The 19-year-old Archduchess Leopoldina of Austria was feeling very excited as the ship Dom João VI pulled into Rio harbour. Although she occasionally took a glance at the shore, she spent most of her time gazing at the portrait she had been given.
Eventually the ship dropped anchor, and Leopoldina stood up and stepped onto the shore. They were all there to greet her, as she had expected.
"Your Majesties", she murmured, curtseying to the King and Queen.
"Welcome, daughter-in-law", said João, gallantly helping her up again. "I trust you had a good voyage."
"I did, sire", replied Leopoldina.
"Pedro, meet your bride", commanded João, turning to his right.
Leopoldina turned to face in the same direction. She suddenly felt herself all hot and flushed: Pedro was even more handsome than his portrait, she thought.
Pedro looked at her: she was blonde and blue-eyed, with a light complexion, a plump figure, full lips and cheeks, and a thick neck. She's not ugly, he conceded, but nor is she beautiful. He also felt that she should be wearing a more brightly-coloured dress, and was disappointed that she had no makeup.
Despite this, Pedro smiled and extended his hand: "Welcome to Brazil, Leopoldina", he said.
"Thank you", Leopoldina smiled back at him.
"Hopefully you can knock some sense into Pedro", suggested Carlota Joaquina.
"How was the voyage?", asked Isabel quickly.
"Oh it was fine", said Leopoldina. "Nothing really happened, which I suppose is for the best." She sensed that something strange was happening with the family dynamics. "I'm just happy to be here to get married . . ."
"Didn't your sister marry Bonaparte?", butted in Miguel.
"Well, yes . . ." said Leopoldina somewhat awkwardly.
"Be fair, Miguel, she can't be blamed for that", said Pedro.
"Now, now, Miguel", said João, in the tone of a parent trying to explain to his child that the Sun rises in the east, "alliances are always shifting, there was a time when it looked like Bonaparte had won. But now times have changed, an alliance between our family and the House of Habsburg will help us balance the power of the English in Portugal."
The mention of Napoleon and his wars stirred Leopoldina to ask about something that had been troubling her.
"How are things in this country?", she asked João.
"Oh perfectly fine", said João, who sounded surprised she had even asked the question.
"But wasn't there some trouble earlier this year?", persisted Leopoldina. "In the north-east?"
"In Pernambuco you mean?", said João. "Oh that was nothing, just a few agitators, they were easily dealt with."
"But might there not be more like them?", asked Leopoldina.
"Absolutely not", said João, in a somewhat uncomfortable tone. "But look", he added, pointing, "there are the coaches that will take us to the chapel."
There were indeed three coaches lined up. João and Carlota Joaquina clambered into the lead coach, Pedro and Leopoldina into the middle one, Miguel and Isabel into the one at the rear.
"Your mother seemed rather rude to you", remarked Leopoldina, surprised.
Pedro gave an exasperated sigh.
"Yes", he said. "I hate how she humiliates Papa."
"How does she humiliate him?", asked Leopoldina. What a strange family these Braganzas are, she thought.
"She fucks about with too many men than there are to count, no respect for her wedding vows", said Pedro, his voice rising. "And he just puts up with all that shit, I don't know why, I sure as fuck wouldn't."
Leopoldina winced at Pedro's language. She knew she was expected to remain composed, but she had certainly not expected her handsome prince to be like this.
"And what did she mean by 'knocking sense into you'?", she asked.
"It's because I believe in making changes", said Pedro, with an ever increasing passion. "I believe in liberty, in a limited monarchy . . ."
"God help us, you love the new ideas!", exclaimed Leopoldina, putting her hands to her face.
"So you agree with her?", said Pedro, his voice getting all the more heated.
"Think about what happened in France", said Leopoldina, as calmly as she could manage. "What happened to my great-aunt. They started out talking about liberty, equality and fraternity, but they imprisoned her, they slandered her, they murdered her friends, they took her children away, they made her son tell the most horrible lies about her, and in the end they cut off her head."
Pedro hesitated for a moment after hearing this, and then said, in a more measured tone:
"Well obviously I do not agree with what the French did, but I do think that we need to make changes, to listen to the people, or we won't stay on our thrones for very long. If poor King Louis had done that, then none of those horrible things would have happened."
There was silence, as Leopoldina tried to find a new topic of conversation.
"It's very hot and humid in Brazil, isn't it?", she said at last. "All these flies buzzing around."
"I found it a struggle when we first came here", Pedro assured her, "but you'll soon get used to it."
"I suppose", said Leopoldina, "that there will be plenty for me to do here. Plants, butterflies and minerals for me to study . . ."
"I'm afraid I have no interest in any of those things", said Pedro sheepishly.
Is there anything we have in common, Leopoldina wondered.
"I much prefer horse riding", continued Pedro.
"Oh, I like that as well", said Leopoldina: her relief was audible.
"Well, then", said Pedro, smiling, "we can go for rides together in the Tijuca Forest."
"What an excellent idea", said Leopoldina.
"I also quite like painting, and writing and singing music", said Pedro.
"I could help you with that", promised Leopoldina: her expression now was much brighter, and she was feeling more optimistic.
Just then the carriage came to a halt: they had arrived outside the Royal Chapel. Pedro helped Leopoldina get out of the carriage, and they proceeded to the altar together. There they both pledged to love one another, to be faithful, and to stay married "till death do us part", and then they kissed, with Leopoldina being especially passionate
An excited crowd had gathered in the city square in São Paolo, eagerly looking up at the podium. There stood José Bonifácio de Andrada e Silva, a small, slightly stooped man in his fifties with long grey hair and small eyes.
"Alas", he said, "what a situation this country finds itself in! Censorship, and the strictest of punishments for those who make the slightest criticism of the government. Of course, the government needed to be tough with the Pernambuco traitors, but they do not seem to know the difference between the criticisms of honest men, and the treachery of those who wish to destroy the entire system. For the avoidance of doubt, there is no one in Brazil who loves or is loyal more to His Majesty than I: the problem is his ministers. For who are these men? Why, they are all Portuguese - there is not a man among them who was born in Brazil, who truly knows what is best for this kingdom. If only His Majesty would listen to us Brazilians, if the best of us had ministerial posts, surely he will make great improvements to our condition. And what great changes there could be! We could see humane treatment of the Indians, a gradual end to the evil of the African trade and the curse of Negro slavery, and a redistribution of land belonging to the great estates. I believe that this is possible: do you?"
Loud affirmative cheers followed, and José Bonifácio stepped down from the podium feeling very pleased with himself. He was greeted by his two younger brothers, Antônio Carlos and Martim Francisco, who effusively congratulated him.
In the Porto barracks, the soldiers were all huddled together. Rodrigo Costa had taken the precaution of locking the door, and every so often he broke off from his speech, just to check that no one was coming down the corridor. As he spoke, he had to struggle to avoid raising his voice and hence attracting attention.
"My fellow soldiers of Portugal", said the tall man with unkempt dark hair and hard brown eyes, "who among you can deny the tyranny our poor country labours under? The pitiless cruelty of the Regency, executing those 12 unfortunate men, not even allowing them to appeal to the King for mercy, which is the right of every free-born Portuguese. Not to mention the punishment for any man who dares to raise his voice to call for change. The economic and social devastation caused by the war, which His Majesty, so far away in Brazil, has done nothing about. We groan under the yoke of England's soldiers and trading interests, and Beresford constantly meddles in our politics. And lastly, we have been hit hard by the trading and manufacturing concessions which His Majesty has bestowed upon Brazil: a colony, which should be dominated by us, instead dominates Portugal."
There were angry murmurings from the other soldiers.
"We cannot go on like this", Costa concluded. "Change will have to come."
