Vathek and Other Stories

by William Beckford

  Summer came, and he was called to attend his father, and a select detachment of the band, on an expedition into the Hungarian territories; but some regular troops being aware of their intentions, lay in ambush for their coming, sallied upon them, and left the old Rouzinski, with thirty of his comrades, dead upon the field. Blunderbussiana escaped, and made the best of his way thro’ forests deemed impenetrable, and mountains, where he subsisted on wild fruit and the milk of goats. When he reached the borders of cultivation, his savage mien and the barbarous roll of his eyes, frighted every villager that beheld him;3 and so strange was his appearance, that some said he could be nothing but the Antichrist, and others believed him to be the Wandering Jew.4 After having experienced numerable hardships, which none but those accustomed from their infancy to fatigues could have sustained, he arrived at Friuli; where he was employed in cutting wood, by a Venetian surgeon, who had retired there to enjoy an estate which had been lately bequeathed him. One day, after he had worked very hard, he seized a cat that was frisking about near him, and, by way of recreation, dissected the animal with such skill, that his master, who happened to pass by, was quite surprized,

  and mentioned this circumstance to several of his friends at dinner, amongst whom the famous Joseph porta1 chanced to be present. This painter, who was a great admirer of anatomy, wished to see the young proficient, and being struck with his uncouth figure, began to sketch out his portrait on some tablets he carried about him. Blunderbussiana was in raptures during the performance, and begging earnestly to examine it more narrowly, snatched the pencil from Porta’s hand, and in a few strokes corrected some faults in the anatomy with such boldness and veracity, as threw the painter into amazement. Happening to want a servant at this time, Porta desired his friend to permit Blunderbussiana’s returning with him to Venice; a request he granted without delay, and the young man joyfully accompanied him. He did not long remain with his master as a servant, being soon considered in the light of a disciple. All possible advantages were procured him, and after a year’s study he gave several pieces to the public, in which the clair obscure2 was finely observed. The scenes of his former life were still fresh in his memory, and his pictures almost always represented vast perspective caverns red with the light of fires, around which banditti were carousing; or else dark valleys between shaggy rocks strewed with the spoils of murder’d travellers.

  His father, leaning on his spear, and giving orders to his warriors, was generally the principal object in these pieces, characterised by a certain horror, which those ignorant of such dreadful scenes fancied imaginary. If he represented waters, they were dark and troubled; if trees, deformed and withered. His skies were lowering, and his clair obscure in that style the Italians call sgraffito (a greyish melancholy tint) which suited the gloominess of his subjects. It might be conjectured from this choice of subjects, that Blunderbussiana was a very dismal personage. On the contrary, he was, as we hinted before, of a social disposition, and much relished by those with whom he spent the hours he dedicated to amusement. His pleasures, to be sure, were singular, and probably will not be styled such by many of our readers. For example; after a chearful repast, which he never failed to enliven by his sallies, he would engage some of his friends to ramble about at midnight, and leading them slily to some burying grounds, entice them, by way of frolick, to steal some of the bodies, which he bore off with the greatest glee; exulting more than if he had carried alive in his arms the fairest ladies in the environs. This diversion proved fatal to him at length; for he caught a violent fever in consequence of a drinking match, which was to precede one of these delicious3 excursions. The disorder, attacking his robust constitution, reduced him in two days to a very critical situation; and, burning with heat, he plunged into a cold bath, out of which he was taken delirious, and being conveyed to his bed, began to rave in a frightful manner. Every minute he seemed to behold the mangled limbs of those he had anatomized, quivering in his apartment. ‘Haste, give me my instruments,’ cried he, ‘that I may spoil the gambols of three cursed legs, that are just stalked into the room, and are going to jump upon me. Help! help! or they will kick me out of bed. There again; only see those ugly heads, that do nothing but roll over me! – Hark! what a lumbering noise they make! now they glide along as smoothly as if on a bowling-green. – Mercy defend me from those gogling eyes! – Open all the windows, set wide the doors, – let those grim cats out that spit fire at me and lash me with their tails. O how their bones rattle! – Help! – Mercy! – O!’ – The third day released him from his torments, and his body, according to his desire, was delivered, with all his anatomical designs, to the college of surgeons. Such was the end of the ingenious Blunderbussiana, whose skeleton the faculty have canonized, and whose paintings, dispersed in most of the Venetian palaces, still terrify the tender-hearted.

  WATERSOUCHY1

  We will now change our scenery from the rocks of Dalmatia to the levels of Holland, and instead of sailing on the canals of Venice saunter a little by those of Amsterdam. It was in the Kalverstraat, opposite to the hotel of Etanshasts, next door to the Blue Lion, that Watersouchy, whose delicate performances are so eagerly sought after by the curious, first drew his breath. The name of Watersouchy had been known in Amsterdam since the first existence of the republic. Two wax-chandlers, and at least twelve other capital dealers in grease, had rendered it famous, and the head of the family can never be forgotten, since he invented that admirable dish from which his descendents derived their appellation. Our artist’s father, from humbly retailing farthing candles,2 rose, by a monopoly on tallow, to great affluence, and had the honour of enlightening half the city. He was a thrifty diligent man, loved a pipe of reflection in the evening, and invented save-alls; but it was for the sole use of his own family. This prudent character endeared him so much to Mynheer Bootersac, a rich vintner, his next door neighbour, that he proposed to him his only daughter in marriage, and from this alliance, which happily took place on the 3d of May, 1640, sprung the hero of these memoirs.

  The birth of young Watersouchy was marked by a decent though jovial meeting of his kindred on both sides. Much wine was drank, and ten candles assigned for home consumption. Such festivity had not been displayed in the family since it first began. Nor were these rejoicings without other foundation, as old Watersouchy, who had hitherto toiled and moiled from morn till eve, resolved, at the birth of his child to leave off business, and enjoy at ease the fortune he had acquired. It will be needless to mention particularly the great care that was taken of the young Jeremy (for so he was baptized). Let it suffice to relate, that two years elapsed before he was weaned – so great was the tenderness of his parents, and such their fears lest a change of diet might endanger his constitution. It was no wonder that this child inspired such affectionate sentiments in his parents, so winning was his appearance. How could they fail to be struck with the prettiest, primmest mouth in the world, a rose-bud of a nose, large rolling eyes, and a complexion soft and mellow like his paternal candles? This sweet baby gave early signs of delight in rich and pleasing objects. The return of his parents from church in their holiday apparel ever attracted his attention and excited a placid smile, and any stranger garnished with lace might place him on his knee with impunity. He seemed to feel peculiar pleasure at seeing people bow to each other, and learnt sooner than any child in the street to handle his knife, to spare his bib and kiss his hand with address. This promising heir of the Watersouchies had just entered into his fifth year, when his father ventured for the first time to take him about to the Bootersacs and his other relations. These good people, enchanted with the neatness of his person and the correctness of his behaviour, never failed to load him with toys, sugar plumbs, and gingerbread; but a spruce set of Æsop’s Fables,1 minutely engraved, and some designs for Brussels point, were the presents in which he chiefly delighted. These delicate drawings drew his whole attention, and they were not long in his hands before he attempted to imitate them, with a perseverance and exactn
ess, surprizing at his years. These infantine performances were carefully framed and glazed, and hung up in Madam Watersouchy’s apartment, where they always produced the highest admiration. Amongst those who were principally struck with their merit was the celebrated Francis Van Cuyck de Mierhop,2 a noble artist from Ghent, who, during his residence at Amsterdam, frequently condescended to ass his evenins at Watersouchv’s.

  Mierhop could boast illustrious descent, to which his fortune was by no means equal, and having a peculiar genius for painting eatables, old women, and other pieces of still life, applied himself to the art, and made a considerable figure. Watersouchy’s table was quite an academy in the branches he wished to cultivate, daily exhibiting the completest old women, the most portly turbots, the plumpest soles, and, in a word, the best conditioned fish imaginable, of every kind. Mierhop availed himself of his friend’s invitations to study legs of mutton, sirloins of beef, and joints of meat in general. It was for Madam Watersouchy he painted the most perfect fillet of veal, that ever made the mouth of man to water, and she prided herself not a little upon the original having appeared at her table.

  The air of Amsterdam agreeing with Mierhop’s constitution and Watersouchy’s table not less with his palate, he was quite inspired during his residence there, and took advantage of these circumstances to immortalize himself, by an immense and most inviting picture, in which he introduced a whole entertainment. No part was neglected. – The vapour smoking over the dishes judiciously concealed the extremities of the repast, and gave the finest play to the imagination. This performance was placed with due solemnity in the Butchers-hall at Ghent, of which respectable corps he had been chosen protector.

  Whilst he remained at Amsterdam, young Watersouchy was continually improving, and arrived to such perfection in copying point lace, that Mierhop entreated his father to cultivate these talents, and to place his son under the patronage of Gerard Dow, 1 ever renowned for the exquisite finish of his pieces. Old Watersouchy stared at the proposal, and solemnly asked his wife, to whose opinion he always paid a deference, whether painting was a genteel profession for their son. Mierhop, who overheard their conversation, smiled disdainfully at the question, and Madam Watersouchy answered, that she believed it was one of your liberal arts. In few words, the father was persuaded, and Gerard Dow, then resident at Leyden, prevailed upon to receive the son as a disciple.

  Our young artist had no sooner set his foot within his master’s apartment, than he found every object in harmony with his own dispositions. The colours finely ground, and ranged in the neatest boxes, the pencils so delicate as to be almost imperceptible, the varnish in elegant phials, the easel just where it ought to be, filled him with agreeable sensations, and exalted ideas of his master’s merit. Gerard Dow on his side was equally pleased, when he saw him moving about with all due circumspection, and noticing his little prettinesses at every step. He therefore began his pupil’s initiation with great alacrity, first teaching him cautiously to open the cabinet door, lest any particles of dust should be dislodged and fix upon his canvas, and advising him never to take up his pencil without sitting motionless a few minutes, till every mote casually floating in the air should be settled. Such instructions were not thrown away upon Watersouchy: he treasured them up, and refined, if possible, upon such refinements.2

  Whilst he was thus learning method and arrangement, the other parts of his education were not neglected. A neighbouring schoolmaster instructed him in the rudiments of Latin, and a barber, who often served as a model to Gerard Dow, when composing his most sublime pieces, taught him the management of the violin. With the happiest dispositions we need not be surprized at the progress he made, nor astonished when we hear that Gerard Dow, after a year’s study, permitted him to finish some parts of his own choicest productions. One of his earliest essays was in a large and capital perspective, in which a christening entertainment was displayed in all its glory. To describe exactly the masterly group of the gossips, the demureness of the maiden aunts, the puling infant in the arms of its nurse, the plaits of its swaddling-cloaths, the gloss of its ribbons, the fringe of the table-cloth, and the effect of light and shade on a salver adorned with custard-cups and jelly-glasses, would require at least fifty pages. In this space, perhaps, those details might be included; but to convey a due idea of that preciseness, that air of decorum, which was spread over the whole picture, surpasses the power of words. The collar of a lap-dog, a velvet bracelet, and the lace round the caps of the gossips, were the parts of this chef d’oeuvre, which Watersouchy had the honour of finishing, and he acquitted himself with a truth and exactness that enraptured his master, and brought him to place unbounded confidence in the hair strokes of his pencil. By degrees he rose to the highest place in the esteem of that incomparable artist, who, after eight years had elapsed, suffered him to group without assistance. An arm chair of the richest velvet, and a Turkey carpet, were the first compositions of which he claimed the exclusive honour. The exquisite drawing of these pieces was not less observable than the softness of their tints and the absolute nature of their colouring. Every man wished to sit down in the one, and every dog to repose on the other.

  Whilst Watersouchy was making daily advances in his profession, his father was attacked by a lethargy, that, insensibly gaining ground, carried him off, and left his son in the undisturbed possession of a considerable sum of money. No sooner was he apprized of this event than he took leave of Gerard Dow, and arrived at his native city time enough to attend the funeral procession, and to partake of the feast which followed it; where his becoming sorrow and proper behaviour fixed him in the esteem of all his relations. This good opinion he took care to maintain, never shewing more attention to one than to another, but as it were portioning out his compliments into equal shares. Having passed the usual time without frequenting the world, and having closed the account of condolence, he began to take pleasure in society, and make himself known. His scrupulous adherence to form and propriety procured him the entré of many considerable houses, and recommended him to the particular notice of some of the principal magistrates of Amsterdam. These grave personages thought he would do honour to their city in foreign parts, and therefore advised his going to Antwerp for the advancement of his reputation.

  Antwerp was at this period the centre of arts and manufactures; its public buildings were numerous and magnificent; its citizens wealthy; strangers from every quarter resorted thither for business, or for pleasure. Rubens1 had introduced a fondness for painting, and had ornamented his cabinet with the most valuable productions of the pencil. This example was followed, and collections began to be formed by the opulent inhabitants. Where then could a painter, blessed with such talents as Watersouchy, expect a more favourable reception? He soon resolved to follow the advice of his respectable friends, and having settled his affairs and passed a month or two in taking leave of his acquaintance with due form, he began his journey. Many recommendatory letters were given him, and particularly one to Monsieur Baise-la-main,1 a banker of the first eminence, and an encourager of the fine arts, who united the greatest wealth with the most exemplary politeness. All the way he amused himself in the trackskuit2 with looking over the stock of compliments he had treasured up from his youth, in order to perfect himself in all the rules of that good breeding, he purposed to display at Antwerp. ‘Consider,’ said he to himself, ‘before whom you are to appear; reflect that you are now almost arrived at the zenith of propriety. Let all your actions be regular as the strokes of your pencil, and let the varnish of your manners shine like that of your paintings. Regulate your conduct by the fair example of those you will shortly behold, and do not the smallest thing but as if Monsieur Baise-la-main were before you.’ Full of these resolutions he drew near to Antwerp. Advancing between spruce gardens and trim avenues he entered the city, not without some presentiment of the fame he was to acquire within its walls. Every mansion with high chequered roofs and mosaic chimnies, every fountain with elaborate dolphins and gothic pinnacl
es, found favour in his eyes. He was pleased with the neat perspectives continually presenting themselves, and augured well from a regularity so consonant to his own ideas. After a few hours repose at an inn, arranging each part of his dress with the utmost precision, he sallied forth in the cool of the evening, (for it was now the midst of summer) to deliver his recommendatory letters. The first person to whose acquaintence he aspired was Monsieur Baise-la-main, who occupied a sumptuous hotel near the cathedral. Directing his steps to that quarter, he passed through several lanes and alleys with slowness and caution, and arrived in a spotless condition at the area of that celebrated edifice, which was enlivened by crouds of well dressed people passing and repassing each other, with many courteous bows and salutations, whilst two sets of chimes in the spire above them filled the air with sober psalmody.

  Watersouchy was charmed when he found himself in this region of smirking faces, and stepping forwards amongst them, enquired for Monsieur Baife-la-main. Every body pointed to a gentleman in a modish perruque, blue coat with gold frogs,3 and black velvet breeches. To this prepossessing personage he advanced with his very best bow, and delivered his letter. No sooner did the gentleman arrange his spectacles, and glance over the first lines of the epistle, then he returned the greeting fourfold. Watersouchy was as prodigal of salutations, and could hardly believe his ears when they were saluted with these flattering expressions. ‘Your arrival, Mr Watersouchy, is an event I shall always have the honour to remember. And, Sir, permit me to assure you, from the bottom of my heart, that nobody can feel more thoroughly the obligations I have to my most estimable friends at Amsterdam, for the opportunity, Sir, they give me, of shewing any little, trifling, miserable attentions in my power, to a disciple of Gerard Dow. Let me intreat you to tarry some time in my poor mansion: Indeed, Sir, you must not refuse me – I beg, my dear and respectable Sir, – I beseech’ – It was impossible to resist such a torrent of civility. Watersouchy prepared to follow the courteous banker, who, taking him by the hand, led him, with every demonstration of kindness, to the door of his hotel.