Conspiratrix

“That most impious conspiratrix, the countess of Buchan [Isabella MacDuff] being likewise apprehended, the king commanded that, since she had not used the sword, her life should be spared; but, in regard of her illegal conspiracy, she should be confined in a building constructed of stone and iron,[…]”

The soldier of fortune, with whom Queen Christina, when they were both in exile, conspired to overturn the comparatively quiet and decorous rule of [Baldomero] Espartero’s Regency, has since that undergone vicissitudes that illustrate the condition of his country: his arbitrary insolence made his presence intolerable; he was overreached by the superior finesse of the intrigante, and driven from the kingdom; he has returned to be spectator of a grand intrigue, which triumphed, but now serves him as a pretext for crying down his fellow-conspiratrix; and it is his turn to try the trick of banishing an inconvenient accomplice.

“I should have murdered him, or he would have murdered me, by this time! It is impossible to say how I hate the villain!” returned Lady Mulgrave, with an energy that bore testimony to the sincerity of her expression. / “Well, I know of a capital revenge we could take on him,” said the conspiratrix.

“We will not summon her,” interposed the Prior of St. John at Dalkeith: “we all hold her to be unworthy of credence—a false speaker—an unmaidenly person—a convicted conspiratrix⸺”

Women took the lead. They were best calculated to manage the Yankees. They were accomplished and beautiful. The Yankees were courteous and susceptible to women, but rough-handed with masculine rebels. This was the view the Southern Ladies’ Aid Society took of it. They condemned discourtesy to the federals. It was not good policy—certainly not lady-like. They “hated the Yankees,” but it was wise to dissemble. These amiable conspiratrices were very adroit, and plied their cunning arts seductively.

“Look at her; think of her, with her pure dream of Italy and her noble devotion. And you permit a doubt to be cast on her!” / “Now, is it not true that you have an idea of the country not being worthy of her?” said Agostino, slyly. “The chief, I fancy, did not take certain facts into his calculation when he pleaded that the conspiratrix was the sum and completion of the conspirator.[…]”

“No, dear, I think that was Hamlet—he is always dressed in black, with bugles, and a high feathered cap to make him look tall. But he wasn’t half so tall as Laërtes at the theatre, after all!” the other sapient young conspiratrix replied.

A “society” star, highly educated, the daughter of a former provincial Governor, and the niece of an officer of high rank in the Russian army—what has brought [Sophia] Perofskaja to be not merely a conspiratrix, but almost the Head-centre of Nihilism?