This is his portrait:'A face like marble,with a fearful monumental look,and for an old man,singularly vivid,strange eyes,the singularity of which rather grew upon me as I looked;for his eyebrows were still black,though his hair descended from his temples in long locks of the purest silver and fine as silk,nearly to his shoulders.
'He rose,tall and slight,a little stooped,all in black,with an ample black velvet tunic,which was rather a gown than a coat....
'I know I can't convey in words an idea of this apparition,drawn,as it seemed,in black and white,venerable,bloodless,fiery-eyed,with its singular look of power,and an expression so bewildering--was it derision,or anguish,or cruelty,or patience?
'The wild eyes of this strange old man were fixed on me as he rose;an habitual contraction,which in certain lights took the character of a scowl,did not relax as he advanced towards me with a thin-lipped smile.'
Old Dicken and his daughter Beauty,old L'Amour and Dudley Ruthyn,now enter upon the scene,each a fresh shadow to deepen its already sombre hue,while the gloom gathers in spite of the glimpse of sunshine shot through it by the visit to Elverston.Dudley's brutal encounter with Captain Oakley,and vile persecution of poor Maude till his love marriage comes to light,lead us on to the ghastly catastrophe,the hideous conspiracy of Silas and his son against the life of the innocent girl.
It is interesting to know that the germ of Uncle Silas first appeared in the 'Dublin University Magazine'of 1837or 1838,as the short tale,entitled,'A Passage from the Secret History of an Irish Countess,'which is printed in this collection of Stories.It next was published as 'The Murdered Cousin'in a collection of Christmas stories,and finally developed into the three-volume novel we have just noticed.
There are about Le Fanu's narratives touches of nature which reconcile us to their always remarkable and often supernatural incidents.
His characters are well conceived and distinctly drawn,and strong soliloquy and easy dialogue spring unaffectedly from their lips.He is a close observer of Nature,and reproduces her wilder effects of storm and gloom with singular vividness;while he is equally at home in his deions of still life,some of which remind us of the faithfully minute detail of old Dutch pictures.
Mr.Wilkie Collins,amongst our living novelists,best compares with Le Fanu.Both of these writers are remarkable for the ingenious mystery with which they develop their plots,and for the absorbing,if often over-sensational,nature of their incidents;but whilst Mr.Collins excites and fascinates our attention by an intense power of realism which carries us with unreasoning haste from cover to cover of his works,Le Fanu is an idealist,full of high imagination,and an artist who devotes deep attention to the most delicate detail in his portraiture of men and women,and his deions of the outdoor and indoor worlds--a writer,therefore,through whose pages it would be often an indignity to hasten.And this more leisurely,and certainly more classical,conduct of his stories makes us remember them more fully and faithfully than those of the author of the 'Woman in White.'Mr.Collins is generally dramatic,and sometimes stagy,in his effects.
Le Fanu,while less careful to arrange his plots,so as to admit of their being readily adapted for the stage,often surprises us by scenes of so much greater tragic intensity that we cannot but lament that he did not,as Mr.Collins has done,attempt the drama,and so furnish another ground of comparison with his fellow-countryman,Maturin (also,if we mistake not,of French origin),whom,in his writings,Le Fanu far more closely resembles than Mr.Collins,as a master of the darker and stronger emotions of human character.But,to institute a broader ground of comparison between Le Fanu and Mr.Collins,whilst the idiosyncrasies of the former's characters,however immaterial those characters may be,seem always to suggest the minutest detail of his story,the latter would appear to consider plot as the prime,character as a subsidiary element in the art of novel writing.
Those who possessed the rare privilege of Le Fanu's friendship,and only they,can form any idea of the true character of the man;for after the death of his wife,to whom he was most deeply devoted,he quite forsook general society,in which his fine features,distinguished bearing,and charm of conversation marked him out as the beau-ideal of an Irish wit and scholar of the old school.
From this society he vanished so entirely that Dublin,always ready with a nickname,dubbed him 'The Invisible Prince;'and indeed he was for long almost invisible,except to his family and most familiar friends,unless at odd hours of the evening,when he might occasionally be seen stealing,like the ghost of his former self,between his newspaper office and his home in Merrion Square;sometimes,too,he was to be encountered in an old out-of-the-way bookshop poring over some rare black letter Astrology or Demonology.
To one of these old bookshops he was at one time a pretty frequent visitor,and the bookseller relates how he used to come in and ask with his peculiarly pleasant voice and smile,'Any more ghost stories for me,Mr.---?'and how,on a fresh one being handed to him,he would seldom leave the shop until he had looked it through.This taste for the supernatural seems to have grown upon him after his wife's death,and influenced him so deeply that,had he not been possessed of a deal of shrewd common sense,there might have been danger of his embracing some of the visionary doctrines in which he was so learned.But no!even Spiritualism,to which not a few of his brother novelists succumbed,whilst affording congenial material for our artist of the superhuman to work upon,did not escape his severest satire.
