Читать книгу The Life and Exploits of the Scarlet Pimpernel - Emmuska Orczy - Страница 4
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The first pages of this man’s book of life, whose name is chronicled in history in the first quarter of the seventeenth century, are almost blank. Whence he came, who was his sire, only he and a poor artist know, and they kept their secret for over thirty years. There is his portrait in the Wallace Collection in London, but from it nothing can be guessed. Records are scant and documents not always reliable. Gaps can only be bridged over by stray reminisces, a promissory note yellow with age, a faded doublet in an old chest, a rusty sword hanging over a mirror. But in Haarlem, where he undoubtedly lived, the Grootemarkt had heard his spurs clanking on the cobbles, the Dam Straat had listened to his mighty laugh, the waters of the Spaarne had shuddered at his furious oaths and the Fishmarkt had echoed to the clash of his sword.
The burghers of Haarlem spoke of him under the nickname of Diogenes, there being a blessing and a warm welcome for the nameless adventurer wherever he should happen to be. And the name was a fitting one; for Diogenes, when some adventure had filled his purse, would dispense philosophy and wine with equal largesse. Unfortunately, those happy occasions were rare. The open air was his usual bedroom and the hedgerows his dining-table. During those early years the only certainty is his friendship with Frans Hals: his only settled occupation we know anything about is that of artist’s model. Between two mad escapades or when in hiding from revengeful pursuit, Diogenes found food and shelter in the artist’s attic until it was safe enough for him to venture forth again in quest of money or adventure.
That this man — Diogenes, the Laughing Cavalier, call him what you will — was a vagabond, no one could deny; that he sold his sword to the highest bidder, everybody could condone; that he drank and swore and swaggered and discoursed, no one cared; that he was a very gallant gentleman, everyone must affirm. But wherever the steps of Destiny led this soldier of fortune, whether it was into a dungeon or a beggar’s hovel, or into a palace or the council chamber of kings, a laugh reverberates at his passing.
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From the picture by Frans Hals, his features are familiar to the world. Change the hat for a powdered wig; replace the doublet with a satin coat and the ruff for a filmy neck-tie; then raze the arrogant moustache and you have the portrait of the Scarlet Pimpernel, every feature faithfully reproduced and, on comparison with the painting by Gainsborough of Sir Percy Blakeney, the two men might be twin brothers. The ancestry is patent to all eyes. Both were men of exceptional personality, possessing exceptional characteristics which their friends pronounced sublime and their detractors arrogant, possessing qualities which called forth the devotion of friends and the rancor of enemies. There is no doubt but that the Laughing Cavalier—Diogenes—possessed the same sunny disposition, the same careless insouciance, the same infectious laughter and adventurous spirit which is to be observed, transmitted to his descendants in the personality of the Scarlet Pimpernel himself.
These are proofs enough for those who admire and love Sir Percy Blakeney. The romantic events of the lives of the two men seem to be too parallel to admit of mere coincidence; the personalities are too akin not to be based on heredity. But for the biographer, the gap of nearly two hundred years must be accounted for, and when the search for evidence began, the connecting links were piled one on top of the other, turning doubt into certitude. The Dutch vagabond was seen to be the great-great-grandfather of the English gentleman in direct line from father to son without break or bar sinister. Nor is there the slightest inconsistency in the known chronicles of the family fortunes to make one pause or consider whether the facts and documents are specious enough to be believed.
Clotho had drawn the thread of this man’s life from the same distaff as that of John Blake of Blakeney, in the county of Sussex, Diogenes’ father, and this is the thread which joins the vagabond who swaggered and fought in Holland in 1625 to the dandy who adventured in France in 1792.
