At that moment a shout from the multitude without, broke the solemn pause; the next instant this cry was heard—“a Prince! a Prince is born!” The whole mass of suppliants started from the earth; the organ burst into a loud swell; the priests and the people joined their voices; and the dome of the cathedral rang with hymns and thanksgiving.
Thus in the midst of national hopes and fears was born the heir of Portugal. His grand-uncle, the cardinal Don Henry, soon afterwards named him Sebastian, in honor of the saint’s day upon which he was given to their prayers; and then rejoicings and illuminations took place all over the kingdom.
When the princess Joanna’s safety was thoroughly ascertained, the mournful task of preparing her to hear the account of her husband’s death was undertaken by the Queen: she gradually presented less cheering letters from her son; till at length venturing to pronounce the fatal truth, she called upon the princess to live for her child and them. Joanna heard not these exhortations: she swooned repeatedly; reviving only to call, with frantic cries, upon him whose “ear was now stopped with dust.”
From that hour no human effort availed to comfort her: scarcely sixteen, this heaviest of all mortal sorrows was the first suffering her heart had known: even her infant son, though she loved him to agony, failed to reanimate her hopes: as she held him in her arms she would bathe him in tears and think but the more of his father. A curtain of adamant had fallen between her and the world: she felt it; and fearful of being urged into new engagements hereafter, determined upon withdrawing to the sanctuary of a religious profession.
While the widowed princess was inwardly revolving how best to compass this melancholy desire, she was summoned into Spain by her brother Philip II., then just setting out for Flanders to negociate his nuptials with Mary of England. By accepting the regency during his absence, she hoped to find an opportunity for tranquillizing her mind previous to a renunciation of all sublunary ties; and trusted, that when far from the scene of past happiness and future anxiety—when removed from the afflicting pleasure of her infant’s smiles, she might succeed in giving up her whole soul to Christ and God. Aware of the opposition which would be made to this resolution in Portugal, the princess confined it to her own breast; but while she took an affecting leave of the King and Queen, could not refrain from exclaiming—“O my parents! we shall never meet again.” These words were at the time ascribed to the forebodings of a heart which believed itself breaking, but were afterwards remembered as proofs of a steadily pursued resolution.
From her child the youthful mother tore herself with difficulty: in the midst of its innocent endearments, she felt that all delightful emotions had not been buried with her husband. For the first time her heart whispered that she was not utterly desolate, since she had yet something precious to relinquish.
Melted from her purpose, trembling, and bathed in tears, Joanna sunk upon a seat: “Ah, my child!” she exclaimed, straining it to her breast—“how can I leave thee to see thee no more?”
The King and Queen not venturing to speak, folded their arms around her: their tremulous, yet strong pressure, spoke a joyful hope of detaining her: at that instant she raised her eyes, overflowing with consent; but they fell on the picture of Juan drawn in his bridal habit. At this piercing sight, she shrieked, covered her face, wildly repeating—“O no, no; I shall but love him and lose him too.”
Impressed with this sudden dread of living to witness the premature death of her son, the princess broke from every attempt to detain her, and hurried through the palace. Her retinue waited at the gates: she threw herself into a carriage, and amidst guards and attendants left Portugal never to return.
A destroying angel seemed at this period to be commissioned for the affliction of that unhappy country. The death of prince Juan had been followed by the voluntary departure of his interesting widow; and regret for the last misfortune, was absorbed in grief for the loss of Louis, Duke de Beja, brother to the King: the King himself, sinking under sorrow and sickness, shortly afterwards terminated his exemplary life, leaving a monarch of three years old, whose long minority threatened many political calamities.