LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1595, 31 March 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE DOUBLE PICTURE. (Conelnded.) Tie gazed upon her with an awe-strict en expression. ' Die, my beloved I' he faid ; y >u are jesting. our «'heek glr>ws with health, your constitution is strong, and I look forward to many years of happiness we m;iy enjoy together ' 'I would I coal 1 think so. Eatehan ; but Go' in hi wisdom has decreed otherwise.' Murillo cheered the maiden, :v>d her fears seemed to lessen; the became more cheerful and i-at for her p rtrvt. ! ays pasted uvay in s *'eet communion with each ther ; sh i became gay and nppsrently happy ; and the la** d .y of sitting for the portrait arrived. The picture, nearly completed, was to be exhi ited before t'.ie wend tig. Catalina was e-.rly in the studio, and p>; ting her hand on the painter's ■houldor and lo king him full in the face with mournful eyes, she said : ■ Estebau, I h »ve one req'ie&t to of you. I hare granted y iir favour; now do me this one last favour that I ask of you. It will b« difficult to perform, I know, but I have thou ht d eply of it. I fee' that you are wishful to do good ; that you are g> nerous and faithful. I wish you to do ono act which will lead you to think of me in heaven I do not want to die without ming potc goo i ; and that which I you to do may perhaps teach the vain and frivolous a l;s«on, and lead them to better and more holy thoughts ' Murillo was tortured by these allusions to death; but proiru'eri he would to the best of his power to fullil her request, however difficult it. might be to accomplish. ' I fear my request is far more difficult than you imagine, &nd yet my heart tells me that I am right ia making it,' said Catalina. iAgain and again the young lover solemnly promised that whatever her request be, it should bn done according to her wi-h. "Then," said Catalina, in a low t n», but with sohmn earnestness, "I wish that this ; icturc may be exhibited in the most public lace ia Madrid, that all may see it And ono month af er my death I would have yo i go down into the tomb and paint me us ' then am on the reverse of the canvas. All wdl read the moral ; one day possessed of ill that makos life enviable—and the next behold the \ or mortal remains !" The painter shuddered in anguish at the ha ' thought, and as if to stop any further remarks on t-m'h a subject exclaimed : '' 0 ('atalsiia, why shou'd you allow Rich a melancholy tJvight to tdte possesion of your mind? Why should you demise the happ'ness for whii-h yu were born ?" "Eiteban. E teban!" said Catalina, "do not bt j deceived, I know, not onlv frim i>piritnal whisperings, but from an inward sinking, that my end draws very near; and •VMS my own physician shook his head when

1 told him the eymotoms of disease. I did wsh to live, bnt God has wilbd it otherwise. H<b ways are CC+- our ways, and y< t they work toget.her for good *o th S* wh > love him avid the hie s j d 3ai~.ts lit ne»v. n. Now, Ksteban, think of the god such * tno>al teaching as I suggest may do to perhaps thousands of persons who ■ eve' think of d»*ath. But"—and her voice faltered. tea-3 coursing down her cheeks —"if the performance of your promise will m ke y>u miserable—will give you pain—then abandon it F »rg' t that yon have promised —forget hit T have made the request " 'My Catalina,' replied the painter, 'if you shoui \ die in your youth—which God and the Holy Virgin f >rbid!— I will remember all that you have said. Vour request shall be c rri d nut to thi very letter Let ns, however forget the dreary anticipation, a- d think only of the present—of your trace and beauty, and how I cin best put these on the Y >u must look your best and your sweetest whilst ! finish the picture; and all Madrid shall gaze with delight on your glorious countenance. Ihe picture was finished; and a 1! the nobles asieTibb'd a*; Villamanrique Palace to view MuiHo's portrait of his betrothed. I was then placed in the public square at Mao 1 rid, and crowds came to upon the portrait of ohe heautifril girl. The greater portion of the femaje se;t were heard to envy her beauty, her wei'th, and her high position ; but not a few lamented that they had not the happy lot of Catalina. # . # # *

The palace of Villamanrique is again thrown open, but not for feasing or pleasure ; the nob'es are there, al othe Prime Minister, and a representative of the sovereign ; but the walls are hung with bla ;h the low solemn cb.an.fc of the Mser >rei< swelling and dy ng mournfully away amid the vaulted chamb»rs The pri*e of the hou»e, t' e father's darling, the mother's pride, and the loyer's idol, is dead ; her mortal remains are now bef >re the altar of the chaps', and the mourners are msriy. I'tie sof.'W of the household is great, but the soul of the painter is charged with an overvrhs'rr iug rliod of gt'ui All en rgy. all ambition, seemed dead within him. Ere the coffin was closed, he took a last look at his t etrothed, who seemed as if a calm sleep had fallen upon her. and <miling even whilst she sept ' Beau iful, beautif.l 1 even in death ' ho exclaimed, and then t-hut himself up in the stnd'o, t >o agitated to take part in tb.H fnneial ceremony With all the solemn pomp that wealth conld command, Catalina was Juried in the toiib of her ancestors ; and many a fervent prayer was breathed for the repose of her pure soul. Mnrillo remained like one demented for a whole month > he would neither se*> nor be seen by any one. Dust gathered undis turb-d over his pictures, aod spiders hid hung their webs over draperies. v ot a soun i, not a breath, disturbed the strange stillness of the painter's studio. It was noon, and the April sun tried to show its brightness through the dull windows, when words of comfort that the lost one had spoken to him appeared to come to bis mi d soothingly, as though breathed bv a spirit's voice. Suddenly he roused himself from his eihargv, and paced up and down the room. A blighting thought had smitten his brain ; The month had passed, and his promise was unfulfilled. Could he perform it? <"ould he gaze on the face and form he had so dearlv loved, now mouldering in the grave ? Was it possible to do this and live ? "Yes ; it must be done,'he cried; 'and if death comes in the performance, it will be we'como. Yes, Catalina, you*- promise sha'l be fu'.filled.' He clasp* d his hands, and every n*>rve trembled as he strode through the palace into the library, where hnng the picture of ' atalina. He r turned with it to the studio and ordered wine, to brace himself for the eff >rt Then he turned the picture, and prepared to canvas for farther operations it was night; and he called for sonic o f tho servants to bring torches and convey him fc > the tomb. ' Proceed,' he said, ' and I will follow. The servants did his bidding, and Murillo strcde firmly on. His lips were compressed, and h s face very pale. He looked like a man carved in stone, but suddenly inspired with life. Kneeling for a moment in the chapel he descended into the van'ts below. The sf-rva'*ts pla *ed the picture before him, fas ened theb- t rehes to the wall, an 1 'eft him-dor e alone with the dead. Suddenly he f< It th<*t his atalina wa« no longer dead but living in a higher and better sphere, a*id was even then smiling uon him. This feeling dispelled all fear L <'e ea mly ap p oac'-.e 1 the coffin, removed the lid, and gazed with fond remembrance on those human remain*-; then se z'ng hi« brushes, commence I his wo v k All through that long night he worked on as if inspired. The servants relieved guard in the chapel adjoin in?, and o< casional'y brought him wine, of which he temperately partook. The morning came at last; the picture was fini-hed, but the painter lay upon the cold floor motionless rnd still. With tender care the s-rvants rained him in their arms, and bore him to the light and air A doctor was hastiy pent for; and gradua'ly the pulee was brought into action. He opened his eyes, but their expression wai dreamy and vacant; he knew not any he saw around him. but murmured incoherently of the past The excitement he had gone through wa« toe much for his weak frame. *nd a burning fever laid him I*w for many week*. But he recovered ; and h ; s first inqui y was for the picture, which he demanded shou*l be ex hibited in the public pquarc in Madrid, as it had 'orrnerly heen when there was only one painting upon it Spanish documents incon'estably show that for three this Pouble Picture was thus publicly exhibited, and pious commentators on the siit.j ct say that 'everyone flocked to gaze upon Murillo's wondrous picture. The effect was wonderful and made a deep and lasting imi res ion upon thousands of people. The gay and thoughtless came to see it oftentimes with ribald jests upon thei>- lips, but turned from it bilent y an 1 rll *ctively. The rich and mighty 1 >oked upon it with awe, reminding them ih/*t the pamp red body or the rich inheritance cannot retain their earthly dower when Providence wills otherwise; and one and all could see from that picture fie end to which we all must come.'

When Murillo recovered sufficiently, he left Madrid, and returned to hi 3 native city Seville and there founded an Academy of • ai'iting, and earned for himself an imperishable nimo. Rut he was a changed man from the day cf his betrothed's death. His face \v.a calm and mild, but a smile w»8 rarely seen upon it; his spright'y conversa tion never again gl widened fhe royal city of Madrid, ytfc hn could not leave this world without at;ain visiting it aud giving the last touch to the Double iicture. * # #• # Forty years had passed since the depar ture of Murillo from the palace of Villamanriqae ; the count had gone the way of all flesh ; a distant relative succeeded him in the estate, and he aho had died, leaving a successor, when one day a shrivelled old m;m, enveloped in a rioh cloak, arrived at the mansion and desired to see the C unt Vilkvnanrique. The visitor was Murillo, who announ*"d his name and his wishes in t'le Bame breath ' All my old friends,' he Faid, ' are dead and gone ; there is only one thing dear to me in this p ace now, and that is t.hH Double Picture.' 'The apa arancp," replied the young count "<£ that picture was so maddening that we c nsu_ned it to t*ie ! 'ombs."' " ■> ell," replied Murillo, "I have come to make it peasanier -one that you can lo"k at without a feeling of horror I have only a sh'.rt. time to live, and I to show the hope that is in me in that picture." I he studio was made r ady for the old painter, and the pic ure was »e wveyed f>om the t"lib t > the palace. When he saw tin; fi-ture there \v:.s no sain ss in his c nnfenance, a >mi!a 'vaa on his lips—a purified happy smi'e. He Indeed unwvds, ai if lie already saw bright visions of another world, and his be'ov d waiting to welcome him on l igh. He seized his brushes, and on the clouds which veiled the upper part of

the thWm picture h« ptint d 'hat heavenly vision alrea If described, which appears to throw a radiance of * brighter world on the face of the cn'ps- aid conveys to th • mind of 'he speotat r that h r spirit »* about to escape {mm hn mortal ooil into the tealms of ihe ble«s d. The old man looked upon his work ; his smile jfew brighter, and turning to his host he said: "'Now my work is d ne. »"hfi picture is manrique family. No one can look at it with horror now. For forty years I have thonght daily and nightly of that picture ; and only now, when I am hoping soon to j in my b -loved in heaven, have I thought of on canvas the moral lesson of life, that a*'er death the pure in heart shall rec°ive greater joys than any that earth affords." Tf this were a tale of fiction it onght to be said that the old man then howed his head and di j d. But Murillo roany months after his last touch to the double paintmg. His death was accelerated by fal'ing from a scaffold whilst painting a picture in the Church of the Capuchins at Cadiz, in the year 1682.