Portugal -- History -- Joseph, 1750-1777 -- Fiction
We must now proceed to the interior of the palace, which was crowded
with the usual number of guards, pages, and attendants of various
descriptions. Two of the ministers of the crown had already arrived,
and paid their respects; the foreign ambassadors followed, taking their
allotted places in the handsome saloon in which the Court was held,
where also stood the different members of the royal family, arranged on
each side of the sovereigns. The King had just attained his fortieth
year, and was of good height, and that free carriage, which a
consciousness of rank and power rarely fails to bestow; but his features
were far from handsome, with no approach to intellectuality about them,
though there was just that degree of acuteness and firmness which taught
him to select and protect the only man in his realm capable of rescuing
the country from complete destruction. The Queen had but few personal
charms to boast of, being destitute also of those soft feminine graces
which are so often found to make ample amends for the more evanescent
quality of beauty. A haughty expression sat on her lips; her thin and
erect figure was rather above the middle height, the inclination she
made as her subjects passed before her being stiff and formal. Near the
King stood the Infante Dom Pedro, silent, grave, and stern, his features
dark and unprepossessing, a true index of his character, which was
bigoted, fierce, irascible, and sanguinary. Though in no way attached
to his sister-in-law, the Queen, he cordially joined with her in her
hatred of the Minister Carvalho, against whom he never ceased his
machinations; and though his plots were discovered and defeated by the
vigilance of the latter, it was more owing to his brother's clemency and
goodness of heart, than to any forbearance on the part of his enemy,
that he escaped the condign punishment he so well merited at their
hands. Near the Queen stood the young Infanta Donna Maria, a princess
equally prepossessing in appearance and manner, her eyes beaming with
mildness and intelligence, and a sweet smile wreathing itself round lips
which were never known to utter aught but words of gentleness. She
truly dwelt in the hearts and affections of the people over whom she was
destined to rule; and while to the rest of the royal family,
lip-service, with the cold and formal bow, alone was paid, as the
courtiers drew near her, the eye brightened, and the heart beat with
those warm feelings of love and respect which are ever felt by the true
and loyal subjects of her august descendant and namesake, of Portugal,
and by all who surround the throne of the young and beloved Queen of
Britain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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