playing a game of her own under the rose; quite as cunningly as the
politic nobles and astute churchmen of her brother's court. Two of
the applicants for her hand were quickly disposed of. She would not
think of the old King of Portugal, who might as well be her father as
her husband. George of Clarence, another of her suitors, had acquired
a reputation of ferocity in the wars of York and Lancaster that put
him out of the question. There remained only Charles and Ferdinand
as subjects of deliberate consideration. She privately dispatched
her chaplain, a man of entire trust, called Alonzo de Coca, with
instructions to repair to the court of France on some pretended object
of business or pleasure, and seek out the Duc de Guienne, and carefully
make inquiries concerning him, and then return through Aragon to do
the same with regard to Don Fernando, so as to bring back a full and
faithful report to his mistress. He gave Doña Isabel a complete account
of the appearance and habits of both princes, relating in how many
things the Prince of Aragon excelled the Duke of Guienne. Don Fernando,
he said, was in countenance and proportion of person very handsome,
and of noble air and manner, and apt in every knightly exercise or
princely deed. The Duke of Guienne, on the contrary, he said, was weak
and effeminate, with legs so small as to be altogether deformed, and
with weeping eyes already sinking into blindness, so that, ere long,
he would stand more in need of a page to lead him by the hand, than of
horse and lance for the battle-field or tournament.
Doña Isabel instantly came to a right conclusion upon what course to
pursue, resolving to bestow her virgin heart and young affections
upon a prince worthy of her choice, instead of giving over her person
to caducity and deformity, to accommodate the ambitious projects of
scheming statesmen. The Archbishop having a perfect understanding with
the gentlemen of her household, Don Gonzalo Chacon and Don Gutierre
de Cardenas, a private correspondence with Isabel was commenced and
carried on for some time unsuspected, and she finally accepted a
rich collar of gems and pearls sent her by Don Fernando, with other
suitable presents, and consented to become his bride.
Doña Isabel resided at this time in Ocaña, whither she and the king
had been conducted by Don Juan Pacheco, in order that they might be
completely in his hands, it being a place subject to his control as
master of Santiago. Hither Don Henrique summoned the Cortez, in order
that the compact of Los Toros de Guisando might be carried into effect,
and Doña Isabel recognized by the estates of the realm as heiress of
Castile and Leon. Beginning, however, to fluctuate in his intention,
and receiving tidings of disturbances in Andalusia which rendered his
presence necessary there, he left Ocaña before anything was done, after
compelling Doña Isabel to swear that "_she would not undertake any
novelty respecting her marriage_ during his absence."
As Doña Isabel had already engaged to espouse Don Fernando, although
Don Henrique knew it not, her clerical counsellors persuaded her
that she might conscientiously swear not to "undertake _any novelty_
respecting her marriage," and that she ought to do so, to lull the
suspicions of Don Henrique and the master. But no sooner had these last
departed from Ocaña, than the conspirators, if so they may be termed,
proceeded with all possible dispatch to conclude the marriage, and so
place themselves beyond the resentment of the king and the manœuvres of
Don Juan.
Doña Isabel was first conveyed to Madrigal, where her mother then
lived, it being given out that her object was to remove her brother's
body from Arevalo, and superintend the interment of it at Avila. Uneasy
at her leaving Ocaña, and suspecting all was not right, the master now
took measures for possessing himself of her person; but the Archbishop
and Don Fadrique, getting intelligence of his designs, mustered a party
of their friends, and conducted her in all haste to Valladolid, which
was wholly at the devotion of the Admiral. As the Marquis of Villena
was now on his guard, and ready to take any desperate step to secure
the disputed prize, the friends of Doña Isabel saw that no time was to
be lost in deliberation. Everything had been previously arranged, so
far as it could be, preliminary to the marriage, a dispensation having
been procured from the Pope, and Don Fernando having been raised by
his father to the dignity of King of Sicily to make him better worthy
of Doña Isabel. Nothing remained but that Don Fernando should come to
Valladolid, and espouse the Infanta; and this was a task of greater
difficulty than at first sight it would seem.
The management of the affair was intrusted to Don Gutierre de Cardenas
and Don Alonzo de Palencia, the latter a gentleman attached to the
Archbishop. They counted upon the Bishop of Osma, Don Pedro Montoya, to
furnish one hundred and fifty lances, and Don Louis de la Cerda, the
Count of Medinaceli, five hundred, which, with three or four hundred
more to be procured from other sources, they deemed a sufficient
escort to insure the safety of Don Fernando. But when Cardenas and
Palencia reached Osma on their way to Zaragoza, they learnt to their
consternation that the Bishop and the Conde de Medinaceli, with the
usual levity of the Castilian nobles of that day, had deserted the
party of Doña Isabel, and joined that of the master. The whole frontier
was held by the powerful bands of Mendoza, who occupied with their
retainers and connections all the castles along the line from Almazan
to Guadalajara. Cardenas and Palencia became convinced that it was now
impossible for Don Fernando to enter Castile openly, and that, unless
they could succeed by some ingenious stratagem, the whole object, for
which they had labored so long and so earnestly, would be utterly
and perhaps forever defeated. They determined to make a bold push to
overmatch the machinations of their enemies.
Concealing their immediate purpose, which they could easily do, by
Cardenas passing for the servant of Don Alonzo, who frequently had
occasion to go to and fro on business of the Archbishop's, they
hastened forward to Zaragoza, and proposed to Don Fernando to repair to
Valladolid in disguise and without attendance. Cardenas communicated
to the prince the loving messages of Doña Isabel, with her maidenly
complaints that he had not yet visited her in Castile, and her prayers
that he would not abandon her in the perilous predicament wherein she
was placed for his sake. Don Fernando instantly resolved to hasten to
Valladolid at all hazards, on the wings of love and hope; having first
sent forward Don Mosen Pero Vaca, a confidential servant of his father,
the King of Aragon, on a simulated embassy to Don Henrique, so as to
blind the eyes of the Mendozas, of Don Luis de la Cerda, and of the
rest of their faction along the road to Valladolid.
Don Fernando, then, accompanied only by a few domestics, in whom he
could repose implicit confidence, put himself under the guidance of
Cardenas, and boldly passed the line which separates Aragon from
Castile. Being obliged to stop to refresh themselves and their mules,
they halted at a hamlet between Gomara and Osma, where they passed for
mere traders, the prince busying himself to take care of the mules
and horses, and to serve at the table, so as to divert all suspicion
from his own person. After a multitude of difficulties and hair-breadth
escapes, he safely arrived in the dead of night at Osma, where he
found Don Pedro Manrique, Conde de Trevino, and three hundred lances
secretly got together and prepared to escort him for the residue of
his journey; the Manriques, the Rojas under the Conde de Castro, and
other friends of Doña Isabel, being on the alert and in command of the
road from Osma to Valladolid. Don Fernando was welcomed by the Conde
de Trevino and his followers at Osma with cries of joy and flourish of
trumpets, and conducted through the streets by the light of flaming
torches, which blazed out upon the astonished sight of the inhabitants
and the soldiers of the garrison, waking from their slumbers to witness
the triumphant entry of Don Fernando. Cardenas pushed on with fresh
horses to Valladolid, to give tidings of the approach of the party, who
followed with all possible speed.
Meanwhile, the Archbishop and the Admiral had been secretly gathering
in their friends, and introducing them by small parties into
Valladolid, as we have already seen. When Don Gutierre arrived in the
evening at the house of Vivero, he found them anxiously awaiting the
coming of Don Fernando. Chacon was sent back to meet him, and conduct
him into the house by the postern door from the garden, so as to avoid
the risk of his being seen and recognized in the streets of the city.
His followers halted at a village a few miles from Valladolid, while
he rode in almost alone, to plight his faith as a prince and a knight
to the fair Isabella. This interview took place the fourteenth day
of October, 1469. Don Fernando returned to Dueañs the same night,
and remained there until the eighteenth day of the month, when all
the conditions of the intended marriage having been fully settled,
he publicly entered Valladolid, in company with several lords of the
houses of Manrique and Rojas, and was received without the gates by
the Archbishop, the Admiral, and a brilliant cortege of the principal
cavaliers of the city. Concealment was no longer necessary, and in
the evening the espousals of the prince and princess were published
and ratified before a great concourse of spectators, assembled in the
house of Don Juan de Vivero. And there, on the following morning, the
marriage ceremony was performed, and the nuptial benediction pronounced
with feasts and rejoicings, it is true, but without the magnificence
of display, the tournaments, the public dances, and the bull-fights,
which the custom of the times and place required in honor of royal
espousals.
It was, in fact, a STOLEN MATCH, to which the weak tyranny of the king,
and the factious violence of the nobles, who possessed his good-will,
drove the future lords of Spain, Italy, and the Indies. And distrust,
as with ample cause we may, the virtue that is reared in the moral
contagion of palaces, never yet did prince or subject take to his arms
a more pure and lovely wife--loyal, affectionate, tender, and true,
endowed with every queen-becoming grace mingled and tempered with the
blander charms of humble life--than yielded up her maiden hand and
heart on that occasion to her lover king.
If the gentle reader would appreciate the moral of our tale, let him
summon up before his mind's eye the picture of Isabella of Castile,
married by stealth in the hall of a private dwelling, and hardly with
the solemnities of a common Spanish bridal; and then compare the
scene with that of the same Isabel, in the overpowering glories and
stupendous triumphs of her after life, as exhibited in the graphic,
picturesque, and impressive pages of Washington Irving. It were idle
for us to attempt a task accomplished to our hands by his magic pen.
Why advance to break spears with him, when the challenger would thus
but show his own weakness, without calling into display the strength of
the challenged? Instead of this, we shall have recourse to that mine
from which he has dug so many gems, borrowing a single trait to fill up
our canvas from the naïve pages of the curate of Los Palacios:--
"The right noble and ever blessed queen, Doña Isabel, with the king
Don Fernando her husband, reigned over the realms and lordships of
Castile nine and twenty years and ten months; in the which time was the
greatest exaltation, triumph, honor, and prosperity that ever chanced
in Spain. Consider that, being the stainless daughter of such noble
lineage and royal stock and ancestry, she entertained in her person
so many other and excellent havings, the which our Lord adorned her
withal, wherein she outshone and overtopped all the queens, whether of
Christendom or of any differing law which did go before her, not only,
I say, in Spain, but in all the world, of those whereof by their virtue
and their graces, and by their wisdom and their power, the memory
doth live and flourish. Who could worthily recount the grandeur, the
magnificence of her court; the prelates, learned men, and venerable
counsellors, who always accompanied her; the reverend fathers, the
precentors, and the musical accordances in honor of divine worship;
the solemnity of the masses and honors continually chanted in her
palace; the knightly and martial nobles of Spain, dukes, masters,
marquisses, and _ricos hombres_; the gallants and dames, the jousts
and tournaments, the multitude of poets and troubadours and minstrels
of every degree; the men of arms and war, ever in battle against the
Moors, with all their artillery and engines of infinite variety; and
the gold and silver and gems and pagan men brought from the Indies
newly discovered, where the setting sun goes down behind the ocean sea!
Spain was, in the time of these victorious kings, Don Fernando and Doña
Isabel, more triumphant, sublimated, and potent, and more feared and
honored, than ever before or since; and so of this right noble queen,
the fame shall be cherished forever in the realms and lordships of
Castile."
THE PLEIADES.
(_See Plate._)
Borne by music on their way,
Every chord a living ray,
Sinking on a song-like breeze,
The lyre of the Pleiades;
With its seven fair sisters bent
O'er their starry instrument,
Each a star upon her brow,
Somewhat dim in daylight's glow,
That clasped the flashing coronet
On their midnight tresses set.
And who were they, the lovely seven,
With shape of earth, and home in heaven?
Daughters of King Atlas they--
He of the enchanted sway:
He who read the mystic lines
Of the planets' wondrous signs;
He the sovereign of the air--
They were his, these daughters fair.
Six were brides in sky and sea
To some crowned divinity;
But his youngest, loveliest one,
Was as yet unwooed, unwon.
On that sky lyre a chord is mute
Haply, one echo yet remains,
To linger on the Poet's lute,
And tell, in his most mournful strains,
A star hath left its native sky
To touch our cold earth, and to die;
To warn the young heart how it trust
To mortal vows, whose faith is dust;
To bid the young cheek guard its bloom
From wasting by such early doom;
Warn by the histories linked with all
That ever bowed to passion's thrall
Warn by all--above--below,
By that lost Pleiad's depth of woe--
Warn them, love is of heavenly birth,
But turns to death on touching earth.
INSTRUCTIONS FOR MAKING ORNAMENTS IN RICE-SHELL-WORK.
The term "shell-work" may, perhaps, suggest to our readers those gay,
and sometimes gaudy, but often very striking groups of brightly-tinted
shell-flowers, which we meet with at most watering-places. These
certainly form showy ornaments for the table or mantle-piece, but are
scarcely adapted for ladies' work; the plaster, stiff wire, rough
colors, and actual hard work, being matters by no means fitted for
"Delicate and dainty fingers!"
The shell-work we propose to teach is a very different affair, its
lightness and purity of look adapting it peculiarly for wreaths,
or sprays for the hair or dress; and the materials of which it is
composed, rendering it an elegant drawing-room occupation, as well as
one calculated to call forth the artistic taste and inventive powers of
the worker; for it is capable of infinite variety.
We shall divide our instructions into two branches--viz., the "Simple,"
and the "Composite Rice-Shell-Work." The former will exclusively occupy
our first article.
[Illustration: HEADDRESS, OR RICE-SHELL-WORK.]
The shells we use are called "rice-shells," from their resemblance to
the grains of rice; they are brought from the West Indies, and sold by
measure, or by the box, at most conchological repositories. Their Latin
name _Voluta Nivea_. Those who would study economy will often obtain
them very cheaply from those miscellaneous dealers who purchase the
foreign shells and curiosities brought from abroad by sailors. A pint
of these shells will go a great way.
Before we can set to work, the shells must be cleaned and prepared.
For this purpose, the first thing to be done is, with a strong yet
fine-pointed pin, to free each shell from any grit or dirt which may
have accumulated in the interior. Next, with a strong, sharp pair of
scissors, a bit of about the size of a pin's point is to be clipped off
from the extreme tip of each shell, so as to leave a tiny hole there,
not larger than the eye of a middle-sized sewing-needle. This is a
manipulation requiring care, as, if it is roughly done, too large an
opening will be made, and the symmetry of the shell will be destroyed.
Neither should the worker stoop over the shell while clipping it, for,
if the bit of shell snipped off were to fly into the eyes, it would
occasion much irritation and pain. Practice will soon enable any one to
clip the shells rapidly and evenly.
In order to set about rice-shell-work tidily and systematically, it
will be necessary to have a dozen little square card-board trays or
boxes, about three or four inches square, and two inches deep. These
can be easily made from white or colored card-board, and should be so
contrived that they may fit into one another, and all be contained in
one large tray or box of similar material, and covered over by one
cover.
As the shells are cut, let them be sorted into three divisions, the
small, the middle-sized, and the large shells. When all are clipped,
put them into three separate basins; pour over them cold water enough
to cover the shells, and to stand about an inch above them. Into this
water put soda and mottled soap, in the proportion of half an ounce of
each to a full pint of water; the soap should be shredded. Cover the
basins, and set them on a hob, or in an oven, near a good fire; stir up
the whole occasionally, and let it remain until the water is scalding
hot, not longer. Then rub the shells gently with the hands, and pour
off that water; and having rinsed the shells, add a fresh supply of
water, and put in only soap this time. Let it again stand by the fire
until hot, stirring it occasionally; then again rub the shells gently
between the hands, pour off the soapy water, and rinse them thoroughly
with clear, cold water.
Now lay a soft, folded towel on the table; put about a tablespoonful at
a time of shells on this towel, and turning another fold of it over,
rub them gently, but sufficiently to free them from moisture. Have
ready a silk handkerchief, and remove them to this, and polish them
with it, and then transfer them to one of the boxes, and setting it
on the hob, let it stand there until the shells feel warm, shaking it
occasionally in order that all may be equally dried. They will now be
ready for use, and ought to have a pearly, white, polished appearance.
Take notice that too much soap or soda, or too great a degree of heat
in the water, or too long a soaking, will make them look yellow; while
too much heat when drying will crack them or render them brittle, and
too little will leave a moisture about them which will tarnish the
other parts of the work.
The next important item to the shells is the silver wire. This is
bought on reels, by the ounce, and can be obtained of any of the large
gold and silver bullion fringe-makers and wire-drawers in this city.
As "Evans's Derby Crochet Cotton" is doubtless well known to most of
our readers, we will compare the different sized wires required to the
different numbers of this cotton of similar size. The coarsest silver
wire we ever need would be about the calibre of No. 10 "Derby Cotton;"
the next about that of No. 16; and the finest about the size of No. 24
or 30. The two latter are those chiefly used for leaves, flowers, &c.,
the coarsest being generally only employed for the stem on to which the
various component parts of a wreath or spray are to be grafted, or for
baskets, or ornamental groups; our aim being lightness, not only of
appearance but of weight, we use the thinnest wire we can consistently
with firmness.
The largest shells are chiefly used for baskets; the middle-sized and
small ones for flowers and leaves. Each kind is to be contained in its
own box.
Into another of the boxes cut some two or three hundred lengths of the
middle-sized wire, each piece measuring about two and a half inches.
Having now made all our preparations, we will set to work, and see
how all the various separate portions of the headdress given at the
commencement of this article are made, and how they are put together.
The following cut shows the manner in which every shell required for
leaves or flowers must be prepared. We call it "wiring the shells."
In order to effect it, the shell must be taken between the finger and
thumb of the left hand, with its point towards the tip of the finger,
and its opening turned upwards; then one of the two-and-a-half-inch
lengths of wire, which we directed should be prepared, must be taken
in the right hand, and one end of it passed in at the point, and out
at the opening of the shell, and a third of it drawn through, and then
turned over on itself; the folded wire being then held between the
thumb and finger of the right hand, the shell must be turned round and
round until the wires are sufficiently twisted together, to hold the
shell firmly. In a very short time this manipulation will become so
familiar that it will be performed with astonishing ease and dispatch.
[Illustration]
Keep the wired shells sorted, laying the smaller ones in a box to
themselves, and the middle-sized ones also in a box to themselves, and
with the shells all towards one end; for, when we come to make up the
flowers, &c., it is astonishing how much time will be saved by our
being able at once to put our hands on the portion we need.
Having thus wired a hundred or two, or more of shells, according to the
purpose we have in view, we next proceed to make them up.
[Illustration]
A leaf, like the one represented, may be made of any number of shells,
from five to fifteen, or even twenty-five. A very small shell should be
chosen for the apex, and then the pairs graduated so as to increase in
size towards the stem. They should all be picked out, and laid ready
for use before we begin to form the leaf.
Take the small central, or top shell between the finger and thumb of
the left hand, allow the shell itself and about an eighth of an inch of
the twisted wire to project above the finger, and have the opening of
the shell turned towards you. Take the first pair of shells and insert
one on either side of the central one, leaving about the tenth of an
inch of twisted wire between the shells and their junction with the
wire of the middle shell; then, with the finest wire, bind them all
together by twisting the fine wire neatly round and round the stem, for
the distance of nearly a quarter of an inch, when the second pair of
shells are to be added, arranged, and bound on in like manner and for
a similar distance; continue thus all the way down, leaving the wires
between the shell and the stem a little longer at each pair, keeping
all the openings one way, and taking care to bind the stem firmly and
compactly, and especially to avoid leaving any projecting ends or
points of wire, as these not only look untidy, but are excessively
inconvenient if the work is intended for wear.
[Illustration]
The flower bud is formed by taking one of the lengths of wire,
threading a shell on it, and then a small Roman pearl bead, and then a
second shell, and twisting the wire to keep them all firm. It will be
perceived by the engraving that the bead comes between the two points
of the shells, and that both openings lie the same way.
[Illustration]
This is what we term a "single," or "simple flower." It is composed of
five wired shells of equal size; the openings are all turned inwards,
and the wires bound together immediately below the points of the shells
firmly and compactly, all the way down to the very extremity.
[Illustration]
This double flower is composed of seventeen shells--viz., twelve small
ones, and five of a middle size. The five are arranged as in the single
flower, and the twelve are made up into four leaflets of three each,
put together in the way a leaf is commenced; these leaflets are bound
on to the flower, being arranged evenly round it, and so as to leave
about a quarter of an inch of its stem above their junction with it,
and the same length of wire between the pair of shells in each leaflet
and the stem. Bend them into their places when the flower is completed.
Another variety of flower is here given, composed of twelve small
shells, so arranged as to leave half an inch of wire between the
point of each shell and the place where we begin to bind it; all the
openings face upwards. The shells are to be arranged like the spokes of
a wheel.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Wheat-ears may be made of any number of shells, from eighteen to
thirty, and of either small or middle-sized shells. One is taken as an
apex, then a pair set one on either side of it, then one in the centre;
then another pair, and so on, binding them on, almost close to the
point of each shell, and putting in here and there three-quarter-inch
lengths of the middle-sized wire, to resemble the beards.
[Illustration]