LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1674, 2 July 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

HOW VAN DYCK WON HiS WIFE. In one of the splendidly decorated saloons at St. James a was assembled a group of young and lovely girls, whose delicate fingers were busily engaged in different kinds of ornamental needlework, which, under their skilful arrangement, formed bouquets which rivalled nature in the brilliancy of their colors and accuracy of shades. They were the Queen’s maid’s of honor, and between their gay chattering and busy fingers employed the time while waiting for her rising. The only grave person in the assembly was the Dowager Duchess d’ Alby, the chief of the ladies of honor. Among the blooming group tho youngest was remarkable for simplicity of dress and the quiet modesty of her whole appearance. Her attire was a dress of black velvet closed to the throat, but of which the skirt, open in front, disclosed an underdress of white satin ; the sleeves came just below the elbow and coquettishly disclosed the arm and baud of the moat dazzling wbit«neaa. A plaited tucker encircled her graceful neck, on which hung a chain to which was attached a large cross, and the luxuriant hair, simply parted on the forehead and confined by a large scarf, completed her costume. This was the daughter of one of the most illustrious families of Scotland. Her father. Lord Knthven, to a princely fortune claimed a pedigree of which he was more proud than of his wealth. Lucy, hia daughter, had secretly arrived at the English Court on her appointment to a post in the Queen’s household, there to complete the education which had been carefully guided by her father. Retired and simple in her tastes, her mind instinctively sought tho sublime in the works of nature and art. She excelled in painting, and her genius had created a world of her own in the daily contemplation of the productions of tho beat masters, which adorned the galleries of her father. Paul Veronese, Guido, Rubens were of tho number of her friends, and she vowed them eternal gratitude for the light their talents shed on her solitude. Tho habits and manners of Lacy contrasted strongly with those of her companions, who had been habituated to more independence and liberty. Gentle and timid to excess, she scarcely attempted to answer tho sportive and often mischievous sallies of her companions. The large clock in the saloon chimed the hour of 10. All eyes were directed to it, and several voices exclaimed—“ He’s very late !” just as a domestic announced “ the painter, Van Dyck.” The announcement caused a general agitation among the smiling group. Each one changed her position on her velvet seat, rearranged her dress and composing her countenance sought to give additional grace to her aspect. The young pupil of Rubens, albeit accustomed to the spirit of beauty, could not suppress a murmur of admiration at finding himself in the midst of this brilliant circle The old Duchess, supposing the young painter’s embarrassment to be caused by her own imposing appearance, to encourage him addressed him in these words : ‘ I am told that you have talent young man, ’ ‘Those who have so informed you do me too much honor, madame Doubtless, they judge mo by my intentions ; but I have as yet produced nothing worthy of attention. ’ There was as much confidence and noble pride in the reply of the painter as there had been arrogance and impertinence in tho address of the noble dame. Lucy, who possessed tho high spirit of her country, was shocked at the insolent tone of the Duchess, and now blushed with pleasure at the reply of Dan Dyck. As her soft eyes rested approvingly on h'a face he understood her feelings, and thanked her by a look for her generous sympathy. ‘Well, well, we shall see. Her Majesty wishes to renew the ornaments of her chapel; so you will bo fully employed. A residence will be assigned you in yonder monastery, where you will copy undisturbed, lu summer, also, you shall have a fit residence, besides a pension from the Government. This, I think, is paying an artist pretty well?’ ‘Art cannot be paid for, my lady Duchess, and if I purchase tho talents to which I aspire, the favors which you boast could not purchase them.’ * This is all very well—you are proud and we are noble, but, nevertheless, these honors are conditional- Sou will be chosen painter to the Queen if you succeed in gaining the prize which is offered for the moat perfect head of the Madonna.’ "j ‘ Ah ! madam, if tho patronage of her Majesty is'offered me only on those conditions I shall not obtain it.’ ‘ And why not ?’ ‘Because I shall not gain the prize,* replied he, with an expression of sadness which was instantly reflected on tho face of Lucy. * Why do you refuse this honor ? Do yon fear to fail ?’ ‘No, madam, but how shall I represent as she should bo represented, the mother of the Saviour ? Where shall I find a model ?’ A-8 he pronounced these words hia eyes

1 rested on the angelic face of Lucy. 4 1 have X hitherto sough t in vain the combination of t mildness, swee,tJ*es3, and candor which 1 should characterise’the Queen of Heaven.’ 3 The fire of genius Whidh’ illuminated the ' handsome countenance* of Van Dyck elicited s the admiration of all observers. f 4 Bnt I should imagine that there’ would bo no difficulty in obtaining models of ; painters.’ “The models which can be obtained for ■ hire are beautiful, without doubt. I have 1 sought in vain for the dignity and purity which I have never seen united but in a noble lady who would disdain to silfto a ppor . i artist.’ . ; The animated and ardent glance'»f Van ; Dyck embarrassed Lucy ; it told her that he I bad at last found the object his fancy, had depicted. The Duchess, however, t had not observed it, and asked : ‘ Who-is this noble lady ? ’ ‘ The- Virgin herself, madam ! ’ Bowing ' profoundly and giving a parting glance atLucy; he added ; ‘lf I gain the prize you . shall see me again, madam ; if not, I leave i England. ’ Ho took immediate possession of his apartments, where - he could at the same time pairit'hia Madonna and copy the fresooea'for the chapel. With his mind full of the celestial fate he had just seen, he seized his pencil and endeavored to trace her lineaments. But the extreme sensibility so useful to art when time has calmed it was now his chief obstacle. He felt too deeply"to succeed in expressing tbs idea which filled his soul. Tho day passed in fruitless attempt and the night surprised’ him, dissatisfied and despondent. In the meantime-Lucy had suffered severely for the preference '.shown -her by Van Dyck. The envy and jealousy of her companions found vent in impertinent sarcasm ; so that, on separating for the njght, her mind was filled with his idea, and after her nightly prayer, hia name was the last on her lips. It was midnight. The- heavens shone with a thousand sparkling stars, and a dark light spread itself on the old abbey, which stood solitary and alone among its ruins. A window of the palace opened, and a shadow passed slowly along the balcony and staircase, crossed along the court and reached the monastery. It would bo difficult to say how this figure had left the palace and penetrated so far ; but she must have been well acquainted with all the turnings, for in a short time she crossed the long avenue, and, arriving at one end of the galleries of the chapel, she found herself in the painter’s work-room, and, passing lightly on, seated herself, without looking around her, immediately in front of his easel. Oh, surprise! Oh, joy! this being, so calm, so beautiful, is Lucy! The desponding artist who had been unable to retrace her features on canvas now beheld a living model before hia eyes. What could have induced her to come? What idea could have given her tho courage and resolution f He threw himself on his knees before her, but Lucy, motioning him to rise, pointed to his pencil. Her look penetrated him with a flam® so pure that he forgot the reality of bis vision—his astonishment seemed to him a want of faith. Transported by his imagination to an ethereal sphere, ho seemed above tho earth and in the midst of the sublime concerts of angels j he bsheld Mary environed by divine rays. He was no longer the powerless artist who had just thrown at his feet his unsuccessful pencil—the artist ® replaced the man. Mute and breathless, inspired by mysterious strength, he seized his pa'ette. Bis colors gave the form and his soul the life—iu a few hours he created the most beautiful and the most pure of virgins. When the young girl saw that after trao- c ing her features he was occupied in imparting ’■ to his picture the soul which animated him, she rose silently, and with a calm and assured step left the monastery by the same road she had come. Van Dyck, with wondering eyes and oppressed breathing made not the slightest effort to detain her. In his eyes she was no longer mortal, and in her departure he thought he saw the Madonna returning to her native skies. Enchanted by his execu- 5 tion and excitement, he fell asleep in hie 1 arm-chair. On awakening, his first thought was to examine the canvas. Transported with joy at his success, he thanked, on his knees, the angel or woman who had so favoured him. In vain he endeavoured. * again to impart the ideality which existed in his imagination. Ho had] so combined the thoughts of the Madonna and of Lucy that he determined to discover the truth, and wroto the following billet to tho young girl:— 4 Tell me if you are indeed an angel; if yon do not wish to deprive of his senses the poor artist to whom you have condescended to appear this night, tell me if you are the Virgin or a mortal !’ It was part of the duty of the dowager duchess to open the billets addressed to the young ladies confided to her charge. What a was her astonishment at reading this v epistle !’ t( ‘ Horror !’ cried he. * A child of high family to violate her duty in seeking a painter at midnight!’ She rang and sent for the guilty one, but - her rage redoubled when Lucy, with her customary gentleness, denied all knowledge of tho cause of her reproaches. The duchess, who expected to witness in her great confusion 'or a candid avowal, would listen to nothing. Tho alarm was S given in the palace, and it was decided that tl Lucy, disgraced, should be seat home to her G father. L Her prayers were of no avail; a single night of respite was alone accorded to her, and she was compelled to sleep in the apartment of the duchess to avoid further scandal. * At midnight, Lucy rose as before; the duchess was roused from her unquiet n sleep, and called all the ladies to witness the V confirmation of her suspicions. With a 0 lighted flambeaux, the duchess, attended by a numerous suite, followed Lucy, who tra- ° versed again tbo long hall and numerous passages and arrived at the door of the monastery. Her culpability could no longer be doubted ; but they followed her even to tho painting-room, where she was already seated before the easel. The noise around her and 0 the brilliancy of tho lights awoke her in a fright. She was a somnambulist. Thus unconsciously had she served as a M model to th« artist, who fully repaid in love < what she bad given him in renown. He obtained the prize and was loaded down at tho court with honors and riches. A few days afterwards there was celebrated £ at St. Paul’s tho union of Van Dyck and Lucy, tho daughter of the noble Count Ruthven.