks he is dying,

but what is death to madness? Let him die! A thousand deaths were more easily borne than the pangs I

suffered. While I was sufficiently conscious to hear his explanations, they only provoked my keen anger,

but after a time my senses became clouded and I sank into a stupor. As near as I can judge, this must have

been three o'clock in the morning, rather more than five hours after the hashish had begun to take effect.

I lay thus all the following day and night in a state of gray blank oblivion, broken only by a single

wandering gleam of consciousness. I recollect hearing Francois' voice. He told me afterwards that I arose,

attempted to dress myself, drank two cups of coffee, and then fell back into the same death-like stupor.

But of all this I did not retain the least knowledge. On the morning of the second day, after a sleep of

thirty hours, I awoke again to the world with a system utterly prostrate and unstrung, and a brain

clouded with the lingering images of my visions. I knew where I was and what had happened to me,

but all I saw still remained unreal and shadowy. There was no taste in what I ate, no refreshment in

what I drank, and it required a painful effort to comprehend what was said to me and return a coherent

answer. Will and reason had come back, but they still sat unsteadily upon their thrones.

My friend, who was much further advanced in his recovery, accompanied me to the adjoining bath,

which I hoped would assist in restoring me. It was with great difficulty that I preserved the outward

appearance of consciousness. In spite of myself, a veil now and then fell over my mind, and after

wandering for years, as it seemed in some distant world, I awoke with a shock to find myself in the

steamy halls of the bath with a brown Syrian polishing my limbs. I suspect that my language must have been

rambling and incoherent, and that the menials who had me in charge understood my condition. For as soon as I

stretched myself upon the couch which follows the bath, a glass of very acid sorbet was presented me,

and after drinking it, I experienced instant relief. Still, the spell was not wholly broken,

and for two or three days I continued subject to frequent involuntary fits of absence which made me

insensible for the time to all that was passing around me. I walked the streets of Damascus with a strange

consciousness that I was in some other place at the same time, and with a constant effort to reunite

my divided perceptions. Previous to the experiment, we had decided on making a bargain with the sheikh for

the journey to Palmyra. The state, however, in which we now found ourselves obliged us to relinquish the

plan. Perhaps the excitement of a forced march across the desert and a conflict with the hostile

Arabs, which was quite likely to happen, might have assisted us in throwing off the baneful effects of

the drug, but all the charm which lay in the name of Palmyra and the romantic interest of the trip was

gone. I was now without courage and without energy, and nothing remained for me but to leave Damascus.

Yet, fearful as my rash experiment proved to me, I did not regret having made it.

It revealed to me deeps of rapture and of suffering which my natural faculties never could have sounded.

It has taught me the majesty of human reason and of human will, even in the weakest,

and the awful peril of tampering with that which assails our integrity. I have here faithfully and

fully written out my experience on account of the lesson which it may convey to others. If I have

unfortunately failed in my design and have but awakened that restless curiosity which I have endeavored

to forestall, let me beg all who are thereby led to repeat the experiment upon themselves,

that they be content to take the portion of hashish which is considered sufficient for one man, and not

like me, swallow enough for six.

Paralless Play If someone does not propose a new and interesting amusement, I shall die of ennui,

said pretty Belle Daventry in a tone of despair. I have read all my books, used up all my Berlin rules,

and it's too warm to go to town for more. No one can go sailing yet as the tide is out. We are all nearly

tired to death of cards, croquet, and gossip. So what shall we do to fire away this endless afternoon?

Dr. Meredith, I command you to invent and propose a new game in five minutes.

To hear is to obey, replied the young man, who lay in the grass at her feet as he submissively slapped

his forehead and fell a-thinking with all his might. Holding up her finger to preserve silence, Belle

pulled out her watch and waited with an expectant smile. The rest of the young party, who were

indolently scattered about under the elms, drew nearer and brightened visibly, for Dr. Meredith's

inventive powers were well known, and something refreshingly novel might be expected from him.

One gentleman did not stir, but then he lay within earshot and merely turned his fine eyes from the sea to

the group before him. His glance rested a moment on Belle's piquant figure, for she looked very pretty,

with her bright hair blowing in the wind, one plump white arm extended to keep order,

and one little foot in a distracting slipper just visible below the voluminous folds of her dress.

Then the glance passed to another figure, sitting somewhat apart in a cloud of white muslin,

for an airy burnous floated from head to shoulders, showing only a singularly charming face. Pale,

and yet brilliant, for the southern eyes were magnificent, the clear olive cheeks contrasted

well with darkest hair, lips like a pomegranate flower, and delicate straight brows as mobile as the lips.

A cluster of crimson flowers, half falling from the loose black braids,

and a golden bracelet of Arabian coins on the slender wrist, were the only ornaments she wore,

and became her better than the fashionable frippery of her companions.

A book lay on her lap, but her eyes, full of a passionate melancholy, were fixed on the sea,

which glittered around an island, green and flowery as a summer paradise.

Rose St. Just was as beautiful as her Spanish mother, but had inherited the pride and reserve

of her English father, and this pride was the thorn which repelled lovers from the human flower.

Mark Dunn sighed as he looked, and as if the sigh, low as it was, roused her from her reverie,

Rose flashed a quick glance at him, took up her book, and went on reading the legend of the lotus eaters.

Time is up now, doctor, cried Belle, pocketing her watch with a flourish.

Ready to report, answered Meredith, sitting up and producing a little box of tortoise shell and gold.

How mysterious! What is it? Let me see first!

And Belle removed the cover, looking like an inquisitive child.

Only bonbons! How stupid! That won't do, sir! We don't want to be fed with sugar plums. We demand to be amused.

Eat six of these despised bonbons, and you will be amused in a new, delicious, and wonderful manner,

said the young doctor, laying half a dozen on a green leaf, and offering them to her.

Why, what are they? she asked, looking at him askance.

Sheesh! Did you never hear of it?

Oh, yes, it's that Indian stuff, which brings one fantastic visions, isn't it?

I've always wanted to see and taste it, and now I will, cried Belle,

nibbling at one of the bean-shaped comforts with its green heart.

I advise you not to try it. People do all sorts of queer things when they take it.

I wouldn't for the world, said a prudent young lady, warningly, as all examined the box and its contents.

Six can do no harm, I give you my word. I take twenty before I can enjoy myself, and some people even

more. I've tried many experiments, both on the sick and the well, and nothing ever happened amiss,

though the demonstrations were immensely interesting, said Meredith, eating as sugar plums with a tranquil

air, which was very convincing to the others. How shall I feel? asked Belle, beginning on her second

comfort. A heavenly dreaminess comes over one, in which they move as if on air. Everything is calm and

lovely to them. No pain, no care, no fear of anything, and while at last one feels like an angel, half asleep.

But if one takes too much, how then? said a deep voice behind the doctor.

Hum, well, that's not so pleasant, unless one likes phantoms, frenzies, and a touch of nightmare,

which seems to last a thousand years. Ever try it done, replied Meredith, turning toward the speaker,

who was now leaning on his arm and looking interested. Never. I'm not a good subject for

experiments, too nervous a temperament to play pranks with. I should say ten would be about your

number. Less than that seldom affects men. Ladies go off sooner and don't need so many. Miss St. Just,

may I offer you a taste of Elysium. I owe my success to you, said the doctor, approaching her deferentially.

To me? And how? she asked, lifting her large eyes with a slight smile. I was in the depths of despair

when my eye caught the title of your book, and I was saved, for I remembered that I had hashish in

my pocket. Are you a lotus eater? she said, permitting him to lay the six charmed bonbons on the page.

My faith, no. I use it for my patients. It is very efficacious in nervous disorders,

and is getting to be quite a pet remedy with us. I do not want to forget the past, but to read the

future. Will hashish help me to do that? asked Rose, with an eager look, which made the young

man flush, wondering if he bore any part of her hopes of that veiled future. Alas, no. I wish it could,

for I too long to know my fate, he answered, very low, as he looked into the lovely face before him.

The soft glance changed to one of cool indifference, and Rose gently brushed the hashish of her book,

saying, with a little gesture of dismissal, then I have no desire to taste Elysium.

The white morsels dropped into the grass at her feet, but Dr. Meredith let them lie, and turning

sharply, went back to sun himself in Belle's smiles. I've eaten all mine, and so has Evelyn. Mr. Norton

will see goblins, I know, for he has taken quantities. I'm glad of it, for he does not believe in it,

and I want to have him convinced by making a spectacle of himself for our amusement, said Belle,

in great spirits at the new plan. When does the trance come on? asked Evelyn, a shy girl,

already rather alarmed at what she had done. About three hours after you take your dose,

though the time varies with different people. Your pulse will rise, heart beat quickly,

eyes darken and dilate, and an uplifted sensation will pervade you generally. Then these symptoms

change, and the bliss begins. I've seen people sit or lie in one position for hours, wrapped in a

delicious dream, and wake from it as tranquil as if they had not had a nerve in their bodies.

How charming! I'll take some every time I'm worried. Let me see, it's now four, so our trances will

come about seven, and we will devote the evening to manifestations, said Belle.

Come, Dunn, try it. We are all going in for the fun. Here's your dose, and Meredith tossed him a dozen

bonbons, twisted up in a bit of paper. No, thank you. I know myself too well to risk it. If you are all

going to turn hashish eaters, you'll need someone to take care of you. So I'll keep sober, tossing the

little parcel back. It fell short, and the doctor, too lazy to pick it up, let it lie, merely saying with a laugh,

well, I advise any bashful man to take hashish when he wants to offer his heart to any fair lady,

for it will give him the courage of a hero, and the eloquence of a poet, and the ardor of an Italian.

Remember that, gentlemen, and come to me when the crisis approaches. Does it conquer the pride,

rouse the pity, and soften the hard hearts of the fair sex, asked Dunn? I dare say now is your time to

settle the fact, for here are two ladies who have imbibed, and in three hours will be in such a

seraphic state of mind, that no will be an impossibility to them. Oh mercy on us, what have

we done? If that's the case, I shall shut myself up till my foolish fit is over. Rose, you haven't

taken any. I beg you to mount guard over me, and see that I don't disgrace myself by any nonsense.

Promise me that you will, cried Belle, in half-real, half-feigned alarm at the consequences of her

prank. I promise, said Rose, and floated down the green path as noiselessly as a white cloud,

with a curious smile on her lips. Don't tell any of the rest what we have done, but after tea let us

go into the grove and compare notes, said Norton, as Dunn strolled away to the beach and the voices of

approaching friends broke the summer quiet. At tea the initiated glanced covertly at one another,

and saw, or fancied they saw, the effects of the hashish, in a certain suppressed excitement of manner

and unusually brilliant eyes. Belle laughed often, a silvery ringing laugh, pleasant to hear,

but when complimented on her good spirits she looked distressed, and said she could not help

her merriment. Meredith was quite calm, but rather dreamy. Evelyn was pale, and her next neighbor heard

her heartbeat. Norton talked incessantly, but as he talked uncommonly well, no one suspected anything.

Dunn and Miss St. Just watched the others with interest, and were very quiet, especially Rose,

who scarcely spoke, but smiled her sweetest, and looked very lovely. The moon rose early,

and the experimenters slipped away to the grove, leaving the outsiders on the lawn as usual.

Some bold spirit asked Rose to sing, and she had once complied, pouring out Spanish airs in a voice

that melted the hearts of her audience, so full of fiery sweetness or tragic pathos was it. Dunn seemed

quite carried away, and lay with his face in the grass, to hide the tears that would come, till, afraid

of openly disgracing himself, he started up and hurried down to the little wharf, where he sat alone,

listening to the music with a countenance which plainly revealed to the stars the passion which possessed him.

The sound of loud laughter from the grove, followed by entire silence, caused him to wonder what

demonstrations were taking place, and half resolved to go and see. But that enchanting voice held in captive,

even when a boat put off mysteriously from a point nearby, and sailed away like a phantom through the

twilight. Half an hour afterward, a white figure came down the path, and Rose's voice broke in on

his midsummer night's dream. The moon shone clearly now, and showed him the anxiety in her face as she

said hurriedly, Where is Belle? Gone sailing, I believe. How could you let her go? She was not fit to take care of

herself. I forgot that. So did I, but I promised to watch over her, and I must. Which way did they go?

demanded Rose, wrapping the white mantle about her, and running her eye over the little boats moored

below. Will you follow her? Yes. I'll be your guide then. They went toward the lighthouse. It is too far to

row. I am at your service. Oh, say yes, cried Dunn, leaping into his own skiff and offering his hand

persuasively. She hesitated an instant and looked at him. He was always pale, and the moonlight seemed to

increase this pallor, but his hat grim hid his eyes, and his voice was very quiet. A loud peal of laughter

floated over the water, and as if the sound decided her, she gave him her hand and entered the boat.

Dunn smiled triumphantly as he shook out the sail, which caught the freshening wind,

and sent the boat dancing along a path of light. How lovely it was. All the indescribable allurements

of a perfect summer night surrounded them. Balmy airs, enchanting moonlight, distant music, and close

at hand the delicious atmosphere of love, which made itself felt in the eloquent silences that fell

between them. Rose seemed to yield to the subtle charm, and leaned back on the cushioned seat with her

beautiful head uncovered, her face full of dreamy softness, and her hands lying loosely clasped before

her. She seldom spoke, showed no further anxiety for Belle, and soon seemed to forget the object of

her search. So absorbed was she in some delicious thought, which wrapped her in its peace. Dunn sat opposite,

flushed now, restless and excited, for his eyes glittered.

The hand on the rudder shook, and his voice sounded intense and passionate,

even in the utterance of his simplest words.

He talked continually and with an unusual brilliancy,

for, though a man of many accomplishments,

he was too indolent or too fastidious to exert himself,

except among his peers.

Rose seemed to look without seeing, to listen without hearing,

and though she smiled blissfully, the smiles were evidently not for him.

On they sailed, scarcely heeding the bank of black cloud piled up in the horizon,

the rising wind, or the silence which proved their solitude.

Rose moved once or twice, and lifted her hand as if to speak,

but sank back, mutely, and the hand fell again,

as if it had not energy enough to enforce her wish.

A cloud sweeping over the moon, a distant growl of thunder,

and the slight gust that struck the sail seemed to rouse her.

Don was singing now, like one inspired,

his habitus heat, hair in disorder,

and a strangely rapturous expression in his eyes,

which were fixed on her.

She started, shivered,

and seemed to recover herself with an effort.

Where are they, she asked,

looking vainly for the island heights and the other boat.

They have gone to the beach, I fancy,

but we will follow.

As Dunn leaned forward to speak,

she saw his face,

and shrank back with a sudden flush,

for in it she read clearly what she had felt,

yet doubted until now.

He saw the telltale blush and gesture,

and said impetuously,

You know it now.

You cannot deceive me longer,

or daunt me with your pride.

Rose, I love you,

and dare tell you so tonight.

Not now, not here.

I will not listen.

Turn back and be silent.

I entreat you, Mr. Dunn,

she said freely.

He laughed a defiant laugh,

and took her hand in his,

which was burning and throbbing

with the rapid heat of his pulse.

No, I will have my answer here and now,

and never turn back till you give it.

You have been a thorny, Rose,

and given me many wounds.

I'll be paid for my heartache

with sweet words,

tender looks,

and frank confessions of love,

for proud as you are,

you do love me,

and dare not deny it.

Something in his tone terrified her.

She snatched her hand away

and drew beyond his reach,

trying to speak calmly,

and to meet coldly

the ardent glances of the eyes,

which were strangely darkened

and dilated

with uncontrollable emotion.

You forget yourself.

I shall give no answer

to an avowal made in such terms.

Take me home instantly,

she said in a tone of commut.

Confess you love me, Rose.

Never!

Ah, I'll have a kinder answer,

or done half-rose

and put out his hand to grasp

and draw her to him.

But the cry she uttered

seemed to arrest him

with a sort of shock.

Control yourself!

He dropped into his seat,

passed his hands over his eyes,

and shivered nervously

as he muttered in an altered tone.

I meant nothing.

It's the moonlight.

Sit down.

I'll control myself.

Upon my soul I will.

If you do not,

I shall go overboard.

Are you mad, sir?

cried Rose,

trembling with indignation.

I'm just full.

Then I shall follow you,

for I am mad, Rose,

with love.

Hashish!

His voice sank to a whisper,

but the last word

thrilled along her nerves,

as no sound of fear

had ever done before.

An instant she regarded him

with a look

which took in every sign

of unnatural excitement.

Then she clasped her hands

with an implorable gesture,

saying in a tone of despair,

Oh, Mark, take me home!

Why did I come?

How will it end?

Oh, Mark, take me home

before it is too late!

Hush!

Be calm!

Don't thwart me

or I may get wild again.

My thoughts are not clear,

but I understand you.

There, take my knife,

and if I forget myself,

kill me!

Don't go overboard.

You are too beautiful

to die, my Rose.

He threw her

the slender hunting knife

he wore,

looked at her a moment

with a far-off look,

and trimmed the sail

like one moving in a dream.

Rose took the weapon,

wrapped her cloak

closely about her,

and crouching

as far away as possible,

kept her eye on him,

but with a face

in which watchful terror

contended with

some secret trouble

and bewilderment

more powerful

than her fear.

The boat moved round

and began to beat up

against wind and tide.

Spray flew from her bow.

The sail bent and strained

in the gusts

that struck it

with perilous fitfulness.

The moon was nearly hidden

by scudding clouds,

and one half the sky

was black

with the gathering storm.

Rose looked

from threatening heavens

to treacherous sea

and tried to be ready

for any danger,

but her calm

had been sadly broken

and she could not recover it.

Dunn sat motionless,

uttering no word

of encouragement,

though the frequent flaws

almost tore the rope

from his hand

and the water

often dashed over him.

Are we in any danger?

asked Rose at last,

unable to bear the silence,

for he looked like

a ghostly helmsman

seen by the fitful light,

pale now,

wide-eyed and speechless.

Yes, great danger.

I thought you were

a skillful boatman.

I am when I am myself.

Now I am rapidly losing

the control of my will,

and the strange quiet

is coming over me.

If I had been alone,

I should have given up sooner,

but for your sake,

I've kept on.

Can't you work the boat?

asked Rose,

terror-struck

by the changed tone

of his voice,

the slow, uncertain

movements of his hands.

No, I see everything

through a thick cloud.

Your voice sounds far away,

and my one desire

is to lay my head down

and sleep.

Let me steer.

I can.

I must, she cried,

springing toward him,

laying her hand

on the rudder.

He smiled and kissed

the little hand,

saying dreamily,

You could not hold it

a minute.

Sit by me, love.

Let us turn the boat again

and drift away together,

anywhere,

anywhere out of the world.

Oh, heaven,

what will become of us?

And Rose wrung her hand

in real despair.

Mr. Dunn,

Mark,

dear Mark,

rouse yourself

and listen to me.

Turn, as you say,

for it is certain death

to go on.

Turn and let us drift down

to the lighthouse.

They will hear and help us.

Quick,

take down the sail,

get out the oars,

and let us try to reach there

before the storm breaks.

As Rose spoke,

he obeyed her

like a dumb animal.

Love for her was stronger

even than the instinct

of self-preservation.

And for her sake,

he fought against

the treacherous lethargy,

which was swiftly

overpowering him.

The sail was lowered,

the boat brought round,

and with little help

from the ill-pulled oars,

it drifted rapidly

out to sea

with the ebbing tide.

As she caught her breath

after this dangerous

maneuver was accomplished,

Rose asked,

in a quiet tone,

she vainly tried

to render natural.

How much hashish

did you take?

All that Meredith

threw me?

Too much.

But I was possessed

to do it,

so I hid the role

and tried it,

he answered,

peering at her

with a weird laugh.

Let us talk.

Our safety lies

in keeping awake,

and I dare not

let you sleep,

continued Rose,

dashing water

on her own hot forehead

with a sort of desperation.

Say you love me.

That would wake me

from my lost sleep,

I think.

I have hoped

and feared,

waited and suffered

so long.

Be pitiful

and answer,

Rose.

I do,

but I should not

own it now.

So low

was the soft reply

he scarcely heard it,

but he felt it

and made a strong effort

to break from

the hateful spell

that bound him.

Leaning forward

he tried to read

her face

in a ray of moonlight

breaking through

the clouds.

He saw a new

and tender warmth

for all the pride

was gone

and no fear

marred the eloquence

of those soft

southern eyes.

Kiss me,

Rose,

then I shall believe it.

I feel lost

in a dream

and you,

so changed,

so kind,

maybe only a fair phantom.

Kiss me, love,

and make it real.

As if swayed

by a power

more potent

than her will,

Rose bent

to meet his lips.

But the ardent pressure

seemed to startle her

from a momentary oblivion

of everything but love.

She covered up her face

and sank down

as if overwhelmed

with shame,

sobbing

through passionate tears.

Oh,

what am I doing?

I am mad,

for I too

have taken hashish.

What he answered

she never heard,

for a rattling

peal of thunder

drowned his voice,

and then the storm

broke loose.

Rain fell in torrents,

the wind blew fiercely,

sky and sea

were black as ink,

and the boat

tossed from wave

to wave

almost at their mercy.

Giving herself up

for lost,

Rose crept

to her lover's side

and clung there,

conscious only

that they would

bide together

through the perils

their own folly

brought them.

Dunn's excitement

was quite gone now.

He sat like a statue,

shielding the frail creature

whom he loved

with a smile on his face,

which looked

awfully emotionless

when the lightning

gave her glimpses

of its white immobility.

Drenched,

exhausted,

and half senseless

with danger,

fear,

and exposure,

Rose saw at last

a welcome glimmer

through the gloom

and roused herself

to cry for help.

Mark,

wake and help me!

Shout for God's sake!

Shout and call them,

for we are lost

if we drift by,

she cried,

lifting his head

from his breast

and forcing him

to see the brilliant

beacons streaming

far across

the troubled water.

He understood her

and springing up

uttered shout after shout

like one demented.

Fortunately,

the storm

had lulled a little.

The lighthouse keeper

heard and answered.

Rose seized the helm,

done the oars,

and with one frantic effort

guided the boat

into quieter waters

where it was met

by the keeper

who towed it

to the rocky nook

which served as harbor.

The moment

a strong,

steady face

met her eyes

and a gruff,

cheery voice

hailed her,

Rose gave way

and was carried

up to the house

looking more like

a beautiful,

drowned Ophelia

than a living woman.

Here, Sally,

see to the poor thing.

She's had a rough

time on it.

I'll take care

of her sweetheart

and a nice job

I'll have,

I reckon.

For if he ain't

mad or drunk

he's had a stroke

of lightning

and looks as if

he wouldn't get

his hearing in a hurry,

said the old man

as he housed

his unexpected guests

and stood staring

at Dunn

who looked about him

like one dazed.

You just turn in yonder

and sleep it off, mate.

We'll see to the lady

and ride up your boat

in the morning,

the old man added.

Be kind to Rose.

I frightened her.

I'll not forget you.

Yes, let me sleep

and get over this

cursed folly

as soon as possible,

muttered this

strange visitor.

Dunn threw himself

down on the rough couch

and tried to sleep,

but every nerve

was overstrained,

every pulse beating

like a trip hammer,

and everything about him

was intensified

and exaggerated

with awful power.

The thundershower

seemed a wild hurricane,

the quaint room,

a wilderness

peopled with

tormenting phantoms,

and all the events

of his life

passed before him

in an endless procession

which nearly maddened him.

The old man

looked weird and gigantic,

his own voice

sounded shrill

and discordant,

and the ceaseless murmur

of Rose's

incoherent wanderings

haunted him

like parts of a grotesque

but dreadful dream.

All night he lay motionless

with staring eyes,

feverish lips,

and a mind on the rack

for the delicate machinery

which had been tampered with,

revenged the wrong

by torturing

the foolish experimenter.

All night Rose

wept and sang,

talked and cried for help

in a piteous state

of nervous excitement,

for with her

the trance came first,

and the after-agitation

was increased

by the events

of the evening.

She slept at last,

lulled by the old woman's

motherly care,

and Dunn was spared

one tormenting fear,

for he dreaded

the consequences

of this folly

on her

more than upon himself.

As day dawned,

he rose,

haggard and faint,

and staggered out.

At the door

he met the keeper,

who stopped him

to report

that the boat

was in order

and a fair day coming.

Seeing doubt

and perplexity

in the old man's eyes,

Dunn told him

the truth,

and added that

he was going

to the beach

for a plunge,

hoping by that

simple tonic

to restore

his unstrung nerves.

He came back

feeling like himself again,

except for a dull headache

and a heavy sense

of remorse

weighing on his spirits,

for he distinctly

recollected

all the events

of the night.

The old woman

made him eat and drink,

and in an hour

he felt ready

for the homeward trip.

Rose slept late,

and when she woke

soon recovered herself,

for her dose

had been a small one.

When she had breakfasted

and made a hasty toilet,

she professed herself

anxious to return

at once.

She dreaded yet long

to see Dunn,

and when the time came

armed herself

with pride,

feeling all a woman's

shame at what had passed

and resolving

to feign forgetfulness

of the incidents

of the previous night.

Pale and cold

as a statue

she met him,

but the moment

he began to say humbly,

I'm sorry.

Forgive me, Rose.

She silenced him

with an imperious gesture

in the command.

Don't speak of it.

I only remember

that it was very horrible

and wished to forget

it all as soon

as possible.

All?

All, Rose,

he asked significantly.

All?

Yes, all.

No one would care

to recall the follies

of a hashish dream,

she answered,

turning hastily

to hide the scarlet

flush that would rise

and the eyes

that would fall

before his own.

I can never forget,

but I will be silent

if you bid me.

I do.

Let us go.

What will they think

at the island?

Mr. Dunn,

give me your promise

to tell no one,

now or ever,

that I tried

that dangerous experiment.

I will guard

your secret also.

She spoke eagerly

and looked up

imploringly.

I promise,

and he gave her his hand,

holding her own

with a wistful glance,

till she drew it away

and begged him

to take her home.

Please, let's go, ma'am.

Leaving hearty thanks

and a generous token

of their gratitude,

they sailed away

with a fair wind,

finding in the freshness

of the morning

a speedy cure

for tired bodies

and excited minds.

They said little,

but it was impossible

for Rose

to preserve her coldness.

The memory

of the past night

broke down her pride,

and Dunn's tender glances

touched her heart.

She half hid her face

behind her hand

and tried to compose herself

for the scene to come,

for as she approached

the island,

she saw Belle

and her party

waiting for them

on the shore.

Oh, Mr. Dunn,

screen me from their eyes

and questions

as much as you can.

I'm so worn out

and nervous.

I shall betray myself.

You will help me?

And she turned to him

with a confiding look,

strangely at variance

with her usual

calm self-possession.

I'll shield you

with my life

if you tell me

why you took the hashi,

she said,

bent on knowing his fate.

I hoped it would

make me soft

and lovable

like other women.

I'm tired of being

a lonely statue,

she faltered,

as if the truth

was wrung from her

by a power

stronger than her will.

And I took it

to gain courage

to tell my love.

Rose,

we have been

near death together.

Let us share

life together,

and neither of us

be any more lonely

or afraid.

He stretched his hand

to her with his heart

in his face,

and she gave him hers

with a look

of tender submission

as he said ardently,

Heaven bless Hashish

if its dreams

end like this.