The Prime Minister

“No, holy Father, trust to my gratitude,” answered the Duke. “The Church, under my protection, shall flourish in full power; and you shall ever remain the guardian of my conscience, and my spiritual adviser.”

“Such is well, my son,” answered the Jesuit; “and, ere long, your good intentions will be rewarded. In the meantime, be prepared for the events which are at hand, and be not dismayed by the difficulties in your path. He who would succeed must suffer all things, and dare all things; nor fear but that the Church will grant absolution, even unto the shedding the blood of the wicked.”

“I understand your words; Father,” answered the Duke, in an agitated and hollow tone. “The matter you speak of is of deep importance, and requires mature consideration; yet would I hazard all to destroy that upstart Carvalho, who so insolently lords it over us nobles, by birth his masters.”

Thus conversing, the Duke and Malagrida continued pacing the orange grove till the quick coming shades of darkness made it no longer safe to speak aloud on such dangerous subjects, lest any, unperceived, might approach and overhear them.

As the name of the Father Malagrida was at one time known over a great part of the Catholic world, by some lauded as a saint and prophet, by others scorned as an impudent hypocrite and impostor, we may be excused for giving a slight sketch of his history.

Gabriel Malagrida, an Italian, was born in 1689, at Mercajo, in the Milanese, and was thus, at the time we have introduced him, upwards of sixty years old. At an early age he migrated to Portugal, then the paradise of priests and religious adventurers of all classes, but particularly of the Jesuits, who possessed the supreme control over the consciences of the royal family and the chief nobility; and into that order he was there, after the usual probation, admitted. His peculiar talents were soon discovered, and he was despatched as a missionary to South America. Over the whole of that part under the dominion of Portugal he travelled barefooted and alone; his only sustenance the wild roots and herbs, which he dug with his own hands; his body being covered with the marks imprinted on it by the teeth and claws of the wild beasts he encountered. Having escaped the glories of martyrdom, such a life fully entitled him to the character of a saint of the very first order, which, on his recall by his superior, he took every opportunity to improve; adding to it that of a prophet and worker of miracles, thousands being ready to swear to the fulfilment of the predictions he had uttered, and to the miracles he had wrought. King John the Fifth, of pious memory, who ever preferred the society of bigots, flatterers, buffoons, and fools, to the cares of government, for which he probably felt a consciousness of total incapacity, leaving his kingdom to rapid decay, while he was slowly toiling to merit heaven and gain forgiveness for rather numerous peccadillos, which private memoirs hint he had some difficulty in giving up, had distinguished Malagrida by marked partiality, and had performed what were called exercises under his direction. He had, likewise, been a favourite with the queen, Mary Anne of Austria; and, on his return from South America, the present king, Joseph, then Prince of Brazil, had gone out to meet him, and throwing himself at his feet, had implored his blessing. It is, indeed, scarcely possible, in the present day, to conceive a Court so completely debased by superstition, so overrun by herds of slothful, ignorant, or designing priests, as was that of Lisbon; from whose worse than Augean filth it was Carvalho’s Herculean undertaking, in some degree, to cleanse it for the time. Malagrida having thus retained almost supreme power over the consciences of the chief persons in the realm for a long series of years, his hatred was rancorous and deadly against the man who had deprived him of it; and the Minister had occasion for the utmost watchfulness and talent to guard himself against the secret machinations and the public attacks with which he and the rest of his order attempted to destroy him.

When Carvalho first returned to Portugal, after his embassy to the Court of London, he had paid every respect to the Jesuits, particularly to Father Moreira, the confessor to the Prince of Brazil, in order, by his aid, to gain the confidence of the heir to the throne; but no sooner did he find his power secure, than he threw off the mask and proclaimed himself the enemy of the whole order, whom he declared the chief cause of the ignorance and bigotry of the people.

It is not surprising, therefore, that they should regard with fear and hatred a man so opposed to all their principles of government; and, accordingly, they used every means in their power to instigate the people against him, thundering anathemas on his head from their pulpits, and spreading tracts, loaded with abuse, among all circles. No one equalled Malagrida in the measures he took, or the daring he exhibited; but, though years first rolled on, the bitter and relentless vengeance of the Minister ultimately overtook him.

Such was the man we left with the Duke of Aveiro: their conference was yet unfinished, when, having taken another turn, they had reached the further end of the avenue, which led to a small grotto of stone-work, surrounded by a thicket of low shrubs. Malagrida laid his arm on the shoulder of the Duke, exclaiming, with deep energy, “Nought but the death of the persecutor of its servants will satisfy the vengeance of Heaven.”

A hollow voice echoed, “the vengeance of Heaven!” and, at the same time a noise was heard in the shrubbery. Both the monk and the noble started – perhaps neither had quite deceived themselves as to their secret aims.

“Avaunt thee, Sathanas, if thou art the spirit of evil,” exclaimed Malagrida.

The Duke trembled with agitation. The rustling noise was again heard. “Ah! ’tis some villain spy,” he cried, drawing his sword and rushing towards the spot. “His death shall secure his silence.”

Being now persuaded that it was a mortal enemy he had to encounter, his boldness returned, and, without hesitation, he sprung into the thicket; but all was silent: the gloom preventing his seeing many feet before him. He beat about for a considerable time, plunging his sword into every bush that appeared darker than the others; but to no purpose, for the sound was not repeated. Malagrida watched on the outside, but no one appeared.

“It was a deception of the evil one, to turn us from our path,” he cried. “Come forth, my son, and fear not. That was no mortal voice we heard, and with me you need fear no spirit of darkness.”

The Duke at length came out of the shrubbery, his dress torn and disordered, and his voice yet trembling with alarm. “Surely some one must have been hidden there,” he said: “yet, if there was, he must have escaped, and will report our words to one who is not likely to forget them.”

“Fear not; no mortal could have remained undiscovered,” answered the Jesuit; “and of nought else need you be afraid.”

“Since you affirm it, Father, I am convinced also that the noise was caused by no mortal being,” said the Duke; “but we ought no longer to remain here. I like not this threatening gloom. Let us return to the more open ground: the air here is oppressive and damp, and aids to conjure up doubts and fears to my mind.”

“Again, I say, fear not; but remember my words – both dare and do,” returned Malagrida. “It is now time that I should depart.”

“First come, then, to the house, holy Father, and take some refreshment and rest,” said the Duke.

“My body requires neither food nor rest when I am about a great work,” answered the Priest. “It is advisable, also, that I should be observed by none of your retainers. Return, then, to your house, and forget not what I have said. I will tarry in this spot to see if the evil one shall again venture to make his presence known, and if he comes not before long, secretly, as I came, will I again depart. Farewell, my son.”

The Duke, however, was unwilling to leave the side of the holy man, with the prospect of a long dark avenue before him, which he must traverse alone, exposed to the assaults of the spirits of evil; but Malagrida signed him to depart, waving his arms wildly round, and then, turning towards the grotto, disappeared in the gloom.

He waited not a moment longer, but with quick steps hurried towards his house, his heart beating with apprehension; and, as he went, he fancied that he heard voices on every side gibbering and muttering threats and curses against him, till his terror made him break into a run; nor did he stop till he arrived at the door of his mansion. Pale and breathless with the exertion, his brow covered with perspiration, he rushed into the room where his duchess was sitting, not perceiving her, and threw himself into a seat. She looked up, alarmed, marking his disordered appearance.

“What is the matter with my lord?” she said, as she approached him, and took his hand.

The contact of a human being, and one for whom he possessed as much affection as he was capable of feeling for any, revived his spirits. “Oh! nothing, nothing!” he answered. “A freak made me run faster than I have run since I was a boy.”

“I rejoice to hear it; for I feared you were ill, or that something had alarmed you,” returned the Duchess.

“Oh no! I am well – perfectly well,” exclaimed the Duke, bursting into a wild laugh. “Ha! ha! What think you of the title of Queen, fair lady? Would it not be a proud thing to be a king, to trample on the neck of that insolent plebeian Carvalho, who now lords it so boldly?”

“He is a bad man, my lord,” answered the Duchess, meekly; “and Heaven will punish him.”

“Bad! he is the incarnation of the evil one,” cried the Duke, stamping his foot. “But you answer not my question. Would you not be a queen, and see your Marquezinho a prince? Ha! then you might be proud indeed!”

“I seek not for more than I possess,” answered the lady. “Oh! my lord, indulge not in such dangerous thoughts: they can but bring destruction on your head. That you do think of them I know too well; for I have of late heard you muttering them in your sleep.”

“Then go to bed, and dream of them yourself, fair lady: you will find them pleasant and enticing,” said the Duke, again laughing.

“It is early, my lord, and the sun has but just set,” answered the Duchess.

“Oh, I forgot – I forgot!” exclaimed her husband. “No matter, you must keep country hours. It is good for the health: so to bed – to bed, and dream of a royal crown.”

“’Tis a dream, my lord, which has cost many a one his head,” said the Duchess, sadly.

The Duke started, and his pallor again returned. “What folly is this?” he exclaimed, angrily. “I spoke but in jest. – Now, obey me, and to bed!”

The duchess turned a look of grief towards her haughty lord; but, accustomed to obey his imperious commands, she retired to her room.

“That woman is not to be trusted,” muttered the Duke, when left alone. “She has neither ambition nor courage. It was folly to speak to her on the subject.”

We constantly observe that weak and vain men have some parasite attached to them, who plays on the former quality by flattering the latter for his own individual interests, at the same time despising and often destroying the very person who supports him, like the noxious weed the tree to which it clings; and such an one had the Duke of Aveiro, in the person of his secretary, master of the household, and chief butler, Captain Policarpio d’Azevedo; for in all those capacities did that worthy gentleman serve him, besides holding a commission in the army. The duke now summoned his confidant, ordering supper to be brought, and having disencumbered himself of his morning costume, and dressed in a light gown, he seated himself at table. Captain Policarpio soon appeared, bearing a dish, which he placed before his master; and then took his station behind his chair, while a troop of other servants followed, with the remainder of the repast, who were ordered forthwith to retire. It may seem strange, but it is a notorious fact, that at the time of which we speak, and even until very lately, commissions in the army were procured by the nobles for their domestics, as a reward for services often of a very doubtful nature. Many of the principal fidalgos retained in their household three or four of these gentry holding the rank of captain, who waited on them at their meals, dressed in their uniforms, and often decked with the Order of Christ; and it was not till the army was remodelled by Lord Beresford, that the abuse was finally abolished. It may be supposed that an army so organised could not be in a very efficient state, or possessed of officers with a very high tone of feeling among them. It also showed the arrogant dispositions of the fidalgos, who thus attempted to assume even more than the state of princes.

“You have now served me faithfully for some years, Policarpio, and it is time your services were more amply rewarded,” began the Duke.

“Oh, your Excellency is too kind, too generous; for when you are served for love, why speak of reward? – the satisfaction of following so good a master is in itself sufficient payment,” answered the Escudeiro, sidling round, so as to come in sight of his lord.

“Because it is my pleasure to repay those who serve me faithfully and well as you have done,” answered the Duke. “It may soon, too, be in my power to reward you far more than I have yet done; for when the master rises, so will those who follow him. Mark that, Policarpio!”

“How can my lord rise higher than he is at present?” said the flatterer, surprised at the question, and eager to learn to what it might further tend. “Is not my lord already one of the greatest men in the kingdom, both in rank and wealth?”

“I was so, truly, under the reign of our late pious king; but things have changed, and a vile upstart has dared to insult my honour; but the day will come, and soon, too, when I may have my full revenge, and he who now triumphs in power shall writhe beneath my feet.”

“May my lord have success in all his wishes, and enjoy full revenge on all his enemies!” answered the Escudeiro.

“Wishes are but of little avail, without action,” observed the Noble; “and much must be accomplished before my hopes are fulfilled.”

“Whatever need be done, I will undertake to serve you, my lord,” answered Captain Policarpio, bowing, and laying his hand to his heart.

“Ah, my friend, you are a man in whom I can place implicit confidence,” said the Duke; “and I know that you would rejoice in my prosperity. What think you, then, if the crown of Portugal were placed on my brow? Would not then my friends have cause to esteem themselves fortunate?”

“Those are already fortunate who serve your Excellency; and no one is more calculated to adorn a throne,” answered the subtle follower, – his own ambition taking fire on the instant at thoughts of his master’s aggrandisement, in the advantages of which he might well expect to participate. “And well do I feel assured that you will not neglect those who have hitherto obeyed you faithfully. Do but point out the means to attain your aims, and no scruples, no obstacles shall deter me from prosecuting them.”

“Well, well, we will talk of that anon, my worthy servant,” answered the Duke. “It is but lately Heaven has thought fit to inspire my heart with such mighty aims; nor have I yet been able to form any plans; but this alone I know, that while that enemy to our holy religion, Sebastiaö Jozé de Carvalho exists, all will be fruitless; and he who would do me service will strike a poniard to his heart. In this will he commit no sin, as I have been assured by Heaven itself, in the sacred person of one of its most devoted ministers.”

“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?”