The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1852-05-29

ton and charm the feelings, combined
to lend his first love and wife, Anne
Brcughcl, that inehable scinationwhich
spoke in after life, from the tomb, in
new form.
By the death of Anne, he was destined,
not onl y to mourn the loss of all those
happy associations which her love had
drawn around him; but to sink deep into
the abyss of mere worldly suffering and
comparative poverty. Anne, at the
period OF their marriage, was a wealthy
heirrss. Tcnicrs had naught, save his
skill, TO depend upon, and consequently
all their JOINT property had prospective
ly been settled upon the children. Te-
nlers might have evaded this agreement,
and in spite of its acquisitions almost
conscieniiously have retained where
withal 10 live happily. But this be re-
fused to DO. His children, themselves,
were in tears, at this stern resolution to
do them no injustice, and all his friends
and relatives, including those Of Anne,
demonstrated. But he had for all,
uniform reply.
81 will not live on the property Of
orphans!"
In very few months, his entire pro-
perty, his plate and arms, his richly en-
broidered hangings, and costly works Of
art, including Of course, his favourlte
Castle of the Three Towers. was sold,
the price to be paid, with interest, TO his
children, when they should attain their
majority. OF all he had once called his
own, Tenlers retained only horse, Tor
he felt that he could never relinquish his
singular and favourite custom, of riding
! forth OF morning to observe life and ma
ture, and gather material for the picture
which he intended painting after din
ner.
And, having mentioned this habit,
the reader will excuse Inc, if pause for
an instant 10 record, from one of the ar
lists most enthusiastic biographcrs, an
anecdote relative to it. Such was the
incredible facility of his execution, that
a vast number ofhis pictures are termed
suffer- dinner pieces" because they were
begun and finished in the same evening.
One day he had strolled with Don John
Of Austria, to gay kermessc or village
festival. The Prince, we are told, re-
turned, charmed with all he had wit
messed, and talking necessarily, not only
of the JcyIal nerriment, but more par
ticularly Of IA very pretty tavern girl,
whose attractions had fascinated his eve.
After supper Don John retired, as did
Tenirrs-the fos mer to his couch, the
latter to his easel. But what was the
surprise Of Don John, when he saw, the
next m' rning, on waking, directly be-
fore his bed, the entire scene Of the Ter
messe, painted with striking fidelity.
Nor had the pretty girl of the caJaret
been forgotten-''she smiled upon her
admirer with pearly teeth and rosy lips,
worthy of smiling elsewhere than in a
Flemish tavern"
But now, farewell 10 all these bvgone
and beautiful days. He now no longer
studied dances and taverns from the
window of his carriage, as it was once
said OF him, IN contrast with Drawer
who lived and drank with his models
He could not even occasionally deign to
pour out, "with white and disdainfuI
hand" to some Flemish boor; fol
what had been noble condescension
in the great lord would, in the reduced
artist, become mere boon. companion
ship. He fled to Brussels, and lived long
only for the memory Of his dead Anne
for Religion and ART. Reduced to pow.
erty, his pictures also fell in value, we
are told, to half price. with the grano
ejgneur, men had not dared to drive a
bargain; but with the poor artist, they
only feared lest they should offer toe
much"
Yet the shadows of The Three Tow.
ers ever fell darkly and solemnly, yet
pleasantly, upon his soul. Not even
the shades of the grave were so cold and
refreshing, though he was alone in the
world; tol he looked not forward to the
tomb as the spot where he should again
wed, in death, the loved one passed
away. A strange presentiment ever
haunted him that he should again heal
the music of that voice, again gaze with
undying love into those infinite eyes
which were blue seas of soul and beauty,
again feel the clasp of that hand, which
now pressed his heart only in troubled,
fearful dreams, and this not only in the
endless Land ofLight which lies beyond
Death, but here, in the busy world Of
cities and men.
Reader, have known one who had
but little fear of midnight spectres and
graveyard phantasms, but who nourished
at heart an intxpressble horror at the
thought lest he should some day meet
in the full glare of sunlight, and amid the
hustle of daily, active life, those whom
he had once known, but who were now
departed. But it was with no sentiment
of horror or supernatural awe t hat this