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Thomas Stukely, a brave English exile. All behaved valiantly, with the exception of the Portuguese, who were panic-stricken, but gallantry and daring availed them little against overwhelming numbers, the field was covered with dead and dying, and Sebastian's army, with the exception of about fifty men, was exterminated; the king himself fought like a lion, had two horses killed under him, and having seen all his body-guard fall, save Don Nunez de Mascarenhas, fell beneath the sword of Mustapha Pique, the alcayde of the Moorish body-guard. The blow severed Sebastian's right eyebrow, cheek, and lower jaw, and the assailants seeing him whom they most dreaded laid low, hastened away to complete their victory. Sebastian's two intimate friends, Don Christovao de Tavora and the Duque de Aveiro, were said to have fallen in defence of their beloved master, and with them the ruling spirits of the Portuguese army departed, and all was dismay, bootless flight, and slaughter. Meanwhile, the enemy had had their own share of disaster. Numbers were killed and wounded, and Muley Maluc himself had died in the very heat of the battle, his brother Hamet assuming at once the vacant dignities and offices of the deceased. At the close of day, the Moorish army was commanded to bring all the Portuguese prisoners of rank to Hamet's tent, and a select guard was sent, under the command of Mustapha Pique, to the spot where Sebastian had fallen, to bring the dead body, that the fallen nobles might recognize their king. The guard returned, leading a mule, across which was thrown a body said to be that of Sebastian, but so disfigured by innumerable wounds, and the decomposition produced by exposure to the sorching rays of the sun, that recognition might well have seemed impossible. Nevertheless, Don Nunez de Mascarenhas, and five other noble cavaliers, at once attested that it was assuredly the body of Sebastian, and demanded the right to ransom it, but Hamet stipulating in return for the cession of all the Portuguese forts on the coast of Barbary, and the nobles being of course unable to yield so groat a point on their own responsibility, the Xerife j caused the corpse to be enclosed in a chest, sealed with his state signet, and
deposited in an apartment of the Castle of Alcazar.
Nothing could exceed the dismay which spread through all ranks in Portugal when news of the disastrous defeat reached the council. The populace, idolizing Sebastian, mourned him bitterly, and were scarcely to be persuaded of his death; and in addition to his loss, the nation had to deplore the flower of its chivalry. There were few families who had not lost some friend or relative in the terrible slaughter, and through the length and breadth of the land there was mourning and desolation, business was almost entirely suspended, and exaggerated reports lent a new ghastliness to horrors which needed no aggravation.
The churches were crowded to suffocation, and holy men and women were visited by celestial visions, in which they beheld the glorified spirits of the slain ascending to heaven. One important exception there was, not one of all the privileged seers alleged that Sebastian was among the number of those who were now reaping their reward in a better world, and, on the contrary, it was openly averred that Sebastian had not been killed, for (argued the populace) who would have a higher or more conspicuous place in heaven than a king whose dearest object was the glory of the Church? In fact, so dearly did the Portuguese love Sebastian, that it was said by Philip (who had reasons of his own for being angered by the tenacity with which the people clung to the hope that their king still lived), that had an ape come to Lisbon, and said he was Sebastian, he would have been received with acclamations and triumph. Meanwhile, those in authority saw no reason to doubt the fact of the king's death; his body, disfigured as it was, had been identified by Don Nunez de Mascarenhas (who was, however, notoriously in the Spanish interest), and several others, and many averred solemnly that they had seeu him fall beneath such wounds as he could not have survived, and as some guiding hand was needed at the helm of government, the Cardinal-Infant Don Henrique took possession of the crown. Ten days after his accession, a monk, footsore and travelstained, demanded private audience of the king, and although at first denied admittance, theprivilege was finally ceded to his urgency, and his eager assevera- j tion that he had news of import, which it nearly concerned the king to hear. | The notoriety of the Jeromite monastery to which he belonged also helped him to attain his purpose, and the tale he had to tell fully warranted his pertinacity.
The story of Manoel Antonez (for such; was the carnal name of the monk) was this:
Sebastian was not dead, but lay at the monastery to which Manoel belonged, in the vicinity of Lagos, enfeebled by many wounds and great loss of blood, and' stricken to the dust by the humiliation j of his defeat at Alcazar. According to j the narrator, there was every probability that death would speedily end the sufferings of the young monarch, but in the event of his recovery, he wished it to be distinctly understood that he had no [ present intention of reclaiming his crown,! nor did he mean to return to Portugal till, by the gracious favor of Heaven, he should have blotted out the memory of his disastrous defeat by the renown he should achieve in other lands. Don (Jhristovao de Tavora and the Duque de Aveiro, two attached friends of Sebastian, and members of his body-guard, also reported as slain, were with their fallen master, and this recital was substantiated by a written communication from the prior of the monastery certifying the young king's dangerous state. Sebastian's account of his wonderful escape was as follows:
Cut down by Mustapha Pique, and crushed beneath a heap of slain, Sebastian had been at first stunned and senseless. When his faculties returned, he heard the roar of battle still unabated, and the Moorish proclamation of Muley Hamet's succession. When the slaughter and pursuit left the spot where he lay for a time deserted, the king managed to undo his armor, and by slow and painfal efforts crept to some distance, where he concealed himself beneath a heap of dead bodies. There he lay till night, when, stripping a robe and turban from the body of a Moorish officer, he disguised himself, and succeeded in reaching the sea-coast, where, wandering despairingly in the grey dawn, he, to his surprise and delight, encountered the Duque de Avei
ro and Don ChristovaO. Weeping, they embraced, and after some hours of peril they found a man fishing from a boat near the shore; him they bribed, by the gift of a valuable ring worn by the Duque, to put to sea with them. A tempest rose and almost swamped the frail vessel; but after hardships and dangers well-nigh incredible, the unfortunate trio landed on the coast of Algrave, where the king's strength was so much exhausted that he became insensible, and was conveyed by his companions to the monastery, where he was at once recognized, and carefully and reverently attended.
King Henrique, startled and disturbed, sent a secret embassy to Philip II., entreating counsel. Philip, cool and crafty, as well as interested, expressed the most contemptuous disbelief of the tale; but at the same time advised perfect secresy on the subject (to use his ow n words): "The
nle begin to think their mad boy-king •ad; let us not blow the torch." He urged the policy of letting the subject rest as it was, and all the more so, that there was no present need for any examination into the truth or falsehood of the stoiy ; he therefore counselled Don Henrique to take no further notice of the communication which had been made to him, but to allow the so-called Sebastian to set out on his travels, plainly hinting at the possibility that one so headstrong, brave, and rash as the young king, would in all probability never return to renew his claim. Henrique coincided with Philip's opinion. Manoel Antonez was dismissed without receiving any reply to his disclosures, and when Sebastian was sufficiently restored to travel, he, with his two faithful friends, left the hospitable monastery, and quitted Portugal. Henrique, always frail in body, did not long enjoy his sovereign sway, for he died in 1580, having reigned but seventeen months, and, naming no successor, he was also silent as to Manoel Antonez and his mission. So that Philip II., on assuming regal authority in Portugal, boldly solemnized Sebastian's obsequies, and was quite at ease with regard to pretensions so long in abeyance, and which were not likely to be again brought forward. The wandering king, iu the mean time, entered on such a course of travel and adventure as would be wonderful even in these locomotive days ; he traveled over Europe, Asia, and Africa, fought against the Turks under the Persian standard, visited the Grand Llama at Thibet, and Prester John in Ethiopia, encountering danger, fatigue, and privation, not only with indifference, but pleasure. At Alcazar he lost his two faithful friends, and at their death Sebastian retired to a hermitage in the wilds of Georgia, resolving thenceforward to devote himself to prayer and penitence.
In 1597, however, a vision enforced on him that it was the Divine will that he should return to Europe, and landing in Sicily, he made himself known to one Marco Tulfio Catizioni, who became his envoy to noblemen in Portugal, but Catizioni was never heard of more. The Portuguese hated the Spaniards and their rule, and were, moreover, known to cherish such fond recollections of Sebastian, that Philip, or those in his interest, would have been very unwilling that any rumor of Sebastian's being still alive should reach them ; so that it is probable Catizioni, not being cautious enough in the performance of his duty, attracted the jealous and vigilant attention of the wily Spanish king, and paid the penalty of his rashness.
After this succeeded several years of impostures more or less skilful. The Portuguese were befooled in turn by Hernano, a pastry cook of Madrigalez, Pedro Xavila, a shoemaker of Fancoso, who was patronized by the confessor of Queen Catharina, a Dominican monk named Miguel de los Santos. Hernauo and Xavila, together with the Dominican, were hanged by Philip's orders, and as disaffection towards Spain, and rumors of Sebastian being yet alive, gained ground, Philip caused a proclamation to be made, setting forth the undoubted death of the King Don Sebastian, and declaring that any villain who, like Hernano and Xavila, endeavored to work on the weakness of the nation by a pretence that he was the restored monarch, should meet the fate of the above-mentioned impostors, and any man who aided or abetted such imposture should be dealt with as if he weru a principal offender. This proclamation, and the punishments which preceded it, were noised abroad, and the intelligence soon reached the
Jeromite monastery in the Algarves. Manoel Antonez repaired to Lisbon once more, and had audience of the CardinalViceroy Albert, who referred him to Philip. Antonez set out for the Escorial, had one audience of Philip, and was seen no more.
The disappearance of this monk, coupled with that of Catizioni, seems to have intimidated Sebastian, who made no further effort to regain his throne till Philip's death, which took place in 1599, and during this interval the unfortunate exile struggled against indigence and misery sufficient to have quelled all the energy which his former disasters had left him. Robbed and deserted by his servant, cheated and starved by those with whom he lodged, often in rags, and without proper or sufficient food, he never once faltered in his declaration that he, and none other, was Sebastian. At Philip's death he begged his way to Padua, where he lodged with a Cypriot very little richer than himself, and who earned a living by hawking pies in the streets. Some Portuguese then in Padua heard of Sebastian's arrival, and flocked to welcome him, and tender to his acceptance their homage and their worldly goods. The news was sent to Portugal, and received there with transport. Spain, alarmed at the excitement which prevailed, empowered the Spanish ambassador at Venice to demand Sebastian's expulsion from Padua.
The seignory issued an edict, commanding the Podesta of Padua to banish his luckless guest within three days. From Padua, Sebastian went to Venice, and on his arrival there he was seized by the suite of the Spanish ambassador, and would, it is probable, have been effectually silenced, did not the commotion raised by the imprisonment terrify those concerned so much that they did not dare | just then to venture on any severer measures. A Dominican, named Sampayo, published a relation of the facts, which he dedicated to the potentates of Europe, and which created a violent and widespread sensation. Those in the Spanish interest averred that anything written by Sampayo must of necessity be unworthy of credence, as he was a renegade monk from Calabria, and of infamous repute. Whether this charge were true or lalse,
certain it is that Sampayo and his production were the topics of the day; nor did he want powerful supporters, Don ChristovaO of Portugal aud Henri Quatre being at the head of his friends. After much contention, Sampayo was sent under safe-conduct to Lisbon, there to collect such evidence as he could as to the identity of the prisoner; he returned with a paper signed by competent persons, the apostolical notary among the number, which paper specified all Sebastian's peculiarities of person aud mind. Sebastian demanded a public trial, and his right to be heard and compared with the written description. Among the marks mentioned were a large mole or wart on the instep of the right foot, the extraordinary size of the bones of the forearm, a tooth wanting in the lower jaw, and a deformity produced by an in-growing nail 011 the fore-finger of the letl hand. In all these particulars the prisoner exactly corresponded with the description, in height also and in general appearance, but it was objected that the claimant was much darker, both in hair aud complexion, than the real king, and that his face wan so seamed and scarred as to be unrecognizable. To this, Sampayo and his party answered that the change was not greater than that which must inevitably arise from over twenty years spent in burning climates aud from wounds received in many battles; nay, they triumphantly showed the deep cicatrice of the wound indicted by Mustapha Pique, and adduced also, as another proof of identity, that Sebastian, when undergoing a personal examination, had asked whether Pedro Diaz, the court barber, who had extracted the tooth from his jaw, were yet living.
On these facts the Venetian senate deliberated for four days with closed doors, in the presence of the Spanish ambassador and Don Christovaode Portugal, but, though too honorable to falsify their convictions, the Pregadi were too much in fear of Philip III. to dare to declare their real opinion, so that when, at ten o'clock on the night of the fourth day of deliberation, the broken man was brought before his judges, they gave no opinion whatever as to the truth or falsehood of his claims, but merely sentenced him to depart within three days from the Vene
tian territory. Friendless, and thus hunted from place to place, the wreck of a king once again turned his back on his enemies, and, in making his escape, was j seized by Spanish emissaries, and sent to the galleys.
In this degraded and miserable condition he remained for some time, but still I steadily adhering to his first declaration, he aroused the sympathy of his wretched companions, as well as that of his guardians. The Duke and Ducbess of Medina-Sidonia, who had entertained Sebastian with princely magnificence when he was on his way to Barbary, visited the galleys on one occasion, with the view of satisfying themselves whether the wretched slave who had occasioned so much tumult in the kingdom were Sebastian or not They failed to recognize him, which, indeed, was not to be wondered at, and on his being pointed out to them they entered into conversation with him, and were beyond measure amazed bj his recounting many trivial incidents of his visit, which were known but to themselves and Sebastian. As they talked, the duke and duchess began to see remembered traits in the seamed and scarred face before them, and all doubt was erased from their minds when Sebastian suddenly asked the duke if he yet possessed the sword presented him by the young king, then so full of high hopes and sanguine projects. The duke gave private orders to one of his attendants, who brought several swords, which the captive looked at for a moment, then saying, "You have here handsome weapons, but not that which I gave you." It was so. And three or four other swords being brought, the slave selected the right one at once. Then, turning to the duchess, he asked her if she still wore the ring he had given her, and she, imitating her husband's example, caused her jewelcase to be brought, the ring having been previously taken out. Again Sebastian looked, aud again he immediately detected the absence of the jewel in question; but when the duchess caused a baguier to be brought and opened, Sebastian, without hesitation, singled out his gift from the rest. Throughout the interview he spoke to his visitors as any monarch might have done, and when the duke aud duchess left, it was with the
firm belief that the prisoner was indeed the king. They tried by every means in their power to procure his liberty, or even some commutation of his sentence, but the cruel policy of Philip III. refused to hear anything which might tempt him to mercy.
After a time, discontent, and the inclination to rebellion, coupled with extreme deference for Sebastian, became so great in the galleys, that it wasjudged advisable to place the cause of contention in strict confinement in St. Lucar; but here, too, the vraisemblance of his story caused his gaoler to be more indulgent to him than was deemed fitting, and the captive was transferred to a fortress in the very heart of Castile, where, while his rigorous confinement and the harsh brutality of his keepers gave him every inducement to destroy himself, he was carefully supplied with the means of doing so, a stout cord and a dagger being the suggestive companions of his cell. He was also repeatedly urged to declare himself an impostor, and promised wealth and liberty in another land if he would but do so. All snch baits he resisted, declaring, "Yon may tear my body in pieces, bnt my soul is God's; and as it must soon go to him, I will not sully it by a lie. I will never deny my name and lineage."
After miifering all the tortures of severe captivity in Castile for a short time, the popular excitement, which had been quieted for a while, broke out afresh, and to such a height did the rebellious outcry reach, that Philip sent sudden orders for the immediate execution of the prisoner, who was hanged from the battlements of his prison. At this distance of time, and with all the precautions taken by the Spanish government to destroy all testimony which might seem to confirm the prisoner's identity with Sebastian, it is impossible to arrive at any decisive opinion on the subject; but one must inevitably pity the unfortunate who, if he were an impostor, displayed firmness, intelligence, and courage, worthy of a better cause. If indeed he were the real Sebastian, what pity could be sufficient for Mk-ii a life of misery and suffering t
It is in general a mistake, and one that is very fruitful of error, to attempt rigidly to define the different stages in the advancement of the human mind, and to break up its history into eras. For the progress which we trace from age to age is not made by sudden leaps, but is gradual, and the first indications of it are often obscure and subtle; neither can we rightly understand the annals of any period without a considerable knowledge of the times which preceded it
Nevertheless, we think that without exposing ourselves to any serious miaj take we may regard the Elizabethan poetry as a phenomenon isolate! and independent For from the time of Cbaucer and Gower to the latter part of the reign of Henry VIII., there is an entire break in the history of English poetry, and with Surrey and Wystt there began a new school differing from the earlier school I in all its most important features. There | is however so close an alliance in thought 'and manner between the poets of the time of Henry VIII. and those who are strictly called the Elizabethan poets, that we can not consider them apart, but must class them together by virtue of their style, though in chronological arrangement they are separated by a few years.
By the Elizabethan poets, then, we understand that group of writers, of whom, Surrey, Wyatt, and Sackville, were the forerunners, and whose leaders are Spenser, Sidney, Gascoigne, Lodge, and Daniel. We do not here intend to treat of
* 1. The Faerie Queen: The Shepheardes Collender: Together tcith the other Works of Eng. lands Arch Poet, Edm. Spenser: Collected into one Volume and carefully corrected. Printed by H.L. for Mai m.\\ Lownks. 1611.
2. England's Helicon, or the Mvses Harmony. London : Printed for Richard More; and are to be Bould at his Shop in 8. Dunstanes Churchyard. 1614.
3. The Arte of English Poesie, Contriued into three Bookes. Lund, by HiciiARD Field. 1589.
4. The Golden Treasury of the best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English Language. Selected and arranged with Notes. By Francis Turner Palgrave. MacmiUan & Co. 186L