HENRY WILLIAMS

The first glimpse we get of the n.o.ble woman who is the subject of this sketch gives us the key to her whole character. Her brother, the famous Paul Rembrandt, had come home from school in disgrace, and it is as his defender that Louise Gerretz first shows herself to the world. Her tender, sympathetic heart could find excuse for a brother who would not learn Latin because even as a child his heart was set upon becoming a painter. We know how he succeeded, but it is not always one's early desires are fulfilled so completely as they were in Paul's case.

It was in the evening of the very same day on which Louise championed her brother's cause that we find her almost heart-broken, yet bravely hiding her own grief and comforting her younger sisters and brothers in a terrible affliction, the most terrible that can overtake a family of young children. This was the sudden death of the beloved mother, who had been an invalid for some time. The father was a drunken sot, who had fallen into heavy slumber even while his dying wife was uttering her last request to him on earth; this was that he would make an artist of the young Paul, instead of a lawyer, as was his intention.

The next day, while preparations were going on for the funeral, the brutal husband sought refuge from remorse in the bottle, so that for the most part of the day he was hopelessly drunk. In this emergency Louise (who was only fifteen) took the direction of affairs into her own hands.

The little ones had been crying all day for their mother, and would not be even separated from the corpse. They were inconsolable, and at last the youngest sobbed out, "Who will be our mother now?"

At this question Louise arose, and said, with deep and solemn earnestness, "I will!"

There was something in her manner which struck the children with wonder.

Their tears ceased immediately. It seemed as if an angel stood beside Louise, and said, "Behold your mother!"

"Do you not wish me for your mother?" she repeated.

The little ones ran into her embrace. She folded her arms around them, and all wept together.

She had conquered the children with love, and they were no more trouble to her. They all gladly gave the promise to look up to and obey her in everything.

But a harder task was before her. Strangers were present who must soon find out that her father was intoxicated, on this day of all others, if she did not get him out of the way. She succeeded at last, after infinite pains, and that so well that no one knew the state he was in, and thus he was saved from the open disgrace that would surely have followed him had it got about.

The sad duties of the funeral over, Louise Gerretz braced herself to the task of looking after the numerous household affairs. Nor was this all she had to do, for her father carried on the business of a miller, and because of his drunken habits his daughter had the workpeople to look after, and also the shop to attend to. But she was sustained by the thought that her sainted mother was looking on her from heaven, and this helped her to bear up during the trying times that followed.

She now determined that, if it were possible, her brother Paul--who, afterwards following the usual custom amongst painters of the time, changed his name to Rembrandt--should have every opportunity afforded him of following his natural bent.

[Sidenote: "I will be a Painter!"]

But no sooner was the subject broached to M. Gerretz than his anger blazed forth, and though Louise withstood him for some time, she felt her cherished plans would receive no consideration whatever from a father who was three-parts of his time crazed with drink. Little Paul, who was present, seeing that the appeal would probably end in failure, exclaimed, with determined voice, "I will be a painter!"

A blow aimed at him was his father's reply. The blow missed its mark, but struck the sister-mother to the earth. Heedless of his own danger, Paul raised his sister's head, and bathed it tenderly until she came to herself again. Even the brutish Gerretz was somewhat shocked by what he had done, yet seizing what he thought an advantage, he cried, "Hark ye, young rascal! You mind not blows any more than my plain orders; but your sister helps you out in all your disobedience, and if you offend me I will punish her."

The brutal threat had its desired effect, and young Paul returned to those studies which were intended to make a lawyer of him.

Every spare moment, however, he spent in his favourite pursuit. His materials were of the roughest: a charred stick, a lump of chalk, and a flour sack. Not very encouraging tools, one would think, and yet the genius that was within would not be hid. He produced from memory a portrait of his mother, that had such an effect upon the father that the latter, affected to tears by the sight of his dead wife's face, dismissed the boy with his blessing, and promised him he should be a painter after all.

Great was Louise's joy; and then, like the loving, practical sister she was, she immediately set about the young artist's outfit. Nor did she pause until everything was in apple-pie order.

Surely G.o.d was strengthening and comforting His own. Just consider; here was a young girl, now only sixteen years of age, who had the management of a miller's business, was a mother and sister in one to three young children, and, one is almost tempted to say, was also a tender, loving wife to a drunken, incapable father.

The journey to Leyden, whither Paul was bound, was not without incident of a somewhat romantic kind. As the vehicle in which Louise and the future great painter sat neared Leyden, they came upon a man who lay insensible upon the road. The tender heart of the girl was touched, and she stopped and restored the man to consciousness, and then pressed further a.s.sistance upon him. The grateful recipient of her kindness, however, soon feeling strong enough, proceeded on his way alone.

The scene had not pa.s.sed without a witness, though, who proved to be none other than the eminent master-painter Van Zwanenburg, who joined himself to the little party. But his brow darkened when he learned the purport of the young traveller's journey, and he spoke no more for some time, for he was a misanthrope, and, consequently, took small share in the hopes and pleasures of others. Soon after, however, as they were pa.s.sing a forge, young Paul stopped and clapped his hands with delight at the sight of the ruddy light cast on the faces of the workmen.

"Canst thou sketch this scene?" asked Van Zwanenburg. Paul took a pencil, and in a few moments traced a sketch, imperfect, no doubt, but one in which the princ.i.p.al effects of light and shade especially were accurately produced.

"Young girl," said the painter, "you need go no further. I am Van Zwanenburg, and I admit your brother from this minute to my studio."

Further conversation ensued, and Van Zwanenburg soon learned the whole sorrowful tale, and also the courage and devotedness of this young foster-mother. He dismissed her with a blessing, misanthrope even as he was, and then carried Paul to his studio, lighter at heart for having done a kind action.

Sorrowful, and yet with a glad heart, did Louise part from little Paul, and then turn homewards. Little did she dream of the great sorrow that was there awaiting her.

[Sidenote: Lost in the Forest]

Arriving at home in the dark, she was startled to find that no one answered her repeated knocking. Accompanied by an old servant, who had been with her in the journey, she was about to seek a.s.sistance from the neighbours, when lights were seen in the adjoining forest. She hastened towards these, and was dismayed to learn that the two children left at home had strayed away and got lost in the forest. M. Gerretz was amongst the searchers, nearly frantic. The men were about to give up the search when Louise, with a prayer for strength on her lips, appealed to them to try once more. She managed to regulate the search this time, sending the men off singly in different directions, so as to cover as much ground as possible. Then with her father she set out herself.

It was morning when they returned. Gerretz, sober enough now, was bearing the insensible form of the brave girl in his arms. She recovered, but only to learn that one of the children had been brought in dead, while the other was nearly so. This sister thus brought so near to death's door was to prove a sore trial in the future to poor Louise.

A hard life lay before Louise, and it was only by G.o.d's mercy that she was enabled to keep up under the manifold trials that all too thickly strewed her path. Her father, sobered for a time by the dreadful death of his child, through his own negligence, soon fell back into his evil ways, and became more incapable than ever. The business would have gone to the dogs had it not been for his heroic daughter, who not only looked after the household, but managed the mill and shop as well. All this was done in such a quiet, unostentatious manner that no one of their friends or customers but thought that the father was the chief manager.

But Louise had other trials in store. Her sister Therese was growing up into young womanhood, and rebelled against her gentle, loving authority.

The father aided Therese in the rebellion, as he thought Louise kept too tight a hold of the purse-strings. Between father and sister, poor Louise had a hard time of it; she even, at one time, was compelled to sell some valued trinkets to pay a bill that was due, because money she had put by for the purpose was squandered in drink and finery.

The father died, and then after many years we see Louise Gerretz established in the house of Van Zwanenburg the artist, the same who had taken young Paul as a pupil. Both Louise and Paul were now his adopted children; nor was he without his reward. Under the beneficent rule of the gentle Louise things went so smoothly that the artist and his pupils blessed the day when she came amongst them.

But before the advent of Louise, her brother Paul had imbibed a great share of his master's dark and gloomy nature, and, what was perhaps even worse, had already, young as he was, acquired the habit of looking at everything from a money-making standpoint.

Another great sorrow was in store for Louise, though she came from the ordeal with flying colours, and once more the grand self-sacrificing nature of the young woman shone out conspicuous amidst its surroundings of sordid self-interest. It was in this way. The nephew of Van Zwanenburg, with the approval of his uncle, wooed and eventually obtained her consent to their marriage.

On the death of the father, Therese had been taken home by an aunt, who possessed considerable means, to Brussels. The aunt was now dead, and Therese, who inherited some of her wealth, came to reside near her sister and brother. She was prepossessing and attractive, and very soon it became evident that the lover of Louise, whose name was Saturnin, had transferred his affection to the younger sister. Saturnin, to his credit, did try to overcome his pa.s.sion for Therese, but only found himself becoming more hopelessly in love with her handsome face and engaging ways. Van Zwanenburg stormed, and even forbade the young man his house.

Louise herself seemed to be the only one who did not see how things were going. She was happy in her love, which, indeed, was only increased by the thought that her promised husband and her sister seemed to be on the best of terms.

But one day she received a terrible awakening from her happy dreams. She heard two voices whispering, and, almost mechanically, stopped to listen. It was Saturnin and Therese. "I will do my duty," Saturnin was saying; "I will wed Louise. I will try to hide from her that I have loved another, even though I die through it."

Great was the grief of poor Louise, though, brave girl as she was, she strove to stifle her feelings, lest she should give pain to those she loved. A little later she sought Van Zwanenburg, and begged that he would restore Saturnin to favour, and consent to his marriage with Therese. She was successful in her mission of love, though not at first.

[Sidenote: A Terrible Blow]

Hiding her almost broken heart, Louise now strove to find comfort in the thought that she had made others happy, though she had to admit it was at a terrible cost to herself.

Her unselfishness had a great effect upon the old artist, whose admiration for his adopted daughter now knew no bounds. Through her he was restored to his faith in human nature, and he asked G.o.d to forgive him for ever doubting the existence of virtue.

We cannot follow Louise Gerretz through the next twenty years. Suffice it to say that during that time Van Zwanenburg pa.s.sed peacefully away, and that Paul Rembrandt, whose reputation was now well established, had married. The lonely sister tried to get on with Paul's wife, but after a few years she had sadly to seek a home of her own.

At the end of the twenty years Louise one day received the following curt letter from her miserly brother:

"SISTER,--My wife is dead, my son is travelling, I am alone.

"PAUL REMBRANDT."

The devoted sister, still intent on making others happy, started at once to her brother, and until the day of his death she never left him. A great change had come over Rembrandt. He had become more morose and bitter than ever. Success had only seemed to harden his heart, until nothing but the c.h.i.n.king of gold had any effect upon it. He was immensely wealthy, but a miser. As the years pa.s.sed the gloom settled deeper upon his soul, until finally he shut himself up in his dark studio, and would see no one but Jews and money-brokers. At times he would not let a picture go unless it had been covered with gold, as the price of it. With all this wealth, the house of the famous painter bore a poverty-stricken look, which was copied in the person of Rembrandt himself.

Just before the end, when he felt himself seized by his death-sickness, Paul one day called his sister to his bedside, and, commanding her to raise a trapdoor in the floor of his bedroom, showed her his h.o.a.rd of gold. He then begged, as his last request, that he should be buried privately, and that neither his son, nor indeed any one, should know that he died rich. Louise was to have everything, and the graceless son nothing.

[Sidenote: Louise's Refusal]