catholics in secret, though in public they affected to follow the
religion of the state. Clotald had a son about twelve years old, named
Richard, who was brought up by his parents to love and fear God, and to
be very stedfast in the truths of the catholic faith. Catherine, the
wife of Clotald, a noble, Christian, and prudent lady, conceived such an
affection for Isabella, that she reared her as if she was her own
daughter; and the child was so well endowed by nature, that she readily
learned all they taught her. Time and the kind treatment she received,
gradually wore out from her recollection that which her parents had
bestowed upon her; not so much so, however, but that she often thought
of them with a sigh. Though she learned English, she did not forget her
native tongue, for Clotald took care to bring Spaniards secretly to his
house to converse with her, and thus it was, that without ceasing to
speak Spanish, she became as proficient in English as if she had been
born in London.
After having learned all kinds of work becoming a young lady of good
birth, she was taught to read and write more than passably well; but
what she excelled in above all, was in playing all sorts of instruments
suitable to her sex, with extraordinary perfection of musical taste and
skill, and with the accompaniment of a voice which Heaven had endowed
with such melody that when she chanted she enchanted. All these graces,
natural and acquired, gradually inflamed the heart of Richard, whom she
loved and respected as the son of her lord. At first his affection for
her was like that of a brother for a sister, but when she reached her
twelfth year, this feeling had changed into a most ardent desire to
possess her, but only in the honourable way of becoming her lawful
spouse; for Isabella's incomparable virtue made it hopeless to obtain
her in any other way, nor would he have done so even, if he could, for
his own noble disposition, and the high estimation in which he held her,
forbade any bad thought to take root in his soul.
A thousand times he determined to make known his passion to his father
and mother, and as often broke his resolution, knowing that they had
destined him to be the husband of a young Scotch lady of great wealth
and good family, who, like themselves, secretly professed the catholic
faith; and it seemed clear to him, that after having betrothed him to a
lady of rank, they would not think of bestowing him on a slave, if that
name could be applied to Isabella. Agitated by these distressing
reflections, not knowing what course to pursue or whom to consult, he
fell into a melancholy that nearly cost him his life. But thinking it
was a very cowardly thing to let himself die without making any kind of
effort for his own relief, he strove to gather up courage enough to
declare his feelings to Isabella.
Everybody in the house was grieved for Richard's illness for he was
beloved by them all, and by his parents to the utmost degree, both
because he was their only child, and because his virtues, his worth, and
good sense deserved all their affection. The physicians could not make
out the nature of his complaint, nor could he himself venture to declare
it. At last, one day when Isabella entered his room alone, to attend
upon him, he said to her, with a faltering voice and stammering tongue,
"Lovely Isabella, your worth, your great virtue, and exceeding beauty,
have brought me to the state you see; if you would not have me perish in
the worst agonies that can be imagined, say that you return the love I
feel for you, and consent to my fondest desire, which is to make you
secretly my wife; for I fear that my parents, not knowing your merits as
I do, would refuse me a blessing to me so indispensable. If you will
give me your word to be mine, I here pledge you my own, as a true
catholic Christian, to be yours; and though our union be deferred, as
deferred it shall be until it can take place with the church's sanction
and that of my parents, yet the thought that you will surely be mine,
will be enough to restore me to health, and to keep my spirits buoyant
until the happy day arrives."
Whilst Richard was speaking, Isabella stood with downcast eyes, and when
he had ceased, she replied with equal modesty and good sense, "Ever
since Heaven, in its anger or its mercy (I know not which), withdrew me
from my parents, Señor Richard, and gave me to yours, I have resolved,
in gratitude for the infinite kindness they have bestowed upon me, never
to act in opposition to their wishes; and without their consent, I
should regard the inestimable boon you desire to confer upon me, not as
a good but as an evil fortune. Should it ever be my happy destiny to be
acknowledged by them as worthy of you, be assured that my heart shall be
yours; but till that time comes, or should it never come, let it console
you to know that the dearest wish of my soul will ever be that you may
know every blessing which Heaven can bestow upon you." She said no more,
but from that moment began the convalescence of Richard, and the revival
of his parents' drooping hopes.
The youthful pair took courteous leave of each other, he with tears in
his eyes, and she wondering in her soul to see that of Richard captive
to her love. As for him, having been raised from his sick bed by a
miracle, as it seemed to his parents, he would no longer conceal from
them the state of his feelings, but disclosed it one day to his mother,
and ended a long conversation by declaring that they might as well put
him to death as refuse him Isabella, for it amounted to the same thing.
He extolled the virtues of Isabella in such terms, that he almost
brought his mother to think that in becoming her son's wife she would
have the worst of the bargain. Accordingly she gave Richard good hopes
that she would prevail on his father to assent to his wishes, as she
herself did; in this she succeeded, for by repeating to her husband all
Richard's arguments, she easily induced him to approve of the young
man's design, and to find excuses for breaking off the match with the
Scotch lady.
At this time Isabella was fourteen and Richard twenty; but even in that
early spring time of their youth, they were old in sense and judgment.
It wanted but four days of the time appointed by Richard's parents when
he should bend his neck to the holy yoke of matrimony; and wise and
fortunate did they deem themselves in choosing their prisoner to be
their daughter, esteeming her virtues to be a better dower than the
great wealth of the Scotch lady. The preparations for the wedding were
all made, the relations and friends of the family were invited, and
nothing remained but to make known the intended match to the Queen, no
marriage between persons of noble blood being lawful without her
knowledge and consent; but making no doubt of obtaining the royal
licence, they put off applying for it to the last. Things being in this
state, their joy was disturbed one evening by the appearance of one of
the Queen's servants with an order to Clotald from her Majesty,
requiring his appearance before her next morning with his Spanish
prisoner. He replied that he would cheerfully obey her Majesty's
command. The messenger retired, and left the family in great
perturbation; "Alas," said dame Catherine, "what if the Queen knows that
I have brought up this girl as a Catholic, and thence infers that we are
all of us Christians in this house! For, if her Majesty asks her what
she has learned during the eight years she has been with us, what
answer can she give with all her discretion, poor timid girl, that will
not condemn us?"
"Be under no fear on that account, dear lady," said Isabella; "for I
trust in the divine goodness and mercy of Heaven, that it will put such
words into my mouth as will not only not condemn you, but redound to
your advantage."
Richard trembled as if he foreboded some calamity. Clotald cast about
for some encouragement to allay his grievous fears, and found none but
in his great trust in God and in the prudence of Isabella, whom he
earnestly entreated to try in every possible way to avoid convicting
them of being Catholics; for, though their spirits were willing to
encounter martyrdom, yet their flesh was weak and recoiled from the
bitter trial. Isabella assured them over and over again that they might
set their minds at rest; what they apprehended should not befal them
through her instrumentality; for though she knew not then what answer
she should make to the questions that should be put to her on the
morrow, she had a lively and confident hope that she would reply in such
a manner as would be for their good.
Many were the comments and surmises they made that night on this
unwelcome incident, and especially it occurred to them that, if the
Queen knew they were Catholics, she would not have sent them so mild a
message; it seemed reasonable to infer from it, that she only desired to
see Isabella, the fame of whose incomparable beauty and accomplishments,
known to every one in the capital, must have reached her Majesty's ears.
Clotald and his wife confessed to themselves, however, that they had
done wrong in not presenting her at court, and they thought the best
excuse they could make for this, was to say that ever since she had come
into their hands, they had destined her to be the wife of their son. But
even this would be acknowledging themselves culpable, since it would
appear that they arranged the marriage without the Queen's leave; but
such an offence would probably not incur any severe punishment. In this
way, they comforted themselves, and they resolved that Isabella should
not be dressed humbly like a prisoner, but in rich bridal attire, such
as became the betrothed of a gentleman of importance Ike their son.
Next day accordingly they dressed Isabella in the Spanish style, in a
robe of green satin with a long train, and slashes lined with cloth of
gold and looped with the pearls, the whole being adorned with precious
stones; a diamond necklace and girdle, with a fan such as is carried by
Spanish ladies; and for head dress her own luxuriant golden hair
entwined with diamonds and pearls.
In that sumptuous attire, with her sprightly air and marvellous beauty,
she made her appearance in London in a handsome coach, fascinating the
eyes and souls of all who beheld her. Clotald, his wife, and Richard
rode with her in the coach, and many noble relations of the family
escorted her on horseback, Clotald desiring that all these honours
should be paid to his prisoner, in order that the queen might treat her
as his son's betrothed. When they arrived at the palace, and entered the
vast hall in which her majesty was seated, Isabella's escort halted at
the lower end, and she herself advanced alone in all her inconceivable
beauty, producing an effect like that of a brilliant meteor shooting
through the sky on a calm clear night, or of a sunbeam darting at the
first dawn of day through a mountain gorge. A comet she seemed,
portending a fiery doom to the hearts of many in that presence hall.
Full of meekness and courtesy, she advanced to the foot of the throne,
knelt before the queen, and said to her in English, "May it please your
Majesty to extend your royal hands to your servant's lips, who will
henceforth esteem herself exalted, since she has been so fortunate as to
behold your grandeur."
The queen remained a good while gazing on her without saying a word,
figuring to herself, as she afterwards told her lady of the bed-chamber,
that she had before her a starry heaven, the stars of which were the
many pearls and diamonds worn by Isabella; her fair face and her eyes
its sun and moon, and her whole person a new marvel of beauty. The
queen's ladies would fain have been all eyes, that they might do nothing
but gaze on Isabella; one praised her brilliant eyes, one her
complexion, another her fine figure, another her sweet voice; and one
there was who said in pure envy, "The Spaniard is good looking, but I do
not like her dress."
At last the queen motioned to Isabella to rise, and said to her, "Speak
to me in Spanish, maiden, for I understand it well, and shall like to
hear it." Then turning to Clotald, "You have done me wrong, Clotald,"
she said, "in keeping this treasure so many years concealed from me; but
it is such a one as may well have excited you to avarice. You are bound
however to restore it to me, for by right it is mine."
"My liege," replied Clotald, "what your majesty says is quite true; I
confess my fault, if it is one, to have kept this treasure until it
arrived at the perfection suitable for appearing before your majesty's
eyes. Now that it has done so, I had it in mind to enhance it still
more, by asking your majesty's leave for Isabella to become the wife of
my son Richard."
"I like her name, too," returned the queen. "Nothing was wanting to the
fulness of her perfection but that she should be called Isabella the
Spaniard. But, mark you, Clotald, I know that, without my leave, you
have promised her to your son."
"That is true, my liege, but it was in the confident hope that the many
eminent services which my ancestors and I have rendered to the crown,
would obtain from your majesty favours still more difficult to grant
than the leave in question, the more so as my son is not yet wedded."
"Nor shall he be wedded to Isabella," said the queen, "until he has
merited it in his own person. I mean that I will not have him avail
himself to that end of your services or those of his forefathers. He
must himself prepare to serve me, and win by his own deserts this prize
which I esteem as if she were my daughter."
The queen had no sooner uttered these last words than Isabella again
fell on her knees before her, saying in Spanish, "Such thwartings as
these, most gracious sovereign, are rather to be esteemed auspicious
boons than misfortunes. Your majesty has given me the name of daughter;
after that what can I have to fear, or what may I not hope?"
Isabella uttered this with so winning a grace, that the queen conceived
an extreme affection for her, desired that she should remain in her
service, and committed her to the care of a great lady, her keeper of
the robes, who was to instruct her in the duties of her new position.
Richard, who saw himself thus, as it were, deprived of his life in
losing Isabella, was almost at his wits' end. Agitated and discomfited,
he knelt before the queen, and said, "I need no other rewards to induce
me to serve your majesty than such as my ancestors have obtained in the
service of your royal predecessors; but since it is your majesty's
pleasure that I should have new motives and incentives for my zeal, I
would crave to know in what way I may fulfil your majesty's behest?"
"There are two ships ready to set out on a cruise," said the queen, "of
which I have made the Baron de Lansac general. I appoint you captain of
one of them, being assured that the qualities you derive from those
whose blood is in your veins will supply the defect of your years. Mark
what a favour I confer upon you, since I give you an opportunity to
signalise yourself in the service of your queen, to display your
capacity and your valour, and to win the highest reward, methinks, which
you yourself could desire. I myself will be Isabella's guardian, though
she manifests that her own virtue will be her truest guardian. Go in
God's name; for since you are in love, as I imagine, I expect great
things from your prowess. Fortunate were the king who in time of war had
in his army ten thousand soldiers in love, expecting to obtain their
mistresses as the reward of their victories. Rise, Richard, and if you
have anything to say to Isabella, say it now, for to-morrow you must
sail."
Richard kissed the queen's hands, highly prizing the favour she had
conferred upon him, and went and knelt before Isabella. He tried to
speak to her, but could not, for he felt as if there was a knot in his
throat that paralysed his tongue. He strove with all his might to keep
down the tears that started into his eyes, but he could not conceal them
from the queen. "Shame not to weep, Richard," said her majesty, "nor
think less of yourself for allowing such evidence of a tender heart to
escape you, for it is one thing to fight the enemy, and another to take
leave of one who is dearly loved. Isabella, embrace Richard, and give
him your blessing: his affection well deserves it."
Isabella's heart ached to see Richard so cast down. She could not
understand what her majesty said. Conscious of nothing but her grief,
motionless, and blinded by her tears, she looked like a weeping statue
of alabaster. The anguish of the two lovers drew tears from most of the
beholders. In fine, Richard and Isabella separated without exchanging a
word; and Clotald and his friends, after saluting the queen, left the
hall full of grief and pity. Isabella felt like an orphan whose parents
have just been buried, and dreaded lest her new mistress should make her
abandon the rule of life in which she had been brought up.
Two days afterwards, Richard put to sea, distracted among many other
sources of incertitude by two reflections--one was that he had to
perform exploits by which he might merit Isabella's hand; and the other,
that he could perform none without violating his conscience as a
catholic, which forbade him to draw his sword against those of his own
faith, but unless he did so, he should be denounced as a catholic or as
a coward, to the peril of his life and his hopes. But, in fine, he
determined to postpone his inclinations as a lover to his duty as a
catholic, and in his heart he prayed heaven to send him occasions in
which he might show himself at once valiant and a true Christian,--might
satisfy his queen and merit Isabella.
For six days the two vessels sailed with a prosperous wind, shaping
their course for the Western Islands, for, in that direction they could
not fail to fall in with Portuguese East India men, or vessels returning
from the West Indies; but on the seventh day the wind became contrary
and continued that way so long that they could not make the islands, but
were forced to run for the coast of Spain. On nearing it at the entrance
of the straits of Gibraltar, they discovered three vessels, one very
large and two small. Richard steered towards his commander's ship to
know if it was his intention they should attack the three vessels just
discovered; but on nearing it, he saw them hoist a black flag, and
presently he heard a mournful sound of trumpets, indicating that either
the general or one of his chief officers was dead. When he came within
hail, which had not before been the case since they put to sea, there
was a call from the leading ship for Captain Richard to come on board,
as their general had died of apoplexy the preceding night. Sad as this
news was, Richard could not help being glad, not of his admiral's death,
but at finding himself in command of both ships, according to the
Queen's orders for the contingency which had occurred. He went on board
the flag-ship where he found some lamenting the old commander, and some
rejoicing over the new one; but all promised him obedience, yet
proclaimed him general with short ceremony, not having time for longer,
for two out of the three vessels they had discovered had quitted the
third and were bearing down upon them.
They at once made them out by the crescents on their flags to be Turkish
galleys, to the great delight of Richard, who believed that with the
help of Heaven he should make an important capture without prejudice to
his religion. The two galleys came up to reconnoitre the English ships,
which had not shown their national colours but those of Spain, in order
to baffle those who might overhaul them, and prevent their recognising
them as war cruisers. The Turks mistook them for trading vessels from
India, and made sure of capturing them with ease. Richard took care to
let them approach till they were well within range of his guns, which he
let fly at them so opportunely, that with a single broadside he disabled
one of the galleys, sending five balls through her middle and nearly
cutting her in two. She immediately heeled over and began to founder;
the other galley made haste to take her in tow, in order to get her
under the lee of the large ship; but Richard, whose ships manoeuvred as
rapidly as if they were impelled by oars, having reloaded his guns,
pursued the retreating galleys, pouring upon them an incessant shower of
balls. The crew of the crippled galley having clambered on board the
large ship, Richard poured such a cross fire from his two ships on her
consort, that she could neither use sails nor oars, and the Turks on
board her, following the example of their comrades, took refuge in the
large ship, not with the intention of defending her, but for the
momentary safety of their lives. The Christian galley-slaves broke their
chains, and mingling with the Turks also boarded the large ship, but as
they were in danger from the musquetry of Richard's two ships as they
were swarming up the side, he gave orders to cease firing on Turks and
Christians alike. The former, however, had already lost the great part
of their numbers, and the rest were cut to pieces with their own weapons
by the revolted slaves, who, thinking the two English ships were
Spanish, did marvels for the recovery of their freedom.
At last, when nearly all the Turks were killed, some Spaniards shouted
from the deck to their supposed countrymen to come on board and enjoy
the fruits of their victory. Richard asked them in Spanish what ship was
that? They replied that she was a Portuguese ship from the West Indies,
freighted with spices, and with such a quantity of diamonds and pearls
that she was worth a million. She had been driven into those latitudes
by a storm, much damaged, with all her guns thrown overboard, and her
crew almost perishing of hunger and thirst. In that condition, being
unable to make any resistance, she had been captured the day before by
these two galleys, which belonged to the corsair Arnaut Mami,[79] and
which not having stowage room for her great cargo, had taken her in tow
to convey her to the river Larache. Richard apprised them, in return,
that if they supposed his two vessels were Spanish, they were greatly
mistaken, for they belonged to the Queen of England. This information
astonished and alarmed them, making them fear that they had escaped from
one rock to founder on another; but Richard told them they had nothing
to fear, and that they might rely on obtaining their liberty, provided
they did not make any defence. "It would be impossible for us to do so,"
they said, "for as we have told you, we have neither cannon nor other
arms, and have no choice but to throw ourselves upon the generosity of
your general. Since he has freed us from the intolerable yoke of the
Turks, let him enhance his good work by an act which will exalt his fame
all over the world wherever the news reaches of this memorable victory
and his magnanimity."
[79] Under whom Cervantes himself was for four years in slavery at
Algiers.
Richard lent a favourable ear to this request, and immediately called a
council of his officers to consider what might be the best means of
sending all the Christians to Spain, without incurring any risk from
them, should their numbers encourage them to rise and attempt to
overpower his crews. There were some who suggested that they should be
brought on board one by one, and put to death as they entered. "No,"
said Richard; "since by God's grace we have obtained so rich a prize, I
will not betray my ingratitude by such an act of cruelty. It is never
well to have recourse to the sword, when, with a little forethought, the
end may be secured by other means. I will, therefore, not have any
Catholic Christian put to death, not that I care so much for them, but
for my own sake and for yours, for I would not have the honour of our
victory tarnished by cruelty. My orders are, then, that the crew of one
of our ships, with all her guns and arms and the greater part of her
stores, be put on board the large Portuguese vessel, which we will then
take to England, and leave the Spaniards to return home on ours."
No one ventured to contravene this proposal, which to some appeared
equally magnanimous and judicious, while others in their hearts
condemned it as showing an undue leaning towards the Catholics.