JENNINGS'S
LANDSCAPE ANNUAL,
For 1839.

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S2 CHEAPSIDE.

THE

TOURIST IN PORTUGAL,
By W. H. HARRISON,
Author of (( Tales of a Physician" %c. 3-c.
ILLUSTRATED FROM PAINTINGS
I!Y
JAMES HOLLAND.

Chance can do nothing. There is no turn of earth, —
No, not the blowing of the summer wind,
Or the unstable sailing of a cloud, —
Much more the destiny of mighty states, —
But hath a will that orders it. Croly.

LONDON:
ROBERT JENNINGS, 62, CHEAPSIDE.

NEW YORK : D. APPLETON.

MDCCCXXXIX.

PREFACE.

The last Series of the Landscape Annual having
been devoted to Spain, the transition to Portugal is
too natural to require a remark, in the way of expla
nation, on the subject selected for the present volume.
That this selection will be justified by the approval of
the Public is confidently anticipated; since Portugal,
independently of our long political and commercial
connexion with that country, must ever be an object
of interest to Englishmen, as having been the field in
which our warriors have gathered unfading laurels, in
the happily combined characters of conquerors and
liberators. The engravings, as in the instances of the preceding
volumes, being from paintings taken on the spot ex
pressly for the work, and having been executed with

VI PREFACE.
the same disregard to labour and cost, it is hoped that
the reputation of the Landscape Annual, as a pro
duction of Art, will be fully sustained in the present
number. The literary portion of the volume is designed to
illustrate the History, Antiquities, Letters, Super
stitions, and Manners of Portugal, from materials
collected during a recent visit to that country, as well
as from the most authentic records, both ancient and
modern. A few Legends, based on facts, have been inter
spersed throughout the volume ; but as the Author
does not pledge himself for the accuracy of the details,
he has distinguished those portions of the work from
the authentic matter, hy heading them in the old Eng
lish character. Thus, it is hoped, that while offering
attractions to the lovers of light literature, the volume
will possess somewhat of the permanent value of a
standard work.
The obligations of the Author to other writers will
be found to be acknowledged wherever it has been
thought advantageous to quote them ; but among the
sources from which he has derived much curious
information, he desires to particularize a manuscript
Journal of the late James Cavenagh Murphy ; for his

PREFACE. vii
access to which he is indebted to the friendship of
Mr. Crofton Croker.
In conclusion, the Author ventures to express a
hope that the public will extend to his present effort
that indulgence, which, as an Author and an Editor,
he has, for so many years, experienced at their
hands.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.
MEMORIALS OF THE KINGS OF PORTUGAL. PAGE
Earl}' History of Portugal — Memorials of the Kings of
Portugal, from the reign of Alfonso I., son of Henry
Earl of Portugal, to the close of the eighteenth Century. I
CHAPTER II.
OPORTO.
Arrival at Oporto — The Bar — Navigation ofthe Douro —
Vineyards — City of Oporto — Public Buildings — British
Factory — Serra Convent — Passage ofthe Douro — San
guinary Conflict — Battle and Storming of Oporto — Re
ligious Establishments — Tower of the Clergy — Cordo-
aria Market — Villa Nova — Destruction of Wine-stores. 45
CHAPTER III.
OPORTO.
Manners and Customs — Labouring Classes — Anecdotes of
Servants — Funerals — Marriages — Anecdote of a French
Bridegroom — Baptism — Military Burial — Court-mar
tial on a Dog — Portuguese Ladies — Ancient Chivalry of
Oporto — Anecdotes of the Wars with the Moors — The

X CONTENTS. PAGE
Freixo— Story of a Fisherman— Emigrants— The Mer
chant's Tale— Villa do Conde— Preparations for De
parture  65
CHAPTER IV.
COIMBRA.
Departure from Oporto— Albergaria — Sardao — Coimbra —
Its University — Prior of St. Bento — Bridge — Santa
Clara — Santa Cruz — Marvellous Fountain — Sieges of
Coimbra, by Ferdinand of Navarre ; by the Moors ; by
Alfonso — Loyalty of the Governor, Martin de Freitas —
Battle of Busaco — Anecdote of a Portuguese Peasant-
girl — Curiosities of Portuguese Literature — Memoir of
Murphy  112
CHAPTER V.
POMBAL.
Condeixa — Pombal — The Marquis of Pombal and his
Times — Earthquake of 1755 — Conspiracy and dreadful
Doom of the Conspirators — The Jesuits — State ofthe
Portuguese Army — Riot at Oporto — Military Services
of St. Antony — Romantic Incident  144
CHAPTER VI.
LEIRIA.
Leiria— The Cathedral — Fair — Castle of Leiria — A Fa
mily Picture — Don Miguel's Chair — The Maid of
Leiria — Departure — Interview with Saldanha  171
CHAPTER VII.
BATALHA.
Our Lodgings— Visit to the Monastery— Battle of Alju-
barrota— Royal Vow— Mausoleum of the Founder—

CONTENTS. \i
PAGE
Chapter-house — Mausoleum of King Emanuel — Anec
dotes of the Battle of Aljubarrota — A Night Scene. ... 197
CHAPTER VIII.
BATALHA.
Habits of the Monks — Grotesque Pilgrim — The Dead
Stork — Present State of the Monastery — A Legend of
Ratal ha — Musical Bore— Musicians of Portugal — De
parture  231
CHAPTER IX.
PORTO DE MOZ.
Arrival at Porto de Moz — The Festival — Pious Auc
tion — The Stag-daemon — Life for Life — The Poetry of
Washing — Conclusion  2C1

LIST OF I'LATES,

ENGRAVED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF AIR. IENNINGS.

OPORTO . . . .
OPORTO FROM ST. JOHN'S
CHURCH OF SAN FRANCISCO
TOWER OF THE CLERGY
^•-SERRA CONVENT
BAR OF THE DOURO .
THE SEMINARY FROM THE FREIXO
'VILLA NOVA
COIMBRA .
THE OLD CATHEDRAL, COIMBRA
RUA NOVA DOS INGLEZES, [NEW STREET OF
LEIRIA
STREET OF MISERICORD1A, LEIRIA
BATALHA
n monument of don john, batalha
batalha, east end
Mausoleum of don emanuel, batalha
porto de moz

6
. 35
. 45
. 59
. 65 32
Frontispiece. 95
. 96
. 116
. 143
THE ENGLISH] 158
171
. 190
206231 246
. 256
. Vignette. 262

THE
TOURIST IN PORTUGAL.

CHAPTER I.
MEMORIALS OF THE KINGS OF PORTUGAL.
Early History of Portugal — Memorials of the Kings of Portugal,
from the reign of Alfonso I., son of Henry Earl of Portugal, to
the close of the eighteenth century.
It has been considered that, to the Series of the
Landscape Annual proposed to be devoted to Por
tugal, a few memorials of its monarchs would be an
appropriate and, it is hoped, an interesting introduc
tion. The materials of which the author has availed
himself for the purpose, are chiefly gleaned from the
History of Portugal, by Emanuel de Faria y Sousa,
which, although abounding in the marvellous, for
" truth is stranger than fiction," would appear to have
been the text-book of some of the most distinguished
writers on Portuguese history.
It will be inferred from the title prefixed to this
chapter, that it is not the author's design to give a
history of Portugal, but rather an anecdotieal memoir
of her kings.

2 EARLY HISTORY OF PORTUGAL.
These memorials commence with the period when
Portugal ceased to be a province of Spain, and are
continued to the close of the eighteenth century;
beyond which, the modem history of Europe being
so intimately mixed up with the politics of the day,
the author has not thought it desirable to venture.
The history of every nation, particularly in its
more barbarous ages, is sufficiently stained by crime;
but Portugal is pre-eminent for the atrocities perpe
trated by its rulers. It was once quaintly but justly
remarked to the author, by a gentleman to whose
genius the literature of our country is eminently in
debted, that from the history of Portugal might be
gathered a nosegay of horrors, worthy of being pre
sented by Proserpine to her grim husband on their
wedding-day. As regards the pleasure which the
record of such instances of depravity is calculated to
afford, to either the writer or the reader, it might be
well that they were suffered to lapse into oblivion.
They however serve to teach the wholesome, though
melancholy lesson, that there is no depth of moral
degradation to which the human heart, abandoned to
its own evil impulses, will not descend; while the
Englishman, in particular, will find in the crime, folly,
and misrule so conspicuous in the annals of Portugal,
ample cause for self-gratulation that he lives under a
constitution which protects him from despotism on
the one hand, and democracy on the other. A brief
sketch of the early history of Portugal will serve to
introduce our memorials.
The Portuguese trace their history back to a very

GATHELUS. — HAMILCAR. 3
early date, alleging that their country was originally
peopled by Tubal, who founded the city of Setubal.
The name of Lusitania, which was given to the tract
of country between the Douro and the Guadiana, owes
its origin to Lucius, who reigned about fifteen hundred
years before Christ. Indeed, with regard to the de
rivation of the names of places, if the historians of
Portugal have not truth on their side, they have cer
tainly the credit of no ordinary ingenuity. Lisbon,
for instance, they trace to Ulysses, who gave it the
designation of Ulyssippo, afterwards corrupted to Lis-
boa. If these chronicles are to be relied upon,
Portugal has had the honour of being visited by many
of the heroes of antiquity, both sacred and profane.
Thus we find mention made of Osiris the Egyptian,
Hercules the Thehan, Atlas, Bacchus the son of Se-
mele, Cacus, who is described as a " bold fellow," and
" Nebuchadonozer ; " the last of whom, failing in his
attempt to conquer Lusitania, abandoned the country,
leaving behind him a number of Israelites : hence the
first settlement of the Jews in Portugal.
Gathelus and his family are said to have arrived
from Egypt in the city of Oporto, three hundred and
eighteen years before the Christian era. He had two
sons, one of whom, named Hiberus, sailed from Oporto
and landed in Ireland, which, it is maintained, was
hence called Hibernia.
The Carthaginians, under Hamilcar, were the next in
vaders ; and it is asserted that Hannibal, the son of
Hamilcar by a Lusitanian woman, acquired the rudi
ments of war in the expedition thus made by his father.
b 2

1 VIRIATUS.  R0DERIC  COUNT HENRY.
The Carthaginians, after a sovereignty of three
hundred years, in turn gave place to the victorious
armies of Rome ; who, however, were so gallantly op
posed by the Lusitanians under Viriatus, and his
successor Sertorius, that it was not until after the
death of the latter, in the reign of Augustus Csesar,
that the country became a Roman province.
The Romans were driven out by the Alans and the
Suevians ; and after them, in the year of the Redemp
tion 585, came the Goths. In the year 714, Roderic,
" Ultimus Rex Gothorum," after a gallant resistance
against an army of Moors, whose numbers doubled
his own, was vanquished. The Moors, having thus
become masters of Spain, pushed their conquests
into Lusitania.
The expulsion of the Moors from Spain was first
attempted by Pelagius, cousin-german of the unfor
tunate Roderic, and he finally succeeded in founding
the kingdom of Leon. The Castilians, encouraged by
his example, resolutely opposed the infidel intruders,
and in the reign of Alfonso VI., King of Castile and
Leon, recovered a great portion of Portugal from
the Moors.
Count Henry, the grandson of Robert Duke of Bur
gundy, having married Teresa, a natural daughter of
Alfonso, was by him made Earl or Count of Portugal.
On the death of Count Henry, his son succeeded to
the territories possessed by his father, and was ulti
mately proclaimed sovereign; and thus Portugal be
came an independent kingdom.
The contest which ensued between the Castilians

ALFONSO I. 5
and Portuguese, on the one part to regain the kingdom
and the other to defend it, gave rise to a bitter feeling
of animosity between the two countries. Of the Por
tuguese, the Spaniards have, to this day, a common
proverb : Pocos y locos, " Few and fools."
Alfonso I.
Alfonso, the first king of Portugal, surnamed the
Conqueror, and the only son of Henry Earl of Por
tugal, was born at Guimaraens, either in July or
August, 1094.* He is said to have come into the
world with his legs united from the knees downward,
and to have been relieved by nothing short of a mira
cle from the affliction. His governor, Egas Muniz,
having devoutly supplicated Heaven in behalf of his
pupil, the Virgin Mary appeared to him, and bade him
place the child on the altar of an old ruined church at
Carquere ; which the obedient Muniz having done,
from time to time for the space of five years, the reco
very was complete.
He followed the earl to the wars at the early age
of fourteen, and though he shortly afterwards, by the
death of his father, succeeded to the government, he
confided it to his mother. In 1125, thinking that he
had shown sufficient valour in the field to entitle him
to his spurs, he conferred the honour of knighthood
upon himself. In 1128, his mother, having married
again, disputed the sovereignty with him ; and although
aided by Alfonso VII., King of Castile and Leon, she
was finally overthrown, and was put in irons by her
* Some authors assert that he was born in 1109.

6 ALFONSO I.
dutiful son, an indignity at which she was so exaspe
rated, that, it is said, she prayed to Heaven that his
legs might be broken, — a disaster which subsequently
happened to him at the siege of Badajos.
He was eminently successful in his wars with the
Moors, particularly against Ismael, or Ismar, an infidel
who was sovereign of all the country beyond the Tagus.
Alfonso defeated this prince most signally at the battle
of Ourique, although the forces of the Moors exceeded
those of the Christians in the proportion of ten to one.
It was on the eve of this battle that a mock miracle
was got up, and Alfonso was proclaimed king, a title
which, although the miracle rests solely upon his own
authority, he affected some reluctance to accept, but
accepted it nevertheless.
Ismael, enraged at his defeat, attacked and took
Leiria; and having put the defenders to the sword,
shut himself up in it, but was finally driven out by
Alfonso, who cleared the whole territory of the Moors.
Alfonso VII. of Castile, thinking this a favourable
time to avenge his former defeat, entered Portugal by
way of Galicia, and gave battle to the Portuguese
on the very spot on which he had been formerly over
thrown, and was again signally beaten.
In 1141 we find him, in conjunction with a French
fleet of seventy sail, which had arrived in the harbour
of Oporto,* foiled in an attempt to rescue Lisbon from
the hands of the Moors. He was, however, more suc-
* The annexed is a view of Oporto, as it now appears, from the
Douro ; the boat in the foreground is of the description which is
used to convey wine down the river.

ALFONSO I. 7
cessful in his exploit against the city of Santarem,
which he took in an hour. He subsequently obtained
the assistance of a fleet composed of English, — under
the command of William Longsword, — French and
Flemings, which had taken refuge in the Tagus dur
ing a storm. Thus supported, Alfonso again attacked
Lisbon, which he carried after a five months' siege, and
entered the city in triumph. An heroic instance of
self-devotion during this siege is related of one Martin
Moniz. Having succeeded in entering a gate of the
city, he encountered so much opposition that, finding
he should be driven back, he threw himself down in
the gateway so that the gate could not be closed, and
his followers, making their way over his dead body,
effected an entrance.
Although Alfonso's successes against the Moors
had rendered him a terror to those infidels, he was
not so fortunate in his encounter with his son-in-law,
Ferdinand II. , King of Leon, who completely over
threw him ; but appears to have used his victory with
moderation, and to have left Alfonso in quiet posses
sion of his kingdom, requiring only the restitution of
such Spanish towns as the latter had previously
captured. The next remarkable feat in which we find this war
like monarch engaged, is on the occasion of the siege
of Santarem by the Moors. Alfonso, although then in
his eighty-eighth year, went out in his chariot to give
battle to the assailants ; but perceiving the fight growing
desperate, he quitted his carriage, and, sword in hand,
put himself at the head of his army, who, thus stimu-

ALFONSO I.

lated, renewed their efforts, and the Moors were routed.
After having returned thanks for this victory at the
monastery of Alcobaca, he is said to have instituted a
new order of knighthood, called the " Order of the
Wing," alleging that, during the battle, he saw beside
him a winged arm, which he believed to be that either of
St. Michael, or of his guardian angel ; and so, to make
sure of the matter, he dedicated the order to them
both. The order died, for want of revenues, with the
first knights.
In 1172, Alfonso, with the sanction of Pope Alex
ander, was crowned King of Portugal, when the order
of succession was settled. His last exploit was his
successful relief of his son Sancho, then besieged at
Santarem by the Moors. Alfonso died in December
1185, having, historians say, "overthrown thirty
kings, besides lesser potentates," and erected one hun
dred and fifty churches. He was of gigantic stature,
had red hair, a wide mouth, long visage, and large
sparkling eyes. He was buried in the church of Santa
Cruz, at Coimbra, in a wooden tomb, which Ema
nuel replaced by one more worthy of his illustrious
ancestor. Among the laws included in a sort of constitution
agreed upon between Alfonso and his people, we find
some peculiarities worthy of being recorded. In the
provisions for the settlement of the succession, it is
laid down that the daughter of a king, in default of
male issue, shall succeed him, provided she marry a
Portuguese nobleman ; who, however, shall not bear the
title of king, unless he have a male child by the queen.

SANCHO I. ^
When in company with the queen, he shall walk on
her left hand, and " shall not place the regal crown
upon his head."
By the ninth article it is provided, that all who are
ofthe blood royal, and their descendants, shall be ac
knowledged as princes. Portuguese who shall have
fought for the king's person, or for the defence ofthe
royal standard, shall be noble ; as shall the descend
ants of those who, being made prisoners by barbarians,
shall die in captivity : those who have killed an enemy
who is a king, or a king's son, or shall have taken the
royal standard, shall be noble. Nobility, by another
article, is declared to be forfeited by cowardice in
battle, perjury, treason, misprision of treason, deser
tion, theft, blasphemy, defamation ofthe queen or her
daughters, and the act of striking a woman.
Persons convicted of theft were to be exposed with
their shoulders bare in the market-place ; .to be
branded on the forehead for the third offence, and, if
then incorrigible, liable to suffer death on conviction.
In cases of adultery both parties, on conviction, to
be burnt ; but if the injured husband reclaim his wife,
she is spared, and the male criminal also ; it being
held to be unjust that one should suffer, and the other
escape. Sancho I.
Sancho I., surnamed the Populator, was born at
Coimbra on the 11th of December, 1154, and suc
ceeded to the crown on the death of his father, Al
fonso I., in 1185; anterior to which, he distinguished

10 SANCHO I.
himself by his skill and gallantry in war. The cere
monies observed on the occasion of the death of his
father are curious, and, as having been repeated on
similar occasions for a long series of years, if not until
modern times, are worth recording; and we shall quote
them in the words of our authority.
" The judges and their officers walk a-foot from the
town-house, with long mourning cloaks with hoods to
them on their heads. After them the town standard-
bearer on a horse with mourning trappings, with black
colours on his shoulder, the end whereof trails upon
the ground. Then follows the sheriff, with two others,
in mourning like the others, each of them carrying a
buckler over his head ; next to them come the alder
men, followed by a multitude of people. In this man
ner they proceed to the great church, where the sheriff,
having made a short speech, declaring the king's death
and their great loss, he lets fall the buckler from his
head upon the stones, and breaks it to pieces; at which
the people raise a hideous lamentation. Then they go
to the Mint, and so to the great Hospital, at both which
places they perform the same ceremony ; which done,
they return to the great church and hear mass."
Sancho began his reign by devoting himself to the
repairs of towns and castles, and building others ; and
particularly to the encouragement of agriculture, —
hence his surname. He had not been two years on
the throne before his kingdom was invaded, in great
force, by Ferdinand King of Leon ; who, however,
after several minor repulses, was finally defeated at
La Vera.

SANCHO I. 11
In 1188, a fleet of English, Flemings, and Danes,
on their way to the Holy Land, put into the Tagus
for supplies, which the king granted to the extent re
quired ; stipulating, in return, for the assistance of the
strangers in the reduction of Silves, the metropolis of
Algarve, then in possession of the Moors. To this
the strangers consented; bargaining however for the
plunder of the city if taken, which it was in two
months, after a vigorous defence. The place was
lost in the following year, when Sancho recovered it,
and took some other towns; on which occasion he
assumed the title of King of Algarve, as well as of
Portugal. About the year 1191, his kingdom was invaded by
an overwhelming army of Moors, who took Torres
Novas, and finally laid siege to Santarem ; but were
compelled to abandon it, in consequence of the plague
breaking out in their army. This terrible disorder,
and a wasting famine, shortly afterwards visited the
Portuguese to so awful an extent, that the historian
informs us that men perished in their houses, and wild
beasts in the forests ; and the result was, that a great
portion of the kingdom was depopulated. " All
this," adds a chronicler, " was pre-shown by a total
solar eclipse."
These calamities were quickly followed by fresh
incursions of the Moors under Mirammolin Aben-
Joseph, aided by the kings of Cordova and Seville,
making together a force, it is said, of 400,000 men.
After the country had been ravaged by the invaders,
the king, unable to rid himself of his adversaries by

12 SANCHO I.
force of arms, concluded a truce with them for five
years, " which," adds one authority, "ended in a won
derful eclipse of the sun. This was followed by earth
quakes, floods, storms at sea, and many other calami
ties, for the space of eight years. Men laboured under
a horrid distemper, for, their entrails consuming, they
died raving." At the expiration of the truce, the infi
dels committed great ravages, and, among other atroci
ties, put the monks of Alcobaca to the sword. Sancho,
at last rendered furious by these aggressions, sallied
forth at the head of his troops, took Boca de Palmella,
and recovered Elvas.
He was subsequently involved in a contest with
the King of Leon, and the country became the theatre
of much civil contention. He appears, towards the
close of his reign, to have entertained a desire to em
bark for the Holy Land, and assist in the recovery of
Jerusalem from Saladin ; but, being dissuaded from
the enterprise, he contented himself with furnishing
supplies for the expedition. He died in March 1211,
and was buried in the church of Santa Cruz at Coim
bra, in a tomb opposite to that of his father ; and it
is said, that when the tomb was replaced, 400 years
after his death, by King Emanuel, his body was found
uncorrupted. It is related of him that he had no
particular residence, but was constantly moving about
his dominions, in order that all his subjects might
have the advantage of his presence. He equalled his
father in military prowess, although not quite so
successful. He was a patron of military and reli
gious orders, and of merit generally ; a friend to the

ALFONSO II. 13
poor, and a true patriot. He left behind him a well-
filled treasury, amounting to upwards of 700,000
crowns. Alfonso II.
Alfonso II. , surnamed the Fat, the son of Sancho I.,
was born at Coimbra, on the 25th of April, 1185, and
ascended the throne of Portugal at the age of twenty-six.
He married his cousin Urraca, daughter of Alfonso
VII. of Castile. His reign was soon disturbed by his
contentions with his brothers and sisters, whom his
father had left, in some measure, independent of him.
He appears to have been worsted in the outset, but
finally obtained a victory over his antagonists, who
then appealed to the Pope, with, however, little advan
tage. At last, a reconciliation with his brothers was
effected, and he had then leisure to devote his attention
to the Moors, whom, by the aid of some German and
Flemish crusaders, who had put in from stress of wea
ther, he defeated at the siege of Alcazar do Sal, and
subsequently at Elvas, and lastly at Alcozer. " Many
other his warlike exploits," adds the chronicler with
remarkable simplicity, " are buried in oblivion."
He appears to have been distinguished as a legis
lator. He enacted general laws, — each town having
been previously governed by its own peculiar code;
and, for this purpose, held a parliament at Coimbra,
when the prices of all the necessaries of life were
regulated. He ordered that the plaintiff, when cast
in an action, should pay a fine ; and that sentence of
death should not he executed upon a criminal until
twenty days after it had been passed. He was parti-

14 SANCHO II.
cularly severe upon the church, and was accordingly
reproved for it by the Archbishop of Braga, which,
however, only increased the ire of the king, who
stripped that see of its possessions ; and in this state
of variance with the clergy he died, in the year 1223,
in the thirty-eighth year of his age, and the twelfth
of his reign.
He is described as having been remarkably fat, —
hence his surname, — of gigantic stature, with a high
forehead, lively eyes, yellow hair, and generally
handsome. He was buried, as was the queen his wife, in the
monastery of Alcobaca, in a plain tomb, without any
inscription or epitaph, "as," says the historian, "were
all the early kings of Portugal."
Sancho II.
Sancho II., surnamed the Chaplain, or Sancho with
the Hood, the eldest son of Alfonso, was born on the
8th of September, 1203, at Coimbra. The first act
of his reign was to reconcile himself with the clergy,
and especially with the Pope ; who thereupon removed
the interdict which had been placed upon the king
dom in the former reign.
He was engaged, like his predecessors, in wars with
the Moors, from whom he recovered many places
which had fallen into their hands. He appears to
have been a weak prince, and greatly in the power of
his favourites. At one time we find him oppressing
the clergy, like his father ; and, at another, making
submission. He was indebted for much of his mili-

ALFONSO III. 15
tary success to his general, Payo Perez Correa, through
whose valour the whole of Algarve was brought under
the power of the king.
The latter part of his reign was marked by conten
tions with his subjects, who became jealous of the
influence of his wife ; and to such a height did these
dissensions attain, that the rebels broke into the pa
lace of Coimbra, and carried off the queen by force.
He finally fled to Toledo, where Ferdinand of Castile
held his court; and in that city he devoted the re
mainder of his life to acts of piety, and died there in
the year 1248. His queen, Mencia, is described as
having been very beautiful. Some assert that she
joined him at Toledo; others that she was never heard
of after her abduction from Coimbra. He is repre
sented to have been possessed of great personal attrac
tions, among which are enumerated " green eyes and
a long nose."
Pie is said to have been painted in ancient pictures as
having a sceptre with a pigeon on the top of it ; " or,"
adds the historian, with a praiseworthy distrust of the
artists of the day, " it might be a stork."
He had no children, and thus the direct line of the
Portuguese kings was finished with him. Some wri
ters attempt to account for the inconsistencies which
marked his character, by alleging that he was insane.
Alfonso III.
Alfonso III., surnamed the Bolognese, was born at
Coimbra on the 5th of May, 1210, and succeeded
Sancho II., at whose deposition he assumed the title

16 ALFONSO III.
of regent, but, on the death of his brother, was pro
claimed king. The great blot on the memory of this
prince is, his base ingratitude in putting away his wife
Maud, who, says the chronicler, " married him when
he had nothing," and taking in her place Beatrice, ille
gitimate daughter of Alfonso X. of Castile. The Pope
resented the act, and denounced it; but the death of
the unhappy Maud put an end to the controversy.
He had some difficulty in making the various forti
fied towns own his sway. One of them, Bebado, was
valiantly defended by Ferdinand Rodriguez Pacheco,
and a curious anecdote is related on the occasion.
The garrison was reduced to the greatest straits, when,
one morning, a bird -of prey dropped a large trout,
which it had fished out of the Mondego, into the town.
The governor, Pacheco, sent it instantly as a present
to the regent, who, concluding that the town must
needs be well supplied, raised the siege and departed
for Coimbra.
The ancient kings of Portugal would seem to have
been more skilled in taking places than in keeping
them ; for we find Alfonso attacking and re-conquering
the kingdom of Algarve in 1249, and in 1251 it was
retaken by Alfonso the Wise, of Castile. On the mar
riage, already alluded to, of the Portuguese Alfonso
with the illegitimate daughter of him of Castile, it was
arranged that the latter should hold Algarve during
his life.
Although he failed in the performance of many of
the promises he made on his accession to power, and
broke faith with the church, he had yet qualities which

DENIS. I /
entitled him to the gratitude of his country. He ex
pelled the Moors from Portugal, established fairs,
encouraged commerce, and cleared the highways of
robbers. He was also a patron of literature and
science, and invited to his court several distinguished
men of letters from foreign countries.
He died at Lisbon, March 20, 1279, and, ten years
afterwards, his remains were removed to the monastery
of Alcobaca by his son Denis, and deposited opposite
to the tomb of his first wife Beatrice ; which, it is said,
being afterwards opened, she appeared as beautiful
as when in life. Alfonso was of gigantic stature, and
had small but sparkling eyes, black hair, and a fair
complexion. Denis.
Denis, son of Alfonso III. and Queen Beatrice, was
born at Lisbon on the 9th of October, 1261. He was
surnamed the Husbandman, from his patronage of agri
culture. Although only nineteen years old when he
succeeded his father, he appears to have considered
himself quite competent to the government of the
kingdom, since his first act was to deprive his mother
of all influence in public affairs ; although in other
respects, it is said, he treated, her with the deference
due to her rank and relationship. At the age of twenty,
he asked and obtained in marriage Elizabeth, daugh
ter of Peter III. of Aragon, then but eleven years old.
The early part of his reign was disturbed by some
civil dissensions with his brother Alfonso, which, how
ever, were of short d uration. We next find him engaged
c

18 ALFONSO IV.
in hostilities with Sancho III. of Castile, and his suc
cessor Ferdinand ; which, after much bloodshed and
rapine, were terminated by a peace. For the rest,
the reign of Denis was peaceful, as far as regarded his
foreign relations ; for, unlike his predecessors, he ap
pears to have interfered very little with the Moors,
against whom he took no other part than aiding
Ferdinand with a small body of horse, and a loan
of money, in an incursion on the infidels.
His latter years were, however, much embittered
by the disobedient and rebellious conduct of his son
Alfonso, to whom he finally became reconciled. He
died at Santarem on the 7th of January, 1325, leaving
behind him a reputation for liberality, anxiety for
the welfare of his subjects, and a great repugnance
to taxation. It was said of him, that he was a great
king, a fortunate husband, but an unhappy parent.
Alfonso IV.
Alfonso IV., surnamed the Brave, son of Denis,
was born at Coimbra on the 8th of February, 1290,
and ascended the throne in 1325. An undutiful son,
he became a cruel father and a tyrannical prince.
His addiction to the pleasures of the chase, to the neg
lect of the affairs of state, in one instance drew down
upon him a reproof from a member of his council,*
* The particulars of this interview are interesting. The prince
presented himself to his council, and, fresh from the chase, re
counted to them the history of a whole month spent in hunting,
fishing, and hawking ; whereupon a member of his cabinet re
marked, that courts and camps were designed for kings, and not
woods and deserts : and after some further observations on the

ALFONSO IV. 19
which being resented by the king, the whole of them
stood up and declared that they would choose another
sovereign, if he did not alter his course of life.
An instance of Trial by Battle occurred in this
reign, — the issue proving the absurdity of the system
of duelling ; inasmuch as the aggrieved party, Martin
Catina, had his head cloven in sunder by his adversary
Ribeiro, who had killed his brother.
Alfonso was involved in wars with Castile ; but
afterwards, agreeing to a peace, he united with that
power in an expedition against the Moors, in which
the combined forces were victorious.
The most romantic event of his reign, and one
which has branded his name with undying infamy, is
the loves of his son Peter and the celebrated Agnes de
Castro. Agnes was the daughter of a Castilian gentle
man, who had sought refuge at the court of Portugal.
She was a woman of singular beauty ; and Alfonso,
the heir-apparent, becoming enamoured of her charms,
was privately married to her. " Their union became
known to the king, on the occasion of his requiring
frivolous nature of the monarch's pursuits, added, " If your ma
jesty will attend to the wants, and remove the grievances of
your people, you will find them obedient subjects; if not — "
" If not, what ? " exclaimed the king in a transport of rage. " If
not," continued the nobleman in the same calm tone in which he
had begun, " they must look for another and a better king. "
Alfonso quitted the council-chamber with many expressions of
wrath ; but shortly afterwards returned, and, acknowledging his
error, said, " I perceive the truth of what you say ; he cannot
long have subjects who will not be a king. Remember, that
from this day you have nothing more to do with Alfonso the
Sportsman, but with Alfonso King of Portugal."
c2

20 ALFONSO IV.
his son to contract an alliance, which it was thought
would contribute to the interests of Portugal.
The king, enraged at being thus foiled in his am
bitious designs, and moreover urged on by his cour
tiers, who were resolved to ruin the unhappy woman,
determined on sacrificing her. Agnes, being then at
the monastery, or, as one writer says, the palace, of
Santa Clara at Coimbra, heard ofthe king's approach,
and, aware of his cruel intentions, went out to meet
him, accompanied by her three infants ; and, falling
at his feet, implored his mercy. He appears at first,
overcome by the spectacle, to have relented; for he
turned back; and the beautiful Agnes would have been
spared, had not his courtiers interposed, and goaded
the king to consent to her destruction. The result
was, that she was barbarously murdered by the fac
tion who had plotted against her, one of whom struck
off her head.
The prince, being told of her fate on his return
from a hunting excursion, was in a paroxysm of rage,
which he first gratified by laying waste, with fire and
sword, the country between the Douro and Minho,
where the estates of the conspirators were situated.
Although he was subsequently induced to submit to
the authority of his father, he never relinquished his
designs of vengeance on the evil counsellors who com
passed the death of his wife ; and who, aware of the
implacability of his feelings, took refuge in Castile.
There is in the vicinity of Coimbra, opposite to
that city, on the south bank of the river, a spot to
which tradition points as the scene of the hapless

PETER I. 21
loves of Peter and Agnes ; and hence it has received
the name of the Quinta das Lagrimas, or Garden of
Tears; in which is also a fountain called the Fonte
dos Amores, or Fountain of Loves. It is related, that
the current of this water conveyed her letters to her
lover ; who, by means of a grating fixed for the pur
pose, arrested them in their course. In the bed of this
stream there are stones marked by red spots, which
the lovers of the marvellous implicitly believe to be
the drops of blood shed by her murderers. The foun
tain is graced by some beautiful cypresses ; and in
order that the associations of the spot might not fall
into oblivion, General Trant caused a tablet, bearing
a quotation from the Lusiad, to be placed over the
source of the stream.
Alfonso IV. died at Lisbon in May, 1357, at the
age of sixty-seven, little regretted by his subjects ;
although, since " none are all evil," he appears to
have enacted some wholesome laws, and to have ad
ministered them, in most instances, with equity. His
qualities as a warrior obtained for him the surname
of the Brave. Peter I.
Peter I. was born at Coimbra on the 1 9th of April,
1 320. His first care, on his accession to the throne
in 1357, was to avenge the death of his beloved Agnes.
After having confiscated the estates of her murderers,
he prevailed upon the King of Castile to give up their
persons, in exchange for four proscribed Castilians
who had taken refuge in Portugal. One of the con-

22 PETER I.
spirators, James Lopez Pacheco, by a fortunate acci
dent, escaped in the disguise of a beggar, and found
safety in France ; but the other two, Alfonzo Gonza
lez and Peter Coello, were delivered over to the ven
geance of Peter, who first caused them to be put to
the rack, which, however, failed in extorting a con
fession. They were then put to death by a refinement
in torture, the heart of each, while they were yet
living, being cut out, the one at the breast, and the
other at the back; and, at length, they were burned in
presence of the king, who ordered the table at which
he dined to be placed in front of the fire.
Having thus terribly satiated his revenge, his next
care was to do honour to his deceased wife, whose
funeral obsequies he caused to be solemnly celebrated.
Her body, which had been buried in the church of
Santa Clara at Coimbra, was disinterred, when it was
crowned, and arrayed in royal robes ; and, adds the
historian, Peter's subjects " kissed those bones which
were once beautiful hands." Her remains were then
conveyed to the monastery of Alcobaca ; the road
between which and Coimbra, a distance of seventeen
miles, being lined by many thousands of men in two
rows, forming a continued lane, with lighted flam
beaux in their hands.
His reign was a remarkably peaceful one. He died
in 1367, having reigned only nine years. He is de
scribed as of a majestic presence, tall stature, very
affable and easy of access, and as delighting in music,
dancing, and letters.
He obtained from some the surname of the Just,

PETER I. 23
and from others that of the Cruel, and with some
show of reason in either case ; inasmuch as the seve
rity of his justice often degenerated into cruelty, of
which some instances are on record. He caused a
friar, who had violated his vow of celibacy, to be put
into a case of cork and sawn asunder ; while, with an
inconsistency for which it is hard to account, he had
the Bishop of Oporto merely scourged for a similar
offence. He beheaded a gentleman for striking a pur
suivant and tearing his beard. He hanged a clerk of
the treasury for receiving a bribe ; and beheaded a
gentleman for staving a countryman's cask, which was
full. He caused another to pay nine times the value
of certain silver cups, which he had borrowed and
refused to restore.
An ecclesiastic of high rank, having been displeased
with a mason for the manner in which he had per
formed some work, killed the poor man on the spot ;
an act for which the courts appointed to try persons
of his function sentenced him to be suspended from
saying mass for one year. The king, who had purposely
refrained from taking any step in the matter until the
sentence was promulged, sent for the mason's son,
and hinted to him that he should kill the priest, which
he did ; and falling, consequently, into the hands of
the law, was condemned to die. As, however, the
sentence could not be executed without the sanction
of the king, the latter, on the subject being brought
before him, inquired what was the criminal's trade;
and, on being answered that it was the same as his
father's, " Then," said Peter, " I shall commute his

21 PETER I.
sentence by restraining him from meddling with stone
and mortar for a twelvemonth." He afterwards
punished capital crimes among the clergy with death;
and on their petitioning him that he would refer their
causes to a superior tribunal, he said, " That is pre
cisely what I do ; for I send them to the highest of
all tribunals, — to that of their Maker and mine."
On another occasion, while travelling incognito, he
met with a widow who was lamenting her poverty,
which disabled her from ensuring a favourable decision
on her cause, by a bribe to the judge. The king,
having ascertained that her case was one of hardship
and oppression, presented her with the requisite sum,
desiring her to give it to the judge in the same purse,
a green one, in which she received it. The cause was,
of course, determined in her favour; when the king,
who had followed her into court, commanded her to
state the circumstances under which she had secured
the favour of the judge. This having been done, the
corrupt magistrate was searched, and, the purse being
found upon him, he was immediately led forth and
hanged. But, although severe in punishing crime, he was
equally ready to reward virtue ; and so great was his
liberality, that it is said of him, that he passed not a
day without making a present, for which purpose he
always had a large quantity of plate. So greatly was
he regretted by his subjects, that it was remarked of
him, " that either he should not have been born, or
never have died."

ferdinand. 25
Ferdinand.
Ferdinand was born at Coimbra in 1345, and suc
ceeded his father Peter at the age of twenty-seven.
He soon engaged in a war with Castile, and entered
into a league with the Moorish king of Granada. He
was in turn invaded by Henry of Castile, with whom
he afterwards concluded a peace; under one ofthe con
ditions of which Ferdinand married Leonora, Henry's
daughter, thereby violating his pledge to the King of
Aragon, whose daughter he had previously solicited.
Ferdinand's fickle nature caused him again to come to
hostilities with the King of Castile ; which, however,
after a contest wherein Henry had manifestly the ad
vantage, were terminated by a peace, the conditions of
which were that Ferdinand should join the kings of
Castile and France against England.
The residue of his reign of seventeen years was
marked by the same vacillating policy : we find him
at one time joining with, and at others plotting
against, Castile ; which latter power, on one occasion,
captured the whole of the Portuguese fleet, with the
exception of a single galley. Within a year or two
of his death, he solicited and obtained succours from
England, against which power he had previously com
bined with Castile and France. Being, in consequence,
supported by 3000 men under Edmund Duke of York,
whom another historian calls Earl of Cambridge, in
his contest with Castile, he suddenly concluded a
peace with the latter power without the knowledge of
the English, who were thus compromised, and com-

26 JOHN I.
plained loudly of his breach of faith. Ferdinand
died at Lisbon on the 24th of October, 1383, and
was buried in the monastery of St. Francis at Santa
rem. He was surnamed the Handsome. He is de
scribed by a Spanish writer as " a king below medi
ocrity, and a man without courage."
John I.
John I., described as of " Happy Memory," was the
natural son of Pedro, and was born at Lisbon on the
22d of April, 1357. He was made Grand Master of
the order of Avis at the age of seven. His first notable
act was the murder of the Count John Fernandez, the
favourite of Eleanor, to whom her husband King Fer
dinand had confided the administration of the govern
ment. John was afterwards proclaimed Protector, and
appears to have passed a stormy life until he was
named king, when he was more fortunate.
The most remarkable event in his reign was the
battle of Aljubarrota, described at large in the present
volume under the head of Batalha, in which he defeated
the Castilians, who were greatly superior to him in num
bers. Shortly after this victory, the Duke of Lancas
ter having been invited into Portugal, John married
his daughter Philippa : hence his disposition to cul
tivate a friendship with England, and in honour of
the British monarch, he named his successor to the
throne Edward. Philippa united in her person all
those rare qualities which so often distinguish her
countrywomen ; and it is to her good sense, combined
with the influence she so justly possessed over her hus-

EDWARD — ALFONSO V. 27
band, that much of the success of his rule is attri
butable. His reign was remarkable for the number of
eminent statesmen and generals. He is described as
having been " of a pleasing aspect " and great stature;
it is added, that his helmet was too large for any head,
and his battle-axe too weighty for any arm but his
own. He died at Lisbon on the 4th of August, 1433,
and was buried at Batalha, having reigned forty-eight
years. Edward.
Edward, surnamed the Eloquent, was born at Vi-
seu, in 1391. His short reign of five years was marked
by misfortune. His expedition against the Moors
proved most disastrous, and was soon followed by
the plague, which broke out at Lisbon in 1438, and
of which the king, although he fled from the city, died
at Tomar on the 9th of September in that year, the
infection having been communicated to him in a
letter. He was buried at Batalha. He was distin
guished as an author, having written two works ; one
a treatise on the " Fidelity of Friends," and the other
entitled " The Good Counsellor."
Alfonso V.
Alfonso V., surnamed the African, succeeded his
father, the late king, at the age of six years. He
was born at Cintra in 1432. For some time after
his accession to the throne, much contention arose
between the queen and the nobles, as to the adminis-

28 ALFONSO V.
tration of affairs. At length, in obedience to the
demands of the populace, headed by a tailor and a
cooper, Prince Peter, son of John I., was named
regent, and appears to have done his duty most wisely
and faithfully until the young king assumed the go
vernment, which he did at the age of fourteen. Not
long afterwards, however, we find the late regent in
arms at the head of a numerous body against his
sovereign, who finally overthrew them in a battle, in
which Prince Peter is said to have been killed; but
according to some historians, who greatly condemn
the conduct of Alfonso, the latter caused Peter to be
destroyed. Alfonso was very successful in his wars with the
Moors, and took Arzilla and Tangier. He was sub
sequently engaged in a war with Castile, with various
success ; but at last a peace was concluded between
the two powers for the space of one hundred years;
and it is singular that the treaty was kept almost to
the letter, it being one hundred and one years after
wards that war was again declared between them.
In 1480, Alfonso, before his councillors, nobles, and
ecclesiastics, expressed his contrition for the errors
of his government, which he solemnly renounced in
favour of his son, and determined to end his days in a
convent. On his way to Cintra, in pursuance of this
design, he was seized by illness, and died in the forty-
eighth year of his age, and was buried at Batalha. He
was the first King of Portugal who collected a royal
library.

JOHN II. 29
John II.
John II. , surnamed the Perfect, was born at Lisbon
on the 3d of May, 1455. His reign was chiefly re
markable for the number and importance of the disco
veries made by voyagers under his auspices. In his
reign, the Duke of Braganza was executed for high
treason; shortly after which occurrence, the Duke of
Viseu conspired against the life of the king, who is
said to have sent for the duke, and having taken him
aside, inquired of him what he would do to the man
that designed to kill him. " I would kill him first, if
I could," was the reply. " Then," replied the king,
"you have given judgment against yourself," and
immediately stabbed him to the heart.
It was during this reign that the great Columbus,
whose services John had previously rejected, arrived at
Lisbon, after his first voyage to America. The king
received him very courteously, and treated him with
great distinction during his stay in Lisbon.
The conduct of this prince, with regard to those with
whom he had associated previously to his accession to
the throne, will remind the reader of that pursued by
Henry V. of England. A person, who had been his
intimate companion, presented to him a paper, in which
the prince promised to make him a count when he be
came king. John received the paper, which he imme
diately tore, and said to the applicant, " Those who
corrupt the minds of young princes, and, by becoming
the instruments of their pleasures, extract from them

30 EMANUEL.
promises that ought not to be performed, should con
sider it as a favour that they are not punished."
To an indolent and corrupt, yet withal able judge,
he once said, " Take care, friend : I hear you keep your
hands open and your doors shut." The judge, it is
said, took the hint and became exemplary in the per
formance of his duty.
When the French restored what our authority calls
a " caravel," (a vessel of light burden,) which they
had taken from the Portuguese, a parakeet only was
missing ; but John refused to release the French ves
sels until the bird was sent to Lisbon, saying, " I
would have it understood, that the flag of Portugal
shall protect even a parakeet."
John died at Alvor, from poison as some allege, on
the 25th of October, 1495. He was a very liberal
prince, and among other claims to the respect of pos
terity, his abhorrence of court favourites deserves to
be mentioned. He was buried at Batalha.
Emanuel.
Emanuel, surnamed the Fortunate, was born at
Alconchete on the 31st of May, 1469. We find him
early engaged in an unsuccessful attempt to aid the
Venetians against the Turks in 1501, and a descent
on the coast of Africa, in 1514, with somewhat better
success. The reign of Emanuel was marked also by
the birth of Camoens, the discoveries of Vasco de
Gama, Gaspar Cortereal, and Ferdinand Magellan.
It is said that in honour of the discovery of India by

EMANUEL. 31
the first of these adventurers, the king founded the
monastery of Belem. Emanuel, resolving to dedi
cate to Heaven the first fruits of his great successes in
India, sent a magnificent present to the Pope, valued
at 500,000 crowns. It consisted of an elephant covered
with cloth of gold ; a Persian horse richly caparisoned ;
a panther " that would hunt, and was at command like
a dog ; a whole suit of vestments for all occasions, all
of cloth of gold, so thickly embroidered with pearls
and precious stones, that the ground of it could not
be discovered."
The transactions of this king's reign, particularly
those abroad, form the subject of a work in two vo
lumes, written in Latin by " Jerome Osorio, Bishop of
Silves," and translated by James Gibbs.
Nothing can more strikingly illustrate the barbarism
of the times, than the following horrible occurrence :
On the 6th of April, 1506, certain persons, assembled
in the church of St. Dominic, fancied that a crucifix
in one of the chapels emitted a supernatural light,
which a new convert from Judaism had the audacity
to affirm was produced by the reflection of the sun's
rays through an opposite window. He was forthwith,
without further ceremony, dragged out of the chapel
and burnt, the rabble, encouraged by a friar, sur
rounding the fire. The result was, the barbarous mur
der of two thousand other recent converts. Emanuel,
who was then at Avis, greatly incensed at this atro
cious outrage, hanged some of the offenders, caused two
ofthe friars, who were the instigators of the mob, to be
burnt, and banished the rest of the brotherhood.

32 JOHN III.
Emanuel died at Lisbon on the 13th of December,
1521, after an illness of nine days, and was buried at
Belem. It is said that his arms were so disproportion
ately long, that, when he stood erect, his fingers reached
below his knees. His qualities are somewhat oddly
summed up by his historian, who says, that " he was
much addicted to all sports, riding, dancing, music,
and painting ; very devout, and therefore on holy-days
went to several churches ; extraordinary charitable ;
a lover of astrologers and jesters. He reformed seve
ral religious houses that lived not regularly." Another
author says, that he was greatly attached to the
society of learned men. John III.
John III., surnamed the Compassionate, was the se
cond son of Emanuel, and was born at Lisbon on the 6th
of June, 1502. His reign is chiefly remarkable forthe
establishment ofthe Inquisition, in 1534, for the sup
pression, or more correctly speaking, the persecution
of the Jews, which measure would seem to have been
the only blot on his memory. In the year 1531 there
occurred a great earthquake at Lisbon. His reign was
comparatively a peaceful one; and although in his
youth he exhibited an incurable disgust for study, he
was a very respectable statesman. He died at Lisbon,
of apoplexy, in the year 1557, and " with him," says
Murphy, " terminated the happy era of the Portuguese
monarchy." He was buried at Belem.
It is related of John that, on hearing that the Lord
of Azumbuja, a nobleman of one ofthe oldest families

SEBASTIAN. 33
in Portugal, was about, from necessity, to sell his es-
states, he recommended his prime-minister, Antonio de
Alaida, to buy them, as they were contiguous to his
own lands. " Your majesty," replied the minister,
" will do much better to enable him to keep them,
since himself and his ancestors have been impoverished
by the services they have rendered to the crown." The
king took the advice, and the noble family were saved
from the sacrifice. Sebastian.
Sebastian, surnamed (wherefore does not appear)
the Desideror, was the grandson of John III., and
was born at Lisbon on the 20th of January, 1554.
" On account of his name," says the historian, " Pope
Paul IV. sent him one of the arrows taken out of the
body of St. Sebastian, which the king took for his
device, and instituted the military order of the Arrow,
which lasted not long." He early gave evidence of a
good disposition and brilliant talents, which, how
ever, seem to have been marred by his education ; for
we find him engaged in all sorts of wild and extrava
gant adventures, — such as sallying forth alone into
the forests, and putting to sea, without any purpose, in
a storm. In his expedition against the Moors, he was
distinguished for his valour, and was at first success
ful ; but subsequently, in 1578, his army was utterly
routed, and himself, after he had had three horses
killed under him, was slain by a Moorish officer.

34 henry  philip 11.
Henry.
Henry, surnamed the Chaste, the eighth son of Ema
nuel, was born at Almeirim, on the 31st of January,
1512. He was Archbishop of Braga, Lisbon, and
Coimbra ; Abbot of Alcobaca, and subsequently a car
dinal ; and it is said that, on the death of Paul, there
were many who voted for Henry as successor to the
papal chair. He was crowned in the sixty-seventh
year of his age, in the very church in which he had
received the mitre. He reigned but one year, and was
chiefly distinguished for his relentless persecution of
all who had been so unfortunate as to incur his dis
pleasure before his accession to the throne. He died
in the year 1580, and was buried at Belem.
Philip II.
Philip II. of Spain, and the first of that name of
Portugal, surnamed the Prudent, was born at Vallado-
lid, 31st of March, 1527 ; and, on the death of Henry,
put in his claim to the crown of Portugal, and esta
blished it, after some opposition from Antony, Grand
Prior of the order of Malta, who had been proclaimed
king by the multitude. The career of the Grand
Prior was somewhat romantic. He was an illegi
timate son of Prince Louis, the son of King Emanuel,
by Violante Gomez. He was brought up to a learned
profession, for which he had little taste, and perhaps
as little ability. He had, says his historian, " a
smooth tongue," and was remarkable for his devotion
to the fair sex. He served against the Moors, hy
whom he was taken prisoner; and being afterwards

PHILIP II. 35
ransomed, he returned, and disputed the crown of
Portugal with Philip. He was proclaimed king, but
was not strong enough to maintain the character.
After flying before the Spanish forces from place to
place, he appeared before Oporto,* which, being re
fused admittance, he battered and forced an entrance ;
but being pursued by the enemy, who battered the
town in their turn, Antony gave up the game, and
betook himself to the mountains. His enemies still
pressing upon him, he was saved by a faithful fol
lower, one Thomas Cacheyro, who swam across the
river Lima with the Grand Prior on his back; and
although 80,000 crowns were offered by Philip for his
apprehension, and many needy persons were con
cerned in his escape, not one of them betrayed him.
He fled into France, where he was favourably received
by the queen-mother, Catharine of Medicis. He
subsequently attempted, with the assistance first of
France, and next of England, to regain his position
in Portugal, but without success, and finally retired
to Paris, where he died at the age of sixty-four in
great poverty, although his biographer adds, that "the
inscription on his tomb calls him king."
The reign of Philip was marked by few stirring
events, as regards Portugal; but as King of Spain, he
is distinguished by his attempt at the conquest of
England through the means of the Armada : with what
* The view here given of this city, as it now is, was taken
from St. John's, which is the Brighton of Portugal, much re
sorted to by the wealthy inhabitants of Oporto ; and during the
months of July, August, and September, it is full of English.
D 2

36 PHILIP III-IV.
success it is unnecessary to add. The fate of his hap
less son Charles, also belongs more to Spanish history :
with reference to this, the Portuguese historian says,
" his father allowed him no other favour than to choose
what death he would die, and he said they might kill
him as they pleased. Being prepared for it, four
slaves strangled him with a silken rope." Philip
died in 1598, and was buried in the Escurial. His
gravity was worthy of a Spaniard : he is said never
to have laughed. Philip III.
Philip III., surnamed the Pious, was born at Ma
drid, 14th of April, 1578. Although crowned in
1598, he did not visit his kingdom of Portugal until
1619, when he entered Lisbon in great pomp. The
most remarkable act of his reign was, the banishment
of the Moors to the number of 500,000 ; a measure
which, although reprobated as one of equal impolicy
and injustice, was not without its advocates among
the fanatics ofthe day. "In the protection of letters,"
says Murphy, "as in every other quality which con
stitutes a great prince, Philip III. was far inferior to
his father;" and adduces, as an instance, his neglect
of Cervantes, whom he suffered to starve. Philip died
on the 31st of March, 1621, and was buried at the
Escurial. Philip IV.
Philip IV., surnamed the Great, was born at Valla-
dolid, 8th of April, 1605. His Spanish predecessors
had done little for Portugal, and Philip IV. ap-

JOHN IV. 37
peared resolved to consummate their misrule ; for after
invading the constitutional rights of the Portuguese,
he ordered a certain class to form themselves into
a body of cavalry, for the purpose of assisting him
in quelling a rebellion in Catalonia. The order was
received with murmurs, which at last assumed a more
decided character ; and on the 3rd of December, 1640,
broke out into a revolution, which, in an incredibly
short space of time, ended in the downfal of the Spanish
power in Portugal, and the proclamation of the Duke
of Braganza as king. Cardinal Richelieu is said to
have encouraged and fomented the revolution.
John IV.
John IV., surnamed the Restorer, was born at Villa
Vicosa in 1604 ; and on the 15th of December, 1640,
twelve days after the breaking out of the revolution,
was crowned King of Portugal. The news of the
result of the revolution was received by the prime
minister of the Spanish king with great consternation ;
nevertheless, putting a good face upon the matter, he
addressed his royal master by saying, "Sir, I bring
you happy news : your majesty has just now gained
a great duchy, and a considerable parcel of lands."
The king, in great surprise, inquired in what manner.
"Sir," replied the minister, "the Duke of Braganza is
run mad ; he has suffered himself to be deluded by
the multitude, who have proclaimed him King of
Portugal : now all his lands are forfeited to the crown,
and, that family being extirpated, your majesty will,
for the future, possess that kingdom in peace."

38 JOHN IV.
The king, however, was not to be cajoled ; but,
dissembling in turn, he addressed the following letter
to the new sovereign of Portugal : —
" Cousin and Duke,
" Some odd news are brought me lately, which
I esteem but folly, considering the proof I have had
of the fidelity of your house : give me advertisement
accordingly, because I ought to expect it from you,
and hazard not the esteem I make of yourself to the
fury of a mutinous rabble, but let your wisdom
comport you so, that your person may escape the
danger : my council will advise you farther. So God
guard you. " Your Cousin and King."
To which John returned the following reply : —
" My Cousin,
" My kingdom desiring its natural king, and my
subjects being oppressed with taxes and new imposi
tions, have executed without opposition that which
they had often designed, by giving me possession of a
kingdom which appertains to me; wherefore, if any
will go about to take it from me, I will seek justice in
uiy arms. God preserve your majesty.
" Don John the IV.,
" King of Portugal."*
* This correspondence will remind the reader of that which
took place between the two Irish kings. " Pay me the tribute
you owe me, or else  " says one of the potentates : to which
the other replies as pithily, " I owe you no tribute ; and if
I did  »

JOHN IV. 39
The reign of John IV., which lasted sixteen years,
was marked by several conspiracies against his person
and government, in one of which nearly fifty of the
conspirators, with the Duke of Caminha and the
Marquis of Villa Real at their head, suffered death.
The following is Dauncey's account of their
execution: —
" On the last day of August, 1641, the Marquis of
Villa Reale, the Duke of Camigna his son, the Count
de Armamac, and Don Augustine Manuele, were led
along a gallery to a scaffold erected for the purpose
with two stories ; on the uppermost of which stood
two chaires, on the next one, and on the scaffold itself
the fourth.
"The first that was conducted forth to execution
was the Marquis of Villa Reale, who was clothed in a
long black bayes cloak, and his servants attending
him in mourning. Being mounted to the uppermost
part of the scaffold, he prayed for a good space upon
his knees ; and then rising up, asked if there were no
hopes of pardon? which made the people with one
voice cry out, ' No ! let him dye, let him dye for a
tray tor.'
" The next funebrious ceremony of his execution
was the proclamation, which, according to the usual
manner, was made by the executioner in these words :
' This is the justice that the king, our sovereign lord,
commands to be executed upon the person of Don
Lewis de Meneses, sometimes Marquis of Villa Reale;
that his throat be cut as a traytor to his majesty, [the]
nobility, and people of this kingdom ; that for his

40 JOHN IV.
crime his goods be confiscated, and his memory
banished out of the world.' Whereat, all the people
cried out -Justice ! justice!'
" The marquis thereupon, seeing no hopes of any
reprieve, with a sober and becoming gravity demanded
pardon of all the spectators, desiring them to assist
him with their prayers to God for the pardon of this
and all his other sins ; then, turning to a father Jesuite,
his confessor, he prayed him in his behalf to present
himself at his majestie's feet, and beseech him, out
of his wonted goodness, to forgive him that hei
nous offence, committed against him and the whole
kingdom. " Having ended the speech, he very patiently sat
down in the chair ; and the executioner having, tied
his arms and legs to the arms and legs of the chair,
he leaned his neck over the back of the chair,
and the executioner with his knife cut his throat,
covering him afterwards with a black scarf.
" In the same manner his son, the Duke of Ca-
migna came to the scaffold, his servants all attending
him in mourning : as he came to his father's corps,
he kneeled down and several times kissed his feet,
begging of the people the suffrage of one pater-nostre
for his father's soul. Then, after some prayers, and
proclamation made by the executioner, he received
the same punishment.
"Next that suffered was the Count of Armamac,
in the chair seated upon the lower story ; and after
him, Don Augustine Manuele upon the scaffold itself.
The judges would have had all their necks cut

JOHN IV. 11
behind; but his majesty would not consent thereto,
as a punishment too ignominious for persons of
their quality.
" The same day Peter de Baeza and Melchior
Correa de Franca were drawn at a horse tayl to an
extraordinary high gallows, and there hanged ; whilest
Diego de Brito Nabo and Antonio Valente were ex
ecuted upon a lower : the quarters of these four were
set up at the gates of the city, and their heads placed
upon several frontier towns.
" In the month of September following, for the
same offence, Antonio Cogamigne and Antonio Correa
were likewise executed ; the first of which, during the
whole time of his imprisonment, was an example of
penitence, feeding onely upon bread and water, and
whipping himself very often, with continual prayers to
God for pardon of that, and all his other sins. As
for the Archbishop of Braga, and the Bishops of
Martina and Malacca, and Fryer Emanuel de Macedo,
though they were the persons that had the greatest
hand in the conspiracy, yet in regard they were eccle
siastical persons, they suffered not death, according to
their deserts, but were kept in prison till the Pope's
pleasure were known concerning them.
" Here must not be forgot a great example of
humility and repentance in the Archbishop of Braga,
not only in his life time, (when he often writ to the
king that he might suffer, and others be spared who
were rather drawn in, in complyance and obedience
to him than out of any ill will to the king and king
dom,) but also at his death, (which happened about

42 ALFONSO VI.
three years after his imprisonment,) when he gave
order that as soon as he was dead, his last will and
testament should be carried to the king, wherein
he humbly intreated his majesty to pardon the treason
committed against him and his native country, and
that he would permit his body to be buried without
the church of any parish of Lisbon, and that without
any inscription or tombstone, that there might remain
no memory of a man who had been a traytor to his
king and country."
John IV. died at Lisbon on the 26th of November,
1656, leaving behind him the reputation of many pri
vate virtues, but of few qualifications, beyond good
intentions, for the kingly office. He is said to have
been affable, affecting wit, fond of hunting, and very
careless in his apparel. Alfonso VI.
Alfonso VI., surnamed the Victorious, was bom at
Lisbon in 1643, and at the age of thirteen succeeded
to the throne, although he did not, until 1663, assume
the reins of government, which had, during his mi
nority, been held by his mother. That interval was
occupied, with little intermission, in contests with
Spain. In these struggles, which were continued until
the final settlement of the crown of Portugal in the
house of Braganza, Don John of Austria, as the ge
neral of the Spanish army, played a conspicuous part,
but was finally worsted. The battle of Montesclaros
decided the contest between the two powers in favour
of Portugal; and on the death of Philip IV. of Spain,
a peace was concluded. Alfonso, in the mean time,

PETER II  JOHN V. 43
after a reign of eleven years, during which he appears
to have drawn down upon himself the hatred of the
clergy and the contempt of his subjects generally, ab
dicated in favour of his brother Peter, who had pre
viously married the divorced wife of Alfonso. The
latter was sent to the island of Terceira, and thence
removed to Cintra, where he died of apoplexy in
1683. Among the complaints urged against him by
the clergy, is the curious one of his " laughing at the
comets, calling them names, and firing pistols at
them." He was buried at Belem.
Peter II.
Peter II., surnamed the Pacific, born in 1648, was
crowned on the death of his deposed predecessor with
great pomp. His reign passed, as respects Portugal,
without much to interest the reader, and would have
been a peaceful one but for his engaging in the Spanish
war of succession, in which he sided with the allies
against Philip V. of Spain. In the midst of this con
test, Peter II. died, in 1706, and was succeeded by
John V.,
Who was born in 1689, and, embued with similar feel
ings to those of his predecessor, likewise took part in
the war of succession ; which if we except, there is
little of interest to record in the reign of this prince,
who died in July 1750, and was followed by
Joseph,
Who was born in 1714. It was in the reign of this
monarch that the earthquake occurred, to which par-

44 JOSEPH — MARIA,
ticular allusion is made in another part of this volume,
as well as to the minister who was the virtual sove
reign during the life of Joseph. As the more prominent
events ofthe period will thus be elsewhere narrated, it
is unnecessary for us to dwell upon them here. Jo
seph died in 1777, and was succeeded in his dignity
and power by Maria,
A princess who ascended the throne in her forty-
third year with very moderate abilities, but with the
best intentions, which she followed up by encouraging
arts, commerce, and manufactures to the utmost of
her ability, and caused some extensive reforms at the
national university of Coimbra. These wholesome
measures were greatly opposed, and in some degree
successfully, by the monks; but enough remained to
entitle her to the . gratitude of her country. Among
other charitable acts, she founded an asylum for
orphans. After a reign of thirteen years, her mind
yielded to the effects of bodily disease, and her son
John was declared regent, and acted in that capacity
until 1800, when he was proclaimed king by the title
of John VI.
We thus arrive at the point to which we proposed
to extend our " Memorials."

arrival at oporto. 45

CHAPTER II.
OPORTO.
Arrival at Oporto — The Bar — Navigation of the Douro — Vine
yards — City of Oporto — Public Buildings — British Factory —
Serra Convent — Passage of the Douro — Sanguinary Conflict
— Battle and Storming of Oporto — Religious Establishments
— Tower of the Clergy — Cordoaria Market — Villa Nova —
Destruction of Wine-stores.
It was in the autumn of 1837 that our party embarked
from Falmouth for Portugal. Of our passage, as far
as wind and weather were concerned, we had little to
complain ; but it was so short, that before we were
seasoned to the element, or could " ship our sea
legs," we had completed our voyage, which thus, in
our individual instance, was marked by all the in
conveniences inseparable from a first experiment of
that nature.
On our arrival at Oporto, we made a discovery
which a little forecast might perhaps have opened to
us previously to our leaving England, — namely, that
we had not fixed upon the most auspicious season for
our expedition. The whole city was in confusion,
and every thing " out of joint," the inhabitants being
in daily expectation of a visit from Saldanha, and of
the consequent revival of the horrors of civil war.

46 BAR OF OPORTO.
Thus it happened that, although we had provided
ourselves with letters of introduction, which, under
ordinary circumstances would have commanded every
facility for the prosecution of our object, we found our
friends too much occupied in matters of nearer and
dearer interest, to be able to devote to us that time
which their kindness would otherwise have placed at
our disposal. Indeed, we have great reason to be
grateful for the attentions which, even in that un
toward position of affairs, were shown to us, both in
the way of hospitality and ciceroneship.
Having said thus much, in apology for any topo
graphical omissions in our work, we will at once
proceed to give the result of our personal observa
tions, as well as of our endeavours to glean, from all
available sources, every mformation having an inte
resting bearing upon our subject.
The bar of Oporto is accounted for, by the Duke de
Chatelet, in the following manner. After referring to
the sunken rocks at the entrance of the harbour, he
says that, at certain seasons, " the river swells con
siderably, and carries with it a quantity of sand,
brought down by the different torrents which issue
from the sides of the mountains. As the rocks break
the current of the river, the water has no longer,
therefore, to carry the sand so far. It thus accumu
lates about these rocks, and forms a bar, which is
annually increasing, and becoming more and more
dangerous. The English Oporto Company," says the
same authority, "proposed to destroy these rocks, and
to clear the passage ; but the Portuguese replied, that

OEUnRCBS Off ST FJRA^CHSC®, OFOK.3T®,

Landm. Published Q^t_2a."b339. "by Robert Jsnnmgs A C? 62, Cheapside.

NAVIGATION OF THE DOURO. 17
they never would agree to the removal of the best
defence of their harbour against the insults of the
Moors. In vain was it represented to them that, as
the mouth is narrow, two forts, whose lines of fire in
tersect each other, would defend the city from every
attack ; they persisted in declaring that they preferred
the security of their homes to the chance of more con
siderable profit, which in the end might occasion their
ruin." Attempts have repeatedly been made by the
English merchants, in more modern times, to obtain
the co-operation of the Portuguese in a plan for di
minishing the dangers of the navigation of the Douro,
but without success.
The Douro is navigable as far as the city for laden
vessels of two hundred and fifty tons burden. The
navigation of the upper part of the river is difficult,
and often dangerous ; but the dexterity of the navi
gators of the flat-bottomed craft, in which the wine
is conveyed, is wonderful. A representation of one
of these boats forms a prominent figure in the fore
ground of a view of Oporto in this volume.* Mr.
Kinsey, who speaks with an enthusiasm inspired by
the beauty of the scenery through which he passed,
descended the Douro, and refers to the perils of the
navigation which, even at that period when the river
was not swollen, were sufficient to shake the nerves
of the traveller. "Even in its present state," says
that amusing tourist, " we shot down these roaring
rapids with the celerity of lightning, occasionally en
joying the agreeable sensation of bumping against
* Page 6.

48 ANECDOTE OF A WINE-GROWER.
some sunken rock, and only escaping collision with
the shore by the activity and quicksightedness of the
man at the prow, who managed his long pole with
inconceivable dexterity."
On the same authority, we venture to quote an
anecdote illustrative of the jealousy with which the
wine-growers on the banks of the Douro regard tres
passers upon their vineyards. " Throughout the
whole of the wine country, the precaution is adopted
of fencing in the vineyards, on those sides lying con
tiguous to the roads, with a light frame-work com
posed of the arundo donax, covered with furze, to
secure the grapes from the grasp of the passing tra
veller. ' If we owe you money,' said a farmer recently
to a party, supposed to belong to the Company, who
were observed helping themselves to what came within
their reach, ' come and be paid ; but don't rob me of
my property.' "
The exports from the Douro are chiefly wine, fruit,
and cork-wood; and its importations dried cod, rice,
tea, sugar, and British manufactures.
Oporto is next to Lisbon in point of size, popula
tion, and the extent of its trade. It is built on the
north side of the Douro, on a steep declivity, and is
at the distance of about a league and a half from the
sea. The appearance of the city on a first approach,
the buildings rising one above another, is pleasing,
but the houses are irregularly constructed. The in
conveniences inseparable from its position on the side
of a hill, are, in a great degree, compensated by the
cleanliness of the town, the impurities of which,

BRITISH FACTORY. 49
especially during the rains, finding their way into
the river.
Of all the towns in Portugal, Oporto is that in which
the Englishman will find himself most at home. He
will there, if he have the advantage of an introduc
tion, be literally overwhelmed by invitations from the
British merchants resident in the city. Nor are the
hospitalities of the British Factory to be forgotten.
This building is in the Rua Nova dos Inglezes, and is
of white granite. The ground-floor is devoted to the
purposes of an Exchange, though, at present, it is
less used as a place of mercantile rendezvous than the
street in which it stands. It contains a ball-room, which
measures fifty-five feet long by thirty in breadth : the
whole is from the designs of Mr. Whitehead, formerly
the British Consul at Oporto, to whom Murphy, in his
Manuscript Journal, refers very gratefully, as a gentle
man from whom he received the kindest and most
hospitable attentions ; and of whose accomplishments
and taste for the fine arts, he speaks in the highest
terms. The Portuguese, according to their custom of
translating into their own language the names of fo
reigners, styled this gentleman Cabeca Branca. The
only complaint made by Murphy of Mr. Whitehead was,
that the latter was wont to propound to him certain
mathematical problems, the solution of which occupied
his time to the neglect of more important objects.
Murphy speaks of Mr. Whitehead's library as having
been extensive, but ill arranged. Among other objects
of curiosity which the room contained, was what he
describes as a small model, in lignum vitse, "demon-

50 BALLOONING IN 1670.
strating the strength of the tower of Pizza," doubtless
meaning the leaning tower of Pisa. He mentions, also,
as being in the same library, a "Treatise on the Art of
Flying, or Air Balloons," by Father Lama, a Jesuit,
published in 1670. " I observed," says Murphy, " some
of the plates having large boats, masts, and sails, to
which were attached three or four balloons, demon
strating the possibility of raising heavy bodies in the
air. If ever there is a possibility of guiding balloons,
it will be by sails and a mast. Father Lama, pro
bably, furnishes some good hints towards improving
this invention."
The Manuscript, after some severe animadversions
on the architecture of the Factory, then unfinished,
proceeds, " On the centre part of the front is a tablet,
over which is to be placed a figure on a plinth not
more than four inches high. What figure this will
be, is not yet determined, though every man of the
Company has given his opinion on the subject. I
suppose the wise heads will have it of a piece with the
rest of the building. A figure of Commerce, pouring
grapes out of a cornucopia, the head decorated with
vine leaves, etc., I think would be in character with
the intention of the building. In placing this figure
in the front, the Consul, (Mr. Whitehead,) had a fine
field for displaying his mathematical talents. He
showed me two pages of a folio book, filled with
algebraic calculations, wherein he proves, to a hair's
breadth, how much a figure ought to recline back, so
as to appear perfectly upright to a spectator standing
at right angles with the front of the building, at any

SERRA CONVENT. 51
required distance. I was going to enter upon the
principles of perspective, with regard to the placing of
statues, etc. ; but I found that Brook Taylor, with all
the optical knowledge of Newton and Smith, must
give way to the power of profound calculation."
Mr. Kinsey refers to a splendid entertainment of
which he partook at the Factory. He describes the
dinner as having been superb, and the wines exqui
site. It is said that all the good port wine, with no
trifling proportion of bad, finds its way to England ;
but, if we may speak on our own experience, we
should say that the private cellars of some of the
Oporto merchants contain wines of a quality rarely,
if ever, met with in England.
Oporto, like most Catholic cities, abounds in reli
gious establishments, there being in it not less than
twelve convents and five nunneries. The principal
convent is that called the Serra, which is on the Villa
Nova side of the Douro, and so elevated as to com
mand a view of the whole of Oporto. Kinsey speaks
of it as surrounded by orchards and gardens, rabbit
warrens and woods, in which the fathers enjoyed the
pleasures of the chase. Alas ! he would now scarcely
know the place. Such have been the ravages of the
recent civil war, that an almost shapeless ruin, sur
rounded by rude palisades, is all that remains of this
once beautiful building ; while the magnificent groves
of chestnut trees, luxuriant orchards, and rich vine
yards, have shared in the desolation. Doubtless, its
eligibility as a military position was the cause of its
having been thus battered. e 2

52 PASSAGE OF THE DOURO.
It was from the Serra convent that the Duke of
Wellington, then Sir Arthur Wellesley, directed in
person the celebrated passage of the Douro, on the
12th of May, 1809. The river, at the point at which
the passage was effected, is nearly three hundred yards
broad and extremely rapid, and the right bank was
very precipitous. " Here, then," says Colonel Napier,
" with a marvellous hardihood, Sir Arthur resolved,
if he could find but one boat, to make his way in the
face of a veteran army and a renowned general.
" A boat was soon obtained ; for a poor barber of
Oporto, evading the French patroles, had, during the
night, come over the water in a small skiff. This
being discovered by Colonel Waters, a staff-officer of
a quick and daring temper, he and the barber, and
the Prior of Amarante, who gallantly offered his aid,
crossed the river, and in half an hour returned, un-
perceived, with three or four large barges. Mean
while, eighteen or twenty pieces of artillery were got
up to the convent of Sarea; and Major-General John
Murray, with the German brigade, some squadrons of
the 14th dragoons, and two guns, reached the Barca
de Avintas, three miles higher up the river, his orders
being to search for boats, and to effect a passage there
also, if possible.
"Some ofthe British troops were now sent towards
Avintas to support Murray, while others came cau
tiously forwards to the brink of the river. It was ten
o'clock; the enemy were tranquil, and an officer
reported lo Sir Arthur Wellesley, that one boat was
brought up to the point of passage. ' Well, let the

PASSAGE OF THE DOURO. 53
men cross,'' was the reply ; and, upon this simple
order, an officer and twenty-five soldiers of the Buffs
entered the vessel, and in a quarter of an hour were
in the midst of the French army.
" The Seminary was thus gained without any alarm
being given, and every thing was still quiet in Oporto ;
not a movement was to be seen, — not a hostile sound
was to be heard. A second boat followed the first,
and then a third passed a little higher up the river ;
but scarcely had the men from the last landed, when
a tumultuous noise of drums and shouts arose in the
city, confused masses of the enemy were seen hurry
ing forth in all directions and throwing out clouds
of skirmishers, who came furiously down upon the
Seminary. The citizens were descried gesticulating
vehemently and making signals from their houses,
and the British troops instantly crowded to the bank
of the river, — Paget's and Hill's divisions at the point
of embarkation, and Sherbrooke's where the old boat
bridge had been cut away from Villa Nova.
" Paget himself passed in the third boat, and
mounting the roof of the Seminary, was immediately
struck down, severely wounded. Hill took Paget's
place ; the musketry was sharp, voluble, and increas
ing every moment, as the number" accumulated on
both sides. The enemy's attack was fierce and con
stant ; his fire augmented faster than that of the Bri
tish, and his artillery also began to play on the build
ing. But the English guns from the convent of Sarea
commanded the whole enclosure round the Seminary,
and swept the left of the wall in such a manner, as to

54 PASSAGE OF THE DOURO.
confine the French assault to the side of the iron-gate.
Murray, however, did not appear, and the struggle
was so violent, and the moment so critical, that Sir
Arthur would himself have crossed, but for the earnest
representations of those about him, and the just con
fidence he had in General Hill.
" Some of the citizens now passed over to Villa
Nova, with several great boats ; Sherbrooke's people
began to cross in large bodies, and at the same mo
ment a loud shout in the town, and the waving of
handkerchiefs from all the windows, gave notice that
the enemy had abandoned the lower part of the city ;
and now also Murray's troops were seen descending
the right bank from Avintas. By this time three bat
talions were on the Seminary, and Hill, advancing to
the enclosure wall, opened a destructive fire upon the
French columns as they passed, in haste and confusion,
by the Ballonga road. Five pieces of French artillery
were coming out from the town on the left ; but appal
led by the line of musketry to be passed, the driver
suddenly pulled up, and while thus hesitating, a vol
ley from behind stretched most of the artillerymen on
the ground ; the rest, dispersing among the enclosures,
left their guns on the road. This volley was given by
a part of Sherbrooke's people, who, having forced
their way through the streets, thus came upon the
rear. In fine, the passage was won, and the allies
were in considerable force on the French side of the
river." The following account of one of the sanguinary
encounters of which the Serra convent has been the

ATTACK ON THE SEURA CONVENT. 55
scene, is extracted from an anonymous publication,
entitled " The Civil War in Portugal, by a British
Officer of Hussars."
"Although the Serra convent had been repeatedly
attacked by day and night, 'twas on the 14th of Octo
ber, after it had suffered thirty-three hours' bombard
ment, and a considerable breach had been effected,
the repairing of which caused a melancholy loss of
life, that the most formidable effort was made by
upwards of seven thousand men, divided into three
columns. At three o'clock in the afternoon, very sud
denly, nine shells were thrown, at one and the same
instant, into the convent lines, and as immediately
the Miguelite columns advanced most impetuously,
confident in victory. Where the bursting bombs fell,
the women's shrieks and the shouts of the attacking
troops caused a momentary panic. Torres, at the
extent of his voice, cried " Soldiers! to the guns, and
to the trenches, or we are undone," and suiting his
own actions to his words, he instantly checked the
wavering of the few, and all rushed to the lines, and
to the guns already prepared with grape shot. Their
discharge of every missile caused a fearful destruction
in the advancing columns, and the enemy were con
founded. They had attacked upon three points. The
area was entered ; but the intruders paid dearly for
the momentary advantage. The Miguelites fought
bravely, proudly ; they were well led on ; and, in
some instances, were mounting the walls ; but the de
fence could not be excelled. The line of separation
of the blue jacket and the white trowsers of the defend-

56 DISTRESS OF THE BESIEGED.
ing troops, was never broken during three hours and a
quarter that it was anxiously watched by the distant
spectators, so well did they keep up to their hot
work. The firing for a time was tremendously heavy.
The Miguelites expended ninety rounds of cartridges.
Torres had seven hundred men ; keeping always two
hundred in reserve with fixed bayonets, to decide the
fate of the day should the enemy pass the sacred
boundary. As night closed, the enemy retired with a
loss of upwards of six hundred in killed and wounded;
amongst the former was a brigadier-general, and of the
latter a great proportion were miserably abandoned on
the field, where many died from exhaustion and want
of assistance, for the several attempts of the liberals
to fetch them in were repelled by a hot skirmishing.
Some few crawled to the convent during the night,
abandoning all idea of going in that state to their own
army, where they could only expect neglect."
These horrors are terrible enough when the contend
ing parties are of different nations ; but when regarded
as the results of a civil war, the contemplation is
melancholy indeed.
With reference to the bombardment of Oporto, we
would mention, on the authority of the author we have
just quoted, that during the progress ofthe siege, pro
visions of the most ordinary kind became so scarce,
that cats and dogs were dainties on which the French
and Belgian soldiers regaled themselves, and derided
the squeamishness of those who preferred hunger to
such a repast. Pie adds an amusing anecdote of a
Frenchman, who, seeing a well-fed cat sunning itself

FAMILIAR HORRORS. 57
at an open window, marked it for his prize ; and,
having seized it, was in the act of consigning it to
his corn-bag, when the owner of the animal, an old
woman of the house, flew to the rescue, and both she
and her pet plied their nails so well, that pussy es
caped into the house, and the Frenchman went home
without his supper.
Custom, which reconciles us to most things, had its
effect in diminishing the, horrors of war in the eyes of
the inhabitants; for although the besiegers took the
opportunity of pouring in their shot at the periods at
which the streets were most thronged, persons went to
mass at the stated hours ; while, among the more opu
lent, dinner and evening parties proceeded without
interruption. As another instance of the indifference
induced by familiarity with danger, it is mentioned
that even the boys in the streets, on the falling of a
shell, would throw themselves flat on the ground until
it had exploded, when they would run laughing to
examine the injury it had produced on the surround
ing buildings.
The late disturbances have dispersed the peaceful
inhabitants of monasteries and nunneries, to find a
safe asylum elsewhere ; but besides the Serra, there is
the convent of St. Benedict, which formerly contained
fifty nuns who had taken the veil, and was also a sort
of asylum for unprotected females, termed seculaires,
who, of course, might quit the establishment at plea
sure ; the number of these was about two hundred
and fifty.
There are two nunneries of St. Clara of the Fran-

58 CONVENT OF ST. FRANCIS.
ciscan order. There is also a Dominican convent in
Oporto, and at Villa Nova a nunnery of the same
order. The Franciscan convent, at the end of the Rua Nova,
which is one of our pictorial illustrations, was, accord
ing to Kinsey, built by charitable contributions for
mendicant friars, who, as their designation imports,
are very poor. This convent, as well as the street in
which it stands, has suffered severely during the late
troubles, and an attempt has been made to restore the
street, after a plan which will include the desirable
improvement of a sewer. Mr. Kinsey alludes to a
dwarfish figure of St. Francis in the church attached
to the convent, which, he says, is greatly honoured by
the religious ofthe fair sex, who are wont to wash the
hands of the sacred effigy, in a basin, with soap and
a towel ; after which they either drink the water, or
bottle it up as a holy relic.
The church, called that of Nossa Senhora da Lassa,
has the distinction of being the depositary of the heart
of Don Pedro, who has so recently figured in the civil
wars of Portugal, and who, it is stated on the monu
ment erected to his honour, thus " gives his heart to
the good citizens of Oporto."
During our short sojourn in Oporto, an instance of
the ruin to which the ecclesiastical establishments of
the country was hastening, fell under our own notice ;
some conventual property, the real value of which was
estimated at £40,000 sterling, having been sold for
£18,000. This, however, we should add, was done
in the teeth of a declaration of Saldanha, who was in

TOWER OF THE CLERGY.  CORDOARIA MARKET. 59
the vicinity of Oporto, in force, that he would annul
the contract.
The Torres dos Clerigos, or Tower of the Clergy,
is one of the most striking objects among the public
buildings of Oporto. The steeple, which is very lofty,
was once struck by lightning, to the great alarm of the
inhabitants of the city, who accordingly met for the
purpose of deliberating on the best means of guarding
against the recurrence of such a catastrophe. Two
plans, each warmly supported, were proposed; the
one being to fix a conductor to the steeple, and the
other to put up a lamp, to be lit every night to Saint
Barbara, the patroness of the church. The latter
proposition was finally adopted, as the most effectual
protection against the effects of future storms.
It is in the vicinity of this church that the market
called the Cordoaria, is held. It is well supplied
with fish, fruits, and vegetables, the venders of which
are all women. It is curious to observe them, when
business is dull, running every now and then from
their merchandise to the church to breathe a prayer,
and then hurrying back to business; while others,
unwilling to lose the chance of a customer, content
themselves by telling their beads at their stations in
the market-place.
Of the fruits which are purchased in Oporto, and
indeed wherever we travelled in Portugal, it may be re
marked that the peaches are large, but greatly inferior
in flavour to the produce of our English walls, and
the pears are good for nothing; but the melons are
every where fine and cheap, as are the grapes, which,

60 TERRIBLE SCENE ON THE BRIDGE.
of the small black cluster kind, are most delicious,
and have often proved a grateful addition to our
breakfast fare. The apples and plums are very in
ferior in flavour to ours. Bread is very fair in
quality, and reasonable in price. The beef at Oporto
is also not to be complained of, but the mutton is
small and inferior. In the provinces, what was served
up to us under the name of mutton, we believe to
have been kid's flesh ; and upon one occasion, on which
our trusty attendant produced, as a great rarity, a
" beef cutlet;" — we think it was at Leiria, — it suffered
greatly in comparison with the good English beef
steak, of which, alas ! but the memory remained to us.
While on the subject of provisions, we may add
that the wine of the provinces, and indeed that
drunk by the lower classes generally, is execrable ; it
is what is termed green wine, and somewhat resembles
our small beer.
Of all the conflicts of which Oporto has unhappily
been the theatre, none have been marked by greater
horrors than those attendant on the storming of that
city in March 1809. Napier, in allusion to the terri
ble scene on the bridge, says, with his usual vigour of
language, that the calamities of an age were com
pressed into one doleful hour. The Portuguese ca
valry, panic stricken, rushed headlong into a mass of
four thousand of the citizens, — men, women, and chil
dren, who were assembled on, and in the vicinity of
the bridge. Many of them were trampled to death by
the horses, and so large a portion of them driven into
the river, that the heaped up bodies of the drowned

TIM 19'°!* OIF MIE (MEHL<S"K''

HUMANITY OF FRENCH OFFICERS. 61
absolutely rose above the surface of the water. To
the honour of French humanity be it recorded, that,
forgetting all but the miserable spectacle before them,
they made the most heroic exertions to save those
who were drowning.
The horrors of this scene were however equalled
by the terrible one that followed, when the French
soldiers, exasperated at beholding several of their
slaughtered comrades stuck upright against the walls
barbarously mutilated by the Portuguese, gave reins
to their fury, and committed every description of
outrage without pity or remorse. And here it is our
agreeable duty to do honour to the humanity of one
of our most distinguished opponents in the Penin
sular war; a general who has recently received from
the people of England that tribute which none know
better how to pay to gallantry, even in an enemy.
Marshal Soult made every effort in his power to stop
the slaughter, and, it is added, that several of his
officers, at the risk of their lives, interposed between
the infuriated soldiers and the objects of their ven
geance; and that thus many were saved who would
othewise have fallen a victim to the madness of the
hour. It is stated that, including those slain in fair
fight, the drowned, and the number who fell in the
sack of the city, the Portuguese lost ten thousand
persons. It will be seen that much of the misery of that fatal
day resulted from the want of firmDess on the part of
the Portuguese troops, of whose military qualities
many and very opposite opinions have been expressed.

62 PORTUGUESE SOLDIERS  VILLA NOVA.
Of course, it is not for a civilian to hazard an opinion
on the subject; but the history of Portugal abounds
in instances in which her soldiers, when gallantly led,
have performed miracles of valour against a vastly
superior force. The battle of Aljubarrota is a case
in point.
The Duke de Chatelet, speaking of the Portuguese
" soldiers, says, that they are patient under difficulties
and hardships, and are distinguished for sobriety
above the troops of every other nation, excepting the
Spaniards. He adds, that there are no men better
adapted to the fatigues of warfare. On the other
hand, he stigmatizes them as lazy, dirty, and insubor
dinate; vices, for such they are, which would speedily
disappear under the discipline of able commanders, an
advantage which they seem rarely to have enjoyed
until they were officered by the British, when they
often distinguished themselves by their courage and
conduct. Villa Nova is on the opposite side of the Douro to
that on which the city of Oporto is built, and is
celebrated for its immense wine-stores. It was during
the late civil war, when Saldanha was in command of
the queen's army in Oporto, and Count d'Almar at the
head of the Miguelite forces at Villa Nova, that the
latter, in contemplation of a retreat, intimated to the
former that he was ready to enter into negotiations
" for securing to the victors in the conflict the value
of the large property in wines belonging to the Douro
Wine Company." A conference accordingly took
place, but the terms proposed by the Miguelite nego-

DESTRUCTION OF WINE STORES. 63
tiator not being agreed to by the opposite party,
Count d'Almar, having previously mined the wine-
stores, fired the train, and thus caused the destruction
of, it is said, 1 3,000 pipes of wine. The author of
"The Civil War in Portugal," who gives the story
at length, with some strong animadversions on the
wanton cruelty of an act which caused ruin to many,
adds, that " the hissing streams of wine were like
rivulets pouring out of the smoking ruins into the
, Douro, whose waters were tinged to a deep red, when
Captain Glascock, of his Majesty's navy, alarmed for
the safety of British property, summoned every ship's
crew and landed at Villa Nova, to check the progress
of the flames where they might endanger it. The
Count d'Almar, infuriated at the sight of a few armed
British Marines, who were merely acting passively as
a guard; or more probably vexed to see the activity of
the warm-hearted British sailors, as they boldly strove
to save the national property, proudly demanded why
Captain Glascock appeared there with an armed force ?
Words grew loud, but the count was over matched ;
Captain Glascock was too cool, too determined on
the just object he had in view, to be moved in the
execution of his duty; and in spite of the violent
gesticulations and muttered threats of the commander
of thousands, with his little handful of willing fellows
he most assuredly saved British property to an im
mense amount."
There is a curious passage in Murphy's Manuscript
Journal relative to the wine-stores. " The wine-
lodges are very extensive, and well built. The pipes

64 WASTE OF WINE.
are never placed more than two in height. One of
Mr. Warre's lodges I visited, measured 141 feet by
90. We may conceive some idea of the trade of this
house* from the deficiency of last year's waste, which
was ninety pipes. The year before, I think, they
reckoned seventy pipes. Every other house has a
proportional waste, according to the extent of their
trade. This appears very suspicious to me, as the
Portuguese, who work in the stores, are the most ab
stemious creatures living, and there are clerks who
take an account of the smallest quantity brought in
or taken out:" whence Murphy draws the inference,
that either the hospitality, or the trade, of the mer
chants must be boundless.
* There is in London a very eminent house of this name, and,
we believe, in the Oporto trade.

65

CHAPTER III.
OPORTO.
Manners and Customs — Labouring Classes — Anecdotes of Ser
vants — Funerals — Marriages — Anecdote of a French Bride
groom — Baptism — Military Burial — Court-martial on a Dog —
Portuguese Ladies — Ancient Chivalry of Oporto — Anecdotes
of the Wars with the Moors — The Freixo — Story of a Fisher
man — Emigrants — The Merchant's Tale — Preparations for
Departure.
There is that in Oporto which will not be found in
any other part of Portugal, at least as far as our
researches have extended ; namely, an appearance of
business and activity, attributable, as we have reason
to believe, to the example of the British residents,
more numerous here than in other cities of the king
dom. The dress of om- country is copied both by
males and females ; with more success, it must be ac
knowledged, by the former than the latter, whose huge
bonnets by no means tend to the improvement of their
appearance. Labour, in Oporto, involves the paradox of being
both cheap and dear. The wages of a mason are but
ten-pence a-day ; but the workmen are so inconceiv
ably slow in the execution of their task, that in the end
the expense of building is very great.

66 REFRACTORY GARDEN1SR.
The prejudices of the lower order of Portuguese on
the subject of labour, are somewhat singular. An in
stance of this was mentioned to us by a British mer
chant, to whom we were indebted for many hospitable
attentions while in Oporto. It happened that it was
necessary for him to introduce a large quantity of ma
nure into his garden ; and for the more easy accom
plishment of this, he obtained a wheelbarrow, which
is a rare implement in Oporto. The gardener, a
native, objected strongly to the use of this mode of
conveyance ; it was in vain that the merchant set him
an example, by wheeling a load into the garden. The
horticulturist urged, that his father had never done
any thing of the kind, — that it was labour befitting
rather a horse than a man, and that he would not
" make a beast of himself." The merchant was called
away for a short time, and on his return he found that
the gardener had procured the aid of another person,
and the two were transporting the manure in a large
basket, which required their united strength to con
vey. The merchant, finding that remonstrance was
vain, adopted the only alternative, and dismissed the
obstinate functionary, to whose place he preferred a
man of colour, and had great reason to be satis
fied with the change, for the black proved to be
a most industrious, faithful, and respectful servant,
and withal quite competent to the duties of his
situation. It is not uncommon, in some of the provinces, to
find women who have not a shoe to their feet, orna
mented by necklaces of gold, some of them of great

te

MAID SERVANTS WITH GOLD CHAINS. 67
value. Mrs.  , the lady of a merchant of Oporto,
related to us an odd anecdote of a servant, whom she
had obtained from the county. The girl entered upon
her vocation with every appearance of being quite
competent to its duties, as indeed she proved to be ;
but, to the great annoyance of the English prejudices
of her mistress, she wore no shoes. The lady men
tioned the circumstance to the girl as unusual in Eng
lish families ; but was answered by the domestic that
she wore stockings, which was more than servants in
the country did, and that she deemed that a sufficient
concession to the fastidiousness of a foreigner.
The lady perceiving that, independently of the want
of shoes, the domestic's wardrobe was deficient in
what her mistress judged to be very essential ar
ticles of dress, and conceiving that want of funds
on the part of her new servant was the cause of their
not being procured, kindly volunteered an advance
on account of wages. The offer was, however, re
ceived with some marks of indignation by the domes
tic, who opened her box and displayed a wealth of
jewellery, in the shape of gold necklaces, which quite
astonished her mistress, and which was adduced as
irrefragable proof, that if she was not provided with
the articles that were deemed necessary to her equip
ment, it was not for want of the means of purchas
ing them.
Referring again to the notions of the Portuguese, as
to the species of labour which is held to be derogatory
to their dignity, it should be stated that, in addition
to their repugnance to the use of the wheelbarrow,
f2

68 A BEGGAR STANDING UP FOR HIS RIGHTS.
they have an aversion to carrying any burden upon
their backs.
We have read somewhere of a beggar, who swept a
crossing, and to whom a gentleman, from some cause
or other not named in the " record," discontinued his
accustomed diurnal penny, threatening his former be
nefactor with an action for the arrears of his allowance.
A friend of ours in Oporto related to us an anecdote
of a similar character, and scarcely exceeded, as an
instance of effrontery, by that which we have just
quoted. A man who plied on the Douro, and who,
from some circumstance or other, had enlisted the sym
pathy of the British merchants, was by their liberality
furnished with a new boat; and one of them, the gen
tleman from whom we had the story, allowed him a
stipend equal to a shilling a-week, — no small sum in
Portugal. The man misbehaved himself, and the
merchant " stopped his grog," that is, discontinued
the allowance; upon which he was sharply taken to
task by the object of his former bounty, who insisted
upon his right to the weekly shilling.
The following account cf the solemnities practised
on the occasion of a funeral at Oporto, is extracted
from Mr. Kinsey's valuable, interesting, and graceful
work. " It is the custom of the country for all the mem
bers of a family to attend the last moments of a
dying relation ; and when a female dies, that her fe
male relatives should dress the body for the grave.
The defunct, in this case, had been conveyed to the
chapel, on the evening previous to the performance of

FUNERAL S0LKMN1TIKS. 69
his obsequies, attired in the dress of the brotherhood,
in an open coffin, the folding covers being let down,
and the head and feet remaining exposed to view.
The trestle on which the body rested was covered with
a drapery of black velvet ornamented with gold, and
was placed at the upper end of the nave, immediately
at the base of the steps leading up to the choir and
the elevated high altar, which was illuminated by
countless tapers, and above it appeared a sculptured
representation of the Saviour in his glory, surrounded
by the angelic host. The lofty arch which separated
the nave from the choir, was hung with a curtain of
black cloth upon either si'e, which approached so
closely as to leave but a mysteriously imperfect view
of the blazing altar. The two pulpits were likewise
covered in the same way; while the four side altars
were mournfully decorated with black velvet, on which
were worked, in gold, the emblems of mortality, and
upon each blazed six wax tapers. The monks and
attendant choristers were arranged on either side of
the body, holding consecrated candles. The body
had the appearance of an effigy in marble ; but this
momentary illusion was instantly gone, as the effect
of the climate was perceived, and a myriad of flies
were observed collected about the mouth and nostrils.
A vessel filled with holy water was placed at the foot
of the bier, which the priests and relatives of the de
ceased sprinkled, from time to time, on the body, — a
rite participated in by the poor and ragged boys who
intruded themselves among the mourners, at the rails
of the choir. In addition to the different members of

70 HIRED MOURNERS.
the family, the Governador das Armas, with his staff,
the judges, and magistrates, and principal public offi
cers, with numerous friends, joined the funeral cere
mony. The deep bass voices of the monks in the de
profundis, and the occasional strokes of the heavy
bell of a neighbouring convent, heard at intervals
during the mournful service, had a profoundly im
pressive effect. The mass was then performed for the
dead at the high altar, and afterwards the corpse was
followed by the relatives down into the vaults below
the church; where, vinegar and quick lime having
been poured upon the body, the falling lids of the
coffin were closed and locked, and the key delivered
to the chief mourner; who, according to invariable
custom, proceeded immediately from the funeral, with
his party of friends who had witnessed the interment
take place, to the house of the defunct, where, the key
being left with the nearest relative, and the compli
mentary visit being paid, the rite was considered as
terminated." It was once the custom in Portugal, at funerals, to
hire women to mourn over the body of the departed,
whose virtues they were wont to celebrate in extem
porary verses. Murphy informs us that white was
worn as the garb of mourning until the time of King
Emanuel, at the death of whose aunt, Philippa, black
was adopted for the first time in Portugal as the sym
bol of sorrow for the dead.
The transition from a funeral to marriage and bap
tism may be abrupt, but it is natural; for of what
is life made up but of births, marriages and deaths ?

MARRIAGE CEREMONY. 71
In some instances at least, which came under our
notice, courtship in Portugal is characterized by the
barbarism which is exhibited in this particular in
some of the most uncivilized countries at the present
day. The lady's affections are not sought, or even
sounded, but through her parents ; and it is probable
that the young people have little or none of each other's
society before they go to church. The preliminaries
with " papa and mamma" having been settled, the
swain ventures to present the object of his choice with
a flower, — generally a carnation, always supposing
it to be in season, — which, if the damsel accepts,
the lover counts himself a happy man.
The marriage ceremony is very simple ; but, instead
of virgin white, the livery ofthe bride and bridemaids
is black. The service is usually read at the door of
the church, and the blessing given at the altar. The
mystic ring is, we believe, not used in the ceremony,
which concludes by the priest tying the two ends of
his surplice over the united hands of the bride and
bridegroom, and the two are " one flesh." The knot
having been tied, the " happy pair," instead of, as
in England, hiding their blushes in some Portuguese
Hastings, Brighton, or Broadstairs, return to the
home of the bridegroom, and the evening is spent in
the banquet and the dance.
While on the subject of marriages, we will venture
to travel out of the " record," as the lawyers have it,
by relating a circumstance which is stated to us, on
good authority, to have happened in England on the
marriage of a French gentleman with an English lady.

72 ANECDOTE OF A FRENCH BRIDEGROOM.
On the eve of the ceremony, the bridegroom consulted
some of his English friends as to the customs observed
on the occasion in this country ; and was told, that it
was usual to take the lady out of town on the morning
on which the celebration of the wedding took place.
Now it happened that the lady was possessed of an
income adequate to their support in something like,
affluence; while the Frenchman, — wo the while ! though
it be no detraction from his respectability, had only
a ten-pound note which he could call his own. Ten
pounds, it is well known, will not carry a man far in a
post-chaise in England, whatever it may do in France :
our Gallic friend was aware of the fact, but never
theless determined to conform to the custom of the
country, and accordingly took his lady out of town,
and spent the first week of the honeymoon at the
" Elephant and Castle," in the purlieus of that resort
of the fashionable yclept Southwark.
The ceremony of baptism, as observed in Portugal,
I cannot better describe, than by quoting the words
of an intelligent and gallant officer, Captain Alexander
author of " Travels in the East," as well as ofthe in
teresting work from which the following is an extract.
" One day I saw a baptism at a country church ;
there were the priest, the father and child, the nurse,
godmother, and the compadre or godfather, the sa
cristan, and two men with long lighted candles. Ser
vice was commenced at the door of the church ; the
parties then moved up to the altar ; salt and oil were
applied to the child ; the font was approached and
water sprinkled : the ceremony ended by the godfa-

COURT MARTIAL ON A DOG. 73
ther, godmother, and child holding one candle, and
the priest wishing happiness to all. There could not
be a happier man than the father, for it was his first
child, and the crow had set its foot on his cheek, and
the snows of age were on his brow."
The same gallant author also mentions, in his
" Sketches of Portugal," an anecdote of a burial,
marked by less ceremony than that which we have
described as attendant on a funeral in more peaceful
times. We will not spoil the story by paraphrase.
" One day, during the siege, a major of the Miguelites
and two soldiers advanced very gallantly before the
rest, in an attempt to storm the Scotch post ; but they
were shot dead, and their bodies, and some others,
lay so near the lines, that they soon became very
offensive. Some of the Scotch went to their colonel,
(Shaw,) and asked leave to bury them ; but he was, at
first, unwilling to grant it, as the Miguelites were so
inveterate in their opposition as to fire on unarmed
burying parties, and they might be shot. ' Weel, sir,'
said the men, ' let us at ony rate tiy to bury the brave
little bodie of a major, and the twa lads that lie
nearest us ; they showed themselves to be gude sod-
gers.' He granted the request, and they accomplished
their object. Some time afterwards, the colonel, on
looking from the window of his quarters, saw some
of his men seated in a circle on the grass, and a fa
vourite dog of theirs tied to a bayonet in the midst of
them ; after a little time, a corporal and three men
' fell out' and loaded their muskets. He then thought
it time to send down to know what was the matter.

74 WOMEN OF PORTUGAL.
' Oh, sir! we've just been trying the dog by court-
martial, and have condemned him, — the ill-faured
beast, — for bringing in the major's hand in his mouth
this morning.' " The quotation appended to the
anecdote is apt : —
" But when all is past, it is humbling to tread
O'er the weltering field of the tombless dead,
And see worms of the earth, and fowls of the air,
Beasts of the forests all gathering there ;
All regarding man as their prey, —
All rejoicing in his decay."
Of the women of Portugal, the opinions of travellers
vary greatly. Our opportunities of an insight into
the domestic manners of the natives were few ; but
the impression left upon our minds of the females is
favourable. From the families in which we sojourned
during our excursion, we experienced nothing but
kindness, the most respectful attention, and nothing
to justify the aspersions which have been so liberally —
or rather illiberally — cast upon them by some writers,
particularly by the Duke de Chatelet, whose vanity
rather, we are inclined to think, than his experience,
appears to have persuaded him that he was perfectly
irresistible ; but your libertine is ever a slanderer of
the sex. Murphy gives a more amiable, and we will
believe a truer picture of the female character in Por
tugal ; though both agree in ascribing to the ladies a
fair share of personal attractions, to which fact we
willingly add our testimony.
Of course, the style of beauty is different to that of
our females, and therefore less attractive to an English

CODE OF BEAUTY. 75
eye. " Most nations," justly observes Murphy, " en
tertain some peculiar idea of beauty ;" and he goes on
to quote a Portuguese description of a perfect beauty,
enumerating, among other charms, green eyes ; in
praise of which a native, named Villa-Real, wrote a
treatise. " To be properly adjusted to the rest of the
face," says this code of beauty, " the nose should de
scend in a direct line from the forehead, and form a
regular pyramid." The lips, we are told, " should be
rather full than thin, rather relieved than sunk, and
the edge of a pure carnation." The teeth " should re
semble a row of pearls, set in an arch of ruby." The
cheeks should be of a " pure carmine colour, fading
insensibly into a lily white."
The Duke de Chatelet gives, or quotes, for it is
somewhat dubiously put, an account of the manner
in which lovers in Portugal evade the vigilance of
duennas. The story is not very creditable to their
piety, but we fear that, in all religions, there will be
found some who make a cloak of it for unworthy pur
poses. " Their (the ladies) lovers," we are told, " are
seldom gratified with a sight of them, except in the
churches. Here they may sigh and signal, —
1 Address and compliment by vision,
Make love, and court by intuition.'
Notwithstanding the watchful eye of the duenna, the
lovers contrive to exchange a billet-doux, and that in
so subtle a manner, that none can perceive it whose
breast glows not with a similar flame. The little
boys who attend at the altar are often the messengers
on these occasions. When one of these wingless

76 UNGALLANT KNIGHTS.
Cupids receives the letter, he makes his way through
the audience till he approaches the fair one ; then he
throws himself on his knees, repeating his Ave Marias
and beating his breast. After finishing his ejacula
tions, and crossing his forehead, he falls on his face
and hands, and fervently kisses the ground. In the
mean time he conveys the letter under the ladys dra
pery, and brings back another. At other times, when
the lovers are coming out of the church, their hands
meet, as it were by chance, in the holy water font : by
this means they exchange billets, and enjoy the delec
table pleasure of pressing each other's fingers."
Portugal, in days of yore, was not without its share
of gallant knights, who " pricked forth," ready to do
battle, for any cause or for no cause, with all who
were willing to shiver a lance, either for love or glory.
Oporto is particularly mentioned as having furnished
her quota of knights-errant; for we find, in the his
tory of the reign of John I., the chivalry of Portugal
exhibited somewhat to the disparagement of certain
knights of England.
The story is a remarkable one, and not destitute of
interest : the substance of it is as follows. Twelve
English barons, not distinguished probably for their
personal attractions and success in winning a lady's
love, proclaimed, doubtless in a fit of spleen and dis
appointment, that certain dames of the court of their
monarch, Henry IV., were not entitled, by either
birth, charms, or accomplishments, to the estimation
in which they were held ; and that they were ready to
do battle with any equal number of champions who

PORTUGUESE CHIVALRY. 77
had the audacity to impugn their opinion on the sub
ject. We have heard, — as indeed who has not? — of
gallant knights proclaiming the charms, virtues, and
other excellent qualities of ladies, and their entire
readiness, at any time and place, to cut the throats of
the cavaliers who dared to breathe aught to the dis
paragement of the dames in question ; but we hope,
for the honour of chivalry, that the instance to which
we have referred of the converse of such a challenge,
is without parallel in history.
That England should have owned twelve such un-
gallant cavaliers is matter at once of regret and sur
prise ; but that she did not possess twelve other
knights whose swords would fly from their scabbards
at such a challenge, is scarcely credible. Yet so
it was, and the damsels were without a man to stand
up for them, until the news of the challenge reached
Portugal ; when Alvares Gonsalves Coutinho, sur
named Magrico, and eleven other knights, instantly
accepted it. Oporto had the honour of furnishing
this gallant band, who, with the sanction of their
sovereign, sailed from that city for Britain. Among
their numbers was Alvaro Vaz de Almada, whose
prowess subsequently procured him the order of the
Garter in England, and the title of Count d'Avran-
ches in Normandy. Henry IV. received them with
a courtesy befitting their errand, and entertained them
at a splendid banquet. He also named the arms to
be used by the combatants, as well as the time and
place of the encounter. The spot chosen was on the
southern bank of the river Thames, where, in an im-

78 TOURNAMENT.
mense amphitheatre, was assembled a multitude of
spectators, the king and his court being among them.
The entrance of the Portuguese knights was greeted
by acclamations of applause, particularly from the la
dies, who doubtless made common cause against the
discourteous knights of their own country. At a sig
nal from the English monarch, the encounter began
with the usual flourish of trumpets, each combatant
being armed with a lance and a sword. The result
was for some time doubtful, much valour being dis
played on both sides ; but at length the Portuguese,
who had great skill in the .use of the lance, and hav
ing moreover the encouragement of the bright eyes
which were looking on the contest, gained the advan
tage ; and having wounded some of their antagonists,
and unhorsed others, were declared conquerors by
the king.
The triumph of the ladies was complete, and they
made the most of it. They immediately crowded
round their victorious champions, crowned them with
chaplets of roses, and on their departure for their na
tive land, they presented them with swords, spears,
and shields, richly ornamented. Nor was their recep
tion by their own countrywomen less flattering. The
service rendered to the dames of England was felt to
be, as in truth it was, a compliment to the sex at
large, and they were overwhelmed, says the chronicle,
by caresses.
Magrico, the leader of the Portuguese knights in
this enterprise, so honourable to their gallantry and
valour, distinguished himself in the cause of Isabella

A GENEROUS LOVUR.

79

of Portugal, Countess of Flanders ; who, having a
quarrel with Charles VII. of France, appealed to de
cision of arms, according to the custom of the period,
and named Magrico as her champion. Her defender's
usual good fortune attended him. He slew the cham
pion nominated by the French monarch, and bore
away as a trophy a gold collar, which his vanquished
antagonist, named De Lansay, or De Lancy, wore as a
guard to his neck.
We find another individual of the name, — whether
of the same family we know not, — the fame of whose
gallantry and generosity has survived him: — Don
John de Coutinho, when general of the Portuguese
army in Africa, had taken, among other prisoners
of distinction, an aged Moor of one of the first fami
lies of his nation. The African had an only daughter,
whose grief at the captivity of her parent was so great,
that she left no means untried to procure his deliver
ance. At length she proposed to a young Moor, who
had solicited her in marriage, that she would give him
her hand if he could achieve the liberation of her fa
ther ; assuring him that, until that was accomplished,
she would remain single. The gallant youth instantly
mounted his horse, and with a nobleness of mind
which proved him to be above all selfish considera
tions, presented himself to Coutinho, and falling on
his knees before the general, implored him, with an
eloquence inspired by the intensity of his feelings, to
receive him as a prisoner in lieu of the aged Moor.
" It is true," said the generous supplicant, " the
prisoner is descended of a noble family ; but mine is

80 THE FAIR CAPTIVE.
not inferior to his. Moreover, I am rich and he is
poor; I am young and he is old; I shall probably
be a lasting security in your hands, whereas, accord
ing to the course of nature, you cannot long detain
him from his kindred dust. Noble general, we are well
assured of your valour : convince the world that you
are merciful as well as brave, by restoring this vene
rable old man to his disconsolate daughter, at whose
request I came hither to purchase his liberty at the
expense of my own."
Coutinho, seeing at once the value and the noble
ness of the sacrifice thus proposed to be made, testified
his admiration of his enemy's generosity by vying
with it ; and accordingly ordered the unconditional
release of the aged Moor, whom he delivered to the
youth, and moreover sent a troop of horse to escort
them to their home, in a manner befitting alike their
virtue and their quality.
We cannot refrain from giving another of the many
romantic episodes in the history of the struggle be
tween the Moors and the Portuguese. We are indebted
for the anecdote, as well as for the last quoted, to the
industrious Murphy.
It was in the year 1516 that Ataide, general of the
Portuguese force in Africa, marching by night with
a body of 4500 cavalry, surprised a Moorish encamp
ment, which they plundered, and became masters of a
very considerable booty. Among the prisoners made
on this occasion was a woman of surpassing beauty,
the wife of the Moorish general Raho Ben Xamut,
who loved her with all the ardour which her graces

AN INTERVIEW.

and virtues were calculated to inspire. His defeat
and the plunder of his camp were light sorrows com
pared with the loss of his wife, whom he determined
to recover, or to sacrifice his life in the attempt. Ac
cordingly, having rallied his discomfited troops, he
pursued the Portuguese, and overtook them on the fol
lowing day at noon. It was at this juncture, on the
eve of the contest, that the lovely captive, whose name
was Hota, craved of the Christian general permission
to speak to her husband. This having been granted,
she was escorted to the van of the Portuguese army,
when she thus addressed her lord :
" 0 Raho ! how often have you declared you would
rather die than see me in the hands of your enemy ?
and now that Fortune has brought me to this igno
minious state, you seem unconcerned. Have you for
gotten your solemn vows ? Has your courage forsaken
you? Where now is your wonted valour ? Ah! you
cannot love me, and thus behold the sworn enemies
of our religion triumphantly dragging me into cap
tivity." The husband replied, " Raho does not forget his
vows, nor has he lost his courage. Do not despair ;
the day is not yet ended : there is strength in my
right hand, and victory is still at the disposal of the
Supreme Being."
Having said these words, he took off his shoe, and
flung it towards her as a pledge of his love.
The lady having been removed from the van to
the rear of the Portuguese army, the Moorish general
turned towards his own men, and harangued them in

82 RESCUE OF THE CAPTIVE.
the following strain: " If ever," said he, "you felt
the pangs of love ; if Nature ever inspired you with
compassion for the sufferings of beauty and innocence,
have pity on the unfortunate Hota, and preserve my
life and my honour by rescuing her out of the hands
of these Christian tyrants. Brother soldiers ! this day
will immortalize your names. Remember, you have
sworn by the law of our high prophet, either to die or
to liberate the fair captive."
The address produced the intended effect on the
spirit of the Moors, who immediately charged the
Portuguese with great fury, and the battle became
desperate. Raho, in the outset of the assault, encoun
tered the rival general, Ataide, whom he slew with a
javelin. The Portuguese, thrown into disorder and
disheartened by the fall of their leader, gave ground,
and finally fled in every direction, abandoning their
camp to the enemy ; and thus was Hota restored to
the arms of her husband.
The sequel of the story is a melancholy one. Raho
had scarcely conducted his wife in triumph to his
home, when he was again called into the field, in
which he perished. Hota, distracted at the loss of
her husband, and unsupported by those consolations
which the Christian is taught to seek in the time of
his tribulation, refused to take food ; and, at the end
of nine days, died of exhaustion ; her last request being
that she might be buried in the grave of her husband.
One evening we were strolling along the bank of
the Douro, when our attention was attracted by a ves
sel, apparently a merchantman, towed by a steamer,

EMIGRANTS. 83
wid proceeding down the river. There was nothing-
particular in the object itself, but for the number of
people who, crowding the banks, kept abreast of the
ship during her progress. On inquiry, we ascer
tained that the vessel was laden with emigrants bound
for the Brazils, and the persons on the shore, — of
all ages and both sexes, — were the friends of the
voyagers. It was an interesting yet melancholy sight to wit
ness the tearful group, and to see the brightening up
of their faces as the nature of the channel, or some
promontory on the land, brought them and the emi
grants nearer together. What might be the feelings
of those who were about to quit, perhaps for ever, the
land of their birth, — the glorious land of the vine and
the olive, the orange and the pomegranate, — it was
not difficult to imagine ; although their distance from
the shore rendered it impossible to trace the effects of
their emotions on their countenances. Not so, how
ever, on shore. There might be seen the tear of an
guish trickling down the cheek — channelled by age —
of the parent, looking the last upon the child of his
hopes ; and there too was the sister, waving her hand
kerchief, wet with tears, in token of final adieu to the
companion of her childhood, — her kind protector and
her truest friend. We were not, however, philoso
phers enough to moralize upon so heart-rending a
scene, from which we were glad to escape, and long
ere the vessel had reached the bar, we were on our
way back to the city.
On the day after our stroll by the Douro, we were
g2

84 THE MERCHANT'S STORY.
engaged to dine with a merchant, to whom, while we
were over our wine, we related the scene which we
had witnessed on the evening before. The merchant
observed, that our recital reminded him of a circum
stance which had occurred during his residence in
Oporto, and which we will endeavour, as far as our
memory will serve, to relate in his own words.
®fic JtterrJ&ant's gbtotij.
It is now some dozen years ago, that a vessel, of
which I had the greater share and the entire manage
ment, being what is termed the " ship's husband,"
was fitted out from this port, and destined for the
Brazils; and, independently of a valuable cargo, she
carried out with her a considerable number of passen
gers, many of them being emigrants to that portion
of the new world. It was on the eve of the day
appointed for her departure, that I was sitting alone
in the very room in which we now are, when my
servant announced the arrival of a stranger, who,
with many apologies for his intrusion at an hour not
usually devoted to matters of business, solicited an
interview. Not guessing, and perhaps as little caring
what might be the purport of his errand, I desired
that he might be admitted ; and, in a few minutes
afterwards, there entered a young man, a Portuguese,
who, although evidently not belonging to the higher
ranks of society, exhibited no ordinary grace of man
ner; while in person he was tall, well-proportioned,
and, altogether, such a specimen of humanity, as one
does not often meet with in this part of the world.

THE WKRCHAXTS STORY. >J
His errand, it soon appeared, was to secure a nas-
sage in the vessel which I had fine,! out for th«?
Brazils. I could not deny that there « as a berth for
him in the ship, although I could have wished that it
had beea otherwise : since, generally speaking, what
ever may be the arguments adduced in favour ot* emi
gration, there must be something wrong, either in the
man or in the government under which he h\ es. when
a young and able-bodied person quits, for the sake
of seeking subsistence in a foreign country, a land,
which, in point of space and productiveness, were
the latter called forth, is sufficient for the support of
her sons.
I was, moreover, greatly interested by the manners
and appearance of my visitor; and, inviting him to
partake of the dessert which was before me. I ventured
to inquire the motive of his quitting the land of his
birth for one in which success, to say the best of it,
was problematical. Francisco told his story without
reserve, and with a simplicity which impressed it
with the stamp of truth.
He informed me, that he had been brought up from
childhood in a little village within a short distance of
Oporto, upon a small patrimonial property, which, at
the death of his parents, had devolved to him some
few years since. He had formed an attachment for a
young woman, the daughter of a neighbouring land
holder, who was an intimate friend of his father, and
in fact, a sort of family connexion. The girl had
been his companion and playfellow from childhood,
and their intercourse, so far from having been re-

86 THE merchant's story.
stricted, appeared to have been regarded with com
placency by the parents on either side ; nor was the
intimacy which subsisted between the families in any
way interrupted for some time after the death of the
young man's father. In the course of three years, how
ever, after this event, the death of a relative of the young
woman's father greatly augmented his worldly wealth ;
and, although this sudden accession of fortune occa
sioned no immediate interruption to the intercourse
of the young persons, it was not long before the old
man manifested his disapprobation of the connexion,
and, within the last few months, he plainly intimated
to my visitor, that he must not only relinquish all
pretensions to the hand of the girl, but at once and
for ever forego her society.
Francisco, in continuation, informed me that, al
though greatly shocked and hurt by this sudden
alteration in the sentiments and behaviour of his fa
ther's ancient friend, he was at no loss to account for
it. The spiritual adviser of the old man was the sub-
prior of a neighbouring convent, who, immediately
after the other's unexpected accession of wealth, had ex
erted all his influence to secure its reversion to the bro
therhood, among whom he held so distinguished a sta
tion. The result was, that the old man made a will, by
which he bequeathed the whole of his possessions to
the convent, with the exception of a small annuity to
any religious establishment, which, as a refuge from
destitution, his daughter might choose for her novi
ciate and final abode. It was to the remote view of
official aggrandizement on the part of the sub-prior,

THE MERCHANT'S STORY. 87
and not to any feelings of enmity towards himself,
that Francisco attributed the interference which had
led to his exclusion from the society of the damsel,
and finally to the extinction of his hopes.
True it was that my visitor had the strongest rea
sons for believing that her regard for himself remained
unaltered, and that her grief at their separation was
as intense as his own. Nevertheless, could he have
justified to himself an attempt to induce her to re
nounce the authority of her parent, and become his
bride in despite of him and the reverend friar, he was
too well assured of the inadequacy of his own worldly
means to betray her into the abandonment of the
abode of luxury, for the dwelling in which he found
it required the utmost of his exertions to keep the
wolf from the door.
It is very well, — nay, it sounds exceedingly romantic,
to talk of love in a cottage, and of the recklessness of
true and devoted affection for worldly wealth ; but a
disregard of consequences in such a case, can be
traced to no other feeling than selfishness, from which
my hero nobly proved himself to be free ; for finding
that he could not counteract the influence exerted upon
the mind of the old man, nor honourably make the
daughter his wife, he resolved to quit a country in
which he found life a burden — not, it may be, without
a hope of acquiring, in a distant land, that which
might enable him to return and claim his bride ; for
improbable as such a result might be considered, hope
is strong in the breast of youth, and the new world
had not then ceased to be regarded as an Eldorado.

88 THE MERCHANT S STORY.
Accordingly, consigning his little patrimony to the
custody of a trusty friend to be disposed of to the
best advantage, he made his arrangements for quit
ting Portugal, and hence his application to me for
a passage. Men of bales, and pipes, and puncheons, as are we
merchants, are not generally accused of much sym
pathy with love-sick boys and girls ; and my late
worthy partner was wont to say, that love was the
very worst possible account that could be raised in
a ledger, inasmuch as it was invariably closed by
writing off a heavy balance to the debt of Profit and
Loss. Despite, however, of my kind partner and
patron's approved maxim, I could not help deeply
commiserating the position of Francisco ; and al
though, seeing no means of aiding him in his diffi
culty, I could do no other than grant him the passage
he desired, I was much annoyed at finding myself,
however innocently, in a certain degree instrumental
in the expatriation of one, who, it appeared to me,
had exhibited no trifling share of self-denial and ele
vation of character.
It was late in the evening when we parted, and
wishing my new acquaintance a prosperous voyage, I
betook myself to bed; but so occupied were my
thoughts by the story I had listened to, that although
I cannot say I had no sleep, my slumbers were so
disturbed that I derived little refreshment from them,
and was, at an early hour in the morning, fervently
wishing that, from adverse winds or some other
obstacle, the vessel might still be detained in port,

THE MERCHANT'S STORY. 89
in order that I might put into execution a plan upon
which, as a sort of forlorn hope, I had resolved ; name
ly, a visit to the prior of the convent, the sub-prior
of which had thus been so fatally instrumental in
adding another evidence of the fact, that " the course
of true love never did run smooth."
Great, however, was my chagrin, — I ought not to
say my disappointment, for I could scarcely expect it
to be otherwise, — when, on reconnoitring the vessel
through my glass at day-break, I saw her not only
under weigh, but standing out to sea with the wind in
her poop. To make my intended visit to the prior
was, as regarded my new acquaintance, very like
shutting the stable door after the steed was stolen ;
nevertheless, I determined on the measure, and ac
cordingly mounted my mule, and proceeded to the
monastery. Now it happened that I knew much of the prior,
and a little of the sub-prior, having been in the habit
of visiting the former, at intervals, for some four or
five years previous to the period of which I speak.
The prior was not a man of very profound learning or
resplendent abilities, but he was, nevertheless, admi
rably fitted for the station he held. True it is, he
neither practised nor affected any of those austerities
which, in the eyes of many of his order, are of such
sovereign and saving efficacy, and was therefore re
garded by his severer brethren as somewhat lax in his
conventual discipline ; but he was unaffectedly as well
as unostentatiously pious, and, by consequence, strictly
moral in his life. He was straight-forward and

90 THE merchant's story.
simple-minded, and, by the light of that lamp which
shines to all who seek its illumination, he was en
abled, not only to discern the path of his duty, but to
tread in it with a firm and unhesitating step. That he
was, by nature, somewhat of a humourist cannot be
denied ; but then his humour was of that quiet playful
kind, — that summer lightning of the mind which
scathes not while it flashes, — that one might almost as
reasonably quarrel with a sun beam as with the cheer
ful sallies of the old man's wit. He had withal much
natural strength of character, and a liberal allow
ance of Nature's best endowment, — common sense.
The sub-prior, on the other hand, was a man of
brighter parts than his superior, but he was bigoted,
unprincipled, and ambitious. He was indebted for
the situation he held in the establishment to the in
fluence of the court of Rome, rather than to any merit
of his own, or the goodwill of his fellows. The
junior by many years of the prior, he looked confi
dently to the succession ; and, with that view, laboured
incessantly to augment the wealth of the convent,
over which he hoped, ere long, to rule.
On my arrival at the convent, I found my friend
the prior in his private apartment, to which he wel
comed me, heretic though I were, as an old friend,
and reproached me for having so long delayed to visit
him. I explained to him the immediate occasion of
my intrusion, and he listened to my brief recital with
evident uneasiness. When I had finished, he paused
for a few moments, and then replied, " I would not
judge harshly of any man, much less of an individual

THE MERCHANT'S STORY. 91
of this community, and one so intimately associated
with me in the administration of its affairs : and there
fore I am bound to believe, that the zeal of Brother
Bernardo hath outstripped his discretion ; and that he
hath yielded to the precept which enjoins us to " do
evil that good may come;" a precept, the adoption
of which hath given greater handle to the enemies of
our church, than all the vagaries of her wildest enthu
siasts. But, Heaven be my witness ! I will be no party
to this pious fraud. If I look with complacency upon
the broad lands which surround this monastery, it
is from the feeling that they not only provide for all
the legitimate wishes of its inmates, but administer
to the wants of the helpless poor, and the weary
wayfarer. But it is not lawful to steal bread even to
feed the hungry, and the wealth of a province would
be dearly purchased by an orphan's tears."
After a momentary pause, he added, " This matter
must be seen to, and that without delay. There are
those who measure a man's longevity by his neck ;
and if there be any truth in the theory, old Pedro's
lease is but a short one. As far as the poor youth
is concerned, we can do little; but the girl's inheri
tance may yet be secured to her. Meanwhile, for the
sake of the credit of our order, tell no man what has
occurred ; and if this matter come not to a better
issue than present circumstances seem to warrant, lay
not the fault at my door."
The prior, pleading the urgency of the occasion as
an apology for cutting short our conference, ordered his
mule ; and I, remounting my own, returned to Oporto.

92 thr merchant's story.
It was towards noon of the third day after the in
terview which I have described, that I received a
summons from my friend the prior to visit the convent
in the course of the evening; and, feeling convinced
that the invitation had reference to the subject which
had so much occupied my thoughts, I did not, as may
easily be imagined, hesitate to obey.
I found my venerable and excellent friend in a
somewhat spacious apartment, sitting at an oriel
window which commanded an extensive view of the
Douro ; and so intent was he upon the prospect, that I
was in the room for some seconds before he was aware
of my presence.
In reply to my anxious and somewhat hurried in
quiries as to the success of his mission, he informed
me that he had seen the old man and his daughter ;
and although he did not express himself to that effect
in so many words, it was very evident that the pros
pect of so fair a specimen of the sex as was the
maiden, being consigned to the living tomb of a mo
nastic establishment, was not without its effect upon
the kind-hearted prior. His mission, however, was
one of no ordinary delicacy, inasmuch as it was im
possible for him to enter upon it without inculpating,
if not the motives, at least the discretion of his subor
dinate ; but "to do right though the heavens should
fall," was the honest prior's maxim, and he acted up
to it with all the eloquence and energy of which he
was master. Whether it was that the father of the
young woman paid greater deference to the higher
rank of the prior, or that the latter's powers of persua-

THE MERCHANT'S STORY. 93
sion were superior to those of the sub-prior, it is not
for me to determine ; but certain it is that the inter
view resulted in the revocation of the will, and an
expression of the old man's repentance at having, by
the alteration of his conduct towards his daughter's
lover, driven him into banishment.
" A repentance," I rejoined, " which however it
may mitigate the offence, arrives too late to remedy
the evil."
" I am not so sure of that," replied the prior ; who
proceeded to inform me, that immediately on hav
ing prevailed on Pedro to revoke his unjust will,
and to express his regret at having destroyed the hap
piness of his daughter, he had communicated with the
authorities at Oporto, with whom, from his family con
nexions, he had considerable influence, and at whose
request, officially conveyed, the captain of a British
man-of-war had detached a tender in pursuit of the
transport in which Francisco had embarked, with
orders to bring him back to Oporto nolens volens,
for time did not admit of explanations. To overtake
a heavily built and deeply laden merchant-vessel was
no difficult task for the light craft sent in quest of her ;
and it was on the arrival of news that the pursuit had
been successful, that the prior had despatched a mes
senger to summon me to the monastery.
" And there, if I mistake not, comes the fugitive,"
exclaimed the prior, pointing to an object on the river,
which I instantly recognised as the boat of a man-of-
war. It was a six-oared cutter, impelled with a velo
city and regularity of motion which, I believe, none

94 THE MERCHANT'S STORY.
but British sailors are capable of imparting to a boat.
As the little bark approached nearer, I could per
ceive, by the aid of a glass, that she was steered by a
midshipman, whose cocked hat, as Curran said of his
wig, was his maxima pars; and that close beside
him was my late visitor, — the voluntary exile. The
boat touched the land immediately under the window ;
when, with the exception of a sailor left in charge of
it, the whole of her crew disembarked, and guard
ing their prisoner, for such in ignorance of the cir
cumstances they considered him, proceeded to the
monastery, and were ushered into the apartment in
which we were awaiting their arrival.
The midshipman, a youth of about seventeen, for
mally surrendered his charge to the prior, in con
formity to his orders, and was about to withdraw with
his men ; but the worthy ecclesiastic, who, being ad
vised of the visit, had provided for their reception,
would not hear of parting from them so early; and
accordingly, after consigning the boat's crew to the
care of the Cellararius, he invited their officer to a
repast prepared for him in the room in which we
were. The youngster, to the great delight of his hos
pitable host, did ample justice to fare with which
it was seldom his good fortune to meet, except on
those occasions— few and far between — on which he
was required to pipe-clay his weekly accounts* in
* Weekly accounts was the appellation for the two strips of
white kerseymere worn on the collar of a midshipman's coat
before the alteration in naval uniform, under which scarlet
usurped the place of white.

THE FREIXO. 95
order to a decent appearance as a guest at the cap
tain's table.
While our nautical friends were enjoying them
selves, — and the prior, be it recorded, had not for
gotten the solitary tar left in charge of the boat, — the
prior relieved the perplexity of Francisco, by ex
plaining to him the favourable change which had been
wrought in the sentiments of Pedro.
The old man did not long survive the union of his
daughter with the man of her choice. He died, as the
prior had apprehended he would do, with little warn
ing ; but, thanks to the worthy man's interference, with
the satisfaction of seeing his child happy.
The trite proverb — though not the less true for its
triteness — that "man proposes, but Heaven disposes,"
was never more strikingly verified than in the case of
the sub-prior, who lived not to succeed to the office
which had been the object of his ambition. He has
been dead these ten years, and the prior yet lives in
the possession of all his faculties; and though the frost
of age is on his brow, his heart is as warm as ever.

Among other lions to which the kindness of our
friends conducted us, was the Freixo, an ancient man
sion of a very remarkable style of architecture on the
right bank ofthe Douro, at the distance of about two
miles from Oporto. The great attraction of the place,
however, is the splendid view which it commands, and
which forms the subject of one of our embellishments.
In the distance are the Serra convent and its aqueduct
on one side of the river, and the Seminary on the other.

96 THE FISHERMAN OF THE DOURO.
Our attention was attracted by the sight of two
women, whose looks appeared to be directed towards
the river; and on noticing the circumstance to our
friend, he explained it by stating, that they were the
wives of fishermen watching for the return of their
husbands, whom it is their custom to relieve of the
charge of their boats the instant that they touch the
shore : thus, while the fishermen rest themselves after
the fatigues of their expedition, their better halves
attend to the disposal of their nets, etc.
Our friend related to us a story, connected with the
locality, which we will venture to quote, under the
title of fftfij jftsjwmau of tfie Uouro.
The name of our hero was Antonio : he went by
no other, but by that he was known on the banks of
the Douro ; there were many Antonios, but he was the
Antonio. He was somewhat better and more com
pactly put together, if we may use the expression,
than the generality of the Portuguese ; and although
he could not boast a much fairer complexion than
usually falls to the lot of his countrymen, it was
somewhat relieved by the dark hair which curled in
profusion about his swarthy brows. He had an eye
black as jet, but it was large and full, and, combined
with a high and broad forehead, gave an expression
of openness and honesty which at once created con
fidence. Regarded professionally, he had a quick eye, a ready
hand, and a stout heart, and was celebrated for the

,3 £

THE FISHERMAN OK THE DOURO. 97
skill and dexterity with which he managed his little
craft; insomuch that, even in the fastidious judg
ment of the English sailors who frequented the port,
he was rated a smart fellow; and was looked upon
with a covetous eye by many a lieutenant of his Bri
tannic Majesty's navy, who thought it a thousand
pities that the energies of so fine a fellow were not
displayed on the deck of a man-of-war, instead of in a
washing-tub of a fishing-boat.
That man is born to die, is a truth which none can
gainsay, and that he is also born to fall in love, is a
maxim next in infallibility ; thus Antonio fulfilled his
destiny, and was married. If ever man had excuse for
so rash a step, it was to be found in the mild eyes and
sweet smile of Teresa. Antonio was a man without
guile ; he had no craft but that by which he gained his
living, — to wit, his fishing-boat : he preferred his suit
to the damsel, and was made happy.
Matrimony is, after all, the grand test of charac
ter ; a man may glose his infirmities, or to speak in
plainer terms, his sins to the world ; but he can
not hide them long from his wife, and she will be very
happy or, whatever face her good sense may induce
her to put upon the matter, very miserable, accord
ing as she has drawn a prize or a blank in the great
lottery. Teresa's ticket came up a prize. Neither is
there any thing like matrimony for bringing out a
man's energies, be they those of the mind or the
hand ; the feeling that the support and the happi
ness, as far as that may be within human control, of
another are committed to his charge, will rouse into
H

98 THE FISHERMAN OF THE DOURO.
action powers which have hitherto been dormant, and
of which, it may be, he was unconscious ; and as he will
become a more useful, so will he be, if his mind be
rightly constituted, a better man for the exertion of
them. Thus was it with Antonio; and on occasions
when, before he incurred the responsibilities of a hus
band, his little bark would have been "high and dry "
upon the beach, it was breasting the billow at the
mouth of the Douro.
Weeks, months, a year passed away, and Antonio,
if he did not increase in riches, acquired an additional
title — that of parent, and he was the happiest fisherman
in the universe. It was about a month after this
acquisition that, on a remarkably unpromising day,
Antonio, with six adventurous comrades, put their
little barks to sea, in a state of weather which the ma
jority of the fishermen of the Douro, prudently per
haps, declined to face. Teresa, anxious throughout
the day, — the most wearisome she had ever spent, —
repaired at evening to the " look out" from the Freixo,
an hour before the return of the little fleet could be
reckoned upon. That hour wore heavily away, and
then another ; at last a sail hove in sight, — it was not
Antonio's ; a second, a third, and so on, until she
had counted six, but her husband's was not of the
number. She continued to watch with an anxiety
which every moment increased, until at length, un
able longer to contain herself, she rushed down to the
bank of the river to inquire if any of the returned
fishermen had tidings of her husband. She ap
proached one, and then another, but they all avoided

THE FISHERMAN OF THE DOURO. 99
her, — they who would, under other circumstances, have
gone some furlongs out of their way for a smile from
the pretty Teresa.
Then her heart sank within her, and, as the Scrip
ture saith, which hath a phrase and, blessed be God !
a balm for every human suffering, " an horrible dread
overwhelmed" her. At last came the fatal truth, and
with it came the shriek of agony and the fixed look
of despair, and that utter prostration of the spirit
which none can conceive but they who have seen the
gulph of the grave suddenly open between them and
those they best loved on earth. O ! if there be a
picture of desolation on which we gaze with more
anguish of heart than another, it is the widow ! Man,
whatever may be the intensity of his grief, is, in most
instances, prevented from brooding over it by the
bustle of the world into which he is of necessity flung;
and though " honour's voice" cannot " provoke the
silent dust," it is still music to the ears of living clay,
and the " noble infirmity '' of ambition may beguile the
softest heart of its sorrows. But to the majority of
women the path of ambition is closed ; and it is well
that it is so, since few of them tread in its briery paths,
without losing much of the bloom which constitutes
the chief charm of the feminine character.
The account brought by the fishermen who had ac
companied Antonio was, that he had ventured further
to sea than the rest ; that a violent squall had come
on, and that his little bark had been capsized in sight
of them all ; that, from the fury of the tempest, they
had been unable to render him any succour, but that
h2

100 THE FISHERMAN OF THE DOURO.
when its rage had somewhat abated, one ofthe boldest
ventured to the spot, and found the boat keel upper
most on the wide ocean.
Teresa, however, was not quite alone ; there was yet
left to her her child, and while she had something to
love, the world was not all a blank to her. True it
was, that she had to work for the subsistence of her
self and her orphan babe, and the harvest of her
labour was scant ; but the deficiency was made up by
the kindness of those neighbours who regulated their
alms by the pious maxim, that " he who giveth to the
poor, lendeth to the Lord." Thus it was, that not
withstanding her adverse circumstances, she was still
enabled to keep, not only the house over her head, but
the gaunt wolf from the door.
It was at the close of one of those lovely days with
which Portugal is so abundantly blessed, that Teresa,
the labour of the day being over, was sitting in her
cottage, with no other companionship than that of
her sleeping babe and her own melancholy thoughts.
Her dwelling was at some little distance from the vil
lage, and removed a few paces from the common path ;
so that she was startled by the approach of footsteps
at that hour of the evening, for it was growing dusk.
She looked from the window, and, by the imperfect
light, perceived a person in the trim dress of an
English sailor approaching the door, which she, in
stinctively as it were, immediately fastened ; and had
scarcely done so before an attempt was made, on the
outside, to open it. Aware that the door was inca
pable of resisting much violence, and feeling the utter

THE FISHERMAN OF THE DOURO. 101
helplessness of her situation, she sunk into a chair
almost paralysed by fear.
" Teresa ! " exclaimed a voice. Was that voice from
the grave ? First came a superstitious fear over her
spirit ; then passed over it a gleam of reviving hope,
and then the cold damp of doubt, until her name
was again uttered by the same voice: the door sud
denly flew open, and Antonio stood before her !
The reader will imagine the rest of the scene, but
may desire to know the manner of the poor fisherman's
deliverance. It was true that his little craft had been
capsized in the storm, and that so suddenly, that he
was scarcely aware of the fact, until he found himself
struggling among the waves. By dint of great exertion
he contrived to regain his boat, but was unable to
right her. After some difficulty he managed, as his
only chance of immediate safety, to mount upon her
keel ; where he remained for a considerable time,
making signals to his comrades, whose attention, how
ever, he could not succeed in attracting.
At length, an English brig descried him, and, at
considerable hazard, bore down to his relief. To
lower a boat in such a sea, would have been but a
wanton sacrifice of life ; and thus all they could do
was to fling him a rope, of which he made such good
use, that he was speedily upon the deck of the brig.
No sooner was he safe from the peril of drowning,
than his thoughts reverted to Teresa, and to the agony
which his absence would occasion to her. The cap
tain of the brig, however, in reply to his frantic
supplications to be set on shore, represented to him

102 THE FISHERMAN OF THE DOURO.
the impossibility of compliance, and that there was no
thing left for him but to make the voyage to England,
and get back to Portugal as well as he could.
It happened that the passage was a remarkably
rough one ; and the vessel, as is too frequently the
case, being but shortly manned, the activity of Antonio
was often called into requisition and was duly appre
ciated, not only by the captain, but by the only pas
senger, a merchant of London, who had chartered the
ship, and having been at Oporto on a visit of business,
took that opportunity of returning to England.
The vessel arrived at Gravesend, where the merchant
had Antonio called aft, and told him that he had heard
his story, by which he had been greatly interested,
and moreover felt personally indebted to him for his
exertions, to which he in some degree attributed,
under Providence, the safety of the ship ; that he
would take upon himself to procure him a free passage
back to Oporto ; but as several days might possibly
elapse before he could accomplish this, and as An
tonio's scanty knowledge of the language and entire
ignorance of the customs of the country might expose
him to inconvenience if left alone in the great metro
polis, he offered him what he called the " run of his
house" until he could find him a ship.
Antonio was sufficiently alive to the advantages of
such an offer to embrace it immediately, which he
did with expressions of the sincerest gratitude ; and in
the course of the next six hours, found himself com
fortably installed in the servants' hall of one of the
most opulent merchants in the city of London.

THE FISHERMAN OF THE DOURO. 103
The worthy merchant's kindness did not stop here ;
for, willing that his humble guest should see as
many of the lions of the metropolis as possible during
his short stay, he committed him to the ciceroneship
of his butler, whom he also commissioned to make
such a metamorphosis in Antonio's outward man, as
would render him a less conspicuous object " to fix
the gaze of idiot wonder," than he would have been
in the garb of a Portuguese fisherman. The said but
ler had a kind heart, but withal an eye to his own
dignity; and accordingly, when he took him to the
shop of an outfitter, — so called because they are usu
ally out in their fitting, — he took especial care to rig
him in a jacket and trousers of superfine blue cloth, of
a fancy cut, such as were worn by old Incledon when
he sang The Storm on the boards of Drury-lane.
Nor were the cares of the butler thrown away upon
Antonio, who, independently of his handsome face
and fine figure, was, unlike his countrymen, naturally
of tidy habits, and looked the beau ideal of a sailor.
Indeed, it is perhaps well that his sojourn in the mer
chant's family was not prolonged, for he became such
a huge favourite among the females of the establish
ment, that had he not left a wife in Portugal, he
might have suited himself to his heart's content in
England : but alas ! the recollection of poor Teresa,
whom he justly pictured in despair for his loss, was a
sad drawback upon the pleasure he derived from the no
velties which London presents to the eye of a foreigner.
He saw the Bank, and the Royal Exchange, and
the Monument, and Pidcock's, St. Paul's, and the rich

101 THE FISHERMAN OF THE DOURO.
Rothschild, and, sight of sights ! the Lord Mayor's
coach, and the Tower, and Westminster Abbey, and,
in fact, every accessible lion in London. Among
other gratifications, and not the least of them, was a
visit to the merchant's country-house, where he had
an opportunity of witnessing rural life in England ;
which, however it may be the fashion to decry it in
these days of emigration, must to the eye of a foreigner,
of whatever condition, present a striking contrast to
the filth and wretchedness one sees abroad.
A gentleman, not less distinguished by his genius
than his rank in society, once mentioned to the
writer, that while travelling on the continent, some
years since, he heard most appalling accounts of the
English peasantry, who were represented to him as
ripe for rebellion. " But," said he, "when I crossed the
Channel, and saw the cottagers' windows glazed, I
knew it was all right. These fellows, thought I, will
not throw stones, lest their own windows should
suffer in the melee."
The merchant was as good as his word in every
particular, and Antonio had not been in England a
fortnight, before a passage for Oporto was secured for
him ; and he departed for his native land laden with
favours, and particularly with presents for Teresa and
his little girl, from the lovely daughters of his gene
rous host.
How true is it, that when relieved from greater
evils, the mind dwells upon minor ones ! Thus it
was that Teresa, now that her husband was restored
to her, and that, as it were, from the grave, began

THE FISHERMAN OF THE DOURO. 105
to bewail the loss of the gallant craft, and to express
her apprehensions as to their future means of sub
sistence. Antonio, with a smile at her fears, drew from his
pocket a paper, saying, " The kind Englishman has
provided against that : see, here is that which will
build me the finest boat on the Douro."
When our friend had finished his story, we accom
panied him on a visit to the dwelling of the hero of it,
and our national predilections were highly gratified
by observing, in the neatness and order that pervaded
it, that Antonio had profited by his visit to the vil
lages of England. Indeed, so far had his prejudices
been overcome by his reception in a land of strangers,
that, we are informed, he has had something like a
quarrel with his priest, for presuming to doubt that
all heretics must infallibly go to the place not to be
mentioned in ears polite.

We could glean little authentic information as to the
origin of the Freixo, but it is generally believed to
have been built by an Englishman. It is an old, ram
bling sort of building, of a peculiar style of architec
ture, and the material is stone. It is at present unin
habited. The decoration of the interior, however,
appears to have been a work of great care and cost.
The grounds also exhibit the like attention to the
ornamental, — statues, grottos, etc. etc. being liberally
scattered about the gardens attached to the edifice,
although the hand of neglect and consequent decay is
visible throughout. A merchant with whom we were

106 VILLA DO CONDE.
acquainted while at Oporto, was desirous of purchas
ing this property, with a view of converting it into a
country residence ; but on investigation, it turned out
that no secure title could be given to the buyer, — a
circumstance which has doubtless caused it to remain
so long untenanted.
During our stay at Oporto we made an excursion to
Villa do Conde, for which place we started at three
o'clock in the morning with our excellent friend F  ,
whose amiable and beautiful wife had provided us
with all sorts of good things for our refreshment;
since to have calculated on the chances of what the inn
at that place might afford, was too hazardous a specu
lation to be ventured upon. Accordingly we set out
well mounted, and attended by John on a sumpter
mule, and a guide. Our journey was marked by little
of interest, either as regarded incident or scenery, the
latter being dull, and the roads made disagreeable
by dust.
At half past eight we arrived at Villa do Conde, and
after dispatching some of the good things provided by
the hospitality of Mrs. F  , we sallied forth in search
of the picturesque. The bridge by which we crossed
into the town is a wooden one, a very poor affair, and
of recent erection ; the former one, which was of stone,
having been carried away by a flood, and the frag
ments scattered in all directions. Judging, however,
by what remains of the piers, we should suppose
that the stone structure was a handsome and substan
tial one. The river has a lively appearance from the
fishing-boats with which the harbour abounds.

aqued"uct. 107
The principal object of curiosity at Villa do Conde
is the royal nunnery of Santa Clara. The building is
extensive, and is advantageously placed on a height,
immediately above the old bridge. > Costigan speaks
of it as being, in his time, the refuge of some of the
" best female blood" ofthe province; the nobility of
which were so poor, that, not being able to marry
their daughters according to their rank, they protected
themselves from the disgrace of an unworthy alliance,
by shutting up their children in this convent, without
any regard to their inclinations.
The aqueduct, which Costigan describes as bringing a
stream of fine water to the convent from the mountains,
at a distance of about seven miles, owes its origin to an
act of such questionable honesty as would have cost a
modern general, not merely his laurels, but his life. At
the time when the Spaniards were driven out of Portu
gal, and the Duke of Braganza was proclaimed king,
the general who had the charge of the province had a
sister, the lady-abbess of the convent of Santa Clara,
which at that period was suffering greatly from the
want of water. Preferring the convenience of his re
lative to the service of his king, this general, while
raising recruits for his army by a mode similar to that
of conscription, gave those upon whom the lot unhap
pily fell, the option of working upon the aqueduct for
a stipulated period, which was to be held an equivalent
for military service. The result was, that the piety of
the young men of the country prevailed over their
martial ardour; the army remained a skeleton, and the
aqueduct was completed in an incredibly short space

108 CURIOUS "SET OF CHAMBERS."
of time, with little expense either to the general or
the convent.
The exterior architecture of the convent has been
much admired, although we were not so struck
with its beauty as other travellers who have visited
and described it. The interior is decorated with much
carving, and is in some parts richly gilt. There are
also some tombs and monumental effigies which are
curious, particularly those of the founder, Don Al
fonso, and his wife.
The revenues of this convent were once very con
siderable, though doubtless it has suffered in common
with other establishments of the same kind. During
our visit, some of the nuns appeared at the grating; we
took off our hats, and the sisters returned our saluta
tion by kissing their hands.
On returning to our hotel we were shown into a
large room, which contained four doors, each opening
into a small bed-chamber, and bearing an inscription :
No. 1, for instance, contained a small bed, the inscrip
tion over the door being Obediencia. Over No. 2,
containing two beds, was written Prudencia, Memoria.
No. 3 held a small bed, with a chair for an attendant,
and over the door was Humildade. No. 4, bearing the
inscription Paz, contained a good-sized bed. We were
favoured with an explanation of the enigma, but as it
was not particularly edifying, and we have some doubts
of its correctness, we will not trouble our readers with
the story. It is probable, that the inscriptions were
used to distinguish the rooms, as in English inns apart
ments are known by the names of the " Lion," etc.

PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE. 109
We had reason to congratulate ourselves on having
come provided with refreshments, for without them
we should have fared badly ; to say nothing of our
escape from the execrable cookery of all Portuguese
inns. By the way, we would recommend travellers,
who may happen to be reduced to the necessity of
submitting to the abomination of Portuguese cooks,
never to visit the kitchen, or to make any inquiries
as to the processes there adopted, for in no case can
the maxim better apply,
" Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise."
The object of our visit to Oporto having been ac
complished, we began to make preparations for the
prosecution of our tour. Unacquainted with the man
ners of the country, and not always successful in mak
ing ourselves understood by the natives, our first care
was to engage a servant who would supply our defi
ciencies, as far as they could be met by such means.
We were very fortunate in having recommended to us
a Portuguese, who had been in the service of a British
officer during the Peninsular campaign of the Duke of
Wellington, and who had also visited England. Pie
spoke English with almost as much facility as he did
Portuguese, and was familiar with the habits of our
countrymen. We believe it is a maxim with some, that
confidence begets fidelity, and we had no cause to
regret having acted upon it on this occasion. We
called him into our presence, while the gentleman
who recommended him was with us at our hotel, and
asked him the amount of remuneration which he would
expect. He named twelve crusado novos per month,

110 PATTERN OF SERVANT.
to which we instantly agreed; adding, that as we must
necessarily confide, not only our personal comfort,
but our property, in a great degree, to his fidelity, we
would double his allowance if, at the expiration of his
service, we had no reason to be dissatisfied with him.
As matters turned out we could not, had we searched
Portugal through, have met with a man better fitted to
our purpose. He was diligent, respectful, sober, and
honest. With a great admiration of English manners
and habits, he exhibited a nervous anxiety, upon all
occasions, to hide the faults of his countrymen, which
his visit to England had rendered more palpable to
him than they had previously been. The contrast be
tween the English and Portuguese, particularly those
of the provinces, is in no instance so apparent as in the
matter of cleanliness ; and on the many occasions on
which we had to complain to him on the subject, his
uniform answer was a shrug of the shoulders and the
remark, that not having witnessed the comfort of
cleanliness as displayed in England, they were not
aware of their culpability.
Previously to our quitting our own country, we had
been kindly warned by a friend of the inconveniences
we were likely to encounter ; and accordingly pro
vided against them as well as circumstances would
permit, and in a manner which we will note for the
benefit of those who may contemplate a provincial
tour in Portugal, the increased facilities of communi
cation with which country will doubtless tempt many
a traveller from the shores of " merry England."
We provided ourselves with a brass bedstead, and

ADVICE TO TRAVELLERS. Ill
bedding ; cooking utensils, which, unless a man desire
to be poisoned by the atrocities of Portuguese cooks,
are indispensable ; a good supply of coffee, tea, rice,
and brandy ; for with regard to the three first, if the
traveller have them not, he will often go without a
meal; and as to the eau de vie, he will find it, when
mixed with water, infinitely preferable to the miserable
wine of the country.
Another particular in which it behoves the traveller
to be careful, is the choice of his mules, as well as his
muleteer. Three mules, one for himself, another for
his servant, and a third for the owner, will be the least
number he will require; and with judgment, the bag
gage may be so distributed as not to inconvenience the
animals or their riders. We were tolerably fortunate,
both in our muleteer and his cattle ; but it required no
little exertion, as well as determination on our parts,
to induce the fellow to perform a reasonable day's
journey. Often, after riding on a-head of the party,
have we been compelled to turn back to quicken the
movements of our followers, whom we frequently
found asleep upon their mules.

!12 COIMBRA.

CHAPTER IV.
COIMBRA.
Departure from Oporto — Albergaria — Sardao — Coimbra— Its
University — Prior of St. Bento — Bridge — Santa Clara — Santa
Cruz — Marvellous Fountain — Sieges of Coimbra ; by Ferdi
nand of Navarre ; by the Moors ; by Alfonso — Loyalty of the
Governor, Martin de Freitas — Battle of Busaco — Anecdote of a
Portuguese Peasant-girl — Curiosities of Portuguese Litera
ture — Memoir of Murphy — The old Cathedral.
Leaving Oporto, we proceeded towards Coimbra lay
way of Oliveira, and reached Albergaria the first day,
where we slept. The country through which we passed
was well cultivated. The mountains in the distance,
and which were in sight the whole of the way, were
singularly picturesque. At three o'clock the next
morning we pursued our journey. The country about
Sardao is remarkably beautiful, presenting an interest
ing variety of hill and dale, well watered, and abound
ing in Indian corn. Coimbra is not seen to advantage
from the road by which we approached it ; but the
view of the city from the hills on the south is remark
ably fine.
The city of Coimbra is built on the side of a hill, at
the foot of which flows the river Mondego. It is a

UNIVERSITY. 113
bishop's see, and was formerly the seat of that dreaded
tribunal, the Inquisition. In this city the Jesuits once
had one of the finest colleges which their order could
boast ; but, on the suppression of the society in Portu
gal, their college and other possessions were applied
to the uses of the university, which, indeed, is now the
principal object of interest at Coimbra. It was insti
tuted by King Denis, who removed the seat of learn
ing thither from Lisbon in 1306. It was subsequently
restored to Lisbon, whence it was again transferred to
Coimbra in 1527, by John III. The university is also
under great obligations to the Marquis of Pombal, who
made several wholesome reforms in its constitution,
and added to the studies previously pursued there,
those of mathematics and natural philosophy. Mr.
Kinsey informs us, that the number of academical
students, at the time of his visit in 1827, was about
twelve hundred, and that the charge for board and
lodging is from two to three pounds per month ; so
that the whole of the expenses incurred during eight or
nine months' attendance on lectures, need not exceed
thirty pounds. He adds, that the professors' chairs
are numerous, the lectures, for the most part, gratui
tously open to the students, and that the university is
admirably provided with the apparatus' necessary in
the various schools of science. Mr. Kinsey speaks of
the public library, consisting of three large saloons,
as being filled with ancient books, but very deficient
in modern literature ; and gives the preference to the
library of the convent of the Benedictines, as pos
sessing a more extensive collection, including more
l

114 THE FAT PRIOR.
modern works. Rhys speaks of the university as, in
his time, (1749,) consisting of sixteen colleges, with
fifty professors, and about three thousand students ;
and the revenues as amounting to i0,000l. per annum.
In the museum it would seem that there is little
worthy of notice but the collection of shells and
minerals, which are said to be extensive and well
arranged. Murphy refers to an excellent botanical
collection in his time.
Murphy, in his " Manuscript Journal," says, that on
his arrival at Coimbra, he waited on the prior of the
convent of St. Bento, whom he describes as being
seated in the centre of a room, and wrapped up in a
large black cloak. He understood no language but
his own, and seemed not particularly to relish the
visit. " His head," says Murphy, " was round as a
sphere, and his body short and thick ; 'twas hard to
say whether his reverence moved in a horizontal or
vertical direction. The plump features of his face
pronounced him a man who never perplexed his
brains in the intricate mazes of science ; good eating
and drinking, and the easy stupefaction of his bed, or
two-arm chair, seemed to engross his whole attention."
The worthy prior, however, deputed two young stu
dents to show him the lions of Coimbra. The mu
seum, according to his account, was not particularly
rich in curiosities ; the principal ones mentioned by
him being "a small wolf, a cock with three legs, an
eel ten feet long, a horn of a unicorn, and an elephant's
tooth, twisted like a French horn, measuring five feet
ten inches."

HKMARKABLE BRIDGE. 115
At the time of our visit to Coimbra, the convent of
St. Bento had been converted into public offices; the
poor monks having been thrust forth upon the wide
world. Murphy, speaking of the site of Coimbra, says, —
" There is not as much level ground to be found in
Portugal as would serve to build a small town on.
Coimbra is about as rocky as Oporto ; in either place
'tis impossible for old or gouty people to walk. Such
mountains and barren rocks are only fit for the resi
dence of goats; neither coach nor chaise is to be
found in either place ; 'tis impossible that any quadru
ped could keep its legs in such steep precipices, except
that hardy animal the mule, which nature has formed
to this barren soil."
The bridge, it is supposed, is the third which has
been built, and that under it are two others, which
have been successively buried in the accumulating
sands ; and even now, in the winter, the water occa
sionally overflows the bridge. Rhys speaks of the
bridge as being particularly grand. " It was first
built," he says, "by Alonso Enriquez in 1132, and
rebuilt by his son Sancho in 1210. It consists of
twenty-nine arches ; over which is raised another row,
by means of which the people cross the river under
cover." This would seem to bear out the theory of
the three bridges, and show that Rhys saw two of them.
The convent of Santa Clara is an object of great
interest ; it is a beautiful structure, but of compara
tively modem date, the ancient one being almost
buried in the sands. Rhys states the original convent
i 2

116 VORACIOUS FOUNTAIN.
to have been founded by Queen Isabella, who was in
terred there in a richly carved monument ; the whole
having been enclosed by a balustrade of silver.
Santa Cruz is another large monastery at Coimbra,
in the lower part of the city ; but Mr. Kinsey states
it is more remarkable from its containing the ashes of
Alfonso Henriquesand Sancho I., than for any archi
tectural beauty.
Rhys has a somewhat marvellous story of a fountain
near Coimbra, to the north-west. It is called Fer-
vencas, and, says our authority, " though it is no more
than one foot in depth, swallows up every thing that
is thrown into it, as trees, animals, etc. And be
sides other experiments, which people are continually
making, King John the Third, in the sixteenth century,
ordered a horse to be put into it, and it sunk down
insensibly, and was soon gone so far, that they had
the utmost difficulty to get it out again. A few years
after that, Cardinal Henry ordered the trunk of a large
tree to be pitched upright in it, which, in a little time,
entirely disappeared."
Coimbra has figured very conspicuously in the mi
litary annals of Portugal, and has been the scene of
some severe conflicts. As early as the year 1063,
when in possession of the Moors, it was besieged by
Ferdinand of Navarre, at the instigation of two monks
of Lorvan, who informed him that the city was badly
provisioned, and worse garrisoned. However, it cost
him seven months' investment; during which pro
visions grew so scarce, that Ferdinand was about to
raise the siege, when the monks of the monastery of

SIEGE OF COIMBRA.

117

Lorvan supplied him so plentifully, that on the city
being taken, he, willing to show his gratitude for their
aid and advice, desired them to name a boon, which
they modestly restricted to a request for a church in
the city. The king's generosity, however, so greatly
exceeded the expectations of the monks, that they
acknowledged his bounty by presenting him with a
crown of gold, which a certain Count Gonzalvo Moniz
had offered to their church.
In the year 1109, we find Coimbra again besieged
in turn by the Moors, under King Ali Haben Joseph,
who, with a numerous army, battered it with great
vigour for a month ; when Henry Earl of Portugal,
marching to the relief of the city, overthrew the Moors,
who suffered most severely in the conflict.
About the year 1136, it was once more invested by
the Moors under Eujuni, whose army is said to have
amounted to 300,000 fighting men, and to have covered
all the plains around the city. An arm, however,
more powerful than that of man, in this instance,
wrought the deliverance of the city ; for the plague
broke out in the Moors' army, and compelled them to
break up the siege, and to retire with a fearful dimi
nution of their forces.
In the year 1248, we find this notable city defended
by Martin de Freitas against Alfonso, then regent, but
who afterwards assumed the sovereignty of Portugal.
The siege was a long and most obstinate one ; the
governor, Freitas, not acknowledging the regent, who
had deposed his brother Sancho the Second. At length,
the news of the latter's death having reached Coimbra,

118 POSTHUMOUS LOYALTY.
the governor demanded a truce, in order that he might
ascertain the accuracy of the rumour. Accordingly,
proceeding to Toledo, he caused the grave of Sancho
to be opened, and having satisfied himself by a sight
of the corpse, he deposited upon it the keys of the city
of Coimbra : he then asked leave of the inanimate
body to present them to his brother the regent,
and interpreting silence into acquiescence, resumed
them, and returning to Coimbra, opened the gates to
Alfonso. The latter was so struck by the loyalty and
gallantry of Freitas, that he not only confirmed him
in the governorship of the city, without exacting
homage, but extended the privilege to his heirs.
Freitas, however, for some cause, referable perhaps to
his loyalty to the deceased Sancho, not only refused
to accept the boon, but laid his curse upon such of
his heirs, to the fourth generation, as should take
advantage of the grant.
In the latter part of the sixteenth century, Antony,
the grand-prior of Crato, or the order of Malta, took
refuge in Coimbra, where he fortified himself with 5000
men ; but finally retired from it before a superior force.
The vicinity of Coimbra, in modern times too, has
been the scene of much bloodshed and many gallant
deeds, in which England has reaped not a few of
her imperishable laurels. It was in the vicinity of
Coimbra that the valour of the British soldier was
conspicuously displayed : we allude to the battle of
Busaco, in which the Portuguese troops so well sup
ported their allies, as to draw the following encomium
from the first soldier in the world. " This movement ''

BATTLE OF BUSACO. 119
writes Wellington, in his despatch to Lord Liverpool,
" has afforded me the favourable opportunity of show
ing the enemy the description of troops of which this
army is composed; it has brought the Portuguese
lines into action with the enemy, for the first time, in
an advantageous situation ; and they have proved that
the trouble which has been taken with them has not
been thrown away, and that they are worthy of con
tending in the same ranks with British troops in this
interesting cause, which they afford the best hopes of
saving." It would scarcely be fair to yield to our inclination to
give the whole of the gallant Napier's details of this
battle ; but we cannot forbear quoting one or two
passages, which we do, not so much for the purpose
of illustrating our subject, as on account ofthe spark
ling beauty and vigour of his style.
" Ross's guns were worked with incredible quick
ness, yet their range was palpably contracted every
round ; and the enemy's shot came singing up in a
sharper key, until the skirmishers, breathless and be
grimed with powder, rushed over the edge of the
ascent, when the artillery suddenly drew back, and
the victorious cries of the French were heard within a
few yards of the summit. Crawford, who, standing-
alone on one of the rocks, had been intently watching
the progress of the attack, then turned, and in a quick
shrill tone, desired the two regiments in reserve to
charge. The next moment a horrid shout startled the
French column ; and eighteen hundred British bayo
nets went sparkling over the brow ofthe hill. Yet,"

120 TOUCHING INCIDENT.
continues the writer, paying the tribute which the
brave man ever delights to accord to a gallant foe,
" so truly brave and hardy were the leaders of the
enemy, that each man of the first section raised his
musket, and two officers and ten soldiers fell before
them. Not a Frenchman had missed his mark ! They
could do no more. The head of their column was
violently overturned and driven upon the rear ; both
flanks were lapped over by the English wings, and
three terrible discharges at five yards' distance com
pleted the rout. In a few minutes a long trail of
carcasses and broken arms indicated the line of
retreat." We conceive this description to be perfect, and the
passages which we have put in italics, poetry of no
common order ; although, perhaps, the gallant histo
rian may not thank us for the compliment, which we
cannot help paying to genius in whatever shape we may
find it. One more quotation from the same author, with
reference to the battle of Busaco, and we will take our
reluctant leave of him.
" Meanwhile an affecting incident, contrasting
strongly with the savage character of the preceding
events, added to the interest of the day. A poor
orphan Portuguese girl, about seventeen years of age
and very handsome, was seen coming down the moun
tain, and driving an ass loaded with all her property
tlirough the midst of the French army. She had
abandoned her dwelling in obedience to the procla
mation, and now passed over the field of battle, with
a childish simplicity, totally unconscious of her peril-

FRANCISCO DE MACEDO. 121
ous situation, and scarcely understanding which were
the hostile and which the friendly troops ; for no man
on either side was so brutal as to molest her."
While on the subject of Coimbra, which, as a seat
of learning, has been styled the Oxford of Portugal,
a brief notice of some of the writers of that nation
may not be unacceptable or uninteresting to our
readers, presenting, as it will, some
Curiosities of Portuguese Literature.
Francisco de Macedo. He was born at Coimbra in
1596, and, very early in life, joined the society of
Jesuits, which, however, he abandoned a few years
after for the order of St. Francis. He wrote largely
in defence of the Duke of Braganza's right to the
throne of Portugal, and, in consequence it is pre
sumed, was attached to the embassy from that prince
to the courts of England and France. His attain
ments, if Leti is to be believed, were of no ordinary
kind. He spoke twenty-two languages ; and had dis
tinguished himself as a poet, orator, historian, philo
sopher, and divine. He delivered sixty discourses in
Latin, and thirty-two funeral orations ; doubtless to
the great edification of his auditors. Of his writings,
our authority informs us, there were extant forty-
eight poems, whether long or short is not stated ;
one hundred and twenty-three eulogies, which, if one-
half of them were deserved, speak eloquently for the
virtues of his age ; one hundred and fifty epitaphs ;
two hundred and twelve epistles dedicatory ; and
more than two thousand epigrams, sufficient, one

122 FRANCISCO MANUEL DE MELLO.
would think, to gain for him the title of the Martial
of Portugal. He appears also to have been distin
guished as a dramatic writer ; nay, he would seem to
have been the Farley of his day, and to have perpe
trated pantomime as well as tragedy ; for it was said
of his theatrical pieces, that he pleased the deaf as well
as the blind.
It is related of Macedo, that while at Venice he
" maintained a thesis'' before the proctor of St. Mark,
and the senators and nobles of that city, during three
days, " upon every subject," (de omnibus rebus et
quibusdam aliis J ; and although the doctors and
masters of all the orders interrogated and tried him
with innumerable questions and arguments, he an
swered all to their satisfaction.
He was called to Rome, where he was made pro
fessor of polemical divinity in the Propaganda college,
and of ecclesiastical history in another, and finally,
censor of the holy office. He died at Padua, at the
advanced age of eighty-five, or, according to some,
eighty-eight. Francisco Manuel de Mello. His motto would
seem to have been, " jlrma cedunt togce," for, al
though for many years he held a distinguished rank
in the Portuguese army, he found time to write not
less than fifty-nine works, the titles of some of which
are curious. I take a few of them : " Advice to Mar
ried People : " " The Satyrist in Love, a Comedy : "
" The Impossible, a Tragedy." " Apologies for Idle
ness : " "A Treatise on True Friendship : " " Mani
festoes on Royal Assassination:" " Moral Dialogues

BERNARDINO R1BE1RO. 123
of Speaking Watches : " " The Avaricious Counting-
House:" and, proving that punning is confined to
neither age nor language, " The Fair of Punsters : "
lastly, "The Busy Body, a Farce:" and "The Art
of Letter Writing ; " which last two, not less than the
fact of his having instituted a sort of club of Odd Fel
lows, called the Singulares, consisting of " all the wits
and eccentric characters of the nation," who were wont
to assemble at his house, prove that there is nothing
new under the sun.
Bernardino Ribeiro. Being of an ancient and
honourable family, he was, according to the custom
of the time, received as a pensioner, at a very early
age, at the court of King Emanuel, in consideration
of the services of his ancestors. He was a writer of
considerable originality and imagination ; insomuch,
that his work called Desideratum was greatly eulo
gized by Camoens, " for its variety of singular meta
phors, and rapid succession of original sentiments."
His story is a somewhat romantic one ; for, encou
raged by the encomiums bestowed upon his verses by
Donna Beatrice, the second daughter of his sovereign,
he became desperately enamoured of her; and on her
marriage with Charles Duke of Savoy, he abandoned
himself to melancholy and solitude in the most bleak
and unfrequented part of Cintra. After some time,
however, he was induced by his friends to travel, and
accordingly set out for Rome; on his return from
which city he passed through Savoy, where, encoun
tering the object of his passion, he supplicated for
charity. The duchess recognised her former admirer,

124 augustin barbosa.
and, being much affected by his appearance, presented
him with a piece of gold, and exhorted him to return to
his friends. Whether it was that the duchess had no
wish to be further troubled by the love-stricken poet,
or that the duke thought his absence desirable, is not
stated ; but certain it is, that poor Ribeiro received a
preremptory order, on the following morning, to quit
Savoy without delay. He thereupon returned to Lis
bon, and shortly afterwards died.
Augustin Barbosa : a very learned man, and a na
tive of Guimaraens, who seems not to have escaped
the common lot of authors ; for we gather from John
Victor Rossi, that Barbosa was so poor, that he had
but one meal in four-and-twenty hours. Notwith
standing the abject state of penury in which he lived, the
furor scribendi was strong within him ; for he wrote
several books, and not having a library of his own,
he spent his days in booksellers' shops, and his nights
in composition. Although his biographer greatly com
mends his piety, as well as his learning, he with much
simplicity records an anecdote which renders Barbo-
sa's honesty more than questionable. Barbosa's ser
vant having been despatched to market to buy fish,
returned with a small trout wrapped up in a leaf of
manuscript, which his master found to be part of a
work treating upon some abstruse point of canon law.
He accordingly repaired to the fishmonger, and ob
tained from him the remainder of the work, which the
pious man published as his own, under the title of
Officia Episcopi. From Rome he passed to Madrid, but
without improving his fortunes; until, at length, says

DA ROCH A PITTA — RAPHAEL BLUTEAU. 125
his biographer, " his learning and piety recommended
him to Philip IV., who preferred him to the bishopric
of Uguento in Otranto, where he died, much regretted
by his flock, in the year 1649."
Sebastian da Rocha Pitta : the author of a his
tory of Brazil, from its discovery in 1500 to 1724,
flourished in the reign of John V., and was chiefly
remarkable for his inflated and grandiloquent style of
composition. Raphael Bluteau was a priest, and, although a
Frenchman, Portugal was the theatre of his literary
career. He appears to have written with facility in
Latin and Spanish, as well as in his native language,
but is chiefly celebrated as a lexicographer, having
published a Portuguese and Latin Dictionary in eight
thick quarto volumes. In his introduction to this
work he remarks, that it is customary with writers to
give but one preface to a book, as if, he sagely argues,
there were but one class of readers in the world ; and
therefore, disdaining their example, he graces his dic
tionary with ten prefaces, addressed, respectively, to
the " Benevolent Reader ;" the " Malevolent Reader ;"
the " Impatient Reader ; " the " Portuguese Reader ; "
the " Foreign Reader ;" the " Learned Reader ;" the
" Ignorant Reader ; " the " Undiscerning Reader ; "
the " Impertinent Reader ; " the " Futile," and " Un
pleasant Reader." Nor is the title to his work less
curious, or even unworthy of these days of the march
of intellect. We will transcribe it. " Vocabulaire
Aulique — Architectonique — Bellique — Brasilique —
Comique — Chimique — Dogmatique — Dendrolo-

126 DE BARROS  DE MENEZES.
gique — Ecclesiastique — Economique — Floriferique
— Fructiferique — Geographique — Gnomonique —
Homonimique — Hieroglogique — Ictyologique — Isa-
gogique — Laconique — Lithologique — Meteor ologique
— JVeoterique — Orthographique — Ornithologique —
Poetique — Philologique — Quidditativique — Rus-
tique — Symbolique — Syllabique — Theologique — Te-
rapeutique — Technologique — Uranologique — Zeno-
phonique — Zoologique.' '
John de Barros : one of the most distinguished of
the Portuguese historians, and author of the Decades
of Asia. His statue was placed in the Vatican by
Pope Pius IV., and another statue of him was erected
in the mausoleum of illustrious persons at Venice.
These posthumous honours are, alas ! no evidence of
the encouragement afforded to him in his life time.
He died in 1570.
John Rodrigues de Sa' de Menezes : a soldier and
a statesman as well as a scholar, having been high in
authority under five sovereigns ; namely, Alfonso V.,
John II., Emanuel, John III., and Sebastian, each of
whom he served faithfully. Among his literary pro
ductions, is a collection of poems on the genealogy of
the principal families of Portugal. He appears to have
been a bold as well as a faithful councillor ; for when
Sebastian was about to embark in the expedition to
Africa, which terminated so fatally in his death, Me
nezes strongly remonstrated against the measure, as
threatening the extinction of the Portuguese monarchy
in Africa ; and recommended the king, if he persisted
in the undertaking, to carry thither, among the equip-

DE ORTA  CAMOENS. 127
ments of the army, a bier and a shroud, " in order to
give the nation a decent interment in that unhallowed
land." The indignant and ungracious reply of the
young monarch was, " I once thought you a brave
man ; but age has chilled your blood, and degenerated
you into a coward. How old art thou, Cavalier de
Menezes?" — "In your majesty's council," was the
firm and dignified rejoinder, " I am upwards of five
score years ; but in the field of battle, where I am
determined to fight under your banners till the last,
your majesty will scarcely think me thirty."
Menezes died in 1579, at the great age of 115, hav
ing lived in the reigns of six sovereigns of Portugal.
Garcia de Orta : a physician and naturalist, of
great celebrity in the sixteenth century. After having
attained the highest academic honours at Alcala and
Salamanca, he returned to practise medicine in Portu
gal, his native country. He visited India, and spent
thirty years in cultivating the science of medical bo
tany, and published the result of his investigations at
Goa in 1563.
Luis de Camoens : the poet, par excellence, of Por
tugal ; for the honour of giving birth to whom, as in
the instance of Homer, several towns contend. Lis
bon, however, is supposed to have the just title to that
distinction, while Coimbra has the honour of num
bering him among her students. He was the son of
Simon de Camoens, the master of a trading vessel, in
which he was cast away, and, with the greater portion
of his fortune, was lost. With the genius of poetry,
he appears to have possessed no ordinary share of its

128 CAMOENS.
romance. His handsome person, good humour, and
accomplishments, gave him a passport to the best so
ciety in Lisbon; where it was the custom, as in Spain
and other countries, for the youth to indulge their mis
tresses with nocturnal serenades. Camoens suffered
severely for following the fashion ; for having been de
tected in paying his devoirs, in this manner, to a lady
of high rank, her relatives took the matter so much
in dudgeon, that he received an order on the follow
ing morning to quit Lisbon ; and from this circum
stance the misfortunes of this hapless son of genius
may be dated.
Thus banished, he sought an asylum among his
mother's family at Santarem ; where, resuming his
studies, he first conceived the idea of writing a poem
on the discovery of India by Vasco de Gama. He
seems soon to have grown weary of a life of inaction,
and accordingly, embracing the profession of arms,
embarked with a body of troops for Africa, then the
seat of war. The vessel in which he proceeded thither
was attacked by a Moorish galley of greatly superior
force ; but after a most desperate battle, in which the
poet signalized himself by deeds ofthe most daring va
lour, the Crescent yielded to the Cross, and Camoens,
with the loss of an eye sustained in the engagement,
landed in Africa, where he gave additional proofs of
his courage and prowess. It is said of him, that he
had no sooner sheathed his sword after a victory,
than he took up the pen to celebrate the deeds of his
companions in arms, but forgot his own. His valour,
however, met with no better reward from his superior

CAMOENS. 129
officers than permission to return to Lisbon ; the reason
assigned for their neglect of his services being a fear of
giving offence to his enemies in that city by promoting
him to higher honours. He spent some time in fruitless
endeavours to obtain a reward for his services from
the court of Lisbon, and at last, bankrupt in patience
as well as in pecuniary resources, he embarked, a vo
luntary exile for India, in 1553, and, as it appears,
with a deteimination never to return, for on leaving
the Tagus he was heard to exclaim, Ingrata patria,
non possidebis ossa mea J
Having joined the Portuguese army in India as a
gentleman volunteer, he served in many expeditions
against the native princes, and was subsequently em
ployed in a diplomatic character ; and after having in
this capacity visited many parts of India and China,
he was appointed to some office in Macao, where, in
comparative ease, he composed the greater part of his
Lusiad. He was shipwrecked on his return from
Macao, on the Malabar coast, where he swam ashore,
holding his poem in one hand, having abandoned all
he possessed besides, as worthless in comparison
with it.
After sixteen years' hard service and exposure to an
Eastern sun, he returned to Lisbon, where he published
the Lusiad ; when Sebastian, being pleased with the
commencing lines addressed to himself, granted him
a pension of fifteen pounds, a pittance which, how
ever, he did not long enjoy ; for his patron having
been shortly afterwards killed in battle, his successor,
Henry, to his everlasting dishonour, withdrew the
K

130 ANTONIO VIERA  LOUIS DE SOUSA.
stipend. Fulfilling the destiny almost inseparable
from the poetical character, Camoens, literally a beg
gar, worn down by hard service, wounds, and the
heavier oppression of a grieved and mortified spirit,
took refuge in an almshouse, where he was sustained
by the pittance begged for him by an old and faithful
servant in the streets of Lisbon, — the city which after
wards contended for the honour of giving birth to the
man whom she had abandoned to the cold charity of
the world ! In this state of misery he died, at the age
of sixty-two, in the year 1 579.
Antonio Viera : a Jesuit of the seventeenth cen
tury. He was the author of a manuscript preserved
in the Vatican, entitled Clavis Prophetarum, which
cost him fifty years' hard study. He was also cele
brated for pulpit oratory. Murphy ascribes to him
the authorship of a political satire, entitled The Art
of Thieving.
Father Louis de Sousa was a gentleman of Por
tugal, moving in the first circles. He was an excel
lent scholar and highly accomplished, and is known
as the author of the best account of the monastery
of Batalha. His history, or rather a passage in it,
is full of romantic, albeit melancholy interest. In
the year 1578 was fought that memorable battle, in
which Sebastian of Portugal was defeated and slain
by the Moors, under Muly Moloch, Emperor of
Morocco ; and among the gentlemen who accompanied
the Portuguese monarch in this unfortunate expedi
tion, was one whose name the biographer has omitted,
but who, it seems, was included in the return of the

LOUIS DE SOUSA. 131
slain. The fact of his death was believed by all but
his widow, whose affection, for some time, clung to the
faint hope of his having survived the conflict. Ten
years, however, having elapsed without any tidings
being heard of him, his widow yielded to the per
suasions of her friends, favoured it may be by a
traitor in the citadel, and received the addresses of
De Sousa. They were accordingly married under the
happiest auspices ; but their short dream of felicity was
broken by the arrival in Lisbon of a merchant from
Africa, who, seeking out the lady, informed her that
he was charged with a commission from her husband,
who was then a captive among the Moors, and who
confidently relied on her affection for the means of
accomplishing his release.
In the perplexity naturally created by this extraor
dinary application, the lady, obeying the dictates alike
of feeling and duty, applied to De Sousa for advice ;
and he, with a firmness and principle which do him
honour, faced the evil, and determined to sift the
story to the bottom. Accordingly, with a view to
ascertaining the accuracy of the report, he conducted
the merchant to a picture gallery in his house, and
having told him that among the numerous portraits
there exhibited was that of the former husband of
his wife, he requested him to point out that which
he conceived to be the resemblance of the indivi
dual by whom he was commissioned to institute the
inquiry. The merchant, with commendable caution, endea
voured to excuse himself from the ordeal, alleging
i.- 1

132

JOHN DE SOUSA.

that the lapse of time and the rigours of servitude
must necessarily have wrought such a change in the
captive, as to render the identification of his portrait
a task of no ordinary difficulty : " Nevertheless," said
he, as he threw a cursory glance round the apartment,
" without risking the issue of my mission upon an
opinion hastily, and it may be inaccurately formed, I
should say that that portrait," pointing to the right
one, "is the resemblance of my captive friend."
De Sousa, convinced of the fact, resolved on imme
diately retiring to a monastery, while his wife, actuated
by similar feelings, took refuge in a nunnery ; but they
both previously adopted every possible means of res
cuing the former husband from bondage. De Sousa
enrolled himself in the Dominican convent of Bemfica,
near Lisbon ; and the fathers of that order, aware of
the qualifications of their newly acquired brother, and
being desirous of completing a history of their founda
tion, prevailed upon him to undertake the task, and
thus complete what Cacegas, a friar of their order, had
begun. Complying with the requisition, De Sousa set
about the work, which having completed, after many
years' labour, he published it in 1619 as the joint
production of Cacegas and himself, thus dividing
the honour which it is said he might have wholly
claimed for himself; " but," adds his biographer,
(Murphy,) " posterity has done justice to his memory,
and Cacegas' name is now remembered only through
Sousa's work."
Father John de Sousa is celebrated as an Arabic
scholar. He translated a series of papers entitled

JOHN DE SOUSA. 133
Documentos Arabicos, the originals of which were
deposited in the royal archives of Lisbon. One of
the letters (for an English translation of which the
author is indebted to Murphy) is quoted, as exhi
biting much of the inflated and adulatory, yet withal
highly poetical style of the East, with a feeling of
piety at once striking and affecting.
A letter from the King of Melinda to Emanuel
King of Portugal .-
" With the most profound respect, exalted and ho
nourable expressions, praises, salutations, and greet
ings from an humble and faithful servant, (who im
plores forgiveness from the majesty of God,) the Xeque
Wagerage, to the presence of the most illustrious,
happy, esteemed, sincere, praiseworthy, protecting,
permanent, and invincible monarch Emanuel, to whom
appertain every kindness, favour, and honour. His
name is celebrated by the people of every region ; his
benevolence is perpetual, and his fame everlasting.
Lord of the ennobled court, of the kingdom of dis
coveries, and of the palace of treasures. His subjects
are victorious, his castles formidable, his garrisons
fortified, his batteries elevated, his walls decorated,
his streets ornamented, his houses lofty, his palaces
admirable, his people just, his clergy humble, his
monks learned, his constitution established, his
subjects enterprising, his gates defended, his heroes
intrepid, his cavalry valiant, — one of these would
fight a hundred warriors. To his city are despatched
fleets deeply laden ; his presence bows the head and
bends the knee; he is the fountain of commerce in

134 JOHN DE SOUSA.
every city and kingdom. The equity of his admini
stration enriches the poor, and shortens the days of
his enemies ; whoever seeks to find a blemish in him
will seek in vain for what the eye never saw, nor the
ear ever heard ; he is the source of goodness and
honours, the dispenser of titles, the stem of nobility,
the centre of the universe, the pillar of power, the
munificent protector of the virtuous and meritorious ;
the king of regions, the crown of greatness, the diadem
of liberality ; whose forces have subdued Sinde, India,
Persia, Arabia, Egypt, Syria, Yeman, and all the pro
vinces of the universe. His voice brings the insolent
to subjection, and his aspect humbles the proud; an
example beyond emulation ; his name is praised
amongst men, because he raises up the poor. When
he sits on his throne, every eye is dazzled with his
glory : his customs are agreeable ; his authority
nerves the arm of the warrior; his fame resounds
from pole to pole ; his presence is more beautiful than
the full moon ; his graces refresh like the dew of
spring ; his determinations are as fixed as Fate ; his
name extends to every part of the earth ; his bene
ficence distinguishes him at all times and in all
countries. Such is King Emanuel : the great God
perpetuate his reign, and preserve him from the envy
and artifice of his enemies ! Amen.
" This is to give thee to understand, most dear and
sincere friend, that the writer is in good health, and
anxious to know the state of thine, and of all that be
long to thee. May the Lord preserve thee, and all
that is thine ! He would have come in person to thy

JOHN DE SOUSA. 135
noble presence, but being occupied in rearing his
sons, and providing them with servants and slaves,
who, together with their father, are thy servants and
slaves, and never cease to pray to God, by day and
night, to crown thee with honour, riches, and glory.
His person and property have been entirely devoted
to thy service, from the first time he has seen thy
subjects to the present hour, as they can inform thee.
He implores thy protection and friendship, to the end
that he may be honoured and esteemed by thy people.
He begs thy permission to sail in his own ship, once
a-year, to Goa and Mosambique, to provide neces
saries for thy use.
" Having contemplated all that this world could
hitherto boast of, he never could discover a monarch
more powerful, nor an empire more happy than thine.
It has pleased God to shower his blessings in abun
dance on thee, and it is to Him alone those blessings
must be ascribed.
" In ancient days, be it known to thee, 0 King,
there lived a generous man, named Halem, who was
the very essence of liberality, and had riches ade
quate to his munificence ; in all his life he was never
known to refuse any request. It is related that a
man who wanted to try the extent of his liberality,
made a journey for that purpose to his house. Halem
asked what brought him hither ? ' I came,' said
he, ' to demand thy head !' 'What claim hast thou
to my head?' replied Halem. ' Listen to me,' quoth
he: ' there lives a king in my neighbourhood, who
gave me a thousand pieces of gold to permit him to

136 JOHN DE SOUSA.
wear his head.' Halem immediately retired to his
chamber, brought out a thousand pieces, and says to
the man, as he extended his neck, ' Here, friend !
take your choice, — my head or the money.' The man
accepted the latter, and went away.
" Thy servant now, 0 King ! repeats a similar ex
periment. As thou art the most liberal sovereign
among the kings of the earth, I figure to myself thy
mighty power and resplendent qualities; and my
friends, who have weighed thy grandeur with all
others, agree that Alexander and Csesar were even as
dust in the balance compared to thee, because all the
treasure of the globe is at thy disposal : thy generosity,
therefore, however great, can never lessen thy wealth ;
remember then, 0 King ! that of all others, I am the
most deserving of thy favours.
" Thy servant, the Xeque Wagerage, implores thee
to look with an eye of compassion and clemency on the
inhabitants of Melinda; and if they be found worthy
of so great a favour, it will raise them in the estima
tion of surrounding nations, and entitle them to their
praise, respect, and protection ; and as the Xeque of
Melinda never yet visited Mosambique, he expects
that thou wilt condescend that he should go thither ;
and if any person, whether Portuguese or Musselman,
should presume to dictate to him, or resist his autho
rity, he shall reply that such is King Emanuel's plea
sure, which is the manner he now commands and
determines all matters in Melinda, because the autho
rity of monarchs is unlimited : he also desires, when the
Xeque of Melinda is at Mosambique, that orders will

KING DENIS. 137
be given to the Portuguese not to offend him, but con
sider him as the organ of the king, and invested with
his power. He will take cognizance of those who
have always co-operated to exalt thy name, interest,
and reputation ; of this, testimony shall be given by
thy servants, Simon de Andrade, Francisco Pereira,
Fernando de Freitas, Gaspar de Paiva, Antonio da
Costa, and all the rest of the Christians, as well as
Musselmen, of Mosambique.
" In fine, be assured, 0 King ! that myself, my sons,
and my property, are devoted to thy service, and shall
continue so to the last day of my life; therefore, I
implore thee to accede to my supplication. Peace be
with thee !
" Know, O interpreter of this letter ! that the Xeque
Wagerage warns thee to read this narrative to the king
in a proper and becoming manner, without adding or
diminishing aught, so that it may appear to all that the
sovereign was delighted with its contents. He will pay
thee thy customary fees: be careful, therefore, in doing
justice to it, and God will reward thee. Twenty-eighth
of Zulcade, nine hundred and twenty-one of the
Hegira, which corresponds to the thirtieth of Septem
ber, one thousand five hundred and fifteen."
King Denis was a poet and a prose writer. His
poems, which are only found in old manuscripts, ap
peared in the form of Cancioneiros, or song books,
and were divided into two sections, his spiritual and
his temporal works. The former has the odd title
of Our Lady's Song Book, (Cancioneiro da Nossa
Senhora.)

138 ALFONSO IV  VICENTE  FEHREIRA.
Alfonso IV., like his father Denis, and Alfonso
Sanchez, a natural son of the latter, were also poets,
as was Peter, the son of Alfonso, and the unfortunate
lover of the beautiful Agnes de Castro.
Gil Vicente was remarkable for his autos, or spiri
tual dramas ; the plots of some of which are of so
odd a character, as to provoke laughter, instead of in
spiring piety, — Mercury, the Devil, Time, a Seraph,
and the Church of Rome, being brought together on
the same stage. Among his other works is a dramatic
piece, in which a philosopher is introduced tied to a
fool, which the sage deplores as the greatest calamity
that could befall him.
Antonio Ferreira was born at Lisbon in 1528, and
was styled the Horace of Portugal. He was celebrated
for his odes and sonnets. He also wrote a pretty tale
in honour of a national saint named Colomba, who,
being pursued by a Moorish king, calls upon a rock
to open and deliver her, a miracle which accordingly
takes place, and a fountain gushes forth from the spot
where she disappeared, which is said to have possessed
some wonderful properties. He also made the story
of Agnes de Castro the subject of a tragedy.
Jorge de Montemayor, the contemporary of Ca
moens and Ferreira, is celebrated as the author of a
pastoral romance, entitled Diana.
Andrade Caminha, a friend and contemporary of
Ferreira, is not remarkable for his wit, although he
wrote many epigrams, besides epitaphs.

jajies cavenagh murphy. 139
We know not that we can better conclude this part
of our subject than by giving a brief memoir of one,
who, though not a Portuguese, has translated some
works from that language, and to whose patient in
dustry and enthusiasm in " the pursuit of knowledge
under difficulties," we owe much of what we know of
Portuguese antiquities, and especially of its monastic
architecture. James Cavenagh Murphy was a native of Black-
Rock, near Cork, and originally a bricklayer in that
city, where his talents for drawing, — principally exhi
bited in caricaturing his master with a burnt stick
upon the wall, — attracted the notice of the late Sir
James Chatterton. He was, through the patronage of
Sir James, enabled to visit Dublin, where he was in
troduced to the Honourable W. B. Conyngham, at
whose suggestion and, as will appear, with whose
assistance, he proceeded to Portugal. While in the
Peninsula, he applied himself diligently to the ac
quirement of the Spanish and Portuguese languages ;
and, says our authority, with such success, that he
was employed in a diplomatic mission of considerable
importance from the court of Portugal to that of
Spain. At the same time he pursued his professional
studies with an assiduity of which no adequate idea
can be formed, except by those who have seen the
mass of notes and drawings which he left behind him,
and which are now in the possession of Sir John
Deane, at one time sheriff of Cork.
In a letter to his patron, Mr. Conyngham, in the
early part of his visit to Batalha, he writes, " Since I

140 JAMES CAVENAGH MURPHY.
had the pleasure of seeing you last, Providence has
favoured me with a safe voyage, and an agreeable jour
ney to the monastery of Batalha, where I was kindly
received by the prior and all the convent; they re
member you perfectly well, and always speak of you
with the highest respect. Your elegant sketches of
this fine building often led me to think on the gran
deur ofthe original, which, I think, is one of the finest
pieces of Gothic architecture in Europe. If the dis
tance were three times as far, I would most cheerfully
undertake the journey, without repining at the length
ofthe way, to contemplate such inimitable beauty."
In the same letter he adds, " In the ancient build
ing alone are eight staircases, constructed within the
walls, winding round a column which, with the steps,
are cut out of the solid stone."
His labours at this spot had well nigh proved fatal
to him, for he says : " Some of the friars were appre
hensive at first that I did not come to Batalha for the
sake of making drawings of the building, but for some
other purpose. Lest they should take it in their heads
to prevent me, I applied so close to the drawings, day
and night, as to make all the sketches, with the finish
ed plan and elevation, in twenty-two days. After all,
they often put me to the blush in relating the abilities
of Manuel Catano, -and other celebrated Portuguese
artists, who took off the whole building in a few mi
nutes at one glance of an eye.* My application threw
me into a fever, which took its leave of me in one-and-
* The worthy monk must surely have drawn the long bow in
this statement.

JAMES CAVENAGH MURPHY. Ill
twenty days, during which time I had no one near me to
whom I could tell my sad story, not being able to speak
ten words of the language, and none of the fathers could
speak any language but Portuguese. The ignorance
of the physician only helped to increase the evil;
he was one of those wretches who carried fate and
physic in his face, commissioned by that seminary of
dunces at Coimbra to despatch the unfortunate can
didate for the grave ! He knew no other remedy but
bleeding, which he performed till he almost left me
a bloodless corpse ; hope was my last medicine, and
that I should live one day to see all the drawings of
Batalha in your possession, and prove my grateful
recollection of your past friendship. The consul of
Fuguria, [*;> in orig.~] hearing that some one belong
ing to you was sick at Batalha, sent a messenger with
a letter to me, offering to have me brought to his own
place, and another to the prior, charging him to let
me want for nothing. ***** The very
whisper of your name is sufficient to make a friend."
In another letter, Murphy acknowledges the receipt
of fifty pounds by order of Mr. Conyngham.
In an unpublished letter to Mr. P. Byrne, Grafton-
street, Dublin, he states, that on his quitting the mo
nastery of Batalha, he received, under the royal seal
of the convent, a certificate of his good conduct
during the three months he resided there.
On his arrival at Lisbon, he submitted his drawings
to the royal family, through the minister for the home
department, and received the following document
expressive of their approbation :

1 12 JAMES CAVENAGH MURPHY.
" Her Majesty and his Royal Highness the Prince
have seen the drawings of Batalha, with which they
were greatly pleased ; they now return them, request
ing that as soon as they are engraved, the artist will
remember to send them some copies, to renew the
pleasure they had in seeing the original drawings.
Signed " Seabra."
After a residence of some years in Portugal, Mur
phy returned to England, where he entered into corre
spondence with the Admiralty on a subject which has
recently engaged much of the public attention, name
ly, the means of preventing dry-rot ; and his plans
appear to have received much consideration from
that Board ; but the terms insisted upon by Murphy
tended to delay the necessary experiments, until his
death, which occurred in Edward-street, Cavendish-
square, on the 12th of September, 1814, put an end
to the negotiation, and frustrated the developement of
his invention, whatever it might have been. It would
seem, from some memoranda discovered among his
papers, that his attention was attracted to the subject
when in Portugal, by the circumstance that those ves
sels that had received salt for their first cargo were
free from that disease which has so long baffled the
endeavours of the scientific to cure.
Murphy, although a Catholic, did not give his un
qualified approbation of monastic establishments ; for,
in the unpublished portion of his journal, he says, with
reference to Batalha, " The mass-friars have nothing
to do but to eat and drink, saunter about, or sleep.
The prior is a plain homely kind of man, distinguished

JAMES CAVENAGH MURPHY. 143
from the rest only by a small black cap, and the privi
lege of wearing a dirty face. What a pity it is to
see so many stout fellows leading a life of indolence
and sloth, that might be of service in cultivating the
land, in feeding the poor, and enriching or defending
their country."
Independently of his works on Portugal, Mr. Mur
phy published the Arabian Antiquities of Spain, in
large folio ; the first volume containing nearly one
hundred engravings illustrative of the Alhambra.
In taking our leave of Coimbra, we must not omit
to mention the old cathedral, [Se Velha,] an idea of
the external architecture of which will be gathered
from the engraving given in this volume. The inte
rior of the edifice is very curious, it being lined, from
floor to roof, with Dutch tiles, presenting a variety of
subjects, painted in blue and purple.

1 44 POMBAL.

CHAPTER V.
POMBAL.
Condeixa — Pombal — The Marquis of Pombal and his Times —
Earthquake of 1755 — Conspiracy and dreadful Doom of the
Conspirators — The Jesuits — State of the Portuguese Army —
Riot at Oporto — Military Services of St. Antony — Romantic
Incident.
Leaving Coimbra, we pursued our way to Condeixa,
the road being remarkable for the luxuriance and
abundance of the heath, the fragrance of which is de
lightful. We must not omit to notice the grasshop
pers which in some places almost cover the ground,
and the noise produced by their chirping is wonderful.
At Condeixa we found some vestiges of " the Great
Marquis," as Pombal is still styled in many parts of
Portugal. These vestiges consist in the buildings of
the town, the domestic architecture of which appeared
to us to be finer than any thing of the kind in the
country, not excepting Lisbon. Among the works
which emanated from Pombal is a bishop's palace,
which is in ruins ; but enough remains to show the
fineness of the architecture.
From Condeixa we proceeded to Pombal, which lies
in a fine valley. It had once a castle, but it is now
reduced to a mere wall. It has also some churches,

'.li VEIL HI A., Offi. ©UBS CATHIEJp.lE|A]L.. GAO

ENTOMOLOGY.  MARQUIS OF POMBAL. 145
but they are all in a state of decay. The inhabitants
are few, and with the single exception of the miller,
extremely poor.
While we were halting at Pombal, the weather be
ing very hot, we felt disposed for a sesta, but were
unable to procure any place of rest but a sort of loft,
to which we accordingly retired. We had scarcely
composed ourselves for a doze, before we began to
find that the fleas had discovered the presence of a
thin-skinned Englishman. The very knowledge of
being in such company was enough to preclude the
possibility of sleeping, to say nothing of their unspar
ing personal attacks ; so that we were glad to escape
from such uncourteous neighbours, and pretermit our
sesta until it could be courted under more propitious
circumstances. While on the subject of entomology,
we cannot help adverting to another annoyance which
the traveller will not fail to experience, if he should
be rash enough to take a seat on the lap of his mo
ther earth, — namely, the black ants, which are very
numerous, and bite like furies.
Intimately connected as was the Marquis of Pom
bal with the history, and, we may add, the destiny of
Portugal, both for evil and for good, we need make no
apology for here introducing a brief sketch of his Life
and Times, particularly as such a subject would seem
to belong to the town whence he derived his title, and
whither he retired from public life, and where also he
ended his days.
Sebastian Joseph de Carvalho, although born of
parents who were in narrow circumstances, was of a
L

146 POMBAL A CORPORAL.  HIS MARRIAGE.
noble family. He was the son of Emanuel de Car-
valho, and the nephew of Paul de Carvalho, the latter
of whom ranked high among the dignitaries of the
church, and had even been nominated a cardinal by
Pope Ganganelli, but died before he could be invested
with the honours of the scarlet hat. Emanuel, through
the influence of his brother, obtained in marriage
Donna Teresa de Mendoza, a lady of illustrious birth,
who was the mother of Sebastian.
Sebastian was originally intended for the law, and
was accordingly placed in the college of Coimbra to
pursue his studies for that profession, for which,
however, he very early conceived a disgust, and deter
mined on relinquishing it in favour of arms. It is
probable that his predilection was not sanctioned by
his family, since it is commonly believed that he
entered the service as a private soldier, and subse
quently attained the rank of a corporal. He then
appears to have married a widow, probably a family
connexion, for her name was Mendoza. He shortly
afterwards quitted a service, in which he found pro
motion so slow, and we next find him at Soure, the
place of his nativity, in the district of Coimbra.
Poverty, or a " truant disposition," led him once
more, in quest of fortune, to Lisbon ; where, through
the good offices of his uncle the ecclesiastic, he was
introduced to the Cardinal de Motta, who had con
siderable interest with John V., the reigning king.
It is probable, that having once been brought within
the purlieus of the court, his commanding person, —
for he was of gigantic stature, and of a singularly

POMBAL AN ENVOY  A SECRETARY OF STATE. 117
marked and imposing countenance, — attracted the at
tention of the monarch, whose confidence he rapidly
acquired; for it was not long ere he obtained the
appointment of envoy extraordinary to the British
court. A man of Carvalho's shrewd and observant mind
must have been greatly struck by the contrast between
the court of London and his own ; and there is little
reason to doubt that his six years' residence in Eng
land inspired him with those notions of policy and
government, which he endeavoured, — and in many
instances successfully, — to carry out upon his final
return to his native country. Recalled from England,
he was despatched on a special mission to Vienna,
where, having become a widower, his ambition was
gratified by an alliance with the Countess Daun, a
favourite of his own queen, who was of the house of
Austria. This alliance, however, tended little to his advance
ment in the good graces of his sovereign, who was of
an indolent turn, and not disposed to lend himself to
those sweeping changes which Carvalho, actuated by
his newly imported notions, displayed an inclination
to effect. It would appear, too, that he met with con
siderable opposition from the Jesuits, to whom, from
that moment, he conceived an implacable hatred, as
was sufficiently proved by his subsequent persecu
tion of that singular order.
On the death of John V., Carvalho succeeded in
ingratiating himself with his successor Joseph, and
having been appointed secretary of state for the
l2

148 DIFFICULTIES OF POMBAL's POSITION.
foreign department, a wide field was opened for his
ambitious and daring spirit. If by a sanguinary dis
position it is intended to describe a person delighting
to shed blood, I believe and hope that such characters
have been and are very rare ; but I can conceive, —
for history has afforded us but too many instances, —
a heart so hardened by ambition as to become capa
ble of any outrage, however cruel. Now Carvalho,
if he was not by nature cruel, was hard, stern, and
unyielding, and held human life cheap when weighed
against his ambition, policy, or revenge. That much
of the harshness exhibited by this minister sprang
from a zeal for the reformation of his degraded coun
try, and the necessity of striking examples, cannot
be denied. Surrounded by a turbulent populace, a
profligate priesthood, and a corrupt court, he had a
difficult part to play ; and that, upon many important
and trying occasions, he acquitted himself in a man
ner which proved him to be not only the greatest
man of his nation, but half a century in advance of
it in mind and intellect, is admitted even by his
enemies. Carvalho had not long attained the height of his
power, before a calamity, compared with which the
ravages of war and pestilence are slow and merciful,
occurred to call forth all the energy and sternness of
his character. On the 1st of November, 1755, when,
it being a solemn festival, the inhabitants were assem
bled by thousands in the churches of Lisbon, that
city was visited by an earthquake, the most awful and
destructive upon record. Temple, tower, and palace,

EARTHQUAKE. — POMBAL's STERN JUSTICE. 149
— nay, whole streets, — came toppling down, scattering
death and desolation on every hand. The dust flung
up by the ruins spread a cloud of impenetrable dark
ness between earth and sky, until the conflagration,
created by the tapers in the churches and the fires in
the houses, threw a fearful light upon the scene of
devastation ; while the shrieks of despair and the
groans of the dying, and other horrors of the hour,
converted the once flourishing city into pandemo
nium. All who could, fled from the scene, and took refuge
in the neighbouring fields and mountains, where they
remained, under such shelter as they could construct
or nature afforded, for more than a fortnight, during
which period the shocks continued, though with dimi
nished violence. Some, however, as in the case of
Pompeii, who had escaped in the first instance, re
turned in quest of the treasures they had left behind,
and found — in lieu of them — a grave !
Nor was the resemblance of the scene to pandemo
nium diminished by the desperate daring of many
who hovered over the devoted city, — sailors, galley-
slaves, and malefactors from the jails, — plundering in
every direction, and murdering all who resisted.
But here was an occasion on which the genius of
Carvalho displayed itself. Where all was terror, con
fusion, and disorder, Carvalho was calm. True it is,
that some of the measures he adopted on this emer
gency partook of his recklessness and disregard of
human life. He posted soldiers at each avenue from
the city, and any fugitive who could not establish his

150 POMBAL's PRUDENT MEASURES.
right to the property he carried with him, was instantly
put to death. Gibbets were erected round the city,
and it was not until three hundred and fifty of these
ruthless and sanguinary depredators were hung up in
terrorem, that the work of plunder was stayed. The
measure was a stern and fearful one, but the emer
gency was almost without a parallel in modern history.
Order having been thus restored, Carvalho turned
his attention to the survivors of this dreadful cala
mity, and every measure which policy, prudence, or
foresight could dictate, was adopted for their relief.
The exportation of com was at once prohibited ; and
all kinds of provisions were admitted without exaction
of the duty heretofore paid. Indeed, so marked and
zealous were the minister's exertions on this trying
and awful occasion, that the people, grateful for once,
acknowledged in him their benefactor and preserver.
No man, however, had greater reason than had he, in
after life, to cry out upon
" The fickle reek of popular applause."
Carvalho's old enemies, the Jesuits, were not lax
in their endeavours to turn the recent calamity to ac
count, by representing it to the king as a judgment
upon the city for the toleration and liberality displayed
to heretics, and which, not without reason, they attri
buted to the counsels of the minister. Among the
most active of the Jesuits on this occasion, was an
Italian, named Malagrida, who had a great reputation
for sanctity with his order, and whom, as the sequel
will show, Carvalho neither forgot nor forgave for his
interference. The minister, however, proved himself

QUARRELS WITH THE JESUITS AND NOBILITY. 151
too powerful for his antagonists ; and the result was,
that he gained a more complete ascendancy over his
royal master's mind than ever.
Carvalho discovered, very soon after his appoint
ment as secretary for foreign affairs, a disposition to
curtail the power of the church, particularly as ex
ercised by the Inquisition; as an instance of which,
it is on record that, in consequence of some dispute,
he ordered the inquisitor-general and his brother, —
though near relatives of the king, — to be cast into
prison. On the occasion of a subsequent dispute with
the king's confessor, — a Jesuit, — the latter haughtily
bade the minister to look to himself, for that his order
never died. On which Carvalho pledged him his
honour that it should die, — as far as its influence in
Portugal was concerned, — and it will be shown that
he kept his word to the letter.
Among the evils which pressed hard upon the lower
classes of the Portuguese, was the power possessed,
and tyrannically exercised by the nobility, whose arro
gance Carvalho determined to curb ; and accordingly
arjplied himself to put them down with a strong hand.
He set on foot a rigid inquiry into the nature of the
tenure of their estates, many of which he knew con
sisted of crown lands, which had been alienated by
the indulgence of preceding kings; and thus it hap
pened that, in the issue, many of the most wealthy
nobles were greatly shorn of their possessions and
power. The enmity of the whole nobility, — particu
larly of those who were thus despoiled, — was arrayed
against him ; but he heeded it not, and finally trium-

152 CONSPIRACY AGAINST THE KING.
phed, although not without some personal hazard ;
thus the Marquis de Menas, a general in the Portu
guese service, made an attempt upon his life. It is,
however, related, that on forcing open the door of the
minister's carriage, with the view to assassinate him,
he was so much overawed by Carvalho's stern look
and imposing figure, that he relinquished his design.
The conspiracy against the life of the king gave
occasion for another instance of his minister's im
mitigable severity. It is true that death has, by the
common consent of nations, been awarded as the
punishment of treason; but nothing can justify the
added tortures which marked the execution of the
criminals in the instance referred to, nor the long
imprisonment to which persons merely suspected of
being involved in the conspiracy were condemned.
The parties chiefly implicated, or at least accused of
participating in the plot, were the Duke d'Aveiro, the
Tavora family, and the Jesuits. Whatever might be
the extent of their guilt, all Europe shuddered at the
account of the punishment with which it was visited.
After having been confined, without any distinction
as to rank, age, or sex, in narrow cells, formerly ap
propriated to the purposes of a menagerie, and with
nothing but straw upon which to lie, the captives
several times underwent the torture, and were after
wards sentenced, — the men to be broken on the wheel
or burnt alive, and the Marchioness of Tavora, as a
special indulgence, to be beheaded. The sentence
was carried into execution at Belem, on a scaffold
raised on the bank of the Tagus, in the presence of an

DREADFUL DOOM OF THE CRIMINALS. 153
immense assemblage of persons. The prisoners were
brought out, one by one : first of all, the marchio
ness, in the attire in which she had been appre
hended, she having just then risen from her bed. She
was firm, and resigned to her fate. The executioner,
in binding her feet, inadvertently disarranged her gar
ments, when she exclaimed, " Remember who I am,
and respect me even in death." The man dropped
on his knees and implored forgiveness ; when, instantly
relenting, she added, drawing a ring from her finger,
" Take this ; it is all that is left to me of a vain world :
take it, and do your duty." She received the fatal
stroke, her head sank upon her bosom, and she was a
corpse. Her two young sons were the next victims ;
and an interval of half an hour, by a refinement of
cruelty, being suffered to elapse between each execu
tion, the Duke d'Aveiro closed the train. He was
bareheaded, and, like the marchioness, suffered in the
dress in which he was taken, which was his morning
gown. The shrieks extorted by his exquisite and
prolonged tortures, struck horror into the multitude.
A servant, implicated in the plot, was fastened to a
gibbet on the platform, and, when the rest of the vic
tims had suffered before his eyes, he, together with
the scaffold, wheels, and other instruments of death,
was burnt to ashes, which were flung into the river.
The habitations of the conspirators, — from the palace
to the cottage, — were razed to the ground, and their
sites strewn with salt.
Carvalho, it is said, was not satisfied with these ex
amples, and would have added to their number; but

151 WHIMSICAL REVENGE.
the king peremptorily interfered, and declared that
enough blood had been shed. The minister, however,
on being remonstrated with on the subject, is reported
to have said, that if he had done his duty on the oc
casion referred to, the streets of Lisbon would have
run with the blood of her nobility.
Carvalho had never forgotten his old grudge against
the Jesuits, and the conspiracy aimed at the life of
the king did not pass by him unimproved. Whether
with justice or not, it is not our province, nor is it
within our power, to determine ; but no sooner were
the executions on the principal conspirators over, than
he accused the Jesuits of being implicated in the
transaction. Accordingly, he addressed a strong re
presentation to the Pope (Clement XIII.) upon the
subject ; but that pontiff remained firm in his protec
tion of the order. Carvalho, however, was not to be
turned from his purpose ; and the manner in which
he revenged himself, not only upon the Jesuits, but
upon the Pope himself, was almost as whimsical as it
was effectual. He shipped off, in successive cargoes,
all the Jesuits upon whom he could lay his hands,
and had them landed in the papal dominions, to the
no small mortification of the brethren, and the great
perplexity of his holiness, who was utterly incapable
of providing for them.
A rupture with the court of Rome was the natural
consequence, and was followed by an act of cruelty on
the part of Carvalho, for which his warmest advocates
cannot advance the shadow of an apology. The Jesuit
Malagrida, who had already incurred his enmity, was

POMBAL S CRUELTY.  REFIIACTORY PAYMASTER. 155
imprisoned at the time of the conspiracy of 1 759 ; and
in 1761 he was charged, at the instigation of Carvalho,
before the Inquisition, not of a participation in the
plot against the king, but of having written some
heretical books, which, in point of fact, were a fan-ago
of nonsense worthy only of a smile. The result was,
that the poor old man, at the age of seventy-three,
was condemned to be burnt at one of those disgraceful
and barbarous exhibitions, an auto-da-fe, which Car
valho himself had at one time discountenanced and
almost suppressed. The wretched man obtained a
commutation of his sentence, and, instead of being
burnt alive, was strangled before his funeral pyre was
lighted. Carvalho does not appear to much advantage in the
character of a war minister, for which his peculiarly
bold, hard, and uncompromising spirit would seem
to have fitted him. Some ludicrous instances of the
state of the Portuguese army during his administra
tion are on record ; take the following :
An Irish officer in the Portuguese service, of the
name of Macilphan, on being appointed to a command,
waited upon the paymaster-general with an order for
subsistence for his detachment. That functionary,
whose name was Durao, an insolent and overbearing
person, bade the colonel wait; upon which the latter
represented that, as his detachment had been ordered
on service, it was necessary that immediate attention
should be paid to his application. Durao rejoined,
that he had business of greater importance upon his
hands, and that the colonel should receive the money

156 A NARROW ESCAPE.
he wanted at the same time that the rest ofthe Spa
nish deserters were paid ; alluding to Macilphan's
having quitted the Spanish service, which, truth to
say, was marvellously like desertion, with, however,
this difference, that the colonel owed allegiance to
neither party. Upon this, Macilphan flew into a most
unofficer-like passion, and drawing a pistol from
his belt, placed it to Durao's forehead, and without
further ceremony drew the trigger. Happily for this
paragon of paymasters, the pistol missed fire, but he
dropped under the table overcome by consternation,
and a great uproar ensued. The colonel immediately
repaired to his commanding officer, the Count La
Lippe, who, on hearing the affair, expressed his regret
that the pistol had not taken effect ; upon which
Macilphan, with commendable alacrity, assured the
count that he had another pistol in his belt, and
would instantly return and give the paymaster his
quietus. To this, however, the count, who had
thought better of the matter, refused to assent, but
sent an aide-de-camp with the colonel to enforce obe
dience from the refractory functionary.
Pombal's conduct with regard to the army appears
to have been marked by great inconsistencies, which
necessarily militated against all order and discipline.
On one occasion, a chaplain and two subalterns had
got up a conspiracy against their commanding officer,
from whom they obtained permission to go to Lis
bon, in order, as it afterwards appeared, to lay their
complaints before the minister. Pombal heard their
story, and having, after a careful investigation, ascer-

STATE OF THE ARMY. 157
tained its falsehood, sent their commanding officer
orders to break the whole three. The colonel, al
though aggrieved, felt the impropriety of so sum
mary a proceeding, and suggested to Pombal that the
offenders should be brought to a court-martial, but
the minister would not hear of it.
On the other hand, we find that courts-martial with
out number were held, and sentences were forwarded
to the minister for confirmation; but Pombal rarely
looked at'any of them, and thus it happened that the
culprits remained for years in prison waiting the deci
sion of the minister, and many of them were not re
leased until the death of the reigning monarch, and
consequent removal of Pombal from office and power.
It is further stated, that very many regiments in the
service were without a captain, others without a field-
officer; and that a very large proportion of the native
officers had been menial servants of the more influ
ential nobility. It is related that La Lippe, having
been invited to an entertainment given by one of the
secretaries of state, was surprised to find the table
surrounded by footmen in military uniform. Nor was
the condition of the private soldiers at all out of keep
ing with that of the officers who commanded them.
Baretti says, " I am told the troops kept up in this
kingdom amount to no more than eight thousand;
and if the private men are all like those whom I have
seen at Estremoz and Lisbon, there is no where in
Europe an equal number that look so wretchedly.
The greater part of them are absolutely in rags and
patches ; and in Lisbon many of them asked my cha-

158 POMBAL'S DEATH.  HIS COMMERCIAL POLICY.
rity, not only in the streets, but even where they stood
sentinels." Carvalho was created Count d'Oeyras in 1759, and
in 1 770 Marquis of Pombal. On the death of King
Joseph, in the beginning of the year 1777, Pombal
lost his power for ever, yet he retained office for
some months ofthe new reign. But although his ene
mies were on the ascendant, his dismissal from office
was unaccompanied by any marks of disgrace. On
the contrary, a considerable pension was granted to
him, and he was allowed to retire to his estate at
Pombal, whither he was escorted by a royal guard
of honour.
He appears to have spent the remainder of his life
in peace, and to have devoted himself to pious exer
cises until his death, at the age of eighty-three, on
the 5th of May, 1782.
In matters affecting the trade ofthe country, Car
valho, whatever judgment may beibrmed of the wis
dom of his measures, appears to have interfered with
the vigour and decision which distinguished him upon
so many other occasions. He aimed a severe' blow
at the English merchants at Oporto, by establishing
a Port Wine Company, closing the market to every
other bidder until that body had completed their pur
chases. The effect of this was to exclude the English
merchant, whose competition had previously secured
a higher price to the wine growers. The result was
an insurrectionary movement, in obedience to which
the chief magistrate, called the Judge of the People,
declared against the new company, and the populace

If

\

ariEW S1REKT ©IF TM HHGILIISM.

Xonaon, Published Oct.2e,1838,"by Robed. Jennra.(3fc A C° 62 y Cheapside

MILITARY SAINT. 159
of Oporto plundered the houses of those whom they
suspected of favouring its establishment. Carvalho,
however, on hearing of the disturbance, distributed
three regiments at free quarters on the inhabitants ;
caused the Judge of the People to be dragged , with a
halter on his neck, through the streets by the hang
man ; and seized three hundred of the rioters, of whom
he put eighteen to death, and consigned the remainder
either to the galleys or to prison.
Some idea of the gross ignorance and superstition
which disgraced Portugal at the period of Carvalho's
administration may be gathered from the statement of
an English officer, who then held a commission in the
Portuguese army : " There is not a regiment here,"
says he, " which has not long ago put itself under the
protection of some particular saint, as their devotion
or attachment dictates to them : and when this regi
ment I now command was first formed, about a hun
dred years ago, it took St. Antony of Lisbon for its
patron and protector, who soon after obtained a
captain's commission in the same, and has received
the appointments regularly ever since ! which are em
ployed, — as well as two-pence per month paid by every
individual of the regiment, — in saying a stated number
of masses for the souls of all those of it who die, in
celebrating the festival of the saint, in supporting the
chaplains, adorning the chapel, and defraying other
incidental charges, under the inspection of an officer
of the regiment appointed for that purpose ; and this
post of superintendent for St. Antony, the major
of our regiment, who is a nobleman (fidalgo) and a

160 POLITENESS OF ST. ANTONY.
blockhead, has occupied with great zeal and devo
tion for some years past, and has never since ceased
teasing the court with memorials and certificates of
service in favour of St. Antony, that he might be
promoted to the rank of aggregate-major in the
regiment." Pombal, however, was not a man to be imposed
upon by any such foolery, and is reported to have
laughed heartily at these pious and veracious memo
rials, and to have flung them aside with the contempt
they deserved.
The polite interference of St. Antony upon the
most trivial occasions, is also a subject of grave pane
gyric. The officer alluded to, Colonel Bagot, refers
to several certificates in his possession, which go to
prove the urbanity of the saint. For instance, " he
restored a favourite lap-dog to the major's lady, which
had been stolen from her, and which she had de
spaired of ever seeing again, till her father-director
advised her to importune St. Antony, which she had
not done for above two days, when the dog was
brought back to her : " whether by St. Antony in
person, the legend saith not.
The following certificate of the superintendent of
St. Antony, under the major's hand and seal, is a
document curious in its way, which, in spite of the
melancholy ignorance it exhibits, would extract a smile
from the sternest of stoics. It is given, as a trans
lation, as close to the original as the idioms of the two
languages will permit :
" Don Hercules Antonio Carlos Suiz Joseph Maria

MILITARY SERVICES OF ST. ANTONY. 161
de Albuquerque e Araujo de Magalhaens Homem,
nobleman of her majesty's household, knight of the
sacred order of St. John of Jerusalem, and of the most
illustrious military order of Christ, lord of the dis
tricts and towns of Moncarapacho and Terragudo,
hereditary Alcaide Mor of the city of Faro, major of
the regiment of infantry of the city of Lagos, in this
kingdom of Algarve, for her most faithful majesty,
whom God long preserve, etc. etc. etc.
" I attest and certify to all who shall see these pre
sents, written out by my command, and signed at
the bottom with my sign-manual, with the broad seal
of my arms close by my said signature and a little to
the left of it, that the Lord St. Antony, otherwise the
Great St. Antony of Lisbon, (commonly and falsely
called of Padua,) has been enlisted and had a place in
this regiment ever since the 24th of January, of the
year of our Lord Jesus Christ 1668, as will appear
more particularly below : I further attest that the
fifty-nine within certificates, numbered from unity up
to the number fifty-nine, and with the cypher of my
name set close by each number, do contain and com
prehend a true and faithful relation of the miracles
and other eminent services the said St. Antony has at
different times rendered to and performed in this re
giment, in consequence of his having a place in it ;
wherein, besides many other incontestible evidences,
I am confirmed by having conversed with many of the
parties now alive who received these services from the
said saint ; that, therefore, to doubt of the veracity of
these miracles, is as heinous a crime against the Holy
M

162 ST. ANTONY A PRIVATE SOLDIER.
Ghost, as to doubt of any of the dogmas of our holy
faith, or of the miracles of Christ himself, the evi
dences whereof are not so strong and convincing as
those in the present instance before us ; and by which
our blessed Saviour's own words are fulfilled, when he
told his disciples that ' After me shall come those who
shall do greater works than I have done,' which pro
phecy clearly pointed to our great St. Antony. I do
further certify, upon my word of honour, as a no
bleman, a knight, and a Catholic Christian, (as with
God's grace I am,) what hereunder follows: That
having read over and perused attentively all the papers,
note-books, and registers of our regiment, ever since
its first formation, and having carefully copied, out
of the said papers, every thing relating to the above-
named St. Antony, it is, de verbo ad verbum, what
follows here; for the truth of which, I refer to the
said books and papers lodged in the archives of our
regiment. " That on the 24th of January, 1668, by order of
his majesty Don Pedro the Second, (whom God has
in glory,) then prince regent of the kingdom of Por
tugal, directed to the viceroy of the kingdom of
Algarve, was St. Antony enlisted as a private soldier
in this regiment of infantry of Lagos, when it was
first formed by command of the same prince ; and of
such enlistment of St. Antony there was a register
formed, which now exists in the first volume of the
register-book of the regiment, fol. 143; and wherein
he gave for his caution and surety the Queen of
Angels, who became answerable that he would not

ST. ANTONY PROMOTED. 163
desert his colours,* but behave always like a good
soldier in the regiment ; and thus did the saint continue
to serve and do duty as a private in the regiment till
September the 12th, 1683, on which day the same
prince regent became King of Portugal by the decease
of his brother Don Alfonso the Sixth ; and on the same
day his majesty promoted St. Antony to the rank of
captain in the regiment, for having a short time
before valiantly put himself at the head of a detach
ment of the regiment which was marching from Juru-
menha to the garrison of Olivenca, both in the pro
vince of the Alentejo, and beat off a strong body of
Castilians four times the number of said detachment,
which body had been set in ambush for them, with
the intention of carrying them all prisoners to Bada-
jos, the enemy having, by their spies, obtained infor
mation of their march.
" I do further certify, that in all the above papers
and registers there is not any note of St. Antony of
bad behaviour or irregularity committed by him, nor
of his having ever been flogged, imprisoned, or any
way punished by his officers while private in the regi
ment. That during the whole time he has been a
captain, now near a hundred years, he has constantly
done his duty with the greatest alacrity at the head of
his company upon all occasions, in peace and war,
* According to the custom of the time in Portugal, a recruit
was required to find some responsible person, who bound him
self to answer for the good and soldierly behaviour of the
said recruit, and in the event of desertion, to provide a substitute.
The recruits were composed of " the sons of merchants, trades
men, peasants, etc. etc."
M 2

164 A CONJURER.
and as such has been seen by his soldiers times with
out number, as they are all ready to testify, and in
every other respect he has always behaved like a gen
tleman and an officer ; and on all the above-mentioned
accounts, I hold him most worthy and deserving of
the rank of aggregate-major to our regiment, and of
every other honour, grace, or favour her majesty shall
be graciously pleased to bestow upon him.
"In testimony whereof, I have hereto signed my
name, this 25th day of March, of the year of our Lord
Jesus Christ 1777. (L. S.) Magalhaens Homem."
The following anecdote will serve to show that,
however Pombal may have used the Inquisition for
his own purposes, his control of it was often whole
somely exercised, and also that, blind, ignorant, and
bigoted as the officials of that terrible tribunal ge
nerally were, there were some honourable exceptions.
It happened that the British consul was a man fond
of experimental philosophy, and was wont to exhibit
a camera-obscura, as well as some applications of
electricity, to his friends. These recreations, it seems,
had procured him more than one visit from the com
missaries of the Inquisition of Coimbra, which, how
ever, was not followed by any disagreeable results.
An electrical experiment, made during a thunder
storm, at length attracted the notice of the populace,
and confirmed them in the opinion that the consul
was a conjurer. The affair made some noise, and a
domiciliary visit was the consequence. Both the
commissaries, however, were, as the narrative informs

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. 165"
us, "men of some candour and reflection, who, com
paring the consul's established virtuous character with
such a black accusation, could not help thinking it
absurd ; and what was, perhaps, no less fortunate for
the consul, their visit happened at a time when the
Inquisition, being entirely under the control of the
Marquis of Pombal, durst not take any step without
his express permission." The consul received their
visit respectfully ; entertained them very politely, and
having explained to them the whole process of his
experiments, the nature and qualities of fire, in a phi
losophical manner, but in terms which they readily
comprehended, he sent them away not only satisfied
of his innocence, but greatly enraged at the ridiculous
accusation of their ignorant countrymen.
We cannot close our notice of this celebrated mi
nister without quoting a somewhat romantic story, in
which the destiny of two lovers appears to have been
placed in his hands. The narrative is somewhat lengthy
in the original, but the following are the main facts
of the case. The hero, a Brigadier Forbes, then hold
ing a command in the Portuguese army, fell despe
rately in love with a young lady, of one of the first
families in the country, whom he accidentally met at
the Opera. He had no means at the time of apprizing
the damsel of the conquest she had made, a cir
cumstance which caused him considerable uneasiness.
Nor did he find consolation in the fact, which he
afterwards heard, of her being already engaged to
marry the heir of another high and wealthy family.
Her mother, it seems, had contrived to set aside the

166 LUNACY CURED BY LAW.
claims of her son to the patrimonial estate, by what was
equivalent to a statute of lunacy in our day ; nor does it
appear that this proceeding was adopted on any other
than perfectly just grounds: the youth seems to have
been a confirmed idiot.
The brigadier, however, although denied any di
rect communication with the maiden, must have made
good use of his eyes ; for from the moment of seeing
him, she withdrew her tacit consent to wed the heir of
Almada, who, if the picture drawn of him by his rival
may be at all relied on, was any thing but an Adonis,
nor do his personal obliquities appear to have been
compensated by either accomplishments or virtues.
His family, as well as the young lady's, was very
powerful, and adopted the most unjustifiable means
to verify the adage, that the " course of true love
never did run smooth." The maiden's amiable pa
rent, who had proved to the satisfaction of a court
of justice that her son was " of unsound mind, and
incapable of managing his affairs," now contrived, by
the aid of some honest lawyers and her family in
fluence, to prove in the same court that he was fit to
manage, not only his affairs, but — hic labor, hoc opus
est — a wife, which, his wealth rather than his brains
being considered, was speedily obtained for him.
Thus the lady-mother revenged herself upon her
daughter's disobedience, and, as she thought, removed
the bait which had attracted the brigadier.
The gallant soldier, however, seems to have been a
man of another mould, and resolved to vindicate him
self from the accusation of the lady's friends that he

UNEQUAL COMBAT. 167
was a mercenary adventurer. He accordingly set
about the affair in earnest, and in order to prove that
he was — at least now that the lady was penniless — an
equal match for her, he procured from France, as well
as from his own country, (wherever that might be),
certificates that he was of good family, and moreover
an exemplary Catholic. Brandishing these formidable
documents, the brigadier deemed himself invulnerable,
and bade defiance to his detractors, who, thus foiled
in their object, had recourse to the more summary
and , in Portugal, most approved means of redress — the
dagger; and, accordingly, our hero was "set upon"
one night as he quitted the Opera. Unit as he was,
however, he proved too many for his assailants, one
of whom, like a discreet person, took to his heels, and
the other the brigadier, to use his own expression,
" pinned to the wall," — whether through the body or
the button-hole he does not condescend to explain.
The villain proved to be a servant of the Almada
family, and the affair made such a noise, that even
Portuguese justice, roused from her accustomed nap,
shook her ears most portentously, and the matter was
investigated. After a world of inquiry and no incon
siderable waste of words and time, the ecclesiastical
court came to the solemn resolution of asking the
young lady a question, which they might as well have
propounded to her in the first instance, namely, " Was
it her wish, desire, and intention to marry the briga
dier ?" The fair damsel's reply was such as to convince
the court that her resolution was taken, and the whole
conclave of cardinals was not likely to divert her from

168 FEMALE PERSEVERANCE.
it. Accordingly, their reverences, with a discretion
which cannot be sufficiently commended, relieved her
mother of a somewhat anxious charge, and placed the
young lady under the care of a " lady of reputation,"
where she was to remain until the marriage could be
arranged. It was in this position of affairs that our
hero appears, for the first time, to have enjoyed an
opportunity of conversing with his inamorata.
The lady-mother, however, — commend us to a wo
man for perseverance ! — was not to be put down by a
bench of old women, such as she deemed the judges
of the ecclesiastical court, and resolved, at all hazards
and at any sacrifice of dignity and decorum, to pre
vent the obnoxious marriage. She was well aware of
the influence of her own family, and that it had been
greatly augmented by the recent marriage of her hope
ful son, and determined on a direct and personal
appeal to the Marquis of Pombal. Accordingly, she
presented herself at the minister's palace, and solicited
an audience. Carvalho, with all his faults, and they
were not a few, was a man of business, and not having
a superabundance of time upon his hands, was not
particularly pleased at the intrusion. He knew the
eloquence of the sex, and, like most men of his stern
and peremptory character, hated circumlocution above
all things. However, he could not refuse an audience
to such an applicant, and she was admitted.
The lady flung herself upon her knees at the feet
of the minister, and poured forth the history of her
wrongs with art energy and volubility worthy of her
sex, and when she had exhausted her vocabulary or

A FRUITLESS APPEAL. 169
her breath, she, of course, burst into a passionate flood
of tears.
Carvalho, among other qualifications of a thorough
going despot, had a heart of stone, and his face was of
the same material, for not a muscle of it moved during
the old gentlewoman's harangue. It is proper, per
haps, to mention, that she both hated and despised the
marquis, and he knew it.
" It would seem, then," said the minister, " that the
young lady has expressed her determination to marry
the brigadier, and you think she will adhere to her
resolution ?"
" Most obstinately, senhor," was the reply.
" Then," rejoined the marquis, " I know enough of
the brigadier to assure you, that he will as obstinately
adhere to his, and therefore I see not that I can help
you. What would you have me do ? "
" Place the brigadier under restraint, senhor, until
he renounces his designs," benevolently suggested the
supplicant. " Nay," responded Carvalho, " if I imprison the
lover, I must in common justice mete the same mea
sure to the damsel, for it passes my discernment to
discover any difference in their offence."
" Banish the brigadier from Lisbon, then," said
the lady.
" I may not do that," objected the minister; " he is
a good and gallant officer, and the state cannot afford
to lose his services, to say nothing of the injustice of
such a proceeding. Be advised, therefore, and submit
patiently to an evil, — if evil it be, — which you cannot

170 LATE REPENTANCE.
remedy; for I tell you, once for all, that until the
young lady herself declares her dissent to the match,
I cannot advise his majesty to interfere."
Thus ended the conference, and the young people
were married. Twelve months had not elapsed, how
ever, before the maternal feelings of the old lady re
sumed their power, and she became as anxious to be
reconciled to her daughter, as she had before been to
prevent her union ; while she bitterly, but in vain,
lamented her folly in promoting her son's marriage,
and thus precluding her daughter's children from any
participation in the family estate.
Pombal's conduct, in thus refusing to gratify a
powerful family at the expense of the happiness of
two amiable persons, contrasts strongly with the last
act of his ministry, which, when the king his master
was upon his death-bed, was to marry the presumptive
heir of the crown, a boy of sixteen, to his own aunt,
who was upwards of thirty.

LEIRIA. 171

CHAPTER VI.

LEIRIA.

Leiria — The Cathedral — Fair — Castle of Leiria — A Family
Picture — Don Miguel's Chair — The Maid of Leiria — Depar
ture — Interview with Saldanha.
Leiria is seated on a plain between the rivers Lis
and Lena. It is said to have been built by Sertorius
seventy-five years before Christ. It was the seat of
government in the time of the Romans, when Lusi
tania was in their hands. Murphy, in his MS. Journal,
speaks of Leiria as being in his time famous for its
bull-fights, " the emoluments of which," he says, "go to
the cathedral, where they are piously laid out in plas
tering every stock and stone with massy gold : this,"
doubtless meaning the cathedral, " I think, is the ug
liest piece of modern architecture I ever saw, and a
lasting monument of the depraved taste and ignorance
of the architect." He adds, that " the site of the
cathedral was formerly a rock, which they removed
by lighting a great fire on its top, and when made very
hot, throwing water on it, which, I am informed, was
the manner the antients raised stones in their quarries,
instead of blasting them with gunpowder as we do."
In the same MS. Murphy says, " There is a great

172 SCENES AT THE FAIR.
annual fair held at Leiria, in the month of April, where
all kinds of wearing apparel are sold. 'Tis incredible
what a quantity of English cloths are to be seen here,
with cutlery and hardware of every kind. The prin
cipal manufactures of Portugal sold here are gold
necklaces, crosses, and ear-pendants, which even the
poorest females wear, though very often accompanied
with bare feet and tattered petticoats.
" A French tooth-drawer seemed to me the most
ingenious fellow in the fair : he was elevated about
five feet from the ground upon a table, with a trum
pet round his neck, and a chain five or six feet long
of prodigious large ill-formed teeth. I was present
while he drew about a dozen, which he performed in
less than two minutes, for which he received a vintin
a-piece. He seemed to have little or no trouble in
this operation ; they came out to him almost at a call.
" A piper played here upon the bagpipes, much
like the Scotch instruments. With his mouth he blew
a great quantity of wind into a brown bag which was
under his arm, which communicated to a tube that
served as base. This instrument has a very different
effect on the minds of the Portuguese from that [which
it produces] on the Irish, for all who were hearkening
to the man were either asleep (!) or dozing. He
seemed very careless at pleasing others, so that it
tickled his own fancy, as his head and feet were in
motion all the time.
" Here were a number of people looking at two
peasants fighting with a long pole, which they usually
carry in their hands. It is generally about eight feet

-^rwf^

CASTLE OF LEIRIA. 173
long, and very unwieldy either in assailing or defence.
A stout black showed himself master of this kind of
fighting. The most dangerous manner of striking, is
with a lounge ofthe butt end."
On an eminence rising out of the plain, north-west of
the town, is the celebrated castle of Leiria, which was
the residence of Denis, surnamed the Husbandman. It
commands an extensive view of the beautiful scenery
by which it is surrounded. Murphy, in his MS. says,
that " Mr. Stephens informs him, that many of the
doors and windows of the castle have been taken from
an old ruin near Batalha, called Polipo, of which very
little remains at this day." In his printed work, how
ever, Murphy calls it Callipo, and goes on to show
that the name was given in honour of the Muse of
epic poetry.
At the entrance to the castle from the south-east,
are some tumular stones of white marble with red
veins, the inscriptions on which Mr. Kinsey has been
at considerable pains to decipher, and we will give
his translation of one :
SACRED TO THE MANES.
TO ALBUHAA,
THE DAUGHTER OF TITUS,
THE SON OP AVITUS,
THE MOTHER OF THE DUUMVIR.
TITUS AVITUS AVITIANUS
PROCURED THIS MONUMENT TO BE ERECTED.
There is another inscription purporting that Avitus,
the " prefect of the revenue in the corn department,"
procured that monument to be erected to his " three
most dutiful sons."

174 SUMMARY JUSTICE.
The castle is now, and has for some years, been a
ruin, but enough remains to show that it was ori
ginally a very splendid edifice. Of the general archi
tecture of the town, Mr. Kinsey remarks that it con
tains some " very interesting specimens, which, though
not Moorish perhaps, as reported, have strong claims,
nevertheless, upon our consideration for their anti
quity." The town has suffered greatly by the atrocious and
wanton devastation caused by the French, under Gene
rals Margaron and Loison.
Speaking of the valley of Leiria, Murphy says
the soil is so productive, that with little labour it
yields abundance of corn, grapes, and olives ; but
adds, " that with all these advantages the plough and
the loom are neglected." The magnificent pine forest
in tbe neighbourhood of Leiria is said to have been
planted by King Denis, and it is asserted has been the
means of arresting the advance of the sands upon the
fertile part of the country.
It was at Leiria that Wellington, when commanding
in the Peninsula, ordered three men, who were caught
in the fact of plundering the natives, to be hanged in
terrorem, — an act of summary justice which was im
peratively called for by the state of the country.
We were very fortunate in the quarters which we
obtained at Leiria, not as respects our locality, which
was in a narrow and dirty street called that of Miseri-
cordia, — almost every place in Portugal has a street of
that name, — but our apartment was spacious, cleanly,
and, what is rare in that country, free from those spe-

A FAMILY PICTURE. 175
cimens of entomology, which are best contemplated at
a distance. Our hosts, too, were remarkably civil and
attentive. Their occupation was the manufacture of
silk and silver tassels for necklaces, which are so
commonly worn by the peasantry of that part of the
country, who are better dressed than any we saw in
Portugal ; some of them having chains of gold passing
twice round their necks, and of a massiveness and
consequent value, which would cause a modern Eng
lish dandy to hide his diminished head.
The family with whom we took up our abode, con
sisted of a woman, somewhat advanced in years ; a
younger one, whom I understood to be her daughter ;
and a remarkably pretty, graceful, and modest girl of
about sixteen, who always addressed the elder of the
other two by the title of Madrinha, a word having
two meanings, — godmother and protectress : it is pro
bable that the good matron was both to the interesting
damsel. There was also an old woman, — no relation
to the rest I believe, — who might, as far as appearance
goes, have played one of the witches in Macbeth to
the life. Her name was Juana, and her occupation
was to tend the pigs in the field. The pigs of the
country, we should mention, are small in size, and
in colour generally black or blue. Of this sort of pig,
an old campaigner of our acquaintance, a follower
of the "glorious duke," speaks in terms of enthu
siasm, which none but a soldier who has paid a dol
lar for a single biscuit can understand. It happened
that after a long and fatiguing march, during which,
whether from the poverty of the country or the re-

176 BLACK GAME. — BEAN BROTH.
missness of the commissariat we know not, the detach
ment to which my friend belonged was reduced to
great straits in the way of provisions, the party found
themselves on the verge of a forest, which they saw,
to their great joy, abounded in these same black pigs.
Necessity, they say, owns no law, which must plead
the excuse of our Peninsular heroes for disregarding,
on this occasion, not merely forest laws, but it is
feared the laws of private property ; certain it is, that
the discovery was no sooner made, than the cracking
of muskets was heard in every direction, and in an
incredibly short space of time certain goodly chops,
spitted upon ramrods, were roasting before extempo
rary fires. We believe that the repetition of these de
predations upon the property of the peasants, to whom
the herds of swine belonged, provoked an " order of
the day" from Wellington, prohibiting the practice.
To return, however, to our hosts : industry was the
characteristic of the household ; they spun their own
linen, and indeed were never idle. Their fare was of
the simplest and most frugal kind. At breakfast, dinner,
and supper the meal was the same; namely, scarlet-
beans sliced into a porringer of water, to which was
added a lump of lard about the size of an egg, when
the mess was simmered by the fire for some time, and
then partaken of, apparently with great relish, by the
whole family.
Rarely did they indulge in the luxury of animal food,
and of their scrupulous abstinence from it on the
days on which it was prohibited by the rules of then-
church, a curious instance fell under our notice while

TEMPTATION WITHSTOOD. 1 77
an inmate in the family. It happened, that some
country persons, coming on a visit to the old lady,
presented the boy with a small rabbit about a month
old, with which the mode of conveyance, — nearly smo
thered as it had been in the folds of the donor's ample
gown, — had not agreed, and thus it was half dead
when brought into the house. In order to give it
time to recover itself, and also to protect it from
the claws of a somewhat ferocious and always hun
gry cat, we locked it up in a closet in our own apart
ment. It was of no avail, for in less than an hour
the poor animal breathed its last, and we accordingly
transferred it to our factotum John, that he might
throw it away; which, however, in a country where
animal food was a rarity, he could not afford to do,
but made use of it as a valuable addition to the usual
mess of boiled scarlet-beans. Had he chosen any
other than a Catholic banyan day for the display of
his culinary skill, he would have secured the everlast
ing gratitude of the whole house, but unfortunately it
was a fast-day ; and thus, though they were strongly
tempted by the savoury odour of the dish, a spoonful
of which John actually applied to the lips of the vene
rable dame herself, not one of the family could be in
duced to taste it. There was " death in the pot," and
my excellent hosts went without their dinner.
We cannot dismiss these worthy persons without
adding, to their honour, that when we were about to
take leave of them, and inquired in what we were in
debted for our lodging, and that of our mules, mule
teer, and servant, their whole charge amounted to

178 don Miguel's chair.
about the sum of two shillings for forage ; but for the
use of the apartments they would charge nothing.
Of course we had found our own provisions. At
length, in the teeth of their remonstrances that they
had considered us in the light of guests, and felt
honoured by our sojourn amongst them, we forced
upon their acceptance, as some acknowledgment for
the accommodation and kindness we had experienced
during our short stay, the sum of twelve crusado
novos. While at Leiria we were shown a chair, which, dur
ing the late civil war, had been appropriated to Don
Miguel, and which afforded a sample of abject adu
lation worthy of the days of Canute, for it bore the
inscription — " Diis sacrata inferioribus sella."
Very inferior indeed, thought we, if Don Miguel, or
the generality of Portuguese monarchs whose biogra
phies we have met with, is to be quoted as a speci
men. In many parts of Portugal, we should mention,
Miguel is held in great veneration. We remember
that when at Oliveira, a very respectable town, we
heard the women protesting against their husbands
joining the liberal party; " but," said they, " for Don
Miguel we would send even these to fight," holding
forth the infants in their arms.
We will here venture to introduce a story of which
Leiria was the scene ; and although we do not pledge
ourselves for the accuracy of all its details, we know
that the heroine is a sketch from life. She was living
at Leiria at the period of our visit.

the maid of leiria. 179
Wi)t Jttafo of ILetrin.
It is now many years ago that an Englishman, whose
name was Clifton, arrived in the city of Leiria, where,
having dismissed his muleteer, he took up his abode
in a somewhat spacious house in one of the best
streets. The traveller was without a servant, and his
baggage occupied but a small space ; yet there was
that in his manner and dress which could not be
mistaken : he was evidently a gentleman.
At the period of his first occupation of the apart
ments, the only other inmates in the dwelling were an
elderly woman and a young girl. They were appa
rently in narrow circumstances, for the mother, such
was the relationship in which Clifton was informed she
stood to the maiden, performed much of the drudgery
of the house. She was active, somewhat more cleanly
than the generality of women in her station, and our
traveller found her remarkably obliging and attentive
to himself.
The girl, whose name was Anna, contributed her
share of labour to the support of the house ; but it was
in a different way, she being occupied, from morning
till night, in the fabrication of tassels and other orna
mental work, composed of silk and silver twist, which
was then, as it is now, used by Portuguese females in
setting off their necklaces. Anna was about seven
teen, somewhat tall for her age, and remarkably well
formed. Her1 complexion was of a rich clear olive ;
her eyes were long and black, and their brilliancy was
shaded by lashes silken and shining as the wing ofthe
n2

180 THE MAID OF LEIRIA.
raven. There was a gracefulness in her movements,
and a confiding simplicity in her manner, that greatly
interested the Englishman, who had a love of beauty
in the abstract, which may, and in the present in
stance did, exist unmixed with a tenderer feeling.
Clifton, although not contracted in his means, was
a man of few wants, and his meals were frugal. His
intercourse with the family was very limited, but ere
long he began to perceive that they lived hardly;
their meals being usually a sort of vegetable broth,
if it deserved the name, while meat was a luxury in
which they did not indulge more than once a-week,
and even then the quantity was small, and the quality
inferior. Clifton had, among other characteristics which dis
tinguish the true gentleman from the pretender, that
sensitiveness which shrunk, even in conferring a be
nefit, from wounding the delicacy of the most humble.
It would have been an easy, and as many might think,
the most direct course, for him to increase the hire of
his apartments ; but he could not voluntarily do this
without inventing an excuse which might not, after all,
conceal his motive. He therefore began suddenly to
find the air have a marvellous effect upon his appe
tite, and the supplies of his table were more liberal,
while he affected an unconquerable aversion to a
second introduction to the same joint, whether cold
or rechauffe. The natural result was, a considerable
improvement in the commissariat of his hostess and
Anna, the former of whom, a dull plodding creature,
saw not through the artifice, though she not only re-

THE MAID OF LEIRIA. 181
joiced, but grew fat on the abundance which it threw
in her way.
The maiden, however, with a more delicate mind,
had a quicker perception, and felt, for the manner in
which the benefit had been conferred, a gratitude that
the wealth of a province differently bestowed would
not have called forth. We will not deny that the hand
some person and noble bearing of the Englishman
had their effect on the mind of the maiden ; but those
qualities alone would not have inspired the feeling of
deep respect, amounting almost to veneration, with
which she regarded him. There was but one thought
that alloyed the pleasure which the contemplation of
his character afforded her, — the thought that so glo
rious a being should be a heretic, excluded, as she
had been taught from infancy to think, from the hap
piness of Eternity.
It happened that in passing from the street into his
own apartment, his way was through the room usually
occupied by Anna and her mother ; and it frequently
occurred that when he returned, after an afternoon's
excursion in the surrounding country, he found the
two females sitting together, the younger at her lace-
work, and the elder at her distaff. On some of these
occasions the Englishman would spend a few minutes
in chatting with the industrious pair ; and as his inte
rest in Anna increased, these conversations became
by degrees more prolonged.
One evening the discourse turned upon religion;
and great was the surprise of the simple-hearted girl
on finding that the Englishman believed, not only in

182 THE MAID OF LEIRIA.
the existence of a God, but in the divinity and atone
ment of the Saviour, as well as in the influence of the
third Person in the blessed Trinity. But if the sur
prise ofthe noble girl was great, her joy at the disco
very was intense ; and, although it was not expressed
by her lips, it was manifest in her eyes, from which
tears of delight stole down her soft cheek.
At other times Mr. Clifton would entertain them
with descriptions of his native land, and of his home;
alluding often, and with tenderness, to his parents and
his sisters ; and Anna would listen with eager interest
to his recital, and wish that Heaven had given her
such a brother.
The Englishman, on a nearer acquaintance with
Anna, perceived with satisfaction that her mind, sim
ple and unsophisticated as it was, had not been left
altogether uncultivated ; the abbess of a neighbouring
convent having, for some unexplained cause, shown
a more than ordinary interest in the girl, to whom
she had given advantages in the way of education, not
usually enjoyed by persons in her station.
Whether Clifton found more in the circumjacent
country to gratify his love of the picturesque, or felt
any other attraction to the spot, we have no means of
deciding ; but his sojourn had been protracted to a
fortnight, and he had made no preparations for pur
suing his tour. Returning one evening, he was sur
prised at the unusual addition of a man to the party
at his lodgings. He rose as the Englishman entered,
and was introduced as the husband of his hostess and
the father of Anna. Clifton, of course, said all that

THE MAID OF LEIRIA. 183
was gracious on the occasion, although he felt little
temptation to felicitate the damsel on her near con
nexion with the man who stood before him. He was
of a short, slight figure, very dark, and the expression
of his countenance was made doubly disgusting by the
obsequious grin with which he greeted his " lodger."
The Englishman's eye glanced from the ferocious
features of his host, to the contrast presented by the
graceful and lovely Anna; and was surprised, although
he was scarcely displeased, at perceiving that the dam
sel was any thing but proud of the relationship ; the
reality of which he felt much disposed to doubt.
From the hour in which that repulsive personage
returned to his dwelling, — for such it was, — a change
appeared to have passed upon the two females. It
was as if his very shadow had flung a blighting cloud
over their spirits. The Englishman no longer heard
the old woman bustling up and down the stairs, as if
noise and motion had been essential to her happi
ness ; while the sweet voice of Anna, which was once
heard chaunting a hymn to the Virgin or her patron
saint, as she plied her nimble fingers at her task,
was mute.
Clifton, of course, had now little inducement to
seek the society of his lovely favourite, since he must
incur the tax of enduring that of his swarthy host ;
yet, of course, in passing to and from his apartments,
he occasionally encountered her, and was pained at
perceiving that her cheerfulness was gone, and that
the tear was often in her eye.
Feeling that, whatever might be the source of her

181 THE MAID OF LEIRIA.
sorrow, he had no right to invite her confidence, and
that, even if it were given to him, probabilities were
much against his possessing the power of alleviating
her distress, he made no remark to her upon the
alteration in her manner, but intimated to his hostess
his intention of pursuing his journey on the evening
of the following day.
Whether it was that in thus precipitating his de
parture Clifton was influenced by mere disgust at the
man, or that the sinister expression of his face -inspired
him with apprehensions for his personal safety, is not
known ; but immediately on his returning to his cham
ber in the evening, the traveller busied himself in pre
parations for leaving on the morrow. Arrangements of
this nature usually occupy more time than is calculated
upon, and thus it happened that it was late before his
task was concluded ; and then, wearied by his exertions
in a close atmosphere, he flung open the little case
ment of his apartment, and seated himself at the win
dow. It was a glorious night, and the rays of the full
moon fell directly upon the castle of Leiria, which over
looks the city. The air was balmy, and Clifton felt
its refreshing influence, and was altogether so absorbed
by the scene, that he was either insensible to the
flight of time, or experienced no inclination to retire
to his bed, for it was long past the hour when he
usually sought his pillow.
The door of his sleeping apartment opened into
a gallery, which, being imperfectly lighted from with
out, received what is called a borrowed light from a
window which had been made for that purpose in

THE MAID OF LEIRIA. 185
Clifton's room. The people of the house, being
fatigued by their respective labours, usually retired to
rest about nine o'clock ; which, considering that they
went to mass regularly at five in the morning, was
not an unreasonably early hour. It was past twelve,
when the Englishman's attention was attracted by a
faint ray of light, as from a candle, slowly stealing
across the ceiling of the room, and indicating that
some person was deliberately mounting the stairs
which led to the gallery.
His curiosity, if not his suspicions, being roused by
this unusual circumstance, the traveller passed noise
lessly across the apartment, and, mounting upon a
chair, took his station at the window to which refer
ence has been made. From that position he perceived,
more to his surprise than alarm, — for he was con
stitutionally brave,— -his amiable host within a few
steps of the top of the staircase, which terminated at
the opposite side of the gallery; so that, in making
his way to Clifton's room, he would have to traverse
two sides of a quadrangle, and in so doing, to pass
the doors of two sleeping apartments, at one of
which he paused, and, after listening attentively for
the space of a minute, as if to ascertain that all was
quiet within, proceeded in the direction ofthe English
man's room.
Before, however, he reached what Clifton, not with
out reason, concluded to be his destination, an inter
vening door was suddenly opened, and Anna, dressed
as she had been on the preceding evening, advanced
from her chamber, and confronting him, inquired in

186 THE MAID OF LEIRIA.
a firm tone, " What dost thou here, Philippo, at such
an hour?"
The other started, and was for a moment confused,
but, quickly recovering himself, replied, " What is that
to thee? Go back to thy chamber, girl."
" I will not," said she, "until I know thy purpose."
"And what, I will ask in return," rejoined the man,
" is the meaning of thy being up at this hour, and
dressed too ? I say again, go to thy chamber, or thou
shalt rue it on the morrow : I will not tell thee my
purpose." " Then I will tell it to thee," said the girl; " thou
hast a design upon the stranger yonder."
" What ! " exclaimed the other furiously, evading the
charge, " darest thou hold this language to thy father? "
"Thou art not my father!" retorted the maiden.
" I have it from lips that never lied."
Philippo made an attempt to pass ; but Anna kept
her post so immediately in his path, that he could not
succeed without resorting to violence. " Advance
another step," she said, " and I will raise the house! "
"Whom wilt thou raise?" asked the other with a
sneer, " thy mother? Credit me, she will take better
counsel than meddle in my matters."
" I will alarm the senhor."
" Speak another word above thy breath," rejoined
the ruffian, placing the lamp in a niche in the wall
and drawing a'dagger from his vest, " and this shall
to thy heart ! "
" Senhor ! senhor ! " shrieked Anna.
Philippo rushed upon her, but stepping aside, she

THE MAID OF LEIRIA. 187
avoided the blow first aimed at her, and a struggle
ensued ; but its duration was short, for before the
assassin could disengage his arm for a second thrust,
he felt a grasp upon his throat, and the cold contact
of a pistol at his ear, while a voice like a trumpet
blast exclaimed, " Scoundrel ! but for your relation
ship, whatever it may be, to yon fair girl, this mo
ment were your last."
As he spake, he flung the assassin from him, with a
force which sent him staggering to the extremity of
the gallery, and then turned to the maiden, who was
lying in a state of almost insensibility on the floor.
He raised her up, and, having conveyed her to his
own room, administered such restoratives as he could
command, and remained at her side until she, in some
degree, recovered from the shock which her frame and
feelings had sustained.
" Noble, generous girl ! " said Clifton, when his fair
patient had requited his care by a grateful smile,
" what could induce you to peril your life thus for a
stranger ? "
" Can you ask me, senhor? " rejoined the damsel;
" you who have been so kind to me when the hand of
poverty was heavy upon me and poor Ursula yonder.
Could I ever do enough, senhor, for one who, by a
thousand generous acts, has earned a right to my
prayers ? ay, and to my love — nay, mistake me not, —
such love as a simple maiden may bear for one so
much raised above her as yourself, — a love which she
may cherish without sin, and own without a blush."
" It is I, Anna," said the Englishman, " who

188 THE MAID OF LEIRIA.
should talk of gratitude ; but of that we will speak
anon. In the mean time, pray tell me, is the person
you call Ursula not your mother ? "
" No," replied the maiden, " any more than is Phi
lippo my father: I have it from a sure hand; and
Ursula, although she dares not, for fear of her hus
band, say so openly, has tacitly admitted that I am
not related to either of them. Further than this I
know not."
" But, Anna," said the Englishman, " after what I
have witnessed to-night, this house can no longer be
a safe abode for you. Now tell me what you propose
to do, and how I can help you, as I am bound to do
by every tie of gratitude and honour."
" Alas !" was the maiden's reply, " I have but one
refuge, the convent ; and, as I have not the means of
placing myself there as a boarder, I must seek its
shelter as a novice."
" Nay," said the Englishman, " it were both a sin
and a shame to bury youth, loveliness, and virtue like
yours in the living grave of a nunnery. But we will
not talk of these things now."
The maiden then retired to her chamber, as did
Clifton to his, but not to sleep; for the day had
already dawned, and he waited impatiently for the
hour when he could make known the events of the
night to the municipal authorities. In the mean time,
having ascertained that Philippo had quitted the
house immediately after his encounter with the Eng
lishman, the latter mounted guard, pistol in hand,
at the foot of the stairs which led to the gallery,

THE MAID OF LEIRIA. 189
in order to protect the intrepid and noble-minded
maiden from any further outrage in the event of the
other's return.
At length the wished-for time arrived, and Clifton
sallied forth in quest of what was not so readily
found as he had imagined, namely, justice ; for he
had not proceeded the length of the street before
he discovered that his late antagonist had not
spent the intervening hours idly. Philippo's object,
in his intended visit to the Englishman's apartment,
was his gold, of which he had good reasons for con
cluding Clifton carried with him an abundance, and
rightly guessed that his portmanteau was the deposi
tory of the greater part of it. Of this, if he could
have possessed himself unknown to its owner, he
would probably have done so without taking the
trouble of cutting his throat. Having been foiled,
however, in the manner we have shown, his next
object was to gratify his revenge and his cupidity at
the same time ; and, accordingly, by his own activity
and the assistance of confederates, he contrived to
spread a report of the stranger's conduct towards his
daughter, as he called her ; and, among the lightest of
his charges, was an attempt on the part of Clifton to
eonvert the damsel from a good Catholic to a heretic.
This, in itself, was quite enough to enlist the passions
of a bigoted mob against the Englishman ; who, ac
cordingly, soon found himself surrounded by a rabble,
whose ferocious gestures, followed up by acts of per
sonal violence, promised the realization of Philippo's
designs upon the life and moveables of the stranger.

190 THE MAID OF LEIRIA.
To remonstrate with a mob would be to harangue
the waves in a storm, while resistance and flight were
equally out of the question. He had already sus
tained some severe bruises, and his clothes were
nearly torn from his back, when a procession of the
Host turned the corner of the street. This produced a
momentary diversion in his favour, by bringing his
assailants upon their knees; while the pressure, caused
by the crowd making a lane for the procession, forced
Clifton against a door which was suddenly opened,
causing him to tumble headlong into a passage, and
then the door was as quickly closed.
On recovering his feet, he found himself in the
presence of a person in the dress of an ecclesiastic.
His age was apparently about fifty; he was somewhat
inclining to corpulency, but well formed withal, and
his high forehead and open countenance bespoke both
intellect and good humour. He addressed Clifton in
English, and in that peculiarly rich full tone which,
without a predominance of the brogue, left no doubt
as to his country. "You are welcome, sir," he said,
" although, I confess, I could have wished the intro
duction to have taken place under more auspicious
circumstances." " I am sure," replied the other, " I have reason to
be very grateful for my timely rescue from the hands
of these ruffians."
" We must not holla till we are out of the wood,"
said the priest. " The procession has diverted the
attention of the mob, but my manoeuvre has not
escaped them. I noticed one fellow in particular,

STKETr ©F SHISEIRJie.OmiI9EA, IL IE II SUA.

THE MAID OF LEIRIA. 191
a tailor, — truculent fellows those tailors, — he squints
fearfully, and while one eye was on the procession,
the other was on you at the moment of your en
trance ; and, hark! he has communicated his disco
very to the rabble."
A shower of blows on the door, and loud cries of
"Bring out the heretic!" verified the words ofthe
priest, who, ringing a little bell, summoned to his
presence a youth of some fourteen years old, in whose
ear he whispered a few words ; and having dismissed
him with an injunction to use despatch, he turned to
Clifton and said, "And now, my friend, if you value
life and limb, help me to pile up the chairs and tables
against the door, or these vagabonds will soon walk
over it."
The other did as he was bidden, but remarked on
the impossibility of holding out against such an assault
for half an hour.
" If we can manage to do so for a quarter of one,"
was the rejoinder, " it will be more than I expect, and
as much as I desire." Then having, with the assist
ance of the Englishman, barricaded the door and
window as well as circumstances would admit, he
drew a brace of holster-pistols from a cupboard, care
fully examined the priming, and giving one of them
to Clifton, remarked, " These are odd articles of furni
ture for a man of my cloth ; but a journey over the
mountains is scarcely safe without such companion
ship. Heaven preserve us both from the dreadful
alternative of shedding blood ! but while I watch the
door, do you station yourself at the window, and if it

] 92 THE MAID OF LEIRIA.
be forced, make sure of your man and shoot the first
that enters. It may produce a panic in the rest,
which will then be our only chance."
" But," inquired the Englishman, " is there no
egress by the rear of the house ?"
" Yes," was the reply ; " but you would be recog
nised and murdered before you had walked twenty
yards." " Then, at least, save yourself," said Clifton; " and
leave me to a fate in which I have no right to in
volve you."
" Sir," said the other, with something of sternness,
" that is not the fashion in my country : we stand or
fall together."
The words had scarcely passed his lips, when the
hinges of the door yielded with a crash, which was
succeeded by a shout of exultation from the rabble,
who followed up their advantage, and there stood but
a few frail tables and chairs between them and their
victim. The priest and the Englishman cocked their
pistols, and stood shoulder to shoulder. " Now,"
said the former, " the tailor is my man — mark you
him of the red cap."
The pistols were presented, when the attention of
the mob appeared to be suddenly arrested : their eyes
were turned towards the top of the street ; and, the
next moment, the tramp of cavalry was distinctly
heard. " The boys are coming at last !" exclaimed the priest,
who was confessor to a company of Irish horse in the
Portuguese service, to the captain of which he had

THE MAID OF LEIRIA. 193
despatched his messenger to request assistance. The
hesitation of the rabble was speedily converted into a
rapid retreat, by the filing of a few shots over their
heads; and immediately afterwards, some twenty troop
ers, under the command of a subaltern, passed down
the street, at a smart trot, and completed the disper
sion of the rioters.
Clifton, having related to the worthy ecclesiastic the
events of the night, concluded by a repetition of his
thanks for the signal service which he had experienced
at his hands.
" Say not another word on the subject," was the
reply. " I am too happy in having been of use to a
gentleman, whose acquaintance I should be proud to
improve, but whom, nevertheless, it is my duty to re
commend to decamp from Leiria with all convenient
expedition; for your friend Philippo will take the first
opportunity of cutting your throat, which he will do
with as little compunction as he would slice a melon."
" You knew the fellow before, then?" said Clifton.
" I have known him long," replied the father, " and
have of late frequently encountered him, in my jour
neys to Coimbra, in very suspicious company; in fact,
I have no doubt he is leagued with a band of free
booters, if he be not actually one of the gang."
The good priest, in answer to the Englishman's in
quiries, proceeded to state that it was understood
that Anna was the daughter of an individual, whose
peculiar position prevented him from acknowledging
the paternity ; but who had confided her to the care
of Philippo and his wife, with a sum of money suffi-

194 THE MAID OF LEIRIA.
cient, not only for her support, but for her future
establishment. The real father, however, died while
Anna was an infant, when Philippo appropriated the
money to his own use, and, to guard against any subse
quent claims on the part of the girl, brought her up
as his daughter."
Clifton wisely took the advice of his clerical friend,
and accordingly proceeded to his late abode for the
purpose of obtaining his portmanteau, etc. Pie ascer
tained that Philippo had not deemed it safe to return,
and consequently the Englishman's property was un
disturbed. Passing from his own apartment, he found Anna
sitting by herself in an adjoining room. She rose at
his entrance, but he bade her sit down, and took a
seat beside her. " Anna," said he, in a voice which
betrayed his emotion, " I am come to bid farewell to
you ; but at the same time to say, that I have made
arrangements for your reception as a boarder in the
convent over which your friend presides ; and in thus
doing, feel that I have but inadequately acknowledged
my gratitude for your noble devotion to my safety."
" Farewell, generous Englishman ! " she exclaimed,
as she threw herself upon her knees, covering his
hand with kisses, and bathing it with tears : " Fare
well ! our paths in this world are widely sundered ;
but there is a blessed region beyond it, where I will
hope and pray that we shall meet again."
Clifton, unable to give utterance to another syllable,
gently disengaged his hand from the passionate em
brace of the grateful girl, imprinted one kiss upon her

THE MAID OF LEIRIA. 195
glorious brow; then, rushing from the house, he
mounted his mule and departed.
We doubt not that our readers, — and especially our
young and fair ones, — will be disappointed, because
our story has not terminated, according to ancient
usage, in the marriage of the Englishman with the
lovely Portuguese. The probabilities are, that the
happiness of neither party would have been promoted
by such an union ; inasmuch as disparity of rank, and
above all, difference of religion, rarely promise hap
piness in a matrimonial connexion. Certain it is, that
Anna could not, had she married a king, have been
more happy than she is, as the wife of an honest and
wealthy landholder, who had long loved her, and who
relieved the good abbess of her charge about a year
after the events which we have just narrated.

It was on Tuesday, the fifteenth of August, that on
our way from Leiria to Batalha, we fell in with the
Marquis of Saldanha, whom we would willingly have
avoided, inasmuch as we were aware that our mules
would be regarded with a somewhat covetous eye by
the general of an ill-appointed army, and that little
scruple would be felt in easing us of our charge. It
was about four o'clock in the morning that we thus
encountered his lordship at the head of a force, con
sisting of about five hundred cavalry and two hun
dred foot, if men in brown jackets and useless mus
kets could be termed soldiers. The general pulled up
on our approach, and, in the midst of his staff, ques
tioned us as to our route, the object of our journey,
o 2

196 INTERVIEW WITH SALDANHA.
and particularly as to our knowledge of what was pass
ing at Leiria. We could give him no information ex
cept what related to ourselves ; but although we believe
we satisfied him as to our innocence of all political or
bellicose intentions, we should hardly have escaped
without the sacrifice of our mules, had we not stated
what was the fact, that we had a letter of introduc
tion from a friend of his in London. This appeared
to interest, not only himself, but one of his staff who
rode beside him, and who exclaimed, " What ! do you
know * * * *?" mentioning him by name. The
party who made this inquiry was a remarkably fine,
handsome, and intelligent looking person, and, we re
gret to add, was shot dead during a parley between
Saldanha and a general of the opposite party, a short
time after our interview with him.
The result of that interview, as far as regards our
selves, was, that we were permitted to depart with our
mules and baggage; and we certainly never recollect
to have bidden any person good morning with half so
much pleasure, as that with which we bade adieu to
the gallant marquis.

lodging hunting. 197

CHAPTER VII.
ATALHA.
Our Lodgings — Visit to the Monastery — Battle of Aljubarrota —
Royal Vow — Mausoleum of the Founder — Chapter-house —
Mausoleum of King Emanuel — Anecdotes of the Battle of
Aljubarrota — A Night Scene.
On our arrival at Batalha, where we purposed to re
main a few days, our first care was to secure quarters,
a matter which we found to be one of no ordinary dif
ficulty. Inn, — that is to say, any thing deserving of
the name, and in which an Englishman could endure
to remain for a moment, — there was none ; and we
therefore had recourse, in the first instance, to the
priest, who is usually well lodged; but he, we found,
had not a room to spare, and we next resorted to a kind
of magistrate, whose duty is chiefly to examine pass
ports. He, fortunately, had an apartment for which he
had no immediate use, and that he kindly and un
conditionally resigned to us. It was on the first story
of the house, very spacious, but filthy to a degree
which we cannot describe, and which it would be
impossible for an Englishman who had not seen it to
conceive. The floor was literally plastered with dirt,
which, perhaps, will cease to be a subject of wonder,

198 THE AUGEAN STABLE.
when we state that the pigs, and particularly a vene
rable and most matronly sow, were in the habit of
mounting the stairs, and taking the range of the pre
mises at pleasure.
As this room, like that of the son of St. Crispin,
was to serve us for " parlour, for kitchen, and hall,"
it became our first object to cleanse the Augean stable ;
and accordingly, by the offer of a pecuniary reward,
we engaged some persons to set about the work of
purification, which they did not undertake without
expressing wonder, not unmixed with contempt, at
what they considered our fastidiousness. They were,
however, so unaccustomed to the work, that they gave
it up when it was but partially done ; and after causing
our Portuguese servant to sprinkle the room liberally
with diluted chloride of lime, — an article which we were
recommended by a friend to take with us from Eng
land, — we had our metal bedstead fixed, and prepared
ourselves for repose.
We should mention that among the " little inconve
niences" to which our new lodgings exposed us, was
the circumstance ofthe adjoining room being tenanted
by our host and his family, male and female ; which
might, notwithstanding the eternal chatter of the
ladies, have been tolerable enough, had our apart
ments been separated by that common English contri
vance, — a door. However, there was no help for it,
so, getting into bed, we desired John to draw the
musquito net over us as a protection from the flies,
which are one of the many entomological annoyances
of the country, and essayed to go to sleep ; but, alas !

THE FLEAS AGAIN ! 199
that was no easy matter ; for although we, of course,
carried our own bed-linen with us, and had, by a
clever invention of our own, almost encased our
selves in a sack, no armour, not even steel itself
would have been proof against our assailants. A
friend of ours, whose fate it was once to pass a night
at an inn in the town of Wexford, assures us that
the fleas are so large that one can hear them bark ;
those of Batalha, however, needed no such accom
plishment to prevent us from closing our eyes. We
suppose the hides of the Portuguese are tanned by the
sun, and that fleas are glad to get hold of a foreigner
who is not so fortunate, for they showed us no sort
of mercy. However, sleep at last deigned to visit
us in spite of the fleas ; but at day-break we were
awakened by a sensation of chilliness, arising from a
thick mist which filled the apartment. On examina
tion, we found, — what had previously escaped our
notice, and was probably deemed too trifling a matter
to be referred to by our host, — that a window at the
extremity of the room was not glazed; so that we were
exposed to the fogs, which had doubtless carried rheu
matism and cramps into the limbs of the ancient
monks of Batalha, to whose primitive condition we
have alluded in another part of the volume.
Our investigations in entomology at Batalha, alas !
were not limited to fleas, which, when the worst is
said of them, must be allowed to be at least very
lively companions, although their wit is occasionally
too pungent. On being awakened from our second
nap, we were surprised by the sight of a multitude of

200 MORNING ABLUTIONS.
dark spots, by which our musquito net was liberally
studded, and, summoning our servant, we directed
his attention to the immense number of flies which
had settled there. He shrugged his shoulders and
said nothing. The hideous and appalling truth sud
denly flashed upon us. " They cannot be bugs !" we
exclaimed, as we started upright in bed for the benefit
of a more minute examination, when, to our indescrib
able horror, we found our suspicions confirmed.
The people of the house, in common we believe
with all Portuguese of their class, appeared to regard
these objects of our aversion with the utmost indif
ference ; indeed, our antipathy to fleas was ridiculed
even by the children, who, whenever we ventured out
of our apartment, were wont to cry, " The fleas are
coming ! the fleas are coming !"
Nor were the frequent ablutions in which we found
it so essential to our comfort in such a climate to
indulge, a less fruitful subject of merriment to these
urchins ; for, as we stood at the window engaged in
what was considered by them to be a wanton waste of
water, they would mock our proceedings by dipping
their hands in a puddle and rubbing their own be
grimed faces, which all the mud in the Peninsula could
not have made more dirty than they were.
During our sojourn at the worthy functionary's to
whom we were indebted for quarters, we were greatly
struck by the skill displayed by his daughters in em
broidery : we may not, perhaps, use the term which
will convey our meaning to our fair readers, but we
mean the working of flowers upon muslin.

VANITY REBUKED. 201
One of the damsels, who had noticed our sketching
propensities, once asked us to draw her a design from
which to work; accordingly, with a readiness inspired
by our gallantry, and not a little stimulated by a no
tion that we should " astonish the natives " by our per
formance, we forthwith applied ourselves to the task.
Not having been previously favoured by a sight of any
specimens of their skill, we presented the result of our
labours to the fair petitioner, who received our offer
ing very graciously ; and we flattered ourselves that
we had earned the guerdon of smiles with which our
compliance was rewarded. The reader will judge of
the mortification we experienced when we discovered,
on an inspection of some previously executed speci
mens of our fair friend's skill, that our designs were
completely cast into shade by the exquisite grace, deli
cacy, and beauty of her performances. We were given
to understand that the art of embroidering is very
generally cultivated by the women of Portugal, and,
as in the case of the damsel to whom we have alluded,
with great success.
Our first visit was, of course, to the celebrated
monastery of Batalha. Its architecture Murphy de
scribes as modern Norman-Gothic, of which it is
considered one of the finest specimens extant. The
materials of which it is constructed are so substan
tial, and the climate so favourable for its preserva
tion, that it still retains much of its original beauty,
notwithstanding its having suffered severely from the
earthquake in 1755, the ravages of which, from the
poverty of its revenues, the monks have not been able

202 VISIT TO THE MONASTERY.
to repair. According to Murphy, it is built, with the
exception of the inferior offices and dormitories, of
marble, somewhat like that of Carrara ; but Link, as
quoted by Mr. Kinsey, maintains that it is a " calca
reous species of sand-stone."
" In the construction ofthe church," says Murphy,
" we observe none of those trifling and superfluous
sculptures, which but too often are seen to crowd
other Gothic structures : whatever ornaments are em
ployed in it, are sparingly but judiciously disposed,
particularly in the inside, which is remarkable for a
chaste and noble plainness ; and the general effect,
which is grand and sublime, is derived, not from any
meretricious embellishments, but from the intrinsic
merit of the design."
The Portuguese writers on the subject, either from
ignorance or some other cause, have omitted to men
tion the name of the architect; and it is gratifying
to state, that this chef-d'oeuvre was designed by a
British artist, Stephen Stephenson. It is probable
that the employment of an Englishman in the plan, as
well as of others of the same country in the details, is
attributable to the fact of the wife of the founder
being an Englishwoman, — the amiable and exemplary
Philippa, daughter of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lan
caster. The extent of the building, according to Murphy,
the accuracy of whose measurements, however, we are
aware has been impugned, from the western entrance
to the eastern extremity is 416 feet; from north to
south, including the monastery, 541 feet. Of the

PRINCIPAL ENTRANCE. 203
principal entrance, he remarks, that in every thing
which constitutes the ornamental or elegant, it " stands
unrivalled by any other Gothic frontispiece in Europe."
The portal, which is twenty-eight feet wide by fifty-
seven high, is embellished with upwards of one hun
dred figures in alto-relievo, representing Moses and
the prophets, saints, angels, etc., etc. Each figure is
on an ornamental pedestal, beneath a canopy of ad
mirable workmanship, and separated by mouldings ter
minating in pointed arches. Below the vertex of the
inferior arch is the figure of the Saviour, seated on a
throne, with one hand on a globe and the other ex
tended, dictating to the four evangelists, by effigies of
whom he is encircled. The summit of the building
is surrounded by a railing about one hundred feet
from the pavement.
Of the exquisite delicacy of the ornamental work
manship, Murphy states as an instance, that there is a
figure at the entrance, representing one of the fathers
of the church, not more than twelve inches high, in
which " the sculptor has expressed its worn tunic in a
threadbare state." It has been suggested to the author,
by a gentleman celebrated for his judgment in matters
both of antiquity and taste, that Stephenson was a
pupil of William of Wykeham, an inference which is
drawn, not merely from the fact of their being contem
poraries, but from the style of the architecture.
For the early history of this celebrated edifice, as
well as for some additional particulars of its structure
and decoration, we refer to the following notes from
the History and Description of the Royal Monastery

204 BATTLE OF ALJUBARROTA.
of Batalha, by Father Louis de Sousa, as translated
by Murphy.
" Don John, the first of his name, and tenth king
of Portugal, finding his kingdom invaded, encamped
in the plains of Aljubarrota, in the district of Leiria,
accompanied by a few but faithful and resolute sub
jects. His adversary, another king named John, and
also the first of that name in the royal line of Castile,
was drawn up in his front, with all the forces of his
kingdom, among whom were a great number of Por
tuguese, who followed him either through motives of
interest, or from a mistaken idea of the justice of his
cause : matters having arrived at this crisis, a battle
became inevitable."
The issue of this battle, on the 14th of August,
1385, proving favourable to King John of Portugal,
he vowed to build a magnificent monastery in ho
nour of the Virgin Mary, " because the battle was
on the eve of her glorious assumption." Nor will it
be matter of surprise that the victorious monarch
should have felt gratitude for the success which had
crowned his arms, whatever may be the opinion as to
the mode he adopted of expressing his feelings ; since
it appears that, with a force of only 6500 men, and
with some local disadvantages, he withstood and
finally overthrew an army of 33,000. In this conflict,
celebrated as the battle of Aljubarrota, the name ofthe
village near which it was fought, the Castilians are
said to have sustained a loss, in cavalry alone, of
3000 men. The contest commenced at sunset, and at
the first charge the Castilians broke their opponents'

CHEATING THE VIRGIN. 205
vanguard ; but the Portuguese monarch rallied his
forces so effectually, that in the course of one hour he
put his adversaries to the rout.
The result of his victory was the ultimate reduction
of his kingdom to obedience ; but, although he never
lost sight of his vow to build a monastery, he appears
to have been influenced by his spiritual advisers as to
the appropriation of it ; and that somewhat against his
conscience, as would appear by the following apolo-
getical passage in his will.
" Whereas we promised on the day we had the
battle with the King of Castile, if the Lord would
render our arms victorious, that we should order a
monastery to be built in honour of our blessed St.
Mary, on the eve of whose assumption the battle was
fought. After the commencement of the said monas
tery, Doctor John das Regas of our council, and F.
Laurenco Lamprea, our confessor, being with us at
the siege of Melgaco, requested that we should com
mand it to be of the order of St. Dominick ; but
having some doubts on that head, because our promise
was to build it in honour of our Lady, the blessed
Virgin Mary, they answered that the said Lady was
much attached to this order, and declared to us for
what reason. Having duly considered the same, we
consented, and caused to be ordained, that the said
monastery be of the Dominican order."
It appears, that in order to the fit execution of his
pious design, King John invited from foreign coun
tries the most skilful artists ; and, as the wealth of the
monarch was proverbial, not a few obeyed the call.

206 HUMANE ENDOWMENT.
The site of the edifice was not chosen with much
regard either to health, convenience, or picturesque
beauty; for the pious historian feels it necessary to
apologize for his majesty " raising a pile, the admira
tion of the world, in a depopulated desert, destitute
of shady woods and cooling springs, and in a low
humid situation;" which, as we find stated in the
same paragraph, generates infirmities, and " renders
it a living sepulture."
" Notwithstanding these weighty objections," con
tinues our author, (we quote the words of his trans
lator,) " the king, agreeably to his previous resolu
tion, would not change the situation in which he re
ceived the divine favour, as declared in the words of
his testament;" whence it is clear, that the pious
monarch was not content with raising an altar, but
endowed it with victims in perpetuo. It is held, in our
day, to be scarcely fair to charge an architect with all
the faults of a work executed under royal superinten
dence ; but it is impossible not to admire the complai
sance, whatever we may think of the philanthropy, of
the architects of Batalha, who, we are told, assured
the king that, as to the humidity of the site, " it
would dry with the edifice, or at least such parts of it
as were injurious to health." But whither, the reader
will inquire, went the damp ? Into the bones of the
unlucky friars who were doomed to inhabit it !
The original name of the convent was Canveira, from
the village near which it was built ; but it was sub
sequently called Batalha, (battle,) the origin of its
establishment. " Our ancient fathers," says our chro-

DESCRIPTION OF THE CHURCH. 207
nicle, " more religious than classical, call it improperly
De bello, a name which would be proper and appli
cable, were we to take its signification from the Latin
adjective bellum, fine, or beautiful, instead of the
substantive bellum, which (the chronicler kindly in
forms us) imports war." Punning, therefore, it ap
pears, is not so modern an accomplishment as some
would imagine.
The church of the monastery is built from east to
west, and the body of it alone, from the principal en
trance-is 300 palms* long, measured to the first step of
the great chapel ; and thence to the wall at the back of
the chapel 60 palms, — making in the whole 360 palms.
The breadth is 150 palms ; equal to one-third of the
length taken to the first step of the great chapel. The
height from the pavement ofthe church is 146 palms.
The nave is 33 palms, and the two aisles each 21 \ palms
wide. The difference between these, added together,
and the whole width of the building, is made up by
the width of the pillars, of which there are eight on
each side of 12 palms diameter at the base, equal to
the thickness of the walls. The transept is 30 palms
wide and 150 palms long; the front of it, at each
side of the high altar, is subdivided into four chapels :
one is dedicated to St. Barbara, and contains a
" low sepulture of a cardinal," supposed to be of
royal descent. The second is dedicated to Our Lady
of the Rosary, and contains the monument of Queen
Isabel, wife of Alfonso V. In the third, which is at
the right hand of the high altar, and is dedicated to
* Murphy says, the palm is 8T%4„ inches, English measure.

208 MAUSOLEUM OF THE FOUNDER.
Our Lady of Mercy, are the remains of John II. The
fourth was appointed for the remains of the grand
master of the order of Christ, Don Lopes Denis de
Sousa, whose valour and great services as his name
sake, and doubtless relative, the chronicler adds, with
natural and laudable partiality, " well merited the
posthumous honour."
In the centre of the great chapel, below the steps of
the altar, lie the remains of King Edward and his wife
Eleanor. The tomb is without inscription, and is dis
tinguished only by the recumbent effigies of the de
ceased, whose right hands are joined, while the left
hand of the king rests upon an escutcheon, and that
of the queen grasps a book. Opposite to the transept
entrance, at the end of the cross, is the chapel of our
Saviour. The other five chapels, that is, the great one
and four collateral ones, have no altar-pieces worth
notice. In Sousa's time the windows were richly illu
minated with stained glass, and were in good repair.
The mausoleum of the founder, built for himself
and his queen, Philippa, is a quadrangular room mea
suring 90 palms square, vaulted, and surmounted
by an octagonal lanthorn supported by eight pillars.
The windows are ornamented with stained glass,
and the height from the pavement to the key-stone
of the vault which covers the lanthorn, is 92 palms.
The monument is of white marble, embellished on
every side with foliage of briars in demi-relief, bear
ing thorns and berries ; at intervals is the motto
" 77 me plait pour bien." On the tomb are two re
cumbent figures of the king and queen ; the former

ODD COMPARISON. 209
in complete armour, and their right hands are locked
together. Near to this tomb are four sepulchres, which contain
the relics of the four sons of the founder. The se
pulchre of Don Peter, the eldest, exhibits the device
of the order of the Garter, of which he was a knight.
He was Duke of Coimbra and Monte Mor, and go
vernor of the kingdom for eleven years during the
minority of Alfonso V. The motto is " Desir.''
The sepulchre of the second son, Henry Duke of
Viseu, shows an escutcheon, on which is the device of
the order of the Garter, and the motto " Talant de
bien fere." The third son was Don John, whose
motto is uJe ai bien reson." The fourth son was Don
Ferdinand, whose motto is " Le bien me plait." *
De Sousa, proceeding in his description of Batalha
as it was in his time, informs us that the church has
two entrances, the principal and the transverse ; the
porch of the former alone he states " would require a
volume to particularize the columns, figures, and va
riety of ornamental sculptures with which it is deco
rated." He speaks in terms of the highest panegyric
of the window in the centre of the west front and
immediately over the porch, and describes it as being
of such " exquisite workmanship, that it is scarce pos
sible to execute the like with more accuracy in wax
or needle-work, or," adds the reverend father oddly
enough, "in the overture of a guitar;" a comparison
which doubtless owes its origin to the chronicler's
recollection of the power of music in architecture, as
narrated in the ancient fable of Amphion.
* The mottoes are literally transcribed. P

210 RELICS.— CHAPTER-HOUSE.
Among the treasures contained in the sacristy, he
mentions certain relics presented by Emanuel Paleo-
logus in 1401, which are described as being "very
estimable for their quality, and for the certitude
and credibility they derived from the authority of
so great a prince." One of them is a small cross of
gold, containing " some precious relics of the apos
tles St. Peter, St. Paul, St. George, and St. Bras." In
the middle of the said cross is a particle of the
sponge with which the gall and vinegar were given to
our Saviour. A portion of the garment of the Re
deemer is also mentioned as being among the relics,
the hem of which is said to possess certain healing
qualities. The gifts of the founder, in the way of
plate, appear to have been very magnificent, and to
have weighed 600 pounds. A great portion, however,
of this plate was subsequently sold for 811 marks, in
order to carry on the works of the convent, which had
been discontinued for want of funds.
His account of the chapter-house is very curious,
and deserves quotation. " This room is so con
structed, that there can be nothing more wonderful,
insomuch that it comprehends the utmost degree of
architectural skill. Its form is a square, each side of
which measures 85 palms, and is covered with a vault
of hewn stone, without column, prop, or any thing to
support it but external buttresses, such as are in the
side of the church.
" It is recorded that, in constructing this vault, it
fell twice in striking the centres, with great injury to
the workmen. But the king, desirous at all events to
have a room without the defect of a central support,

PERILOUS ARCHITECTURE. 211
promised to reward the architect if he could accomplish
it. At this he was animated in such a manner that
he began it again, as if confident of success. The
king, however, would not hazard any more the lives
of his workmen in striking the centres : therefore he
ordered, from the different prisons of the kingdom,
such men as were sentenced to capital punishments, in
order that, if the like disaster happened a third time,
none should suffer but those who had already forfeited
their lives to the offended laws of their country."
The chapter-house contains the remains of King
Alfonso V., grandson ofthe founder ; and, in another
tomb, those of Prince Alfonso, son of John II. , who
was killed by a fall from his horse as he was riding
by the banks of the Tagus.
The worthy Dominican speaks in equally enthu
siastic terms of the grandeur and rare workman
ship displayed in the royal cloister, the quadrangle of
which he describes as being distributed into walks,
bordered with large hewn stones, and the enclosed
spaces planted with " a diversity of shrubs and flowers."
In the midst was a large cistern of water, and in one
of the angles a lofty fountain, which, says the father,
somewhat quaintly, " is very useful in this situation,
because the refectory door is contiguous to it, so that
those who enter may wash their hands and gratify
their sight, whilst waiting the signal of the dinner-
bell : for this purpose the wall next the refectory door
is furnished with seats and wainscoted backs, for the
accommodation ofthe fathers."
The refectory he describes as a splendid apartment,
p2

212 MAUSOLEUM OF DON EMANUEL.
133 palms long and 32 in breadth; lofty and well
lighted. His translator, Murphy, says that 32 palms
is a mistake, 44 being the actual width.
The wine-cellar appears to have been very spacious ;
160 palms long, and 43 wide ; and, in sooth, they had
good need of such, and of generous wine to fill it, if
the Dominican's account of the insalubrity of the site
be correct ; and we are still less disposed to blame the
care of the denizens of the cloister for the creature
comforts, when we reflect on the liberality with which
conventual establishments, from time immemorial, have
dispensed their hospitality to casual visitors, and their
care of the poor of their vicinity.
De Sousa informs us, that at the north end there was
an open terrace, which commanded a pleasant prospect
of orchards and a large vineyard refreshed by the con
stant course of a fine river ; and adds, as a curious
illustration of the habits of the order, " here also are
seen several deep ponds, that at times afford amuse
ment to the recluse and studious fathers, by fishing
with cane rods and nets."
The author next comes to the mausoleum of King
Emanuel, a sketch of which, in its present condition,
has been taken by our artist. De Sousa describes the
entrance as being very wide, and having seven columns
on each side. " The dimensions and ornaments of
the seven columns," he continues, " are various, but
all sculptured with such exquisite delicacy, so beauti
ful, uniform, and perfect in execution, that one would
suppose it impossible to form the like of the most
pliant wood."

ANNIVERSARY OFFERINGS. 213
The reverend monk then plunges into a disquisition
on the signification of the various inscriptions, more
learned than interesting.
There appears to be considerable difference of opi
nion as to the actual founder of this mausoleum. De
Sousa says that there is not the least doubt that the
greater part was done by King Emanuel, or at least
with his permission, and during his reign. The in
scription " Perfectum est opus, anno 1509," a period
at which he had attained a good old age, certainly
bears out the father's theory, although the edifice was
never finished.
There are some, however, who suppose that Queen
Eleanor, sister to Emanuel, was the founder of it, in
tending it for the remains of her husband John II. and
her son Alfonso, neither of whom have proper sepul
chres in the convent.
Cardinal Vincent Justiniano, on visiting the monas
tery, is reported to have exclaimed, " Videmus alte-
rum Salomonis templum."
We find in the father's account of this celebrated
edifice, the following enumeration of the offerings
bequeathed by the founder for the support of the
convent :
" On the anniversaries of the king and his son,
offerings are allowed to the convent, consisting of a
certain quantity of wheat, wine, and wax. And as
the order of this convent originally abstained from
flesh meat, the pious king wished likewise to add an
offering of some dozen of dried whitings of a large and
wholesome species. These are of great service to the

214 GLAZING BY CONTRACT.
community, and easily obtained, as the sea-ports near
the convent produce fish in great abundance. As the
anniversaries are many, the offerings are princely:
they amount to fifty-two moyas and a half (a moya
is about twenty-one and a half bushels) of wheat ;
forty-three pipes of wine ; twenty-four arrobas (an ar-
roba is thirty-two pounds) of wax, and two hundred
and fifteen dozen of fish. These offerings, reduced to
money, the king commanded to be paid quarterly out
of his revenue by the receiver of the district of Leiria.
Since the prices of these articles have now increased,
they amount to a considerable charity, and are at pre
sent the principal sustenance ofthe fathers."
The performance of works by contract would appear,
from the following passage, to be of greater antiquity
than many would imagine.
" Since the number and magnitude of the stained
glass windows form a principal part of the beauty of
this church, and as a thing so brittle is often in need
of repair, the king assigned a particular sum to a gla
zier to keep them constantly in order ; in pursuance of
which he was bound to replace, at his own cost, what
ever was damaged to the size of one palm, and all
above that dimension was to be paid for in proportion
from the fund for similar expenses."
The translator, Murphy, adds to his volume a docu
ment, originally written in French, by one of the fathers
of Batalha, for a gentleman who visited the monastery
in 1783. From this we gather, that at that period the
resident friars were forty-four of the Dominican or
der, namely, twenty-five in sacred orders ; two dea-

REVENUE.  ESTABLISHMENT. 215
cons, four novices, and thirteen lay brothers. They
were governed by a prior and three subordinates, called
a rector of novices, a vicar, and a master of morals.
There were two professors for teaching grammar to
seculars, and another for instructing them to read
and write. The other officers of the monastery were
the sacrist, precentor, cellararius, granatarius, and elee-
mosynarius. There were also two treasurers under
the direction of the prior, each having a separate
key of the chest which contains the stock of the
community. The revenue of the convent at that period varied
from ten to twelve thousand cruzados, arising from
the sale of the fruit, rent of flour and oil mills, added
to the fixed revenue of the convent, 3000 cruzados ; a
cruzado being about 2s. 3d. of our money.
Each friar was allowed 4,800 reis (about 27s.) for
his clothing.
The servants ofthe monastery were fourteen; the
cook's allowance was 4,800 reis per annum, with wine
at discretion.
The convent had four feasts in the year, and two
days of double allowance ; the ordinary allowance of
each father was one pound and a quarter of meat, and
the same quantity of fish, besides wine, fruit, etc.
It is singular that Rhys, whose work professes to
treat of " the most remarkable places and curiosities
in Spain and Portugal," should have dismissed the
monastery of Batalha with so cursory a notice ; and
yet he designates it as " one of the most sumptuous
and elegant convents in the whole kingdom."

216 SINGULAR COINCIDENCE.
The following anecdotes of the battle to which this
celebrated monastery owes its origin, will not, we
think, be deemed out of place, while it is hoped they
will prove interesting to our readers.
Anecdotes of the Battle of Aljubarrota.
The address of Henry the Fifth of England pre
viously to the battle of Agincourt, will be familiar to
the readers of Shakspeare.
" Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart ; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse :
We would not die in that man's company,
That fears his fellowship to die with us."
Among the speeches delivered by the Portuguese
chieftains on the eve of the battle of Aljubarrota, we
find the following passage: " Have it proclaimed to
your men, that no one dare on his life think of flying ;
and if there should be any whose courage fails, so that
he fear to await the battle, let him come forward, and
he shall have leave to depart, (for one faint heart
discourages a dozen of good men at arms,) or," and
the alternative is somewhat curious, " have his head
struck off as an example to others." The coincidence
is rendered more striking by the fact, that the victors
were, in each instance, beyond all comparison, inferior
to the conquered in numbers.
The king caused it to be notified to the army, that
if any were desirous of the honour of knighthood, it
should be conferred upon them ; whereupon sixty can-

COLD-BLOODED SLAUGHTER. 217
didates came forward, and were dubbed accordingly.
It is added, that " none of the English were desirous
to be knighted this day ; they were requested by the
king to be so, but excused themselves for that time;"
an instance of modesty which, we fear, would not be
imitated by modern aspirants.
In the outset of the battle the Portuguese took one
thousand knights and esquires prisoners, whom at first
they treated with great kindness, assuring them that they
should be handsomely dealt with, inasmuch as " they
had valiantly fought, and had been conquered fairly."
When, however, they beheld the King of Castile bear
ing down upon them with twenty thousand horse, " the
necessity of the case," says Froissart, " obliged them,
and they came to a pitiless resolution ; for it was com
manded, under pain of death, that whoever had taken
a prisoner should instantly kill him, and that neither
noble, nor rich, nor simple, should be exempted.
Those barons, knights, and squires, who had been
so captured were in a melancholy situation, for en
treaties would have been of no avail. They were
scattered about disarmed in different parts, consider
ing themselves in safety for their lives at least ; but it
was not so, which was a great pity. Each man killed
his prisoner, and those who refused had him slain
before their eyes ; for the Portuguese and English,
who had given this advice, said ' It was better to kill
than be killed, and if we do not put them to death,
they will liberate themselves while we are fighting, and
then slay us, for no one ought to put confidence in
his prisoner.'"

218 THE BETTER PART OF VALOUR.
" This," continues the chronicler, with the most
philosophical coolness, " was a very unfortunate event
to the prisoners, as well as to the Portuguese, for they
put to death this Saturday as many poor prisoners as
would have been worth, taking one with another, four
hundred thousand francs."
The King of Portugal appears to have distinguished
himself by his valour, for it is said that " he dismount
ed, and taking his battle-axe, placed himself at the
pass, where he performed wonders, knocking down
three or four of the stoutest of the enemy, insomuch
that none dare approach him."
Froissart observes, on the Spanish mode of fighting
in those days, " It is true they make a handsome
figure on horseback, spur off to advantage, and fight
well at the first onset ; but as soon as they have
thrown two or three darts and given a stroke with
their spears, without disconcerting the enemy, they
take alarm, turn their horses' heads, and save them
selves by flight as well as they can. This game they
played at Aljubarrota."
Henry of Castile, although the fortune of the day
was evidently against him, and the flower of his own
cavalry, as well as that of France, which had so gal
lantly come to his aid, were destroyed, exhibited great
reluctance to quit the field. " My lord," remonstrated
his followers, " march away ; it is time for you : the
battle is over : you cannot alone conquer your ene
mies, nor repair your losses : your men are running
away on all sides, for every one now looks to him
self: you know also it will be prudent, at this mo-

COSTLY HELMET. 219
ment, to follow their example, and if fortune is now
against you, another time she may be more favour
able." This Spanish version of
" He that fights and runs away,
May live to fight another day ;
But he that is in battle slain,
Will never rise to fight again,"
had its effect, and the king, mounting a fresh horse,
galloped from the field.
" The King of Castile had that day," says Froissart,
" ordered a knight of his household, called Sir Peter
Harem, to bear his helmet. This helmet was encir
cled with gold, and might be worth twenty thousand
francs. The king intended wearing it at the battle,
and had so ordered it in the morning he marched from
Santarem ; but he did not do so, for when the army
was forming, there was so great a crowd round the king
the knight could not come near ; and not hearing him
self called, he ceased to attempt it. Shortly after
wards he heard that the Portuguese had gained the
day, and saw his own army flying in all directions ;
fearful of losing so rich a jewel as the king's helmet
that was valued so highly, he put it on his own head,
not to lose it, nor have it stolen from him by meeting
the enemy, and fled. It appears that three days after
wards, the knight cast himself at the feet of the king
and restored the helmet, making such fair excuses that
the king and his council held him blameless."
" After the defeat of the Spaniards at Aljubarrota, the
Portuguese king and his forces kept the field of battle ;
the slaughter was great, and would have been more if

220 GUARDING THE DEAD.
they had pursued the enemy ; for the English, seeing
the enemy turn their backs, called aloud to the King
of Portugal, ' Sir King ! let us mount our horses,
and set out on the pursuit, and all these runaways
shall be dead men.' — ' I will not,' replied the king:
' what we have done ought to satisfy us ; our men are
fatigued, and have fought hard this evening : it is now
so dark that we know not whither we are going, nor
how many are flying. Their army is very numerous,
and perhaps this may be a stratagem to draw us out
of our fort, and the more easily to conquer us. We
will this day guard the dead, and to-morrow call a
council and consider how we shall next act.' "
" ' By my faith ! ' replied Hartsel, an Englishman,
' the dead are easily guarded ; they will do us no
harm, nor shall we have any profit from them, for
we have slain our rich prisoners. We are strangers,
come from a distance to serve you, and would wil
lingly gain something from these calves that are flying
without wings, and who drive their banners before
them.' — ' Fair brother,' said the king, ' all covet, all
lose : it is much better that we remain on our guard,
since the honour and victory are ours, through God's
grace, than run any risk when there is no necessity for
it. Thanks to God, we have enough to make you all
rich.' Nothing more was said on the subject."
The worthy chronicler sums up his account of the
battle by saying, " There were slain about five hun
dred knights, and full as many, if not more squires,
which was a great pity, and six or seven thousand
other men : God have mercy on their poor souls ! "

THE OLD SOLDIER. 221
The following anecdote is quoted from Murphy.
" Don John was so secure in the affections of his sub
jects, that he frequently walked abroad without any
attendants. In one of his morning perambulations he
chanced to observe an old man, who was lame and
blind, at the opposite side of a rivulet, awaiting till
some one came to guide his steps over a plank thrown
across it. As there was no one at hand but the king,
he instantly approached, threw him on his shoulder,
and carried him in that posture to the next road. The
poor man, surprised at the ease with which he was car
ried, exclaimed, ' I wish Don John had a legion of
such stout fellows to humble the pride of the Cas
tilians, who deprived me of the use of my leg.' Here,
at the request of the king, he gave a short account of
the several actions in which he had been engaged. In
the sequel, his majesty recollected that this was Fon-
seca, the brave soldier who had courageously fought
by his side in the memorable battle of Aljubarrota,
that fixed the crown on his head. Grieved to see him
in such a distressed state, he desired him to call next
morning at the royal palace, to know how he came to
be neglected by his servants in power. ' Whom shall
I inquire for ? ' quoth the brave Bellisarius. ' For
your gallant companion at the battle of Aljubarrota,'
replied the king, departing. A person, who at a dis
tance witnessed the scene, shortly after accosted Fon-
seca, and informed him of what his sovereign had done.
' Ah ! ' said he, when he recovered from his surprise,
' I am now convinced of the truth of what has often
been asserted ; the shoulders of monarchs are certainly

222 A MARVELLOUS STORY.
accustomed to bear great burthens. I rejoice in hav
ing devoted the prime of my life to the service of one
who, like the prince of Uz, is legs to the lame and eyes
to the blind.' "
Among the combatants at Aljubarrota was the Arch
bishop of Braga, who, with reference to the chagrin
exhibited by the King of Castile at his defeat, writes,
"The constable hath informed me that he saw the
King of Castile at Santarem, who behaved as a mad
man, cursing his existence, and tearing his beard.
And in troth, my good friend, it is better he should
do so to himself than to us ; the man who plucks his
own beard, would be much better pleased to do so
unto others."
Froissart,with reference to the battle of Aljubarrota,
mentions a " fact," which, he says, not without reason,
" will astonish my readers if they consider and pay
attention to it." It appears that the Count de Foix,
for three whole days, namely, Sunday, Monday, and
Tuesday, was so greatly depressed in spirits, that he
would suffer no one, not even his nearest relatives, to
speak to him. On the last of the three days, he called
to him his brother Arnold William, and said to him,
in a low voice, " Our people have had a desperate
battle, which has vexed me very much, for it has
happened to them just as I had foretold at their de
parture." Arnold made no reply ; when the other continued,
prefacing his asseveration with an oath, " Sir Arnold,
it is just as I have told you, and very soon we shall
have news of it. Never has the country of Beam

A QUESTION OF TITHES.

223

suffered so severely for these hundred years past, as it
has now at this battle in Portugal."
The knights, and others who were present at the
dialogue, were greatly puzzled by this account of a
battle of which they had heard nothing before ; but, in
due time, the news of the engagement arrived, thus
confirming the words ofthe count. As, however, the
story goes on to state, the count could not have been
apprized so early of a battle which occurred at so
great a distance, the inference drawn by his knights
and squires was, that " he must have known it by
means of necromancy ;" and in support of this opinion,
one of the squires adduces an instance of supernatural
agency which we will briefly give.
A certain baron, called Raymond, Lord of Corasse,
being at issue with a priest on a question of tithes,
the case was referred to the pope, Urban V., who de
cided against the nobleman. The priest hastened in
triumph to the baron with a copy of the sentence,
backed by the pope's bull, not doubting that Ray
mond would yield implicit and instant obedience to
the mandate. He, however, reckoned without his
host, for the baron, turning round upon him, said,
" Master Peter, do you think I will lose my inheri
tance through the papers you have brought hither ?"
and concluded, with an intimation, that if the priest
dared to take his tithes, his life should " pay for it."
Master Peter told him that " he behaved exceed
ingly ill, and that he would send a champion, of whom
the baron would be more afraid than he had hitherto
been of the priest." Raymond was not easily fright-

224 THE INVISIBLE GUEST.
ened, at least by threats, for he replies : " Go, in
God's name, go, and do what thou canst ; I fear thee
neither dead nor alive, and for thy speeches I will not
lose my property."
The baron heard nothing more of the matter for
three months ; but when, as the chronicler says, " he
least thought of it, and was sleeping in bed with his
lady, there came invisible messengers," who made
such a horrid riot in the castle, destroying the furni
ture, and knocking so loudly at the baron's door,
that " the lady was exceedingly frightened." This
game was repeated on the following night ; when the
baron, determining not to put up with it, jumped out
of bed in a paroxysm of wrath, and demanded who it
was that thus disturbed his peace. The invisible visi
tor replied, " It is I," and proceeded to state that his
name was Orthon, and explained to him that he was
sent by the priest to plague the baron until he restored
the tithes. Raymond then told him that he was a
fool for serving a clerk who would doubtless give
him much trouble, and proposed to the spirit to quit
the priest's service and enter into his.
Orthon, it seems, became so attached to the baron,
that he came very often to him in the night, when he
would pluck the pillow from under the sleeping lord ;
and when the latter, not caring to be disturbed, would
say, " Orthon, let me sleep;" the other would reply,
" I will not, until I have told thee some news," and
forthwith began to relate events which had occurred in
some remote kingdom on the preceding day. During
these dialogues, the baron's lady was wont to hide

A MAN OF STRAW. 225
herself under the bed-clothes, while, says the story,
her " hair stood on end."
In the course of time, the baron became desirous of
seeing " what form his visitor had;" a wish which the
spirit at first refused to gratify, but at last told him
that he would show himself to the other on the fol
lowing morning. The next day, however, came and
passed without a visit from Orthon, whom the baron
accordingly reproached, at night, for breaking his
word, saying, " Go, thou art a liar ; thou oughtest to
have shown thyself to me this morning, and hast not
done so."
" No ! " replied Orthon ; " but I have."
The baron persisted that he had seen nothing, when
Orthon replied, " And did you see nothing at all
when you leaped out of bed ?"
" Yes," said the other, " I saw two straws, which
were turning and playing together on the floor."
"That was myself," rejoined Orthon; "for I had
taken that form."
" That will not satisfy me," answered the baron.
" I beg of thee to assume some other shape, that I
may see thee and know thee."
" You ask so much," returned the spirit, " that
you will ruin me and force me away from you, for
your requests are too great; however," he continued,
" you shall see me to-morrow, if you pay attention
to the first thing you observe when you leave your
chamber." Accordingly, on the following morning, the baron,
on quitting his apartment, looked out into the court-
Q

22b A NIGHT SCENE.
yard of his castle ; but the only thing he saw was an
enormous sow. so poor that " she seemed only skin
and bones, with long hanging ears, all spotted, and a
sharp-pointed lean snout." The baron was so dis
gusted at the sight, that, calling to his servants, he
said, " Let the dogs loose quickly, for I will have that
sow killed and devoured." The sow, however, uttered
a loud crv. and, casting a reproachful look at the
baron, vanished. Raymond was then convinced that
it was his faithful Orthon upon whom he had set the
dogs. The spirit — and one can scarcely blame him
— took the matter in high dudgeon, and never visited
the baron afterwards.
We will conclude the chapter by quoting a story,
which we have the best authority for stating is
literally true. It is extracted from Mr. Beckford's
Alcobaca and Batalha, which, if other proof were
wanting, would place the genius of its richly gifted
author beyond question. The circumstance narrated
occurred to Mr. Beckford during his stay at the mo
nastery. " I had no wish to sleep, and yet my pleasant
retired chamber, with clean white walls, chequered
with the reflection of waving boughs, and the sound
of a rivulet, softened by distance, invited it sooth
ingly. Seating myself in the deep recess of a capa
cious window, which was wide open, I suffered the
balsamic air and serene moonlight to quiet my agi
tated spirits. One lonely nightingale had taken pos
session of a bay-tree just beneath me, and was pouring
forth its ecstatic notes at distant intervals.

MYSTERIOUS DENUNCIATION. ill
" In one of those long pauses, when silence itself,
enhanced by contrast, seemed to become still deeper,
a far different sound than the last I had been listening
to caught my ear; the sound of a loud but melan
choly voice echoing through the arched avenues of
a vast garden, pronouncing, distinctly, these appal
ling words: — 'Judgment! judgment! tremble at the
anger of an offended God ! Woe to Portugal ! woe !

woe

" My hair stood on end — I felt as if a spirit were
about to pass before me ; but instead of some fearful
shape, some horrid shadow, such as appeared in vision
to Eliphaz, there issued forth, from a dark thicket, a
tall, majestic, deadly pale old man ; he neither looked
about nor above him ; he moved slowly on, his eye
fixed as stone, sighing profoundly; and, at the dis
tance of some fifty paces from the spot where I was
stationed," renewed his doleful cry : his fatal procla
mation, — 'Woe! woe!' resounded through the still
atmosphere, repeated by the echoes of vaults and
arches, and the sounds died away; and the spectre
like form that seemed to emit them retired, I know
not how, nor whither. Shall I confess that my blood
ran cold — that all idle, all wanton thoughts left my
bosom, and that I passed an hour or two at my win
dow fixed and immovable? Just as day dawned, I
crept to bed and fell into a profound sleep, uninter
rupted, I thank Heaven, by dreams.
" A delightful morning sun was shining in all its
splendour, when I awoke, and ran to the balcony
to look at the garden and wild hills, and to ask
q2

228 THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED.
myself, ten times over, whether the form I had seen,
and the voice I had heard, were real or imaginary. I
had scarcely dressed, and was preparing to sally
forth, when a distinct tap at my door, gentle but im
perative, startled me.
" The door opened, and the prior of Batalha stood
before me. ' You were disturbed, I fear,' said he,
' in the dead of the night, by a wailful voice, loudly
proclaiming severe impending judgments. I heard it
also, and I shuddered, as I always do, when I hear
it. Do not, however, imagine that it proceeds from
another world. The being who uttered these dire
sounds is still upon the earth, a member of our con
vent, — an exemplary, a most holy man, a scion of one
of our greatest families, and a near relative of the
Duke of Aveiro, of whose dreadful, agonizing fate you
must have heard. He was then in the pride of youth
and comeliness, gay as sunshine, volatile as you now
appear to be. He had accompanied the devoted duke
to a sumptuous ball, given by your nation to our high
nobility; — at the very moment when splendour, tri
umph, and merriment were at their highest pitch, the
executioners of Pombal's decrees, soldiers and ruffians,
pounced down upon their prey; he too was of the
number arrested — he too was thrown into a deep, cold
dungeon : his life was spared ; and, in the course of
years and events, the slender, lovely youth, now be
come a wasted, care- worn" man, emerged to sorrow
and loneliness.
" ' The blood of his dearest relatives seemed sprink
led upon every object that met his eyes ; he never

A WALKING SEPULCHRE. 229
passed Belem without fancying he beheld, as in a sort
of frightful dream, the scaffold, the wheels on which
those he best loved had expired in torture. The cur
rent of his young, hot blood was frozen ; he felt, be
numbed and paralysed ; the world, the court, had no
charms for him ; there was for him no longer warmth
in the sun, or smiles on the human countenance: a
stranger to love or fear, or any interest on this side
the grave, he gave up his entire soul to prayer ; and
to follow that sacred occupation with greater intense-
ness, renounced every prospect of worldly comfort or
greatness, and embraced our order.
" ' Full eight-and-twenty years has he remained
within these walls, so deeply impressed with the convic
tion of the Duke of Aveiro's innocence, the atrocious
falsehood of that pretended conspiracy, and the con
sequent unjust tyrannical expulsion of the order of St.
Ignatius, that he believes — and the belief of so pure
and so devout a man is always venerable — that the
horrors now perpetrating in France are the direct
consequence of that event, and certain of being
brought home to Portugal; which kingdom he declares
is foredoomed to desolation, and its royal house to
punishments worse than death.
" ' He seldom speaks ; he loathes conversation ; he
spurns news of any kind ; he shrinks from strangers ;
he is constant at his duty in the choir — most severe
in his fasts, vigils, and devout observances ; he pays
me canonical obedience — nothing more : he is a
living grave, a walking sepulchre. I dread to see
or hear him ; for every time he crosses my path, be-

230 A PROPHECY.
yond the immediate precincts of our basilica, he makes
a dead pause, and repeats the same terrible words you
heard last night with an astounding earnestness, as if
commissioned by God himself to deliver them. And,
do you know, my lord stranger, there are moments of
my existence when I firmly believe he speaks the
words of prophetic truth : and who, indeed, can reflect
upon the unheard-of crimes committed in France, —
the massacres, the desecrations, the frantic blasphe
mies, and not believe them? Yes, the arm of an
avenging God is stretched out — and the weight of
impending judgment is most terrible.' "

HABITS OF THE MONKS. 231

CHAPTER VIII.

BATALHA.

Habits of the Monks — Grotesque Pilgrim — The Dead Stork —
Present State of the Monastery — A Legend of Batalha —
Departure.
Murphy, speaking of the habits of the fathers of
Batalha in his time, says, " During a residence of
thirteen weeks in this abode of peace and hospitality,
I experienced every politeness and attention from the
fathers, who, in every respect, consistently with the
duties of their order, practised the virtuous precepts of
their sacred religion. In their mode of living there ap
pears nothing to envy, but a great deal to admire and
commend. They eat but twice in the four-and-twenty
hours; dine at eleven o'clock, and sup at eight. The
daily allowance of each is two small loaves, one
pound and a quarter of meat, the same quantity of
fish, besides soup, rice, wine, and fruit: a great part
of this is distributed among the poor. The rules of
their order they observe with most scrupulous rigi
dity ; they are mustered every morning, in winter at
day-break, and in summer at five o'clock; then each
brings a vase full of water from the fountain to wash

232 grotesque pilgrim.
in before he enters the choir. Their cleanliness, re
gularity, and exemption from the anxieties of the
world, contribute to preserve their health and facul
ties unimpaired to a very old age. And, notwithstand
ing the bodily infirmities wliich physicians ascribe
to a state of inactive life, every father in the convent
exhibited a pleasing exception to this maxim ; for I
could not discern one drooping with the weight of
years, or who had lost a tooth, or who had an eye
dimmed with defluxion, though some of them had
attained to the age of ninety and upwards. Such is
the wise dispensation of Providence, that those men
who have voluntarily secluded themselves from the
mingled cares and enjoyments of the world, are com
pensated, even on this side of the grave, by a long and
serene evening of old age, free from the infirmities,
disappointments, and painful reflections which em
bitter the expiring days of the libertine and incon
siderate." The following anecdote from the same pen, is far
too rich to be omitted. " On the nineteenth of March,
a French pilgrim, who styled himself Viscount Cla-
rarde, visited the convent. The prior received him
with every mark of respect and civility due to the
high rank he assumed, during the three days he tarried
with us, and greatly recommended himself by the
agreeableness of his manners. His age might be about
thirty ; he was of a middle stature, had short black
hair, and a countenance which betrayed more of the
levity of a rambler than of the piety of the pilgrim.
He was dressed in a long grey coat, a tawdry laced

HKDHTnHnaKnr <ow boh johlkt, ba^ailihla.,,

FcSUahedQct.'aa. 1856, "by Robert J<rnniQ$5 icC° Q2, Chesmnde

A SEVERE DISCIPLINARIAN. 233
waistcoat, and a slouched hat, mounted with a rusty
cockade; a sable scapulet of oil-cloth, studded with
variegated shells, adorned his shoulders. From his
neck and girdle were suspended rosaries of different
sizes, together with a tin case and a pouch.
" A lusty fellow, just deserted from the French
service, attended this pilgrim, and carried his baggage
in a sheep-skin wallet. He was now about to desert
from his master's service, in consequence ofthe severity
of his discipline ; for as the count conceived him to
be a greater sinner than himself, he oftener applied
the knotty cord of St. Francis to his shoulders than
to his own. The prior, however, so far accommodated
matters, that they departed in peace."
We cannot help suspecting that the pilgrim was
more of a mountebank than a viscount, and amused
himself, as well as boarded and lodged, at the expense
of the simple-minded brotherhood.
Murphy adds, that during his residence at Batalha,
he had an opportunity of witnessing the parental ten
derness which poets and naturalists ascribe to the
stork. " One of these birds, with his affectionate
mate, has resided for ages [?] in a large nest curi
ously formed on the calceolus foliage which crowns
the spire of the church. As Solomon sent the slug
gard to the ant to learn industry, so the disobedient
child would learn examples of filial piety from the
numerous progeny of this connubial pair. The
fathers and the people of the village would deem it
little less than sacrilege to molest them, and indeed
their humane protection is amply repaid by the ser-

234 THE DEAD STORK.
vices they render the country, in destroying serpents,
lizards, and other obnoxious reptiles."
Mr. Beckford, also, in his account of this monas
tery, gives an instance of the attachment subsisting
between one of these interesting birds and a youth in
the establishment of Batalha :
" The flamingo," says our author, " was there, but
I missed the stork, and knew but too soon the cause of
his being missed ; for, upon ascending the steps before
the chapter-house, I discovered him lying stretched
out upon the pavement stiff and dead. One of the
boys stood bending over him in an attitude expressive
of the deepest sorrow. The youth saw I compassion
ated him, and murmured out in a low desponding
voice : ' This poor bird followed me all the way from
my home in Alemtejo — a long distance from Batalha.
He was the joy of my life, and dearly loved by my
mother, who is dead. I shall never see her again in
this world, nor hear the cheering cry of this our fond
household-bird calling me up in the morning : he will
receive no more crumbs from my hand — he will keep
faithfully by my side no longer. I have no one now
in this grand place who loves me ! ' and he burst into
a flood of bitter tears, and it was a relief to my own
heart — a great relief — to join in his mourning.
" The prior, who happened to come up at this mo
ment, could not at first imagine what had affected me ;
but when I pointed to the boy and the lifeless stork,
he entered into my feelings with his characteristic
benevolence, and spoke words of comfort to the poor
weeping child with such true parental kindness, as

PRESENT STATE OF THE MONASTERY. 235
seemed to assure him he had still a friend. Touched
to the heart, the boy fell on his knees, and kissed the
pavement and his stork at the same time. I left him
extending his arms to the good prior in an act of
supplication, which I learnt afterwards had not been
treated with cold indifference."
The present state of Batalha we cannot better de
scribe than by quoting Mr. Kinsey, who, on his recent
visit, remarks, " The French had made a kitchen of
this room, (the sacristy,) stolen all the rich vestments,
gold and silver chalices and candlesticks, and had
lighted their fires with the wood- work of the drawers.
The present condition of the building, we find, upon a
close examination of its interior, to be almost ruinous,
the work of the Philistine armies of France. The foun
der's chapel," he continues, " is in tolerable repair ;
but still the monuments are very much degraded, and
the marble effigies have been shamefully mutilated
by the French. The British soldiers," he adds, and
the contrast is most honourable to our national taste,
" have contented themselves with doing no other
injury than merely scribbling their names by whole
companies upon the walls, concluding with the usual
' We were here on such a day.' "
Of our own knowledge we may add, that the sole
permanent inhabitants of this magnificent pile are rats
and fleas ; although it is a joke — and nothing more
we fear — of the inhabitants of the village, that the
latter species of annoyance was carried away by a
Portuguese prince and his attendants in a recent visit
to the monastery.

236 A LEGEND OF BATALHA.
During our stay, mass was performed once or twice
by a priest, who, however, so far from deriving any
emolument from his office, was entirely dependant
upon the charity of the villagers for his daily meals.
The keys of the monastery are in the keeping of the
functionary to whose kindness we were indebted for
our accommodation while at Batalha ; and we believe
that most of the portable decorations of the edifice,
which the depredations of modern Vandalism have
spared, are also in his custody. We remember on
one occasion, when our host was expecting some rela
tions, who were about to visit a fair or festa in the
neighbourhood, that our servant, at the suggestion
of our hostess, requested permission to ornament
our bed with a counterpane, which, to our eyes, had
marvellously the appearance of an altar cloth. We of
course consented ; stipulating, however, that John
would shake it well first.
& HEgenU of 23atal6a.
The period to which the legend refers is the early
part of the reign of Henry the Eighth, and, of course,
some years before the suppression of monastic esta
blishments in England; and the scene to which we are
at first introduced was then one of the wildest and
most wooded parts of Hampshire, where was a small
but substantial building coming under the denomina
tion of a grange, the dwelling of Mabel Whitaker, a
widow, and her two sons. The young men, who,
being minors, were under the guardianship of their
mother, displayed a remarkable dissimilitude of dis-

A LEGEND OF BATALHA. 237
position, although they had been brought up under
the same roof, and the difference in their respective
ages amounted to but two years. Richard, the elder,
was passionately addicted to the rude sports of the
time, and especially to the pleasures of the chase, in
which the patronage of a neighbouring noble enabled
him frequently to indulge. He was of commanding
height, strongly, if not symmetrically formed, and his
countenance was one of uncommon beauty.
His brother Hubert, although he had scarcely
known an hour's illness from his birth, had not the
iron frame which distinguished Richard, neither did
his inclinations point to those pursuits in which the
other delighted. Nevertheless, he was good humoured
and cheerful ; for, although he occasionally loved to
worship Nature in her quiet haunts and sylvan soli
tudes, his mind was tinged with none of that morbid,
moody melancholy, for which the contemplative and
studious youth is sometimes remarkable. In using
the word studious, it is not intended to imply that he
was deep in book learning ; for like most young men
ofthe age in which he lived, his acquirements in that
particular were slight; but he was addicted to the
study of that book which lies spread open to every
one, and which those who run may read, — the glorious
book of Nature, whose language is common to all.
Although he loved to " pore upon the brook that
babbles by," and although he drank in the beauties
of the dew-dipped landscape, forest, field, and fell
with a thirsty eye, he was not a poet, or if he were, his
poetry lay buried in his " heart of hearts," for it never

238 A LEGEND OF BATALHA.
mounted to his lips. Yet he was not without his gifts
of genius, and if he had not the poetry of language, he
had the poetry of form.
Hubert, when a mere boy, had given indications of
a taste for painting, and his sketches, rough though they
were, and unnoticed by those within whose sphere he
dwelt, were neither disregarded nor unappreciated by
one who had no mean skill in the art himself. That
individual was his paternal uncle, Father Anselm,
one of a community of Dominican friars inhabiting a
neighbouring monastery. The pious father, not only
improved his pupil in the principles of the art, but
taught him, as a medium for the display of his talents,
the mystery of staining glass.
It happened that within a short distance of his
mother's dwelling there lived a yeoman, a warm
friend of his father, and who still kept up an intimacy
with the widow and her sons. The yeoman had a
daughter, Maude, whose beauty, lovely as she was,
might not have attracted the eye of Hubert, or rather
he might not have dared to lift his eye to her beauty,
had she not taken an interest in the specimens he had
given of his talents as a painter. Whether Hubert,
— and a less vain man, if such could have existed,
might have done so, — mistook the admiration bestow
ed upon his works for a tenderer feeling towards him
self, or whether any such feeling was really excited in
his favour in the first instance, it is impossible to de
termine. Certain it is, that his sentiments of affection
towards her were of the most intense and, as circum
stances proved, of the most enduring character; and

A LEGEND OF BATALHA. 239
it is equally certain, that if the damsel ever entertained
for him a reciprocal feeling, it was speedily effaced by
the — to her eye — superior attractions of his brother ;
nor, ignorant as she probably was of the state of
Hubert's affections, may we greatly blame her for her
preference. Hubert, however, saw that preference, and from the
hour in which he made the discovery, his peace was
gone ; nor was his anguish in any degree mitigated by
the conviction, that while she pronounced his doom,
she was sealing her own. He well knew, and before
the blight had fallen upon his first and only love, had
bitterly lamented the fierce and ungovernable temper
of his brother, which want of opportunity, and per
haps Richard's powers of dissimulation, had prevented
Maude from discovering.
But the die was cast; and, although Hubert was
conscious that he had been unworthily supplanted, he
also felt that his lips should be the last to denounce
his brother. The bitterness of his feelings were fur
ther augmented by the recollection that he was a por
tionless child, and that, in a few short months, his
elder brother's accession to the patrimonial property
would cast him without a coin upon the world; for
the idea of dependance upon his successful rival — -
brother though he were — was to his spirit wormwood
and gall.
In this state of perplexity and sorrow, he naturally
looked round for a friend to whom to pour out his
soul. From his mother, alas ! who was wrapped up
in her elder born, he could look for little sympathy,

240 A LEGEND OF BATALHA.
and therefore, although his monastic habits were not
likely to enlist his feelings on the side of Hubert, the
latter resolved to acquaint Father Anselm with the
state of his heart.
He did so ; and when he had finished his sad story,
expressed his resolution of taking the cowl, and im
plored his relative to aid him in carrying his inten
tions into effect. Anselm heard him patiently and
attentively, although in silence, to the end, and then
replied : " Hubert, I have loved thee, from the time
when thou wert yet a child at my knee, with an inten
sity of affection which passeth words ; and though I
have renounced the world, I have not shut up my
heart against the afflictions of those who dwell in it,
and especially of thee, my son. But, although I can
understand and appreciate the feelings of bitterness
under which thou art smarting, I also know that they
are of a character which blind the reason while they
pierce the heart, and that repentance, — deep and en
during, as it would be unavailing, — would follow the
adoption of the step thou contemplatest. My head
hath grown grey in my order, and of the members
of the community whom I found here when I entered
these walls, by far the greater number are sleeping
quietly beneath them. It were less than Christian
charity to suppose but that, in taking the vows, each
believed that he was moved thereunto by a godly spi
rit ; but of nothing are we so ignorant, nor by aught
so easily deceived, as our own sinful hearts; and
thus, the first fresh anguish of disappointed avarice,
foiled ambition, or blighted affection, has been mis-

A LEGEND OF BATALHA. 211
taken for the holy aspirations of a spirit dead to the
vanities and vexations of this fluctueiting world. In
some instances, doubtless, there are no after longings to
return to it ; but these are cases in which those who
seek the cloister have arrived at that period of life
when the fires of human passions have burnt out, and
left but the ashes, which rest here for a brief season
on their way to the tomb. But how often, — when the
impulse which led them to take the cowl has under
gone the change that passeth upon all things human,
and especially upon human passion, — have I observed
the spirit of the warrior chafing within his bosom, and
his brow flush, and his eye kindle, when the tidings
of distant battles have reached our peaceful sanc
tuary ! How often have I heard from those who, like
thyself, have loved, warmly but not wisely, long
ings after a world to which, although renounced by
the lips, the heart clings as fondly and fatally as ever !
Nay, Hifbert, I will not hide from thee, that though
by Heaven's grace my eyes are now fixed upon a
world which knows neither chance nor change, time
hath been when I have wrestled fearfully against my
uneradicated affection for this !
" No, Hubert," continued the venerable father,
after a brief pause; "it may not be, — at least not
now. Thou hast talents which were not meant to be
buried in the cloister : go, dedicate them to the glory
of Him to whom thou owest the gift. I am advised
that artificers in the way of thy genius are craved
for the gorgeous, though yet unfinished monastery of
Batalha. I will procure for thee letters to the prior
R

242 A LEGEND OF BATALHA.
thereof, which will be a sure warrant to thee for his
favour, and under his auspices thou wilt acquire
wealth and, what thou prizest more, — fame ; while the
change of scene and the excitement of the enterprise
may win thy mind from those gloomy contemplations
which will cloud it here. Thou shalt want neither
purse nor scrip for thy journey ; and if, when thou
hast given my counsel a fair trial, the shadow yet
rests upon thy spirit, return to thy native land ; and
if thou shalt be still minded to become one of our
order, I will not thwart thy wishes."
The heart, in the agony of recent laceration, turns
from the voice of consolation ; like the bereaved
Rachel, it refuseth to be comforted : and thus Hubert
neither desired nor anticipated the mitigation of his
sorrow, which Anselm expected a change of scene
would effect ; nor would the pious father's well-meant
appeal to his nephew's ambition have been more suc
cessful in moving him to embrace the offer. But
there was another feeling which determined Hubert
on accepting it, — the gloomy, morbid satisfaction, —
undefinable, nor easily traced perhaps, but, never
theless, ever experienced by the voluntary exile.
It was on the third day after this interview, that
Mabel Whitaker and her elder son were sitting together
over their evening repast, when Hubert suddenly en
tered the apartment, girded for a journey, and with
his staff in his hand. He had never enjoyed a fair
share of his mother's affection, and he knew it, — yet
he knew not wherefore.
He announced his determination, briefly stating his

A LEGEND OF BATALHA. 2-13
views, but not glancing at the motive which especially
induced him to quit his native land for that of the
stranger. Mabel and her favourite son listened with
surprise, and if any softer feeling was stirring within
them, they did not betray it ; but when Hubert bowed
himself to his mother's knee and begged her parting
blessing, the faltering voice in which she pronounced
it, showed that the fount of maternal affection had not
ceased to flow for him. Yet she did not urge a sylla
ble against the step upon which he had resolved ;
probably because, cognizant of his real but unavowed
motive, she deemed that the change of scene might
contribute to tranquillize his wounded spirit ; or saw,
perhaps, in the enterprise, that provision for him in
another country, which there was little prospect of his
securing in his own ; or, it may be, that, aware of the
firmness and decision of his character, she felt that
remonstrance would be but a waste of words.
Richard, however, interposed by saying, " The mat
ter in hand must needs be urgent, that thou canst not
stay to do honour to thy brother's marriage."
Hubert shuddered as with a sudden ague, and his
countenance changed, and his lips were of the hue
of ashes.
" Hah ! " exclaimed Richard, in a tone partaking
alike of surprise and anger, as the new conviction
passed like a lightning flash across his mind, " then
thou didst love Maude ! "
" And thou hast won her, my brother," was the
calm reply of Hubert, who had regained his self-pos
session, " and let that content thee ; and," he added,
r 2

244 A LEGEND OF BATALHA.
with a fervency which stamped sincerity upon his
prayer, " may Heaven bless to thee the treasure thou
hast gained ! She is a lovely flower, but a fragile ; and
oh ! be warned, my brother : she would perish beneath
the stormy gusts of passion which are wont to pass,
like a whirlwind, over thy bosom. Nay, Richard, let
not the last look thou easiest upon the companion
and friend of thy boyhood be one of wrath. My
warning was meant in kindness to thee and to her,
whose name will never pass my lips again. I know
the infirmity of thy ardent temperament, and I coun
sel thee to pray against the evil spirit when the temp
tation cometh upon thee, for of thine own strength
thou canst not resist him. Bear with me, my bro
ther ; if I have been a thorn in thy path, I shall
cumber it no more. Farewell, Richard ! farewell,
my mother ! and may the blessing of Heaven ever
rest upon a roof which hath so long sheltered us all ! "
And Hubert turned and went forth on his journey.
The chastened rays of the setting sun shed their mel
low tints upon tree and turret, and their softness upon
the heart of the wanderer ; for he never felt the beau
ties of that peaceful valley so deeply as now that he
was about to quit for ever a scene hallowed by so
many happy memories, and endearing — albeit melan
choly associations. Nevertheless, he strode onwards
with a firm step, until he attained the crest of the hill
which shut out that scene, as it were, from the rest of
the world ; and from that eminence he gazed upon the
lichened turrets of the ancient monastery, on which
the beams of the sinking sun fell like a smile upon the

A LEGEND OF BATALHA. 245
face of age, and he thought, — tenderly thought, — of
the grey-headed counsellor of his youth, the pious
Anselm. He turned his tearful eyes from the hallowed fane,
and they fell upon the blue smoke curling up into the
sunshine from a clump of trees, and he thought, with
bitter but unavailing anguish, of the fair girl who
filled that wood-embosomed dwelling with the glad
ness of her beauty. Her form rose up, vividly pic
tured in his imagination as when he looked his last
upon her loveliness, and the troubled fountain of his
grief burst forth, and he hid his face in his hands,
and wept over the wrecked argosy of his happiness.
But, deep as was his sorrow, his indulgence of it
was brief; he dashed the tears from his cheek, and
set out on his way with a broken heart and the wide
waste of the world before him. He gained the sea
port whence he was to embark, and the passage was
a perilous one ; but the stricken spirit quails not to
danger, for though he courted not death, he had no
tie to life ; and thus, while even those who were fa
miliar with the terrors of the deep were shrieking in
the agony of despair, Hubert gazed upon the tempest
with an unblenching brow.
But the voice, which " even the winds and the waves
obey," went forth, and the storm was stayed, and the
bark sped on her way in safety, and the port was
gained. Hubert presented the missive of his uncle,
the monk, to the prior of the monastery of Batalha,
whose favour, thus bespoken, was effectually secured
by the proofs which Hubert soon gave of his skill in

246 A LEGEND OF BATALHA.
the embellishment of the windows of that splendid
edifice. Hubert's labours attracted the notice, not only of
the prior and other officers of the establishment, but,
in a short time, that of the king himself, who often
visited the monastery for the purpose of watching the
progress of the works. But the praises of monk and
monarch were alike indifferent to the Englishman,
who, although he did not refuse the golden guerdon
of his toils, appeared to set little store by the wealth
they produced.
Hubert had, early after his arrival at the monastery,
taken up his dwelling in the village of Canveira, at
the house of a widow, whose poverty induced her to
receive him as an inmate, in order to increase the
scanty pittance upon which she and her daughter had
previously subsisted. His national reserve of charac
ter, added to his melancholy temperament, at first
impressed his hostess with a notion that he was cold
and proud ; but this impression gradually wore off,
as the generous and noble disposition of the English
man became developed, and the widow began to look
upon him in the light of a friend.
There is a selfishness in the grief even of the best
of us, which renders us blind to the misery of others;
and thus it was that Hubert did not at first remark,
what was afterwards apparent to him, that Teresa, for
such was the name of the widow, was the victim of a
sorrow, for the source of which he was disposed to
look beyond the immediate pressure of her circum
stances.

A LEGEND OF BATALHA. 217
It was on one occasion, that, returning somewhat
earlier than usual from his diurnal task, he found
Teresa with her child upon her knee, weeping bit
terly. Hubert kindly inquired the cause of her afflic
tion, when she informed him that her husband had
once been the proprietor of lands and flocks ; but
having been the victim of a conspiracy, he was de
spoiled of his possessions by a powerful noble, and
had finally died heart-broken by his misfortunes. She
added, that for herself she could endure poverty and
privation with an unrepining spirit ; but that when
she gazed upon her child, and thought how utterly
destitute she would be cast upon the world, when she,
her then surviving parent, was taken from her, she
could not contemplate the prospect without the most
poignant anguish.
The free spirit of the Englishman burned within
him as he listened to the recital of the widow's
wrongs ; and when she had finished her story, he
inquired if she had never appealed to the justice of
the king.
" Alas ! " was the reply, " my efforts to win my way
to the royal ear have been fruitless ; for my oppressor
is high in power, and hath hitherto barred my ap
proach to the throne."
" Thinkest thou," inquired Hubert, " that thou
couldst prove thy case against thine adversary, if an
audience could be obtained for thee?"
" Ay," was the reply, " as clearly as the sun shineth
at noon : but thou mockest me, stranger."
" I jest not with misery," answered Hubert ; " thou

248 A LEGEND OF BATALHA.
desirest to see the king, and thou shalt meet him face
to face."
" But his court is far off," interposed Teresa, " and
had I strength for the journey, I lack the means of
sustenance by the way."
" It will not need," was the rejoinder ; " he shall
come to thee /"
"Nay, now thou mockest me indeed!" exclaimed
the widow with a look of reproach ; " what meanest
thou?" "That thou shalt have justice, and thine own roof
shall echo the righteous sentence ; for here shalt thou
confront thine oppressor, in the presence of his master
and his judge."
" But who," asked Teresa, " will bring this miracle
to pass ? "
"I," responded the other; "but ask not how: be
ready with thy proofs, and if there be justice in the
land, thou shalt have it, and that soon."
For some days after the conversation which has
just been quoted, the Englishman spent more of his
time in his own apartment in the widow's dwelling,
and less at the monastery ; a circumstance which at
last occasioned some uneasiness on the part of the
prior, who, although at that particular juncture Hu
bert's aid was not urgently required in the department
confided to him in the embellishment of the edifice,
took a pleasure in the foreigner's society, and also de
rived advantage from consulting his taste.
Hubert, however, made his appearance at the mo
nastery at intervals for some weeks, until, at last,

A LEGEND OF BATALHA. 249
several successive days having passed without his at
tendance, the prior despatched a lay-brother to the
widow's dwelling to ascertain the cause. The mes
senger returned with a respectful request, that the prior
would honour the English artist with a visit on the
following evening an hour before sunset.
The regard which the worthy father entertained for
Hubert would have ensured compliance, had the sin
gularity of the appointment failed to do so ; and ac
cordingly, the prior paced forth on his sleek mule,
and was at Teresa's door at the hour appointed. The
building was spacious, yet from its ruinous condition
but a few of its apartments were habitable. The room
occupied by Hubert had a western aspect, and was of
large and, with reference to its scanty furniture, some
what comfortless dimensions. On the prior's arrival,
the door of the apartment was flung open, and the
scene displayed was such as to startle and somewhat
bewilder the reverend visitor.
The sun was pouring its glowing beams through a
window, the original casement of which had been re
moved, and its place supplied by one of the most glo
rious specimens ofthe art in which Hubert excelled,
that it had been the prior's lot to gaze upon. The
centre and principal figure was that of the Virgin;
for the touching beauty, softness, and sweetness of
whose features the artist had drawn upon his recol
lection of her, who was to him the concentration of
all that was perfect and lovely, and he had lavished
the riches of his gifted genius in rendering the exe
cution worthy of the design.

250 A LEGEND OF BATALHA.
The prior was, for a few moments, lost in a rapture
of wonder, and he gazed alternately upon the splendid
performance and the creator of the marvel, upon
whose noble brow the sun, pouring through the gor
geous picture, cast a halo that imparted an almost
superhuman expression to his countenance.
There was a dignity in the bearing of the artist as
he contemplated the emotion of the prior, but it was
the dignity of repose. There was in it nothing of
vain glory or triumph; and if a faint smile of satis
faction was perceptible upon his lip, it owed its origin
to a higher and a purer source than gratified ambition.
This masterpiece of art was so contrived, that it
might easily be detached from its position, and re
moved to any other window of equal or larger dimen
sions ; a circumstance which had not escaped the
observant eye of the prior, who, after giving vent to
his admiration of the picture, inquired if it were not
intended to embellish the monastery.
" If the king, our master, shall deem it worthy of
that high distinction," was the reply ; " but without
his sanction, it would not become me to indicate its
destination." The prior, unwilling, doubtless, to anticipate the
judgment of his sovereign, but at the same time eager
that so splendid a decoration should not be lost to his
monastery, did not think it prudent to urge its imme
diate removal, but took care to send such a represen
tation of its surpassing excellence to the king, as he
knew would ensure its appropriation to the purpose
for which he felt convinced it was originally intended.

A LEGEND OF BATALHA. 251
Thus it happened, that when next the king visited
the monastery, he expressed his impatience to see the
performance of which the prior had spoken in such
enthusiastic terms ; and accordingly, attended by his
whole court, he proceeded to the dwelling of Teresa,
who, residing in a part of the old building which was
remote from Hubert's apartment, was entirely uncon
scious of the wonder of art which had been wrought
under her roof. Her surprise, therefore, was not un
mixed with terror, when she saw the fulfilment of
Hubert's prediction in the approach of the royal cor
tege towards her rambling, but ruinous and penury-
stricken abode.
To the great delight of the prior, the king's admi
ration of the composition was equal to his own; and,
after expressing his approbation of it in no measured
terms, the sovereign intimated his pleasure that it
should be transferred to the royal monastery of Ba
talha, and desired the artist to name the recompense
he required for it.
" Justice for this poor widow !" was the quick, but
respectful reply; and, as he spoke, he put into the
king's hands the document upon which Teresa rested
her cause.
The king, somewhat struck by the novelty of the
application, motioned his attendants to a short dis
tance from him, and glanced over the paper; from
which, after a few minutes, he raised his eyes, and
fixing them upon his favourite, saw delinquency writ
ten on his pallid and fallen countenance.
" If this scroll say sooth," exclaimed the king,

252 A LEGEND OF BATALHA.
" there hath been foul wrong done here, and, by my
right hand, it shall be redressed. But in so doing we
but perform the duty to which we are sworn, and
therefore, Sir Englishman, thou hast yet to name thy
guerdon." " I should but rob your grace," was Hubert's reply,
" did I receive more than is already mine, — the bless
ing of the widow and the fatherless, a guerdon which
is worth a king's ransom. For the rest, I am content
that yon poor sample of my craft hath found grace in
your eyes."
The king, great as had been his admiration of the
splendid effort of art before him, was more touched
by the nobility of heart, which he forbore to offend by
persisting in his offers of reward.
" Thou art a brave youth," said the king; " and
thy virtue, like thy genius, is above all price. Since,
then, thou wilt not take our gold, at least accept our
friendship, of which be this the token;" and, as he
spoke, he drew a costly jewel from his finger, and
placed it on that of Hubert.
Nor did the monarch forget his pledge to the poor
widow, whose case was instantly and solemnly inves
tigated ; and the judgment which reinstated her in her
former affluence, condemned her oppressor to a life of
ignominy and exile.
Our legend makes little mention of Hubert's pro
ceedings during the following four years; but it in
forms us, that in that interval Richard, having been
wedded to Maude, gave such evidences of his utter
want of control over his fierce passions, that, as

A LEGEND OF BATALHA. 253
Hubert had foreboded, the spirit ofthe gentle girl sank
before their violence, and the life to which she had
fondly looked forward as one of unclouded sunshine,
was one of storm and tempest. Nor was this all : her
husband not only played the tyrant's part at home,
but wasted his substance " in riotous living," like the
prodigal in Scripture ; but, alas ! unlike him, he came
not to a better mind, but died, as he had lived, a har
dened and unrepentant man.
Thus it was that Maude found herself a widow with
an orphan son, a boy of about three years old, upon
whose fair and smiling face she could not gaze without
a tear ; for she felt that he was a beggar, and that, when
her fondly loved, though wretched husband was con
signed to the grave, she and her helpless, hapless inno
cent would be cast forth upon the wide world.
It was on the evening of the last day on which the
stem demands of the creditor, to whom her husband's
house and lands were pledged, required her to quit
her dwelling, that she was sitting with her infant in
her lap, awaiting, in tears as well as in terror, the arri
val of those who would come to claim that which she
had not to give, — the amount of the debt.
On a sudden, she heard footsteps on the hard gravel
path which led to the house, and the next moment the
latch was raised, and Father Anselm stood before her.
" Daughter," he said, " the friend of the widow
and the orphan hath heard thy prayers. Behold," he
added, placing two sealed bags on the table, " here is
that which will redeem thy lands from the grasp of the
spoiler."

254 A LEGEND OF BATALHA.
" Holy father ! " exclaimed Maude, scarcely believ
ing the evidence of her senses, " whence is all this
gold ?"
" It is the legacy of Hubert Whitaker."
The words had scarcely passed the lips of the friar,
when, overcome by the violence and conflicting cha
racter of her feelings, Maude dropped lifeless from her
chair, and was removed by her female attendant into
an adjoining apartment. While in that state of insen
sibility she escaped the pain of witnessing the demand
of Richard's creditor, which, however, the worthy
monk soon disposed of; and when Maude was restored
to herself, she had the comfort of knowing that she
and her orphan boy were placed beyond the frowns
of fortune.
It will have been seen that, with whatever over
whelming force the disappointment which had driven
Hubert into exile had fallen upon his mind in its first
bitterness, it did not paralyse his genius ; and, on the
other hand, whatever distaste he might have felt for
life, when the light which he had hoped would have
gladdened his path was withdrawn, the lessons of the
Great Teacher soon wrought their soothing influence
upon his spirit. Thus, although he looked forward,
it may be with loHging, to that blessed region to which
the tomb is the narrow portal, he waited not only
patiently but cheerfully, until He, in whose hands are
the issues of life, should relieve him of the burthen
which existence had become to him ; for whether it
was that he had borne the germs of disease to his
adopted country, or that they had been there engen-

A LEGEND OF BATALHA. 255
dered, is a matter which we cannot determine, but
certain it is, that the symptoms of a fatal malady soon
developed themselves. His earthly sojourn, there
fore, among the monks of Batalha was brief; but
brief as it was, his gentle and kindly manners won for
him the affection, as had his genius the admiration, of
all around him.
The prior loved him as his son, and so loving him,
marked with bitter anguish the worm gnawing beneath
the hectic bloom which disease had planted on his
cheek ; and it was with less surprise than sorrow
that the venerable old man received from Hubert a
summons of such urgency, as left no doubt of its
import. " Father," said the dying son of genius, when the
old man approached his couch, " my feet are stum
bling upon the dark mountains, and the mists of death
are gathering around me ; but they cannot veil the
glorious sun which is rising upon my soul with healing
on his wings : nay, my father, weep not ! for our part
ing is but for a brief season : we shall meet again in the
' green pastures,' bright with eternal sunshine and
unfading flowers. I have not cared for the world's
wealth, yet hath it flowed in upon me beyond my
wants and wishes. Yonder casket contains it all : let
it be conveyed to Father Anselm, your friend and
mine, when I am in the dust, and bid him apply it to
the use of one whom, though I once profanely wor
shipped, it is no offence even now to love. Let him
give her too this ring, — it was the gift of a king ; she
may wear it without sin and without shame, when the

256 PETTY LARCENY.
heart, of whose affection it is a token, hath ceased to
beat for ever."
Another sun rose upon the sick man and found him
yet alive, but its parting beams fell upon the face of
the dead. Yet his name perished not, as the following
inscription to the memory of those who died while em
ployed on the edifice will show : —
First Master Workmen.
Mestre Matheos : Portuguese, 1515.
Mestre Congiato : a stranger.
Mestre Conrado : a stranger.
First Master Workmen for the Windows.
Mestre Uguado : a stranger.
Mestre Whitaker : a stranger.

One morning, while at Batalha, we were surprised,
as well as disappointed, at finding that the milk served
at our breakfast was so sour as to be unfit for use.
On inquiring the cause, we found that the good
woman, to whom we were indebted for our diurnal
supply, and who came from a considerable distance,
had, on the preceding day, been way-laid and de
spoiled of the contents of her pails by a fellow who,
too idle to work for his own living, preferred subsist
ing upon the labours of others. He had accordingly
taken up his abode in a wood in the neighbourhood,
whence he sallied forth upon every passenger whom he
felt able to master, and robbed them of provisions,
money, and any thing else which tempted his cupidity.
This, from the unsettled state of the country, he was
able to do with impunity ; and the immediate conse
quence to ourselves was, that we were compelled to

SHAJUSOKTUM ©IT BOH Kffl&MBIB!L, MtUHA.

MUSICAL B0HK. 257
send our trusty valet three miles on a mule, every
morning, to meet the milk-merchant, who did not
deem our custom an adequate compensation for the
risk of losing all her store in an encounter with the
marauding vagabond that infested the district. Had
this worthy, on whose skull a phrenologist would
doubtless have found the organ of appropriation par
ticularly prominent, ventured to attack our messen
ger, he would, we suspect, have " caught a Tartar ;"
for John had served, and was by no means a man to
be trifled with.
We cannot help mentioning another circumstance
which occurred during our sojourn at the same place,
and which, while it puzzled us greatly, annoyed us
more. The room adjoining that which we occupied
in the house of the kind magistrate, was daily visit
ed, — we should rather say haunted, — by an elderly
person with a guitar. As he played with considerable
skill, we might have rejoiced in his vicinity, but for
the fact of his performances being restricted to a single
tune, and that of so melancholy a character, that the
celebrated Welsh dirge was a jig to it. We endured
it for some days with a philosophy which would have
immortalized us even in the age of the Stoics ; but, at
last, the tune so palled upon our ear by repetition, that
the first bar of it became the signal for our precipitate
retreat ; and we were wont to rush out of the house to
escape from an infliction which, had we been compelled
to bear it longer, would have driven us out of our
senses. The performer was evidently an acquaintance, if
s

258 CELEBRATED MUSICIANS.
not a- connexion of our host's family ; but although,
our curiosity being excited, we made repeated inquiries
on the subject, we could get no explanation of his
mysteriously pertinacious adherence to the one melan
choly tune. We were accordingly left to our own con
jectures ; and, whether correctly or not, we could not
help thinking that he was a musician by profession,
and, for his sins, had been condemned by his confessor
to the penance of playing the same air for a certain
period. It is a delicate matter to interfere between a man
and his priest ; but, had our conjectures on the sub
ject been confirmed, we should have been strongly
tempted to suggest to the musician the expedient of
serenading his confessor ; and sure we are, that his
reverence would not have endured the annoyance half
so long as we did without " abating the nuisance,"
by abridging the term of the penance.
While on the subject of music, we may mention that
Portugal has the honour of having produced some dis
tinguished professors of that delightful art. One ofthe
most celebrated, both as a composer and performer,
was Emanuel Cordoso. His proficiency obtained for
him the friendship of two monarchs ; namely, Philip
IV. of Spain, and John IV. of Portugal ; the latter of
whom was wont to visit him in his cell in the Car
melite convent at Lisbon, to listen to his performances
on the violin. He lived to a great age, and his last
breath was expended in chaunting the Te Deum.
John IV. himself was considered to be one of the
first musicians of his age, and is said to have devoted

THE KING AND THE FIDDLER. 259
an hour to music every day after dinner. His com
positions were published under a fictitious name. He
wrote a treatise in defence of modern music, which
he dedicated to Lawrence Rebello, a celebrated violin
player at Lisbon, " the only instance, perhaps, on
record," says our authority, (Murphy,) " of a king
dedicating a book to a fiddler."
The most eccentric, as well as one of the most
skilful of the musicians of Portugal, was Andrew
Escobar, who was appointed first musician of the ca
thedral of Evora, and afterwards held the same si
tuation at Coimbra. He was much attached to a
wandering life, and was wont " to pay off the score of
hospitality in sweet notes." His favourite instrument
was the bagpipes, upon which he is said to have per
formed wonders. He wrote a treatise on the art of
playing on that instrument.
On taking leave of our host at Batalha, we encoun
tered the same difficulty which we experienced at Lei
ria, but were not so successful in overcoming the
scruples of the worthy official who had so kindly taken
us in, — not in the generally understood sense of the
phrase. The only means, therefore, which were left
to us of acknowledging his hospitality, was by presents
to the various members of his family. We mention
this to the honour of the nation, and are bound to
say generally, that, during our short sojourn, we met
with nothing but the kindest treatment; and on no
occasion, even from the lowest of the population, had
we reason to complain of rudeness, much less of
injury.
s2

260 A FALLING OFF.
Leaving Batalha, we pursued our way towards Porto
de Moz. We encountered in our journey thither little
that is worth recording, except a disaster which befell
our faithful valet, John; who, though a tolerable
horseman, or rather mule-man, contrived to get thrown
three times over the head of his mule. He received
some bruises, and, what was a more serious matter to
one who, like him, prided himself upon his appear
ance, a few scarifications on the face, but was not
seriously injured in body, although considerably
damaged in temper. His wrath, like the strength of
Antaeus, increased after each tumble, and vented itself
in a torrent of invectives upon the muleteer, who, he
maintained, had cheated the animal of its share of
provender, and thus caused it to stumble from very
weakness.

THE FESTIVAL. 261

CHAPTER IX.

PORTO de moz.

Arrival at Porto de Moz — The Festival — Pious Auction — The
Stag-da?mon — Life for Life — Conclusion.
We arrived at Porto de Moz on the day of a festival,
held in honour of a saint. The place was therefore
thronged, not only by the inhabitants, but by persons
from many miles distant, each bearing some offering
to the saint. They travel in small parties and on
foot, usually preceded by a musician. Some of them
will journey in this manner for two or three days,
sometimes beguiling the way by conversation, and at
others preserving a profound silence, to which they
bind themselves by a vow. It is curious to see the
females on their march, bare-footed, but with their
necks ornamented by massive gold chains. The co
lours in which they array themselves are not of the
brilliant kind which is met with in Italy, and other
parts of the continent. The Portuguese women wear
the soberer colours of dark green and brown, the dye
ing of which is less expensive than the more gaudy
tints. The offerings which these honest people bring to

262

PIOUS AUCTION.

their saint, consist chiefly of fruit, poultry, and cloth
of their own manufacture; for the distaff and the loom
are familiar to the hands of the peasantry of the coun
try. They spend little by the way, either in coming or
returning, their pious purpose being quite sufficient
to secure to them the hospitalities of the peasantry
of the district through which they pass.
The cross, at which they assemble with their offer
ings, is represented in the vignette-title of this vo
lume. There, a little boy, dressed in becoming robes,
attends on behalf of the priest, with a bowl, com
monly of metal, but sometimes of other materials. The
ceremony then proceeds. One of the pious pilgrims
produces a fowl for instance, and cries, " Who will buy
this fowl of Nossa Senhora? — [the Virgin, if it happen
to be her festival] : — Nossa Senhora is very anxious
to sell this fowl. Who will buy this fine fat fowl of
Nossa Senhora ? " A price is offered, and, being paid,
is transferred to the priest's bowl, and the same fowl is
again put up for sale ; again bought, and, after a simi
lar appropriation of the price, is put up a third time,
and so on, until it has changed hands several times;
when, in nine cases out of ten, the fowl goes to im
prove the priest's dinner.
In some instances very large prices, — altogether out
of proportion to the real value of the articles, — are
given by wealthy individuals who are very pious ; or
who, vice versa, have been very naughty, and are
desirous of recommending themselves to the merciful
consideration of Nossa Senhora.
Porto de Moz is a very pretty, and, for Portugal, a

VERITABLE LEGEND. 263
remarkably clean town, the inhabitants of which were
most kindly disposed to afford us every facility in the
prosecution of our object. The adjacent country, a
lovely valley, was the most fruitful and best cultivated
that we had seen in that part of the kingdom. The
grand attraction of the place, however, is a very fine
old castle, to see which alone is worth the journey
from Batalha. To this building is attached an ancient
legend, to which we find frequent reference in old
books on Portugal, but which is related at length in a
note to Dr. Southey's Roderic. The following is the
substance of the story, and it affords a curious illus
tration of the blind superstition, of an age in which its
authenticity was as much acknowledged as that of the
Scriptures themselves. Credulity in such matters,
however, would appear to be the growth of the coun
try, since it flourishes almost in as great vigour in the
present day, when we are told the most improbable
fictions with the gravest faces imaginable.
Don Fuas Roupinho, a knight famous in the Por
tuguese Chronicles, was governor of that part of the
country, and resided in a castle at Porto de Moz. It
happened that, while engaged in his favourite pursuit of
hunting, he discovered, in a low cavern, a small altar,
where was an image of the Virgin Mary, " of such per
fection and modesty, as are found in few images of that
size." The knight, like a good Catholic, paid his re
spects to the lady, to whom he took such a fancy, that
nothing but the fear of giving offence prevented him
from removing her to his castle at Porto de Moz ;
where, he rightly and devoutly conceived, she would

264 HAIR-BREADTH ESCAPE.
be lodged in a manner more comporting with her dig
nity, than in the primitive dwelling she then occu
pied. It, however, never occurred to him, that, with
out hazarding the lady's displeasure by removing her,
her consent not being " first had and obtained," he
might, by the aid of the carpenter and bricklayer, ma
terially improve her domestic comforts in her present
abode. At all events so thought the lady, who ac
cordingly determined to give him a hint on the subject
on the very first opportunity, which shortly afterwards
occurred. It happened that he was hunting one day, when the
dogs put up a stag, — if, as the legend sagely doubts,
stag it was, and not the devil or one of his familiars,
who, the knight having profanely devoted to his
amusement the day (the 14th September) on which is
held the festival of the Exaltation of the Cross, had
been permitted to exercise their power to his bodily
endangerment. Certain it is that, by reason of a thick
mist, the doughty knight was deceived into a belief
that he was riding upon a level plain, when all the
while he was galloping full speed to the edge of a
fearful precipice, two hundred fathoms above the sea;
a fact which he did not discover until he was just
upon the verge, and had no power to stop his steed ;
indeed, says the legend, he had time only to breathe
a brief prayer to the Virgin.
Nor was his prayer put up in vain, for just at the
moment that he was within two palms' space from
the edge of the precipice, she arrested the progress
of his horse so suddenly, that the marks of its hind

ECONOMICAL GRATITUDE. 265
hoofs were deeply imprinted on the hard rock, where
they remain to this day, an object of veneration to
holy pilgrims who journey thither to pay their re
spects. Nor did the wonder cease here; for, seeing
that the point of the rock, hanging as it were in air
immediately above the sea, is utterly inaccessible by
human means, Nature herself, doubtless at the instance
of the Virgin, has impressed a cross, for the purpose
of sanctifying the scene of so notable a miracle.
The hint was not lost upon Don Fuas, who imme
diately repaired to the Virgin, and prostrated himself
before her; acknowledging his remissness in having
so long permitted her to remain in so dilapidated a
dwelling, and expressing his thanks for his deli
verance. His gratitude was greatly enhanced, when, on
the arrival of his huntsman, he found that the stag
was never seen afterwards, — a circumstance which con
firmed him in the opinion that the said stag was no
other than the devil himself, who, for the knight's sins,
had thus been permitted to lead him into peril.
"Facta, non verba," appears to have been the motto
of Don Fuas, who brought workmen from Leiria and
Porto de Moz, to construct a hermitage more worthy
of the distinguished personage. Economy, however,
is a virtue, and it was one of those which graced the
knight ; for it would seem that, preparatory to erecting
a new house for the Virgin, he demolished the old one,
doubtless with the laudable intention of applying the
" building materials " in the construction of the new
edifice. In doing this, the workmen discovered a little
box of ivory, containing the relics of St. Bras, St.

26fj SPECIMEN OF THE FINE ARTS.
Bartholomew, and other saints, with a written account
of the manner and time of their being deposited. A
vaulted chapel was forthwith erected for the lady's
future abode, where, it is stated, she was visited by
"the faithful," including Don Alfonso Henriquez and
his son Don Sancho.
This legend, says Dr. Southey, " is one of the
many articles of the same kind from the great manu
factory at Alcobaca, and is at this day as firmly be
lieved by the people of Portugal as any article of the
Christian faith. How, indeed, should they fail to
believe it? I have a print, — " continues the Doctor,
" it is one ofthe most popular devotional prints in
Portugal, — which represents the miracle. The diabo
lical stag is flying down the precipice, and looking
back with a wicked turn of the head, in hopes of
seeing Don Fuas follow him ; the horse is rearing up
with his hind feet upon the brink of the precipice ;
the knight has dropped his hunting spear, his cocked
hat is falling behind him, and an exclamation to the
Virgin is coming out of his mouth." Under the
print is written, adds our authority, in Portuguese,
this precious information : " His Eminency the Car
dinal Patriarch grants fifty days' indulgence to who
ever shall say an Ave Maria before this image."

We will add to this legend one of a less marvel
lous character, but which we hope will not prove
wholly uninteresting to our readers. We will intro
duce it by the title of

LIFE FOR LIFE. 267
%iU for Iff*.
Within a league or two of Porto de Moz, there
dwelt, in ancient times, a certain Count de Nunciado,
who was what the world is wont to call a good fellow ;
that is to say, he kept open house to all comers, and
exercised the rights of hospitality to a degree which,
although unanimously approved of by his guests, was
scarcely warranted by his means. The result was,
that when he died, his son and successor, the young
Count de Nunciado, found himself the possessor of a
large castle and a fair portion of lands ; the revenues
of which, however, had been anticipated by his father
to such an extent, that if he was not, de facto, a beggar,
he had the chief qualification of one, an empty purse,
and was thus a beggar de jure, if he had chosen to
stand upon his rights.
Count Henry de Nunciado was a dutiful son, and
would most obediently have trodden in his father's
steps, had they not tended to the precipice of ruin.
His father had been a most indulgent one, and Count
Henry, who had loved him affectionately while living,
respected his memory when he was dead ; but he was
not blind even to his parent's faults, which, however,
he remembered only to profit by the warning they
conveyed to him. Courage we hold to be on all occa
sions the best policy, and it is ever better to look
misfortune in the face than to turn our backs upon it.
In no emergency is this moral courage so essential as
in pecuniary difficulties. Count Henry, instead of
seeking forgetfulness in dissipation, or what, though
less criminal, is equally weak, yielding to despair,

268 LIFE FOR LIFE.
applied the axe to the root of evil ; and, calling the
servants and retainers of the castle together, he briefly
explained to them the circumstances in which he was
placed, and recommended to their adoption the policy
of that sagacious animal which is wont to abandon a
falling house.
As it was impossible to impugn the disinterested
ness of the suggestion, it was almost universally fol
lowed ; the only exceptions being a superannuated
porter, whose services would not elsewhere have been
accepted ; a sort of housekeeper, who had as little
inducement for " altering her situation;" and a slip
of a page, who, modestly concluding that his mistress,
the count's sister, could not survive the loss of his
services, magnanimously resolved to sacrifice the ad
vantages held out by a tempting offer from a noble
family in the neighbourhood, to his consideration
for the gentle Agnes de Nunciado.
Count Henry had spent the greater part of his short
life in the camp, and being inured to privations,
would have submitted to those to which his straitened
circumstances condemned him without a murmur ;
but he could not look with indifference upon the
altered position of his sister, who had been a welcome
guest in the first society of the province, and whose
beauty and accomplishments had attracted so large a
share of its regard.
The count and his sister were sitting together one
morning, when Agnes, remarking the cloud which
appeared to hang upon her brother's spirits, affection
ately inquired the cause.
" Believe me, Agnes," was the reply, " this reverse

LIFE FOR LIFE. 269
of fortune, sudden and severe though it be, would
have abated little of that cheerfulness with which
Heaven has mercifully endowed me, if my dear sister
were not involved in the calamity which has overtaken
our house."
" Well now," exclaimed the damsel, " I am so de
lighted, you cannot think."
" Indeed, Agnes ! I see little reason for delight
under circumstances which, in nine persons out often,
would create a very different feeling. I would fain
know the cause of your exultation ?"
" I cannot tell you, Henry," was the rejoinder,
" how happy I feel that your dejection has no deeper
source than sympathy for me, — a sympathy which,
credit me, is thrown away. The gay scenes in which
we have been accustomed to move, however they may
have contributed to my amusement, have made no
essential part of my happiness, and I can resign them
without a sigh, while I have the society of my dearest
brother." "Say you so, my sweet sister?" exclaimed the
count, the gloom passing from his brow like a cloud
before the sunbeam ; " then I care not for the spite
of Fortune, though the jade has done her worst; for
while I see the smile of cheerfulness upon your lip,
albeit a crust and the crystal stream compose our
banquet, I will not repine."
" Nay," said the playful girl, " talk not of crusts
and crystal streams while we have three larks and an
ortolan in the larder, to say nothing of the trout which
my faithful page has pledged his reputation as an

270 LIFE FOR LIFE.
angler to produce by dinner time;" and, with a merry
laugh, she left the apartment.
The young count was, to adopt the usual term,
"universally respected," and the fallen fortunes of
his house were greatly regretted by those who were
accustomed to " eat of the fat and drink of the
strong" at his father's table. Nor was our hero long
without discovering that he possessed his neighbours'
sympathy, which was chiefly exhibited in their ab
staining from visiting one who had no means, — con
siderate souls ! — of entertaining them.
The Count d'Almada, however, was an exception ;
for, within a reasonable time after the death of the old
count, he called upon his successor, and having con
doled with him, not upon his altered circumstances,
but on the loss of his father, informed him that the
principal object of his visit was to repay a sum of
five hundred crowns, which the deceased count had
lent to him shortly before his death.
" My dear count," said Henry, " I give you credit
for your friendship, as well as your ingenuity, but —
pardon me — not for your story. My father, peace to
his memory ! was much more likely to borrow five
hundred crowns than to lend them, even could we
suppose the rich D'Almada to require the loan.
Nevertheless, I thank you heartily for your intentions,
of which I would not hesitate to avail myself, if I
saw any chance of repaying you ; but, as it is, be not
offended if I decline your generous offer;" and the
young count persevered in his refusal, to the great
mortification of his friend, who left the castle in great

LIFE FOR LIFE. 271
dudgeon, and over head and ears in love with the fair
Agnes, whom, as she had been educated in a convent,
he saw for the first time.
It was towards the close of a sultry day that Plenry
was reading by an open window, and being deeply
absorbed by the subject of the volume, was uncon
scious of the presence of a stranger until he was ac
costed by name. He looked up, and beheld an indi
vidual whom he had met before, although under cir
cumstances which inspired him with little desire for
a further acquaintance. The unwelcome visitor was
Barbosa, the chief of a numerous band of robbers,
who infested the country for some miles round.
" Scoundrel ! " exclaimed the count, starting from
his chair, " how dared you enter my gates ? "
" Because there was no one to prevent me, but a
superannuated warder, an old woman, and a sleeping
page," was the cool reply.
" And if they were not sufficient to keep you out,"
rejoined the count, " you have met with one who has
power to keep you in. You pass not hence, except it
be into the hands of that justice which your depreda
tions have so long outraged."
" Be not so sure of that, Sir Count," answered the
robber ; " my band are beneath the window, and, at
the slightest signal, will mount your stairs as I have
done, and make the odds fearfully against you. Nay,
advance another step, and my horn shall summon
them." " It will not need," replied the count, " for you
shall carry your message in person; " and as he spoke,

272 LIFE FOR LIFE.
he seized Barbosa by the collar, and dragging him to
the window, was proceeding to eject him by a very
summary process ; when the robber, who was greatly
his inferior in strength, exclaimed : " Nay, count, I
protest to you that the purport of my visit is an hone <t
one, — I mean not harm to you or yours."
" And what warrant, beyond the word of a bandit,
have I for that ?" inquired the other.
" The simple fact of my coming to you alone," was
the answer, " when I might have brought with me the
band of stout fellows who are drawn up beneath your
window. There," he added, taking a poniard from
his bosom and casting it from him, " there is my
only weapon ; and now Count de Nunciado, unarmed
and at your mercy, I crave your patient hearing while
I acquit myself of my errand."
" Say on," said the count, relaxing his hold on his
strange guest, and resuming his seat.
" In the first place, then," said the bandit chief,
" will you pardon me for asking if you are aware of
the political views of your neighbour, the Duke da
Rocha?" "I have a strong opinion on the subject," replied
Nunciado ; " but whatever that may be, I see not
either the right or the reason that you have to put the
question." " Nay," said the other, " I only inquired if you had
an opinion, — I did not ask you what it was ; but if it
be a correct one, you will not be surprised when I tell
you that the duke is a traitor, and seeks the subver
sion ofthe present dynasty."

LIKE FOR LIFE. 273
" In favour of whom ? " asked the count.
" Our ancient enemies and near neighbours, the
Spaniards," was the reply.
" The charge is a grave one," observed the count,
11 and should be supported by other testimony than — "
"The word of a robber," interrupted Barbosa,
" you would say ; and not without reason, I grant
you. Behold the proofs ! " and as he spoke, he drew
from beneath his vest a packet which he placed be
fore the count ; when retiring a few paces, he folded
his arms, and watched the countenance of the other as
he read its contents.
The count was, however, too much upon his guard
to betray the feelings excited by their perusal ; ac
cordingly, when he had finished, he looked up and
calmly asked, " And how did you become possessed
of these?"
" They were found upon the person of a Spanish
courier, whom we intercepted on the mountain, and — "
" Murdered of course," said the other.
" Nay," replied the robber, " there you wrong us ;
we have enough to answer for, but murder in cold
blood is not among the crimes of our band."
" Where, then, is the courier?" inquired the count.
" In safe keeping," said the other, " and will be
produced whenever his testimony may be required."
The count paused a few minutes, and then con
tinued, " Now admitting these documents to be ge
nuine, and the duke to be all they indicate, to what
motive am I to attribute this sudden fit of loyalty on
the part of one who has hitherto set laws at defiance ?"
T

274 LIFE FOR LIFE.
" The motive which governs the world," was the
reply, " selfishness." The bandit then proceeded to
explain, that the band to which he belonged, becoming
tired of the perilous life they were leading, and some
of the better minded being disgusted with it, were
anxious to secure their pardon and consequent return
to the bosom of society, by denouncing the plot to
which the papers in question referred.
" But why apply to me," inquired the count, " in
preference to the many rich and powerful nobles in
the district?"
" Because we could better trust to your honour,"
was the reply; " and what is of equal importance in
the matter, to your attachment to the reigning family."
The robber chief then developed his views by say
ing, " As you will perceive by these letters, the blow
is to be struck by the conspirators before it will be
possible for you to communicate with the court; and
the only method of frustrating their design is to seize
their ringleader, the Duke da Rocha, before the day
appointed for the rising. Now our band is well
armed, accustomed to act in concert, and is in suf
ficient force to surprise the castle, which we are wil
ling to attempt, if you will give the sanction of your
rank and loyalty to the undertaking."
" Nay," said the count, " I must do more, or
nothing. I must not only sanction the enterprise,
but conduct it ; which, as I frankly tell you that the
intelligence conveyed in these papers is strongly cor
roborated by circumstances which had previously
come to my knowledge, I am willing to do."

LIFE FOR LIFE. 275
The robber expressed his entire satisfaction at the
proposal of the count ; and after assuring him that
he might depend, both on the courage of the band
and on their fidelity, proceeded to arrange the time
and manner of the attack, which was fixed for the
following evening.
That the count so readily lent himself to the
scheme, is attributable to the urgency of the case,
time not admitting of his sending to the court for
assistance ; while on the other hand, although by no
means satisfied with the tools with which he had to
work, he had no vassals of his own, and could place
no reliance on the loyalty of the neighbouring pea
santry. The only nobleman whom he could venture
to take into his councils was the Count d'Almada ;
but, unfortunately, he was then in attendance on the
king. The robber had no sooner departed, than Count
Henry summoned his sister's page, upon whose dis
cretion he had good reasons for reposing implicit
confidence ; and, after enjoining him not to divulge
a syllable of the projected enterprise to Agnes, he put
him in possession of all the circumstances, in order
that, in the event of his falling in the attempt, his
reputation, which he felt to be somewhat hazarded by
the character of his allies, might stand clear in the
eyes of his sovereign.
The hour appointed for Count Henry's meeting
with his new friends approached, and feeling how much
depended upon the enterprise, and the risk to which,
whatever might be the issue of the attempt, he would
t2

276 LIFE FOR LIFE.
necessarily be exposed, he avoided a meeting with
his sister previously to his departure. Although na
turally firm and self-possessed, he dared not hazard
the betrayal of his feelings in an interview, which
might be his last, with the only being on earth whom
he loved ; and, accordingly, he made his exit by a
postern in the garden wall, and proceeded to the place
of rendezvous, which was in a dell or hollow, about
midway between his own castle and that of the rebel
duke. Serious as his feelings would of course be under
such circumstances, he could scarcely repress a smile
at the motley group which were presented to him.
Every nation upon earth appeared to have a represen
tative in that parliament of rogues. Nevertheless they
were, for the most part, " men of thews and sinews,"
and each was armed to the teeth. They expressed
themselves ready for the expedition, and certain of
success ; their confidence being grounded upon the fact
of their having an accomplice in the castle which they
proposed to surprise, who, from having formerly been
leagued with the band, had agreed to lower the draw
bridge on their approach ; a service which his office of
warder enabled him with greater facility to perform.
They also derived further assurance from the circum
stance of the duke having, doubtless for the purpose
of lulling suspicion, relaxed the rigour with which
the approaches to his strong-hold were wont to be
guarded. The count, on his part, felt satisfied that every mea
sure of which the case admitted had been adopted to

LIFE FOR LIFE. 277
ensure success ; and he had no doubt that, the castle
being once carried, he should, with the force at his dis
posal, be able to maintain it against any number of
assailants from without, until the news of the insur
rection should bring succours from head-quarters.
The shades of twilight fell thickly upon the land
scape before the word was given to begin the march,
which was conducted with an order and silence that,
although in keeping with the habits of the gang, would
have done honour to regular troops. Not a word was
spoken, nor was a foot-fall heard. The party soon
found themselves in front of the castle, when the
captain of the band advanced to the drawbridge, and
gave the signal agreed upon with his confederate
within. A pause of several minutes succeeded, when
a scarcely audible sound, as of the motion of a chain,
broke the stillness of the night, and the drawbridge
was seen slowly to fall. At last it rested on the outer
margin of the moat, and the band moved forward, but
were instantly checked by their leader; who urged
the expediency of a pause, in order to ascertain if
the lowering of the drawbridge had attracted the at
tention of any other inmate of the castle than the
confederate warder.
A reasonable time having been suffered to elapse,
the signal for advancing was given, and, one by one,
the robbers passed the bridge, led by Barbosa and the
Count de Nunciado ; the latter of whom kept close
to the bandit chief, not merely because he felt that
his post should be in the van, but that he might
punish, with instant death, the first appearance of

278 LIFE FOR LIFE.
treachery on the part of the man, with whom necessity
had compelled him to trust himself.
The whole of the party having crossed the bridge,
they proceeded, without molestation, into the court
yard of the castle, which was as silent as the grave.
Barbosa, for the first time, exhibited symptoms of
perplexity and hesitation, and whispering to the count
he said, " Our confederate engaged to meet us at this
spot, and guide us to the presence of the duke, but
he hath failed us ; surely he cannot — " but his remark,
to whatever it might have tended, was cut short by a
sound as of the sudden raising of the drawbridge,
and almost at the same instant, the gate by which
they had entered the court-yard was closed. " My
lord," exclaimed the robber chief, " there is treachery
here ! but as I hope for mercy, I have no part in it.
If you doubt me, strike, — for I deserve death for
my folly, in trusting to the faith of yon renegade
warder." It is probable that, but for this bold appeal of the
robber, the count would have sacrificed him to his
suspicions on the spot ; but there was an agitation in
Barbosa's voice and manner which argued for his
sincerity, and the count replied, — " My doubts rest
rather on your discretion than your good faith ; but
here we are, — our retreat is cut off, and our only
course is to proceed. There is a light glimmering
through yonder door ; let us force it, and know the
worst at once." As he spoke he advanced, applied
his foot to the door, when it instantly yielded to the
pressure, and the count found himself in a brilliantly

LIFE FOR LIFE. 279
illuminated hall, at the upper end of which sat the
duke himself, surrounded by other disaffected nobles ;
while the apartment was densely lined by armed men,
in the proportion of three to one to the assailants.
The count hesitated, but it was only for a moment.
He advanced with a quick firm step, along the clear
space that had been left by the armed adherents of the
rebel cause, up to the elevated platform, or dais, on
which the duke and his compeers were seated, and ex
claimed, " My lord duke, I denounce you as a traitor
to his majesty, the nobility, and people of this king
dom." Then turning to the assembly, he added,
" And they who obstruct, — nay, who do not aid me,
hi arresting him, are traitors like himself."
" Admirably enacted," said the duke with a sneer,
as a few of his retainers flung themselves upon the
count and disarmed him ; " admirably enacted, my
lord of Nunciado. Poor we.knew you were, but we
ever thought you honest until now, when we find you
at the head of a band of thieves, and, failing in your
attempt to surprise us, covering your design of plunder
under an affectation of exuberant loyalty."
It was no part of the duke's policy to allow the
count to enter into explanation, which might change
the character of his attack on the castle in the eyes of
the persons by whom he was surrounded ; therefore
addressing his armed retainers, he exclaimed, " Away
with these robbers to the dungeon, until we decide
whether they shall feed the ravens or the fishes."
Barbosa and his followers succeeded in fighting
their way up to the support of the count, but they

280 LIFE FOR LIFE.
could do no more; they were soon overpowered by
numbers, and carried away, each in the custody of some
two or three of the duke's men, and thrust into a sort
of guard-house, which differed little from a dungeon,
except that the light of day found its way into it from
a grated window, within a few feet of the vaulted roof.
The guards having withdrawn, the captives were
left to themselves, with the full conviction that they
were utterly in the power of the duke ; whose policy it
was to put them to death, for which he had, unfor
tunately for them, but too plausible a plea. The noise
created by the barring and bolting their prison-door
having subsided, the count, turning to Barbosa, re
marked, " I fear, my friend, that we shall be pretty
much in the predicament of the worthies, whom the
ancient proverb describes as going out to seek wool,
and coming home shorn ; we came here to apprehend
a traitor, and we are likely to encounter a traitor's
doom ourselves."
" I am glad, my lord, you can jest upon the sub
ject," said the robber chief; " for my own part, I was
never less disposed for merriment in my life. But do
not mistake me. I blench not from a fate which I
knew, sooner or later, must overtake me, and which my
many crimes have merited ; but it is the thought that
I have involved you in an enterprise that has failed
through the treachery of one of my own agents, which
maddens me. Nevertheless, to whatever other ex
tremity the duke may proceed, he will not dare to
touch your life: for us, of course, there remains but a
short shrift and the felon's doom."

LIFE FOR LIFE. 281
" Which," replied the count, " I shall as surely
share with you, as I have shared in your undertaking ;
but I have nothing to reproach you with ; it was as
impossible to shut one's eyes against the hazard, as it
was to guard against the contingency which has hap
pened." After the lapse of a few hours, the prison-door was
again opened, and Henry received a summons to the
presence of the Duke da Rocha. Seeing the inutility
of resistance, he quietly followed the armed person
who was sent to conduct him thither. It was nearly
midnight, and the duke was sitting alone when the
count was ushered into the room. The attendants
retired at a signal from their master, and the door
was closed.
" Count," said the duke, " I have sent for you,
because I am unwilling that the son of my old neigh
bour, De Nunciado, should suffer the ignominious
death to which circumstances have given me the right,
as well as the power, to condemn him. Now, if you
will answer my questions, and agree to a proposition
which I have to make, I will give you, not only life,
but freedom."
" Life," was the rejoinder, " is sweet, but it may
yet be too dearly purchased ; however, say on, my
lord." " In the first place," said the other, " I would ask
what grounds you had for the accusation so boldly
made to my face but a few hours since."
" Certain documents which fell into my hands,"
replied the count.

282 LIFE FOR LIFE.
" Which documents," pursued the duke, " were in
the form of a communication from a great personage,
the bearer of which was intercepted by the band of
robbers whom we have in custody. Have I been cor
rectly informed ?"
" The papers were certainly delivered to me by
Barbosa their captain," was the answer.
" Are they now in. your possession?" inquired the
duke. " Can you suppose me so very silly," said the
other with a slight smile, "as to have run the double
risk of putting the papers as well as my person in
your power by the failure of my enterprise?"
" Of course you know where they are?" rejoined
the duke.
" Unquestionably," returned the count.
" Put me in possession of those documents," said
the other, " and pass me your word that you will
not divulge their contents, and you shall be free to
depart." " Your confidence in the honour of a man whom
you have treated as the head of a band of thieves, is
somewhat marvellous," remarked the count; "but I
cannot comply with your conditions, and would not,
for fifty lives, if I could. The documents are no
longer within my control."
The countenance of the duke fell at this intimation ;
but repressing his emotion, he continued, " Tell me,
then, in whose hands they are."
" That may scarcely consist with the safety of him
to whom they were confided," was the reply. " Con-

LIFE FOR LIFE. 283
tent you, that whatever be the course you may adopt
towards me, he will use them to the vindication of my
honour, whether I be living or dead."
" He must do it quickly, then," retorted the baron,
who now saw that the count was immovable, " if it
be to profit you while living ; for to-morrow at sun
rise, you, as well your compatriot Barbosa, shall be
food for ravens on the highest turret of this castle.
So make your peace with Heaven with what expedi
tion you may, for you have not six hours to live."
As he spoke, he struck his gauntlet on the oaken
table at which he was sitting; and at the signal, the
guards who had conducted the count thither, re-entered
and led him back to his prison, when he communi
cated to Barbosa the fate that awaited them.
The grey light of dawn was scarcely perceptible
through the window of the chamber in which the pri
soners were confined, when the bolts and chains were
again withdrawn from the outside of the door, and the
duke's confessor entered to prepare the doomed men for
their fate, and to attend them to the scaffold. The count
greeted him calmly, if not cheerfully ; but the robber
turned from him as the herald of death, and could
with difficulty be induced to listen to his admonitions.
The friar, in offering the consolations of his religion
to the count and his companion, betrayed a deep
sympathy in their impending fate; and assured them
that he had pleaded earnestly in their behalf with the
duke, but had found him inexorable.
At length the door was again opened by the guards,
who, during the priest's visit had kept watch without,

284 LIFE FOR LIFE.
and who now entered the apartment to usher the pri
soners to the scaffold. Barbosa refused to move, and
it required the strength of two stout soldiers to drag
him forth ; but the count, knowing that it was vain
to resist, walked between his guards with a dignified
air, through the vaulted passages of the building to
the foot of a flight of stairs. By these they were con
ducted to the top of a turret of the castle, where pre
parations had been made for carrying into execution
the sentence of the duke, whose malignant feelings
had prompted him to be present at the scene. He re
garded the count with a smile of mingled hatred and
exultation, which was returned by a look of lofty scorn.
It was with difficulty that the confessor prevailed
upon his master to grant the prisoners a short space,
in which to breathe a prayer before they met their
doom. When they rose from their devotions, the
myrmidons of the duke approached to bind their vic
tims. At that moment the count turned to Da Rocha,
and, pointing in the direction of a mountain which
bounded the prospect, said, " My lord duke, behold !
the avengers of blood are at hand."
The duke turned his eyes towards the spot indicated,
and beheld the rays of the rising sun reflected by the
arms of a large body of soldiers, stretched along the
brow of the mountain. Their numbers, and the regu
larity with which they proceeded to descend, left no
doubt on the mind of the duke that the troops before
him were those of his sovereign. So far, however,
from betraying any apprehension at their approach,
he turned to the count and remarked with an ironical

LIFE FOR LIFE. 285
smile, " My lord of Nunciado, your friends have
timed their visit well ; and we will grant you a short
respite that they may witness the doom, from which,
were they twice the number they are, they should not
save you."
The duke immediately issued orders for the neces
sary preparations for the reception of the advancing
army, declaring that he would perish beneath the ruins
of his castle, rather than surrender it to the king's
troops. The ramparts were speedily and effectually
manned ; and when the adverse party reached the plain
on which the fortress was built, they discovered that
its reduction would be a work of more difficulty than
they had anticipated. They halted within a few fur
longs of the walls, and then despatched a herald with
a formal summons to the duke to surrender ; to which
the latter replied with a defiance, and an invitation to
their leader to witness an act of summary justice on
one of their partisans.
The herald had no sooner returned to his party and
delivered his message, than a knight rode out of the
ranks, and galloped up to the verge of the moat im
mediately under the tower on which the execution was
to take place. The count instantly recognised in the
horseman his friend D'Almada, who exclaimed, " My
lord duke, you will not dare to commit this outrage
on a king's officer, and that, too, in sight of the royal
banner ! "
" If," returned the duke, " we permit you to ap
proach so near with impunity, it is that you may
witness the measure of justice which we will mete to

286 LIFE FOR LIFE.
every tool of the usurper your master, who shall fall
into our hands."
" Hear me!" vociferated the Count d'Almada; " if
you touch a hair of his head, I will put yourself and
every man of your garrison to the sword."
" Crack the shell, Sir Count, before you dispose of
the kernel," was the jeering reply ofthe duke : " there
are some few yards of stout masonry yet between us
and your vengeance." Then turning round, he added,
" Executioners, to your duty."
" Hold — another word !" cried D'Almada ; " I have
the means of instant retaliation, and will use them, if
you forbear not." As he spoke, he made a signal to
the body of soldiers which was nearest to him, when
two of the party advanced from the rest, leading
between them a youth of about eighteen. " There,"
continued the count, " we too have made a prisoner,
whose life shall be for the life of De Nunciado, if you
dare to take it."
" Nay," retorted the duke, " methinks you pay your
friend but a sorry compliment, in weighing yon strip
ling against a soldier of the Count de Nunciado's
reputation." During this reply, six soldiers in the front rank of
D'Almada's force levelled their match-locks at the
youth, who, throwing off his cap, the plumes in which
overshadowed his face, looked up towards the turret
where Da Rocha was standing with his prisoners.
The eyes of the duke no sooner met those of the lad,
than he uttered a cry of horror, and exclaimed " My
son ! my son ! O spare my son !"

LIFE FOR LIFE 287
" You have his ransom in your hands," replied
D'Almada. " If I release to you the count," inquired the other,
who, stern and cruel as he was, idolized his boy,
" what warrant have I for my son's safety?"
" The word of a knight and a nobleman," was the
rejoinder. "Dismiss your prisoners — for I must have
the robber captain also, — and your son shall be given
up to you ; or, if it better consists with his security,
he shall have my safe-conduct to any place you may
name." The honour of D'Almada was proverbial, and as
the duke well knew that his own word would not be
taken, he ordered the immediate release of the two
prisoners, who were dismissed by a postern through
which the youth entered the castle; and the parley be
ing concluded, the commander of the king's forces fell
back upon his main body. D'Almada, after congra
tulating his friend on his deliverance from the clutches
of Da Rocha, informed him that he had been ordered
to the frontier with a body of troops, for the purpose of
watching some suspicious movements on the part of
the neighbouring state, and that in his march he had
encountered the page whom Count de Nunciado had
despatched with the documents delivered to him by
Barbosa. D'Almada, on perusing the papers containing the
evidence of a conspiracy against the existing dynasty,
had swerved from his course in the hope of surpris
ing the chief conspirator, the Duke da Rocha, before
he could draw his forces to a head.

288 LIFE FOR LIFE.
The great strength of the fortress rendered the in
vestment of it by the royal troops a very tedious
affair ; but as the premature discovery of the conspi
racy had acted as a check upon the other nobles in the
plot, and deterred them from going to the relief of
the duke, he was compelled at last to surrender ; the
garrison being so reduced for want of provisions, that
the soldiers refused to continue the defence.
The life of the duke was spared, but he was banish
ed, and his estates were confiscated, a provision having
been assigned out of the revenues for his son ; who was
not implicated in the conspiracy, and at the period of
his capture by D'Almada, was ignorant of its existence.
The king, in acknowledgment of the zeal displayed
in his service by the Count de Nunciado, appointed
him to a lucrative post, which enabled him to relieve
his estate of the encumbrances with which his father
had burthened it, and to live upon it in a manner
worthy of his rank.
Love is never so successful as when he has Grati
tude for an ally ; and thus it happened, that D'Almada's
timely rescue of her brother made so favourable an
impression on the fair Agnes, that, after a twelve
month's siege, she capitulated, and became the Coun
tess d'Almada.
Barbosa, we are happy to add, was sincere in his
renunciation of his evil courses ; and having obtain
ed the king's pardon for past offences, entered the
army, and became distinguished for his steadiness and
courage.

THE poetry OF WASHING. 289
Our stay at Porto de Moz was very brief, and be
sides the objects to which we have drawn the reader's
attention, we met with little worthy of notice, if we
except the ingenuity of the Portuguese laundresses.
Our pocket-handkerchiefs, which in England and else
where had hitherto been sent home to us folded in
the ordinary manner, were tortured by our Portuguese
washerwomen into a variety of fantastic shapes. Some
times they were presented to us in the form of a flower,
the corners being pulled out to resemble leaves ; on
another occasion we remember to have received one
intended to represent a nest of birds ; and so success
ful was the imitation, that the design of the artist
could not be mistaken, even at a glance. A cambric
bird's-nest was indeed a novelty for which we were not
prepared. It was the poetry of washing.
Here, then, having arrived at the limits prescribed to
our volume, we, for the present, take our leave of the
reader ; thanking him heartily for his company thus
far on our tour, in which we have pointed out to him
all the objects we deemed worthy of his attention, and
have told him all we know about them.
We have, moreover, endeavoured to beguile the
tedium of the journey by many a quaint legend and
strange tale. If in this we have been successful —
well. If, on the contrary, we have promoted his
slumbers rather than his amusement, still we say —
well ; for we know not a safer refuge from dull com
panionship in a dull journey, than that sublime in
vention — sleep. Let him not therefore, as has been

290 CONCLUSION.
elsewhere said, trouble, by his reproaches, the repose
of one who has contributed so liberally to his.
Those who have laid down our volume with a de
sire to meet us again, we hope again to meet. To
those who have thrown it aside in displeasure we say,
may they never have more serious cause for regret.
To each, and all, farewell ! May they never miss one
link in the fragile chain of their happiness, but may
the smiles which gladden their Christmas hearths be
ever as many, and as bright as now !

THE END.

LONDON :
Printed by Maurice & Co., Fenchurch Slrect.

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T HE LI F E AND TIMES
Ol'
SIR THOMAS GRESHAM,
COMPILKD CHIEFLY FROM HIS CORRESPONDENCE PRJSSEUVED
IN HER MAJESTY'S STATE-PAPER OFFICE:
WL\\\) Jftemotrs of mang of i)f* Contemporaries;,
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By JOHN WILLIAM BURGON.

" O iny Lord Mayor !
This Gresham has much grae'd your Cittie, London :
His fame will long outlive him." Thomas II ey wood, 1609.

The period when Sir Thomas Gresham flourished is replete with interest.
It is the period to which the English historian refers some of the proudest
indications of our national greatness. The Reformation has marked it with
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Sir Thomas Gresham was by no means an inactive spectator of his country's
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dowed seven Lectureships, for the gratuitous instruction of the citizens of
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tension to the notice of a succeeding age on no other grounds. Gresham was
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ROBERT JENNINGS, 62, CHEAPSIDE;
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YALE UNIVERSITY

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