this angel resignation; and since it seems Heaven’s will, that the sins
and the errors of thy husband should descend upon thy guiltless head, O
let me hope, that with so grievous an addition to my burthen as that
conviction, Heaven will be satisfied, and spare me the pang of having
caused my child’s wretchedness.”
To combat this painful and incessant throe of self-condemnation, Kara
Aziek now roused up her fortitude with her love, and while she exhorted
him to remember that human sufferings are much more frequently promised
to the favorites of God, as trials and perfecters, than as penalties and
punishments, her own spirit was elevated and comforted, and she suddenly
appeared endowed with supernatural strength.
Resigned to bear, because humble and confiding, no voice of lamentation
was heard from the chamber of Sebastian and Kara Aziek. Their dignified
stillness, with their gentle and unresisting looks, sometimes moved even
the rough fellow who supplied them with food to murmur as he left them,
“I shall be sorry to hear that they come to harm.”
Sebastian could take no other advantage of this compassion, than that of
winning from his attendant the name of the Neapolitan Viceroy. He learnt
with pleasure that it was the Count of Lemos, a very old and worthy
Spaniard, who had been nobly entertained at the Portuguese court by Don
Sebastian, and had more than once bravely hazarded advice to him on
important subjects, when his own courtiers shrunk from the delicate
task.
From a nobleman of this character, both Sebastian and Kara Aziek now
ventured to hope for at least an amelioration of their destiny; and with
something like satisfaction beheld their vessel cast anchor in the bay
of Naples. They were speedily conveyed to the castle Del Ovo, a dark and
fearful fortress, now become a prison for criminals. At sight of the
narrow dungeon, without any other furniture than straw, Kara Aziek’s
looks betrayed the sudden horror with which she was seized, “Is it here
we are to linger out our lives?” she exclaimed, sorrowfully.
“I have no instructions to confine you,” observed the man who had
conducted them, “indeed I never heard of any other prisoner than this
gentleman, so you must be content to abide somewhere else.”
He attempted to take her hand to lead her out, but Kara Aziek sprang
back, and Sebastian advanced to deprecate the heaviest of their
misfortunes. The man urged his orders to confine the pretended Calabrian
in a solitary dungeon; Kara Aziek still resisted, she clung to her
husband, wildly exclaiming:
“Kill me--kill me--tear this poor frame to atoms--still will I remain
here.--Surely no force can take me away, if I am resolved to die beside
him.”
Wrung to torture by her frenzy, Sebastian earnestly sued for permission
to detain her. The man’s inclinations were in favour of compliance, but
his life might have been risked by yielding, and promising to urge their
suit in the morning to the Viceroy’s secretary, he reluctantly repeated
his orders.
The arguments and soothings of Sebastian, rather than the explanation
and peremptory behests of the gaoler, allayed the ravings of Kara Aziek;
suddenly she grew calm, started from the ground, and as if alarmed lest
her obstinacy might endanger her husband’s safety, she cried out, “Now,
now I am ready to go!”--a convulsive embrace was exchanged between her
and Sebastian, and the next moment the door of the dungeon closed and
divided them.
“No further!” said she, in a low hurried voice, as the man would have
led her from the spot, “Here is my bed this night--every night--here
will I live till he is restored to me again--force me not from this sad
lodging, if you have love or pity in your heart--I cannot get back to
him--I may but hear his steps and his sighs, and know that he is near
me.--Alas! is that too much of consolation?”
The bitter tears which flowed down her cheeks, and the sorrowful
wringing of her hands, presented so moving a picture, that the
Neapolitan said kindly, “Well, stay here then, I will surely get you
admitted in the morning--what shall I bring you to sleep on?”
“O no sleep--no sleep”--she replied, with joyful wildness, “I will wake
to bless you and to pray for him.” She lightly seated herself on the
stone floor while speaking, and leaning her head against the door of
Sebastian’s cell, remained drinking in at her ear each breath he drew.
Frequently did she long to speak and tell him she was near; but then
conscious that the idea of her being alone and unprotected in an open
passage, exposed to the insults of the wandering guards, and doomed to
rest only on a damp pavement, would overbalance the satisfaction of
hearing her voice, she checked the wish, and relapsed into stillness.
Morning was far advanced when Stephano appeared; he had been to the
secretary and had returned successful. At this intimation, which Kara
Aziek demanded even while he was afar off, she uttered a cry of
transport; it was answered by the voice of Sebastian from within, “Kind
heaven! my Aziek, art thou here again so soon?”
“I have been here the whole night; I would not leave thy door.” While
Aziek was speaking, Stephano unlocked the dungeon, and she flew into the
melancholy, grateful embrace of her husband.
It seemed as if Providence had allotted them this temporary privation
only to make them sensible, that while undivided, they had no right to
abandon themselves to despair. Kara Aziek with overflowing thankfulness
acknowledged this truth, and promised henceforth to grieve no
more.--Stephano passed his hands across his eyes, and replied to some
anxious inquiries of Sebastian.
As it was the most earnest wish of the King to be seen by the Count of
Lemos, he learnt with regret that Lemos was then lying ill of a
dangerous disorder, which devolved his duties upon Sossa, the next
nobleman to him in rank and civil honours. This information was indeed
unwelcome; however, Stephano promised to inquire regularly after the
Viceroy’s health, and to discover whenever his Excellency was in a state
to hear of business.
“I am heartily sorry,” he added, “to be forced to deal hardly with you
and this sweet lady: whatever you be, King or poor Calabrian, you seem
to love your wife, so I would fain make you both comfortable. But the
Auditor-General (he that commands now) has charged me to keep you very
strictly; and since your wife insists on sharing your prison, she is to
be served with bread and water like yourself. I am heartily sorry for
it, Sir, but I must do my duty.”
Sebastian bowed in token of reply, for his emotion choaked him as he
gazed on the heavenly smile which shone through the tears of Aziek; that
smile said how little she regarded the pains and privations of the
body--and at that moment he loved her dearer than ever, for never had
her unrivalled attachment been so perfectly displayed.
Stephano withdrew, leaving the husband and the wife to seek consolation
in the possession of each other’s attachment.
On the fifth morning, Sebastian was surprised by the appearance of the
Auditor-General with his secretaries, who entering his cell, regarded
him some time with severe scrutiny. “I am come hither,” said he, “to
ask you for the first and last time, whether you persist in your
imposture? if you abjure your crime, and consent to make public
confession of it before all men, I am commissioned by our sovereign,
Philip III. to promise you life and liberty: but if you continue thus to
maintain a falsehood, you will either be left to linger out your days on
bread and water, or perish at once by the hands of the executioner. What
is your reply?”
Sebastian turned on him a look of exceeding majesty: “I disclaim your
authority with that of your master, for I am his equal and his kinsman:
let him do with me as he will, I will still call God to witness that I
am that self-same Sebastian King of Portugal, who in the year 1578,
passed into Africa against the Moors; and the very same, who to augment
the name and the power of the Christians, put his life to the hazard,
together with that of twenty thousand brave men, whom his criminal
obstinacy devoted to slaughter. I am that unfortunate Prince, who for
the punishment of his sins lost the battle of Alcazar!--this is a truth
which I may not deny without endangering my immortal soul. Deal with me
as you are commanded, I will continue to utter the same words, in prison
or at the stake.”
Sebastian turned from him as he concluded, and awed by his royal manner,
the auditor with his notaries (who had taken down the King’s words in
writing) departed without further speech.
Day after day now lingered by, and as they passed they cast a deeper
gloom over the prospects of Sebastian. The Count Lemos grew worse, and
Sossa (naturally of a harsh temper, and devoted to Philip) prohibited
the slightest mitigation of suffering to the unfortunate Sebastian.
Not for himself did Sebastian grieve, but for her whose tender heart and
delicate frame, were so ill suited to the rigours of their destiny. Yet
alas! his grief was vain and powerless.
Nearly two weeks had elapsed, when Stephano entered with a glad look, to
communicate the news of Count Lemos’s disorder having taken a favourable
turn; and to assure Sebastian that his friend the secretary (whose
mediation had procured to Kara Aziek the liberty of sharing her
husband’s fate) had promised to inform his master, of the peculiar
severity with which the alleged Calabrian was treated.
The secretary kept his promise. No sooner was Count Lemos in a situation
to investigate business, than he granted Don Sebastian permission to
appear before him, and for that purpose had him brought privately to his
house.
Neither time nor suffering could wholly deface the rare lineaments of
him, who might once have stood forth the model of manly beauty. Lemos
was not long of recognising in this interesting stranger the noble and
heart-winning Sebastian: he looked at him with sorrow and surprize; and
having questioned him on several matters known only to themselves, he
acknowledged himself convinced.
But the old nobleman was too well versed in the character of ambition,
to hope that Philip’s persecution arose from a real belief of imposture:
he justly thought that his august prisoner was secretly devoted to a
lingering death, and thus trusted to his keeping, from the apprehension,
that if brought either into Spain or Portugal, his escape would be
productive of more immediate danger, or his death exasperate the people
into a revolt.
Lemos could only promise what he sincerely meant to perform, a strong
testimonial to the truth of Sebastian, and a consequent remonstrance
with his royal master: should that fail, he must content himself with
watching over the life of his prisoner, and yielding him all the
comforts within his power: to permit his escape, a nice sense of honor
forbade.
“Whatever be the trust reposed in me, Sire!” he said, “if I accept it, I
am bound to hold it inviolate: and as my respect may sweeten your
majesty’s hard destiny, to refuse the charge of your person would be
only to deliver you up into the hands of a severer guardian.”
Too grateful for any amelioration of his fate, since that of Kara Aziek
was inseparable from it, Sebastian urged not a single argument against
the opinion of Count Lemos: he bestowed a warm eulogium upon his justice
and generosity, and accepted with gladness the offer he made him of
future protection.
By Lemos’s orders, the royal prisoners were removed into the best
chamber of the fortress, where Stephano and his sister were permitted to
wait on them. Books, musical instruments, and occasional walks in the
garden, under certain restrictions, now lightened their captivity: air
and better diet quickly restored some bloom to the cheek of Kara Aziek,
and the information (which she covertly obtained during the visit of
Count Lemos) that the Medina Sidonia family remained undisturbed,
brought back some peace to her mind. But anxiety for the ultimate end of
their misfortunes, devoured the inmost part of her heart, and like a
canker-worm, preyed on the source of life.
It was well for Sebastian that some innocent recreations enlivened his
captivity, since the prospect of ever being released, seemed daily less
probable. Philip’s answer to Lemos, had been in his usual strain of
artful moderation: afraid of exasperating that most respectable of his
nobles, into a revolt from his authority, and a public espousal of Don
Sebastian’s interests, he deemed it wise to tolerate him in dispensing
those indulgencies to the prisoner, which he boldly avowed his intention
of always allowing; while at the same time he peremptorily forbade the
viceroy to write or to speak to him in defence of an impostor. This
title Philip scrupled not to give him, in defiance of the Count’s
testimony, being determined to resolve every difficulty into the unreal
solution of those days, absolute sorcery.
Several of the Portuguese, who had openly taken part with Sebastian,
were outlawed, and their properties confiscated: amongst them were Don
Christopher of Crato, and Juan De Castro.
Braganza’s high birth and vast influence alone saved him from feeling
the heaviest weight of Spanish resentment: policy taught Philip not to
exasperate the Portuguese too much, and Braganza was therefore spared.
But in the persons of his retainers he felt the malice of his
rival:--Father Sampayo was cast into the cells of the Inquisition on
spiritual charges; and had not Texere escaped into England, (where Sir
Anthony Shirley for the love he bore his master, granted him an
honorable and safe asylum) he too must have groaned in the same dismal
prison.
Either by threats or bribes, the Spanish King had allured into his
views, nearly all of his courtiers that had been hardy enough to plead
for a fair scrutiny of the pretender. Rome had launched her lightnings
and terrified France again into silence: and in England, the disastrous
fall of Essex, the death of Elizabeth, and the succession of James, had
changed its politics, and rendered any expectation of support from that
quarter a vain chimera.
To pass their lives in the castle Del Ovo, was therefore the last
prospect that remained to Sebastian and to his blameless wife. When our
fate appears inevitable, who is it that weakly continues to contend
against it? Confiding their daughter’s future happiness to Heaven, and
to the Duchess Medina Sidonia, they dried their tears, as they sometimes
flowed, when thinking of their eternal separation, and taught
themselves to rejoice in her liberty.
Of the world they now thought only as of a scene on which they should
never more appear: they banished its hopes, its fears, its anxieties,
and submitting to the divine decree, made their world in each other’s
hearts.
Those qualities which had never failed to attract and to attach every
one within their influence, still continued to win the affections of
whatever persons approached them. Stephano and Baptista privately
confessed to their friends, their admiration of the royal sufferers, and
their firm belief of Sebastian’s just claim on liberty and dominion:
these confidential discourses, spreading from confidant to confidant, at
length diffused throughout Naples so lively an interest in the supposed
impostor, that Sossa and others of Philip’s party became uneasy, and
remonstrated against the indulgence of Count Lemos.
While persisting in his generous line of conduct, the good Lemos was
seized by a return of his disorder, and in a very few days reduced to
the brink of the grave: his son, who was just arrived from the Spanish
court, and who came hotly zealous for the punishment of him, whom Philip
affected to consider a base-born Calabrian, was summoned to the deathbed
of his aged parent.
Count Lemos spoke of the prisoner: having listened patiently to the
short but violent reply of his son, Lemos raised himself on his pillow,
and addressing him with a solemn voice, said, “I am dying, my son! and
the words of a dying man may be trusted.--As I hope for mercy and pardon
at the judgment seat of Christ, I believe this man whom you call an
impostor, to be the true and lawful Sebastian King of Portugal: as such
I charge you (should my government devolve on you) treat him nobly; and
let no worldly honours tempt you to touch his life, or to connive at the
violence of others. Friends! you who surround and hear me at this awful
moment, I charge you all to testify what I have said, and to bear with
it, my dying request to my sovereign master Don Philip: I intreat him
for his soul’s sake, to sift this matter more closely.”
Exhausted by this exertion, Count Lemos stopt, and laid his head back
upon the pillow:--shortly after he breathed his last, and nothing
remained of the venerable old man, but a clay-cold corpse.
This event was a fatal blow to the comparatively happy state of
Sebastian and Kara Aziek: they were immediately remanded back to their
dungeon by Sossa; for Lemos feared Philip too much to obey his departed
father, and compromising with his conscience, by resigning the invidious
task into another’s hand, pretended that an excess of filial grief, made
him unfit to investigate so momentous a subject.
This severe treatment was followed by a visit from the stern auditor:
he came to demand a second time, the outraged King’s reply to his
insulting questions. Again Sebastian declared, that were he to live a
thousand years, and every hour of that long period to be employed in
making the same demand, he could not return any other answer than that
he would live and die professing his truth and his wrongs; that he
appealed to a public trial in his own dominions; that he protested
against the injustice of his kinsman’s proceedings, and would persist in
doing so to his last breath.
“Your sentence is then pronounced,” returned Sossa, as he departed,
“your obstinacy condemns yourself: our illustrious and long-suffering
monarch has condemned you for life to the galleys.”
As the auditor disappeared, Sebastian fixed a fond but sad look on the
agitated features of Aziek. “Faint not, my beloved?” he said, “our
appointed trials must be bravely borne to the last--every species of
oppression and insult are to swell the cup of your Sebastian’s destiny;
but remember the bitterness of that mortal draught is short, in
comparison with the eternal spring, of which, through God’s grace I hope
we shall drink together in Heaven.”
Kara Aziek smiled with a breaking heart, and filled with admiration of
her husband’s magnanimity, earnestly prayed for strength to imitate so
noble an example.
On the day which removed Sebastian to this new scene of misery, he was
led from his prison to be conveyed to the gallies. Lemos and Sossa
believed that to shew this compassionated sufferer to the expecting
crowd under degrading circumstances, would be a surer antidote to their
respect, than if they beheld him brought to public execution: they had
therefore decreed that he should be led through the streets of Naples to
the port, mounted on the most ignoble of animals, and followed by his
faithful Aziek, in the meanest attire.
At the gate of the castle, he beheld multitudes of soldiers and
spectators, and a herald holding the ass upon which he was to mount:[A]
his countenance was unchanged: he placed himself on the lowly animal
with a serene and majestic aspect that might have become a throne; it
ennobled his sorry garments, and touched every beholder with respect and
pity.
[A] This incident is an historical fact.
His eyes, (brightening as he moved) were fixed upon Heaven: it seemed as
if in this triumph over human weakness and human passion, he felt the
blessed earnest of eternal reward.
As Kara Aziek hastened to follow the slow progress of Sebastian, some
unfeeling wretches scoffingly bade her behold the King her husband, and
admire the splendor of his array; she flashed on her insulters a glance
of honourable indignation, for in her heart was love and veneration
united for him they contemned. No fear, no shame could find entrance
there: love raised to enthusiasm by grief and admiration, irradiated her
features, and gave its former bright flush to her burning cheek: a
single black garment wrapt her somewhat wasted figure; her head and feet
were bare, by orders of the merciless Sossa; but those delicate feet
rending their tender surface against the sharp pavement of the streets,
and that hair which fell dishevelled in all its beauty around her,
excited only the more compassion. Beauty is the most touching orator;
and the loveliness of Kara Aziek heightened the effect produced by her
devoted attachment to the husband she followed.
As they moved along, preceded by a herald, proclaiming the offence and
the sentence awarded to Sebastian, the murmurs which at first rose among
the crowd, gradually died away, till an awful and unbroken silence
universally prevailed. The people looked on each other with sorrow and
amazement; while Sebastian now and then removing his eyes from Heaven,
looked round upon the spectators with pardon and pity for their sin of
consenting to so black an act. At times, when the herald called aloud,
“this man whom traitors assert to be the King of Portugal, &c.”
Sebastian would interrupt him in a loud voice, exclaiming, “and so I
am,”--then resuming his calm attitude, proceed in dignified silence.
Arrived at his place of destination, he turned to bid farewel to some of
his humblest friends, whom he recognized amongst the crowd. “Friends!”
he said, “ere you lose sight of me for the last time perhaps, bear
witness that I testify to the truth of my own assertion: I am Sebastian
King of Portugal; this matchless woman my lawful and beloved wife. I
submit humbly to the will of God, not basely to the oppression of man:
my body I account for nothing; and upon that only, may Philip heap
indignity and pain; my soul, is above his reach.
“From such of you as have suffered, or may suffer loss for my sake, I
crave pardon and pity; the most grievous of my sorrow, is the
consciousness of having caused sorrow to others: Heaven will reward you,
since the unfortunate Sebastian has no longer any thing to bestow but
his poor thanks.”
He had scarce spoken, when the sound of weeping was heard, and a woman
pressing forward, threw herself on the earth before him and Kara Aziek:
it was Paula the widow of Gaspar. At sight of her, Sebastian turned pale
from excess of emotion, and tears gushed from his eyes. “My poor
Gaspar!” he exclaimed, “I regretted thee when I should have rejoiced!
hadst thou lived to see this woeful day!”
Sebastian stopt, for Kara Aziek’s long-stifled grief, now burst forth
with such passionate violence at the prospect of separation from him
(for she was denied the consolation of sharing his destiny) that his
fortitude began to faint, and his limbs shook as he sought to support
her.
Meanwhile Paula was calling on the people around, to witness, that since
she now saw the person whom they had taken her to Venice to swear was
Marco Cattizone, she denied his being so; that she recognized in him the
former master of her deceased husband, and not that dear husband
himself. She wept the memory of Gaspar with unfeigned sorrow, which
encouraged Sebastian to require her care of his Aziek, for whom no
better habitation offered an asylum than the humble one of Baptista and
Stephano.
These good people had promised to receive and to comfort Kara Aziek at
the fatal moment in which she must be severed from the partner of her
life. Baptista engaged to effect occasional interviews between the wife
and husband, through her influence over a young man in the galley to
which Sebastian was doomed; and it was from this promise that Kara
Aziek gained strength to live through the wretched scene in which she
was now performing.
Amidst tears, embraces, lamentations, and exhortations, she was torn
from the arms of Sebastian: he was hurried into the galley, and she led
almost lifeless away to the lodging of Baptista.