In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the waters. And God said, “Let there be light”: and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good: and through man’s first disobedience did the earth’s water began to weep. Not for the wound that man has blown from their fatal transgression, but to mourn what will transpire. And our first parents begat children and their children begat bastards and their bastards begat monstrosities more inbred and deformed than the last until all that was left were grotesque caricatures of primordial man. Through wars and hardships they mutilate themselves in a vain attempt to become whole again. They tear their limbs, gnash their teeth, and wail onto the sky like an orphaned baby crying for their mother’s unrequited love until all that remains are rotting vestigials that attract degenerate vultures and swarming blowflies. First, God brought the waters and drowned their sorrows, but like cockroaches they survived and multiplied. Then, God brought the begotten son to ease their suffering, but they killed him and wore his entrails like a jester parodying a king. Last, God brought fire. The blaze, the ardor, the stench of scorched carcasses became the world. The faces of the damned contorted between agony and ecstasy; they raised their charred arms and screamed, “Love me! Love me! Oh Father, please love me!”
“Shocking, isn’t it?”
Raphael tumbled from the chapel’s seat in shock, and the choir director gave a hearty laugh.
“Dear heavens, Mr. Vernier!” exclaimed Raphael. “You almost gave me a heart attack with that little prank of yours!”
“I’m terribly sorry, Raphael,” said Mr. Vernier, trying to hold in a laugh. “You just looked so fixated on the chancel’s paintings that I couldn’t help myself.”
“Yeah… It’s awfully depressing don’t you think? It stands out from- literally everything else at the college.”
“I don’t necessarily disagree with you, Raphael. Certainly, the painting is more befitting in a ghastly scene from a Gothic novel, or at least a museum, than a beachside college chapel; however, it was a gift from a very well-endowed patron, you see. The story follows that in Mr. Barlow’s final will, he offered his complete inheritance to Rover College for fine art studies on the condition that they erect the chapel with his paintings adorning the chapel’s chancel.”
“Well isn’t that awfully strange,” responded Raphael. “Why would he request such a thing? Was it for any personal reasons, or simply the idling humor of a dying old man? Even then, the collection appears to be unfinished, as it looks like there is room for another canvas.”
“I suppose the latter is typically the accepted reasoning for the chapel’s existence. When Mr. Barlow studied painting at the college he was known to be quite the trickster. Since he never had an heir, most people just considered the horridness of the paintings and endowment to be a last prank against the college, his swan song if you will; for most people, that was seen as a rational enough reason for its existence.”
“Accepted, rational; why do you use such indecisive words? That is not the full story, is it?”
“Even in the best of times, do we ever know the full story, Raphael? But I digress: if you swear to never tell another soul, I will continue.”
Raphael grabbed the closest bible he could find and swore an oath on his honor and lineage.
“While it is indeed true that Mr. Barlow attended Rover College, and it is indeed true that he painted the pictures, it does not follow that he gave the endowment as a joke. Yes, Jacob Barlow was a trickster in his youth, but Mr. Barlow died a grave and serious man. Being an officer during the Civil War does that to you. Do you see that final painting on the right? How do you think he was able to capture such terror? Not just display the emotion of terror, but being able to manifest the intangible concept of terror itself. That is not simply a painting of the last judgment, but Antietam immortalized. Mr. Barlow didn’t finish the collection because he couldn’t finish it.”
“But that doesn’t explain why he would choose this college of all places. Wouldn’t you think he would choose his local church or something like that?”
“I believe you’re failing to follow my train of thought. Let me ask you a question, Mr. Lewis, why do you think the chapel was built?”
Raphael stared at the ground in apprehensive thought.
“Where do we return to when the world completely abandons us? Not to the riches of our abode, nor even to religion, but the Eden of our youth. Where even the most forlorn can reminisce on the days of innocence before the pangs of their first betrayal, whose one true love remains unblemished by the corruption of simply being human. Do you understand now, Raphael?”
Raphael continued staring at the ground until he came up with a way to change the conversation.
“So… who are we waiting for again?”
“Right, you haven’t met Ms. von Rhineburg, have you? I suppose Katharina has been quite busy this first week working on her personal compositions and classes. Typically, during her free time, she works as my assistant director and should be here anytime now to rehearse with you.”
“A von! I’ve never met a von before!” Raphael began to light up. “Not even a sir nor lady! However, I have met a Princess of the Fairies once before. Mother told me that it was simply Mrs. Garside in play, but I refuse to believe it. Mrs. Garside always seemed quite plain in comparison. Agreeable and comely, most certainly, but no princess. So what is Lady von Rhineberg like?”
Well, the von Rhineburgs technically haven’t been nobility since 1919, Mr. Vernier thought to himself. Even then, according to her cousins in the town over, her branch of the family was quite minor. Nothing more than some lawyers and military officers, perhaps landed gentry, but nobility is a bit of a stretch. However, Raphael does seem to enjoy his musings of meeting nobility, and I don’t want to break the kid’s heart. I don’t see the harm in making nature take its part, and Katharina might find some humor in it. She could stand to laugh a bit more.
“She’s…scrupulous,” Mr. Vernier responded.
“Scrupulous? What do you mean by that?”
“Well, you see-“
When Mr. Vernier began to explain his word choice, Katharina stepped into the room with a look of gloom on her face. “I’m terribly sorry for my untimeliness,” she said. “I was caught in a prior engagement that required my complete attention. I swear, by all manner of my being, did I try to depart.”
When Raphael turned around he was shocked at the sight. Instead of the lady-in-waiting that he envisioned in his head, he saw a virago with princely debonair. She had perfect posture that stood her taller than most men, but with the physique of a castrato, Raphael thought to himself, and an aquiline face with strawberry curls that rested on her lavallière and blouse.
“Good morning my lord—my lady!” said Raphael while giving a bow.
“Good morning…” replied Katharina with a slighted tinge beneath her breath. She couldn’t tell if Raphael was trying to insult her or was simply daft.
“It’s great to finally have you arrive, Katharina,” said Mr. Vernier. “Well, now that you two have met, I think it’s my time to depart.” Mr. Vernier quickly walked out of the chapel, hoping to not betray a chuckle from the two’s bickering.
After Mr. Vernier closed the chapel’s doors, Katharina turned to Raphael and asked, “So, where would you like to begin your lessons?”
Throughout the course of Raphael’s first year, the initial antagonism between the two was supplanted by a seed of tolerance. With tolerance came respect, and respect sprouted mutual amicability. In the summer, the bud of Raphael’s admiration bloomed into devotion.