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beyond measure ; his château, so cheerful “Why did I sell the château ?" said he before, became sombre and comfortless; with bitterness. “ There I should have Nature, his ordinary teacher, spoke to him been, in some sort, nearer to my dear Anne. now of nothing but Anne Breughel. His In those old favorite haunts I might still, marriage-contract compelling him to give in imagination, have seen and heard her.” up everything on the death of his wife, The next day he could not refrain from the painter found himself, by this calamity, returning to Perck. The château was then suddenly reduced to poverty. His child in the possession of a wealthy retired coundren would not have allowed the clauses sellor, named De Fresne. The latter, of the contract to be executed in their meeting Teniers in the neighborhood, and favor ; but Teniers, in spite of the en- recognizing him, begged him to accomtreaties of his friends, resolved to strip pany him to his old home, and consider himself of everything in the very year of himself still its master. The counsellor her death ; saying that “ he would never presented him to his daughter, Isabelle de consent to live upon the property of or Fresne. She was young and fair, and had phans.” The château changed owners, and the same tender and simple look as Anne he retired to Brussels. Here he lived a Breughel. Teniers was delighted with solitary life, turning his thoughts unceas her. She painted a little ; Teniers offered ingly to the remembrance of his dear Anne, to give her a lesson. A shower of rain and devoting himself to the practices of began to fall, and the advocate gladly took religion, and to watching over the progress advantage of the circumstance to detain of his children at college.
his guest. The poor painter almost beThough living now in the most humble lieved himself living again in his anstyle, he had been compelled to retain one cient splendor. The sweet face of Anne of his horses--all his pictures being the Breughel was missing ; but Isabelle de result of short journeys into the country. Fresne was not wanting in charms. On these excursions, he had several times “What a pity,” said his host, over the revisited Perck, wandering in the neigh dessert, “ that you should have taken into borhood of the château, and lingering over your head to leave the château! It was its associations of love and fame. One to increase the patrimony of your children, evening he noticed, through the railing of I am aware ; but that appears to me to be the grounds of the château, a young lady carrying paternal affection too far. Such walking in the garden, whose face bore a genius as yours should have a palace for several points of resemblance to that of
an abode." Anne Breughel. In his surprise, he let “ Nature is my palace,” replied the fall the reins upon the neck of his horse, artist, casting at the same time a wistful which began to bite at the hanging branches look at the gilded panels of the Château of a willow. His eyes followed involun- des Trois Tours. tarily the apparition, which seemed to him “ My greatest pleasure, Monsieur Teto be a dream of the past. In a moment, niers," said the counsellor, “would be to the young lady disappeared by a retired see you here all the fine season." pathway leading to the château. Teniers “Ah," said Teniers, “ I should be too continued musing, looking now toward the happy to live in such good and fair solake, and now toward the spot where she ciety, but my fête-days are past. Once had vanished. My poor Anne, you are I was not only a painter, but a fine gendead to me,” he exclaimed. “No, you are tleman; now I am only a painter. All not dead. I see you everywhere—under my pleasures now are associated with my these trees, at yonder window, beside that pallet. I shall continue to depict scenes lake where we have walked so often." of happiness, but it will be the happiness
While musing thus, the poor painter did of others.” So saying, Teniers regarded not perceive that his horse, which had also Isabelle tenderly. The young lady blushhis reminiscences, had begun to take the ed, and turned the conversation into another road to the stables. Upon the bridge, he channel. drew up the reins again, and said, sighing : The next morning, Teniers rose at day“ No, no, my trusty friend; we have no break to return to Brussels. While his longer any right to be here.” That day, horse was feeding, he took a stroll through Teniers returned to his solitary home more one of his favorite haunts upon the borders sad than usual.
of the lake. It was a clear, fresh morn
ing; a light wind was slowly moving the wife was abroad in the garden, or in the mists along the fields of Vilvorde ; the walks in the neighborhood. The woman country, refreshed with the rain of the -by force of habit, no doubt-dressed her night before, filled the air with sweet new mistress exactly like her previous odors; and the sun, just risen, touched the one : there was the same arrangement of glittering tree-tops and the towers of the the hair, the same cap, the same lace, the château. Arnold Houbraken relates this identical colors. Teniers, meeting this story. Teniers was leaning against the living reminiscence sometimes upon the trunk of a tree, surveying the lake and the stairs, or in the dusky passages of the old château, lost in thought, when suddenly château, would imagine himself in a dream. raising his eyes toward the window where More than once, on kissing the hand of he had often seen Anne Breughel looking Isabelle de Fresne, the old time seemed to out on fine evenings, her image appeared him to have come back again. Every day there as if by enchantment. “It is she, he discovered some new point of resemwith her light hair falling in curls," he blance, Last night, it was her hand ; toexclaimed. “It is the same sweet face, day, it is her foot; to-morrow, she will so full of beauty and innocence." But in sing, and her voice will be the very counanother moment he recognized Isabelle de terpart of Anne Breughel's. Never was Fresne. " Alas!” he exclaimed, “ it is illusion more perfect at all points. not she; and yet”
“What ails you, my friend ?" asked his He returned to the château, mounted host one day, surprised at his absent and his horse, and rode away slowly. All that anxious look. “Does not our way of life week he did nothing well. He attempted please you ?" to paint from memory a portrait of Isabelle “ Yes,” said Teniers ; “it is nothingde Fresne, and failed; and yet, when it a passing recollection-a momentary rewas but half-finished, the face had seemed gret. It is gone now.” to remind him at the same time both of One evening, after sunset, he was sitting Anne Breughel and Isabelle de Fresne. again upon the ground beside the little These two delightful images were forever lake, idly brushing the tall water-grasses present to his mind; he sought to divert with his feet. Isabelle and her servant his thoughts from them, afraid of falling passed him in the pleasure-boat. The in love again. He made a journey into light vail of evening falling upon land and France, and even set out for Italy ; but water confirmed the painter's misty revhe had scarcely arrived at Lyons, when erie; he was no longer master of himself, his new passion compelled him to retrace as in the broad daylight. The head of his steps. On his return, he found a let- the skiff grazed lightly on the bank, and ter from the counsellor, complaining of he rushed forward. his neglect.
" Anne! Anne !” he exclaimed, when “ Come, my dear Teniers,” he wrote ; they found themselves alone. “Pardon “the very peasants are anxious to see me—Isabelle, I meant," continued he, falltheir old master again ; and my daughter ing at her feet, in the chivalrous fashion Isabelle finds that, even from such a skills of the times. ful master as you, a single lesson in paint “Well,”
,” said she, carried away by his ing is not enough.”
manner,“ Anne Breughel, if you will.” It Teniers started immediately for Perck. may be easily imagined that the young The counsellor pressed him to pass the Isabelle, perhaps a little romantic, had remainder of the season at the château. secretly loved Teniers ; that, touched by The painter accepted his invitation, and his sorrow for Anne Breughel, she had boldly installed himself there, hardly sure undertaken the task of consoling him, that it was not more dangerous to fly coming by degrees, by means of these from the presence of Isabelle, than to see illusions, to take the place of his adored her continually.
wife. It happened-accidentally, no doubt Three weeks afterward, Teniers marthat the young lady had for an attendant ried the daughter of the counsellor. He one of the femmes-de-chambre of Anne returned to the château, and took again Breughel. This was another illusion for to his old way of life. Isabelle de Fresne, the painter, who, when he met her, found charmed by the simplicity of his genius, himself often about to ask her whether his and his noble manners, remained devoted
FROM THE GERMAX OF KINKEL.
to him till the time of her death. She to foot, and passed his hands over his knew that her greatest charm for him was, eyes. “Do you see that doleful dance ?that she reminded him of his first wife. all their mirth is gone now. Old Nicholas Far from complaining, or feeling vexed on Söest is nothing but a skeleton. Look that account, she took pains to acquire how he whirls, and whirls, and whirls in the habits of Anne Breughel, with the the dusk—all hastening to the churchgenerous intention of pleasing her hus- yard. They are gone! Farewell, fareband. Teniers, in his turn, delighted with well, my friends. Call my servant-it is having found so sweet a companion, loved time to go!" her for her own, and for Anne Breughel's These were, as nearly as possible, the sake.
last words of the laborious painter of naThe painter survived his second wife, ture. In obedience to his wish, the son and died at the age of upward of eighty. had his remains deposited in the choir of After her death, he returned to Brussels the church of Perck, under that tower again, and lived in strict retirement, de- which, in his pictures, stands forth against voted to his art. One of his sons, a Fran
so many horizons. ciscan monk at Malines, held him in his arms as he breathed his last. For the convent at Malines, he painted his “ Nine
HUMANITY. teen Martyrs of Gorcum.” The son has left a biography of his father, interspersed
Upon the hoary earth already with orisons and litanies ; the only inter Have countless nations been enrollid, esting portion is the end, in which he de And holocausts to gods been offer'd, scribes the death of the great painter.
Enthroned on altars manifold. Already in a state of unconsciousness,
Again the pious will hereafter David Teniers only spoke at long inter To God still fairer altars build, vals. In the middle of the night, after a And sorrows yet unknown be suffer'd, painful sigh, he took the hand of his son
And with new joys the heart be fill'd. with agitation : "See you, yonder ?-yon It blinds me not! With love's affection der !” he exclaimed. He saw, no doubt,
The strife of time I gaze upon, passing in his mind, all the curious crea
'Mid changing destinies and nations tions of his pencil. The Franciscan look
Humanity rolls smoothly on. ed in the direction which he indicated. I know that ne'er a day hath broken “ I see nothing, father.”
Which gladden'd not one single breast;
That ne'er a spring hath follow'd winter “ Do you see,” continued the painter,
But with a song the world it bless'd. without heeding his reply, " the alchemist in that laboratory, meditating? He turns
I know that from the goblet's torrent
Conceptions vast, creative, rise ; toward me to bid me farewell. Farewell,
I know that in a woman's kisses then! What did I say? It is a drinker A gentle fount of vigor lies. there are two-three-four-the odor of their ale rises to my head. O the deep
I know that everywhere the heavens
Now darkly frown, now smile so bright, politicians ! these are the men who trans
That everywhere an eye believing port our Flanders into Spain. The drunk Beholds the starry host by night. ards! it is merely that they may drink
Thus 't is the same, the same forever, from glasses overflowing with Malaga.
That thrills through every human breast; My son, stop that boor from smoking, who I see but brothers wheresoever has nothing to say apropos. I hear his Mine eyes upon the earthball rest. pipe snap. No; it is the violin of poor
A link of that great chain which bindeth old Nicholas Söest. There is a fair, then, The future to the past am I; in Perck to-day. Open the window, and
I snatch from out the struggling surges let me hear their cries better. Take care,
The jewel of humanity. Margaret! Look at that sly chemist. The old dotard! It is a good thing, indeed, to CHANGE of time, like change of place, have gray hairs. I like your violin, Mas- introduces men to new associates, and ter Söest; but what are you playing there? gives many persons an opportunity to beO my son—my son! look there ! this is
come respected by outliving those who fearful indeed!"
knew them when they were not respectThe dying painter shuddered from head | able.
THE phenomena of a brilliant sun and garden front, and descending a flight or a
us an expedition to the Crystal Palace at race, along which runs a gravel walk fifty Sydenham. We catch a distant view of feet in width, and exceeding in length that the building almost as soon as we glide of the entire building. From this upper out of the Brighton railway station, and terrace three broad Alights of steps lead know it immediately, though it appears down to a lower and larger one, whose but an undefined gray spot upon the sum- area is not much less than thirteen acres, mit of a hill six or seven miles off, by the which is about equal to that occupied by flashing reflection of the sun's rays from the palace itself. It is laid out in walks its coating of glass. A ride of some half- and flower-beds, after the manner of an hour brings us to the Annerley station, Italian garden, and ornamented with six whence we have to climb the hill for fountains of novel design, symmetrically another mile ere arriving at our destina- arranged. On either side of the central tion. As we advance, the proportions of flight of steps leading from the upper to the building come gradually into view, and, the lower terrace, and in front of the grand long before reaching the level upon which central transept, two pairs of colossal it stands, we are struck with the immense sphinxes, reposing upon ponderous basesuperiority of such a site for such a struc- ments of granite, look out with stony eyes ture compared with that occupied by the upon a glorious English landscape, stretchbuilding of 1851 in Hyde-park.
ed far away before them, and fading out We enter, with other visitors, in the gradually in the misty atmosphere of disrear of the edifice ; and desirous, before tance. These sphinxes are close and an examination of its contents, of contem- faithful copies of the Egyptian original plating its appearance and effect as viewed now at Paris, and are placed with adfrom its own grounds, we cross to the mirable effect on their present site. De
scending the slope yet further, and verging the size of a hippopotamus, and by his to the right among natural mounds and side the frog of the fable has actually swo!declivities, planted with flowering shrubs len to the dimensions of the ox. Here and evergreens, with here and there a are creatures with the body of a duck, the noble tree whose spreading branches yield fins or flappers of a phoca, the neck of a a welcome shade in summer, we arrive at boa-constrictor, and the head of a crocoa point of view favorable for a glance at dile. Here is the ichthyosaurus, clothed the entire structure of the palace. We with his invulnerable armor, and furnished feel at the first impression the justice of with his screw-propeller tail. Here is the the universal praise which has been award- lordly elk standing erect among a congreed to the improved design. The reduction gation of prostrate lizards of colossal lonof two hundred and forty feet in the length gitude. Here are ravenous-looking leviaenables the spectator to embrace the whole thans of the alligator family, with jaws building within the compass of his vision, above a yard in length, bristling with without withdrawing to a distance too countless fangs as large as fingers-togreat for observation of its details. It is gether with monsters which we cannot true that much of the idea of vastness is pretend to name, and which Adam nerer lost; but if that be a loss,—though we are named at all, (belonging as they did to an inclined to think it is not,-ample amends antecedent period,) of shapeless form and are made by the imposing spectacle of hideous aspect. Here, too, is the stupenjust, elegant, and grand proportions—ele- dous iguanodon, in whose body a score of ments to which, notwithstanding its super- gentlemen met to dinner. Professor Owen, lative merits of adaptation to a specific it is reported, did the honors of the table, purpose, the building in Hyde-park had and seasoned the substantial fare with a but little pretension. The erection of three colloquial lecture on the subject of antetransepts in place of one, the noble ele- diluvian remains. He dwelt briefly on the vation of the central transept, and the sub- discoveries of Cuvier and John Hunter, stitution of an arched roof for a flat one and of Buckland, who, from a single tooth, along the entire length of the nave, alto- constructed the megalosaurus; and at the gether have, by replacing parallel lines close of his remarks proposed as an approand sharp angles by flowing lines and priate toast the memory of Mantell, the graceful curves, entirely altered the char- discoverer of the iguanodon—a toast which acter of the general outline. The result is a was received in mournful silence. These structure upon which the eye loves to rest, strange monsters, suggestive as they are and toward which it instinctively turns so of the history of the earth ere its inhabitlong as the object is in sight. From either ants were subjected to the mastery of end of the building, wings bearing the ap- mankind, will form one of the most striking pearance of conservatories, and termin- and significant of the numberless attracating in square towers, project forward tions of the new palace, and will render sufficiently far to embrace the whole of the valuable assistance to the study of geterraces, which are thus partially inclosed ology. from the rest of the grounds. Into one Water, whether in motion or at rest, of these wings the railway from London forms a principal feature as well in the runs, and thus discharges its passengers palace itself as in the delightful gardens beneath the roof of the palace.
mapped out before it. The ornamental The grand avenue, which may be said fountains spout water to a great height, to terminate between the sphinxes in front and, in order to effect this, water is pumped of the central transept, extends in a straight into tanks placed on the summit of the line down the entire slope of the park to lofty towers at either end of the building. a distance of two thousand feet,--some- The outer casing of the towers being formthing more than a third of a mile.
ed of hollow cast-iron columns, the water We follow mechanically a party of vis- descending through them supplies the jets itors who are making their way toward a of the fountains. These towers also serve long, low building in the lower grounds, the purpose of chimneys to the furnaces and, being courteously admitted, find our used for heating the water required for selves in the presence of a portentous warming the building in cold weather ; group of monsters terrific to behold. Here and further, being fitted with a spiral stair is what seems a common toad amplified to rising to the height of nearly two hundred