During these hostilities the court of Lisbon exhibited strange scenes. The depraved tastes, the low and profligate habits, the headstrong perversity of the king daily acquired strength, and afforded a melancholy prospect to the nation. He associated with the lowest of the people; he introduced them into his palace; or accompanied them in nocturnal expeditions, undertaken as much for bloodshed as for mere mischief. His band of young companions became the terror of the capital. By his caprices several youths are said to have been tortured to death; and young girls to have suffered a still worse fate: all his diversions partook of his savage and capricious character. So long as he confined them to boxing in the ring, to wrestling, or to breaking the windows by night, the citizens, however scandalised at such conduct, did not much complain; but when their daughters were seduced, or their sons ill used by the royal satellites, even they began to think that a king might do wrong. When common prostitutes were brought to the palace, which was thereby converted into a brothel, their indignation yielded to contempt. The influence of the queen was ineffectual. At length the indignant nobles, at her instigation, forcibly seized two brothers, the vilest and most dangerous of his satellites, and sent them away to Brazil; but other creatures were found to supply their place.
With all his stupidity, the royal brute felt that he was a king; he knew that the time of his majority was long past; he insisted on being invested with the regal authority in all its extent; and, after a struggle between him and his mother, he forced her, in June, 1662, to resign the regency. The removal of so salutary a rein on his excesses could not fail to make things worse. The licentious youths with whom he surrounded himself disgusted by their conduct the oldest servants of the crown, and forced them to retreat from their public offices. His own extravagances increased. His satellites paraded the streets, or scoured the highways, night and day; they not unfrequently returned with plunder, oftener still with their swords stained with blood. We are told that he even charged the people in a public procession; that he instigated the assassination of some obnoxious nobles; that, to show his contempt of a comet which was believed to be the forerunner of some great change, he fired a pistol at it, at the same time reviling it with the lowest terms of scurrility.
It was hoped that, if a wife were procured him, he would, at least, refrain from some excesses; and one was found in Mademoiselle d’Aumale, daughter of the duke of Nemours. But he treated his beautiful queen with open neglect; he disregarded alike her entreaties, her tears, and her remonstrances; nor did the death of his mother make the slightest change in his conduct.
But the strangest part of these transactions remains to be told. That the queen-mother had resigned her authority with reluctance is certain; that she had entertained thoughts of procuring the transfer of the sceptre from Alfonso to Pedro is confirmed by the general tenor of her actions. It is no less true that Pedro aspired to supplant his brother; that he intrigued with the nobles and prelates for that end; and that, by the outward decorum of his conduct, by a scrupulous regard to the decencies of his station, he laboured to make the contrast between himself and the king too marked to be overlooked. Equally certain it is that no one observed this contrast more narrowly than the youthful queen, who soon formed a suspicious connection with the infante. That their plans for the future were soon arranged, is evident enough from the sequel. When Pedro’s plans were matured, when he had interested a considerable party in his behalf, he sought an open rupture—and he had causes enough—with the king. In October, 1667, a furious mob, which had been gained by his emissaries, conducted him to the palace, insisting that justice should be done him on his enemies. On the 21st of November, the queen hastily left the palace, and retired to the convent of St. Francis. Her pretext was the ill-usage she hourly received from Alfonso. The true reason for so extraordinary a step appeared in a letter in which, after adverting to her domestic sorrows, she surprised the public by saying that her marriage was, from its origin, null; that it had never been consummated.
[1667-1668 A.D.]
The perusal of this extraordinary letter filled Alfonso with indignant wonder. He hastened to the convent, and on being refused admission, he ordered the gates to be broken; but his brother, arriving with an escort, persuaded or compelled him to depart. No sooner was he retired, than the infante had a long interview with her. The subject of their conversation appeared from a letter to the chapter of Lisbon, which contained the same charge of impotence against the king. The counsellors of state forced him to sign an act of renunciation. He was then arrested, and sentenced to perpetual confinement, but with permission to enjoy the comforts of life. In conclusion, Pedro was proclaimed regent; and, in that character, was recognised by an assembly of the states. By his creatures, the same states were persuaded to petition the queen, who no longer showed any inclination to leave the kingdom, that she would accept the hand of so deserving a prince. She required no solicitation. Her uncle the cardinal Vendôme, anxious that his family should contain a queen, expedited it without delay. The marriage was celebrated in haste, lest a papal inhibition should arrive, and blast the fruit of so many intrigues. Subsequently, an application was made to the pope, to confirm the dispensation of the cardinal; and Clement, who saw that the mischief was done, admitted the allegation of impotence, and despatched the brief of confirmation.
Thus concluded one of the most extraordinary scenes that has ever been exhibited to the eyes of mankind—extraordinary alike for effrontery and duplicity. However the constitution of Alfonso might have been impaired by debauchery, he was not impotent. No one labouring under such a disability would have been at the trouble either of visiting the public stews or of introducing women of loose morals into the palace. But, without insisting on this presumptive evidence, we are positively informed that Alfonso had one child at least by his favourite mistress. If the debitum conjugale had never been paid, why should a circumstance so important to the kingdom be concealed during sixteen months? Why should it be mentioned, for the first time, when Pedro was ready to usurp the crown? The whole proceeding is explicable enough. The queen felt that she was neglected; she admired the infante, and was gained by him as an accessory to the long meditated plot of dethroning the king. The means adopted by these paramours were even more daring, more indicative of the contempt with which they regarded public opinion, than the end itself.
[1668-1706 A.D.]
Before this iniquitous consummation of ambition and lust, Pedro had the glory of ending the long dispute with Spain. Both nations were exhausted by their past exertions, and both naturally inclined for peace. It was concluded at Lisbon, under the mediation of Charles II, king of England. By it all conquests made by either party were restored, and the subjects of each nation admitted to the privileges enjoyed by the most favoured people. The arms of Portugal were immediately erased from the escutcheon of the Spanish monarchy. This was almost the only transaction of moment in which the regent was engaged, from his marriage to the death of Alfonso. There was, indeed, a conspiracy formed to restore that prince; but it was easily detected and its authors punished. That unfortunate monarch was first removed to the Azores; and then transferred to the palace of Cintra, where, in 1683, he ended his days. The same year was fatal to the queen, who left no other issue than a daughter, the infanta Isabella.