Volume Two—Chapter Fifteen.
Twice had the sun risen over the city of desolation since the dreadful catastrophe of the 1st of November; and the flames yet raged in every part. Nearly twenty thousand persons, it was supposed, had been destroyed by the earthquake; and the greater number of the remaining citizens had quitted the fatal spot, and were encamped in the open fields in the neighbourhood; some with scarcely clothes to cover them, and without food to supply the cravings of hunger. Here all classes and orders of people were promiscuously mingled; respectable citizens reduced to abject poverty by the entire destruction of their property; the hapless virgins dedicated to the service of Heaven, driven from their sanctuaries among the most lawless and abandoned of mankind. Servants and their former masters; ladies, accustomed to gentle nurture, among mechanics, soldiers and porters; the virtuous and the profligate, the rich and the poor, the noble and the beggar, in the same wretched condition. The whole fabric of society was completely disorganised; murders, robberies, and all species of crimes were committed with the most flagrant daring; and naught was heard but groans and cries of distress. Slight shocks still continued to be felt at intervals of every half-hour; famine also had visited them; and, to add to their disasters, the effluvia arising from the vast number of dead bodies which choked up the streets, threatened them with a pestilence; so that hundreds of those who were able had already taken their departure to other towns; and the city would have been completely deserted, had not Sebastiaö Jozé de Carvalho, now created Prime Minister, exerted his utmost power to prevent so unfortunate an event to the kingdom.
It was now that he exhibited, in the greatest degree, that energetic character, and those extraordinary abilities which distinguished him among his countrymen. Having received full powers from the King to act as he judged expedient, both day and night he drove from place to place in his carriage, to observe what was most necessary to be done,—it serving him for his bureau, his couch, and his parlour; the only food he took on the first day being a basin of broth, which the Countess Daun, his wife, brought him with her own hands. His first care was to cut off all communication between the burning part of the city and that which remained entire; for to extinguish the conflagration was beyond his power, or the means of man to accomplish; his next was to despatch messengers into all the surrounding districts, to collect provisions for the houseless inhabitants; and his third was to send round to all the parochial clergy and heads of yet existing convents, to urge them to impress on their congregations and inferiors, as a duty both grateful to Heaven, and called for by man, to bury the dead without delay.
This last order had at first, owing to the paralysation of their energies, with which terror and misery had affected all men, been but negligently obeyed; and the streets were yet, in some places, actually blocked up with the dead, particularly in front of the churches, where they lay piled in heaps, mangled in every shocking way; some burned to cinders or scorched by the flames, and others torn almost to pieces by the savage dogs and vermin. Such sights were, indeed, dreadful to behold, but the eyes of those who had ventured into this arena of devastation and confusion had already become familiarised with them. Some of the noblest in the land had, with philanthropic boldness, wandered amid the ruins, to bear succour to those who might yet providentially remain alive beneath them; and among the first of those charitable persons, who set so bright an example to their fellow-men, was Don John of Bragança, a cousin of the King’s, and brother of the Duke of Lafoens, well-known about that time, in France and England, as the Duke of Bragança. It was reported that, in his presence, a young damsel was dug out of a cellar, in perfect health, on the sixth day, and it was fully believed by the pious that she was, as she affirmed, saved from destruction by clasping a figure of Saint Anthony, which was found in her embrace.
But to return to the day we first spoke of. From all the yet existing churches, mournful processions issued, headed by priests or friars, and accompanied by parties of seculars carrying biers, who perambulated the streets, and bore the bodies of the wretched victims, either to the water’s edge, from whence they were conveyed to the centre of the Tagus, and sunk with weights; or else to large receptacles prepared in the neighbourhood of the city, when quick-lime was thrown in on them. But, though these toiled all day, little progress appeared yet to have been made in the sad work, so great was the number of the dead.
They were not the only people seen among the ruins; for the ruffian banditti continued their depredations, unawed by the summary punishment of two or three of their number, who had been seized in the fact, and hung, by the Minister’s orders, without further trial. But there was one who belonged to neither of those classes, who had been seen, night and day, constantly wandering in every direction, gazing at every female corpse he passed, and eagerly eyeing every person he encountered, fearless of danger from the burning edifices, and disregarding the menaces of the vile wretches he often interrupted in their lawless pursuits. His countenance was worn and haggard, and his dress disordered and soiled, though, from his air and general appearance, he evidently belonged to the Fidalguia. He was closely followed by another person, who, although pale and wearied, did not exhibit the same signs of mental prostration and wretchedness, and was, from his costume and manner, apparently the servant of the first. The day was nearly spent, but still he wandered on, uncertain which way to direct his steps. He stopped to question each person he met; but all considered him as one whose brain had been turned by the horrors of the times, and, disregarding him, hurried by. On he wandered, his search proving, too clearly, as fruitless as at first, till he observed a naval officer, followed by a party of men in uniform, at a little distance: he hurried towards them.
“Have you discovered any traces of her?—have you any chance of finding her?” he eagerly exclaimed, addressing the officer.
“Alas! my dear Luis, no,” answered Captain Pinto. “I have as yet been unsuccessful; but the Minister, to whom I recounted your sad tale, has sent for a person who will to-morrow accompany you in your search, and will be of more aid than all the soldiers of the kingdom. He declares that, if these atrocities, which have disgraced humanity since the fatal day, do not cease, he will inflict such severe chastisement on all malefactors as will effectually terrify others from continuing the like excesses. In the mean time, come and take some rest, or you will to no purpose wear out both body and mind with fatigue.”
“I cannot rest until I have recovered her; or, if she is lost to me for ever, death will bring me the only tranquillity I can hope for,” answered Luis, in a tone of deep melancholy.
Pedro, who had soon discovered and followed his master through all dangers with constant faithfulness, heard this declaration with dismay, and joined the Captain in endeavouring to persuade him to quit his hopeless search for a time, to recruit his strength; but it was not till darkness came on, the first that had shrouded the city for the last three days, for the flames were now subsiding, that he consented to return to the palace of the Marchioness of Corcunda, to snatch a few hours’ troubled rest.
Captain Pinto was obliged to leave him, to perform certain duties he had undertaken by the Minister’s desire, in watching the banks of the river, to prevent the escape of robbers with their booty in that direction.
On the following morning, the carriage of the Minister was beset by numerous persons complaining of the fresh and atrocious outrages which had been committed during the past night.
On hearing the cases, he directly wrote the following decree, in the name of the King:—
“It having been represented to me, that, in the city of Lisbon and its neighbourhood, since the first of the month, many atrocious and sacrilegious robberies have been committed,—churches have been profaned, houses have been broken open, and people, even when endeavouring to save themselves from the falling edifices, have been assaulted with violence in the streets, to the great scandal, not only of Christian piety, but even of humanity,—and considering that like crimes, by their turpitude, make the perpetrators unworthy of the advantage of the usual process of trial, and indispensably require a prompt and severe chastisement, which may put an end to so horrible a scandal,—I decree, that all persons who have been, or shall be, apprehended for the above-said crimes, shall be tried by the simple verbal process by which the deed may be proved, and that those who are found guilty of those crimes, shall be forthwith forwarded, with the said verbal processes, to the Chief Regidor of the House of Punishment, who shall name, without delay, those Judges whom he is accustomed to name in like cases, that they may, without loss of time, also pass judgment on all the aforesaid processes verbal, so that those judgments passed by them shall be put into execution on the very day on which they are passed, and all without embargo of any laws, decrees, edicts, and ordinances whatever to the contrary, because these are passed for this particular purpose, they still retaining their vigour. The same Chief Regidor having thus understood, let him carry it into execution.—Belem, 4th November, 1755.”
Then the Minister despatched orders to the magistrates of every barrier of the city, to erect as lofty gibbets as they possibly could; another decree ordering that the condemned should be immediately hung up, and there left to rot in the sun; and before many days had passed, two hundred persons graced the gibbets; and though probably a few innocent ones may have been among them, the greater number were doubtless a good riddance from society; and, as the Minister observed, violent diseases require violent remedies. This proved the truth of the saying; for the atrocities were at length put a stop to for a time. One man in chains may inspire a youthful Turpins romantic ardour; but we suspect two hundred ghastly corpses would have sickened even Jack Sheppard of his lofty ambition.
We find ourselves anticipating the course of events. As soon as the Minister had ordered the erection of the gibbets, he bethought him it might be as well to assemble some troops to guard them, lest, as the rogues and vagabonds were pretty numerous, they should take it into their heads to hang thereon the honest men instead. Soldiers were, therefore, marched from all directions, so as to form a complete cordon round Lisbon, allowing none to enter or go out without a pass from the chief of police.
It was next thought advisable, since the aforesaid rogues and vagabonds could scarcely be expected to be so convinced of the enormities of their crimes, as to come and offer themselves voluntarily for punishment; and that as they could not possibly be hung without being first caught, any more than a hare can be cooked when still ranging her native fields, that bodies of police should be selected, under fit and proper officers, to apprehend the villains. Some were chosen among the military; but, as the soldiers, it was suspected, might be too apt rather to imitate than suppress the excesses, the greater number were respectable citizens, who were glad to volunteer under good leaders, among whom our friend Captain Pinto was the first chosen.
Even before the morning broke, Luis had again commenced his search for Clara, which proved fruitless as before. On meeting his friend, however, he accompanied him to visit the Minister, to whom he was about to make some reports.
“I have not forgotten you, my young friend,” said Carvalho, as soon as he saw Luis. “Though all require my care, yours is a peculiar case, and here is one who will be of more assistance to you than any other I can afford;” and he called a man to his side, to whom he gave some directions, and motioned towards Luis, when he added, “Farewell, and may success attend you!” and again turned to the public business in which he was engaged. That with Captain Pinto was soon despatched, when, accompanied by Luis and the person the Minister had introduced to him, he returned to the city.
Not to keep our readers in suspense as to who this personage was, we may as well intimate that he was our acquaintance, the ci-devant cobbler, Antonio; though at present he bore none of the signs of his trade about him, but rather had the appearance of a quiet notary, or sedate shopkeeper.
“I will do my best to serve you, senhor,” he said; “but I fear much we shall not discover the young lady. In ordinary times I might have been successful; but now I cannot set about the work in the way I would have done.”
Luis, at Antonio’s desire, gave him an exact description of Clara, (though perhaps he painted her with the pencil and colours lovers are apt to use,) and then of the ruffian who had carried her off, and of whom, for the same reason, it may be supposed, he did not speak in the most flattering terms; but his hearer, who seemed inclined to smile at the narration, made due allowances for both; and by the time the party had reached the ruined part of the city, he had made himself fully master of all the circumstances of the case. He then, turning to Captain Pinto, begged him to separate from them for a time, appointing to meet him at a certain hour, if he was successful in the first steps he intended to pursue.
Accompanied by Luis and Pedro, who would not leave him, he then plunged into the most intricate and narrow lanes of the city, climbing over ruins, among which were seen the mangled and burnt bodies of the wretched inhabitants, scaring, as they proceeded, the gorged dogs from their horrid feast. Now and then only they met a human being; for none, except for the purposes of concealment, had ventured where, even in better days, few were willing to wander unprotected. Antonio spoke to each one he passed, but all shook their heads in answer; yet, not discouraged by his want of success at first, he pursued the same plan, though the appearance of his acquaintances, it must be confessed, did certainly not afford Luis a very high opinion of his character, for a more villainous set of cut-throats it had never been his lot to encounter, although they were habited in the richest and most costly garments; but these were so evidently part of the spoils they had collected, and sat so ill upon them, that they only increased the ferocity and wildness of their countenances. Once or twice they met persons with whom he held rather longer conferences, and he appeared by degrees to be gaining some information which was satisfactory. At length, as they were turning the corner of a street, they came suddenly on a person who endeavoured to escape them, by hurrying, at some risk, among the smoking ruins, the moment he saw them approaching; but Antonio was too quick for him, and running after him, caught him by the arm. The person made no further resistance; but, on the contrary, as soon as he saw who was his pursuer, he embraced him cordially, seeming to feel much pleasure at the rencontre, accompanying him quietly as he walked on, followed at a little distance by Luis and Pedro.
“Do you know, senhor, that I have seen the figure of that man before,” said the latter to his master. “I caught a glimpse of his countenance, and as I am a sinner, and hope to be saved, it is no other than the hermit of Nossa Senhora da Pedra, and the holy padre Frè Lopez.”
“Thank Heaven,” ejaculated Luis, “that we have met him. It must be him, and he is the only man who will be able to assist me;” and he was hurrying to overtake Antonio and his companion, when the latter, giving him a parting embrace, hastened off in a different direction.
“Who was that person?” inquired Luis, as he joined Antonio.
“A very great vagabond, senhor, but yet not near so great a villain as many who profess to be virtuous. I have known him for a long time, and if he could but resist temptation, he would be an honest man; and I would trust my life in his power, provided it was not his interest to take it.”
“If he is the man I supposed, he saved mine three days ago,” returned Luis. “Is he not called Frè Diogo Lopez?”
“That is one of his names, to which he has as great a right as to the coat he now wears; but he is no friar, senhor; no, no, he is too honest for that; but if he is tempted to commit any piece of villainy, he assumes the character, as most appropriate for the purpose, he says. He once entered a monastery as a lay brother, where he learned all the habits and customs of the monks; but they did not accord with the ideas of morality he then entertained, so after a couple of years he quitted them, and has ever since wandered about the country in various disguises, as suits his purpose; but if the holy Inquisition get hold of him, I fear he will not be able to escape their clutches.”
“But has he given you any information that may be of service to us?” interrupted Luis eagerly.
“That is to be proved,” said Antonio calmly; “I know the man from whose power the Frade saved your life, and who carried the lady off; a greater villain there does not exist in Lisbon. I have learned so much from our friend, though the difficulty will be to find this Rodrigo; and the chances are that he will adorn one of the newly-raised gibbets before long. I hope, however, to have an interview with him before that time; and then the sooner he is hung, the sooner will there be one villain less in the world.”
“Is this the only clue you have been able to discover?” said Luis, dejectedly. “I fear that it will be of little service.”
“Fear not, senhor,” answered Antonio: “in the first place, you have the satisfaction of knowing that the lady was not killed by the falling houses, when Rodrigo carried her off; and, in the second, I have reason to suppose that it was not for his own sake he committed the outrage.”
“Thank Heaven for that!” ejaculated Luis.
“In the mean time, our friend the Frade is making inquiries which may assist us,” continued Antonio. “And we will now, by your leave, find Captain Pinto, to whom I wish to make some reports.”
They accordingly proceeded in search of the Captain.
When Don Luis and his companions arrived at the spot where they had agreed to meet Captain Pinto, which was at an open place called the Caes Sodrè, near the royal arsenal, they found the people under his command with several prisoners in their custody.
Antonio examined the countenance of each, but he did not recognise any one till he came to a man lying bound on the ground, his clothes torn and bloody, with two of the guards standing near him, badly wounded. “Ah!” he exclaimed, “Senhor Rodrigo, you know me, I think?”
“Yes,” answered the ruffian; “I am not likely to forget you.”
Luis looked on with anxiety, for he beheld the ruffian who had carried off Clara; but Antonio, desiring to be left alone with the man, knelt down by his side, while Captain Pinto detailed to Luis the circumstances of his capture. His last act had been in character with his former life. The guards were passing a house from which loud cries were heard to proceed, and on entering it an old man was found weltering in his blood on the floor, and a woman was struggling in the grasp of the ruffian, whose shrieks prevented his hearing their entrance. Before they could seize him, however, he had plunged his knife into her bosom; and then turning on them, had wounded two in his attempt to escape; but at last, after a desperate resistance, he was captured.
Luis shuddered as he heard the account. “Has my beloved Clara been in the power of a wretch like this?” he thought.
Antonio held some minutes’ conversation with the bravo. “For what purpose did you carry off the lady?” he said, after some time.
“To serve another, the greater my folly,” was the answer.
“And she is there still?” inquired Antonio.
“Yes, if he has not removed her.—Go, I would have my revenge on him. He has deceived me twice, and you may gain the ransom I expected—and then I shall die happy.”
Before night the corpse of the noted bravo, Rodrigo, was seen hanging from the highest gibbet at the gates of Lisbon.