STRANGE EVENT IN THE LIFE OF SCHALKEN THE PAINTER.
Being a Seventh Extract from the Legacy of the late Francis Purcell, P. P. of Drumcoolagh.
You will no doubt be surprised, my dear friend, at the subject of thefollowing narrative. What had I to do with Schalken, or Schalken withme? He had returned to his native land, and was probably dead andburied, before I was born; I never visited Holland nor spoke with anative of that country. So much I believe you already know. I must,then, give you my authority, and state to you frankly the ground uponwhich rests the credibility of the strange story which I am, about tolay before you.
I was acquainted, in my early days, with a Captain Vandael, whose fatherhad served King William in the Low Countries, and also in my own unhappyland during the Irish campaigns. I know not how it happened that I likedthis man's society, spite of his politics and religion: but so it was;and it was by means of the free intercourse to which our intimacy gaverise that I became possessed of the curious tale which you are about tohear.
I had often been struck, while visiting Vandael, by a remarkablepicture, in which, though no connoisseur myself, I could not fail todiscern some very strong peculiarities, particularly in the distributionof light and shade, as also a certain oddity in the design itself, whichinterested my curiosity. It represented the interior of what might be achamber in some antique religious building--the foreground was occupiedby a female figure, arrayed in a species of white robe, part of which isarranged so as to form a veil. The dress, however, is not strictly thatof any religious order. In its hand the figure bears a lamp, by whoselight alone the form and face are illuminated; the features are markedby an arch smile, such as pretty women wear when engaged in successfullypractising some roguish trick; in the background, and, excepting wherethe dim red light of an expiring fire serves to define the form, totallyin the shade, stands the figure of a man equipped in the old fashion,with doublet and so forth, in an attitude of alarm, his hand beingplaced upon the hilt of his sword, which he appears to be in the act ofdrawing.
'There are some pictures,' said I to my friend, 'which impress one, Iknow not how, with a conviction that they represent not the mere idealshapes and combinations which have floated through the imaginationof the artist, but scenes, faces, and situations which have actuallyexisted. When I look upon that picture, something assures me that Ibehold the representation of a reality.'
Vandael smiled, and, fixing his eyes upon the painting musingly, hesaid:
'Your fancy has not deceived you, my good friend, for that picture isthe record, and I believe a faithful one, of a remarkable and mysteriousoccurrence. It was painted by Schalken, and contains, in the face of thefemale figure, which occupies the most prominent place in the design,an accurate portrait of Rose Velderkaust, the niece of Gerard Douw, thefirst and, I believe, the only love of Godfrey Schalken. My father knewthe painter well, and from Schalken himself he learned the story ofthe mysterious drama, one scene of which the picture has embodied. Thispainting, which is accounted a fine specimen of Schalken's style, wasbequeathed to my father by the artist's will, and, as you have observed,is a very striking and interesting production.'
I had only to request Vandael to tell the story of the painting in orderto be gratified; and thus it is that I am enabled to submit to you afaithful recital of what I heard myself, leaving you to reject or toallow the evidence upon which the truth of the tradition depends, withthis one assurance, that Schalken was an honest, blunt Dutchman, and,I believe, wholly incapable of committing a flight of imagination; andfurther, that Vandael, from whom I heard the story, appeared firmlyconvinced of its truth.
There are few forms upon which the mantle of mystery and romancecould seem to hang more ungracefully than upon that of the uncouth andclownish Schalken--the Dutch boor--the rude and dogged, but most cunningworker in oils, whose pieces delight the initiated of the present dayalmost as much as his manners disgusted the refined of his own; and yetthis man, so rude, so dogged, so slovenly, I had almost said so savage,in mien and manner, during his after successes, had been selected bythe capricious goddess, in his early life, to figure as the hero of aromance by no means devoid of interest or of mystery.
Who can tell how meet he may have been in his young days to play thepart of the lover or of the hero--who can say that in early life he hadbeen the same harsh, unlicked, and rugged boor that, in his maturer age,he proved--or how far the neglected rudeness which afterwards markedhis air, and garb, and manners, may not have been the growth of thatreckless apathy not unfrequently produced by bitter misfortunes anddisappointments in early life?
These questions can never now be answered.
We must content ourselves, then, with a plain statement of facts, orwhat have been received and transmitted as such, leaving matters ofspeculation to those who like them.
When Schalken studied under the immortal Gerard Douw, he was a youngman; and in spite of the phlegmatic constitution and unexcitable mannerwhich he shared, we believe, with his countrymen, he was not incapableof deep and vivid impressions, for it is an established fact that theyoung painter looked with considerable interest upon the beautiful nieceof his wealthy master.
Rose Velderkaust was very young, having, at the period of which wespeak, not yet attained her seventeenth year, and, if tradition speakstruth, possessed all the soft dimpling charms of the fail; light-hairedFlemish maidens. Schalken had not studied long in the school of GerardDouw, when he felt this interest deepening into something of a keenerand intenser feeling than was quite consistent with the tranquillity ofhis honest Dutch heart; and at the same time he perceived, or thought heperceived, flattering symptoms of a reciprocity of liking, and thiswas quite sufficient to determine whatever indecision he might haveheretofore experienced, and to lead him to devote exclusively to herevery hope and feeling of his heart. In short, he was as much in love asa Dutchman could be. He was not long in making his passion known tothe pretty maiden herself, and his declaration was followed by acorresponding confession upon her part.
Schalken, however, was a poor man, and he possessed no counterbalancingadvantages of birth or position to induce the old man to consent toa union which must involve his niece and ward in the strugglings anddifficulties of a young and nearly friendless artist. He was, therefore,to wait until time had furnished him with opportunity, and accident withsuccess; and then, if his labours were found sufficiently lucrative, itwas to be hoped that his proposals might at least be listened to by herjealous guardian. Months passed away, and, cheered by the smiles of thelittle Rose, Schalken's labours were redoubled, and with such effect andimprovement as reasonably to promise the realisation of his hopes,and no contemptible eminence in his art, before many years should haveelapsed.
The even course of this cheering prosperity was, however, destined toexperience a sudden and formidable interruption, and that, too, in amanner so strange and mysterious as to baffle all investigation, andthrow upon the events themselves a shadow of almost supernatural horror.
Schalken had one evening remained in the master's studio considerablylonger than his more volatile companions, who had gladly availedthemselves of the excuse which the dusk of evening afforded, to withdrawfrom their several tasks, in order to finish a day of labour in thejollity and conviviality of the tavern.
But Schalken worked for improvement, or rather for love. Besides, hewas now engaged merely in sketching a design, an operation which,unlike that of colouring, might be continued as long as there was lightsufficient to distinguish between canvas and charcoal. He had not then,nor, indeed, until long after, discovered the peculiar powers ofhis pencil, and he was engaged in composing a group of extremelyroguish-looking and grotesque imps and demons, who were inflictingvarious ingenious torments upon a perspiring and pot-bellied St.Anthony, who reclined in the midst of them, apparently in the last stageof drunkenness.
The young artist, however, though incapable of executing, or even ofappreciating, anything of true sublimity, had nevertheless discernmen
tenough to prevent his being by any means satisfied with his work; andmany were the patient erasures and corrections which the limbs andfeatures of saint and devil underwent, yet all without producing intheir new arrangement anything of improvement or increased effect.
The large, old-fashioned room was silent, and, with the exception ofhimself, quite deserted by its usual inmates. An hour had passed--nearlytwo--without any improved result. Daylight had already declined, andtwilight was fast giving way to the darkness of night. The patienceof the young man was exhausted, and he stood before his unfinishedproduction, absorbed in no very pleasing ruminations, one hand buriedin the folds of his long dark hair, and the other holding the piece ofcharcoal which had so ill executed its office, and which he now rubbed,without much regard to the sable streaks which it produced, withirritable pressure upon his ample Flemish inexpressibles.
'Pshaw!' said the young man aloud, 'would that picture, devils, saint,and all, were where they should be--in hell!'
A short, sudden laugh, uttered startlingly close to his ear, instantlyresponded to the ejaculation.
The artist turned sharply round, and now for the first time became awarethat his labours had been overlooked by a stranger.
Within about a yard and a half, and rather behind him, there stood whatwas, or appeared to be, the figure of an elderly man: he wore a shortcloak, and broad-brimmed hat with a conical crown, and in his hand,which was protected with a heavy, gauntlet-shaped glove, he carried along ebony walking-stick, surmounted with what appeared, as it glittereddimly in the twilight, to be a massive head of gold, and upon hisbreast, through the folds of the cloak, there shone what appeared to bethe links of a rich chain of the same metal.
The room was so obscure that nothing further of the appearance of thefigure could be ascertained, and the face was altogether overshadowedby the heavy flap of the beaver which overhung it, so that not a featurecould be discerned. A quantity of dark hair escaped from beneath thissombre hat, a circumstance which, connected with the firm, uprightcarriage of the intruder, proved that his years could not yet exceedthreescore or thereabouts.
There was an air of gravity and importance about the garb of thisperson, and something indescribably odd, I might say awful, in theperfect, stone-like movelessness of the figure, that effectually checkedthe testy comment which had at once risen to the lips of the irritatedartist. He therefore, as soon as he had sufficiently recovered thesurprise, asked the stranger, civilly, to be seated, and desired to knowif he had any message to leave for his master.
'Tell Gerard Douw,' said the unknown, without altering his attitude inthe smallest degree, 'that Mynher Vanderhauseny of Rotterdam, desiresto speak with him to-morrow evening at this hour, and, if he please, inthis room, upon matters of weight--that is all. Good-night.'
The stranger, having finished this message, turned abruptly, and, with aquick but silent step, quitted the room, before Schalken had time to saya word in reply.
The young man felt a curiosity to see in what direction the burgher ofRotterdam would turn on quitting the studio, and for that purpose hewent directly to the window which commanded the door.
A lobby of considerable extent intervened between the inner door of thepainter's room and the street entrance, so that Schalken occupied thepost of observation before the old man could possibly have reached thestreet.
He watched in vain, however. There was no other mode of exit.
Had the old man vanished, or was he lurking about the recesses of thelobby for some bad purpose? This last suggestion filled the mind ofSchalken with a vague horror, which was so unaccountably intense as tomake him alike afraid to remain in the room alone and reluctant to passthrough the lobby.
However, with an effort which appeared very disproportioned to theoccasion, he summoned resolution to leave the room, and, havingdouble-locked the door and thrust the key in his pocket, without lookingto the right or left, he traversed the passage which had so recently,perhaps still, contained the person of his mysterious visitant, scarcelyventuring to breathe till he had arrived in the open street.
'Mynher Vanderhausen,' said Gerard Douw within himself, as the appointedhour approached, 'Mynher Vanderhausen of Rotterdam! I never heard of theman till yesterday. What can he want of me? A portrait, perhaps, to bepainted; or a younger son or a poor relation to be apprenticed; or acollection to be valued; or--pshaw I there's no one in Rotterdam toleave me a legacy. Well, whatever the business may be, we shall soonknow it all.'
It was now the close of day, and every easel, except that of Schalken,was deserted. Gerard Douw was pacing the apartment with the restlessstep of impatient expectation, every now and then humming a passage froma piece of music which he was himself composing; for, though no greatproficient, he admired the art; sometimes pausing to glance over thework of one of his absent pupils, but more frequently placing himself atthe window, from whence he might observe the passengers who threaded theobscure by-street in which his studio was placed.
'Said you not, Godfrey,' exclaimed Douw, after a long and fruitless gazefrom his post of observation, and turning to Schalken--'said you not thehour of appointment was at about seven by the clock of the Stadhouse?'
'It had just told seven when I first saw him, sir,' answered thestudent.
'The hour is close at hand, then,' said the master, consultinga horologe as large and as round as a full-grown orange. 'MynherVanderhausen, from Rotterdam--is it not so?'
'Such was the name.'
'And an elderly man, richly clad?' continued Douw.
'As well as I might see,' replied his pupil; 'he could not be young, noryet very old neither, and his dress was rich and grave, as might becomea citizen of wealth and consideration.'
At this moment the sonorous boom of the Stadhouse clock told, strokeafter stroke, the hour of seven; the eyes of both master and studentwere directed to the door; and it was not until the last peal of the oldbell had ceased to vibrate, that Douw exclaimed:
'So, so; we shall have his worship presently--that is, if he means tokeep his hour; if not, thou mayst wait for him, Godfrey, if you courtthe acquaintance of a capricious burgomaster. As for me, I think ourold Leyden contains a sufficiency of such commodities, without animportation from Rotterdam.'
Schalken laughed, as in duty bound; and after a pause of some minutes,Douw suddenly exclaimed:
'What if it should all prove a jest, a piece of mummery got up byVankarp, or some such worthy! I wish you had run all risks, andcudgelled the old burgomaster, stadholder, or whatever else he maybe, soundly. I would wager a dozen of Rhenish, his worship would havepleaded old acquaintance before the third application.'
'Here he comes, sir,' said Schalken, in a low admonitory tone; andinstantly, upon turning towards the door, Gerard Douw observed the samefigure which had, on the day before, so unexpectedly greeted the visionof his pupil Schalken.
There was something in the air and mien of the figure which at oncesatisfied the painter that there was no mummery in the case, and thathe really stood in the presence of a man of worship; and so, withouthesitation, 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 thecourtesy, but remained standing.
'I have the honour to see Mynher Vanderhausen, of Rotterdam?' saidGerard Douw.
'The same,' was the laconic reply of his visitant.
'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 tovalue its contents, and let him return hither with a certificate of thevaluation.'
At the same time he placed a small case, about nine inches square, inthe hands of Gerard Douw, who was as much amazed at its weight as at thestrange abruptn
ess with which it was handed to him.
In accordance with the wishes of the stranger, he delivered it into thehands of Schalken, and repeating HIS directions, despatched him upon themission.
Schalken disposed his precious charge securely beneath the folds of hiscloak, and rapidly traversing two or three narrow streets, he stopped ata corner house, the lower part of which was then occupied by the shop ofa Jewish goldsmith.
Schalken entered the shop, and calling the little Hebrew into theobscurity of its back recesses, he proceeded to lay before himVanderhausen's packet.
On being examined by the light of a lamp, it appeared entirely casedwith lead, the outer surface of which was much scraped and soiled, andnearly white with age. This was with difficulty partially removed, anddisclosed beneath a box of some dark and singularly hard wood; this,too, was forced, and after the removal of two or three folds of linen,its contents proved to be a mass of golden ingots, close packed, and, asthe Jew declared, of the most perfect quality.
Every ingot underwent the scrutiny of the little Jew, who seemed tofeel an epicurean delight in touching and testing these morsels of theglorious metal; and each one of them was replaced in the box with theexclamation:
'Mein Gott, how very perfect! not one grain of alloy--beautiful,beautiful!'
The task was at length finished, and the Jew certified under his handthe value of the ingots submitted to his examination to amount to manythousand rix-dollars.
With the desired document in his bosom, and the rich box of goldcarefully pressed under his arm, and concealed by his cloak, he retracedhis way, and entering the studio, found his master and the stranger inclose conference.
Schalken had no sooner left the room, in order to execute the commissionhe had taken in charge, than Vanderhausen addressed Gerard Douw in thefollowing terms:
'I may not tarry with you to-night more than a few minutes, and so Ishall briefly tell you the matter upon which I come. You visited thetown of Rotterdam some four months ago, and then I saw in the church ofSt. Lawrence your niece, Rose Velderkaust. I desire to marry her, and ifI satisfy you as to the fact that I am very wealthy--more wealthy thanany husband you could dream of for her--I expect that you will forwardmy views to the utmost of your authority. If you approve my proposal,you must close with it at once, for I cannot command time enough to waitfor calculations and delays.'
Gerard Douw was, perhaps, as much astonished as anyone could be by thevery unexpected nature of Mynher Vanderhausen's communication; but hedid not give vent to any unseemly expression of surprise, for besidesthe motives supplied by prudence and politeness, the painter experienceda kind of chill and oppressive sensation, something like that whichis supposed to affect a man who is placed unconsciously in immediatecontact with something to which he has a natural antipathy--an undefinedhorror and dread while standing in the presence of the eccentricstranger, which made him very unwilling to say anything which mightreasonably prove offensive.
'I have no doubt,' said Gerard, after two or three prefatory hems, 'thatthe connection which you propose would prove alike advantageous andhonourable to my niece; but you must be aware that she has a will of herown, and may not acquiesce in what WE may design for her advantage.'
'Do not seek to deceive me, Sir Painter,' said Vanderhausen; 'you areher 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 GerardDouw, he scarce knew why, inwardly prayed for the speedy return ofSchalken.
'I desire,' said the mysterious gentleman, 'to place in your hands atonce an evidence of my wealth, and a security for my liberal dealingwith your niece. The lad will return in a minute or two with a sum invalue five times the fortune which she has a right to expect from ahusband. This shall lie in your hands, together with her dowry, and youmay apply the united sum as suits her interest best; it shall be allexclusively hers while she lives. Is that liberal?'
Douw assented, and inwardly thought that fortune had beenextraordinarily kind to his niece. The stranger, he thought, must beboth 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 was almost without dowry;indeed, altogether so, excepting so far as the deficiency had beensupplied by the generosity of her uncle. Neither had she any right toraise any scruples against the match on the score of birth, for herown origin was by no means elevated; and as to other objections, Gerardresolved, and, indeed, by the usages of the time was warranted inresolving, not to listen to them for a moment.
'Sir,' said he, addressing the stranger, 'your offer is most liberal,and whatever hesitation I may feel in closing with it immediately,arises solely from my not having the honour of knowing anything of yourfamily or station. Upon these points you can, of course, satisfy mewithout difficulty?'
'As to my respectability,' said the stranger, drily, 'you must take thatfor granted at present; pester me with no inquiries; you can discovernothing more about me than I choose to make known. You shall havesufficient security for my respectability--my word, if you arehonourable: if you are sordid, my gold.'
'A testy old gentleman,' thought Douw; 'he must have his own way. But,all things considered, I am justified in giving my niece to him. Wereshe my own daughter, I would do the like by her. I will not pledgemyself unnecessarily, however.'
'You will not pledge yourself unnecessarily,' said Vanderhausen,strangely uttering the very words which had just floated throughthe mind of his companion; 'but you will do so if it IS necessary, Ipresume; and I will show you that I consider it indispensable. If thegold I mean to leave in your hands satisfy you, and if you desire thatmy proposal shall not be at once withdrawn, you must, before I leavethis room, write your name to this engagement.'
Having thus spoken, he placed a paper in the hands of Gerard, thecontents of which expressed an engagement entered into by GerardDouw, to give to Wilken Vanderhausen, of Rotterdam, in marriage, RoseVelderkaust, and so forth, within one week of the date hereof.
While the painter was employed in reading this covenant, Schalken, aswe have stated, entered the studio, and having delivered the box andthe valuation of the Jew into the hands of the stranger, he was aboutto retire, when Vanderhausen called to him to wait; and, presenting thecase and the certificate to Gerard Douw, he waited in silence until hehad satisfied himself by an inspection of both as to the value of thepledge left in his hands. At length he said:
'Are you content?'
The painter said he would fain have an other day to consider.
'Not an hour,' said the suitor, coolly.
'Well, then,' said Douw, 'I am content; it is a bargain.'
'Then sign at once,' said Vanderhausen; 'I am weary.'
At the same time he produced a small case of writing materials, andGerard signed the important document.
'Let this youth witness the covenant,' said the old man; and GodfreySchalken unconsciously signed the instrument which bestowed upon anotherthat hand which he had so long regarded as the object and reward of allhis labours.
The compact being thus completed, the strange visitor folded up thepaper, and stowed it safely in an inner pocket.
'I will visit you to-morrow night, at nine of the clock, at your house,Gerard Douw, and will see the subject of our contract. Farewell.' And sosaying, Wilken Vanderhausen moved stiffly, but rapidly out of the room.
Schalken, eager to resolve his doubts, had placed himself by the windowin order to watch the street entrance; but the experiment served onlyto support his suspicions, for the old man did not issue from thedoor. This was very strange, very odd, very fearful. He and his masterreturned together, and talked but little on the way, for each had hisown subjects of reflection, of anxiety, and of hope.
Schalken, however, did not know the ruin which threatened his cherishedschemes.
Gerard Douw knew nothing of the attachment which had sprung up betweenhis pupil and his niece
; and even if he had, it is doubtful whetherhe would have regarded its existence as any serious obstruction to thewishes of Mynher Vanderhausen.
Marriages were then and there matters of traffic and calculation; andit would have appeared as absurd in the eyes of the guardian to make amutual attachment an essential element in a contract of marriage, asit would have been to draw up his bonds and receipts in the language ofchivalrous romance.
The painter, however, did not communicate to his niece the importantstep which he had taken in her behalf, and his resolution arose not fromany anticipation of opposition on her part, but solely from a ludicrousconsciousness that if his ward were, as she very naturally might do, toask him to describe the appearance of the bridegroom whom he destinedfor her, he would be forced to confess that he had not seen his face,and, if called upon, would find it impossible to identify him.
Upon the next day, Gerard Douw having dined, called his niece to him,and having scanned her person with an air of satisfaction, he tookher hand, and looking upon her pretty, innocent face with a smile ofkindness, he said:
'Rose, my girl, that face of yours will make your fortune.' Rose blushedand smiled. 'Such faces and such tempers seldom go together, and, whenthey do, the compound is a love-potion which few heads or hearts canresist. Trust me, thou wilt soon be a bride, girl. But this is trifling,and I am pressed for time, so make ready the large room by eight o'clockto-night, and give directions for supper at nine. I expect a friendto-night; and observe me, child, do thou trick thyself out handsomely. Iwould not have him think us poor or sluttish.'
With these words he left the chamber, and took his way to the room towhich we have already had occasion to introduce our readers--that inwhich his pupils worked.
When the evening closed in, Gerard called Schalken, who was about totake his departure to his obscure and comfortless lodgings, and askedhim to come home and sup with Rose and Vanderhausen.
The invitation was of course accepted, and Gerard Douw and his pupilsoon found themselves in the handsome and somewhat antique-looking roomwhich had been prepared for the reception of the stranger.
A cheerful wood-fire blazed in the capacious hearth; a little atone side an oldfashioned table, with richly-carved legs, wasplaced--destined, no doubt, to receive the supper, for whichpreparations were going forward; and ranged with exact regularity,stood the tall-backed chairs, whose ungracefulness was more thancounterbalanced by their comfort.
The little party, consisting of Rose, her uncle, and the artist, awaitedthe 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 emphatictread upon the staircase; the steps moved heavily across the lobby,the door of the room in which the party which we have described wereassembled slowly opened, and there entered a figure which startled,almost appalled, the phlegmatic Dutchmen, and nearly made Rose screamwith affright; it was the form, and arrayed in the garb, of MynherVanderhausen; the air, the gait, the height was the same, but thefeatures had never been seen by any of the party before.
The stranger stopped at the door of the room, and displayed his form andface completely. He wore a dark-coloured cloth cloak, which was shortand full, not falling quite to the knees; his legs were cased in darkpurple silk stockings, and his shoes were adorned with roses of thesame colour. The opening of the cloak in front showed the under-suit toconsist of some very dark, perhaps sable material, and his hands wereenclosed in a pair of heavy leather gloves which ran up considerablyabove the wrist, in the manner of a gauntlet. In one hand he carriedhis walking-stick and his hat, which he had removed, and the otherhung heavily by his side. A quantity of grizzled hair descended in longtresses from his head, and its folds rested upon the plaits of a stiffruff, which effectually concealed his neck.
So far all was well; but the face!--all the flesh of the face wascoloured with the bluish leaden hue which is sometimes produced by theoperation of metallic medicines administered in excessive quantities;the eyes were enormous, and the white appeared both above and below theiris, which gave to them an expression of insanity, which was heightenedby their glassy fixedness; the nose was well enough, but the mouthwas writhed considerably to one side, where it opened in order to giveegress to two long, discoloured fangs, which projected from the upperjaw, far below the lower lip; the hue of the lips themselves bore theusual relation to that of the face, and was consequently nearly black.The character of the face was malignant, even satanic, to the lastdegree; and, indeed, such a combination of horror could hardly beaccounted for, except by supposing the corpse of some atrociousmalefactor, which had long hung blackening upon the gibbet, to have atlength become the habitation of a demon--the frightful sport of Satanicpossession.
It was remarkable that the worshipful stranger suffered as little aspossible of his flesh to appear, and that during his visit he did notonce remove his gloves.
Having stood for some moments at the door, Gerard Douw at lengthfound breath and collectedness to bid him welcome, and, with a muteinclination of the head, the stranger stepped forward into the room.
There was something indescribably odd, even horrible, about all hismotions, something undefinable, that was unnatural, unhuman--it wasas if the limbs were guided and directed by a spirit unused to themanagement of bodily machinery.
The stranger said hardly anything during his visit, which did not exceedhalf an hour; and the host himself could scarcely muster courage enoughto utter the few necessary salutations and courtesies: and, indeed, suchwas the nervous terror which the presence of Vanderhausen inspired, thatvery little would have made all his entertainers fly bellowing from theroom.
They had not so far lost all self-possession, however, as to fail toobserve two strange peculiarities of their visitor.
During his stay he did not once suffer his eyelids to close, nor evento move in the slightest degree; and further, there was a death-likestillness in his whole person, owing to the total absence of the heavingmotion 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 andobserved. Vanderhausen at length relieved the painter of Leyden of hisinauspicious presence; and with no small gratification the little partyheard the street-door close after him.
'Dear uncle,' said Rose, 'what a frightful man! I would not see himagain for the wealth of the States!'
'Tush, foolish girl!' said Douw, whose sensations were anything butcomfortable. 'A man may be as ugly as the devil, and yet if his heartand actions are good, he is worth all the pretty-faced, perfumed puppiesthat walk the Mall. Rose, my girl, it is very true he has not thy prettyface, but I know him to be wealthy and liberal; and were he ten timesmore ugly----'
'Which is inconceivable,' observed Rose.
'These two virtues would be sufficient,' continued her uncle, 'tocounterbalance all his deformity; and if not of power sufficientactually to alter the shape of the features, at least of efficacy enoughto prevent one thinking them amiss.'
'Do you know, uncle,' said Rose, 'when I saw him standing at the door,I could not get it out of my head that I saw the old, painted, woodenfigure that used to frighten me so much in the church of St. Laurence ofRotterdam.'
Gerard laughed, though he could not help inwardly acknowledging thejustness of the comparison. He was resolved, however, as far as hecould, to check his niece's inclination to ridicule the ugliness of herintended bridegroom, although he was not a little pleased to observethat she appeared totally exempt from that mysterious dread of thestranger which, he could not disguise it from himself, considerablyaffected him, as also his pupil Godfrey Schalken.
Early on the next day there arrived, from various quarters of the town,rich presents of silks, velvets, jewellery, and so forth, for Rose; andalso a packet directed to Gerard Douw, which, on being opened, was foundto contain a contract of marriage, formally drawn up,
between WilkenVanderhausen of the Boom-quay, in Rotterdam, and Rose Velderkaust ofLeyden, niece to Gerard Douw, master in the art of painting, also ofthe same city; and containing engagements on the part of Vanderhausento make settlements upon his bride, far more splendid than he had beforeled her guardian to believe likely, and which were to be secured to heruse in the most unexceptionable manner possible--the money being placedin the hands of Gerard Douw himself.
I have no sentimental scenes to describe, no cruelty of guardians, ormagnanimity of wards, or agonies of lovers. The record I have to make isone of sordidness, levity, and interest. In less than a week after thefirst interview which we have just described, the contract of marriagewas fulfilled, and Schalken saw the prize which he would have riskedanything to secure, carried off triumphantly by his formidable rival.
For two or three days he absented himself from the school; he thenreturned and worked, if with less cheerfulness, with far more doggedresolution than before; the dream of love had given place to that ofambition.
Months passed away, and, contrary to his expectation, and, indeed, tothe direct promise of the parties, Gerard Douw heard nothing of hisniece, or her worshipful spouse. The interest of the money, which wasto have been demanded in quarterly sums, lay unclaimed in his hands. Hebegan to grow extremely uneasy.
Mynher Vanderhausen's direction in Rotterdam he was fully possessedof. After some irresolution he finally determined to journey thither--atrifling undertaking, and easily accomplished--and thus to satisfyhimself of the safety and comfort of his ward, for whom he entertainedan honest and strong affection.
His search was in vain, however. No one in Rotterdam had ever heard ofMynher Vanderhausen.
Gerard Douw left not a house in the Boom-quay untried; but all in vain.No one could give him any information whatever touching the object ofhis inquiry; and he was obliged to return to Leyden, nothing wiser thanwhen he had left it.
On his arrival he hastened to the establishment from which Vanderhausenhad hired the lumbering though, considering the times, most luxuriousvehicle which the bridal party had employed to convey them to Rotterdam.From the driver of this machine he learned, that having proceeded byslow stages, they had late in the evening approached Rotterdam; but thatbefore they entered the city, and while yet nearly a mile from it, asmall party of men, soberly clad, and after the old fashion, with peakedbeards and moustaches, standing in the centre of the road, obstructedthe further progress of the carriage. The driver reined in his horses,much fearing, from the obscurity of the hour, and the loneliness of theroad, that some mischief was intended.
His fears were, however, somewhat allayed by his observing that thesestrange men carried a large litter, of an antique shape, and which theyimmediately set down upon the pavement, whereupon the bridegroom, havingopened the coach-door from within, descended, and having assisted hisbride to do likewise, led her, weeping bitterly and wringing her hands,to the litter, which they both entered. It was then raised by the menwho surrounded it, and speedily carried towards the city, and before ithad proceeded many yards the darkness concealed it from the view of theDutch charioteer.
In the inside of the vehicle he found a purse, whose contents more thanthrice paid the hire of the carriage and man. He saw and could tellnothing more of Mynher Vanderhausen and his beautiful lady. This mysterywas a source of deep anxiety and almost of grief to Gerard Douw.
There was evidently fraud in the dealing of Vanderhausen with him,though for what purpose committed he could not imagine. He greatlydoubted how far it was possible for a man possessing in his countenanceso strong an evidence of the presence of the most demoniac feelings, tobe in reality anything but a villain; and every day that passed withouthis hearing from or of his niece, instead of inducing him to forget hisfears, on the contrary tended more and more to exasperate them.
The loss of his niece's cheerful society tended also to depress hisspirits; and in order to dispel this despondency, which often crept uponhis mind after his daily employment was over, he was wont frequentlyto prevail upon Schalken to accompany him home, and by his presence todispel, in some degree, the gloom of his otherwise solitary supper.
One evening, the painter and his pupil were sitting by the fire, havingaccomplished a comfortable supper, and had yielded to that silentpensiveness sometimes induced by the process of digestion, when theirreflections were disturbed by a loud sound at the street-door, as ifoccasioned by some person rushing forcibly and repeatedly against it.A domestic had run without delay to ascertain the cause of thedisturbance, and they heard him twice or thrice interrogate theapplicant for admission, but without producing an answer or anycessation of the sounds.
They heard him then open the hall-door, and immediately there followed alight and rapid tread upon the staircase. Schalken laid his hand on hissword, and advanced towards the door. It opened before he reached it,and Rose rushed into the room. She looked wild and haggard, and palewith exhaustion and terror; but her dress surprised them as much evenas her unexpected appearance. It consisted of a kind of white woollenwrapper, made close about the neck, and descending to the very ground.It was much deranged and travel-soiled. The poor creature had hardlyentered the chamber when she fell senseless on the floor. With somedifficulty they succeeded in reviving her, and on recovering her sensesshe instantly exclaimed, in a tone of eager, terrified impatience:
'Wine, wine, quickly, or I'm lost!'
Much alarmed at the strange agitation in which the call was made, theyat once administered to her wishes, and she drank some wine with a hasteand eagerness which surprised them. She had hardly swallowed it, whenshe exclaimed, with the same urgency:
'Food, food, at once, or I perish!'
A considerable fragment of a roast joint was upon the table, andSchalken immediately proceeded to cut some, but he was anticipated; forno sooner had she become aware of its presence than she darted at itwith the rapacity of a vulture, and, seizing it in her hands she toreoff the flesh with her teeth and swallowed it.
When the paroxysm of hunger had been a little appeased, she appearedsuddenly to become aware how strange her conduct had been, or it mayhave been that other more agitating thoughts recurred to her mind, forshe began to weep bitterly and to wring her hands.
'Oh! send for a minister of God,' said she; 'I am not safe till hecomes; send for him speedily.'
Gerard Douw despatched a messenger instantly, and prevailed on his nieceto allow him to surrender his bedchamber to her use; he also persuadedher to retire to it at once and to rest; her consent was extorted uponthe condition that they would not leave her for a moment.
'Oh that the holy man were here!' she said; 'he can deliver me. The deadand the living can never be one--God has forbidden it.'
With these mysterious words she surrendered herself to their guidance,and they proceeded to the chamber which Gerard Douw had assigned to heruse.
'Do not--do not leave me for a moment,' said she. 'I am lost for ever ifyou do.'
Gerard Douw's chamber was approached through a spacious apartment, whichthey were now about to enter. Gerard Douw and Schalken each carrieda was candle, so that a sufficient degree of light was cast upon allsurrounding objects. They were now entering the large chamber, which,as I have said, communicated with Douw's apartment, when Rose suddenlystopped, and, in a whisper which seemed to thrill with horror, she said:
'O God! he is here--he is here! See, see--there he goes!'
She pointed towards the door of the inner room, and Schalken thought hesaw a shadowy and ill-defined form gliding into that apartment. Hedrew his sword, and raising the candle so as to throw its light withincreased distinctness upon the objects in the room, he entered thechamber into which the shadow had glided. No figure was there--nothingbut the furniture which belonged to the room, and yet he could not bedeceived as to the fact that something had moved before them into thechamber.
A sickening dread came upon him, and the cold perspiration broke out inheavy drops upon his forehead; nor was he more compose
d when he heardthe increased urgency, the agony of entreaty, with which Rose imploredthem not to leave her for a moment.
'I saw him,' said she. 'He's here! I cannot be deceived--I know him.He's by me--he's with me--he's in the room. Then, for God's sake, as youwould save, do not stir from beside me!'
They at length prevailed upon her to lie down upon the bed, where shecontinued to urge them to stay by her. She frequently uttered incoherentsentences, repeating again and again, 'The dead and the living cannot beone--God has forbidden it!' and then again, 'Rest to the wakeful--sleepto the sleep-walkers.'
These and such mysterious and broken sentences she continued to utteruntil the clergyman arrived.
Gerard Douw began to fear, naturally enough, that the poor girl, owingto terror or ill-treatment, had become deranged; and he half suspected,by the suddenness of her appearance, and the unseasonableness of thehour, and, above all, from the wildness and terror of her manner, thatshe had made her escape from some place of confinement for lunatics, andwas in immediate fear of pursuit. He resolved to summon medical adviceas soon as the mind of his niece had been in some measure set at restby the offices of the clergyman whose attendance she had so earnestlydesired; and until this object had been attained, he did not venture toput any questions to her, which might possibly, by reviving painful orhorrible recollections, increase her agitation.
The clergyman soon arrived--a man of ascetic countenance and venerableage--one whom Gerard Douw respected much, forasmuch as he was a veteranpolemic, though one, perhaps, more dreaded as a combatant than belovedas a Christian--of pure morality, subtle brain, and frozen heart. Heentered the chamber which communicated with that in which Rose reclined,and immediately on his arrival she requested him to pray for her, asfor one who lay in the hands of Satan, and who could hope fordeliverance--only from heaven.
That our readers may distinctly understand all the circumstances of theevent which we are about imperfectly to describe, it is necessary tostate the relative position of the parties who were engaged in it. Theold clergyman and Schalken were in the anteroom of which we have alreadyspoken; Rose lay in the inner chamber, the door of which was open; andby the side of the bed, at her urgent desire, stood her guardian; acandle burned in the bedchamber, and three were lighted in the outerapartment.
The old man now cleared his voice, as if about to commence; but beforehe had time to begin, a sudden gust of air blew out the candle whichserved to illuminate the room in which the poor girl lay, and she, withhurried alarm, exclaimed:
'Godfrey, bring in another candle; the darkness is unsafe.'
Gerard Douw, forgetting for the moment her repeated injunctions in theimmediate impulse, stepped from the bedchamber into the other, in orderto supply what she desired.
'O God I do not go, dear uncle!' shrieked the unhappy girl; and at thesame time she sprang from the bed and darted after him, in order, by hergrasp, to detain him.
But the warning came too late, for scarcely had he passed the threshold,and hardly had his niece had time to utter the startling exclamation,when the door which divided the two rooms closed violently after him, asif swung to by a strong blast of wind.
Schalken and he both rushed to the door, but their united and desperateefforts could not avail so much as to shake it.
Shriek after shriek burst from the inner chamber, with all the piercingloudness of despairing terror. Schalken and Douw applied every energyand strained every nerve to force open the door; but all in vain.
There was no sound of struggling from within, but the screams seemed toincrease in loudness, and at the same time they heard the bolts of thelatticed window withdrawn, and the window itself grated upon the sill asif thrown open.
One LAST shriek, so long and piercing and agonised as to be scarcelyhuman, swelled from the room, and suddenly there followed a death-likesilence.
A light step was heard crossing the floor, as if from the bed to thewindow; and almost at the same instant the door gave way, and,yielding to the pressure of the external applicants, they were nearlyprecipitated into the room. It was empty. The window was open, andSchalken sprang to a chair and gazed out upon the street and canalbelow. He saw no form, but he beheld, or thought he beheld, the watersof the broad canal beneath settling ring after ring in heavy circularripples, as if a moment before disturbed by the immersion of some largeand heavy mass.
No trace of Rose was ever after discovered, nor was anything certainrespecting her mysterious wooer detected or even suspected; no cluewhereby to trace the intricacies of the labyrinth and to arrive at adistinct conclusion was to be found. But an incident occurred, which,though it will not be received by our rational readers as at allapproaching to evidence upon the matter, nevertheless produced a strongand a lasting impression upon the mind of Schalken.
Many years after the events which we have detailed, Schalken, thenremotely situated, received an intimation of his father's death, and ofhis intended burial upon a fixed day in the church of Rotterdam. It wasnecessary that a very considerable journey should be performed by thefuneral procession, which, as it will readily be believed, was not verynumerously attended. Schalken with difficulty arrived in Rotterdamlate in the day upon which the funeral was appointed to take place. Theprocession had not then arrived. Evening closed in, and still it did notappear.
Schalken strolled down to the church--he found it open--notice of thearrival of the funeral had been given, and the vault in which the bodywas to be laid had been opened. The official who corresponds to oursexton, on seeing a well-dressed gentleman, whose object was to attendthe expected funeral, pacing the aisle of the church, hospitably invitedhim to share with him the comforts of a blazing wood fire, which, aswas his custom in winter time upon such occasions, he had kindled on thehearth of a chamber which communicated, by a flight of steps, with thevault below.
In this chamber Schalken and his entertainer seated themselves, andthe sexton, after some fruitless attempts to engage his guest inconversation, was obliged to apply himself to his tobacco-pipe and canto solace his solitude.
In spite of his grief and cares, the fatigues of a rapid journey ofnearly forty hours gradually overcame the mind and body of GodfreySchalken, and he sank into a deep sleep, from which he was awakened bysome one shaking him gently by the shoulder. He first thought that theold sexton had called him, but HE was no longer in the room.
He roused himself, and as soon as he could clearly see what was aroundhim, he perceived a female form, clothed in a kind of light robe ofmuslin, part of which was so disposed as to act as a veil, and inher hand she carried a lamp. She was moving rather away from him, andtowards the flight of steps which conducted towards the vaults.
Schalken felt a vague alarm at the sight of this figure, and at thesame time an irresistible impulse to follow its guidance. He followedit towards the vaults, but when it reached the head of the stairs, hepaused; the figure paused also, and, turning gently round, displayed,by the light of the lamp it carried, the face and features of his firstlove, Rose Velderkaust. There was nothing horrible, or even sad, in thecountenance. On the contrary, it wore the same arch smile which used toenchant the artist long before in his happy days.
A feeling of awe and of interest, too intense to be resisted, promptedhim to follow the spectre, if spectre it were. She descended thestairs--he followed; and, turning to the left, through a narrow passage,she led him, to his infinite surprise, into what appeared to be anoldfashioned Dutch apartment, such as the pictures of Gerard Douw haveserved to immortalise.
Abundance of costly antique furniture was disposed about the room, andin one corner stood a four-post bed, with heavy black-cloth curtainsaround it; the figure frequently turned towards him with the same archsmile; and when she came to the side of the bed, she drew the curtains,and by the light of the lamp which she held towards its contents, shedisclosed to the horror-stricken painter, sitting bolt upright in thebed, the livid and demoniac form of Vanderhausen. Schalken had hardlyseen him when he fell senseless upon the floor,
where he lay untildiscovered, on the next morning, by persons employed in closing thepassages into the vaults. He was lying in a cell of considerable size,which had not been disturbed for a long time, and he had fallen besidea large coffin which was supported upon small stone pillars, a securityagainst the attacks of vermin.
To his dying day Schalken was satisfied of the reality of the visionwhich he had witnessed, and he has left behind him a curious evidence ofthe impression which it wrought upon his fancy, in a painting executedshortly after the event we have narrated, and which is valuable asexhibiting not only the peculiarities which have made Schalken'spictures sought after, but even more so as presenting a portrait, asclose and faithful as one taken from memory can be, of his early love,Rose Velderkaust, whose mysterious fate must ever remain matter ofspeculation.
The picture represents a chamber of antique masonry, such as might befound in most old cathedrals, and is lighted faintly by a lamp carriedin the hand of a female figure, such as we have above attempted todescribe; and in the background, and to the left of him who examines thepainting, there stands the form of a man apparently aroused from sleep,and by his attitude, his hand being laid upon his sword, exhibitingconsiderable alarm: this last figure is illuminated only by the expiringglare of a wood or charcoal fire.
The whole production exhibits a beautiful specimen of that artful andsingular distribution of light and shade which has rendered the nameof Schalken immortal among the artists of his country. This tale istraditionary, and the reader will easily perceive, by our studiouslyomitting to heighten many points of the narrative, when a littleadditional colouring might have added effect to the recital, thatwe have desired to lay before him, not a figment of the brain, but acurious tradition connected with, and belonging to, the biography of afamous artist.