The revolution thus wisely planned, secretly matured, and happily executed, was now complete. Portugal had recovered her independence, and replaced the legitimate descendant and representative of her ancient sovereigns upon the throne. João IV was crowned on the 15th of December, and immediately abolished the heavy taxes imposed by the king of Spain, declaring that, for his own private expenses, he required nothing beyond his patrimonial estates. He summoned the cortes to assemble in January, when the three estates of the kingdom solemnly confirmed his proclamation as king, or acclamation, as the Portuguese term it, probably to express the spontaneous unanimity with which he was chosen. The cortes further acknowledged his eldest son Theodosio as heir-apparent; and voted ample supplies of men and money, to resist the expected Spanish invasion.
In the islands, in the African settlements, with the single exception of Ceuta, which adhered to Spain, and in what remained of Brazil and India, King João was proclaimed, the moment intelligence of the revolution arrived, the Spaniards scarcely anywhere attempting to resist. In Brazil the viceroy communicated the tidings to Count Maurice of Nassau, the governor of the Dutch conquests, who ordered public rejoicings for the emancipation of Portugal; but Nassau refused either to restore his conquests to their legitimate possessor, or even to desist from further aggression. The Dutch governors and admirals in India proved equally unaccommodating.
In Europe, the new king was readily acknowledged by all the states at war with the house of Austria. He concluded treaties of alliance with France, England, Sweden, and even with Holland, colonial affairs being, in the last instance, reserved for future negotiation and adjustment. The pope refused to receive João’s ambassador; and the Spanish ambassador at Rome, with the aid of a band of assassins, attempted his life. Several persons were slain on both sides, though the intended victim escaped.
It is possible that, had Olivares immediately applied himself with vigour to reduce Portugal, unarmed as she then was, with an empty exchequer and an unorganised government, she might have been again subjugated. Fortunately for her the count-duke looked upon the insurrection with a contempt that averted the danger. He announced the event to Philip, by wishing him joy of the forfeiture of the duke of Braganza’s large estates; and, influenced partly by disdain for the Portuguese, partly by excessive exasperation against the Catalans, he positively rejected all advice to send against Portugal the army preparing for Catalonia. He thus gave Portugal all she needed—time; and a very few months saw her in a condition to maintain and defend the independence she had recovered. Olivares was not, indeed, altogether inactive with regard to Portugal and her king, but his measures were rather those of a petty intriguer than of a great statesman. He prevailed upon the emperor, Ferdinand III, to seize and imprison João’s brother Dom Duarte, who was then serving as a general in the imperial armies. He appears likewise to have instigated the plots and conspiracies by which the new Portuguese government was, for a while, considerably disturbed. The first of these was perhaps the most formidable, being conducted by the primate, the inquisitor-general, and many of the chief nobility, including some connected, by blood or marriage, with João. Not less than six hundred persons, of different ranks, are said to have been concerned in the plot, the object of which was to kill the king and submit Portugal again to Spain. Various stories are told as to how the conspiracy was detected. The following seems the most probable. The archbishop, it is said, endeavoured to seduce the Count of Vimisis to join in the scheme, relying on that nobleman’s supposed anger at his ill treatment by the king, who had deprived him of the government of Alemtejo. The prelate had mistaken his man. The count’s loyalty was superior to his resentment, and the aggrieved nobleman immediately revealed the plot to the king.
The whole project was known to the government, and preparations were quietly made for defeating it; a grand review was ordered, and the principal ringleaders were invited to the palace for the occasion. They went fearlessly, were there made prisoners without difficulty, and the number of troops present prevented any rising in the city. The prisoners were tried and convicted; about ten persons were executed; the primate and inquisitor-general were imprisoned for life; and the remainder were pardoned. The duchess of Mantua was sent back to Spain, under the idea that she had fomented the conspiracy; and the only person for whom Dom Duarte might have been exchanged being thus dismissed, the unhappy prince languished out the remainder of his days in prison. The next plot was entirely hatched at Madrid, where Olivares engaged a Portuguese fugitive to murder João. The man made every arrangement, but his courage failed him at sight of his intended victim, and he fled, without perpetrating his meditated crime. By increased bribes, Olivares induced the villain to renew the attempt, when he was betrayed by an accomplice, seized, and executed. A base fraud, contrived to deprive the king of the ablest of his ministers, Lucena, secretary of state, answered better.
The two countries were now decidedly at war, but their languid and desultory hostilities produced little effect beyond harassing the frontiers. Portugal was weak, and thought only of self-defence; Spain was chiefly intent upon chastising the Catalans.b
The Portuguese were at first successful, and after the defeat which Mathias de Albuquerque inflicted on the baron of Molingen at Montijo on May 26th, 1644, felt at their ease, until it became obvious that Mazarin would desert them without compunction if it suited his purpose. The colonial war with Holland deprived them of the assistance of the Dutch in Europe. Mazarin’s refusal to insist on their independence at the congress at Münster, though he protected their envoys against the Spaniards, made them despondent; and a very curious letter of Mazarin’s (October 4th, 1647), offering the crown of Portugal to the duke of Longueville, exhibits at once the feeble character of João IV [who had timidly offered to abdicate], the despair of the Portuguese, and their dependence on France. Mazarin’s desertion did not at first do great harm, for the war between France and Spain continued, though peace was made with the empire.c In the war which, notwithstanding their alliance in Europe, the Portuguese prosecuted against the Dutch in their colonies, they displayed much of their original valour and energy. In Brazil they gradually recovered their lost possessions.b But if the arms of João were successful in Brazil and Africa, in India they met with many reverses. In several engagements the Dutch had the advantage; and, in 1655, they succeeded in wholly expelling the Portuguese from the island of Ceylon.
João died in 1656. His eldest son, Prince Theodosio, preceded him to the tomb. Three other children survived him: (1) Catherine, married to Charles II king of England; (2) the infante Alfonso, who, by the death of Theodosio, was heir to the monarchy; (3) the infante Pedro, who, as we shall soon perceive, succeeded Alfonso.
As the new king was only in his thirteenth year, and had exhibited no proofs of understanding, but a waywardness which would have adorned a savage, the queen-mother was intrusted with the regency.
The administration of this princess—a lady of the house of Guzman, her father being the eighth duke of Medina Sidonia—was distinguished for prudence and spirit. As a Castilian, she was at first obnoxious to the people, who suspected that she must have a leaning towards her own country; but the vigour with which she prepared for war, and the perseverance with which she conducted it, prove that the suspicion was injurious. We cannot advert to the interminable and trifling events which followed, where the combat of a few hundreds is described with as much minuteness as if whole nations had been embattled on each side; where the destruction of a hundred enemies is hailed with as much exultation as if the force of Attila had been annihilated; and the whole campaign was disgraced by the most deplorable imbecility, on the part both of the Portuguese and the Spanish leaders, until the count de Schomberg and Don John of Austria were opposed to each other. After the Peace of the Pyrenees, between France and Spain, when Catalonia was pacified, and the Spanish troops were at liberty to turn their undivided force against Portugal, no doubt was entertained that this country would be subdued. But the queen-regent did not neglect to strengthen the national cause by alliances. Some French, Dutch, and English adventurers, under Schomberg, were obtained; the infanta Catherine, with the fortress of Tangier and a large sum of money, were given to Charles II as the condition of his alliance, and for the aid of some English regiments. Schomberg sustained so much opposition, so much jealousy and ill will from the chiefs associated with him, that he could not prevent Don John from obtaining some rapid successes. Among them was the conquest of Evora. But this advantage was soon neutralised by a signal victory attained over the Castilians; it was still further improved by the recovery of Evora—both monuments of Schomberg’s ability and of English valour. Don John was deprived of the command. This change was fortunate for Portugal; for the new general was so signally defeated at Villaviciosa, that it may be said to have secured the independence of that kingdom. This was the last noted exploit during the reign of Alfonso.
During these hostilities the court of Lisbon exhibited strange scenes. The depraved tastes, the low and profligate habits, the headstrong perversity of the king daily acquired strength, and afforded a melancholy prospect to the nation. He associated with the lowest of the people; he introduced them into his palace; or accompanied them in nocturnal expeditions, undertaken as much for bloodshed as for mere mischief. His band of young companions became the terror of the capital. By his caprices several youths are said to have been tortured to death; and young girls to have suffered a still worse fate: all his diversions partook of his savage and capricious character. So long as he confined them to boxing in the ring, to wrestling, or to breaking the windows by night, the citizens, however scandalised at such conduct, did not much complain; but when their daughters were seduced, or their sons ill used by the royal satellites, even they began to think that a king might do wrong. When common prostitutes were brought to the palace, which was thereby converted into a brothel, their indignation yielded to contempt. The influence of the queen was ineffectual. At length the indignant nobles, at her instigation, forcibly seized two brothers, the vilest and most dangerous of his satellites, and sent them away to Brazil; but other creatures were found to supply their place.
With all his stupidity, the royal brute felt that he was a king; he knew that the time of his majority was long past; he insisted on being invested with the regal authority in all its extent; and, after a struggle between him and his mother, he forced her, in June, 1662, to resign the regency. The removal of so salutary a rein on his excesses could not fail to make things worse. The licentious youths with whom he surrounded himself disgusted by their conduct the oldest servants of the crown, and forced them to retreat from their public offices. His own extravagances increased. His satellites paraded the streets, or scoured the highways, night and day; they not unfrequently returned with plunder, oftener still with their swords stained with blood. We are told that he even charged the people in a public procession; that he instigated the assassination of some obnoxious nobles; that, to show his contempt of a comet which was believed to be the forerunner of some great change, he fired a pistol at it, at the same time reviling it with the lowest terms of scurrility.
It was hoped that, if a wife were procured him, he would, at least, refrain from some excesses; and one was found in Mademoiselle d’Aumale, daughter of the duke of Nemours. But he treated his beautiful queen with open neglect; he disregarded alike her entreaties, her tears, and her remonstrances; nor did the death of his mother make the slightest change in his conduct.
But the strangest part of these transactions remains to be told. That the queen-mother had resigned her authority with reluctance is certain; that she had entertained thoughts of procuring the transfer of the sceptre from Alfonso to Pedro is confirmed by the general tenor of her actions. It is no less true that Pedro aspired to supplant his brother; that he intrigued with the nobles and prelates for that end; and that, by the outward decorum of his conduct, by a scrupulous regard to the decencies of his station, he laboured to make the contrast between himself and the king too marked to be overlooked. Equally certain it is that no one observed this contrast more narrowly than the youthful queen, who soon formed a suspicious connection with the infante. That their plans for the future were soon arranged, is evident enough from the sequel. When Pedro’s plans were matured, when he had interested a considerable party in his behalf, he sought an open rupture—and he had causes enough—with the king. In October, 1667, a furious mob, which had been gained by his emissaries, conducted him to the palace, insisting that justice should be done him on his enemies. On the 21st of November, the queen hastily left the palace, and retired to the convent of St. Francis. Her pretext was the ill-usage she hourly received from Alfonso. The true reason for so extraordinary a step appeared in a letter in which, after adverting to her domestic sorrows, she surprised the public by saying that her marriage was, from its origin, null; that it had never been consummated.
The perusal of this extraordinary letter filled Alfonso with indignant wonder. He hastened to the convent, and on being refused admission, he ordered the gates to be broken; but his brother, arriving with an escort, persuaded or compelled him to depart. No sooner was he retired, than the infante had a long interview with her. The subject of their conversation appeared from a letter to the chapter of Lisbon, which contained the same charge of impotence against the king. The counsellors of state forced him to sign an act of renunciation. He was then arrested, and sentenced to perpetual confinement, but with permission to enjoy the comforts of life. In conclusion, Pedro was proclaimed regent; and, in that character, was recognised by an assembly of the states. By his creatures, the same states were persuaded to petition the queen, who no longer showed any inclination to leave the kingdom, that she would accept the hand of so deserving a prince. She required no solicitation. Her uncle the cardinal Vendôme, anxious that his family should contain a queen, expedited it without delay. The marriage was celebrated in haste, lest a papal inhibition should arrive, and blast the fruit of so many intrigues. Subsequently, an application was made to the pope, to confirm the dispensation of the cardinal; and Clement, who saw that the mischief was done, admitted the allegation of impotence, and despatched the brief of confirmation.
Thus concluded one of the most extraordinary scenes that has ever been exhibited to the eyes of mankind—extraordinary alike for effrontery and duplicity. However the constitution of Alfonso might have been impaired by debauchery, he was not impotent. No one labouring under such a disability would have been at the trouble either of visiting the public stews or of introducing women of loose morals into the palace. But, without insisting on this presumptive evidence, we are positively informed that Alfonso had one child at least by his favourite mistress. If the debitum conjugale had never been paid, why should a circumstance so important to the kingdom be concealed during sixteen months? Why should it be mentioned, for the first time, when Pedro was ready to usurp the crown? The whole proceeding is explicable enough. The queen felt that she was neglected; she admired the infante, and was gained by him as an accessory to the long meditated plot of dethroning the king. The means adopted by these paramours were even more daring, more indicative of the contempt with which they regarded public opinion, than the end itself.
Before this iniquitous consummation of ambition and lust, Pedro had the glory of ending the long dispute with Spain. Both nations were exhausted by their past exertions, and both naturally inclined for peace. It was concluded at Lisbon, under the mediation of Charles II, king of England. By it all conquests made by either party were restored, and the subjects of each nation admitted to the privileges enjoyed by the most favoured people. The arms of Portugal were immediately erased from the escutcheon of the Spanish monarchy. This was almost the only transaction of moment in which the regent was engaged, from his marriage to the death of Alfonso. There was, indeed, a conspiracy formed to restore that prince; but it was easily detected and its authors punished. That unfortunate monarch was first removed to the Azores; and then transferred to the palace of Cintra, where, in 1683, he ended his days. The same year was fatal to the queen, who left no other issue than a daughter, the infanta Isabella.
On the death of Alfonso, the coronation of the new king was celebrated with the usual pomp and circumstance. His reign, like his regency, was passed in profound peace, and consequently furnishes no materials for history, until the celebrated War of the Spanish Succession, following the demise of Charles II, called him into the field. The motives which induced him to take part with the allies against Philip V have been already explained, and the chief events of the war have been related in the history of Spain.[173]
During the reigns of Alfonso and Pedro, the affairs of India continually declined. The Dutch, the most persevering enemies that ever assailed the Portuguese empire in the East, not satisfied with the richest settlements in Malacca and in the India islands, prepared to expel the subjects of his most faithful majesty from the continent. The latter were insulted, sometimes defeated, within sight of Goa. In 1660, they blockaded the bar of Goa, thereby preventing the annual sailing of merchandise for Lisbon. Bombay was delivered to the English. In 1665, Diu was plundered by the Mohammedans, three thousand of the inhabitants being led into hopeless captivity, the rest put to the sword. Finally, Cochin was reduced by the king of Travancore, and the Portuguese empire in India was confined to Goa, Diu, and a few commercial settlements on the coast of Malabar and in the islands. The African and Brazilian possessions continued unimpaired.
By his second queen, a princess of Bavaria, Pedro had several children, most of whom, however, died either in infancy or without issue. He was succeeded, in 1706, by the infante João, born in 1688.e
Dom Pedro’s successor was but eighteen years of age. Lacking in experience and doubtless desirous of equalling his father’s glory, he did not know how to get out of the dangerous political course which Portugal was pursuing and he continued to take part in the war of succession to the sole profit of England and Holland. This persistence was all the more deplorable as the success of the allies in Spain was not long maintained. Scarcely had João V become king when Philip V returned to Madrid in the midst of enthusiastic acclamations and the duke of Berwick achieved over the combined forces of De las Minas and Galway the brilliant victory of Almansa (April 25th, 1707). The Portuguese, against whom the efforts of the Spanish and French were especially directed, lost thirteen regiments and they were unable to hold the positions they had taken. Far from profiting by the hard lesson that fortune had administered to him, João V lost no time in rebinding through marriage the political alliances that his father had adopted; he married Maria Anna of Austria, sister of the emperor Joseph I and of the archduke Charles, Philip V’s rival, and celebrated this brilliant union with the most magnificent fêtes that Portugal had ever seen.
All this did not prevent Philip’s taking each day a more marked advantage. Victor at Badajoz, victor at Villaviciosa, he invaded Portugal in turn; it became evident that whatever else might happen this prince would at least keep the crown of Castile. The victory of the allies at Saragossa completely disappeared amid all these disasters. But what was much more unfortunate still was that Portugal nearly lost Brazil, which was the sole possession that would permit her henceforth to cut some sort of figure in the world. It was the very moment when new explorers had just discovered the opulent mines of Goyaz and the Matto-Grosso that a Spanish-French fleet under the command of the valiant Duguay-Trouin put in an appearance. Powerful with its seven vessels and eight frigates it had no difficulty in forcing the channel to Rio de Janeiro, and after it had landed its forces there was no resistance (September 14th, 1711). Soldiers and inhabitants quickly evacuated the town, taking refuge with their valuables in the neighbouring mountains. Brazil’s fate would doubtless have been settled there and then had it not been for the grave troubles with which France was at that time overwhelmed, and especially for the small number of soldiers assigned to the expedition. Duguay-Trouin had to content himself with sacking Rio de Janeiro and making it pay a ransom of 600,000 cruzados. Instead of a conqueror he was only a devastator, but he went far towards making the Portuguese appreciate all the advantages of the English alliance, and brought back to exhausted France a booty of over twenty-five millions of francs.
The Portuguese, however, were still more convinced by the events which were taking place at the same time in Europe. In taking part in the prolonged quarrels of which Charles II’s succession had been the source, England had but a single aim in view—to inflame the whole of western Europe and take advantage of the conflagration to obtain ascendency over the seas. Just as soon as she had obtained her end by destroying the remains of the French and Spanish navy, by reducing Portugal to the state of a colony, and by making herself sure of the Mediterranean by the rascally occupation of Gibraltar and Minorca, then, having no further interest in continuing the war, she withdrew and was the first to accept Louis XIV’s proposals. But what could the powerless João V do without her? He had to come to terms, or be conquered; and lost in negotiating all the fine hopes that the allies had held before his eyes. The Peace of 1713 with France simply stipulated that the most Christian king renounce all claims upon Brazil, that King Philip V would arrange matters in a manner agreeable to Portugal, and that England would be responsible for the carrying out of the agreed-upon conditions. That of February 6th, 1715, with Philip V gave the territory and colony of Colonia del Sacramento to Portugal in exchange for Albuquerque which had been taken from Castile. And so all the money spent and all the blood spilled, devoted, after all, to establishing England’s supremacy, had brought nothing to Portugal but an impoverished and subdued kingdom, unless we may consider as sufficient consolation João V’s honour of being mentioned first in the text of the treaty.
Scarcely had João emerged from this terrible twelve years’ struggle when the Venetians asked his assistance against the Ottomans. Too devout to reject such a petition, he hastened to send them the count of Rio Grande and a few ships, without any other object than that of sustaining the Christians against the infidels. But in spite of all the great questions over which Europe was still divided, this war was henceforth the only war into which he let himself be dragged. On the contrary he took care to maintain the friendliest relations with Castile, which he should never have ceased to do. He made this union the closer by two marriages—that of his eldest son José, prince of Brazil, with Doña Maria Anna Victoria, daughter of Philip V; and that of the infanta Maria Barbara with the prince of the Asturias (1728). Perhaps we may even reproach João V with having carried his desire to oblige Spain too far by giving up the Philippines and by exchanging the rich colony of Colonia del Sacramento, with all the northern region of La Plata, for a few small colonies in Paraguay, between the Ibicuhy and the Uruguay, which the Jesuits, possessors of all the territory, did not wish to give up (1750). But by this time João V was dying, and the Recollet friar, Gaspard de Incarnação, who ruled in his name, was solely responsible for this foolish concession.
At peace with Europe and patronised by England, did not João V employ at least a portion of the daily increasing wealth which Brazil poured into his hands to maintain the few colonies which still remained to him in the Indies? He did nothing of the kind; and while the Mahrattas drove the Portuguese from Sandomir, Salsette, Thana, Barcain, Senapour, and Karanja, the Dutch, English, and French had every reason to claim the domination of the Orient. In a short time the viceroys of the Indies, no longer daring to inhabit the ancient palace of the Albuquerques and the Castros, lived modestly in the small village of Panjim. What had become of magnificent Goa, and Diu, and Calicut, queen of Malabar? They were already nothing but ruins; a century had sufficed to reduce a powerful empire to a pile of rubbish.
Far from devoting to useful enterprise the riches which fortune showered upon him, João V let the navy, army, and administration constantly decline. He seemed to have no other aim than to emulate the pomp of Louis XIV; but he forgot that Louis reigned over France and that the latter found all the elements of the luxury he displayed in the industry of the kingdom, while Portugal could not obtain them except by exhausting herself to the profit of foreigners. Such was João V’s generosity with his courtiers, his mistresses, his feasts, and his buildings that, with the great nobles following his example, poverty soon arrived, in spite of America. It has been estimated that between 1699 and 1756 there came from Brazil 2,400,000,000 francs, and that Portugal retained but a very small portion. All the rest, that is to say nearly nine-tenths, went to England, either in exchange for merchandise or as the price of transporting the metal, which became hers after all.
It was not sufficient that England should levy such a tribute on Portuguese indolence. Not less zealous for his religious practices than for his pleasures, João V had the idea of establishing a patriarchal legate at Lisbon, and before Rome could agree to this he had to expend enormous sums. He did the same in order that Portugal might possess under this legate a Latin church almost the equal of St. Peter’s, and this contained not less than sixty-six mitred canons at a salary of 5,000 cruzados each. Add to this the construction of the magnificent monastery of Mafra for three hundred monks, with its park twelve miles in length, the gorgeous procession, the collections of pious books to which the public was not allowed access, and what is worse still, the auto-da-fé which the Inquisition made him celebrate with great pomp, and we can realise that he spent on all this appearance of religion at least 500,000,000 francs. It is true that he was recompensed. Grateful Rome granted him the title of “most faithful king” in 1748.
While such follies are discrediting the reign, is it permissible to rehabilitate a prince because he founded a Portuguese academy or an academy of history—because he softened the national manners almost to enervation—because he introduced into his country French customs and Italian music in place of a real civilisation whose establishment the Inquisition would however never have tolerated? But how explain, on the other hand, that far from cursing João V’s memory, the Portuguese have always held it in great veneration? It was because the riches of Brazil struck them all with the same giddiness as they struck him, because his ostentatious piety conformed to the tastes of the nation, because if he fought with his ministers and occupied himself more with theological disputes than with government, he was accessible and kind to all his subjects, and could use those happy words which too often take the place of real merit.
The esteem given João V by Portugal seems to us to be his own condemnation. What is war without greatness, peace without prosperity, devotion without piety? And in these words we may sum up João’s reign. We shall not dwell on the final extinction of the ancient Portuguese liberties whose form had at least survived. João V never convoked the cortes until public tranquillity was threatened with some blow, and yet no one protested. The régime of the Inquisition had produced its usual effect.
The last years of João V were as sad as the others had been brilliant. Stricken with paralysis in 1744, he found a little relief in the baths of Caldas da Raiñha, but this treatment soon ceased to benefit him, and he could do nothing put pass the rest of his existence far from the luxury and fêtes of which he had been so fond. Thenceforth the king of Portugal was the Recollet Gaspard, who, with even less ability in the art of government than his master, had at least the merit of proving himself more economical. For some time João had contracted the costly habit of having masses for all the Portuguese of whose deaths he could learn. Gaspard took care to deceive him as to the deaths which occurred in Lisbon, lest he should send, as they said, all the living to hell in getting the dead out of purgatory.f
João died in July, 1750. By his queen, Maria Anna of Austria, João had a numerous issue; but three children only survived him—Maria Barbara, queen of Spain, his successor, José, and the infante Dom Pedro.e
On September 7th, 1750, the new king was proclaimed with all the usual pomp and circumstance. He found the treasury empty, the army existing in name only; but, as someone has remarked with a certain semblance of accuracy, he found the popular instincts directed towards commerce, and a remarkable readiness to enter on a path of ameliorated industries. But none the less the Methuen Treaty was at that time manifesting all its consequences, and laid a spell of inertia on the most active minds, even on those who, by their continual contact with a commercial and manufacturing nation, were filled with dreams for their country of improvements which only a strong and independent genius could bring about.
At this epoch Brazil had become an inexhaustible resource for the mother-country in all financial embarrassments. December, 1750, witnessed the arrival at Lisbon of the fleet, richly loaded, on which so many hopes were built each succeeding year. From a generous impulse, for which the colonies were most grateful to him, one of the new king’s first acts was aimed at the political betterment of the rich province of Minas from which he drew so much of his wealth; he abolished the poll-tax, which was paid as a right of seigniory, and in 1751 he established at Rio de Janeiro a tribunal of relaçao [i.e., a court of appeal], a real and well-felt advantage for that country, since in former times trials of any importance lasted an eternity, being brought to Lisbon for judgment.
But with the question of important improvements, and the directing of wide measures, the name of one other than the reigning sovereign flows involuntarily from the historian’s pen—that of the great statesman Pombal, who gave his country so mighty an impulse. To José belongs the supreme merit of discerning the merits of this extraordinary man. There is perhaps something of injustice in comparing the king with Louis XIII, as is so frequently done; for he had at all events sufficient firmness of character always to approve the acts of the man he had willingly chosen. On January 19th, 1729, José I had married (during his father’s lifetime) Doña Maria Anna Victoria, daughter of Philip V and Elizabeth Farnese. This lady should have married Louis XV and had never become wholly resigned to the bitterness of her memories. In politics she was not only always opposed to France, but, later, she openly posed as a formidable enemy to the powerful man to whose hands her royal husband had intrusted the destinies of the nation.g
Sebastião José de Carvalho e Mello,[174] who was created count of Oeyras and afterwards marquis of Pombal, whom we shall hereafter call by the last and shortest name, had been introduced to King João V, who was a person of a sickly constitution; he however made himself intolerable to the king by his incessant fertility in plans and projects. In order to remove him from the court, he was first sent on some trifling affairs to London, and secondly upon business of graver importance to Vienna. In these cities he became acquainted with the French philosophy and the new theories of political economy and statecraft, and convinced that the Jesuits, who exercised unlimited dominion in Portugal, and had the whole system of instruction completely in their hands, had kept his countrymen more than a century behind the spirit of the age. The queen of Portugal, who was an Austrian princess, had the management of the government during the very frequent attacks of absence of mind and incapacity under which her husband laboured. Pombal had been employed by her in the execution of affairs of various kinds in Vienna, and he no sooner married her friend the countess Daun, than she resolved to recall him from his embassy and to take him into the ministry in Lisbon.
King João died immediately after the arrival of Pombal in Lisbon, and it was very easy for Pombal to make himself indispensable. The young king was of an indolent character, shrunk from every effort, was licentious and extravagant, but entertained a childish fear of his wife, from whom he carefully concealed his amours. He was as superstitious as the humblest peasant of his superstitious nation, he was as cowardly as Pombal was courageous, and the latter kept him in such a continual state of suspicion and anxiety that the king from fear resigned everything into his hands in order to secure his favour and protection.
Wraxall,i who only first became acquainted with Pombal when he was seventy years of age, speaks of his features, his giant build, and his language as characteristic of all that energy which he had exhibited for twenty-seven years in the public administration; it would appear therefore as if nature had from the first designed him for a reformer and dictator. In order to lessen and correct our ideas of the cruelties which he practised in his reforms, we must remember that in Asia, Africa, and southern Europe our cold and tedious morality is completely unknown, and compensated for by warm feelings of religion, which take heaven by violence; and, moreover, no one except a monarchical Danton or Robespierre would have been able to snatch Portugal from its state of powerless subjection to the institutions of the Middle Ages. Pombal appeared to have been raised up to organise a monarchical system of terror, and he alone could have succeeded in bringing Portugal nearer to the other states of Europe and to the spirit of the new age.
The first contest of the minister after he was firmly seated in his position was that with the order of Jesuits. The Jesuits were regarded by him as a dangerous independent aristocracy, and as the guardians of the secrets of the confessional of almost all the princes and nobles of Europe, far beyond the reach of any secular arm. In Portugal, in particular, the order, by the possession and use of great wealth acquired by trade, and of a flourishing colony, threatened the complete oppression of the state, which was entirely in its power. Shortly before Pombal became minister the order of the Jesuits had obtained a temporal dominion in Uruguay in America, secured for themselves all the privileges of government and legislation, and threatened to draw the whole trade of private individuals to themselves by various speculations and large commercial adventures in the Antilles and the European ports. The order was in ill-repute for its casuistry, by virtue of which regicide and bankruptcy might be equally justified, as Arnauld and Pascal had proved in the preceding century. The danger of allowing such an order first to sustain speculators by its credit and then to allow them to fail, had been so clearly proved in Pombal’s time in the superior courts in France, that the parliament at that time zealously pressed for the abolition of the order. The pope himself had issued very severe orders in 1741 against the practices of slave-dealing, usury, and banking, in which the order had engaged. In February, 1741, Benedict XIV published a bull, by which, without naming the Jesuits in particular, all orders whatsoever and all ecclesiastics were strictly forbidden to engage in any description of trade or commerce, to exercise any temporal authority, or to interfere with the sale or purchase of the converts. This bull failed in producing its intended effect, and in December another was issued expressly against the Jesuits. The latter, entitled Immensa pastorum, which is remarkable as being the first manifesto published by the pope against the order of Jesuits, was particularly directed against their conduct in their missions in Asia and Africa, in Brazil and Paraguay.
The bold spirit of usurpation which the Jesuits continued to display, notwithstanding the pope’s first bull, after having caused the Immensa pastorum to be launched against them, urged Pombal also to the adoption of his first strong measures against this dangerous order. In their missions in Paraguay, both in the portions which acknowledged Portugal as their sovereign state as well as those which acknowledged the supremacy of Spain, they had contrived to obtain complete possession of the secular administration, by having secured for themselves the most extraordinary privileges from the kings and queens of these nations, who were entirely subject to their guidance and dominion. No Spaniard or Portuguese was suffered to set foot in their missions without their special permission. The pope in his bull, under threats of the greater excommunication, forbade all and each, and the Jesuits expressly by name, to make slaves of the Indians, to sell, exchange, or make presents of them, to separate them from their wives and children, to despoil them of their property, or to injure or molest them in any other way whatsoever.
Later, Spain ceded the district of Puy in Galicia and the seven missions of the Jesuits in Paraguay, and obtained in return Colonia del Sacramento. This exchange led to disputes with the Jesuits, and finally even gave rise to military expeditions on the part of the Spaniards and Portuguese against the Indians: the Indians themselves were highly dissatisfied with the cession of Paraguay to Portugal. The active resistance of the Indians led the Spaniards and Portuguese to meet force by force, and a formal contest arose, which led to no very conclusive or satisfactory results as long as the matter was wholly left to the three thousand Spaniards and the thousand Portuguese who had been sent to aid and carry into effect the objects of the commissioners; in the year 1753 Pombal adopted different measures. He sent a considerable army into the district, gave the command of it to his brother, Francisco Xavier Mendoza, conferred upon him the office of governor of the province, and intrusted him secretly with full power to destroy and forever put an end to the secular dominion of the Jesuits in this territory. The last part of the commission was kept a profound secret, and Pombal also delayed its execution till the death of the dowager queen of Portugal, who was a blindly devoted adherent to the order. These severe measures against the Jesuits were first carried fully into operation in the year 1755, in which the capital of Portugal was visited and almost destroyed by one of the most dreadful earthquakes which has ever occurred in Europe.h
Denisg quotes a letter from Pedegache, who was an eye-witness of the horror: “On the 1st of November, 1755, with a quiet atmosphere and a very clear sky, the earth shook, but so slightly that everyone fancied the vibration was due to some rapidly moving vehicle. This first trembling lasted two minutes; after two minutes’ interval there was a repetition of the trembling, but so violent a one that the greater number of the houses began to crack and to fall down: this second trembling continued for upwards of ten minutes. By that time the dust was so great as to obscure the sun. Then came a shock so awful that the houses which were still standing fell with a deafening crash. It seemed as if the earth were returning to chaos. The tears and cries of the living, the sighs and groans of the dying, the shuddering of the earth, the total darkness, all added to the horror of the scene. But at last, after twenty minutes, all became quiet. One thought then filled every mind—flight, and a refuge in the country. But our cup of misery was not yet full. Scarcely had we begun to breathe again when fire broke out in different parts of the town.[175] The wind, which was very boisterous, fanned the flames and left no room for hope.
“Possibly something might have been done to check the fire had not the town been threatened with wide submergence by the sea; at all events the terrified inhabitants easily persuaded themselves that this danger was in store for them, seeing waves breaking furiously over places far removed from the shore. Several people believing that they would find a certain amount of safety on the water ventured on it; but the waves drove the vessels on shore, grinding them one against another, then drawing them seawards with merciless violence as though they would swallow them and the miserable beings clinging to them.
“During all these days our terror has never abated, for the shocks are incessant. On Friday, November 7th, at five o’clock in the morning, there was a shock so violent we imagined our troubles were about to recommence; but happily it was followed by no disastrous consequences. The movement was regular, like that of a rolling vessel. What caused such devastation on the first day was that all the movements were contrary and so exactly opposed to each other that the walls parted with the utmost facility. I have noticed that the strongest shocks are always at daybreak. They say that the sea came up nine feet higher than the highest tide ever remembered in Portugal. On Sunday morning, November 2nd, I saw with the utmost amazement the Tagus, which in some reaches is more than two leagues wide, almost dried up on the city side; the other side was a feeble little stream through which one could see the bed. Almost the whole of Portugal has felt this scourge; the kingdom of Algarve, Santarem, Setubal, Oporto, Mafra, Obidos, Castanheira—indeed all the towns within twenty leagues are destroyed. I write to you from the depths of the country, for there is not a habitable house left. Lisbon has vanished!”
Everyone, from the monarch down to the meanest beggar, had something to deplore. In the town of Lisbon alone thirty thousand persons had perished, and, if one can trust the calculations which were made later, the losses in valuable furniture and in hard cash reached the enormous total of £91,360,000 or $456,800,000. In short, such were the results of this terrible catastrophe that more than twenty years after Dumouriezk was still able to say: “Lisbon is an appalling agglomeration of overturned palaces, burned churches, of rubbish such as one sees when a fortification has been blown up. In many places one walks over the sites of houses, in streets contrived on the rubbish thrown up on either side to allow of roadway being made. Here and there one sees reared up isolated houses, and ruins as grotesque, as grimly beautiful, as the remains of Greek and Roman buildings.”g