of joy: Sebastian turned on her a look expressive of his soul.
De Castro gave the promise desired of him, settled the cypher with which
they were to correspond on political subjects, and taking a gracious
leave of Gaspar, was about to depart, when Sebastian called him back.
“Stay awhile, Don Emanuel,” he said, “I had forgotten to give you a
passport to Sir Anthony Shirley. This ring, for which I exchanged one
bestowed on me by my Aziek, will recall me to him as the Knight of the
Cross; and through his testimony perhaps, your romance may obtain an
accredited hearing from the Queen of England. Tell the generous
Englishman how truly, how warmly I remember him; tell him that the
memory of his noble confidence at a time when everything conspired to
make suspicion almost a virtue, will never leave my heart!
“Shirley, who knew my past abhorrence of those pure doctrines I would
now die to defend, may doubt my present sincerity; but you, De Castro,
must clear me from the imputation of deserting the worship of my
fathers, through political motives.
“Fixed for an indefinite period in this land where every Portuguese
considers me as a strange and unhallowed, though perhaps, benevolent
person, policy would have bidden me shew an excessive zeal for the faith
of Rome: instead of that, I have risked my personal safety, and have
been grievously persecuted and traversed by those severe ecclesiastics
whom your authority was not sufficient to silence.
“As it is, I expect that this alteration in my religious opinions, so
far from assisting me to my throne, will prove a bar to my progress: my
people may apprehend persecution from me.--Did they but read my heart!”
The King having paused, De Castro ventured to speak. “My voice, Sire!
shall not slumber, believe me; happily the Portuguese have been used to
respect my voice; and since they hear the same temperate profession of
our national religion, from the man who has lived above seven years in
precious friendship with his sovereign, they will learn to understand
that what he _believes_ himself, he wishes not to _force_ on
others--adieu, my honoured liege! when we meet again”--
Don Emanuel could not proceed further: he threw himself once more at the
feet of his King, who bending to raise and embrace him, repeated in a
low voice, “when we meet again! De Castro, what a volume for thought, is
there in those few words!”
Sebastian still held Don Emanuel, but he ceased to see him: his mind
fell back on itself, and plunged in a deep reverie, he remained many
minutes standing in the same fixed attitude, when the soft touch of Kara
Aziek recalled him to recollection.
Starting at the gentle pressure of that dear hand, he recovered himself
with a pensive smile, and returned the parting benediction of De Castro.
Don Emanuel’s composed features now for the first time assumed an
appearance of great emotion; his face was whiter than death, and his
words inarticulate: he looked as if suddenly overcome with a painful
presentiment.
In truth, Sebastian’s expression had excited in him some apprehension
for the fate of his purposed embassy, and the possibility of failure
pierced him to the heart: he looked at his King, and the idea that they
were never to meet again, crossed him like a horrid phantom. Again he
kissed his hands, and hurrying out of the apartments, departed for ever
from Cachoeira.
CHAP. X.
The departure of Don Emanuel De Castro might have produced an alarming
change in the situation of Sebastian, had the Spanish viceroy been a man
of rigid principles; fortunately he was otherwise.
Indifferent to matters of conscience, and wholly devoted to pleasure, he
listened at first without emotion to the representations of the Monks,
(who now hastened to influence him against their heretical countryman;)
but when they added their belief that the Portuguese settler must have
used witchcraft to humanize the Guaymures, his inattention ceased, and
he questioned them further.
De Cunha was not a character easily impressed by superstition; and
laughing at the grave assertion of the Monks, he resolved to protect the
man they persecuted. If a private individual chose to waste his fortune
and his time upon the cultivation of a savage race, why should De Cunha
interfere, since his government would be rendered less troublesome by
their continuance in peace? why should he demolish the village of
Cachoeira and drive the Guaymures back to their dens and their
barbarism, solely to oblige a set of persons whom he denominated _moral
Locusts_? While De Cunha continued to live in this world as if there
were no other, while he worshipped only distinctions and delights, what
cared he if others chose to venerate Gods, saints, or devils?
This criminal apathy to the noblest sentiment of man, was here rendered
an instrument of good, to a being of a far different stamp: Sebastian
was permitted to pursue his own plans, and having had the discretion to
send a sumptuous present to the viceroy, his gift was accepted in lieu
of personal appearance, and from that hour his existence was scarcely
remembered at St. Salvador.
Domestic happiness still spread its mild sunshine over his retired
abode: alternate occupation and rest afforded him just time to feel that
he was useful, and that he was blest. If anxious thoughts intruded, he
strove to moderate, though not wholly to stifle them.
The expanding mind of Blanche now called for increased attention: intent
on nourishing and developing her precious qualities, both parents would
have ceased to recollect that she was born to inherit a crown, had not
the conversation of Gaspar, and the letters of Don Emanuel, kept that
recollection alive.
So remote from Europe, the communications they received from thence,
were necessarily at very distant intervals; but these were always
interesting, and calculated to animate hope.
De Castro had been recalled solely through an intrigue of De Cunha’s
family, who impoverished by their relations’ prodigality, had exerted
themselves to procure for him the lucrative situation of viceroy over
the new world: being supported by Philip’s mistress they had ultimately
succeeded.
The purity and discretion of De Castro’s government placed him beyond
the reach of censure: his retired manners excited no envy; he had not a
single enemy at the court of Castille, and therefore he found no
difficulty in gaining permission from Philip to seek the
re-establishment of his health by travel into other countries.
This leave obtained, he hastened to turn it to use: he visited his
sister the duchess of Medina Sidonia, and without unvieling to them the
motive of his enquiries, cautiously learnt from her and her husband the
real state of Philip’s affairs. These were not so flourishing as rival
potentates imagined.
Discontent at his long and wasteful, and unjust war with the
Netherlands, began to pervade his own dominions: the cruelties of the
Duke of Alva, were truly considered to have their origin in his
commands; and now from fearing their sovereign, his people began to hate
him.
The Portuguese were unanimous in abhorring a tyrant whom some of them
had assisted in seating on their throne; but repentance availed not;
they were shorn of their strength, and like the self-ruined Sampson,
were destined to behold their own degradation, with the poignant
conviction of owing it to their own imbecility.
De Castro staid not longer in Portugal than was necessary to revive
amongst some of the most spirited, a hope that Don Sebastian yet
existed. In secret, and with the utmost caution, he confided to a chosen
few, his belief of their master’s safety; but further than this, he
deemed it impolitic to proceed: the first step was to rouse them from
despair, the next should be to point out an animating ground for
expectation.
Having made the tour of Portugal, and singled out such persons as he
thought fitted for his purpose, and faithful to their country, he passed
into Italy, where he wearied out suspicion, by travelling from place to
place, as if solely led by curiosity, or in search of health.
Nothing was more common than noblemen travelling incognito,
consequently, no one expressed surprize when they heard that Don Emanuel
De Castro made his tour under a feigned name, and with a small suite.
Near a fishing town on the coast between Italy and France, he fixed
himself during several months: unknown and unobserved he dispatched from
this place a couple of trusty friends, to whom alone he had confided the
absolute existence of Don Sebastian.
Texere, an enlightened and liberal priest of the Romish church, went for
England; while Don Juan De Castro (a cousin of Emanuel’s) procured
admission into France, and penetrated even to the presence of Henry
himself.
Don Juan’s mission was to gain over the French King, and to convince him
of the policy of entering into a confederacy with England and Holland,
for the restoration of a monarch whom now the same faith would bind
closely to their future interests: father Texere was to insinuate
himself into the favour of those who governed the English Queen, and by
magnificent promises to them, insure her efficient assistance: another
emissary was sent into Holland, where Prince Maurice swayed at will the
hearts of his countrymen.
The progress of these agents was slow and wavering. In England the Earl
of Leicester (who then guided the councils,) acted with cold and narrow
policy: this policy looked not beyond its own immediate interests,
treating as visionary all solicitude for the rights of a sovereign no
longer able to throw a weight in the scale of Europe.
He considered, and calculated, and scrutinized so much, that he suffered
the time for action to escape; and secretly discrediting the report of
Texere concerning the new opinions, and altered character of Don
Sebastian, he habituated himself only to think of Don Sebastian’s
restoration as an act which would reseat a madman.
Sir Anthony Shirley was yet in Persia: no other courtier had equal
influence with Leicester, and forced to bear with all his caprices,
Texere wore away month after month in continual negociation, which still
produced nothing decisive, and which not even the urgent letters of De
Castro could bring to a point.
Don Juan was better received, though with less prospect of benefit, by
the amiable King of Navarre. Henry heard with extreme sensibility the
story of his royal kinsman; he even shed tears: but what availed his
sympathy or his zeal? he was himself struggling against one half of his
subjects, whose religious animosities threatened him with destruction;
and alternately conquering or conquered, without treasures, almost
without authority, it rather became him to seek the protection of others
than to stand forth the champion of Don Sebastian.
All that Juan could obtain or reasonably ask, was the promise of
assistance, whenever France should have acknowledged her lawful King.
In the Netherlands Prince Maurice also was hotly contending against the
arms of the Duke of Alva:--unless encouraged by France and England, and
aided by the insurrection of Portugal, he feared to animate the fury of
his invaders by a rash declaration in favor of the Protestant Prince,
and therefore frankly confessed, that the only service in his power was
that of continuing to employ the stoutest troops of Spain.
These negociations proceeded not with the rapidity of ordinary affairs:
sometimes they ebbed, sometimes they flowed; the events of one day would
accelerate their motion, the changes of another, suspend them
altogether.
Time passed, and so long was the period, that the inhabitants of
Cachoeira nearly abandoned expectation: they heard from De Castro of his
attempts, his risks, his mortifications, his suddenly raised, and as
suddenly blasted hopes, his busy goings hither and thither, his narrow
escapes of discovery, and all the long et ceteras of an important and
concealed mission.
They heard this at first with lively emotions that corresponded only too
faithfully with his own: but by degrees anxiety became exhausted,
frequent disappointment broke the spring of hope, and each in secret
resigned themselves to a life of retirement in Brazil.
Bitter were the tears shed by Gaspar whenever he pondered over such a
prospect: but he dared not interrupt by his complaints that serious calm
which Sebastian had succeeded in diffusing over his feelings: he wept
alone, or in company with the young Blanche, who compassionated his
sadness, though she knew not the cause.
Ships from Europe came to St. Salvador twice a year: their arrival
uniformly produced great agitation in Sebastian and Kara Aziek: the
former anticipated the news they might bring, with ungoverned eagerness,
the other dreaded to learn them, lest they should call her husband into
danger. But on each, the same cause produced the same effect: it gave
them a habit of trouble and anticipation; it destroyed that delightful
serenity, that tranquillity of the soul, which reflects in all their
beauty the various images of surrounding happiness: they no longer
moved through the paradise they had created, with looks that said, “here
is our world;” care and disquiet sat on their brows, and plunged in
frequent reveries, they gave evident proof of having deeper interest far
away.
It was from observing this change in Kara Aziek, that Sebastian first
learnt to note the alteration in himself: that instant he decided on his
course.
He ceased to talk of Portugal and De Castro, he called on his family to
follow his example, and courageously striving to restore his mind to
that self-commanding state from which he had suffered it to be driven,
he resumed his former occupations with his former energy.
Again smiles and pleasures appeared at Cachoeira; again the beautiful
Blanche led the gay dance under her favorite trees; again she decorated
with flowers on each returning day of her birth, the loving Barémel, now
grown old and indolent. Meanwhile, the hopes of her parents, though
chastised, were not annihilated; the letters of De Castro still informed
them that his zeal was untired, and that, although adverse political
events might delay their wishes, he yet believed that all would prosper
at last.
Even Gaspar began to reconcile himself to these languid expectations,
when he was one day summoned to the presence of his friend and King.
Sebastian was standing alone with an opened letter in his hand; the
contents of which had evidently taken the colour from his cheek: never
before had Gaspar seen him so pale.
He raised his eyes on the entrance of the latter, and said in a low
voice, “Gaspar, you must support me--my heart will not have strength of
itself--such a sacrifice is demanded! all-gracious God! must I
acquiesce?”
Sebastian stood with his clasped hands raised to his head, though that
was bent down with the air of one whom the prospect of some impending
misfortune has completely subdued.
“What means my liege?” exclaimed Gaspar, “what sacrifice is demanded?”
“My child!--my child Gaspar!” interrupted Sebastian, fixing a wild look
on him, then instantly turning away: Gaspar spoke not; bewildered by the
many conjectures to which these few words gave rise, he stood silent.
Meanwhile Sebastian recovered.
“They would have my daughter in their hands;” he resumed.
“Of whom do you speak sire?”
“Of the English:” replied the King, “ere they will attempt aught for
Portugal, they must have a hostage in their possession, a gaurantee of
my good faith: De Castro in his zeal, had named my daughter, and it is
her they demand. O Gaspar, how shall I tear her from her doting mother?”
Relieved by this imperfect explanation, Gaspar found voice to inquire
more particularly. Sebastian shewed him the letter from Don Emanuel;
its contents were unusually important.
Disgusted with the timidity of Henry IV. and alarmed by his secession
from the Protestant interest, England began to cast an anxious eye on
every Prince of her own complexion in religion and politics: it was now
therefore that the agents of Sebastian obtained from her a favourable
hearing.
Leicester was dead, and his place in the heart of Elizabeth, was filled
by the young Earl of Essex, then the idol of the court, the camp, and
the city: his generous soul was touched by the affecting narrative of
father Texere.
Yet new in cabinets, and too benevolent for a system of mere policy, he
embraced the cause of a suffering King, with all the ardour of youth: he
led Texere to the Queen; and refusing any other discussion of so
delicate and sacred a subject, called on her to determine at once, for
justice and Don Sebastian.
Elizabeth was not so much the lover as to yield implicitly to this
importunity; she was the wily and the wary Elizabeth still: and it was
not till she had canvassed and balanced all the political advantages and
disadvantages of such a step, that she expressed her willingness to join
in the attempt of reinstating her royal supplicant on his throne.
Caution directed her discourse: she represented the necessity of
acquiring the support of other protestant Princes, whom she undertook to
sound through her agents at their courts; and she insisted on seeing Don
Emanuel De Castro himself, from whose lips alone she would accept those
promises she determined to exact on the part of his King.
Don Emanuel made no hesitation of immediately crossing to England: he
left his residence in Italy, began to travel, and suddenly affecting to
be sent for by a sick relation, who commanded one of the Portuguese
forts in Africa, he dismissed his household, and attended only by one
trusty domestic, passed in disguise from a neutral port to that of
London.
His reception at the British court was as flattering as his wishes:
satisfied with her policy, and warmed by Essex into some interest for
the fate of a monarch whose impetuous yet amiable character so nearly
resembled his own, Elizabeth met De Castro with an air of perfect
sincerity. The downfal of Philip rather more than the restoration of
Sebastian, was in her thoughts, but equity and religion alone were on
her tongue.
Having questioned De Castro upon the situation of his royal master, she
discovered that he was a husband and a father; though in what quarter of
the globe he lay concealed, not even her subtle art could penetrate.
This one reserve Don Emanuel deemed it a duty for him to insist on
preserving.
Pleased with the information thus obtained, as it afforded her the means
of security against ingratitude, she peremptorily told De Castro, that
unless the Princess of Portugal were put into her hands, she would not
draw a sword in her father’s cause.
At first, Don Emanuel was shocked; and conscious of the anguish such a
requisition would inflict upon Kara Aziek, ventured to propose himself
and his cousin as hostages for the fulfilment of any treaty she might
conclude with Don Sebastian.
Elizabeth was inflexible: and Essex, whose quick imagination had already
transported him from the projection of their enterprise to its happy
completion, and who saw therefore, but a span of time between the two
periods, joined his persuasions; representing the candour and dignity
of such a proceeding; assuring Don Emanuel that the moment in which he
welcomed Blanche to an English shore, should see him bind himself to be
her knight, her friend, and her protector.
Don Emanuel required some days to consider of his proposition: the
consideration cost him much disquiet. To separate Blanche from parents
to whom she was everything, seemed an act of absolute barbarity; yet to
lose the only rational and substantial prospect of regaining her rights,
by a want of firmness to endure unavoidable privations, appeared equally
criminal. It is true, Elizabeth had proposed the pleasing expedient of
leaving the pretty hostage still in her parents’ hands: but then those
parents must come with her to England, and accept an asylum there.
De Castro’s blood ran cold, when the dismal fate of Mary Stuart crossed
his memory: she too, had come for succour and for comfort; she too, had
been invited, caressed, and outwardly commiserated; but she had
languished out her youth in a prison, and terminated her sorrows on a
scaffold.
It was evident to him, from the looks and language of Essex, that his
thoughts had been similar, at this part of their discourse; and De
Castro therefore decided, that if policy enjoined Elizabeth to secure a
hostage for the fidelity of Sebastian, the same prudence required him to
preserve the father of Blanche, in order that his existence might act as
a check upon Elizabeth’s selfish views.
These reflections determined him; and he was on the point of hastening
to inform her majesty that he would signify her desire to his royal
master, when he heard that Sir Anthony Shirley was returned from Persia.
Taking this event as a favorable omen, the zealous De Castro lost not a
moment in procuring admission to him.
The ring confided to him at Cachoeira, was his passport: Shirley saw it
again, with an emotion of joy, honourable to his character.
“Then I hear of him at last!” he exclaimed, “where is he? what fortunes
have befallen him since we parted at the court of Schah Abbas?--how many
times have thoughts of him kept these eyes from sleep!”
“If I am to answer any, or all of these questions,” replied Don Emanuel,
with his usual stately yet sweet seriousness, “you must first assure me
Sir Anthony that the fortunes of my noble friend are sufficiently
interesting to you, to make you chearfully assist in repairing them?--at
this moment he claims, and I demand for him, the support of every loyal
heart.”
“He may command mine to the gates of death,” exclaimed Shirley: Don
Emanuel resumed.
“In those sleepless nights you speak of, did your thoughts never
conjecture who the Knight of the Cross might be?--did your thoughts
never start at your own imagination, deeming that suspicion romantic
which this period will shew to have been correct?--Surely Sir Anthony,
your eyes, accustomed to see the brightness of majesty--”
Shirley interrupted him: “Almighty God! then it is the King of Portugal
of whom we talk.”
By an instantaneous impulse Don Emanuel opened his arms without
speaking, for he was deeply affected, and Sir Anthony, impelled by the
same feeling, exchanged an embrace with him, which plighted their faith
to each other in the same cause. After this, De Castro opened himself
without reserve to the confidence inspired by Shirley.
Astonishment, pity, and admiration, kept the latter suspended during the
course of this recital: never in his life had he been so moved; and when
he heard that one faith, as one love, united the two hearts he prized so
much, some tears trickled down his cheek.
Shirley’s evidence respecting the perilous situation of Persia, tended
to heighten Queen Elizabeth’s respect for the character of Sebastian,
and by his advice De Castro no longer delayed acquainting her with his
intention of dispatching a pressing letter to Brazil, which he doubted
not would produce the effect they wished.
In this letter De Castro had suggested every thing necessary for the
safe conduct of Blanche to Europe: he advised placing her under the
protection of Gaspar, whose love for her was almost paternal; with him
she might proceed to Sicily, where the Duchess of Medina Sidonia had
just gone to take possession of an estate left her by an Italian
relation.
This favourite sister of De Castro’s, already warm in their cause, would
joy to receive the legitimate heiress of her native country, and Don
Emanuel engaged to be at Messina, as her escort into England.
Cautious himself, De Castro did not chuse that his young charge should
make direct for any British port; since it was impossible to foresee
what changes might have taken place in the period that must elapse
between the writing of the present letter, and the arrival of Blanche.