the purcell papers-2-第19章

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the　desolate　mourner　was　gone　to　that

land　where　the　pangs　of　grief；　the　tumults

of　passion；　regrets　and　cold　neglect；　are

felt　no　more。　I　leant　over　the　lifeless　face；

and　scanned　the　beautiful　features　which；

living；　had　wrought　such　magic　on　all　that

looked　upon　them。　They　were；　indeed；

much　wasted；　but　it　was　impossible　for

the　fingers　of　death　or　of　decay　altogether

to　obliterate　the　traces　of　that　exquisite

beauty　which　had　so　distinguished　her。

As　I　gazed　on　this　most　sad　and　striking

spectacle；　remembrances　thronged　fast　upon

my　mind；　and　tear　after　tear　fell　upon　the

cold　form　that　slept　tranquilly　and　for　ever。



A　few　days　afterwards　I　was　told　that　a

funeral　had　left　the　Lodge　at　the　dead　of

night；　and　had　been　conducted　with　the

most　scrupulous　secrecy。　It　was；　of　course；

to　me　no　mystery。



Heathcote　lived　to　a　very　advanced　age；

being　of　that　hard　mould　which　is　not

easily　impressionable。　The　selfish　and　the

hard…hearted　survive　where　nobler；　more

generous；　and；　above　all；　more　sympathising

natures　would　have　sunk　for　ever。



Dwyer　certainly　succeeded　in　extorting；

I　cannot　say　how；　considerable　and　advantageous

leases　from　Colonel　O'Mara；　but

after　his　death　he　disposed　of　his　interest

in　these；　and　having　for　a　time　launched

into　a　sea　of　profligate　extravagance；　he

became　bankrupt；　and　for　a　long　time　I

totally　lost　sight　of　him。



The　rebellion　of　'98；　and　the　events

which　immediately　followed；　called　him

forth　from　his　lurking…places；　in　the

character　of　an　informer；　and　I　myself　have

seen　the　hoary…headed；　paralytic　perjurer；

with　a　scowl　of　derision　and　defiance；　brave

the　hootings　and　the　execrations　of　the

indignant　multitude。









STRANGE　EVENT　IN　THE　LIFE　OF　SCHALKEN　THE　PAINTER。



Being　a　Seventh　Extract　from　the　Legacy　of　the　late

Francis　Purcell；　P。　P。　of　Drumcoolagh。



You　will　no　doubt　be　surprised；

my　dear　friend；　at　the　subject　of

the　following　narrative。　What

had　I　to　do　with　Schalken；　or　Schalken

with　me？　He　had　returned　to　his　native

land；　and　was　probably　dead　and　buried；

before　I　was　born；　I　never　visited　Holland

nor　spoke　with　a　native　of　that　country。

So　much　I　believe　you　already　know。　I

must；　then；　give　you　my　authority；　and

state　to　you　frankly　the　ground　upon

which　rests　the　credibility　of　the　strange

story　which　I　am；　about　to　lay　before

you。



I　was　acquainted；　in　my　early　days；

with　a　Captain　Vandael；　whose　father　had

served　King　William　in　the　Low　Countries；

and　also　in　my　own　unhappy　land　during

the　Irish　campaigns。　I　know　not　how　it

happened　that　I　liked　this　man's　society；

spite　of　his　politics　and　religion：　but　so　it

was；　and　it　was　by　means　of　the　free

intercourse　to　which　our　intimacy　gave

rise　that　I　became　possessed　of　the　curious

tale　which　you　are　about　to　hear。



I　had　often　been　struck；　while　visiting

Vandael；　by　a　remarkable　picture；　in

which；　though　no　connoisseur　myself；　I

could　not　fail　to　discern　some　very　strong

peculiarities；　particularly　in　the　distribu…

tion　of　light　and　shade；　as　also　a　certain

oddity　in　the　design　itself；　which　interested

my　curiosity。　It　represented　the　interior

of　what　might　be　a　chamber　in　some

antique　religious　buildingthe　foreground

was　occupied　by　a　female　figure；　arrayed

in　a　species　of　white　robe；　part　of　which　is

arranged　so　as　to　form　a　veil。　The　dress；

however；　is　not　strictly　that　of　any　religious

order。　In　its　hand　the　figure　bears

a　lamp；　by　whose　light　alone　the　form　and

face　are　illuminated；　the　features　are

marked　by　an　arch　smile；　such　as　pretty

women　wear　when　engaged　in　successfully

practising　some　roguish　trick；　in　the

background；　and；　excepting　where　the　dim　red

light　of　an　expiring　fire　serves　to　define

the　form；　totally　in　the　shade；　stands　the

figure　of　a　man　equipped　in　the　old　fashion；

with　doublet　and　so　forth；　in　an　attitude

of　alarm；　his　hand　being　placed　upon　the

hilt　of　his　sword；　which　he　appears　to　be

in　the　act　of　drawing。



'There　are　some　pictures；'　said　I　to　my

friend；　'which　impress　one；　I　know　not

how；　with　a　conviction　that　they　represent

not　the　mere　ideal　shapes　and　combinations

which　have　floated　through　the　imagination

of　the　artist；　but　scenes；　faces；　and

situations　which　have　actually　existed。　When

I　look　upon　that　picture；　something　assures

me　that　I　behold　the　representation　of　a

reality。'



Vandael　smiled；　and；　fixing　his　eyes　upon

the　painting　musingly；　he　said：



'Your　fancy　has　not　deceived　you；　my

good　friend；　for　that　picture　is　the　record；

and　I　believe　a　faithful　one；　of　a　remarkable

and　mysterious　occurrence。　It　was

painted　by　Schalken；　and　contains；　in　the

face　of　the　female　figure；　which　occupies

the　most　prominent　place　in　the　design；　an

accurate　portrait　of　Rose　Velderkaust；　the

niece　of　Gerard　Douw；　the　first　and；　I

believe；　the　only　love　of　Godfrey　Schalken。

My　father　knew　the　painter　well；　and　from

Schalken　himself　he　learned　the　story　of

the　mysterious　drama；　one　scene　of　which

the　picture　has　embodied。　This　painting；

which　is　accounted　a　fine　specimen　of

Schalken's　style；　was　bequeathed　to　my

father　by　the　artist's　will；　and；　as　you

have　observed；　is　a　very　striking　and

interesting　production。'



I　had　only　to　request　Vandael　to　tell

the　story　of　the　painting　in　order　to　be

gratified；　and　thus　it　is　that　I　am　enabled

to　submit　to　you　a　faithful　recital　of　what

I　heard　myself；　leaving　you　to　reject　or　to

allow　the　evidence　upon　which　the　truth

of　the　tradition　depends；　with　this　one

assurance；　that　Schalken　was　an　honest；

blunt　Dutchman；　and；　I　believe；　wholly

incapable　of　committing　a　flight　of

imagination；　and　further；　that　Vandael；　from

whom　I　heard　the　story；　appeared　firmly

convinced　of　its　truth。



There　are　few　forms　upon　which　the

mantle　of　mystery　and　romance　could

seem　to　hang　more　ungracefully　than

upon　that　of　the　uncouth　and　clownish

Schalkenthe　Dutch　boorthe　rude　and

dogged；　but　most　cunning　worker　in　oils；

whose　pieces　delight　the　initiated　of　the

present　day　almost　as　much　as　his　manners

disgusted　the　refined　of　his　own；　and　yet

this　man；　so　rude；　so　dogged；　so　slovenly；

I　had　almost　said　so　savage；　in　mien　and

manner；　during　his　after　successes；　had

been　selected　by　the　capricious　goddess；　in

his　early　life；　to　figure　as　the　hero　of　a

romance　by　no　means　devoid　of　interest　or

of　mystery。



Who　can　tell　how　meet　he　may　have

been　in　his　young　days　to　play　the　part　of

the　lover　or　of　the　herowho　can　say　that

in　early　life　he　had　been　the　same　harsh；

unlicked；　and　rugged　boor　that；　in　his

maturer　age；　he　provedor　how　far　the

neglected　rudeness　which　afterwards

marked　his　air；　and　garb；　and　manners；

may　not　have　been　the　growth　of　that

reckless　apathy　not　unfrequently　produced

by　bitter　misfortunes　and　disappointments

in　early　life？



These　questions　can　never　now　be　answered。



We　must　content　ourselves；　then；

with　a　plain　statement　of　facts；　or　what

have　been　received　and　transmitted　as

such；　leaving　matters　of　speculation　to

those　who　like　them。



When　Schalken　studied　under　the

immortal　Gerard　Douw；　he　was　a　young

man；　and　in　spite　of　the　phlegmatic

constitution　and　unexcitable　manner　which　he

shared；　we　believe；　with　his　countrymen；

he　was　not　incapable　of　deep　and　vivid

impressions；　for　it　is　an　established　fact　that

the　young　painter　looked　with　considerable

interest　upon　the　beautiful　niece　of　his

wealthy　master。



Rose　Velderkaust　was　very　young；

having；　at　the　period　of　which　we　speak；

not　yet　attained　her　seventeenth　year；　and；

if　tradition　speaks　truth；　possessed　all　the

soft　dimpling　charms　of　the　fail；　light…

haired　Flemish　maidens。　Schalken　had

not　studied　long　in　the　school　of　Gerard

Douw；　when　he　felt　this　interest　deepening

into　someth