The Prime Minister

“Believe me, captain, I am grateful for the interest you take in my welfare,” answered Don Luis, “and will endeavour to profit by your warning and counsels, which are of double value, as I feel that I required them.”

“Be assured that I am not fond of giving advice to those who I know will disregard it,” answered the Captain; and, seeing that his friend was about to speak, he added, “remember, I will not exchange with you the current coin given for advice, when both are empty and valueless; so we will say no more on the subject.”

“As you wish, my friend,” answered Don Luis. “Then what think you of your prisoner, or rather guest, Senhor Mendez?”

“That he is rapidly recovering from his wounds,” said the Captain.

“Yes, he daily gains strength,” said Don Luis: “but I mean as to who he is.”

“That he is one who seeks to remain unknown,” responded Captain Pinto. “Do not ask me further respecting him; for I cannot satisfy you, though he has made me acquainted with his history. He will pass for a Portuguese born in the colonies, and I shall thus be able to afford him assistance while he remains in Lisbon; and as few even on board have seen his countenance, and as I shall land him as a wounded man, there is no danger of his being recognised.”

While this conversation was going forward, the ship was slowly running down the coast; and as we have ourselves sailed over the same ground, we are able accurately to describe it. On the low flat ground which stretches away to the north of the rock of Lisbon, they could clearly perceive with their glasses the domes and towers of the Escurial of Portugal, the immense palace and convent of Mafra, built by that pious debauchee, John the Fifth. This vast edifice is of a quadrangular form, showing a front towards the sea some seven hundred feet in length, with a lofty portico in the centre, which leads to the church. It seems, by its extent, rather calculated for a fortress, in which to quarter all the troops in the kingdom, than a refuge for humble monks, or a calm retirement for royalty. A suburb, as it were, of houses and cottages has sprung up around it.

They next passed under the serrated ridges of the rock of Lisbon towering towards the heavens, embosomed among which lies the beautiful and romantic vale of Cintra, rising, like an oasis in the wilderness, from the arid and scorched plains surrounding Lisbon. From the sea few of its beauties can be perceived, the only conspicuous object being the cork convent of Nossa Senhora da Penha, perched like an eyrie amid the most lofty cliffs, the first name being given to it from its being lined with cork to shield the monks from damp, as great part of it is hewn out of the solid rock. One small gap in the mountain alone allows the voyager a glimpse of the paradise within, filled with cork, orange, citron, olive, and numerous other trees and sweet-scented shrubs. Having doubled the cape, from beneath whose caverned rock the deep murmur of the sea was heard, they passed across the bay of Cascaes, with its low sterile cliffs, and a fresh sea breeze setting in, they entered the majestic Tagus by the northern passage, with a small island to the right entirely covered by a circular castle of white stone, built to protect the mouth of the river, called the Bugio fort. The scene was highly animating to those who had spent day after day without meeting, on the dreary expanse of waters, a friendly bark to cheer their sight, as they beheld numberless vessels, of all classes, sailing up the river with the fresh sea breeze, and boats of every description darting here and there over the sparkling waves. There was the lofty Indiaman, or richly-laden Brazilian ship, (for at that time Portugal monopolised the entire carrying trade to her colonies,) surrounded by a hundred boats which had come out to welcome relations and friends from their long voyage, or to inquire for those who remained behind, or might perhaps never return. Then there was the heavy-sailing English merchant brig, characteristic of her nation, possessing more bottom than speed, and proving to the world that the first maritime people could build the ugliest vessels, not surpassed in that respect by the tub-like, yellow-sided Dutchman, laden with cheeses in the shape of cannon balls. Among them were seen, in strong contrast, the graceful, high-pointed lateen sails of the Portuguese Rasca, used chiefly in the coasting trade; and the native schooner, or Hiate, with hulls not destitute of beauty, but rigged with masts raking at different angles, and their gaffs peaked at unequal heights; and also the curious Lisbon fishing-boat, shaped like a bean-pod, curving up at stem and stern, with a short rounded deck at each end, and a single high lateen sail. Then there were sloops, schooners, etc, etc, but all made way for the royal cruiser, as she proudly sailed up the stream, lowering their flags as she passed them in mark of respect. Passing close to the white tower of Belem and its gothic church at the westernmost part of Lisbon, they at length dropped their anchor opposite to that picturesquely-beautiful city, which rises on many hills from the shores of the wide-flowing Tagus, the white buildings glittering in the sun, crowned by the dark frowning castle, surrounded by suburbs intermixed with gardens filled with the richly-tinted orange-trees; but it was in those days very inferior in point of size and beauty to what it is now, and, alas! on entering it, its outward promise was found to be sadly deceptive; the streets were narrow, ill ventilated, and badly constructed, with a degree of dirt far surpassing that of any other European city; the extraordinary healthiness of the climate, and the heavy rains, aided by the canine scavengers which swarmed in it, and contributed to carry off the impurities, alone preventing it from being yearly visited by the plague, which the inhabitants took no other means to avoid. Amid this collection of dirt were, however, to be found numerous fine palaces, rich convents for both sexes, highly adorned churches of elegant architecture, and various other public buildings surpassed by few cities of the time. The river is here several miles in breadth; and on the opposite shore, which is composed of rugged cliffs, once stood old Lisbon,1 the ancient capital of Lusitania; while, looking up the stream, it has, from its wide extent, the appearance of a magnificent lake, which diminishes considerably the apparent height of its banks.

As it is not our intention to give a topographical description of Lisbon, we will return to the more interesting subject, we doubt not, of our narrative. No sooner were the sails furled, and the anchor had touched the ground, than, as the gallant bark rode securely on the smooth surface of the Tagus, she was surrounded by hundreds of boats, filled with eager and questioning passengers, and such shouts, cries, and vociferations, filled the air, that it was difficult to hear an order given or a reply made.

While Don Luis was waiting till the captain was prepared to accompany him on shore, and gazed admiringly on the beautiful panorama around him, his heart beat quick with the joyful anticipation of at length meeting her on whom, during his absence, all his thoughts had centred. He pictured to himself her delighted surprise at his unexpected return, and the rich blush which would suffuse her lovely cheeks, as, overcoming the natural bashfulness of love, forgetful of the formal etiquette of society, of everything, in her joy of seeing him, she would throw herself into his arms. Then he thought of the thousand questions she would ask of his adventures, and the answers he should make; of the animated glances of her bright eyes, as he described the storm and night-engagement with the rover, with the share he had taken in the strife; how she would tremble with agitation, as he recounted the dangers he had undergone, and how doubly dear he should be to her heart after all his escapes. Not once did his good friend Pinto’s warnings and forebodings occur to him; not once did he think of the history of Senhor Mendez. How, indeed, could any dark or dismal thoughts intrude, surrounded by a scene of such loveliness, with that pure blue sky, and that clear sparkling atmosphere! All appeared to him of rosy hue, nor did he remember how false and treacherous was the outward appearance of the very city at which he gazed – a fit emblem of the fair promises of the world, full of foulness and deceit.

His thoughts were quickly broken in upon by the captain summoning him to the boat, which conveyed them on shore; and once more with joy did he press his native soil, as, attended by Pedro, he hastened to his father’s house, while Captain Pinto repaired to the Admiralty, to report the arrival of his ship.

Volume One – Chapter Four

We must now quit the free, boundless, ever-varying ocean, on which we delight to dwell, with its exciting incidents of the chase, the tempest, and the fight, for the confined space of a crowded city.

The palace of the Marquis d’Alorna was situated near the centre of Lisbon, on the rise of a hill, at a short distance from the river; and although the approach to it was through what we should now consider narrow, dirty streets, it was an edifice of some consideration, constructed of fine hewn stone, with a handsome entrance, through which a carriage might drive to the foot of a broad flight of steps, leading to that part of the mansion inhabited by the family, the lower part being appropriated for stables, and for the use of the inferior order of domestics, and where also the family coaches stood in conspicuous array. But it is to the upper story of the building, where, in Portugal, are frequently situated the most agreeable rooms of the house, that we would introduce our readers. It was a large apartment, a broad balcony in front, with a heavy, highly-carved balustrade of stone-work, from which was seen a fine view of the Tagus, blue and sparkling in the bright sunshine, and covered with white dancing sails, wending their course in every direction. The interior decorations of the room were rich, but not according to the most approved taste of the present day. Over the windows hung curtains of yellow damask, which cast a glare anything but becoming to the complexions of the inmates, and the ceiling was decorated with a fresco painting of some allegorical subject, most difficult to determine. The walls were covered with tapestry, representing a scene in Arcadia, it might be presumed, from a number of fair ladies figuring in the landscape in the fanciful costume of shepherdesses, with crooks in their hands adorned with flowers and ribbons, who ought to have been tending several flocks of sheep scattered far and wide; but their attention was diverted from these pastoral duties by listening to the passionate addresses of sundry youths, in bag wigs and swords, who were kneeling at their feet in all the most approved attitudes of devotion. A surprising number of waterfalls, temples, bridges, and romantic cottages, fit abodes for love, peace, contentment, and little children, filled up the interesting picture. In a small alcove on one side was an altar, on which stood an image of the Virgin and Child; the mother dressed in robes of blue and gold stripes, trimmed with pink, and a crown of silver and precious stones on her head, the whole figure surrounded by bright wreaths of artificial flowers; but it appeared a pity, since so much expense had been lavished on her decoration, that the same pious hand had not afforded even the slightest garment to shelter from the inclemency of the weather the little smiling cherub in her arms. The floor was of highly polished chestnut, not covered by any carpet, except a narrow strip below a row of high-backed chairs, of dark carved mahogany, placed against the walls. Several doors opened from the room, affording a long vista beyond, of other apartments, to the opposite windows of the palace, through which might pass the refreshing breeze from the river.

But it is time that we should describe the occupants of the chamber; for there were several of the gentler sex seated in a circle near the open window, some on low chairs or stools, the others having placed themselves on the ground in the eastern fashion, with their work before them.

The lady who seemed of most consequence in the party was reclining with her back to the side of the window, so as to command a view of the world without, and, at the same time, to see and hear what was going forward in the room. She was young – very young; by her appearance scarcely counting eighteen summers of life, and beautiful as the pure sky of her native clime; but already on that high and pure brow had thought, care, or passion, cast a faint, scarce perceptible sign, which came and passed away like a thin fleeting cloud. The bright hue of health and spirits was on her oval cheeks, and there was a sparkling lustre in her full dark eye, which, at times, however, wanted, alas! that soft gentle expression so much more requisite to the eye of ebon hue than to any other: but who could quarrel with the faultless features of her exquisitely chiselled countenance? Her figure was scarcely of the average middle height, but it was beautifully formed, every limb rounded to perfection; indeed it was rather full than otherwise, relieved by her swan-like throat, and the fine fall of her shoulders.

She was sumptuously dressed in richly flowered silks; her hair, of raven hue, drawn from off her forehead, and slightly powdered, was arranged in many curls, and fastened at the summit with pins of gold. She had been occupied, or rather pretended to be occupied, in working with silk on canvass, the fashionable employment of ladies in those days; but the work appeared to be proceeding but slowly, as the small part only of a design was seen, and it was now thrown, with various bright coloured balls, at her feet. The rest of the party were rather more industriously employed in the like sort of occupation, though the gay peals of light laughter which rose from the circle, showed that they were not very earnest about it; their incentive to merriment appearing to proceed from a personage not the least remarkable of the group, seated opposite to the lovely being we have described. Her features were of jetty black, of that intense ugliness rarely seen in youth, at all events but in the negro race; and although she was scarcely more than three feet high, her head was as large as that of a full-grown person, with round shining eyes, a good-natured, contented smile ever playing round her full ruddy lips, which disclosed a full proportion of immense pearly teeth, the grotesqueness of her features increased, evidently by design, by a costly costume of every hue: her hair, too, according to the fashion, being dressed in a high peak, was decorated also with ribbons of the most glaring colours. The little lady did not, however, appear at all conscious of the absurdity of her appearance; but, on the contrary, seemed to consider herself habited in a most becoming costume, receiving all the compliments which were jokingly paid her, as her due. When she spoke, the tones of her voice were as deep as those of a full-grown person, and when she became excited in conversation, there was a degree of harshness about them far from agreeable.

“Well, my sweet mistress,” said this curious-looking being, rising as if about to take her leave, “I must tear myself away from your enchanting presence, to return to the high personages who sent me, with the joyful news of the prospect of your quick return to health; but, ere I go, I must acquit me of my mission, and deliver this holy relic, with which I was charged, as a sovereign remedy against all human ills.” Saying which, she produced a small silver casket, from a large bag which she carried in the shape of a reticule, adding, “Know that it contains part of the precious remains of the most holy Saint Anthony, being his true and veritable little finger, presented to her majesty by the pious father Malagrida, who certified the many miracles it had worked in the various parts of the world to which he had borne it. You will find therein that which will cure you of your malady in the space of a few hours, if you keep it in your own possession,” she whispered, with a significant expression, as she delivered the case into the hands of the young beauty.

“Express my gratitude to her majesty for her bounteous kindness in remembering me,” answered the young lady, “and say I have a firm and pious trust in the efficacy of her holy remedy. In truth, it is well able to cure me of all the malady with which I am afflicted,” she added, laughing. “But, remember, Donna Florinda, that is not to be a part of the message you are to deliver.”

“Oh no,” answered the jet-coloured little lady; “trust to my discretion – I thought as much when I brought the casket, which, however, I will leave, as you may require it; though those sparkling eyes, and the rich colour on those lovely cheeks, betoken little sign of disease.”

“My illness was one imposed on me by my honoured father, at the instigation of his lady wife, to prevent my attendance at Court,” answered the young lady; her eye flashing angrily as she spoke. “Thank Heaven! I shall soon be my own mistress, nor will I yield again to their unjust commands.”

“Spoken like a girl of spirit,” said the Dwarf. “I like those who will never submit to tyranny; and be assured that his majesty will much applaud your determination, for all the Court mourn the absence of its brightest ornament. But I must not stay chattering here, or it will be supposed I am lost, and then there will be a hue and cry all over Lisbon in search of me; for I am much too valuable a person not to be a prize to any who could carry me off.”

“You would indeed be a treasure, Donna Florinda, to the happy person who possessed you, but their majesties esteem you far too much to part with you willingly,” returned the lovely girl, laughing.

“Methinks they do, and I have no intention of quitting them. I know when I am well off. – Now, again, my sweetest friend, adieu.” Saying which, Donna Florinda sprang up, imprinting a kiss on each cheek of the beautiful girl, who received the salute, as a thing of course, and then curtseying with an air intended to be very dignified, she turned to quit the apartment.

“Run, maidens, run,” exclaimed the young lady. “Run and attend Donna Florinda to her chair. Haste all of you, and pay her proper respect.” The maids, accustomed to the imperious orders of their young mistress, threw down their work, and followed Donna Florinda, for so their majesties of Portugal had been pleased to call their black favourite; and no sooner was the room cleared, than with eager hands the young lady opened the casket which had been sent her. It contained, doubtless, the little finger of Saint Anthony, but it contained also a small fold of paper, which she hurriedly abstracted, placing the casket aside, as a thing she valued not.

Agitation was visible on her countenance, as with trembling fingers she tore open the note. “Enchanting, beautiful girl,” it ran, “too often have I gazed enraptured on those matchless charms to resist longer their enslaving power. Though the barriers of custom and bigotry intervene to keep us asunder, yet would I break through all obstacles to win one smile of acquiescence to my ardent wishes from those bright eyes! and ah! believe that this heart, which has never felt till now one pang of love, though surrounded by the fairest, the most lovely in the land, has at length been punished for its obduracy; nor can I experience one moment of peace till I know that this has been accepted by her for whom it is intended, and that she will deign to send some answer favourable to my hopes. From one who would, were it possible, lay a crown at the feet of the most captivating of her sex.” No signature was attached to the epistle; but, as the lady’s eyes glanced hurriedly over it, her breathing grew quick, a blush mantled on her neck and cheek, though remaining but a moment ere a pallor succeeded, as she placed it in her bosom, on hearing the return of her attendants along the corridor leading to her apartment. Her principal attendant gazed at her earnestly, with an expression of concern.

“Surely, Senhora, you are now really ill indeed; and I fear St. Anthony’s finger has been of slight benefit. Let me run and procure you some of the restorative medicine I am ordered to take.”

“No, no, there is no necessity for it,” answered the young lady; “I merely slightly pricked my finger as Donna Florinda left the room, and the pain was acute, and made me feel faint; but it has passed away and left no mark. I shall be well again directly.”

As she spoke her former colour returned to her cheeks, but the smile which had sat on her lips was not so easily recovered; and though she attempted to talk with animation, her gaiety was forced and unnatural. Before many minutes had passed, another visitor was announced as the Marchioness of Tavora, at which name the attendants stood up respectfully, the young lady advancing herself to the door of the apartment to receive her guest. The lady who now entered was of majestic deportment, with firmness and dignity in every movement, at the same time that there was much feminine beauty in her features; for, although they had much passed their prime, they yet retained a large portion of those charms for which she had once been celebrated, without any of the disfiguring marks of old age. She gazed with a look of affection, as she addressed the young lady, who conducted her respectfully to a chair, and placed herself on a lower seat at her feet.

“I have come, my sweet daughter, as an ambassadress from my son, the heir of his father’s wealth and titles, earnestly to press his suit,” began the Marchioness; “you know how fondly he loves you, and all the necessary preliminaries having been arranged between the Marquis of Tavora and your father, your consent is alone wanting to fix the day on which he may be made happy. Say, then, that you will not defer the day, and let me be the bearer of the joyful tidings to my boy.”

“I am highly flattered by the honour you do me, Senhora Marqueza,” answered the young lady, “and by the preference your son shows me; but I do not feel myself worthy of his love without giving mine in return, and I would rather not wed yet.”

“Do I hear aright?” exclaimed the Marqueza, with surprise, and a degree of anger in her tone. “Can you, whom I already look upon in the light of a daughter, dream of disobedience to your father’s commands, and refuse my son’s proffered alliance? Such a thing is impossible. Have you not constantly given me reason to suppose that you would throw no difficulty in the way, – then why this sudden and unaccountable change of opinion? But I know that these words do not express your feelings: they were uttered more from a freak of maiden bashfulness, than from any confirmed determination. To such folly, however, you must not yield. Think well again before you give your final answer; for of such as that you before uttered I cannot be the bearer.”

The young lady remained silent for some minutes; a pallid hue again overspread her features, and she gasped for breath, as if some intense feelings were passing through her bosom; but the Marchioness, occupied with her own thoughts, did not, apparently, observe her. At length, by a strenuous effort recovering her composure, she looked up. “If such is the will of my father, that I should wed, I will follow it,” she said; “my hand, when he shall claim it, is at your son’s command; and I must crave your pardon that I at first refused the proffered honour.”

“My sweet daughter, you have made me most happy,” exclaimed the Marchioness, folding her in an affectionate embrace. “My beloved son, on whom you know every sentiment of my heart is placed, will hasten to throw himself at your feet; but say, my fair child, when you will crown his joy, by bestowing that hand he prizes so much?”

“I would petition for a short delay,” returned the lovely girl; “let the day be in November next: he will not have long to wait; and it is but short time to prepare to quit a home where I have spent the few happy days of my life, and for the future, alas! oh, may Heaven protect me!” The last part of the sentence was uttered rather to herself than aloud, nor did the Marchioness attend to the words.

“I will not, at present, urge you to fix an earlier time, though I would have wished it sooner; but perhaps my son may have more influence,” said the Marqueza, smiling. “I must now go to relieve his mind of the anxiety which oppresses it, and before long, expect your loving bridegroom here.” Saying which, the Marchioness of Tavora arose, and, embracing the young lady, she quitted the apartment with the same stately dignity with which she had entered, attended, with the utmost respect, by the retinue of maidens who waited on their young mistress.