J. S. Le Fanu\'s Ghostly Tales, Volume 1 by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
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Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu >> J. S. Le Fanu\'s Ghostly Tales, Volume 1
J. S. LE FANU'S GHOSTLY TALES, VOLUME 1
Schalken the Painter (1851)
and
An Account of Some Strange Disturbances in Aungier Street (1853)
by
Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
Schalken the Painter
_"For he is not a man as I am that
we should come together; neither is
there any that might lay his hand
upon us both. Let him, therefore,
take his rod away from me, and let
not his fear terrify me."_
There exists, at this moment, in good preservation a remarkable work of
Schalken's. The curious management of its lights constitutes, as usual
in his pieces, the chief apparent merit of the picture. I say
_apparent_, for in its subject, and not in its handling, however
exquisite, consists its real value. The picture represents the interior
of what might be a chamber in some antique religious building; and its
foreground is occupied by a female figure, in a species of white robe,
part of which is arranged so as to form a veil. The dress, however, is
not that of any religious order. In her hand the figure bears a lamp, by
which alone her figure and face are illuminated; and her features wear
such an arch smile, as well becomes a pretty woman when practising some
prankish roguery; in the background, and, excepting where the dim red
light of an expiring fire serves to define the form, in total shadow,
stands the figure of a man dressed in the old Flemish fashion, in an
attitude of alarm, his hand being placed upon the hilt of his sword,
which he appears to be in the act of drawing.
There are some pictures, which impress one, I know not how, with a
conviction that they represent not the mere ideal shapes and
combinations which have floated through the imagination of the artist,
but scenes, faces, and situations which have actually existed. There is
in that strange picture, something that stamps it as the representation
of a reality.
And such in truth it is, for it faithfully records a remarkable and
mysterious occurrence, and perpetuates, in the face of the female
figure, which occupies the most prominent place in the design, an
accurate portrait of Rose Velderkaust, the niece of Gerard Douw, the
first, and, I believe, the only love of Godfrey Schalken. My great
grandfather knew the painter well; and from Schalken himself he learned
the fearful story of the painting, and from him too he ultimately
received the picture itself as a bequest. The story and the picture have
become heir-looms in my family, and having described the latter, I
shall, if you please, attempt to relate the tradition which has
descended with the canvas.
There are few forms on which the mantle of romance hangs more
ungracefully than upon that of the uncouth Schalken--the boorish but
most cunning worker in oils, whose pieces delight the critics of our day
almost as much as his manners disgusted the refined of his own; and yet
this man, so rude, so dogged, so slovenly, in the midst of his
celebrity, had in his obscure, but happier days, played the hero in a
wild romance of mystery and passion.
When Schalken studied under the immortal Gerard Douw, he was a very
young man; and in spite of his phlegmatic temperament, he at once fell
over head and ears in love with the beautiful niece of his wealthy
master. Rose Velderkaust was still younger than he, having not yet
attained her seventeenth year, and, if tradition speaks truth, possessed
all the soft and dimpling charms of the fair, light-haired Flemish
maidens. The young painter loved honestly and fervently. His frank
adoration was rewarded. He declared his love, and extracted a faltering
confession in return. He was the happiest and proudest painter in all
Christendom. But there was somewhat to dash his elation; he was poor and
undistinguished. He dared not ask old Gerard for the hand of his sweet
ward. He must first win a reputation and a competence.
There were, therefore, many dread uncertainties and cold days before
him; he had to fight his way against sore odds. But he had won the heart
of dear Rose Velderkaust, and that was half the battle. It is needless
to say his exertions were redoubled, and his lasting celebrity proves
that his industry was not unrewarded by success.
These ardent labours, and worse still, the hopes that elevated and
beguiled them, were however, destined to experience a sudden
interruption--of a character so strange and mysterious as to baffle all
inquiry and to throw over the events themselves a shadow of
preternatural horror.
Schalken had one evening outstayed all his fellow-pupils, and still
pursued his work in the deserted room. As the daylight was fast falling,
he laid aside his colours, and applied himself to the completion of a
sketch on which he had expressed extraordinary pains. It was a religious
composition, and represented the temptations of a pot-bellied Saint
Anthony. The young artist, however destitute of elevation, had,
nevertheless, discernment enough to be dissatisfied with his own work,
and many were the patient erasures and improvements which saint and
devil underwent, yet all in vain. The large, old-fashioned room was
silent, and, with the exception of himself, quite emptied of its usual
inmates. An hour had thus passed away, nearly two, without any improved
result. Daylight had already declined, and twilight was deepening into
the darkness of night. The patience of the young painter was exhausted,
and he stood before his unfinished production, angry and mortified, one
hand buried in the folds of his long hair, and the other holding the
piece of charcoal which had so ill-performed its office, and which he
now rubbed, without much regard to the sable streaks it produced, with
irritable pressure upon his ample Flemish inexpressibles. "Curse the
subject!" said the young man aloud; "curse the picture, the devils, the
saint--"
At this moment a short, sudden sniff uttered close beside him made the
artist turn sharply round, and he now, for the first time, became aware
that his labours had been overlooked by a stranger. Within about a yard
and half, and rather behind him, there stood the figure of an elderly
man in a cloak and broad-brimmed, conical hat; in his hand, which was
protected with a heavy gauntlet-shaped glove, he carried a long ebony
walking-stick, surmounted with what appeared, as it glittered dimly in
the twilight, to be a massive head of gold, and upon his breast, through
the folds of the cloak, there shone the links of a rich chain of the
same metal. The room was so obscure that nothing further of the
appearance of the figure could be ascertained, and his hat threw his
features into profound shadow. It would not have been easy to conjecture
the age of the intruder; but a quantity of dark hair escaping from
beneath this sombre hat, as well as his firm and upright carriage served
to indicate that his years could not yet exceed threescore, or
thereabouts. There was an air of gravity and importance about the garb
of the person, and something indescribably odd, I might say awful, in
the perfect, stone-like stillness of the figure, that effectually
checked the testy comment which had at once risen to the lips of the
irritated artist. He, therefore, as soon as he had sufficiently
recovered his surprise, asked the stranger, civilly, to be seated, and
desired to know if he had any message to leave for his master.
"Tell Gerard Douw," said the unknown, without altering his attitude in
the smallest degree, "that Minheer Vanderhausen, of Rotterdam, desires
to speak with him on tomorrow evening at this hour, and if he please, in
this room, upon matters of weight; that is all."
The stranger, having finished this message, turned abruptly, and, with a
quick, but silent step quitted the room, before Schalken had time to say
a word in reply. The young man felt a curiosity to see in what direction
the burgher of Rotterdam would turn, on quitting the studio, and for
that purpose he went directly to the window which commanded the door. A
lobby of considerable extent intervened between the inner door of the
painter's room and the street entrance, so that Schalken occupied the
post of observation before the old man could possibly have reached the
street. He watched in vain, however. There was no other mode of exit.
Had the queer old man vanished, or was he lurking about the recesses of
the lobby for some sinister purpose? This last suggestion filled the
mind of Schalken with a vague uneasiness, which was so unaccountably
intense as to make him alike afraid to remain in the room alone, and
reluctant to pass through the lobby. However, with an effort which
appeared very disproportioned to the occasion, he summoned resolution to
leave the room, and, having locked the door and thrust the key in his
pocket, without looking to the right or left, he traversed the passage
which had so recently, perhaps still, contained the person of his
mysterious visitant, scarcely venturing to breathe till he had arrived
in the open street.
"Minheer Vanderhausen!" said Gerard Douw within himself, as the
appointed hour approached, "Minheer Vanderhausen, of Rotterdam! I never
heard of the man till yesterday. What can he want of me? A portrait,
perhaps, to be painted; or a poor relation to be apprenticed; or a
collection to be valued; or--pshaw! there's no one in Rotterdam to leave
me a legacy. Well, whatever the business may be, we shall soon know it
all."
It was now the close of day, and again every easel, except that of
Schalken, was deserted. Gerard Douw was pacing the apartment with the
restless step of impatient expectation, sometimes pausing to glance over
the work of one of his absent pupils, but more frequently placing
himself at the window, from whence he might observe the passengers who
threaded the obscure by-street in which his studio was placed.
"Said you not, Godfrey," exclaimed Douw, after a long and fruitful gaze
from his post of observation, and turning to Schalken, "that the hour he
appointed was about seven by the clock of the Stadhouse?"
"It had just told seven when I first saw him, sir," answered the
student.
"The hour is close at hand, then," said the master, consulting a
horologe as large and as round as an orange. "Minheer Vanderhausen from
Rotterdam--is it not so?"
"Such was the name."
"And an elderly man, richly clad?" pursued Douw, musingly.
"As well as I might see," replied his pupil; "he could not be young, nor
yet very old, neither; and his dress was rich and grave, as might become
a citizen of wealth and consideration."
At this moment the sonorous boom of the Stadhouse clock told, stroke
after stroke, the hour of seven; the eyes of both master and student
were directed to the door; and it was not until the last peal of the
bell had ceased to vibrate, that Douw exclaimed----
"So, so; we shall have his worship presently, that is, if he means to
keep his hour; if not, you may wait for him, Godfrey, if you court his
acquaintance. But what, after all, if it should prove but a mummery got
up by Vankarp, or some such wag? I wish you had run all risks, and
cudgelled the old burgomaster soundly. I'd wager a dozen of Rhenish, his
worship would have unmasked, and pleaded old acquaintance in a trice."
"Here he comes, sir," said Schalken, in a low monitory tone; and
instantly, upon turning towards the door, Gerard Douw observed the same
figure which had, on the day before, so unexpectedly greeted his pupil
Schalken.
There was something in the air of the figure which at once satisfied the
painter that there was no masquerading in the case, and that he really
stood in the presence of a man of worship; and so, without hesitation,
he doffed his cap, and courteously saluting the stranger, requested him
to be seated. The visitor waved his hand slightly, as if in
acknowledgment of the courtesy, but remained standing.
"I have the honour to see Minheer Vanderhausen of Rotterdam?" said
Gerard Douw.
"The same," was the laconic reply of his visitor.
"I understand your worship desires to speak with me," continued Douw,
"and I am here by appointment to wait your commands."
"Is that a man of trust?" said Vanderhausen, turning towards Schalken,
who stood at a little distance behind his master.
"Certainly," replied Gerard.
"Then let him take this box, and get the nearest jeweller or goldsmith
to value its contents, and let him return hither with a certificate of
the valuation."
At the same time, he placed a small case about nine inches square in the
hands of Gerard Douw, who was as much amazed at its weight as at the
strange abruptness with which it was handed to him. In accordance with
the wishes of the stranger, he delivered it into the hands of Schalken,
and repeating his direction, despatched him upon the mission.
Schalken disposed his precious charge securely beneath the folds of his
cloak, and rapidly traversing two or three narrow streets, he stopped at
a corner house, the lower part of which was then occupied by the shop of
a Jewish goldsmith. He entered the shop, and calling the little Hebrew
into the obscurity of its back recesses, he proceeded to lay before him
Vanderhausen's casket. On being examined by the light of a lamp, it
appeared entirely cased with lead, the outer surface of which was much
scraped and soiled, and nearly white with age. This having been
partially removed, there appeared beneath a box of some hard wood; which
also they forced open and after the removal of two or three folds of
linen, they discovered its contents to be a mass of golden ingots,
closely packed, and, as the Jew declared, of the most perfect quality.
Every ingot underwent the scrutiny of the little Jew, who seemed to feel
an epicurean delight in touching and testing these morsels of the
glorious metal; and each one of them was replaced in its berth with the
exclamation: "_Mein Gott_, how very perfect! not one grain of
alloy--beautiful, beautiful!" The task was at length finished, and the
Jew certified under his hand the value of the ingots submitted to his
examination, to amount to many thousand rix-dollars. With the desired
document in his pocket, and the rich box of gold carefully pressed under
his arm, and concealed by his cloak, he retraced his way, and entering
the studio, found his master and the stranger in close conference.
Schalken had no sooner left the room, in order to execute the commission
he had taken in charge, than Vanderhausen addressed Gerard Douw in the
following terms:----
"I cannot tarry with you to-night more than a few minutes, and so I
shall shortly tell you the matter upon which I come. You visited the
town of Rotterdam some four months ago, and then I saw in the church of
St. Lawrence your niece, Rose Velderkaust. I desire to marry her; and if
I satisfy you that I am wealthier than any husband you can dream of for
her, I expect that you will forward my suit with your authority. If you
approve my proposal, you must close with it here and now, for I cannot
wait for calculations and delays."
Gerard Douw was hugely astonished by the nature of Minheer
Vanderhausen's communication, but he did not venture to express
surprise; for besides the motives supplied by prudence and politeness,
the painter experienced a kind of chill and oppression like that which
is said to intervene when one is placed in unconscious proximity with
the object of a natural antipathy--an undefined but overpowering
sensation, while standing in the presence of the eccentric stranger,
which made him very unwilling to say anything which might reasonably
offend him.
"I have no doubt," said Gerard, after two or three prefatory hems, "that
the alliance which you propose would prove alike advantageous and
honourable to my niece; but you must be aware that she has a will of her
own, and may not acquiesce in what _we_ may design for her advantage."
"Do not seek to deceive me, sir painter," said Vanderhausen; "you are
her guardian--she is your ward--she is mine if _you_ like to make her
so."
The man of Rotterdam moved forward a little as he spoke, and Gerard
Douw, he scarce knew why, inwardly prayed for the speedy return of
Schalken.
"I desire," said the mysterious gentleman, "to place in your hands at
once an evidence of my wealth, and a security for my liberal dealing
with your niece. The lad will return in a minute or two with a sum in
value five times the fortune which she has a right to expect from her
husband. This shall lie in your hands, together with her dowry, and you
may apply the united sum as suits her interest best; it shall be all
exclusively hers while she lives: is that liberal?"
Douw assented, and inwardly acknowledged that fortune had been
extraordinarily kind to his niece; the stranger, he thought, must be
both wealthy and generous, and such an offer was not to be despised,
though made by a humourist, and one of no very prepossessing presence.
Rose had no very high pretensions for she had but a modest dowry, which
she owed entirely to the generosity of her uncle; neither had she any
right to raise exceptions on the score of birth, for her own origin was
far from splendid, and as the other objections, Gerald resolved, and
indeed, by the usages of the time, was warranted in resolving, not to
listen to them for a moment.
"Sir" said he, addressing the stranger, "your offer is liberal, and
whatever hesitation I may feel in closing with it immediately, arises
solely from my not having the honour of knowing anything of your family
or station. Upon these points you can, of course, satisfy me without
difficulty?'
"As to my respectability," said the stranger, drily, "you must take that
for granted at present; pester me with no inquiries; you can discover
nothing more about me than I choose to make known. You shall have
sufficient security for my respectability--my word, if you are
honourable: if you are sordid, my gold."
"A testy old gentleman," thought Douw, "he must have his own way; but,
all things considered, I am not justified to declining his offer. I will
not pledge myself unnecessarily, however."
"You will not pledge yourself unnecessarily," said Vanderhausen,
strangely uttering the very words which had just floated through the
mind of his companion; "but you will do so if it is necessary, I
presume; and I will show you that I consider it indispensable. If the
gold I mean to leave in your hands satisfy you, and if you don't wish my
proposal to be at once withdrawn, you must, before I leave this room,
write your name to this engagement."
Having thus spoken, he placed a paper in the hands of the master, the
contents of which expressed an engagement entered into by Gerard Douw,
to give to Wilken Vanderhausen of Rotterdam, in marriage, Rose
Velderkaust, and so forth, within one week of the date thereof. While
the painter was employed in reading this covenant, by the light of a
twinkling oil lamp in the far wall of the room, Schalken, as we have
stated, entered the studio, and having delivered the box and the
valuation of the Jew, into the hands of the stranger, he was about to
retire, when Vanderhausen called to him to wait; and, presenting the
case and the certificate to Gerard Douw, he paused in silence until he
had satisfied himself, by an inspection of both, respecting the value of
the pledge left in his hands. At length he said----
"Are you content?"
The painter said he would fain have another day to consider.
"Not an hour," said the suitor, apathetically.
"Well then," said Douw, with a sore effort, "I am content, it is a
bargain."
"Then sign at once," said Vanderhausen, "for I am weary."
At the same time he produced a small case of writing materials, and
Gerard signed the important document.
"Let this youth witness the covenant," said the old man; and Godfrey
Schalken unconsciously attested the instrument which for ever bereft him
of his dear Rose Velderkaust.
The compact being thus completed, the strange visitor folded up the
paper, and stowed it safely in an inner pocket.
"I will visit you to-morrow night at nine o'clock, at your own house,
Gerard Douw, and will see the object of our contract;" and so saying
Wilken Vanderhausen moved stiffly, but rapidly, out of the room.
Schalken, eager to resolve his doubts, had placed himself by the window,
in order to watch the street entrance; but the experiment served only to
support his suspicions, for the old man did not issue from the door.
This was _very_ strange, odd, nay fearful. He and his master returned
together, and talked but little on the way, for each had his own
subjects of reflection, of anxiety, and of hope. Schalken, however, did
not know the ruin which menaced his dearest projects.
Gerard Douw knew nothing of the attachment which had sprung up between
his pupil and his niece; and even if he had, it is doubtful whether he
would have regarded its existence as any serious obstruction to the
wishes of Minheer Vanderhausen. Marriages were then and there matters of
traffic and calculation; and it would have appeared as absurd in the
eyes of the guardian to make a mutual attachment an essential element in
a contract of the sort, as it would have been to draw up his bonds and
receipts in the language of romance.
The painter, however, did not communicate to his niece the important
step which he had taken in her behalf, a forebearance caused not by any
anticipated opposition on her part, but solely by a ludicrous
consciousness that if she were to ask him for a description of her
destined bridegroom, he would be forced to confess that he had not once
seen his face, and if called upon, would find it absolutely impossible
to identify him. Upon the next day, Gerard Douw, after dinner, called
his niece to him and having scanned her person with an air of
satisfaction, he took her hand, and looking upon her pretty innocent
face with a smile of kindness, he said:----
"Rose, my girl, that face of yours will make your fortune." Rose blushed
and smiled. "Such faces and such tempers seldom go together, and when
they do, the compound is a love charm, few heads or hearts can resist;
trust me, you will soon be a bride, girl. But this is trifling, and I am
pressed for time, so make ready the large room by eight o'clock
to-night, and give directions for supper at nine. I expect a friend; and
observe me, child, do you trick yourself out handsomely. I will not have
him think us poor or sluttish."
With these words he left her, and took his way to the room in which his
pupils worked.
When the evening closed in, Gerard called Schalken, who was about to
take his departure to his own obscure and comfortless lodgings, and
asked him to come home and sup with Rose and Vanderhausen. The
invitation was, of course, accepted and Gerard Douw and his pupil soon
found themselves in the handsome and, even then, antique chamber, which
had been prepared for the reception of the stranger. A cheerful wood
fire blazed in the hearth, a little at one side of which an
old-fashioned table, which shone in the fire-light like burnished gold,
was awaiting the supper, for which preparations were going forward; and
ranged with exact regularity, stood the tall-backed chairs, whose
ungracefulness was more than compensated by their comfort. The little
party, consisting of Rose, her uncle, and the artist, awaited the
arrival of the expected visitor with considerable impatience. Nine
o'clock at length came, and with it a summons at the street door, which
being speedily answered, was followed by a slow and emphatic tread upon
the staircase; the steps moved heavily across the lobby, the door of the
room in which the party we have described were assembled slowly opened,
and there entered a figure which startled, almost appalled, the
phlegmatic Dutchmen, and nearly made Rose scream with terror. It was the
form, and arrayed in the garb of Minheer Vanderhausen; the air, the
gait, the height were the same, but the features had never been seen by
any of the party before. The stranger stopped at the door of the room,
and displayed his form and face completely. He wore a dark-coloured
cloth cloak, which was short and full, not falling quite to his knees;
his legs were cased in dark purple silk stockings, and his shoes were
adorned with roses of the same colour. The opening of the cloak in front
showed the under-suit to consist of some very dark, perhaps sable
material, and his hands were enclosed in a pair of heavy leather gloves,
which ran up considerably above the wrist, in the manner of a gauntlet.
In one hand he carried his walking-stick and his hat, which he had
removed, and the other hung heavily by his side. A quantity of grizzled
hair descended in long tresses from his head, and rested upon the plaits
of a stiff ruff, which effectually concealed his neck. So far all was
well; but the face!--all the flesh of the face was coloured with the
bluish leaden hue, which is sometimes produced by metallic medicines,
administered in excessive quantities; the eyes showed an undue
proportion of muddy white, and had a certain indefinable character of
insanity; the hue of the lips bearing the usual relation to that of the
face, was, consequently, nearly black; and the entire character of the
face was sensual, malignant, and even satanic. It was remarkable that
the worshipful stranger suffered as little as possible of his flesh to
appear, and that during his visit he did not once remove his gloves.
Having stood for some moments at the door, Gerard Douw at length found
breath and collectedness to bid him welcome, and with a mute inclination
of the head, the stranger stepped forward into the room. There was
something indescribably odd, even horrible, about all his motions,
something undefinable, that was unnatural, unhuman; it was as if the
limbs were guided and directed by a spirit unused to the management of
bodily machinery. The stranger spoke hardly at all during his visit,
which did not exceed half an hour; and the host himself could scarcely
muster courage enough to utter the few necessary salutations and
courtesies; and, indeed, such was the nervous terror which the presence
of Vanderhausen inspired, that very little would have made all his
entertainers fly in downright panic from the room. They had not so far
lost all self-possession, however, as to fail to observe two strange
peculiarities of their visitor. During his stay his eyelids did not once
close, or, indeed, move in the slightest degree; and farther, there was
a deathlike stillness in his whole person, owing to the absence of the
heaving motion of the chest, caused by the process of respiration. These
two peculiarities, though when told they may appear trifling, produced a
very striking and unpleasant effect when seen and observed. Vanderhausen
at length relieved the painter of Leyden of his inauspicious presence;
and with no trifling sense of relief the little party heard the street
door close after him.