“My Juan’s answer to this proposed favor, was worthy of his illustrious soul: he told Olivares that the next heir to the crown of Portugal, deemed any other title a degradation rather than a distinction:—he declined the office, and the name annexed to it.”
“There spoke his noble blood!” exclaimed Sebastian, while some youthful fire warmed his veins, “Heaven’s blessing be on him! may he fulfil the prophetichopes which your words kindle in this time-chilled heart!—Go on, sweet daughter! go on!”
Luisa with all the enthusiasm of ardent affection, resumed her discourse.
“The spirit of her noblest Grandee appears to have lighted up a happy flame in the bosoms of a few gallant patriots: whole provinces have refused to follow the banners of Spain in her attempt to recover Barcelona. The city of Evora resisting an oppressive tax lately levied by our foreign governors, have loudly called for their legitimate sovereign, Juan of Braganza: the garrisons, almost emptied of their Spanish soldiers, (for Philip needs every aid in his war with Catalonia and France) offer an easy prey to our countrymen, whenever they shall have courage to assert their independence.
“As yet, no plan has been formed, no absolute party made for either pretender to the succession. The families D’Avegro, and Villa-Real, plead their affinity to the throne; but my husband’s right is too clear for dispute: your’s alone—and O! how joyfully will he bow to it—may pass before him.”
Sebastian smiled, and shook his head, “The world and I, my dear daughter, have long since shaken hands, and said farewel to each other: I have no more to do with its honours or its pleasures: these eyes see but one place of rest, and I am fast hastening to it. Sceptres and crowns, at fourscore years, are the toys and rattles of second childhood, and to desire them is to prove that we are become infants again. To rejoice in the emancipation of Portugal from an oppressive yoke, to rejoice at beholding the reins of her government in young and able hands, is yet permitted me. I would cheerfully devote these grey hairs to the dust, could that effect so blessed an event.
“The groans of a people once too dear to me—ever dear to me—reach my heart even yet. O might I live to see themfreed from their grievous burthen; to see thee, my child, share thy lawful inheritance with my noble kinsman, how would it cheer, how would it exalt my parting soul.”
Luisa was about to answer, when the doors of the saloon opening, discovered a crowd of officers, attendants, and guards, in the midst of whom was the Duke of Braganza. Luisa rose to welcome her husband; and as he dismissed his train, the doors closed again, and he advanced alone into the apartment.
Earnest to observe the countenance of Braganza, Sebastian inclined his venerable person, and lifted up the white locks which obscured his sight. His imagination had represented the husband of Luisa, with a mien dignified, but somewhat austere, and a brow armed with the lofty courage of his conduct. On the contrary, he beheld a man in the prime of life, whose elegantly proportioned figure moved with gentle gracefulness; whose face,(seriously sweet) invited love, destroyed apprehension, and spoke a heart warmed with the most amiable affections.
The soft tenderness of his eyes as he took and kissed the hand of his wife, was suddenly changed into the brightness of glad surprise, when she hastily told him who was awaiting his embrace: Braganza broke away, and hurried to throw himself at the feet of his illustrious relative.
Sebastian bent to raise and to press him in his arms, “I need no other warrant of thy worth, my dear son,” he exclaimed, “than these sweet looks: you are like the noblest child of the Braganza race. My pretty Diego! how freshly I remember him!”
“At what a moment, Sire, do I behold you!” exclaimed Braganza, “the time is critical: Portugal stands on the brink of a great revolution: she is resolved to make one glorious effort—to perish or be free.”
The aged King raised his hands andeyes to heaven in an ecstacy: the Duchess briefly informed her husband of her grandfather’s resolution never to resume the throne which he had so long abandoned. Braganza endeavoured to combat this resolution with the rhetoric of one who speaks from the heart; but Sebastian had reason on his side, and his arguments were unanswerable.
When this amicable contest was ended, the Duke resumed the subject which had led to it. “I am come,” he said, (and as he spoke, his eyes kindled into the fire of enthusiasm) “I am come from a secret assembly of the most potent nobles and citizens in Lisbon: they met at Almeyda, to swear fidelity to each other, and to the sacred cause of freedom. They demand a leader; and it is upon me that they have fixed their eyes. Luisa, I am yours; I am doubly yours, for you have made me a father—it is you therefore that must answer for your Juan. Tell me, sweetest! have you courage to let me share this glorious conflict.”
The eyes of Juan, as he now suffered them to rest solely upon her to whom he spoke, by turns softened and sparkled, as love and patriotism succeeded to displace each other in his mind: those of the hoary-headed Sebastian expressed an apprehensive anxiety.
Luisa’s changing complexion betrayed an inward and a severe struggle; but courageously conquering every selfish care, she looked up, and said firmly, “It is true, you are mine, Juan! but not to the exclusion of sublimer duties and affections: your country’s claims supersede all others. Awful is the thought of what may follow this consent I give; for does not the bolt strike him first who stands on the highest ground? Yet, better to die nobly, than to live meanly!—better to lament a dead hero, than to retain”——“A base coward!” interrupted Braganza, snatching her to his breast with transporting exultation. “O my brave wife! may your spirit animate our boy!”
“Bless thee, mighty God!” cried the aged King, as he rose and extended his hands over the admirable pair, “bless them here and hereafter; and grant that their race may ever sit on the throne of Portugal!”
His august figure, dignified yet further by the sublime emotion which elevated his soul, stood like some time-shattered tower, whose ruins shew its former strength and beauty. Luisa contemplated these remains of the once young and love-inspiring Sebastian, with a melting heart; for she thought of all the events and feelings which had filled his chequered life, and sighed to think how barren and how desolate was that Sebastian now.
Braganza looked at him with respect and admiration: “Honored Sire! dear Father!” he said, “I have but one ardent wish—’tis that I may not disgrace theillustrious blood which flows in my veins. If there be one drop there poisoned by vile ambition, if there be but one that does not flow purely for freedom and my country, may the whole tide that circles through this body, redden the swords of Spain.”
Shuddering at so horrid an image, Luisa threw herself on the neck of her husband and fondly chid him. His smiles and caresses banished alarm, while Sebastian, eager to learn the particulars of an association so fraught with importance, proceeded to inquire the names, characters, and resources of the confederate nobles.
He found that the party which had thus courted the protection of Braganza, consisted of the first families in Portugal; and that the Archbishop of Lisbon, a prelate of great power and probity, had, through the means of the inferior clergy assured himself of the spirit and fidelity of three parts of the people.
The Duchess of Mantua, who governed in quality of Vice-Queen, was in reality but the instrument of Vasconcellos, her secretary. This man, though by birth a Portuguese, was in heart a Spaniard: or rather, was a wretch of such wide ambition, such insatiable covetousness, and such base sensuality, that to gratify these favorite passions, he was ready to trample on the mother who bore him.
His licentious conduct, dissolute life, cruelties, extortions, and insults, had by degrees, exasperated the Portuguese into the most deadly animosity: to this private hatred was added the stronger sentiment of national honour, and the animating one of attachment to the person of Braganza.
Nothing could be more ardent or universal than the latter sentiment. Braganza’s noble spirit pervaded every place: his bounties flowed into the remotest corners of the kingdom; and while the splendor of his household, his retinue, hisequipages, his entertainments, and his palaces, kept in perpetual freshness the remembrance of his royal birth, the ceaseless dew of his secret charities fell all around, penetrating the hearts of men with gratitude and with love.
In public, his magnificent train, and serious dignity of manner, preserved to him that profound respect, which should ever follow distinguished personages: in private the sweetness of a benign and smiling temper, the graces of a refined taste, the charm of every accomplishment, and the rivetting talisman of goodness, added affection to respect, and turned admiration into enthusiasm. He was beloved, he was venerated throughout Portugal; and so evident was the dominion he had acquired over his countrymen, that not even the Machiavalian Olivares, though trembling at his power, dared openly arraign or stop his course.
There was something strikingly different in the present spirit of Portugal, fromthat irresolute, fearful conduct, which had palsied her exertions for her legitimate sovereign: Sebastian could not refuse a sigh to the remembrance. Then, not even the probable assistance of other powers, stimulated them into open insurrection: now, they were nobly resolved to free themselves, unsupported by other aid than God and their own arms.
While he was thus revolving past events, the memory of his dearest friend often mingled with these thoughts, and by a natural association, reminded him that Caspar had left a son. “Where is he?” he exclaimed abruptly, pursuing his thoughts aloud, “twelve years ago, I was told that he belonged to your household, my son?”
“Of whom do you speak, Sir!” asked the Duchess.
“Of Juan Pinto Ribeiro,” replied Sebastian.
The Duke’s features beamed with pleasure. “You ask after the most attachedand estimable of my servants,” he said, “Pinto has always studied with me, travelled with me, lived with me more like a brother than a domestic: he is the comptroller of my household; and it is to him I believe myself indebted for the universal suffrages of my countrymen. His love for me and his devotion to our country, are sentiments of equal strength in his excellent heart.”
“What do I hear?” exclaimed Sebastian in extreme emotion, tears trickling down his cheeks, “is it the son of my faithful Caspar that you thus commend! O my children, so many feelings, long, long since laid to sleep in this heart, now awake and overcome me, that I know not myself. Joy, and the recollection of other days, make an infant of me.”
Sebastian bowed his venerable head, and as he did so, a slight colour flushed his pale face; for now he wept uncontrolled, and was ashamed of his weakness.
Braganza respected his age and his tears, and drawing Luisa away to the couch of their son, they leaned over it together, occupying their attention with his childish beauty.
After some moments silence, the King resumed in a low, faltering voice. “Let me see Ribeiro! after that I will take some rest:—my spirit is more wearied than my body, yet both require repose.”
The Duke hastened to gratify his royal kinsman, and sending for Pinto, (who was the confidential person appointed to carry his final answer to the confederates) he led him up to Sebastian.
Some faint resemblance to his father, (a likeness rather of lineament than of countenance) powerfully affected the venerable monarch: Pinto was nearly the age that Gaspar was when he left his master for the last time at Villa Rosolia, and this circumstance heightened the effect of the resemblance. Sebastian frequently embraced him, and as frequentlyrepeated the name of his dead friend: he wistfully examined the face before him, but he did not find it the exact counterpart of Gaspar’s.
Pinto’s eyes and air had the fire of his Italian mother: his look was neither so mild nor so tender as his father’s; but it was more pregnant with resolution and talent; it announced him what he was, an intrepid, ardent, faithful, and enterprizing man.
Sebastian did not require a second glance at this luminous countenance to decide that Pinto would be the spring and the mover of the Revolution they meditated. After conversing with him awhile, and hearing anew the most momentous details connected with the great event in hand, Sebastian retired, at the pressing instance of his lovely grandchild, who watching the fluctuations of his venerable face, grew fearful that he might suffer from so much emotion, and at length succeeded in leading him to a chamber.
Pinto’s arrival in Lisbon was the signal for active measures: each noble hurried to his paternal residence, where they severally employed themselves in secretly securing the support of their tenantry, and their retainers. The clergy awakened the consciences of their parishioners by painting resistance as a duty, submission as a crime; they explained the right of Braganza, while they demonstrated the comparative insufficiency of Philip’s title to the crown of Portugal. The merchants animated each other with the view of their present humiliation and their past power; and the starving artizans whom Pinto sought out and relieved, owing their lives to his generous master, professed themselves eager to risk those lives for his advancement.
These springs, though privily worked, were visible in their effects. An impatience of Spanish oppression, with occasional demonstrations of contempt, or of hatred, began to occur in every place; Vasconcellos was alarmed, yet he knewnot on whom to fix the eye of suspicion: for Braganza was retired into the bosom of his own family at Villa Viciosa, remote from the capital, enjoying himself as usual in the peaceful pleasures of study, hawking, hunting, and elegant society.
The venerable stranger who was now and then to be seen coming forth upon the arm of Luisa to breathe the clear air of the parks, or the sweeter breeze of the gardens, was an object of no curiosity to any of the Spaniards: Braganza’s palace was so often the asylum of age, misfortune, and helplessness, that an individual just standing on the brink of eternity excited no suspicion. Sebastian therefore, dwelt under the protection of the last of his race, in happy security: his sun was about to set; but it was sinking beneath a cloudless horizon, to rise again in the region of everlasting bliss.
While his judgment steadily scanned and approved all the sentiments, feelings, and actions of the amiable and admirableBraganza; while he marked the brightness of a soul which no passions obscured, and felt the benign influence of a disposition diffusing happiness like light, he became sensible to a solicitude for the event of the revolution, which entirely banished his long though hardly acquired repose. At every dispatch from Pinto, his aged frame shook with strong emotion; but fortune appeared inclined to favour the good cause, and the heroism of Luisa communicated its own ardour to her parent.
In the midst of this anxiety, an order arrived from the court of Spain, demanding the attendance of the Duke of Braganza at Madrid. The reason assigned for this requisition was plausible and difficult to evade! for Olivares artfully declared that his august master, grieved at the misery which he was told pervaded Portugal, was determined to investigate the cause, find out and punish the authors, be they who they might, and finally placeat the head of the government one of its own Princes.
To refuse attendance after such a declaration, was impossible to Braganza, if he would retain a title to his country’s affection, or conceal from Olivares that he knew his destructive intentions: he was obliged to return an evasive answer, which implied that he would appear at Philip’s court, when he could draw around him a train befitting his high rank.
At the suggestion of his wife, whom love made politic, he dispatched this reply by one of his household, who was charged to hire a superb mansion, engage servants, purchase magnificent furniture, in short amuse Olivares by the shew of preparing for the reception of his master and his suite.
So alarming a command as that which would deprive them of their leader, quickened the exertions of the confederates: itwas necessary to establish strong parties throughout every province, to gain the soldiery, to secure the possession of the arsenal, to win over the keepers of prisons, that all confined for resistance to Spanish tyranny might be set free; in short, that the whole kingdom might rise at once in one body, as if by an electric touch, and displace the Vice-Queen without tumult, and without massacre.
To effect these purposes, required more time than it appeared prudent to allow at a period like this: for messengers came daily from Spain, expostulating with the Duke on his disrespectful tardiness.
Pinto, who had secretly and rapidly made the circuit of all the towns devoted to his master’s interest, at length ventured to pronounce that the trial might be hazarded.
The regiment of Braganza, he had contrived to get stationed at Elvas and Olivenza, two frontier fortresses, which may be called the keys of Portugal; these he intendedshould form a barrier against the Spaniards, should any obstacle arise in the kingdom itself, and might keep them in check till the revolution was completely effected.
Humanely desirous to avoid the effusion of blood, Braganza would not suffer a step to be indiscreetly taken; and Sebastian exhorted Pinto to avoid temerity, if he would ensure success without slaughter.
They were yet agitating the subject, when an express from Madrid demanding the appearance of Braganza before the expiration of six days under pain of forfeiting his estates, decided the debate, and rendered immediate action a deed of necessity. Pinto proceeded instantly to Lisbon, circulated the news through the city, and at midnight assembled the principal patriots, concerted with them fit measures for securing the persons of the Vice-Queen and her secretary.
It was agreed that four resolute bands, of a hundred men each, should, at a given signal, seize upon the four avenues of the palace, while the Portuguese regiment of cavalry (then quartered in the city) should ride through the streets, proclaiming Juan the IVth, and calling on the other citizens to join their party. The archbishop undertook to appear at the head of all the religious orders, animating the people to take the side of justice and of national honour; and the artizans, headed by the most popular and intrepid of their order, were pledged to hold themselves in readiness to rush out completely armed, and follow the standard of Braganza.
To every city, and every garrison, hurried some noble or some officer, all sworn to rise and proclaim Juan the IVth at the same hour. Braganza, under the pretext of paying his respects to the Vice-Queen, ere he set out for Spain, removed from Villa Viciosa to a hunting seat opposite Lisbon, where he waited the event with some perturbation of heart.
Sebastian and Luisa were his companions: awful was the time to both!—Sebastian saw the fate of his country in the balance,—the lives and liberties of millions; Luisa beheld a crown and an axe suspended over the head of him she loved beyond all former love. Braganza was the most tranquil, and the most confident, for he knew his own disinterestedness, and trusted to receive the blessing which virtuous motives almost warrant man to expect from a just and approving Being.
The night fixed upon by the confederate patriots now arrived; it was the sixth of December, an hour before that which was to decide the fortunes of Braganza. Pinto came to receive his master’s latest instructions, and to conjure him not to delay providing for his safety by means of a vessel which his careful friends hadsecured in case of failure, should Providence destine Spain to triumph.
As he embraced his zealous adherent, Braganza whispered in a low, but firm voice, “I go to a throne, or to death: would you that I should outlive the brave friends that must have fallen, ere flight be my only refuge? No Pinto! my resolution was taken long since: I rise or fall with Portugal.”
Luisa heard not this declaration, but her eye caught the strong beam of Braganza’s, as it flashed an answer to the approving look of Sebastian, and she felt that her husband’s soul dilated with some great resolve. Her heart dared not question him; it dared not question itself:—alas! to imagine for an instant, that he, in whom all joy, all delight, were summed up, that he who was indeed her earthly god, should be ravished from her fond arms, and doomed to the death of a rebel, was to think herself into frenzy. She hastily dismissed the image, and smilingthrough tears, gave her hand to Pinto, who respectfully kissing it, uttered some inspiriting words, and disappeared.
Almost total silence followed the departure of Pinto. At length the clock striking eight, told them that “the work was begun.” Sebastian started up at the first stroke of the bell, but immediately sitting down again, he stroked back his grey hair with a trembling hand, and said, sighing, “These white locks, and this boyish eagerness, are not well-suited, my children! we think our characters changed, when the change is only in our circumstances: for thirty long years, scarcely any event has moved me strongly, and now I am all weak agitation.”
“Hurry not yourself, dear father!” said Luisa, “by giving that name to honourable feeling: as the soul draws nearer to her divine source, ought not her powers to brighten, her sensibilities to increase? I see no virtue in apathy.”
Sebastian turned on her a grateful andgratified look: Braganza spoke not; his thoughts were so entirely absorbed by one momentous object, that he neither heard nor saw what passed around him.
Suddenly confused sounds proceeded from the distant city, shouts, shrieks, the clamour of alarm bells, the trampling of horses, the beat of drums, proclaimed the confusion which reigned throughout Lisbon; amongst the uproar, Braganza listened for the sound of artillery; none was heard; at this circumstance his hopes expanded, and he exclaimed aloud, “All then goes well!”
Pale with anxiety, yet bright with heroism, Luisa sat by the side of her venerable grandsire, alternately returning the agitated pressure of his hand, or the inquiring glance of his eye; their beating hearts kept time with each other; but as they looked on the inspiring countenance of Braganza, apprehension gave way to hope, and hope to security.
The signal of success at last was heard;a cannon fired from the citadel, announced that Lisbon was in the hands of the patriots, that the Duke of Braganza was proclaimed King.
At this welcome sound, the transported Luisa threw herself into the arms of her lord; she intended to salute him by his new title, but love alone spoke, and half fainting with sweet emotion, she could but murmur out, “Juan, my dear, dear husband.”
Braganza strained her to his breast, his fine countenance all glowing with patriot joy, then eagerly snatching the hand of the majestic old man, he exclaimed,—“Hasten! hasten, my father! that is the call for me,—our country, our beloved country is unchained.”
A deeper flush illumined his face as he spoke, and the ardour of his feelings burst forth in tears. It was not usual for Braganza to weep, and these tears gave testimony to the noble source whence they flowed.
Yielding to the impulse of his hand, Sebastian and Luisa hastened with him out of the house; his servants had already prepared every thing for their instant conveyance to Lisbon; they crossed over, and entered the city.
Sebastian had followed, pale, silent, and uncertain; so many reverses, so many unforeseen shocks had assaulted him at periods of his greatest prosperity, that now he hesitated to believe too soon, or to trust the evidence of other senses than his own.
The gates of Lisbon were thrown open; they were crowded with armed citizens, wearing the colours of the Braganza’s on their caps and scarfs; the banners of Portugal waved from every public building, the convents and the houses were lighted up, and the whole city resounded with the cry of “Long live Juan the IVth, King of Portugal and of the Indies.”
Pinto met his new sovereign at the entrance of the palace: he fell at his feet,and his manly countenance was overflowed with tears; he attempted to speak, but could not. The archbishop, the clergy, the nobles, and the other patriots, hailed their King with loud and repeated acclamations.
“Where is the Duchess of Mantua?” asked Braganza, pausing, ere he passed the threshold, “My friends, let her be respected, and honourably conducted beyond the frontier. No blood I hope will flow.”
“One victim only!” exclaimed a bold young man, starting forward, and advancing a sword yet red with blood. “This sword (be it enrolled and sainted for the deed) searched the heart of Vasconcellos. I found him hidden in the Vice-Queen’s chamber: I drew the quivering villain forth, and at the same moment a hundred weapons was in his breast. The tyrant is dead! I cried, let liberty live, and Don Juan King of Portugal! At that cry, all Lisbon echoed a shout of triumph, theSpaniards dropt their useless arms, and the contest was ended.”
“The Duchess of Mantua has been removed to Xabregas, Sire,” said Pinto, who now found voice to speak. “The citadel, the arsenal, the fleet, all is your Majesty’s. Vasconcellos alone has perished, and his crimes called for the vengeance of heaven.”
Braganza, bowed in token of assent, ashamed of the momentary pang which the death even of one person caused to his humane heart: he then turned to the surrounding multitude, and with an air at once full of thankfulness and of dignity, acknowledged the services of his friends; promised love and protection to his people; and recommending to them all, mercy towards their unresisting enemies, retired into the palace.
While these things were transacting, Sebastian appeared to have been standing in a trance: he now moved slowly on supported between the young King andQueen, who anxiously watched his varying looks.
They entered the state apartment: their august companion would have sat down on the first chair he reached, but Braganza gracefully checking him, led him from it, and placed him, ere he was aware, on the throne itself. Sebastian bowed his head with a divine smile; his heart was agitated, was oppressed beyond utterance; for the visions of his youth were present here.
This throne, these royal banners, these armorial trophies which witnessed the heroic exploits of his ancestors, those illustrious portraits covering the walls, the very consciousness that he was in his own palace, and that even so, another prince was its master, all united to shake his frame with emotions beyond its strength. But regret mixed not with the sentiment: it was a solemn and an awful fulness of contentment.
He looked down and beheld the amiable Juan with his lovely consort, kneeling before him: their train were left in the outer chamber, and Pinto alone remained. Beyond the palace walls, the city still rung with shouts of “Long live our King!” and still the proud discharge of ordnance shook the buildings around.
Sebastian’s eyes wandered over the illuminated countenances of his grand children, with an expression of celestial satisfaction; yet he was mortal pale, and his hands, as he laid them on the heads of Juan and Luisa, were damp and chilling. “Give me that babe!” he said, after having blessed the parents. Luisa laid it on his arms.
Sebastian received the boy with trembling avidity:—as he bent to kiss his infant cheek, his silver locks sweeping over the eyelids of the little Prince, awoke him, and he looked smiling up. A nobler smile (for it was radiant with the immortal spirit) lighted up the face of the aged King, he leaned back in the royalchair, he looked at the son of Gaspar, then at Braganza and Luisa, cast a last glance at their child, thought of them he was hastening to rejoin, and fixing his eyes on heaven, he feebly exclaimed, “Die, die! thou hast lived long enough.”
His eyes closed as he spoke, and Luisa starting up to catch her falling babe, discovered that the soul had indeed ascended to happiness and its God!
FINIS.J. M‘Creery, Printer,Black-Horse Court, London.
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Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
the paroxym is=> the paroxysm is {pg 25}
has supplicating whine=> his supplicating whine {pg 30}
would be uncontrolable=> would be uncontrollable {pg 33}
the gaurantee on the part=> the guarantee on the part {pg 41}
as a deposite for=> as a deposit for {pg 47}
direcly in front=> directly in front {pg 62}
seating his exhaused=> seating his exhausted {pg 144}
had directed Guiseppe => had directed Giuseppe {pg 160}
take a dicisive part=> take a decisive part {pg 163}
affected reunnciation=> affected renunciation {pg 189}
To the prison del Ovo=> To the prison Del Ovo {pg 191}
some of the groupe=> some of the group {pg 237}
displayed the amour=> displayed the armour {pg 239}
its precints=> its precincts {pg 245}
more distintly=> more distinctly {pg 263}
base sensualiy=> base sensuality {pg 297}