was now engaged merely in sketching a design, an operation which,
unlike that of colouring, might be continued as long as there was light
sufficient to distinguish between canvas and charcoal. He had not then,
nor, indeed, until long after, discovered the peculiar powers of
his pencil, and he was engaged in composing a group of extremely
roguish-looking and grotesque imps and demons, who were inflicting
various ingenious torments upon a perspiring and pot-bellied St.
Anthony, who reclined in the midst of them, apparently in the last stage
of drunkenness.
The young artist, however, though incapable of executing, or even of
appreciating, anything of true sublimity, had nevertheless discernment
enough to prevent his being by any means satisfied with his work; and
many were the patient erasures and corrections which the limbs and
features of saint and devil underwent, yet all without producing in
their new arrangement anything of improvement or increased effect.
The large, old-fashioned room was silent, and, with the exception of
himself, quite deserted by its usual inmates. An hour had passed--nearly
two--without any improved result. Daylight had already declined, and
twilight was fast giving way to the darkness of night. The patience
of the young man was exhausted, and he stood before his unfinished
production, absorbed in no very pleasing ruminations, one hand buried
in the folds of his long dark hair, and the other holding the piece of
charcoal which had so ill executed its office, and which he now rubbed,
without much regard to the sable streaks which it produced, with
irritable 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, instantly
responded to the ejaculation.
The artist turned sharply round, and now for the first time became aware
that his labours had been overlooked by a stranger.
Within about a yard and a half, and rather behind him, there stood what
was, or appeared to be, the figure of an elderly man: he wore a short
cloak, and broad-brimmed hat with a conical crown, and 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 what appeared to be
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 the face was altogether overshadowed
by the heavy flap of the beaver which overhung it, so that not a feature
could be discerned. A quantity of dark hair escaped from beneath this
sombre hat, a circumstance which, connected with the firm, upright
carriage of the intruder, proved that his years could not yet exceed
threescore or thereabouts.
There was an air of gravity and importance about the garb of this
person, and something indescribably odd, I might say awful, in the
perfect, stone-like movelessness 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 the
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 Mynher Vanderhauseny of Rotterdam, desires
to speak with him to-morrow evening at this hour, and, if he please, in
this room, upon matters of weight--that is all. Good-night.'
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 old man vanished, or was he lurking about the recesses of the
lobby for some bad purpose? This last suggestion filled the mind of
Schalken with a vague horror, 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
double-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.
'Mynher Vanderhausen,' said Gerard Douw within himself, as the appointed
hour approached, 'Mynher 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 younger son or a poor relation to be apprenticed; or a
collection to be valued; or--pshaw I 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 every easel, except that of Schalken,
was deserted. Gerard Douw was pacing the apartment with the restless
step of impatient expectation, every now and then humming a passage from
a piece of music which he was himself composing; for, though no great
proficient, he admired the art; 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 fruitless gaze
from his post of observation, and turning to Schalken--'said you not the
hour of appointment was at 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 a full-grown orange. 'Mynher
Vanderhausen, 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, 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 old
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, thou mayst wait for him, Godfrey, if you court
the acquaintance of a capricious burgomaster. As for me, I think our
old Leyden contains a sufficiency of such commodities, without an
importation 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 by
Vankarp, or some such worthy! I wish you had run all risks, and
cudgelled the old burgomaster, stadholder, or whatever else he may
be, soundly. I would wager a dozen of Rhenish, his worship would have
pleaded old acquaintance before the third application.'
'Here he comes, sir,' said Schalken, in a low admonitory tone; and
instantly, upon turning towards the door, Gerard Douw observed the same
figure which had, on the day before, so unexpectedly greeted the vision
of his pupil Schalken.
There was something in the air and mien of the figure which at once
satisfied the painter that there was no mummery 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 Mynher Vanderhausen, of Rotterdam?' said
Gerard 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 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 directions, 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.
Schalken entered the shop, and calling the little Hebrew into the
obscurity of its back recesses, he proceeded to lay before him
Vanderhausen's packet.
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 was with difficulty partially removed, and
disclosed 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, 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 the box 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 bosom, 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 may not tarry with you to-night more than a few minutes, and so I
shall briefly 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 as to the fact that I am very wealthy--more wealthy than
any husband you could dream of for her--I expect that you will forward
my 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 wait
for calculations and delays.'
Gerard Douw was, perhaps, as much astonished as anyone could be by the
very unexpected nature of Mynher Vanderhausen's communication; but he
did not give vent to any unseemly expression of surprise, for besides
the motives supplied by prudence and politeness, the painter experienced
a kind of chill and oppressive sensation, something like that which
is supposed to affect a man who is placed unconsciously in immediate
contact with something to which he has a natural antipathy--an undefined
horror and dread while standing in the presence of the eccentric
stranger, which made him very unwilling to say anything which might
reasonably prove offensive.
'I have no doubt,' said Gerard, after two or three prefatory hems, 'that
the connection 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 a
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 thought 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 was almost without dowry;
indeed, altogether so, excepting so far as the deficiency had been
supplied by the generosity of her uncle. Neither had she any right to
raise any scruples against the match on the score of birth, for her
own origin was by no means elevated; and as to other objections, Gerard
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 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 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 justified in giving my niece to him. Were
she my own daughter, I would do the like by her. 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 desire that
my proposal shall not 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 Gerard, 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 hereof.
While the painter was employed in reading this covenant, 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 waited in silence until he
had satisfied himself by an inspection of both as to the value of the
pledge 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, and
Gerard signed the important document.
'Let this youth witness the covenant,' said the old man; and Godfrey
Schalken unconsciously signed the instrument which bestowed upon another
that hand which he had so long regarded as the object and reward of all
his labours.
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 of the clock, at your house,
Gerard Douw, and will see the subject of our contract. Farewell.' 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, very odd, very 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 threatened his cherished
schemes.
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 Mynher 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 marriage, as
it would have been to draw up his bonds and receipts in the language of
chivalrous romance.
The painter, however, did not communicate to his niece the important
step which he had taken in her behalf, and his resolution arose not from
any anticipation of opposition on her part, but solely from a ludicrous
consciousness that if his ward were, as she very naturally might do, to
ask him to describe the appearance of the bridegroom whom he destined
for 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 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-potion which few heads or hearts can
resist. 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'clock
to-night, and give directions for supper at nine. I expect a friend
to-night; and observe me, child, do thou trick thyself out handsomely. I
would not have him think us poor or sluttish.'
With these words he left the chamber, and took his way to the room to
which we have already had occasion to introduce our readers--that in
which his pupils worked.
When the evening closed in, Gerard called Schalken, who was about to
take his departure to his 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 somewhat antique-looking room
which had been prepared for the reception of the stranger.
A cheerful wood-fire blazed in the capacious hearth; a little at
one side an oldfashioned table, with richly-carved legs, was
placed--destined, no doubt, to receive the supper, for which
preparations were going forward; and ranged with exact regularity,
stood the tall-backed chairs, whose ungracefulness was more than
counterbalanced 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 which 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 affright; it was the form, and arrayed in the garb, of Mynher
Vanderhausen; the air, the gait, the height was 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 the 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 its folds 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 the
operation of metallic medicines administered in excessive quantities;
the eyes were enormous, and the white appeared both above and below the
iris, which gave to them an expression of insanity, which was heightened
by their glassy fixedness; the nose was well enough, but the mouth
was writhed considerably to one side, where it opened in order to give
egress to two long, discoloured fangs, which projected from the upper
jaw, far below the lower lip; the hue of the lips themselves bore the
usual relation to that of the face, and was consequently nearly black.
The character of the face was malignant, even satanic, to the last
degree; and, indeed, such a combination of horror could hardly be
accounted for, except by supposing the corpse of some atrocious
malefactor, which had long hung blackening upon the gibbet, to have at
length become the habitation of a demon--the frightful sport of Satanic
possession.
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 said hardly anything 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 bellowing 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 he did not once suffer his eyelids to close, nor even
to move in the slightest degree; and further, there was a death-like
stillness in his whole person, owing to the total 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 small gratification the little party
heard the street-door close after him.
'Dear uncle,' said Rose, 'what a frightful man! I would not see him
again for the wealth of the States!'