The Prime Minister

In silent dismay, the festal party stood yet free themselves from harm, though they beheld some of the domestics, who, being on the ground-floor, had rushed from the palace down the street in front, crushed beneath the houses, which fell as they attempted to proceed. The Marquis d’Alorna urged his friends to remain, for several had determined to attempt to escape from the city, the whole of which they expected every instant to behold overwhelmed, when, seeing the fate of their servants, they yielded to his persuasions. Scarcely had they returned to the window, when, with the same dreadful omens, a third shock was felt, though by them but slightly; and, as if struck by a magician’s wand, every remaining wall and tower in the vast arena below, which had before escaped, was thrown prostrate, the waves again returning, and rushing high over the ruins, quickly flowing back to their proper boundaries; but not a minute intervened before another mighty billow followed, and another, and another, until every one felt persuaded the city must be submerged.

The mighty throes of nature appeared at length calmed – the roaring noise had ceased; but the wailing of the bereaved inhabitants, and the shrieks and groans of the dying, filled the air. Two elements had already conspired to the destruction of that once opulent and crowded city; but even yet the spirit of destruction was not satisfied, and scarcely had the survivors begun to recover from their first unnerving panic, when a new foe appeared, and flames rose from every fallen shrine and monastery, and from many of the houses yet standing. So paralysed had become the energies of all, that no one attempted to stop the rapid progress of the devouring element. It at first commenced in different spots, like so many watch-fires lighted by an army encamped on the plain, but, by degrees, it extended on every side, till the greater part of the city was enveloped in one vast conflagration.

“Whither can we fly for safety?” cried several of the party, gazing at each other with horror on their countenances. “At all events, let us quit this devoted city,” all exclaimed. “But is there a road yet left free?” asked some.

“We must not remain here to be burned alive, having escaped the other dangers,” said the young Marquis of Tavora. “My Theresa, I swear to bear you safe, or die with you.” The bride hesitated, but her husband insisted on supporting her. “Now, senhores, I will set the example, if you will follow; and we may find some of our country-houses uninjured.” His opinion was considered the best to follow by the majority.

“I will order my horses and carriage from my palace,” said the Duke of Aveiro; but, when he looked towards his palace, he beheld it one heap of ruins: the proud residence of the Tavoras had shared the same fate, as had those of many other persons present.

The palace of the King, which he and all the royal family had, a few minutes before, so providentially quitted, was overwhelmed in the common destruction; and the Opera-house, a solid and magnificent building, a short time before only finished, had shared the same fate, the side walls remaining alone standing. But this was no time for vain regrets: self-preservation was the first thought of all. The advice of the young marquis was followed, and each of the gentlemen aiding in supporting the ladies, they issued forth from the palace, already deserted by the greater number of the servants, the remainder following them, without leaving one to protect the rich and costly furniture, or even thinking of closing the doors behind them.

The party proceeded onward, keeping as much as possible the higher ground, which had escaped the convulsions which shook the valleys, expecting every moment some fresh outbreak. They had not gone far, when they encountered a fierce-looking band of the vilest rabble of the city, who eyed the rich dresses and the glittering jewels of the ladies, as if longing to possess themselves of them, and stopping, attempted to surround the party, with threatening gestures; but the fidalgos, drawing their swords, cleared a passage through them, receiving only loud jeers and curses as they passed onward. In one place they were obliged to descend the hill for some short distance, where the road was blocked up by the fallen houses, which, as the only course left to them, they must surmount. The scenes which met the eye, it were scarcely possible for ordinary language to describe; men, women, and children, lay, dead or dying, crushed and mangled in every way it were possible to conceive; some of the latter yet crying out, but in vain, for assistance: – their lot might be that of all the party, if they stayed. The only one of the proud fidalgos who really felt for their sufferings, was the young Jozé da Tavora, and he vowed to return and aid them, if possible, when he had conducted his sisters and the rest of his family to a place of safety.

After great labour, they escaped clear of the ruins, and reached some of the highest ground, from whence they could look back on the hapless city. Far as the eye could reach on each side, extending along the banks of the river, was one universal scene of destruction. The greater number of the superb and beautiful churches, the richly endowed monasteries, the public buildings, the palaces, and the dwelling-houses, had, in the course of a few minutes, been either levelled with the ground, or their skeleton walls alone left standing, burying beneath their ruins, as was afterwards ascertained, twenty thousand of the inhabitants. In every direction, also, bright flames arose, wreathing themselves round many buildings which had withstood the shocks; thick clouds of smoke, like twisting pillars, ascending to support the dark canopy which overhung the fatal spot. The river itself presented an almost equally forlorn spectacle; ships were driven wildly in all directions, some dashing against each other, and their crews unable to separate them; others had been dashed to pieces on the opposite shore; some had sunk, some had been carried far up the banks, and were now left dry among the ruined buildings, while the water was covered with wrecks of vessels, beams of timber, and floating bodies. Boats, too, of all shapes and sizes, were floating about, many having been turned keel uppermost by the vast waves. A large concourse of the houseless wretches, whom the catastrophe had driven forth, were now collected on the brow of the hill, bewailing, with groans and tears, their wretched fate: their whole property destroyed, many half clothed, and without a farthing left to purchase the necessaries of life, even if they were to be found; but where was food to be procured for that multitude? Thousands must perish of starvation before it could be distributed.

As the bridal party, after resting from their fatigues on the brow of the hill, were about to proceed to the Quinta belonging to one of their number, where they purposed erecting tents in the open ground, several horsemen were seen approaching. The crowd made way for them; for among the foremost rode the King, and by his side was the towering form of his Minister, Carvalho. No sooner did the former behold Donna Theresa, than his eye lighted up with satisfaction, and, for the moment, forgetful of his city destroyed, and the wretchedness of his people, he threw himself from his horse, which an attendant held, and advanced towards her. While he congratulated her, and those around, on having escaped from destruction, and her husband on his happiness, the Minister, who had also dismounted, stood impatiently by. At last the King recollected himself, and advanced to the brow of the hill. He started back at the view he beheld: he wrung his hands with despair.

“Alas, alas!” he cried, “my beautiful Lisbon! where art thou? It is hopeless to attempt restoring it. Alas! what shall I do?”

“Bury the dead, and take care of the living,” answered the Minister, promptly. “’Tis all that can be done.”

“Carvalho, you are truly fit to govern my people,” exclaimed the King, embracing him.

“Will your Majesty give me full powers to act as I judge fit, without let or hindrance of any sort, and I will undertake to restore order, to supply food, and to rebuild the city.”

“Do all that you will; I place implicit confidence in your judgment, and promise to sanction all the measures you pursue.”

“It is all I ask,” said Carvalho. “I beg your Majesty will return to Belem, to rest after the fatigues you have undergone, and be assured I will not fail in my duty.”

The King, taking his Minister’s advice, rode back to Belem, while Carvalho, throwing himself into his carriage, which had driven up, immediately commenced issuing orders for the regulation of the inhabitants who had been driven from their homes, and, sending messengers in all directions, to desire the farmers at a distance to bring food to the neighbourhood of the city for their use. Every one obeyed him with alacrity; for, on a great emergency, the mob are ever ready to be ruled by any one who can exhibit confidence in himself. But we are forestalling events, and must return to follow the adventures on that dreadful day of several friends in whom we are deeply interested.

Volume Two – Chapter Eleven

We left our good friend Captain Pinto, having just parted from Luis, hurrying off on a visit of charity to the stranger Senhor Mendez. He found him, contrary to his expectations, considerably recovered; the slight attack he had suffered on the previous night, which had alarmed his attendant, having passed off, though he was still unable to leave his couch. Seating himself by his side, the gallant sailor detailed to him various circumstances which had happened in the world since he had last seen him, when their conversation turned upon matters of yet greater interest, and so engrossed were they in their subject, that they did not attend to the first dread signals of approaching confusion. Soon again, the noise grew louder, the house shook, and the upper story, with a loud crash, fell in, destroying several unfortunate beings who were residing there.

“’Tis an earthquake!” exclaimed Captain Pinto. “I thought something was about to happen, though it passed my power of calculation to tell what.”

“Then fly, my friend, and save yourself,” cried Senhor Mendez; “for the whole house must inevitably fall, and will crush you in the ruins.”

“I will see what chance there is first of carrying you on my back,” answered the sailor, coolly walking to the window, and looking into the street, from whence the most piercing shrieks proceeded. “’Twill be wiser to stay where we are; for ’tis raining rather large stones from the house-tops, and numbers of poor wretches, who have fled thither, he crushed beneath them.”

“’Tis a great hazard, but much greater is incurred by remaining here; so, I beseech you, fly, and leave me,” reiterated Senhor Mendez.

“This is no time for jesting,” said the Captain, “or I might suppose you were inclined to be merry. What! do you ask me to leave a brother in danger, when I might save him? No, my friend, I will perish with you, if such is to be our lot, – we are neither of us children to fear death, – or I will preserve your life.”

Saying which, the captain returned to the side of his friend’s couch, and drew the head of it within an alcove formed in the wall. “We shall here be far safer than in the street; for the greater part of the house may fall around without injuring us.”

In vain Senhor Mendez urged his friend to fly: he persisted in remaining by his side, till he found that words were of no avail. “I will go with you, then,” he said. “I have yet strength sufficient to walk to some open space, where the danger will be less.” But the captain was resolute; for he well knew that the sick man could not hurry along at the speed which was requisite, nor climb over the impediments they were certain to encounter.

Three or four minutes passed away in a state of dreadful uncertainty, the gallant sailor sitting calmly down, firmly resolved to await the result. Then came the second and most violent shock: the back part of the house was heard to fall, the shrieks and cries were redoubled, crash after crash succeeded; but still the friends were safe, and the captain firmly kept his post. The third shock, which followed some minutes afterwards, was less violent, though a greater number of buildings, shaken by the former ones, were overturned by it.

The front wall of the house was seen to bulge outward. “Farewell, my friend,” ejaculated Senhor Mendez, seeing what was about to occur. Down fell the wall into the street, while clouds of dust obscured their sight; but the upper rafters of the ceiling still bound the sides of the building together. Both the friends expected instant destruction; minute after minute passed away, but the wall beneath which they were stood firm; till at length, the air becoming more clear, and the shocks scarcely perceptible, they had the satisfaction of wringing each other’s hands as a mark of joy at their mutual preservation, and returning thanks to the great Being who had saved them.

It was in the same way the elegant and beautiful wife of the Minister, the Countess Daun, was preserved. She had not yet risen from her bed when the first shock was felt; but, springing up, she rushed to where her youngest child was sleeping, and with admirable presence of mind and resolution, stood the whole time that the work of destruction was proceeding, within a broad doorway, the front wall of the house being precipitated outward, and the roof falling in and crushing the bed on which she had been sleeping. The rest of the building stood, and she had the happiness, when the convulsions had subsided, of finding her other children unharmed, though she knew not the fate of their father, who had, at an early hour, left his home.

But to return to Captain Pinto. After remaining for a considerable time with his friend in their perilous situation, and perceiving no further shocks, he determined to endeavour to carry him to a place of greater safety. Wrapping him up, therefore, in some clothes which had fortunately escaped, he bore him to the door, standing open, and from thence down the broken steps, and over heaps of ruins, by the back of the house, (for the front was completely blocked up,) and across a small courtyard, where he was obliged to set him down to rest. The wall had been thrown down, exhibiting a street, in a less ruinous state, leading up a steep hill, at the top of which was an open space, surrounded by buildings, which, being only of one story, had resisted the shocks. Thither the captain now led his friend, who insisted on walking, which, with some difficulty, he was able to do, although he sunk down exhausted when he reached the place, where were now assembled a vast concourse of affrighted wretches, with tears and cries mourning the loss of relations and friends, – mothers in tones of misery inquiring for their children, husbands for their wives, sons for their parents and sisters. Here all ranks and conditions were indiscriminately mingled; the proud noble and the loathsome beggar; high dignitaries of the Church in their purple robes; priests who had fled from the altars in their sacerdotal vestments, while celebrating mass; officers and soldiers with their arms thrown aside; nuns and friars in their monastic habits; ladies half-dressed, many without even shoes to protect their feet. Some were rushing to the square, others were flying away, in hopes of finding greater security elsewhere. The greater number were on their knees, offering up broken prayers and cries to Heaven, beating their breasts, with terror in their countenances, and ejaculating, “Mercy! mercy!” Some held clasped in their hands before them crucifixes and images of the saints, which they ever and anon kissed with the most fervent devotion. Some had crawled thither with their limbs broken and their bodies bruised, and were lying, writhing with pain, on the ground, crying out in vain for a drop of water to quench their thirst, many only half clothed, their only consolation, when some of the pious would bring them a cross or an image to kiss, which, with their last gasp, they would press to their lips.

An aged priest was moving among the crowd, with crucifix in hand, exhorting the people to repentance, and endeavouring to offer them every consolation in his power. “Repent, my children; for the wrath of Heaven has descended on you for your sins!” he cried, with tears in his eyes. “You have given yourselves up to every description of wickedness and folly, when you thought none from heaven could see you, and now behold the consequence! Repent, ere it is too late; repent, ere complete destruction comes on you, and your name is erased from the face of the earth! Call loudly on the blessed Virgin; beseech her to intercede for you, and she will hear you; for she loves you as her own children; her heart is tender and compassionate, and she, with sighs and tears, will petition her Son to spare you.”

The people flocked around the venerable man, earnestly entreating his benediction; and happy did those deem themselves who could touch even the hem of his garment.

While Captain Pinto was kneeling by the side of his friend, and supporting his head, a person dripping with water rushed by, gazing anxiously into the faces of all he passed. He turned again, and seeing the captain, came up to him. “Oh, senhor, I am wretched and miserable; for I can nowhere find my young master, and know not what has become of him,” exclaimed Pedro, for he was the speaker. “I have been hurrying all over the city in search of him, and fear much he must have been destroyed. Alas, alas! I am the only one saved out of the house, which has fallen to the ground. Poor Anna and Lucas are both gone. When we rushed out together, I was a little before them, when the front wall fell and crushed them both – alas, alas!”

“Stay for me,” said the Captain. “Assist me to support Senhor Mendez to some place of security, and I will then accompany you to search for your master.”

“Care not for me, my friend; but go at once, and search for the youth,” said Senhor Mendez. “Perhaps even now he is yet alive, beneath some stone, and you may be in time to save him.”

“I will not quit you till you are placed in safety,” answered Captain Pinto; and with the aid of Pedro supporting his friend, they conveyed him through the less ruinous parts of the city towards the house of an acquaintance who possessed a large garden in the outskirts. Their road was beset with danger, from the blocks of stone which continued falling every instant from the tottering walls of the buildings; sometimes they were obliged to climb over the ruins, from whence they could hear the groans of the dying and mangled beings who lay buried beneath, but whom it was impossible to attempt to rescue; here, among the masses of stone, limbs were seen protruding, – there the lower part of the body crushed, while the person was yet alive, hopelessly striving to extricate himself; others, more happy, already lay dead, with huge stones on their breasts: but wherever they passed, cries, and shrieks, and groans assailed their ears.

As they proceeded, Pedro gave an account of his adventures. “Oh, senhor, I thought the end of the world was come,” he said, “and I never expected to see anybody I knew again when first this dreadful earthquake came on. I scarcely know what happened till I found myself in the Square of Saint Paul’s, and the church, and all the buildings round, tumbling about in all directions, and many of the stones almost touching me as they fell; so, not liking that situation, I clambered over the ruins of the church, which had just fallen, crushing hundreds of people beneath it, and reached the broad quay by the river’s side, where I thought I should be safer that anywhere else; but I had not been there more than two minutes when a second shock came on, and I was thrown with my face flat on the ground, and had just risen again, when I heard a general cry that the sea was coming in on us. I looked towards the river, and though there was no wind blowing, I beheld an immense wave, rising like a mountain, of its own accord, come foaming and roaring towards the shore. I cast not another look at it, but ran for my life, regardless of the falling stones in the streets; but the water came faster than I could fly, and had I not caught hold of a beam of timber projecting from some ruins, I should have been swept away, as many other unfortunate people were; for the river immediately returned again to its proper level. Thinking there was as much danger from the sea as from the land, I returned back, by the way I came, to the Square of Saint Paul’s; but, when I had remained there a minute or so, another shock cast down a great number of buildings which had escaped, and the water rushed even there, so I gave up all hopes of being saved. The water, however, again retired, when I bethought me of my master; for, I confess, before that, my only idea was of taking care of myself. I had been running about in every direction, but could meet nobody even who knew him, till I found you on the top of the hill, where I hoped he too might have gone.”

By the time Pedro had concluded his narration, they reached the house of the friend of whom the captain had spoken; and though that had not fallen, the family had deserted it, and were assembled in an open space in the garden, with numerous friends, who had hastened there for safety. They charitably received Senhor Mendez among them, promising to do their best to assist him, when Captain Pinto, without even waiting to take any refreshment, hurried back, followed by Pedro, in search of Luis.

On their way, through the captain’s forethought, they procured two iron bars, to aid them in digging among the ruins, should they, by any chance, discover a clue to where he was last seen, though they entertained but slight hopes of discovering him, either dead or alive, had he not escaped uninjured. The horrors and destruction which they witnessed on their way have never been surpassed, if even equalled, during the annals of the world. In many places, also, the buildings had caught fire, and were blazing up furiously on all sides, so that they were obliged to make wide circuits to avoid them. The only clue which Pedro could afford, was that, when his master had parted from him, he had taken a direction by which he must pass by the Convent of Santa Clara, and the captain being in the secret of his friend’s feelings, concluded that he might very possibly have remained in the neighbourhood, in the faint hopes of seeing his mistress. Though the chance of discovering him was truly desperate, they determined to persevere; and, not being aware of the entire destruction of that convent, they thought that they might possibly hear something of him from some persons in the neighbourhood, as he would be remarked from being on horseback. After great labour they approached the place; but they looked in vain for the convent – not a wall was standing. As they were crossing a street which led to the square in which it had stood, Pedro’s eye was attracted by a dark object beneath the fallen wall of a house; he hastened towards it, and, to his horror, recognised the horse his master had ridden. He wrung his hands in despair, as Captain Pinto came up, pointing to the dead steed, whose head lay crushed by a stone. The captain understood the sign, and joined Pedro in endeavouring to turn over the masses of masonry which thickly covered the ground; the latter, narrowly examining the saddle, to assure himself that he not been mistaken regarding the horse, shook his head mournfully when he found that his fears were too correct. For a long time they plied their task in silence, except when the captain gave some necessary order, expecting every moment to discover the crushed remains of him they sought; for they could scarce indulge a hope that he could by any miracle have escaped. With great labour, and at imminent risk, they cleared away the stones in every direction round the dead horse, the yet standing walls threatening every instant to destroy them, large blocks continually falling with loud crashes near them; but their toil was in vain; and at length, overcome with fatigue, they were compelled, in despair, to desist. Selecting a safe spot, at a distance from the tottering walls, they seated themselves on a mound of ruins, to consult on the next measure to be taken, while they recovered strength to proceed.

They had scarcely been seated there a minute, watching the groups who stood gazing in mute despair, or rushed about with frantic gestures deploring their loss, among the former being a few of the late inmates of the convent, when a person rushed by, his head, sprinkled with white hairs, being uncovered, his dress disordered, with hands outstretched, and eyes wildly gazing on every side. “My child, my child!” he cried, in piercing accents; “has any one beheld my child? I have been deprived of my son, and if now my daughter is torn from me, I am childless!” No one heeded him, for hundreds were uttering the same cries. At a short distance, a woman followed him, with loud shrieks. “My mistress, my young mistress! has any one seen her? Where have they hid her? where, where?” she was exclaiming, and then gave way again to screams and tears.