“Marsyas in Flanders” was written by “Vernon Lee” and appeared in “Marsyas in Flanders” (1900). “Vernon Lee” was the pseudonym of Violet Paget (1865-1935), a brilliant writer of supernatural fiction. She may not be well-known, but among the cognoscenti of supernatural fiction hers is a name to conjure with. “Marsyas in Flanders” is better than “The Phantom Lover” and not quite as good as “Amour Dure,” but that merely puts “Marsyas in Flanders” in extremely good company.

The nameless narrator of “Marsyas in Flanders” visits the Church of the Dunes in France on the eve of the Feast of the Crucifix. The narrator is particularly interested in the Church’s crucifix, which appears to be of a different and later style than the crucifix the Church is known for, which was miraculously cast ashore on the island of Dunes in the twelfth century. The antiquary of the Church tells the narrator why this is so. The original crucifix washed ashore in 1195, lacking its crosspiece and its arms. But when it was placed in the Church strange things began to take place. The day after it was erected in the Church the crucifix was discovered in a shifted position, “bent violently to the right, as if in an effort to break loose.”¹The Effigy continued to shift, “always as if it had gone through violent contortions.”² The crucifix was eventually found on the ground, its crosspiece broken in three places. A new cross was built and erected some years later, but the shifting began again, and then the crucifix was again found on the ground, the cross shattered. Rumors spread that the stone of the Church was not pure enough, but after the appropriate rites of purification were performed and a new cross put in place, strange noises and “music of rustic dancing”³ began to be heard from the Church at night. Then the Church was struck by lightning, and the Effigy was found “lying behind the high altar, in an attitude of frightful convulsion, and, it was whispered, blackened by lightning.”⁴

A new Church was built and the Prior announced that the original crosspiece of the Effigy had washed ashore. It was put in the crucifix, other relics crowded out the Effigy, and no more miracles took place. The Antiquary goes on to tell the story’s narrator about a hearing held involving charges against the Prior, who was threatened with charges of sacrilege and witchcraft. During the hearing witnesses testified about the noises, howling, and the music heard in the Church at night, and a former Church Warder, now a madman, testified about how “the Great Wild Man”⁵ broke the cross in two, played quoits with it and piped music for his wolves to howl to. The antiquary then shows the narrator the original Effigy, of a crucified satyr, and the Antiquary says, “Here...he was buried beneath this vault and they had run an iron stake through his middle, like a vampire, to prevent his rising. I think the Abbot and Prior were not so wrong to drive the iron stake through him when they removed him from the church.”⁶

Educated connoisseurs of horror stories have lamented the title of “Marsyas in Flanders,” because the title itself spoils the ending of the story. But most modern readers will not know that Marsyas, in Greek mythology, was the name of a satyr flayed alive by Apollo for challenging the god to a music competition. So most modern readers will be suitably surprised at the story’s ending. Nor will “Marsyas” pall on a second reading, because like the best horror stories it has many virtues apart from the twist ending. There is the classical erudition, the feeling of great knowledge carried lightly. Lee was extremely knowledgeable about European culture, art and history–her Studies of the Eighteenth Century in Italy (1880) continues to be used and respected–and she infuses “Marsyas” with some of her enormous learning. She does not do this in a clumsy manner, though, and never in a way that boasts of her superior erudition, but rather just enough to ground the story in history and provide the necessary background. There is the vivid imagery, the quickly and sharply described scenes. There is the sheer creepiness of the shifting, moving Effigy. There is the occasional flash of humor, as with this exchange between a member of the Church hierarchy and a starving, insane man:

Query: Can he remember what happened on the Vigil of All Saints, in the church of the Dunes, before he swooned on the floor of the church?

Answer: He cannot. It would be a sin to speak of such things before great spiritual Lords. Moreover he is but an ignorant man, and also mad. Moreover his hunger is great.⁷

Lastly, there is the tone of the story. Lee gets it just right. The history of the Effigy is recounted briskly and memorably, without any mood-breaking ironic asides but with just enough additional description to make the scenes come alive, as with the description of the discovery of the Effigy “in an attitude of frightful convulsion.”⁸

Though not usually counted among the Victorian stories of horror involving Pan, “Marsyas in Flanders” has a satyr, Pan’s lookalike and stand-in. Pan, in Victorian horror stories like Machen’s “The Great God Pan,”

was progressively adopted in late Victorian and Edwardian Gothic fiction as an emblem both of nature and of the anarchy and license that implicitly lay beyond and beneath the civilized world. The conventional image of the goat-foot god inevitably lends itself to the Gothic: Pan, with his cloven hooves, pointed beard, and horns is visually reminiscent of the Christian Satan.⁹

While the sight of the Effigy is not enough to drive men mad, the sight of “the Great Wild Man” was. “The liberations of Pan, seemingly, come at a high price, even for those who encounter them indirectly.”¹⁰

Print: Vernon Lee, Hauntings: The Supernatural Stories. Ashcroft, BC: Ash-Tree Press, 2002.

¹ Vernon Lee, “Marsyas in Flanders,” For Maurice: Five Unlikely Stories (New York: Arno Press, 1976), 77.

² Lee, “Marsyas in Flanders,” 78.

³ Lee, “Marsyas in Flanders,” 81.

⁴ Lee, “Marsyas in Flanders,” 82.

⁵ Lee, “Marsyas in Flanders,” 89.

⁶ Lee, “Marsyas in Flanders,” 91-92.

⁷ Lee, “Marsyas in Flanders,” 88.

⁸ Lee, “Marsyas in Flanders,” 82.

⁹ Hughes, The Historical Dictionary of Gothic Literature, 196.

¹⁰ Hughes, The Historical Dictionary of Gothic Literature, 196.