fiery King of Portugal submitting to his destiny with a resignation that
gave a dignity to humiliation: he arraigned not Providence, for he
remembered his past bigotry; and though the humanity of his nature had
prevented him from carrying his zeal into absolute persecution, he
ventured not to say how far that zeal might eventually have transported
him; devising it just that he should find his present punishment from
that disposition in others, which he had cherished in himself.
Even the most merciless of his oppressors in Naples, dared not outrage
that dignity which awed them, by insisting on his labouring like a
criminal at the oar: he was condemned to the galley merely as to a more
public prison. Philip thus making a show of believing that the more he
was seen, the less he would be credited; but in reality hoping that one
of those malignant fevers common to the galleys, would soon send him to
another world.
Stephano kept his word, and procured more than one meeting between the
royal sufferers. Paula undertook to transmit an account of the King’s
situation to his kinsman Braganza, by whom her infant was now protected.
She herself was thus far on her way to rejoin the Duchess of Medina
Sidonia in Spain, whither Paula found her gone to take leave of a dying
friend. Paula used all her rhetoric to persuade Kara Aziek to accompany
her: but not even the temptation of beholding Blanche again, could
swerve the conjugal love of Aziek: she was determined to follow the fate
of her husband, wherever it might lead; and as the Duchess held in her
possession the little remnant of their wealth, and might transmit it
through Paula, Aziek resolved to avail herself of Stephano’s protection,
and dwell at least in the vicinity of the galleys.
Charged with letters to their beloved child, and to the Duchess, in
which the anxious parents besought all efforts for their own happiness
to cease, and nothing be attempted but for that of Blanche, Paula
departed from Naples.
No sooner was the injured King of Portugal placed in a situation which
exposed him to all eyes, than crowds flocked to see and to converse with
him. Every day, every hour, produced fresh testimonies to his truth: and
had not religious prejudices enfeebled their compassion, and lowered
their respect, the Neapolitans would have joined the loyal Portuguese
in rescuing him by force from the galleys.
This universal discontent so far alarmed the new Count Lemos, that he
dispatched a messenger to Madrid, with a detail of what he feared: the
consequence of his dispatch, was an order for the galleys to quit the
Mediterranean and come down to the western coast of Spain.
Not even this change, could divide Kara Aziek from Sebastian: she
followed him in a little vessel bound for the same port, accompanied by
Baptista, whom kindness and fidelity had endeared to her, and rendered
her chief solace.
The galleys were commanded to ride in the bay of St. Lucar: and at St.
Lucar Kara Aziek took up her abode.
Unknown and unnoticed, she depended solely on the humanity of Baptista’s
lover, for distant interviews with her husband.
The saddest period of Kara Aziek’s life was now present: she lived
forlorn of every comfort except only the humble attentions of her
servant, and the occasional sight of him from whom she once fondly hoped
nothing less than death would ever have parted her. She beheld this
object of her heart’s idolatry, loaded with chains, and condemned to the
vilest of human stations: her imagination pictured the closing scene of
this dismal tragedy, and presented him at the stake, or on the block.
Her amiable daughter was now far away, and too probably the eyes of each
fond parent would close for ever without beholding her again. Their
private friends were dead, or dispersed; their more potent ones, the
sovereigns of Europe, changed by circumstances, or rendered powerless
from necessities of their own. All around was dark and dreary; and
wherever she looked, still the same black horizon shut in her fate.
Where is the spirit that can resist calamities so heavy? Religion may
enable us to curb complaint, to submit with humility and a thorough
conviction that he who ordains, is all-wise, and all good; but not even
religion can benumb “the nerve whence agony is born:” The heart may
break while it yields.
Kara Aziek felt hers to be fast decaying: sorrow wasted her bodily
strength, and with it her mental energy. A deep sadness was fixed upon
her countenance, and heavy and continual sighs (of which she was herself
unconscious) told the attached Baptista, that her suffering mistress was
hastening to the repose of Heaven.
At this period, Baptista unexpectedly heard that the family of Medina
Sidonia had a residence in the neighbourhood of St. Lucar, and were
coming to visit it: she imparted this to Kara Aziek, believing Paula
likely to be in the Duchess’s suite, and knowing of no other interesting
object; this intelligence lifted up the soul of the fond mother; she
hazarded a letter to the Duchess through the medium of Paula, and
remained with trembling eagerness anticipating an answer.
CHAP. VII.
Some days had passed in anxious expectation, when in the dusk of
evening, a man in a domestic’s habit appeared at the obscure abode of
Baptista, and announcing himself sent by the Duchess Medina, urged
admittance to Kara Aziek. She received him alone.
Having cautiously closed the door, the stranger threw off his cloak and
hat, and Kara Aziek saw at her feet a young and handsome man, on whose
intelligent countenance nature’s hand had stamped truth and goodness.
“It is the Queen of Portugal to whom I bend my knee?” said the animated
youth, with a look that demanded if he were right. Kara Aziek answered
with ready tears, “Alas! it is the most desolate of women--the
wife of him whom would to God I could say was not born to a throne
but you come from the Duchess of Medina Sidonia--know you her young
companion--Blanche?”
A graceful disorder appeared on the face of the stranger, as with
deepened colour and a fluttering voice, he replied that she was even
then near St. Lucar. Kara Aziek clasped her hands together in an ecstasy
of gratitude: but the emotion of the stranger did not escape her; and
his menial habit so ill suited to the elegance of his air, made her
attach an agitating meaning to the emotion he betrayed.
“I do not see a domestic of the Duchess Sidonia’s?”
“No, Madam--you behold her son.”
Don Hyppolito now put into her hands a letter from his mother, which
Kara Aziek eagerly read. It informed her that Hyppolito was zealous in
the cause of Don Sebastian, though wholly ignorant of their lovely
ward’s connexion with his fate; that the Duchess was eager to afford the
parents a sight of their daughter; and that the Duke having been
fortunately importuned by all the Spanish grandees around, to visit the
newly arrived galley, in which the King of Portugal was confined, in
order to disprove the impostor from his personal knowledge of the true
Sebastian, he had seized the opportunity of yielding to his own earnest
desire, and was come openly to St. Lucar for the avowed purpose.
Desirous of bringing the mother and child to an immediate meeting, the
good Duchess had sent her son (disguised thus to prevent observation)
with orders to attend Kara Aziek to their dwelling near the town.
Hyppolito (thus ended the letter) has no suspicion of the relationship
we so religiously conceal, it will depend on yourself and the royal
Sebastian, whether he may ever be so greatly trusted.
But Hyppolito scarcely needed to be now informed of the momentous
secret; the likeness to Blanche, which a lover’s eye directly
discovered, together with a recollection of Blanche’s distracted
sympathy with the sufferings of the King and Queen of Portugal, and now
the wild joy of Kara Aziek, all united to shew him the fact. Trouble and
apprehension succeeded to his lively enthusiasm; and a multitude of
strange pangs seized his young heart, as he prepared to lead forth the
trembling mother.
During their hasty, and rather long walk, no words were exchanged
between them; Hyppolito stopped under the high wall of a garden, and
opening a small door concealed by trees, conducted Kara Aziek in. The
next moment brought them to a pavilion, where he would have left his
companion to enter alone, (so his mother had instructed him) but
detaining him by the arm, she exclaimed in a low voice, “O no--leave me
not--I owe you the reward of seeing how happy you have made me.”
Hyppolito caught at the permission; he pushed open the door, and the
next moment beheld the mother and the daughter senseless in each other’s
arms.
Joy and grief so blended, were too powerful for their hearts: nature
sunk under such a meeting, and it was long ere the Duchess and her son
succeeded in restoring them to life.
Sorrowful happiness was that which the young Hyppolito now witnessed; no
sounds, save those of weeping and sighing, were heard through the
apartment. Though the mother and daughter fondly embraced, fondly gazed
on each other, their hearts were full of Sebastian, and incapable of
real joy.
The tears of Blanche flowed with redoubled impetuosity whenever she
looked on her mother. What a change did she see in that face and that
figure! as her eyes wildly noted the ravages made there by sickness and
sorrow, cold chills crept through her veins; she felt that a moment was
approaching in which she would require the consolation of some object
equally dear, and her eyes then sought those of him to whom her innocent
heart unconsciously trusted for all its future comfort. Hyppolito’s soul
speaking from his face, answered the supplication of hers: he advanced,
and joining the hands of Kara Aziek and her daughter, in one of his, he
pressed them with trembling lips, while a tear fell from his cheek upon
the hand of Blanche. Kara Aziek smiled benignly, and returned the
affectionate pressure.
To proclaim her maternal claim on the love of Blanche, seemed needless;
but Kara Aziek gratified the Duchess by requesting her to place that
confidence in the young Hyppolito. After a hasty explanation, the
Duchess ventured to offer some incitement to hope of better days,
lamented the circumscribed power of her husband, but assured Kara Aziek,
that after he had seen Don Sebastian, by the desire and in the society
of those noblemen who had urged him to the interview, and had convinced
himself, by ocular proof of his identity, he would boldly publish the
truth at all hazards. The Duke was now absent at the Governor of St.
Lucar’s, but the morrow was pitched on for his visit to the galleys.
This information infused a faint hope through the bosom of his wife; she
recovered by degrees from the excess of her first emotion, and remained
till night was far advanced, tasting a sad pleasure in noticing the
ardent and respectful passion which now blazed out, now receded from the
fine eyes of Hyppolito, and fitfully coloured the cheeks of the bashful
Blanche.
This love unknown to themselves, even while for ever felt, was not
unmarked by the Duchess; and her looks had already interrogated those
of Kara Aziek, with a sort of pleadingness for her son’s happiness,
which gave the most solid satisfaction to the anxious mother.
Kara Aziek returned from this interview with a placidity long unknown to
her; and Baptista, who merely guessed that she had been visiting Paula,
made no inquiries, contented to observe that her mistress was really
less dejected than usual.
But violent emotions, whether sad or exhilarating, are equally dangerous
to a weakened frame: Kara Aziek was unable to rise from her humble couch
on the ensuing morning, when Hyppolito came to inform her he was going
with his father to recognize Don Sebastian.
Her death-like paleness (over which a smile of grateful regard cast the
brightness of immortal beauty) touched the romantic heart of Hyppolito,
and as he earnestly regarded the lovely wreck before him, love and pity
inspired him with the determination of attempting something to smooth
at least, her departing hour.
Having received a tender message for Don Sebastian, he hurried back to
Blanche, whose duteous love did not wait for the disclosure of his wish
ere it prompted her to exclaim. “So ill! so desolate!--O, Hyppolito,
since my dear mother may not dwell here unsuspected, I will go to her
habited less gaudily: confined to her sick chamber alone, in such an
obscure quarter of the city, who will know the adopted child of the
Duchess Medina Sidonia?--Some excuse may be invented for my absence, to
prevent the curiosity of domestics--Ah! if she were to be torn from me,
without my having the consolation of----”
Tears choaked her utterance, and covering her face, she remained
abandoned to sorrow, while Hyppolito was urging the Duchess to sanction
their pious project.
What mother could refuse such pleadings? Blanche was allowed to follow
the impulse of filial tenderness; her dress was secretly exchanged for
one of Paula’s, and gliding unseen through the garden, Hyppolito
conducted her out of the private door, and led her safely to the arms of
her expecting mother.
The ardent young man had not time to do more than kiss the hand of Kara
Aziek, ere he ran off to join his father, and the rest of the grandees.
Accompanied by his wife, the Duke of Sidonia proceeded to the shore; his
aspect was grave and thoughtful; for he was reflecting on the wondrous
vicissitudes of our mortal life. That unfortunate Prince, upon whom all
men might now gaze unchecked, all tongues move in reviling, was that
same Sebastian whom Medina had last beheld, surrounded by power and
majesty. It was that King whom Medina had himself served twenty years
before, with submissive awe; whom he had feasted and entertained with
tilt, and tournament, and ball, while he waited at Cadiz for the troops
of Philip II. These reflections occupied the Duke till his company
reached and mounted the chief galley.
Hyppolito was the first to spring on deck: he looked eagerly round, and
immediately singled out the august object of his search. Removed from
the other slaves, in a lonely quarter of the ship, he saw a man seated,
with his arms folded, and his head bent towards the ground; his single
garment was coarse and dark; his head and limbs were without covering;
but the large and noble proportions of those once powerful limbs, and
the majestic air of that head, denoted him to be the King of Portugal.
Hyppolito hastily advanced, and his quick breathing stirred the
attention of Sebastian; he looked up, his eyes met those of Hyppolito,
who felt them enter into his soul. By a sudden impulse, the young man
half bent his knee; surprise and inquiry illuminated the countenance he
was observing. Sebastian slowly arose, and as he did so, his youthful
companion heard the clank of chains.
Such an expression of shame and indignation banished the air of
veneration with which Hyppolito was looking at him, that Sebastian
understood what passed in his mind. “Young man,” said he, “blush not for
me--blush for my oppressors, and my coward friends!--deserved punishment
is disgrace--but unmerited oppression, if nobly borne, is glory!”--He
moved away as he concluded, leaving Hyppolito gazing after his kingly
step, and yet--commanding figure.
The vessel was soon crowded with illustrious visitants from the yacht of
Medina Sidonia; the captain of the galley understanding their errand,
shewed the Duchess and her company to a wider part of the deck, and sent
to inform Sebastian that they entreated to see him. He turned back with
the captain, and calmly advanced into the circle formed by his
examiners.
The Duchess who had last met him at Villa Rosolia, under such different
circumstances, almost uttered a cry of melancholy welcome: her company
burst forth into remarks and questionings: the Duke remained on one
spot, steadily eyeing the figure before him.
So long was his scrutiny, that some of the group impatiently demanded
whether the man they saw, were not really an impostor. Medina suffered
them to importune him for an answer, and at length seriously replied,
“Am I to speak the truth my lords?--I declare then, that in the voice
and mien of this stranger, I recognize the very voice and mien of the
King of Portugal. The alteration I find in his face and figure, is only
such as twenty years of suffering might be expected to produce.”
“What then, you believe he is Don Sebastian? You assert it?”
“I assert nothing: persons and voices may resemble; but in events we
cannot be mistaken. If this be the King, whom I entertained at Cadiz,
ere his expedition to Africa, he will be able to point out to me amongst
some armour which I have had brought hither, the present he made to me
at that period.”
“I gave thee a sword, Sidonia!” said Sebastian, “and I think I should
remember it again.”
The surrounding nobles, with dismay and surprise, followed the Duke to
the stern of the galley, where some attendants had just arrived with a
heap of swords, spurs, curious pistols, and daggers. The Duke silently
pointed out to them all, the weapon given him by the King, which being
less costly than any of the others, was the least likely to be guessed
at as a royal gift.
Sebastian, who had remained exchanging looks of interesting meaning with
the protectress of his daughter, courteously went to meet the returning
party; an old servant displayed the armour: Hyppolito bent anxiously
forward, fearful, that if the King’s memory failed of retaining such a
trifle, they who chose to cavil at this truth, might seize so plausible
a pretext, and pronounce his father deceived.
But, at the first glance, Sebastian recognized his own plain sword, and
drew it from beneath a heap of others. “With this sword did I make thee
a knight of Avis!” he said, sorrowfully, “O sad remembrance! for what a
train of bitter recollections is in its train!”
“Now, my lords, what say you?” exclaimed the indiscreet
Hyppolito,--“should you not bow your knee and acknowledge the royal
kinsman of our sovereign Philip of Spain, and should we not all join in
bringing this convincing proof to his abused ear?”
Most of the nobles, who well knew that the ear of Philip was wilfully
stopt, fell back, murmuring “Sorcery or accident,” while others
expressed their conviction, but lamented their want of influence. The
captain of the galley stood with an air of sincere remorse, which did
not escape Hyppolito. The old servant holding the armour, having
carefully examined the lineaments of the King, added his testimony to
that of his master. The deck of the galley became for a while a scene of
confusion and strong emotion. Sebastian alone, was little moved; he was
no longer to be deceived by vain hopes; he knew that all those people
would go home convinced of his truth, pitying his misfortunes, and
earnest in wishing them at an end; but that in a short time their wonder
and their concern would cease; he would be forgotten, and left to his
fate.
With Medina Sidonia he conversed aloud on various subjects, calculated
to place his integrity under a yet broader light; the gratitude he felt
for the protection afforded to his daughter, gave warmth to his manner,
and attracted the heart of Don Hyppolito.
Upon that young man Sebastian cast many approving looks, for there was a
careless intrepidity in the young Spaniard’s manner, and an ardent
precipitation in his speech, which announced a generous and a brave
character. Sebastian loved such characters, and he therefore beheld the
homage of Hyppolito with engaging benignity.
The grandees who accompanied Medina Sidonia forcibly betrayed an extreme
anxiety to depart; the Duke requested them to stay a moment.
“Nobles!” he said, “it was through your importunities that I came hither
to determine on the truth or falsehood of the illustrious person before
us, when you intreated me, you all promised to bear witness to the
faithful testimony I should give, whatever that might prove him. I now
insist upon your performance of this promise, and require that you set
off with me on the instant for the court of our royal master, in order
that he may hear from us together, the singular circumstances of this
morning. That done, the event remains in our sovereign’s breast; we
shall have acquitted ourselves to God, to our conscience, and to this
injured monarch.”
Ashamed of opposing so equitable a demand, and trusting to private
representations of their own unwillingness, the nobles were obliged to
assent, and taking leave of Don Sebastian, they descended into the yacht
which had brought them from St. Lucar.
Don Hyppolito lingered behind: no one was near Sebastian; he approached,
and hastily whispered, “Blanche is with her mother--fear not for them--I
will watch over their safety: for that purpose I remain in St. Lucar.”
Hyppolito hurried away, and joining his party, was conveyed to shore.
In whispers to his father, he excused himself from attending him to
Madrid, pleading the comparative insignificance of his youth, and the
indecorum of leaving his mother alone. The Duke, little dreaming of the
romantic scheme which his son was then revolving, made no hesitation of
according to his wish, and the Duchess was too much gratified with such
filial attention to receive it without pleasure.
Having left his parents at their own house, Hyppolito hastened to detail
the scene he had just witnessed to the expecting Blanche.
In his progress across one of the squares, he was stopped by a knot of
young lords, who knowing the visit that had been proposed, now stayed
him with various questions. Hyppolito’s answers were full of his usual
candour, and were mixed with so many passionate expressions and sympathy
with the wrongs of Sebastian, and so many invectives against the
inactive Portuguese, that he attracted and fixed the attention of a
person, who clothed as a mendicant, remained without being noticed upon
one spot close to the speakers.
After uttering a few unthinking jests, the young lords went away, and
Hyppolito was now proceeding alone, when the mendicant followed, and
drew nigh to him: Hyppolito threw him a piece of money unasked; the man
passed it with trepidation, and said in a low voice, “I am no beggar,
noble Guzman! but a friend of him you compassionate; one, that you see,
is willing to risk his life on any scheme that may serve Sebastian of
Portugal.”
Hyppolito turned joyfully round, and looking on the stranger, saw the
features of a brave and honest youth, under the squalid rags in which
he was enveloped. He made him a sign to follow at some distance, and
getting out of the streets as fast as possible, the two young men found
themselves in a lonely thicket, just beyond its precincts, “Now then,
say on,” cried Hyppolito, “tell me your name and purpose,--we both risk
much by this sudden confidence; but who would not risk all, save his
immortal soul, for the injured Sebastian.”
“I am Don Christopher of Crato,” replied the stranger, blushing and
sighing as he pronounced the name he mentioned, “my grandfather was
great uncle to Sebastian, I am therefore bound to his fortunes by the
ties of blood. Having returned into France after the base detention of
my dear sovereign at Florence, I obtained from the French King a solemn
promise of inviolable protection (a promise written by his own hand, and
which I now possess) for Sebastian and his Queen, should I ever be able
to effect their liberation. For this purpose the generous King has
given me a large sum of money, with which I hastened to Naples,
determined to attempt the rescue of Sebastian either by bribery or by
artifice; but I found him removed to St. Lucar: hither I have followed
him, and disguised as you see, am now watching an opportunity for the
performance of a duty.”
At the name of Don Christopher, (whom the late Emanuel de Castro had so
often extolled at Villa Rosolia,) Hyppolito dismissed his fears and
suspicions, and at once unfolded to him the design he had himself formed
during his visit to the galley.