Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

It is easy to give a description of garments, but how describe the surpassing loveliness of form and countenance, which consists, not in the peculiar shape of each separate feature or limb, but in the perfect harmony of parts, and heavenly combination of elements in the whole person? The lady of whom we speak was of middling stature, and rather fuller in form than might be considered consistent with a faultless model; but the grace of every movement, and the mingled sweetness and dignity of her whole manner, would alone have sufficed to mark the royal daughter of a line of kings. Her face was not of that stamp which fancy is prone to attribute to the maidens of Spain. We have already said that her hair was brown; and her complexion was pure blushing red and white, the unclouded carnation of the fairest youthful beauty. A broad, open brow, an oval face gently curving off into a rounded chin, even well-defined lips, expressing a firm character united with a gentle spirit, and eyes of dark gray deepening into blue; _ojos entre verdes y azules_, says a good friar of her day, who seems to have studied the constituents of beauty rather more attentively than became a monk: such were the separate features of the fair young maiden. Her general cast and look did not speak her more than eighteen; but a certain maturity of expression in her face, and a grave and somewhat devotional air, increased by the appearance of a richly illuminated missal, which she held in her hand, would have suited a much riper age.

To the low salutation of Don Gutierre, she graciously nodded in reply, without interrupting her conversation with the Archbishop. So earnestly, indeed, was it continued, that a young cavalier had entered the open door unobserved by her, and advanced towards the centre of the room. He stood with one foot slightly set forward, his short cloak, of the finest cloth of Segovia, flung back from his shoulders, displaying the close jacket of Genoese velvet, which covered his manly form, the gold-hilted sword which hung over his slashed underclothes, and a chain of massive chased gold links with a cross of Montesa suspended from his neck, while in his left hand he held a black velvet hat, ornamented with a plain diamond aigrette and a single tuft of white ostrich plumes, leaving uncovered a high, noble brow and expressive dignified features, with sparkling eyes, that gazed on the beautiful vision before them, entranced, as it were, with love and admiration.

"'Tis he, 'tis he!" cried Don Gutierre, pointing with his finger to the silent stranger; and as the lady started with a slight exclamation of surprise, Fernando de Aragon kneeled at her feet, and, seizing her not unwilling hand, covered it with the kisses of her accepted lover, whom she now, for the first time, saw, and that in secrecy and disguise.

Need we say that the lady was Isabel of Castile, the lovely and the loved, the model of queens, of wives, and of mothers; the unaffected reality of all that her false-hearted namesake of England, Elizabeth, affected to be, but was not, a woman, namely, with all a woman's sensibilities, and yet a great and high ruled princess; that Isabel, whose reign is the golden age of prosperity and glory in the annals of fallen Spain!

At the time when the events of our story happened, Henry the Imbecile held the sceptre of Castile and Leon, and the disorders of a sickly state had reached their acme. Don Henrique ascended the throne under circumstances the most inauspicious. The kingdom was devastated and exhausted by the long and bloody civil wars which preceded the accession of his ancestor, Henrique de Trastamara. The infirm health and premature death of his grandfather, Henry III., prevented his applying those remedies to the public relief which a capacious mind and enterprising spirit might otherwise have devised and undertaken. His predecessor, Don Juan, destitute of either energy or talents to govern his turbulent nobles, was equally degraded, in being at all times either their tool or their victim. Condemned to see them dispute the possession of his person and his power on the fatal plains of Olmedo, he resigned all his authority to the constable, Don Alvaro de Luna, and afterwards with still greater weakness gave up his tried and faithful minister to the fury of their common enemies. Don Henrique himself inherited the mean-spirited and servile character of Don Juan.

Wavering and pusillanimous in his purposes, despised by his vassals, corrupt in his habits, and given up to the pursuit of pleasures of which nature had denied him the enjoyment, he soon acquired a most invincible repugnance to business of whatever kind, which he gladly suffered to pass entirely into the hands of ambitious and unprincipled favorites. A never-ending succession of troubles in his family, and of civil war between contending factions of the aristocracy, was the necessary consequence of the weakness of their common head. So long as he could enjoy his personal amusement unmolested, no public calumny moved the impassiveness of his indolence. While the profligate court spent in tournaments and gallantry, or in the wild distractions of the chase, that time which belonged to the necessities of the state, the fierce grandees made civil war upon each other from province to province, dividing, with impunity, the spoils of the crown and the substance of the people. Corruption, venality, and violence became universal; and the whole kingdom, convulsed by every species of disorder, and infected with all the principles of dissolution, was hurrying onward towards absolute and irretrievable ruin.

But that we may fully appreciate the condition of unhappy Castile at this period, it is well to refer to the touching pictures given by the old chroniclers, not merely of the general aspect of things, but also of some remarkable incidents in particular.

"All Spain was overwhelmed," says Don Alonzo Ortiz, who spoke of what he actually saw; "all Spain was overwhelmed by the most terrible storm, in those days when the flames of civil war raged with the greatest fury, and total perdition impended over the prostrate commonwealth. There was no spot exempt from the common misery. There was no man who enjoyed his patrimony without fear or peril of his life. All classes of the community were filled with affliction, flying to the cities for refuge, since robbery and murder stalked unchallenged through the land. Our barons did not take up arms to defend our borders against the Infidel, but to strike the thirsty sword into the bowels of their common country. The domestic enemy banqueted in the blood of his fellow-citizens. The strongest of arm and deepest in fraud bore the palm of power and praise among us; so that all things had broken wholly forth from the check and scope of justice, and the venerable majesty of the law had quenched its light in the darkness of general corruption."

How true to the life is the general description of the canon Ortiz, may be seen from a trait of the times recorded by Fernando del Pulgar. It seems that Don Pedro de Mendaña was alcaide of Castronuño during the period under review. Seeing the time well disposed for his natural desires and inclinations, he received in that fortalice many robbers with the booty which they made, and protected them from pursuit, as also desperate men of every kind, absconding debtors, murderers, and other outlaws. And when he found himself accompanied by such followers, induced by impunity from the laws and by large rewards to do his bidding, he seized on the castles of Cubillas and Cantalapiedra, and fortified that of Sieteiglesias, and placed his men in them; from which strongholds they sallied forth to rob in all the regions round about, and brought to him the treasure and goods they collected. He also captured the town of Tordesillas, and augmented his power in such wise, that the great cities of Burgos, Avila, Salamanca, Segovia, Valladolid, and Medina, and all the other towns in that country, gave him a regular tribute of bread, wine, and money, to purchase security. And thenceforward he continued to make other demands from them, of money and cattle, all which was yielded to his satisfaction. And by such oppressions he acquired great riches, so as to maintain constantly in his pay no less than three hundred mounted banditti. All the grandees of the kingdom who had estates in these districts held him in fear, and gave him largesses, that he might not make war against them on their lands. And from the success of this alcaide, many other alcaides in the kingdom took example, and set themselves to pillaging and ransoming the people, and defending the crimes and misdeeds which robbers perpetrated. Some time elapsed in this wise, when Pedro de Mendaña was besieged in his castle of Castronuño, and after an obstinate defence surrendered only upon honorable terms of capitulation; he and his bands escaping all punishment, as if what he had done was in the mere common course of war.

We shall give one other incident equally characteristic, but differing from the foregoing, as it shows how the great nobles and their immediate followers demeaned themselves in the same reign. Don Henrique had abandoned the control of affairs to his queen, and to her paramour Don Beltram de la Cueva, Conde de Ledesma, who was universally believed to have dishonored the royal bed, and to be the father of the Infanta Juana, stigmatized from this circumstance by the _sobriquet_ of la Beltraneja, by which name she is uniformly styled in Spanish history. The power enjoyed by this ancient Godoy excited a confederation of the discontented grandees and prelates, having for its object the deposition of Don Henrique, and the elevation of his brother Don Alonzo to the throne. The chroniclers Diego Enriquez del Castillo and Alonzo de Palencia describe the scene which ensued.

The leagued barons, being assembled at Avila, selected an extensive plain without the city, on which they erected a large scaffold, open on all sides, so that the citizens of Avila and the multitude who came from other towns to witness the ceremonial, might plainly see everything which took place. Here was displayed a royal throne, on which sat a figure representing Don Henrique with the crown on his head, a sword before, and the sceptre in his hand, in the usual manner of arraying the person of kings. Everything being thus arranged, the barons rode out from the city towards the scaffold, accompanied by Don Alonzo. When they had arrived, Don Juan Pacheco, Marquis de Villena, with the master of Alcantara, and the Conde de Medellin, took the prince a little way aside, while the other lords approached and placed themselves behind the effigy, ready to perform the act of dethronement.

Having done this, one of them advanced to the front of the scaffold, and read a paper with a loud voice, setting forth the offences of Don Henrique, which they divided into four principal heads. For the first, they alleged that he deserved to lose his royal dignity, whereupon the Archbishop of Toledo, Don Alonzo Carrillo, advanced, and took the crown from the brows of the mimic king. For the second, he forfeited the right of jurisdiction and justice, wherefore Don Alvaro de Zuñiga, Conde de Plasencia, removed the sword which lay on his lap. For the third, he ought to lose the government of his kingdom, and so Don Rodrigo Pimentel, Conde de Benavente, snatched the sceptre which he held in his hand. Lastly, for the fourth, he deserved to be deprived of the throne and establishment of a king, wherefore Don Diego Lopez de Luñiga, approaching and striking the effigy from the chair in which it was seated, kicked it ignominiously from the scaffold to the ground, accompanying the act with bitter terms of invective and reproach against the person and character of Don Henrique.

Immediately upon this, Don Alonzo came up, and being placed on the throne, received the insignia of royalty, with the homage and fealty of the banded knights, who kissed his hands as king and right lord of the realm, ordering the trumpets to sound a loud note of joy and triumph, amid the shouts of "_viva el rey_" from themselves and their partisans, and the muttered lamentations of the shocked and terrified multitude, too conscious that all the extremities of civil war must tread close on the heels of such high-handed and outrageous misdemeanors. And so indeed it was to the scandal of all Spain, and to the desolation and misery of the people, until the sudden death of Don Alonzo deprived the disaffected lords of a rallying-point, and abated, but did not extinguish, the fury of embattled factions in wretched Castile.

After the death of Don Alonzo, there remained only Doña Isabel, the young sister of the king, who could dispute with him the possession of the crown. She was daughter of Don Juan by a second marriage, being born at Madrigal, in old Castile, the twenty-second day of April, in the year 1451. Ere she had completed her fourth year, her father died, and Don Henrique, on succeeding to the crown, left Isabel and her mother to languish in poverty and obscurity in the seclusion of their town and lordship of Arevalo. The queen-mother, Doña Isabel of Portugal, soon lost her reason from the accumulated burden of degradation and other sorrows, and her deserted daughter, far from the luxury of palaces, and stripped of all the flattering incidents of royal birth, entered upon that childhood and youth of affliction whose trials were to conduct to so glorious an issue in her after life. Don Henrique did indeed, after a while, repent him of his abandonment of the injured Isabel, and received her into his palace, to enjoy the advantages which belonged to her rank.

But what a scene was there for the pure and ingenuous recluse of the walls of Arevalo! The implacable foe of the Gothic name strengthened himself among the hills of Granada, and defied the chivalry of Castile to the field; but the descendant of Don Pelayo was now a craven knight and a minion ruled prince, the scorn alike of Christian and of Moor; and consumed the treasures of his kingdom in revelry and favoritism, and its blood in civil broils, in the stead of devoting them to the noble task of driving Muley Hassan, from the golden halls and marble courts of the Alhambra, back to the native deserts of his race.

The skipping king, he ambled up and down,
With shallow gestures, and rash bavin wits,
Soon kindled and soon burnt: carded his state;
Mingled his royalty with carping fools;
Had his great name profaned with their scorn.

And, worst of all, the profligate consort of a shameless monarch, the guilty Doña Juana, lived in unchecked adultery with Don Beltran, at once the falsest of friends and most incapable of ministers, and reared up the offspring of their crime, the unfortunate Beltraneja, to be the watchword of treason in Castile for many a weary year of bloodshed and confusion. Fortunately for Isabel, she possessed a native dignity and purity of character, fortified and refined by the seeming mischances of her lot, which, however, had but taught her the "sweet uses" of adversity; and she passed through the fiery ordeal of a dissolute court unscathed, or rather with her genuine nobility of soul yet more elevated, by a shrinking repulsion for the foul atmosphere she had been compelled to breathe.

When the death of Don Alonzo, the victim of poison, administered to him in his food, left the insurgent nobles without a suitable chief, they went to Doña Isabel, with the Archbishop of Toledo at their head, and tendered her the sceptre of Castile. She had taken refuge in a convent at Avila, anxious to escape from the horrors of civil war, which everywhere met her eye. If her principles of conduct had been less pure and upright, the spectacle of her country given up to the reciprocal rage of hostile partisans, and her beloved brother the early victim of unregulated ambition, would have come to confirm her resolutions in such a crisis. But she needed not this; and immovable in her loyalty to her unworthy lord and brother, Don Henrique, she unhesitatingly and decidedly refused the proffers of allegiance made her by the grandees in arms against the crown. A procedure so full of high-toned generosity, while it won the regards of Don Henrique, was not without its influence upon his enemies, and greatly furthered the conclusion of a qualified peace at the congress of Los Toros de Guisando, where Don Henrique proclaimed Doña Isabel sole heiress of his kingdom, thus forever sealing the fate of La Beltraneja, whom he declared under oath not to be his child.

The barons, who had so contumeliously enacted the ceremony of dethroning the king in effigy at Avila, now returned to his confidence, and engaged in a new series of intrigues for the disposal of the hand of Doña Isabel, who, as heiress of Castile and Leon, was sought for in marriage by many of the great princes of Europe. Don Juan Pacheco obtained the grand mastership of Santiago, and the Archbishop of Toledo was again trusted. Of the various alliances which offered, that of the house of Aragon, as uniting the two great fragments of the Spanish monarchy, it was the interest of every true patriot to promote; and thus it was viewed by the Archbishop. But Don Juan had reasons of personal interest for opposing this, and managed to gain exclusive control of the movements and purposes of the king. They endeavored to compel the princess by threats of imprisonment to marry the King of Portugal, a widower far advanced in years, and wholly unsuitable as a husband for the fair and youthful Isabel. Failing this hopeful scheme, they fixed on Charles, Duke of Berri and Guienne, brother of Louis XI. of France. Don Fadrique Enriquez, Admiral of Castile, and Don Mosen Pierres de Peralta, Constable of Navarre, were coadjutors of the Archbishop in furthering the proposals of the young Ferdinand of Aragon, who had a still more powerful partisan than either in the growing tenderness of Doña Isabel.

In fact, Isabel, like a discreet and prudent lady as she was, had been 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

This is a representation of an ornamental group; the shells chosen for it should be the large ones. Three lengths of wire (middle-sized), measuring about four or five inches, must be cut off. A shell is threaded on each wire, the wire folded double, a twist or two given to it just to maintain the shell in its place, and then the double wire wound round a good sized pin to give it that spiral form. The three, when done, are bound together at the bottom for about a quarter of an inch, and mounted on an inch or two of the coarsest wire.

In binding leaves, flowers, &c., the fine wire should not be cut off until the leaf, or whatever it may be, is complete, as it is desirable to avoid ends and roughnesses.

We could amplify these notices, but we consider that the engravings will be sufficient to show our readers the kind of groups that can be arranged, and suggest to inventive and tasteful minds a multitude of other combinations.

With regard to their adjustment into sprays, or wreath, we can say but little, because that is so much a matter of taste. A light and graceful appearance should be aimed at, and the work neither crowded too closely together, nor left too straggling. It will often be advisable to mount a flower on a couple of inches of the coarse wire, in order to lengthen the stem, and it may then be grouped with a bud, or with spiral shells; but no rules can be laid down in an optional matter like this. The foundation stem, or that from which all the sprays of the headdress given at the commencement of this article, hangs, should be of double coarse wire; and the stems of the sprays of single coarse wire. All are to be bound on with the finest wire, and as neatly and as lightly as is consistent with firmness.

Care must be taken not to tarnish the wire by too much handling, especially with warm hands, or by unnecessary exposure to the atmosphere. When not in use, the reels should always be kept enveloped in silver paper.

The leaves of various sizes, the flowers of different kinds, and the other portions, should be consigned each to the boxes appropriated for them, as fast as they are made, and not all heaped together in one inextricable mass.

In our next article we shall describe the "Composite Rice-Shell-Work," which will present to our lady pupils a variety of ornamental arrangement.

This pleasing art is well worthy the pains and patience of all

"Who in work both _contentment_ and happiness find."

DRESS--AS A FINE ART.

BY MRS. MERRIFIELD.

REMARKS ON PARTICULAR COSTUMES.

We must now offer a few brief remarks upon certain costumes which appear to us most worthy of our attention and study, for their general elegance and adaptation to the figure. Of the modern Greek we have already spoken. The style of dress which has been immortalized by the pencil of Vandyck is considered among the most elegant that has ever prevailed in this country. It is not, however, faultless. The row of small curls round the face, how becoming soever to some persons, is somewhat formal, and although the general arrangement of the hair, which preserves the natural size and shape of the head, is more graceful than that of the time of Sir Joshua Reynolds, we think it would have been more pleasing had it left visible the line which divides the hair from the forehead. With regard to the dress itself: in the first place, the figures are spoiled by stays; secondly, the dress is cut too low in front; and thirdly, the large sleeves sometimes give too great width in front to the shoulders. These defects are, in some degree, counterbalanced by the graceful flow of the ample drapery, and of the large sleeves, which are frequently widest at their lower part, and by the gently undulating line which unites the waist of the dress with the skirt. The Vandyck dress, with its voluminous folds, is, however, more appropriate to the inhabitants of palaces than to the ordinary occupants of this working-day world. The drapery is too wide and flowing for convenience.

Lely's half-dressed figures may be passed over without comment; they are draped, not dressed. Kneller's are more instructive on the subject of costume. The dress of Queen Anne, in Kneller's portrait, is graceful and easy. The costume is a kind of transition between the Vandyck and Reynolds styles. The sleeves are smaller at the shoulder than in the former, and larger at the lower part than in the latter; in fact, they resemble those now worn by the modern Greeks. The dress is cut higher round the bust, and is longer in the waist than the Vandycks, while the undulating line uniting the body and skirt is still preserved. While such good examples were set by the painters--who were not, however, the inventors of the fashions they painted--it is astonishing that these graceful styles of dress should have been superseded in real life by the lofty headdresses and preposterous fashions which prevailed during the same period, and long afterwards, and which even the ironical and severe remarks of Addison in the "Spectator" were unable to banish from the circles of fashion. Speaking of the dresses of ladies during the reigns of James II. and William III., Mr. Planché, in his History of British Costume (p. 318), says: "The tower or commode was still worn, and the gowns and petticoats flounced and furbelowed, so that every part of the garment was in curl;" and a lady of fashion "looked like one of those animals," says the "Spectator," "which in the country we call a Friesland hen." But in 1711 we find Mr. Addison remarking: "The whole sex is now dwarfed and shrunk into a race of beauties that seems almost another species. I remember several ladies who were once nearly seven feet high, that at present want some inches of five. How they came to be thus curtailed, I cannot learn; whether the whole sex be at present under any penance which we know nothing of, or whether they have cast their headdresses in order to surprise us with something in that kind which shall be entirely new: though I find most are of opinion they are at present like trees lopped and pruned that will certainly sprout up and flourish with greater heads than before."

The costume of the time of Sir Joshua Reynolds, as treated by this great artist, though less splendid, appears to us, with the exception of the headdress, nearly as graceful, and far more convenient than the Vandyck dress. It is more modest, more easy, and better adapted to show the true form of the shoulders, while the union of the body of the dress with the skirt is effected in the same graceful manner as in the Vandyck portraits. The material of the drapery in the latter is generally silks and satins; of the former, it is frequently muslin, and stuff of a soft texture, which clings more closely to the form. That much of the elegance of both styles of dress is to be attributed to the skill and good taste of the painters, is evident from an examination of portraits by contemporary artists. Much also may be ascribed to the taste of the wearer. There are some people who, though habited in the best and richest clothes, never appear well-dressed; their garments, rumpled and untidy, look as if they had been pitched on them, like hay, with a fork; while others, whose dress consists of the most homely materials, appear well-dressed, from the neatness and taste with which their clothes are arranged.