The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 81

(Continued from page 155.)

O! Why did he request me _such_ a manner to make him a sacrifice which would have rendered me miserable! I wished then the first time in my life, that he had spoken to me in a menacing, domineering, or only in a harsh tone, then I should have had a pretext for resisting him, and enforcing my own will. But how could I have had the courage to contradict that tender solicitation, that entreating persuasion of a father. And yet, was I not necessitated to do something worse, to counteract my parent? I never felt more strongly than at that moment, that it was utterly impossible for me to renounce the possession of Amelia. Alas! never was a situation more unfortunate than mine, and never has a human heart been reduced to such a dreadful conflict with itself by two people so dear as my father and Amelia were to me.

I looked around with weeping eyes in search of a person to whom I could unbosom my straitened heart. I went to the Marquis of Ferei*a.*

[* Here I have expunged a picture which the painter has drawn of me, with too much partiality.

MARQUIS OF FEREI*A.]

I had not informed him of my return; he uttered a scream of joy when he saw me enter his apartment. However, his satisfaction at my return made room to sorrow, when I acquainted him with my deplorable situation.

"Yes, my friend!" said he, after he had viewed me some minutes with looks of pity, "if it is in your power to subdue that pa.s.sion, then let me implore you--"

"Don't finish that sentence!" I interrupted him, "it is impossible!"

"If that is the case, then only two ways are left to you to attain the consent of your father; one of which is tedious and rugged, but straight."

"Name it!"

"You must endeavour to work upon the nerves of the paternal heart in such a manner, that his affection for you gets the better of his ambition."

"And the second---"

"It is a bye-road which will lead you soon and safely to the mark---serpents are, however, lurking on that road, and tygers lying in ambush---"

"Don't name it!"

"I will name it, in order to caution you against it---it is called Alumbrado. O my friend!" squeezing my hand affectionately, "go take the straightest road."

"That I will, you have given me a very bad character of that Alumbrado."

"And would not retract a syllable of what I have wrote."

"Where is he, I have not yet seen him."

"He is abroad."

"I am curious to get acquainted with him."

"Don't come near him, lest he catch you in the same snare in which he has caught your father."

"Fear nothing, I shall endeavour to deliver my father from that shameful captivity."

"O! if you could do it! But be on your guard, lest he whom you are going to draw out of the pit, drag you after him into the abyss."

I promised it, and he clasped me in his arms.

Previous to my departure from P----l, I had promised the Marquis to keep a journal, and to insert the most remarkable incidents, which I was to communicate to him after my return. He enquired now after that journal.

"It abounds with remarkable incidents," I replied, "and you will learn strange things on perusing it: I have not mentioned a syllable of them in my letters to you, in order to surprise you. However, you must curb your curiosity till I shall have arranged my papers."

The Marquis consented to my request.

My n.o.ble friend! you will forgive me that artifice. It was a mere pretext, in order to stay your curiosity till the revolution should have taken place; for I had promised the Irishman to observe the strictest silence till then. It was no mistrust that influenced me, but duty imposed upon me by the promise I had made; and the event proved that I acted wisely in doing so.

Four days after my first meeting with my friend, the Irishman stopped me one evening in going home. His eyes flashed like lightning, his features were distorted, his countenance was truly dreadful. "Have you," said he, grinding his teeth, "betrayed the conspiracy to Vascon*ellos?" "No,"

I replied. "Have you warned him of the impending danger in some other manner?" "No." "Have you disclosed the secret to one of your friends?"

"To no man living." "Can you pledge your honour for the truth of your declaration?" "I can."

These questions succeeded each other rapidly, and he left me with equal haste. I was almost petrified at this incident. My astonishment, however, soon gave place to a different sensation, for I concluded from the words, and the perturbation of the Irishman, nothing less than that the plot had been discovered. The intelligence which I gained afterwards seemed to confirm this conjecture. Vasconcel*os had left his castle suddenly and crossed the river Ta*o, a circ.u.mstance that justly had raised the suspicion of his having discovered the plot through one of his numberless spies, and instantly made preparations for seizing the conspirators. However, this apprehension was refuted that very night.

Vasconcel*os had only been at a feast, and returned late at night in high spirits, and preceded by a band of musicians, not suspecting that he would be a dead man at that hour the following night. I myself did not imagine that the revolution would break out so soon, although I knew that event to be drawing near. The day following, (December 1, 1640) at eight o'clock in the morning, the conspirators repaired in small divisions from all parts of the town to the Ducal Palace, partly on horseback, and partly on foot, but most of them in coaches or chairs, in order to conceal their arms. The number of n.o.blemen, most of whom were the chiefs of their families, amounted to fifty, and that of the citizens to two hundred. As soon as it had struck eight by the clock of the cathedral, Pinto Rib**ro, one of the Duke's privy counsellors, gave the last signal for the attack by firing a pistol, and the conspirators marched to the different places of their destination.

Pinto Rib**ro repaired with his troop to the palace of Vascon*ellos, who was so little prepared for the unexpected attack, that he scarcely could get time to conceal himself in a chest. However, he was discovered, saluted with a pistol shot, stabbed with a number of poniards, and thrown out of the window amid the loud exclamation; "The tyrant is dead!

long live liberty and King John, the new Sovereign of Port***l!"

The populace who were a.s.sembled under the windows of the palace, repeated these words with loud acclamations of joy. In order to protect the corpse against the fury of the mob, the society of charity pressed their way thro' the crowd, and carried it away on a bier, which is only used at the burials of slaves.

Meanwhile another troop had penetrated into the palace of the Vice-Queen. The Archbishop of Bra*a, who was with her, and as a near relation of Vasconcel**s, had also been doomed to destruction, was saved with great difficulty from the fury of the conspirators by the intercession of Miguel d'Al*eida. The Vice-Queen turned to the conspirators when they rushed into her apartment, declaring that Vasconce*los had deserved their hatred, but that they would be treated as rebels if they should proceed a step farther. She however was told, that so many n.o.bles had not a.s.sembled merely on account of a wretch who ought to have been executed by the public hangman, but in order to restore the crown to the Duke of Bra--za, who was the lawful owner of it. The Vice-Queen began to talk of the power which she had been entrusted with by the king of Spa*n. The reply was, that no one could be acknowledged as King but John, Duke of B----a. She now offered to run out of the apartment in order to implore the a.s.sistance of the people; however, some of the n.o.blemen stopped her, telling her it would be dangerous to suffer her to appear before a people who had been oppressed many years, and were highly exasperated.---"And what could the people do to me?" she said with scornful looks. "Nothing else but throw your highness out of the window;" one of the n.o.blemen replied. The Archbishop of Bra*a was so much exasperated at this speech, that he seized a sword in order to avenge the Vice-Queen. Almei*a however embraced and entreated him to retire, because he had had great difficulty to persuade the conspirators to spare his life. This discovery disarmed at once the zeal of the Prelate.

Meanwhile the chiefs of the Spani--ds had been seized, and the conspirators requested the Vice-Queen to send an order to the Commander of St. Ge* to surrender; for that castle, which commanded the whole town, was still in the possession of the Spani--ds. The Vice-Queen refused to comply with their request; yet when she was told that her refusal would be the signal for killing all the imprisoned Spani--ds, she drew up the desired order, expecting that no attention would be paid to it. However the commander of the castle, who did not dare to defend himself, executed her order literally, and thus the town was freed of all fear. It is almost incredible how quickly and easily the four troops of the confederates took the posts allotted to them, and gained their aim. But much more astonishing is the readiness and the quickness with which not only the whole kingdom, but also all foreign settlements followed the example of the capital. The revolution no sooner had begun than it was accomplished. It is the only one in its kind, and a similar one never will happen.---The execution of it proves with how much wisdom it has been designed and conducted.

It was, however, like a sudden clap of thunder to my father, and affected him with redoubled force, because it happened so unexpectedly.

The slow rising of the tempest, the silent brewing on the political horizon had been concealed from him by his retirement from the world, and even the visible forerunners of it, which at last forced themselves upon his eyes, appeared to him to be nothing but the lightning arising from transient vapours. The sudden eruption of the tempest, and its consequences almost petrified him. His silent stupor soon gave room to the loudest manifestations of his dissatisfaction; and nothing but repeated persuasions to yield to stern necessity and superiority, could prevail upon him to remain quiet.

(_To be continued._)

COMPa.s.sION---AN ANECDOTE.

A respectable character, after having long figured away in the gay world at Paris, was at length compelled to live in an obscure retreat in that city, the victim of severe and unforeseen misfortunes. He was so indigent, that he subsisted only on an allowance from the parish. Every week a quant.i.ty of bread was sent to him sufficient for his support, and yet at length he demanded more. On this the curate sent for him. He went: "Do you live alone?" said the curate; "With whom, sir," answered the unfortunate man, "is it possible I should live? I am wretched; you see that I am, since I thus solicit charity, and am abandoned by all the world." "But, sir," continued the curate, "if you live alone, why do you ask for more bread than is sufficient for yourself?" The other was quite disconcerted, and at last, with great reluctance, confessed that he had a dog. The curate did not drop the subject. He desired him to observe, that he was only the distributor of the bread that belonged to the poor, and that it was absolutely necessary that he should dispose of his dog.

"Ah, sir," exclaimed the poor man, weeping; "and if I should lose my dog, who is there then to love me?" The good pastor melting into tears, took his purse, and giving it to him, "take this, sir," said he; "this is mine---this I can give."

REMARK.

The wisdom of Solomon has produced few things more just, than that 'we should not judge of a man's merit by his great qualities, but by the use he makes of them.'

EXTRAORDINARY INSTANCES OF GRAt.i.tUDE.

_From 'WATKINS' Travels into Swisserland, Italy, Sicily,' &c._