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 frequently
repeated 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 knew not 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 admirable Braganza; 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 place at 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: it was 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 intended should 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 had secured 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 smiling
through 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 and gratified 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, the Spaniards 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 and Queen, 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 royal chair, 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.
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}