The Battle of the Braganzas Volume II: The Fall Out - Chapter 6 Succession Issues

João and Isabel had just finished a very pleasant dinner at the Hieronymites Monastery. They stood up from the table, profusely thanking their hosts, who in turn replied that there was no greater honour than dining with the King. They left the monastery, smiling and waving at the monks. But as soon as the doors were closed, João turned to his daughter: his expression was grave.

"I don't feel well", he said. "There's a funny feeling in my stomach."

"Why?", asked Isabel. "What could have happened?"

"I don't know", said João. "Maybe the food was a bit too rich, or maybe I ate a bit too much. But, anyway, let's get back to the palace, and see if I feel better then."

They climbed into the carriage that would take them back to Bemposta Palace. Suddenly, João vomited quite violently: the servant who was with them looked scandalised, Isabel looked alarmed.

"Are you all right, Papa?", she asked, more as a desperate attempt to reassure herself than in expectation of a positive answer.

"I have convulsions in my stomach", said João, "but I'm sure I'll be all right."

"I'm not sure about that", Isabel admitted. "This is serious."

She could see that her father's face looked deathly pale. An ominous feeling began to grow within her, despite her best efforts to dismiss it.

"You're only 59", she pointed out, "and you've always been in good health. So how . . ."

But before she could finish, João vomited again, and did so several times before reaching the palace. He then staggered out of the coach, aided by Isabel, who was now doing her best not to panic. Into the palace they went, where João vomited in front of the all the palace staff, who all turned their faces away in disgust and pity. Isabel had the servants take him to his bed, where she sat beside him, her face full of worry. He continued to vomit periodically, and he wheezed frequently. Isabel fervently prayed to God for her father's recovery.

By the next day, word had got round that the King was seriously ill. Palmela came to his bedside, with concern etched on his face.

"Your Majesty", he said, "I am very sorry to hear of your sad condition. Are you any better today?"

"I feel about the same as yesterday", groaned João. "But I think I'll be all right."

"May that be God's will", replied Palmela, but he did not feel so hopeful. He looks absolutely terrible, Palmela thought, he'll do well to survive this. And if the worst comes to the worst, the heir to the throne is an ocean away, and the younger son is hellbent of the complete extirpation of liberty in this country. Will Portugal be ruled by Brazil? Will there be civil war? Will all hope for a future based on liberty be crushed?

Two days passed, and João remained confined to his bed: Isabel remained by his side at all times. He seemed to be breathing a little easier now, she thought.

"Are you feeling better, now, Papa?", she asked hopefully.

"I don't know", groaned João. "I'm not getting any worse, but my stomach still doesn't feel right."

"Have you any idea what happened to you?", inquired Isabel. "I know Mama is saying that the Freemasons poisoned you, but . . ."

"Maybe . . . maybe", murmured João. "But what concerns me more is that she hasn't bothered to visit me."

There was an awkward silence, before Isabel spoke again:

"Do you think you will get better, Papa?"

"Well", said João, "just in case, you know . . . you shall be the Regent of Portugal and the Algarves until the legitimate heir shall return to the Kingdom."

He smiled at her, but Isabel did not look at all comforted by this announcement, and hastily began chatting about more cheerful matters.

After another three nights, João once again started coughing and wheezing violently. Isabel gripped his hand tightly. This is the end, she thought: instinctively she knew it.

"Farewell, Isabel", breathed João, his voice barely audible. "I am soon to meet my Maker."

Isabel bowed her head, and did not reply.

"I know you will be a good regent", said João, "and I hope that Pedro will once again unite this country with Brazil. Goodbye, my dearest daughter."

His breathing stopped, his head fell back on his pillow, and the hand that Isabel was holding became clammy. Isabel threw herself on her father's body and sobbed desperately.

"Papa . . . papa . . .", she cried.

Isabel stopped crying after about 10 minutes, and willed herself to stand upright. I have duties that must be attended to, she reminded herself. She gave orders for a proclamation to be read all over the country:

"Whereas it has pleased the Lord to call away His Majesty Dom João VI, of blessed and glorious memory, the crown of these kingdoms is now come to His Imperial Majesty Dom Pedro I, Emperor of Brazil, the true and undoubted heir to the throne; we therefore proclaim that the said Emperor of Brazil is now, by the demise of our late King, become His Imperial and Royal Majesty Dom Pedro IV, King of Portugal and the Algarves, to whom we all owe dutiful obedience. Long live the King!"

Isabel also summoned Palmela, and instructed him to lead a delegation to Brazil to inform Pedro of the news.

In Porto, Costa was walking through the street when he heard the proclamation. He had been briefly imprisoned after João had dissolved the Cortes, but had been released in an amnesty after six months. He involuntarily flinched when he heard the announcement that Pedro was now King of Portugal. What, that traitor, that rebel, is now our King? And are we going to be under Brazilian rule once more? But then he thought: better Dom Pedro than Dom Miguel.

"Dom Miguel is the rightful King!", shouted Oliveira when the proclamation reached his ears. He made his way home quickly, and wrote a letter to Miguel:

"Your Majesty,

It is with the greatest sadness and regret that I must inform you that your illustrious father, Dom João VI, is dead. My sincerest condolences I extend to you. It therefore follows that, by the Fundamental Laws of the Kingdom, Your Majesty is now the King of Portugal and the Algarves. Alas, however, Dom Pedro has been quite improperly proclaimed as King instead. As Your Majesty's humble and faithful subject, let it be known that I will wholeheartedly support Your Majesty in whatever actions you may take to recover your rights and save our country from the liberal scourge.

With humble affection,

Oliveira"

The Battle of the Braganzas Volume II: The Fall-Out - Chapter 5 Family Affairs

 Leopoldina frowned as she studied the text of the draft Treaty of Rio de Janeiro.

"This treaty is no good at all", she said.

"How?", asked Pedro. "It gives us what is vitally important, recognition by Portugal of our independence."

"In so many different ways", replied Leopoldina. "It states that your father 'yields and transfers from his free will' the sovereignty of Brazil to you and our heirs. His free will! Did all the blood sacrifices of the last three years not happen? Did not you yourself, in your great wisdom, guide this country to freedom?"

Pedro opened his mouth to argue, but Leopoldina continued:

"Furthermore, the Treaty says that your father 'takes and reserves for himself' the title of Emperor of Brazil, and that you consent to his use of the title that by rights is yours alone. Also, we are to pay Portugal 80 tons of gold in reparations. Reparations for what? For fighting for our rights? After all the depradations and insults that Portugal committed against us, yet it is we who are to compensate them? Should it not be the other way round? And last of all, Portugal is to have all her trading privileges restored."

Leopoldina put down the copy of the Treaty and looked at Pedro straight in the eye.

"The people will not accept this humiliation", she said. "There are already rumours afoot that you and your father are plotting together to reunite us with Portugal."

"Why, I have no such plans", said Pedro angrily. "How can you say so?"

"I did not say you had such plans", said Leopoldina calmly. "I would never suspect you of such a treacherous deed. But there are unfortunately many who believe so, and your father calling himself Emperor of Brazil - and your agreeing to this - is only fuelling them. The people will not like it if you agree to this disgrace of a treaty."

"I have to agree to it", replied Pedro. "The European powers have made it plain that they will not recognise our independence until Portugal does so."

"Shouldn't you at least wait until the General Assembly has convened?", asked Leopoldina. "Under the Constitution, it is they who are to ratify the Treaty."

"No", said Pedro, "I need to ratify it myself, while I still have that power. We need the countries of Europe to recognise us, so they will help promote immigration to this country, and thus aid our social and economic development - something we badly need. I also need to solve this issue quickly, to address the trouble in Cisplatina."

Although Pedro had succeeded in crushing the Confederation of the Equator, with 16 rebel leaders executed and the remainder pardoned, in Cisplatina matters were starting to come to a head. A group of 33 men had started a rebellion, proclaiming union with the United Provinces - the situation had proved to be more serious that Pedro had anticipated. In addition, Pedro thought, hadn't Domitilia already told him that ratifying the Treaty was the right thing to do?

Leopoldina opened her mouth to argue, but soon realised it was useless.

Pedro had informed Leopoldina that he was going to present a potential new lady-in-waiting to her, and hoped that she would be so gracious as to appoint this lady to the position. Leopoldina was sitting in her chambers, awaiting the new arrival. Maybe, she thought, this new lady-in-waiting would be a good friend, one in whom she could confide her growing concerns about what Pedro was doing.

The door to the room opened: Leopoldina stood up, and smiled, as Pedro came in, followed by a woman she had never seen before.

"Leopoldina, this is Domitilia de Castro, Baroness of Santos, whose father has done great service to me", said Pedro. "My lady Baroness, this is the Empress."

Domitilia curtsied and kissed Leopoldina's hand, as Pedro had instructed her to.

Leopoldina smiled again.

"Welcome to Boa Vista Palace, Domitilia", she said.

"Your Imperial Majesty", said Domitilia, "this is the greatest honour, and I promise to be your faithful servant."

"I have no doubt", answered Leopoldina, "and I willingly appoint you to my service."

Domitilia jumped up and laughed for joy: this disturbed Leopoldina, but not as much as what she glimpsed in Pedro's face. He was beaming, looking as happy as Leopoldina had ever seen him, and his eyes glanced at Domitilia: he quickly turned away, once he knew Leopoldina was staring at him, and stared awkwardly at the floor.

Leopoldina's eyes narrowed.

"Is there anything going on between the two of you?", she asked.

"Well . . . nothing, really . . ." spluttered Pedro.

"Don't lie to me", said Leopoldina: there was a rare note of sternness in her face.

"Pedro has been very good to me . . .", began Domitilia.

" 'Pedro'?," repeated Leopoldina.

Pedro strode forward and put his arm around Domitilia: she rested her head on his shoulder, and he caressed her.

"Well, yes, you are right", he said awkwardly to Leopoldina.

Domitilia smirked at the Empress.

Leopoldina bowed her head.

"But this doesn't mean I don't love you", said Pedro earnestly. "It's just that I love Domitilia as well, and she loves me."

"And I'm supposed to be happy with that?", demanded Leopoldina. "Happy that my husband, the man I love, sleeps with another woman? Happy that you are breaking your wedding vows? Happy that you are disobeying the Seventh Commandment?" She did her best to avoid Domitilia's gloating grin.

"I can love more than one woman", said Pedro, his voice rising

"I am your lawful wedded wife", said Leopoldina. "I am the one that you are pledged to, the mother of your children, the one who has always loved and been faithful to you."

She was on the verge of tears.

"Now, now", said Pedro, "it is quite improper for a wife to question her husband's actions like this."

"And it is improper for a husband to be unfaithful to his wife!", said Leopoldina. "It's immoral, it's against the law of God, it's . . ."

Distracted, she strode out of the chamber, as fast as her dignity and her pregnancy would allow, doing her best to hide her tears. She made her way to the nursery, where Maria, Januária and Paula were playing, joined by their nine month-old sister Francisca, known as Chica. The girls all ran to their mother and hugged her.

"What's wrong, Mama?", asked Maria.

"I can't tell you", answered Leopoldina.

"Is it something about Papa?", asked Januária, placing a consoling hand on Leopoldina's arm. Leopoldina smiled, despite herself.

"No", she said quickly.

Paula smiled shyly at her mother, while Chica danced around and pulled a few faces: eventually Leopoldina broke out into a laugh. Perhaps if my baby is a boy, Pedro will treat me better, she thought.

"It's a boy!", proclaimed the midwife.

"Hurrah! At last!", shouted Pedro, jumping for joy.

Leopoldina, thoroughly exhausted and breathing very heavily, smiled as broadly as she could. Weakly she stretched out her arms and gently caressed her newborn son.

"You are the future of Brazil", she told him proudly.

She beckoned to her four daughters to come to her bedside and say hello to their baby brother. Maria looked resentful, even though Leopoldina did her best to explain that the fact she was no longer the heir did not mean she was any less loved.

"What will you call him?", inquired the midwife.

"His name is Pedro, but we shall call him Pedrinho", the Emperor replied at once.

"Can I hold him?", asked Domitilia: she was holding Pedro's hand.

"Certainly not", said Leopoldina.

"That's so unfair of her", complained Domitilia, turning imploringly to Pedro.

"Hand him over", Pedro commanded.

"I shall not", insisted Leopoldina. "I am the Empress, I am his mother, and . . .

"And I am his father, the Emperor, and your husband", said Pedro: there was a slight but unmistakable angry tone in his voice. "I order you to hand him over to the Viscountess of Santos."

Leopoldina gave an exasperated sigh, and reluctantly allowed the midwife to pick the baby up and place him in Domitilia's arms. Leopoldina turned away, unable to bear the sneering look Domitilia was giving her. The four princesses turned away from the bed to stare in confusion at this strange scene: Maria glared at Domitilia.