“I should fear nothing to serve my master,” said Policarpio. “But how can the death of the Minister alone place your Excellency on the throne?”
“Hark, you!” whispered the Duke, drawing his servant close to him. “The king himself may die. He is weak and sickly; or he may be killed while hunting; he may be thrown from his horse, or a shot may strike him.—Ha! dost thou understand me?”
The attendant nodded, a smile of satisfaction passing over his features. “I comprehend, I comprehend; nor will your Excellency’s hint be thrown away.”
Much more, to the same effect as the above, the Duke spoke, a mixture of blasphemy, folly, and daring, to which his worthy servant listened with profound humility and attention, fully determined to take advantage of the knowledge he had gained; if successful, to follow the fortunes of his master, or to betray him, if he saw a probability of his plans failing: and thus are traitors nearly always served.
However, we must confess that we take no interest in these personages, or their conversation; nor do we believe that it would either instruct or amuse our readers—which is our only aim in writing—were we to detail it: we therefore refrain from doing so. Indeed, would the truth of history allow us, we would gladly consign all bad characters to the shades of oblivion, and describe such only as had high and noble motives for their actions; but, alas! as the world is constituted, did we do so, we should be most justly accused of compiling an extravagant and absurd romance, without either truth for the groundwork, or nature in the colouring; thus neglecting what we conceive are the great rules to be observed by those who would paint an historical picture of days gone by. We are, therefore, compelled to introduce such a man as the Duke of Aveiro, in whom we have sought, but sought in vain, to discover some redeeming qualities; but he appears to have possessed but few friends, even among his own class, and those of his own political opinions; as he is described by all as a man singularly ignorant and grossly superstitious; of a vindictive and savage disposition, and arrogant and haughty to all who approached him. We wished to have drawn him otherwise; but we found it impossible so to do and adhere to truth. This we mention, that our readers may not suppose we have caricatured in his person a Portuguese nobleman of the past century, who could thus weakly yield to the instigations of a designing madman like Malagrida, and believe in his blasphemous prophecies; but we can assure them that we have faithfully translated the very language of that person, avoiding even much that might shock the ear of the present generation.
The insane ambition of the Duke being once kindled with the hopes of promised success, every thought of his mind was occupied with projects, equally replete with wickedness and folly, to compass his end; nor did he from that time forth again know one moment of tranquillity or happiness. Leaving his duchess and young son at Azeitaö, he, a few days afterwards, set off for Lisbon, with a nephew, who constantly resided in his house, accompanied by his constant attendant, Captain Policarpio, and followed by a train of servants.
Volume One—Chapter Eleven.
We invariably feel much satisfaction, when, in turning over the pages of the manuscripts before us, we come to the name of Don Luis d’Almeida, albeit he played no very conspicuous part in the events of the times; yet we take pleasure in following his course, and we also feel tolerably certain that we are about to read of some interesting adventure.