f his skull, that he
saw--his mundane surroundings did not disturb his visions. And the waves
of dolour swept over his consciousness. A mingling of tuberoses,
narcissus, attar of roses, and ambergris he detected in the air--as
_triste_ as a morbid nocturne of Chopin. This was followed by a blending
of heliotrope, moss-rose, and hyacinth, together with dainty touches of
geranium. He dreamed of Beethoven's manly music when whiffs of
apple-blossom, white rose, cedar, and balsam reached him. Mozart passed
roguishly by in strains of scarlet pimpernel, mignonette, syringa, and
violets. Then the sky was darkened with Schumann's perverse harmonies as
jasmine, lavender, and lime were sprayed over him. Music, surely, was
the art nearest akin to odour. A superb and subtle chord floated about
him; it was composed of vervain, opoponax, and frangipane. He could not
conceive of a more unearthly triad. It was music from Parsifal. Through
the mists that were gathering he savoured a fulminating bouquet of
patchouli, musk, bergamot, and he recalled the music of Mascagni. Brahms
strode stolidly on in company with new-mown hay, cologne, and sweet
peas. Liszt was interpreted as ylang-ylang, myrrh, and marechale;
Richard Strauss, by wistaria, oil of cloves, chypre, poppy, and
crab-apple.

Suddenly there developed a terrific orchestration of chromatic odours:
ambrosia, cassia, orange, peach-blossoms, and musk of Tonkin, magnolia,
eglantine, hortensia, lilac, saffron, begonia, peau d'Espagne, acacia,
carnation, liban, fleur de Takeoka, cypress, oil of almonds, benzoin,
jacinth, rue, shrub, olea, clematis, the hediosma of Jamaica, olive,
vanilla, cinnamon, petunia, lotus, frankincense, sorrel, neroli from
Japan, jonquil, verbena, spikenard, thyme, hyssop, and decaying orchids.
This quintessential medley was as the sonorous blasts of Berlioz,
repugnant and exquisite; it swayed the soul of Baldur as the wind sways
the flame. There were odours like winged dreams; odours as the plucked
sounds of celestial harps; odours mystic and evil, corrupt and opulent;
odours recalling the sweet, dense smell of chloroform; odours evil,
angelic, and anonymous. They painted--painted by Satan!--upon his
cerebellum more than music--music that merged into picture; and he was
again in the glade of the Druids. The huge scent-symphony dissolved in a
shower of black roses which covered the ground ankle-deep. An antique
temple of exotic architecture had thrown open its br