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.

Such were the momentous details contained in the packet from Don Emanuel, which he had warily transmitted through a neutral vessel to Messina, and thence to Brazil: the perusal of them caused a conflict in the heart of Caspar. He would have exulted had he not seen the friend and master whom he idolized, a prey to extreme grief.

Sebastian was indeed suffering in idea, all the pangs of parting from an only and beloved child; and while he fancied the tears and cries of her yet dearer mother, his hardly-earned philosophy deserted him at once.

It was necessary that Caspar should now forget that he was his King, and think of him merely as a man struck and enfeebled by sorrow, he ventured to enter fully on the important inducements to the separation they dreaded; and explaining every motive more distinctly than De Castro could take time to do, he succeeded in recalling Sebastian to a sense of his daughter’s interest, and his people’s claims.

After a long discussion, the sad father exhorted Gaspar to a temporary silence on the subject of their discourse, and requesting to be left alone, shut himself into his apartment to ruminate on the arguments to which he had been listening.

END OF THE THIRD VOLUME. J. M‘Creery, Printer, Black-Horse-Court, Fleet-street, London.