Volume Three—Chapter Three.
In the neighbourhood of Lisbon, the Crown possessed one or two parks, of great extent, which were called Coitadas, stocked with every description of game, both to follow on horseback, or for the exercise of the fowling-piece; that of Alfitte, on the banks of the Tagus, being by far the largest, covering many thousand acres of ground. The King, who was passionately fond of the chase, was in the constant habit of resorting to a country-house he possessed on the borders of the forest, accompanied by some of his favourite courtiers, when, flinging aside all thoughts or cares of government, he gave himself up entirely to his favourite amusement. The kingdom, on these very frequent occasions, would have been allowed to take the best care it could of itself, under a less energetic minister than Carvalho; but that sagacious statesman, encouraging his sovereign in his pursuits, seized with avidity the opportunity of exercising the uncontrolled power thus delegated to him, to the yet further disgust of the haughty nobles of the land. Sometimes, however, he himself, who was a proficient in all manly and athletic exercises, would steal away from the city to join in the sport, though the same evening he might be again found at his post, deeply engaged in the many momentous and difficult affairs which occupied his attention.
It was a bright and glorious morning; the sun had just risen, tinging the topmost boughs of the forest trees, glittering with the clear drops of a gentle shower, which had fallen during the night, giving an additional freshness and lustre to the smiling face of nature. The birds sang their sweetest notes to welcome the morn, as they flew from spray to spray, rejoicing in their unrestrained liberty. The air was soft and balmy, laden with the delicious odours springing from the flowering shrubs and plants which filled the forest glades. Not a human sound was heard to disturb the harmony of nature. It was such a scene as our great poet of rural beauty loves best to describe. Through an opening in the wood, at the end of a long vista, might be seen the shining waters of the broad Tagus, flowing onward in tranquil majesty; and, in every direction, other glades led far away, now lost to view by some gentle elevation, or sinking into some narrow valley.
Suddenly a tall dark figure emerged from the thickest part of the forest, and advancing into the open ground, looked cautiously on every side. Though his step was firm, it possessed none of the elasticity of youth, as he stalked forward, unconsciously lifting his long thin arms aloft, in the energy of his thoughts. His dress, of the coarsest materials, was that of a common labourer; a broad-brimmed hat, from beneath which escaped a few hoary locks, partly concealed his emaciated and parchment-like countenance; yet, though age had there set its furrowing marks, it had not dimmed the wild lustre of his large and rolling eyes. In his right hand he bore a long staff, with an iron point; but he made little use of it to aid his steps, seeming to carry it more as a weapon of defence, than for any other purpose: at his side hung a wallet, such as is used by beggars to contain their food. What was his usual occupation it was impossible to say; for, though his costume betokened the countryman, his manner and words seemed to contradict that idea; and, indeed, from his behaviour, it appeared that he was there for some secret, perhaps no good, purpose.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, as he strode rapidly onward, casting his searching glances around, “the time has arrived when the wicked shall be brought low, and the proud abased; when vengeance is about to fall on the heads of the persecutors of the prophets of Heaven! yet must the task which I am called on to fulfil be accomplished; the words of warning must be spoken ere the blow is struck. Even as the seers of old were sent to those evil kings of Israel who worshipped strange gods, and hearkened to the counsels of their idolatrous followers, so must I utter the messages of Heaven to this hard-hearted Monarch; yet will he not hear, but will continue on still in his wickedness.”
Muttering such words as these, the person continued his course, where we must leave him, to turn to a far more exciting scene, which was enacting at no great distance.
The hunting villa attached to the royal chase was a low straggling building, without the slightest attempt at architectural beauty, the lower story being devoted entirely to the use of the horses requisite for the sport, and their attendant grooms; the upper, possessing a row of windows at equal distances from each other on every side, was divided, with the exception of a few large rooms appropriated to the royal owner, into a number of small ones for the numerous guests who attended him. In front was a broad court-yard, now filled with a large assemblage of horses and their grooms, while several men held in leashes a number of dogs, who were barking loudly, in their endeavours to free themselves from thraldom; some of them, indeed, from being more tractable, probably, than their brethren, were allowed to wander loose among the steeds: the latter, too, were neighing, and pawing the ground, eager to rush forward in the exciting course, which they seemed aware was in store for them. The grooms and huntsmen, while waiting for the appearance of their masters, were laughing and hallooing to each other, cracking their jokes with unreserved freedom, none of that strict decorum usually observed in the neighbourhood of royalty being there perceptible. On a sudden, however, the noisy mirth was checked, and all eyes were directed towards the open gateway, through which the majestic person of the Prime Minister was perceived advancing, mounted on a coal-black steed, which he sat with perfect ease and command. The animal’s moistened neck and panting breath showed that he had not tarried on the road. As he drew in his rein, twenty servants sprang eagerly forward to aid him in dismounting; but, dispensing with their services, he threw himself off, and, without deigning to turn a glance towards them, entered the building.
A few minutes only elapsed, when the King, who had apparently been awaiting his arrival, issued forth in a hunting costume of green and silver, closely followed by several of his nobles, the one nearest to him being his chief favourite, the Marquis of Marialva, (Note) to whom he was addressing his observations; but there was one among the party who seemed neither to consider it an honour nor a pleasure to be in attendance,—this was the Duke of Aveiro, who had, by the Minister’s advice, received a command to accompany his master in the proposed sports of the day. He took but little pains to conceal his dissatisfaction, as he walked on with a haughty air and frowning brow, yet, at the same time, he would not yield the position in the cortège which his rank entitled him to hold, though he neither regarded nor addressed any near him.
“A fine morning we are favoured with, Senhor Marquis,” cried the King, in a joyous tone, speaking to Marialva. “We shall have some good sport, if I mistake not, and many a long-tusked boar will die to-day. Who will be the happy man to kill the first, I wonder?—’twill be your chance, my friend, I trust.”
“Your Majesty is generally the most fortunate hunter,” returned the Marquis; “for few can successfully compete with you in the chase.”
“That is because others are apt to hold back at times, I suspect,” said Joseph, laughing; for the anticipation of his favourite amusement had raised his usually grave spirit. “But to-day, remember, cavaliers, all must endeavour to do their best. We will allow no one to draw rein till they come up with the chase. Listen to my commands, Senhor Duque d’Aveiro. You are but a sluggard sportsman, I fear; but we must imbue you with some of our own fondness for the exciting pastime, and then you will vie with the best.”
“When your Majesty commands, your subjects must obey,” returned the Duke, in a tone which was far from agreeing with the obedient tenor of his words; for he neither had any predilection for the chase, nor was he famed for his proficiency in equestrian accomplishments.
“We will tarry no longer,” exclaimed the King. “To horse, to horse, cavaliers! ’Tis a sin to lose a moment of this tempting weather.” As he spoke, he laid his hand on the bridle of a steed which some grooms had been leading backwards and forwards in readiness, but which they had now resigned to several of the nobles, the Marquis of Marialva performing the office of holding the stirrup while he mounted.
No sooner was he in the saddle than the rest of the party followed his example, a fresh horse being brought out for the Minister, who seemed to enjoy the thoughts of the sport as much as the youngest or idlest among them.
The King led the cavalcade, a little in advance, with Carvalho by his side, who seemed to be communicating some matters of importance, at all events not intended for the ears of the rest. Then came the Duke of Aveiro, the Marquis of Marialva, and other of the first nobles, followed by a crowd of attendants and huntsmen, among whom appeared that faithful counsellor of the Duke’s, Senhor Policarpio; for without him his master never now went abroad. That discreet personage did not seem to partake at all either in his ill-humour or dislike to the amusement, chatting and laughing familiarly with his fellows, who could not fail to regard him as a most amiable character.
Hunting parties have been before so often and ably described by far greater artists than we can ever hope to be, that it were useless and tiresome to our readers to mention the costumes of the sportsmen, and the trappings of their steeds, the numbers of attendants, with their leashes of hounds, the men with long sticks and clappers to rouse the game from their lairs, the cheering sound of the horns, the neighing of the horses, the barking of the dogs, and the shouts and cries of the human beings joining in one wild and exhilarating chorus. We defy any, except the most apathetic or heart-broken, (including some, perhaps, who experience a considerable share of fear in being obliged to sit on horseback at all,) not to feel their spirits rise, and their hearts throb with eagerness to come up with the chase, when they find themselves in such scenes as we have seen depicted.
We do not, for another reason, mention this more minutely; for we suspect that, were we to paint it exactly as it was, it would be found to fall very far short, in interest and even in magnificence, of an English meet, just as the fox breaks from cover. Boar hunting is a very fine thing, we doubt not; but it cannot beat that. The boars in question being detained within the precincts of the park, by sundry tempting baits from time to time held out to them, on condition that they would make no objection to be hunted on occasions, and killed when required, were not quite so fierce as their brethren in the forest of Ardennes, or those which the German barons hunt, as narrated in every romance the scene of which is laid in that picturesque country of rocks, woods, and castles; nevertheless they were formidable adversaries to encounter when their bristles were up, without a long spear and a sharp couteau de chasse in the hand; then an expert butcher could easily cut their throats. They were worth killing, too; for we can vouch for the very excellent hams which their descendants of the present day make, when dried and salted. But we are descending too much into common-day life, so must again mount our Pegasus, and follow the hounds.
The party rode on for some distance into the wood, at that easy pace which enabled the footmen to keep up with them without difficulty, being joined every now and then by some of the nobles who had been more sluggard in their movement.
There was, indeed, a gallant assemblage of cavaliers collected by the time they reached a broad, sylvan glade, in the neighbourhood of which it was expected that a boar, or perhaps a wolf, would be found; for both animals were equally objects of their search. Of the latter there were great numbers in the country, who, descending from their mountain fastnesses during the frosts of winter, took refuge in the forests on the lower lands, where, finding an abundance of provision, they remained till hunted and destroyed, every one waging deadly war against them.
The beaters, with the huntsmen and dogs, now went in front, the first forming a long line; and, with loud shouts and cries, striking every clump of brushwood in their way, advanced slowly forward, the royal party following them closely.
At length, a magnificent boar, of larger size than usual, started from among a mass of tangled shrubs. For a moment, he gazed at his enemies, as if he would have rushed on them, when the footmen retiring behind the cavaliers, the latter galloped their horses towards him. Instinct pointing out to him the hopelessness of contending with so large a force, he turned, and endeavoured to escape by flight. Vain were his efforts: his speed did not equal that of his pursuers; the King, by the tacit consent of his courtiers, being allowed to be the first to come up with him; for, although pretending to urge on their active steeds to the utmost, by swerving more than necessary, as if to avoid the brushwood in their way, they easily effected their purpose. The dogs rushed on him from all sides, compelling him to stand at bay; two he laid, covered with gore, upon the turf; but the others he could not shake off, when the King, plunging his spear into the brawny neck of the now infuriated animal, brought him to the ground. He uttered a loud cry of pain and impotent rage, and the Marquis of Marialva, leaping from his steed, finished the beast’s life, with a stroke of his short hunting sword. The footmen then hastened forward to take possession of the carcass, which was to be conveyed to the royal residence.
While this scene was enacting, Captain Policarpio rode up to his master, the Duke of Aveiro, who had loitered at some little distance apart from the other sportsmen.
“It would save much trouble, if one of the brethren of yonder fierce beast, were to plunge his long tusks into the side of this hunting-loving King of ours,” observed the former, in a low tone.
“You speak truly, my good Policarpio,” replied the Duke; “but such a chance, I fear, is not to be ours. He is too closely surrounded by those sycophantish nobles, who, I verily believe, would risk their own lives to save his, and these brutes have seldom the fortune to kill their hunters. We must wait our time, and trust to our own good arms, and steady aim.”
“An opportunity may offer we thought not of before, though one, we should do well not to lose, if I may so advise your Excellency. The forest we shall traverse is thick, and the probability is great that the King will be separated from the rest of the party. Let him be our game, and let our whole care be to closely follow his movements, never, for an instant, allowing him to escape our sight; then should we find him for a moment alone, and no person at hand, one well-aimed stroke would place the crown on your Excellency’s head.”
“The idea is not bad; but it is utterly hopeless. Even if the King were separated from the others, we should not be able to slay him, without a certainty of discovery,” said the Duke.
“Have no fear on that score, your Excellency; such deeds have often before been done. The bough of a tree may have thrown him from his horse; some concealed assassin may have shot him, or the very animal he was in search of may have overpowered him. We ride on, as if nothing had occurred; the hunters will have gained a long distance from the spot, before they perceive that the King is not of the party; then some time will elapse before any go in search of him, and still more before his corpse is discovered. This will fully account for the escape of the assassins: your Excellency, in the mean time, can easily overtake and ride among the foremost of the hunters, so that no one will suspect you, while I will keep among my equals, and shout, and laugh the blithest of any.”
“You are truly a valuable counsellor, my friend, and with your aid, Heaven favouring me, I may yet succeed. I will follow your advice; but keep not too much in my company, the so doing may draw suspicion on us.”
The weak Duke had just made up his mind to act according to his cunning servant’s suggestion, when a she-wolf started from a cover some way beyond where the boar had been finally brought to bay. Fresh dogs were, as soon as possible, let loose on her; but she had, in the mean time, gained a considerable start of them, making the utmost of her advantage; and giving one fierce glare at her pursuers, she directed her course towards the centre of the forest. Every one was in eager pursuit; but the trees, in some places, grew so densely, that it was impossible for the huntsmen to keep together, or in sight of the quarry. The King, the most excited of any, encouraged them with shouts and gestures to the chase, many, indeed, unintentionally having actually passed him; but the Duke and his wily attendant, holding back their steeds, kept a hawk-eyed glance on his every movement. Suddenly, to their great satisfaction, they observed their intended victim take a narrow path to the right, from supposing, probably, that it would afford a shorter road, while the rest of the party followed a broader way straight forward. The King galloped on, when he found that he had made a mistake, the path leading him at each step further from the cries of the dogs, and the shouts of the men: he perceived also, that he was followed by none of his own attendants; two horsemen only being distinguished approaching him at some little distance. He listened attentively for the sounds of the chase, and could yet clearly distinguish them on the left, in which direction he searched eagerly for an opening in the wood, through which he might proceed at a fast pace, without running the risk of being bruised among the trees. At last he arrived at a part of the wood where the trees grew further from each other; and just as the Duke and Senhor Policarpio were about to gallop towards him, the latter, with the intention of plunging his long hunting spear into his back, he disappeared among them. The King, little thinking of the treachery meditated against him, passed through what he found to be merely a narrow belt of trees, closely pursued by his intended murderers, till he found himself in a small amphitheatre; the soil soft and damp, from a bubbling stream, which issued forth from some rugged, dark rocks, which rose on every side, while the most lofty trees of the forest grew around. He had before been led to the spot, in the course of a day’s sport, and he knew it to be near the centre of the domain. There was but one path which led from it, in the direction he wished to pursue, between two overhanging rocks, and this he was about to take, when the traitors again overtook him. It was a spot fit for their fell purposes; no prying eye might observe them, nor was any huntsmen likely to be led thither. Another moment, and his life would have been ended; when a tall dark figure rose directly in his path. The woodland apparition, for so seemed the stranger to the guilty consciences of the assassins, caused them to pause in their intention. The King’s steed snorted and reared at the sudden interruption to his career, nor was his rider less amazed at beholding the strange figure, who, with wild and frantic gestures, presented itself before him. As our readers may possibly have guessed, he was the same mysterious personage whom we described as wandering about the wood in the early part of the morning.
The Monarch was the first to speak, for he conjectured that some insane peasant, probably, having wandered into the woods, had been startled from his sleep, and was not aware of the impropriety of his actions.
“Who art thou, friend, who thus venturest to intrude into our royal domain? Say, what wantest thou? but, be quick in thy speech, and impede not our progress; for we yet hear the sounds of the chase at a distance.”
“I am one whose hands thou hast kissed, and whose feet thou hast washed, proud King, in the days of thy innocence and happiness; but one whom thou hast since despised, and driven from thy presence with ignominy. Will that suffice thee? My message I give not in the presence of the vile panders to thy follies and vices I see approaching.”
And he pointed towards the Duke of Aveiro and Senhor Policarpio, when the King, now for the first time, perceived that he was not alone. While the stranger was speaking, they came up, bowing profoundly; but the Monarch had been seized with a strong desire to know what the aged man before him could possibly have to say; and, being well armed, he thought not of personal danger. He therefore desired the Duke and his attendant to ride on, and endeavour to discover the rest of the party, saying he would follow in their track, as soon as he had listened to what the peasant had to communicate. The Duke was obliged to obey, although he regarded the stranger suspiciously; for, at the first glance, he recognised in him the holy Father Malagrida, and it instantly occurred to him, that he was about to betray his own treacherous designs. At first, it flashed across his mind, that his only chance of safety would be to destroy both Joseph and the Priest at once; but his superstitious awe of the Father, prevented him from committing the deed. He rode on, therefore, followed by Policarpio, their former intention yet unaltered.
“Let us draw rein here, if it please your Excellency,” said the latter, as soon as they had lost sight of the King; “we shall have now a fairer opportunity than ever. As he passes by, we will rush at him, and strike him dead. Yonder peasant will be accused of the deed, and we shall escape suspicion.”
“Know you not who yonder seeming peasant is?” exclaimed the Duke. “He is no peasant, but the holy Jesuit Malagrida, for what purpose come hither, I know not; but I fear me much it cannot be for any good, except he seeks to take the trouble off our hands by despatching the King himself.”
“It would be a useful deed, forsooth,” said Policarpio. “Yet, no matter, if he slays him not; his very appearance will aid our purpose; for many must have seen a stranger wandering about, who will be the first suspected; and, as he will probably make his escape, he will inform no one that he saw us. Does not your Excellency think so?”
“Your sagacity is above all praise,” answered the Duke. “You deserve to be a prime minister, my good Policarpio; and you shall be if my plans are successful. They must be so, or—”
He dared not to utter the alternative.
“Fear not, my noble master; success must attend us,” interrupted Policarpio.
Such was the conversation the pair, worthy of each other, held, while concealed among some thick-growing shrubs, in anxious expectation of their victim’s arrival.
As soon as the King found himself alone with the aged peasant, he repeated his former question—“Say, what wantest thou, my friend?”
“For myself, I require naught; but I come for thy benefit, O hard-hearted and impious King; for our Lord, in his mercy, remembering the bright promise of thy youth, in the days of thy tainted father, has taken compassion on thee, and will not suffer thee to be destroyed without a given warning. Hear me, O King! while I speak the words of Heaven! If thou turn not from thy evil course; if thou ceasest not to cherish the persecutor of our holy religion, in the persons of her most faithful servants; if thou still wilt refuse to receive the fathers of the Order of Jesus into thy palace, and trustest to the vain words and counsels of the pampered and false sons of our Church, then will a speedy vengeance fall on thy head. Even now is thy name registered among those doomed to die, who will not repent of their sins: even now has the fiat of thy fate gone forth, which naught but the prayers of the faithful can turn aside. Be warned, then, O King! in time. Repent! and be saved from destruction. If not, before many suns have set, thy haughty head shall be brought low, and thou shalt mingle with the dust from whence thou sprangest. Ah! thy dying groans now ring upon mine ear. I see thy blood-stained corpse upon the ground, while the demons of hell rejoice that they have gained another victim. Thy proud race shall cease, and thy name shall be held in abhorrence by all the faithful followers of our holy religion.”
“Cease, cease, whoever thou art, mysterious man,” exclaimed the King, interrupting him, and trembling with agitation. “We tarried not to hear words like these. We fancied that thou earnest to inform us of some plot against our throne and life. Speak, who art thou? that we may know how much credence to give to thy words.”
“I am one whom thou hast persecuted—I am the Father Malagrida!”
“Ah! why, then, this strange garb? and how darest thou to approach our royal person?” cried the King.
“I dare do all that is commanded me; and for this peasant garb, it enabled me, unperceived, to enter this domain, where, living on the berries of the trees, and roots from the earth, have I long waited to meet thee thus. Wilt thou then promise to amend and turn from thy wickedness?”
“Silence! daring Priest!” cried the King. “Begone to the town appointed for thy residence, or I will command my attendants to seize thee, and commit thee to the lowest dungeon in our prisons.”
“I fear thee not, and dare thy vengeance! Thou hast set the seal upon thine own fate. From henceforth no warning voice shall meet thine ear; and rapidly shalt thou run thy course unto destruction. I would have saved thee, but thou wouldest not be saved. Wretched Monarch, we meet no more!”
Joseph, who wanted not personal courage, (indeed cowardice has never been a failing of his race,) and was above the vulgar superstitions of his country, enraged more than terrified by these daring threats, made an attempt to seize the mad Jesuit; but Malagrida, perceiving his intention, eluded his grasp, and uttering a loud laugh of derision, plunged among the rocks and brushwood, whither it was impossible for the King to follow on horseback.
In vain the Monarch attempted to cut off his retreat. After searching for him for a considerable time, he was obliged to desist; and then set off at full speed, in the hopes of quickly finding the Minister and his nobles, and despatching people to apprehend the daring Jesuit.
The Duke and his attendant watched eagerly for his approach; every instant they expected to triumph in his destruction; at last they beheld him galloping towards them through the wood, when the loud shouts of men, the sound of horses, and the barking of the hounds, broke on their ears, nearer approaching the spot where they were concealed. Onward came the King, when, as he was within a few yards of them, a wolf, closely pursued by the most active dogs, dashed by, his eyes straining, and his mouth covered with foam from rage and terror. The King, forgetful of the scene in which he had just engaged, and of everything except the excitement of the sport, turned his horse’s head, and gave chase after the wolf. The savage animal, already almost spent with fatigue, was quickly overtaken, and ere he could stand at bay, the spear of the King had pinned him to the ground, when the dogs setting on him, had almost torn him to pieces, before a party of the noble hunters, with Carvalho at their head, could come up. What was their surprise on finding their sovereign in at the death, when it was supposed that he had followed another quarry in a different direction. All, of course, were loud in praise of his skill and address; none more so than the Duke of Aveiro, who soon rode up as if he had never harboured a thought of treachery.
At last Joseph recollected Malagrida, and calling the Minister to him, he recounted all that he had said. Carvalho, inwardly cursing his master’s supineness, in not having at once informed him of the circumstance, advised him to summon all the party to aid in apprehending him. Leaving, therefore, all thoughts of further sport for wild beasts, they eagerly joined in what was, after all, far more exciting, and suited to their natures—the hunting down a fellow-creature, though none were told who was the person. They searched everywhere; not a bush in the neighbourhood was left unbeaten; but Malagrida had escaped, and, at last, in despair, they were obliged to desist, when fatigue warned the King that it was time to return home, and Carvalho immediately set off on his return to the city.
Note. This is the same worthy noble Mr Beckford so frequently mentions, and with whom he was residing while at Lisbon.