Don Sebastian : $b or, The house of the Braganza: An historical romance. vol. 1 — John Shaqi
Don Sebastian : $b or, The house of the Braganza: An historical romance. vol. 1Porter, Anna Maria
General
Don Sebastian : $b or, The house of the Braganza: An historical romance. vol. 1
Porter, Anna Maria
Sebastião, King of Portugal, 1554-1578 -- Fiction
It was on the morning of the 29th of November, 1807, that these patriot
emigrants quitted the bay of Lisbon; they looked back on their forsaken
capital, with emotions too strong and too complicated for description:
every individual had left behind him some aged, or infirm, or timid
relative, whom it was agony to abandon, and whom he quitted with the
conviction of never seeing again; the scenes of their childhood, their
vineyards, and their cities, nay even the shores of their native land,
were never more to gladden their eyes!
A solemn pause had followed the noise and distraction of their
embarkation; Lisbon was motionless: profound stillness, like that
silence which surrounds the death bed of a mother, rested within her
walls: every heart felt its impression.
Advancing with majestic slowness down the Tagus, the Portuguese fleet
crossed the bar, and entered between the lines formed by the navy of
England: the cannons of the two fleets answered each other; the sounds,
doubled and redoubled by numerous echoes, were prolonged after the
smoke had cleared away, and discovered the ships of Portugal and of
Britain mingled together on the Atlantic ocean.
Having exchanged gratulation and farewel with the Embassador and the
gallant Admiral of the friendly squadron, the Prince Regent gave a
last, long look to Portugal, and forcibly tore himself from the deck of
his vessel. In the cabin, he found part of the royal family yielding
themselves up to regret and anxiety: he suffered them to weep without
interruption, till the moment in which lamentation made a pause; he
then took the united hands of his daughter, and of his nephew, the
Prince of Spain, and pressing them within his own, held them with a
look, serious, sad, yet collected.
“Let us dry our tears,” he said; “let us bravely submit to our fate,
and bless God for having allowed us to retain that which ennobles
every situation--Freedom!--We go, my children, to seek a new world;
to found there a new empire; it belongs to us to stamp the future
character of an unborn nation:--May we feel the gratitude of such
responsibility!--As our example shall persuade, as our authority shall
impel, so will vice or virtue prevail in Trans-atlantic Portugal; her
existence, her expansion, her dignity, her immortality, depend upon
her princes and nobles. Be this truth engraven on your hearts! may its
awful voice resound for ever in your ears, influencing your lives to
the exercise of all the social duties.”
Among the state treasures, I have preserved one most precious; ’tis the
history of an illustrious ancestor, more unfortunate than ourselves,
but for whom misfortune was a blessing.
“We will read this MSS together; the style and the arrangement may
offend a nice judgment, because they are the production of an humble
pen; but the story itself is interesting, and the character of our
ancestor may serve as an important lesson to ourselves: compose your
spirits my dear children--listen to me with attention.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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