In classifying ghost stories and supernatural fiction, we can trace two stains, exemplified best by Poe and and by Le Fanu. The former is the Gothic, featuring ruined towers, dungeons, light flashing from armour and sword blades, and black cats. The second is the domestic haunting, in a cathedral, a manor house, or a holiday hotel – the greatest exponent was M. R. James. Vernon Lee’s (or Violet Paget’s) ‘Amour Dure, Dure Amour’ (or its heroine Medea da Carpi) has haunted me for more than fifty years. Medea was a young and beautiful Renaissance aristocrat whose husbands and lovers (five of them) come to violent ends when she tires of them (she is literally ‘to die for’, they are happy to be tortured to death for the gift of a handkerchief.) Fearing for his life, her last husband, Duke Robert, ‘had Medea strangled in a convent, and what is remarkable, insisted that only woman – two infanticides to whom he remitted their sentence – should be employed for the deed.’ Her archetype is ‘la belle dame sans merci’ and Paget exhibits a fine example of late 19th century Lesbian aesthetic sensibility. In the story a young Polish historian at a German university (being Polish not German he of course is a romantic) is researching the history in a city called Urbania and discovers Medea’s story in ancient documents. Which leads to encountering her portrait and finally her ghost.
I’m fascinated with ghost stories where the observer is transported to another time, The scenes in the ruined chapel of the beheaded John the Baptist, in the midst of midwinter gloom suddenly illuminated with candles, along with sung liturgy and then the appearance of Medea herself, are simply stunning. Our narrator finds that Medea needs a small favour from him, the living, and then she will come to him. And when she does ...
It’s a great ghost story, and a great and cruel love story, perfectly set.