Is this the author? Or have we returned to the eavesdropper, who is part of the narrative,
and therefore exists in the past? Already we have a duality, and something hidden. By denying the
likeness of the setting sun on the snow to that of wine, the author diverts us from the more sinister
image which is passing through our minds, placed there by the ending of the sentence, about all
the dead bodies: that the setting sun is like spilt blood:
“looking at the reddened snow, and at the lonely shed hard by, where the bodies of belated
travellers, dug out of it, slowly wither away, knowing no corruption in that cold region.”
We thus begin to suspect right at the beginning, that just as under the snow, there is much
hidden blood, and the simile is not so innocent after all. Perhaps each of the events in this story—
perhaps even the story itself—is a simile for something else, something even more disturbing.
The couriers all insist that they do not speak of ghosts, but what else could these tales be?
And here we wonder, and begin to question the power of nurture over nature, of will over fate, and
of self over psychology.
The first tale could easily be called
“The Stolen Bride”
, and remains a classic of psychological
horror: the Demon Lover genre. Perhaps its earliest incarnation was by Goethe in
“The
Erlking”
and later Sheridan Le Fanu would make the theme famous in
“Schalken the Painter”
.
The palazzo hints of ruin, is
“like a tomb”
with a smell
“grown faint with
confinement”
suggesting repression. The names
“Dellombra and Clara”
are opposites; shadows
and light. Are we being told that Clara is schizophrenic, and Dellombra is either imagined, or guilt-
induced, or a metaphor for her dark side; possibly a sexual desire? Dellombra bearing her off in a
coach might symbolise her being driven by her own desires (or even an addiction to laudanum).
The husband’s darker side might indicate that Clara lost her virginity, and Charles Dickens might
be suggesting very obliquely that Clara is no longer the rider, but the hostage of the coach drawn
by those dark horses.
If this seems far-fetched, then why else should Clara’s husband gradually encourage her to
accept the reality of the man she first saw in her dream? It seems callous—unless it is a metaphor.
An inhibited Victorian female who had led a sheltered life, might well faint at the idea (as Clara
did, when she saw the face.) Perhaps the husband is not so insensitive after all, but trying to
encourage his wife to see and feel the sensual or sexual desire of her “dark side”.
Or maybe after all, it is just a ghost story, and we are never to know what happened to the
young wife.
The story about twins does not seem so straightforward either. The idea of those close to
each other visiting each other at the point of death is a well-known phenomenon. But here, the
dying brother “visited” his twin in spirit form, before he had actually died. What does this signify?
Or is it just a trick, to unnerve the reader even more?
The story was written more than 30 years before
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