The Whispers of the Court and the Dutch Shadow
In this year of 1664, a growing unease settled over the court of Lisbon, extending far beyond the usual intrigues or news from the Spanish front. The subject of the murmurs, often stifled but persistent, was Catherine of Braganza, our princess who had become Queen of England.
Her marriage to King Charles II, sealed in 1662, had not yet borne the hoped-for fruits. News reaching Portugal through discreet channels and attentive ambassadors spoke of an increasingly tense situation in London.
After a notable miscarriage in 1663, the pressure on the young Queen had intensified, and her lack of an heir began to weigh heavily on European alliances and stability.
It was, of course, unthinkable for a foreign sovereign to openly interfere in the intimate affairs of the Queen of England. Diplomacy demanded diplomatic gloves, especially when it concerned a queen's health and the succession to a throne.
But Portugal had too much to lose to remain inactive. The court wondered how, without offending English pride or violating customs, it might be possible to offer aid to Catherine, whose distress was palpable.
______
The Concerns of Marquês de Carrasca and the expertise of Dona Beatriz
It was in this climate of uncertainty that Marquês João de Carrasca, back from his inspections, confided his profound worries to his wife, Dona Beatriz. João's face was graver than usual, the echo of English court rumors mingling with much more concrete information he had gathered himself.
"Beatriz," he began, his expression somber, "the news from England is grim. I questioned some of the men I brought back, those former 'New Model Army' soldiers I recruited for the war with Spain. Frank men. And what they say about England is that they will never accept a Catholic king. Never."
He paced the room, his gaze fixed on the world map hanging on the wall. "The Duke of York, this James, Charles's brother, is a notorious catholic. If he become king without a direct heir from Catherine, England would plunge into a new civil war, a fury that would tear the realm from within.
Such instability would gravely weaken England, Beatriz, rendering them vulnerable. And without an heir for Catherine, the line of succession would inevitably drift towards… probably recognized protestants like the Oranges, and even if not thedutch would become again a monopolzing powerhouse in india."
João stopped abruptly, a clenched fist resting on the map. "This is where the real danger lies for us, for Portugal.
An England torn by civil war would desperately seek a Protestant savior, and in the meantime, all that England achieves would be lost, along with a very important ally for our own interests, both for Portugal and for our own directly or indirectly.
Our trading posts, our trade routes in the Indies and our riches in Brazil… everything would be jeopardized by such Dutch hegemony, a weakened England under their influence."
Dona Beatriz, carrying their third child (whose gender they did not yet know), listened with silent attention. She perceived the full extent of her husband's concerns, far beyond simple gossip.
It was not Queen Catherine's personal distress that gnawed at him, but the very survival of Portugal's strategic position.
She approached him, placing a soft hand on his arm. "My dear," she said, her voice calm and serene, "affairs of state are indeed complex, but life follows fundamental ways. You speak of the missing heir for Queen Catherine, of this necessity to avert the Dutch danger."
She paused, a slight smile illuminating her face.
"Have you observed, my love, the manner in which our own children, Simão and young João, came to the world? And how the one now growing thrives so well? It is not by chance. It is the result of constant attention to the tranquility of my mind, far from the agitations and pressures of grand Courts. It is the result of a carefully chosen diet, simple yet nourishing, which strengthens the body without weakening it. And it is, I have no doubt, the benefit of meticulous hygiene, constant cleanliness of the environment and the body, which wards off the fevers and ills that devastate so many royal births."
Her gaze intensified. "Physicians speak of temperaments and humors, but I can assure you, from my own experience as a woman and a mother, that inner tranquility, a healthily nourished body, and a pure environment are the true pillars of a robust lineage. Queen Catherine, in her London environment, is she surrounded by such conditions? Is it the calm and serenity accorded to a woman bearing the heavy expectation of a nation?"
João looked at her, his thoughts momentarily drifting from military maps and commercial cunning. Dona Beatriz's logic was disarmingly simple, a truth men of power often forgot amidst their machinations. How, indeed, could one expect a queen to give birth to a healthy heir under such conditions? The problem of succession, so complex in politics, boiled down, for a woman, to much more fundamental realities.
__________
The Quest for Knowledge and the Prince's Calculation
Dona Beatriz's disarmingly simple suggestion resonated in João's strategic mind. If the solutions were so elementary, why were they not applied to the Queen? He understood that the problem was less medical than contextual. A physician was needed, yes, but one capable of discerning these "simple truths" and communicating them with the necessary delicacy, without offending the English court. A physician whose observations would go beyond bleedings and purges, and who would understand the importance of overall well-being.
João de Carrasca immediately dispatched emissaries to Coimbra, the prestigious Portuguese university, a true beacon of knowledge. His instructions were clear: find a "Físico Mor" (chief physician) or a scholar renowned for his discretion, his understanding of the human body's mechanisms, and, above all, his ability to observe the influence of environment on health.
After several weeks of discreet inquiries, consultations with academics and colleagues, the name of Dr. Sebastião Nunes emerged.
A man in his fifties, respected for his vast erudition and gentle manner, but especially for his unique interest in the "conditions of life" affecting his patients' vitality. He seemed to be the ideal man for this delicate mission.
However, sending a mere physician was not enough. Such an initiative needed to be covered by unquestionable authority, whose interests aligned with those of Portugal. João knew he had to approach Dom Pedro, the Infant and brother of King Afonso VI.
Younger, but more pragmatic and resolutely forward-looking, Dom Pedro was increasingly becoming the hope of some nobles forces behind the Crown's affairs.
________
João secured a private audience with Dom Pedro. In the intimacy of the Prince's study, away from prying ears, the Marquês laid out his pessimistic predictions. He detailed the threat of civil war in England should the succession fall to James, and the near certainty that this instability would lead to Dutch hegemony over England.
"Your Royal Highness," João explained, his voice low but charged with urgency, "England's stability is not merely an English affair. It directly impacts the core of our own empire. If England is torn by civil war, they will be vulnerable, forced to seek a savior among Protestant powers. Imagine, Your Grace, a resurgence of Dutch supremacy in the Indies! All that we have built, all our efforts to secure our trade routes and defend our possessions, from Brazil to the Indies, would be rendered meaningless in the face of this new threat."
Dom Pedro listened, his face unreadable. He fully grasped the gravity of the situation. His own ambitions for Portugal aligned with the need for a stable England, allied and independent of Dutch influence.
"This is not merely a question of Queen Catherine's personal happiness, then," Dom Pedro observed, his eyes narrowing slightly, "but of the survival of our national interests. How, Marquês, do you propose we influence such a delicate situation?"
João presented his plan: "We have identified Dr. Sebastião Nunes of Coimbra. He possesses a understanding of health that transcends common knowledge, particularly regarding the importance of tranquility, diet, and hygiene for a healthy birth, as my wife, Dona Beatriz, has personally experienced. If such a physician, discreetly supported by Your Royal Highness, could consult with Her Majesty Queen Catherine in England, he might offer insights that her English doctors, constrained by court conventions, may have overlooked."
Dom Pedro leaned back, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"A Portuguese doctor, discreetly visiting the Queen of England, financed by the House of Braganza… It is a subtle intervention, audacious, and utterly natural for the Braganza family. If this physician can help secure a robust heir for England, the cost will be insignificant compared to the risks we avoid. No English king would openly welcome advice on his queen's fertility from a foreign power. But a discreet medical consultation, a sharing of 'academic insights'… that, Marquês, is a gambit worth pursuing."
He nodded firmly. "Find Dr. Nunes. I shall arrange the necessary funds, not through the Royal Treasury, but through private channels that lead back to my own coffers. His presence in London must be beyond suspicion, yet his true purpose clear to those who arranged it. If this physician can contribute to a stable English succession, not subject to the Dutch, Portugal will owe him an immeasurable debt. Our future in the Indies, and the very prosperity of Brazil, may depend on it."
___________
London, 1664: The Doctor's Advice: Beyond Traditional Medicine
Dr. Nunes, aware of the political stakes and the subtle influences, addressed Queen Catherine after a thorough examination. He spoke with a grave but respectful tone:
"Your Majesty, my humble science seeks to understand the subtle harmonies of the human body, a divine creation. While the humors and complexions are indeed paramount, I have observed in my years of practice, and indeed, within the very fabric of our noble families in Portugal, that the success of a robust lineage often hinges upon certain conditions of living that nurture the vital essence."
"It is not merely a matter of medicaments, Your Majesty, but of cultivating a fertile ground for life itself. The purity of one's surroundings, the freshness of the air, and a meticulous attention to personal cleanliness – these are not mere courtesies, but necessities that guard against the subtle humors which can weaken the body's natural vigor."
"Furthermore, a regimen of nourishment that is both simple and rich in nature's bounty, carefully prepared and consumed without excess, strengthens the very sinews of life. My observations suggest that pure waters, fresh greens, and light meats, taken in moderation, cleanse the blood and prepare the vessel for the miraculous spark of creation."
"But perhaps most profound, Your Majesty, is the tranquility of the spirit. The constant anxieties, the weight of great responsibilities, the murmurs of courtly life – these can, with time, wear upon the soul and, by extension, upon the delicate balance of the body. I have seen that a mind at peace, unburdened by undue stress and surrounded by serenity, fosters a profound harmony within, making the body more receptive to the blessings of Providence. It is in such conditions, where the spirit is calm and the humors are balanced by quietude, that nature's most precious gifts are often bestowed."
"These are but humble observations, Your Majesty, gleaned from the study of man and the grace of God. I pray that by embracing these principles, your most sacred person may find the path to the fulfillment of your deepest desires, for the eternal glory of the Crown and the joy of your people."
_________
The Whispering of Sages at the Court of London
The meeting was arranged with the required discretion, in a small room adjacent to Queen Catherine's apartments. Dr. Sebastião Nunes, composed and respectful, was introduced to the eminent physicians of the English court: the venerable Sir Edward Browne, the King's physician, his grave face framed by a powdered wig, and the younger, but no less respected Dr. Thomas Sydenham, known for his pragmatism and emphasis on clinical observation.
The atmosphere was polite, but tinged with curiosity and skepticism. What could a Portuguese doctor possibly contribute that their own knowledge hadn't already explored?
After the customary greetings, and a few words about the "progress of Portuguese medicine"—a diplomatic cover cleverly woven by Dom Pedro and Marquês de Carrasca—Dr. Nunes spoke.
He did not directly criticize English methods but presented his observations as general principles of "constitution" and "vitality," drawn from his practice and studies in Coimbra.
"Gentlemen," Dr. Nunes began, his voice soft but assured, "my years of observation have led me to a humble conclusion: that the human body, this delicate temple, responds not only to imbalances of humors through our bleedings and purges, but also, and with sometimes unsuspected force, to the conditions of its daily existence."
Sir Edward Browne, initially impassive, raised an eyebrow. "Conditions of life, Doctor? We certainly pay attention to the air and the patient's humor, as Galen taught us."
"Indeed," Nunes replied with a slight nod. "But I speak of an even deeper attention. Of constant cleanliness of the environment, of room ventilation, of water quality not only for drinking but also for frequent body washes. Of a simple and balanced diet, not just to purge excesses, but to nourish and strengthen the vital forces, without overloading the stomach."
Dr. Sydenham, more curious, inclined slightly.
"You speak then of a form of regimen and hygiene, Doctor Nunes, as our Ancients advocated for philosophers, but applied to royal fertility?"
"Precisely, Doctor Sydenham," Nunes responded. "And furthermore, the tranquility of the spirit. I have observed that troubled minds, burdened by anxiety and expectations, struggle to find the harmony necessary for procreation and the proper development of the child. Serenity, my dear colleagues, is a balm for the body as much as for the soul. For the body to be a fertile garden, the mind must not be a battlefield."
A thoughtful silence fell over the room. The English physicians, accustomed to diagnoses based on the four humors and often drastic treatments, found themselves facing an approach that, without directly contradicting them, shifted the emphasis.
Sir Edward Browne tapped his chin. "Your observations are… interesting, Doctor. Our own practices certainly include rest and diet, but you make them the very pillar."
Behind the scenes, Queen Catherine, informed of the Portuguese doctor's words, felt an echo of her own intuitions. The incessant weight of court life, Charles's infidelities, the disappointment of 1663—all exhausted her. Nunes's words, though delicately phrased, seemed to validate what she felt deep within her: the ailment was not only in her body, but in her life.
Finally, after a discussion that stretched into the afternoon, the English physicians, perhaps influenced by Dr. Nunes's reputation and the Queen's implicit desire to explore all avenues, agreed to incorporate some of these principles.
They would consider them as adjuncts to their usual treatments. The idea was not to revolutionize court medicine, but to offer a "new" perspective, gentle enough not to offend national pride, yet pertinent enough to sow a seed of hope in the Queen's troubled mind.
The advice of "tranquility" would, paradoxically, be the most difficult to apply in the agitation of the English royal court.
___________
The Caribbean Hunt: The Spoils of Sint-Maarten
Dom Diogo and Dom Luís's twelve ships, Portuguese hawks flying under the colors of privateering, sliced through the turquoise waters of the Caribbean.
These corsairs, far more than mere pirates, operated with the Crown's approval, hunting Portugal's enemies, and in this year of 1664, the Dutch were among them.
The sun beat down fiercely, making the sea shimmer, but the captains' eyes scanned the horizon, not for the enemy, but to avoid them.
They had recently spotted the monsters. To the south, an English squadron, with dark, numerous sails, cruised with slow assurance. Further northwest, the squat silhouette of a Dutch fleet loomed, its tall castles spewing smoke from the galleys.
An open war consumed Europe, and here, on this vast liquid chessboard, the great powers clashed for control of the sugar islands and trade routes.
Dom Diogo and Dom Luís were not there to engage in pitched battle with royal squadrons; their goal was to strike where it hurt most, where the enemy was most vulnerable.
"Hard to windward! Closer!" roared Dom Diogo from the deck of the Gaivota, his flagship. His hoarse voice carried over the flapping sails. "These English are too fat, too numerous for us. We are not a naval army, but hunters."
For days, the twelve ships played cat and mouse with the royal behemoths. They knew every nook and cranny of this archipelago, their maps scribbled with secret passes and hidden coves.
Under the cover of the night, they slipped through sleeping islands, their lights masked, their crews silenced. By day, they vanished into the shimmering ocean, their small silhouettes blending into the vastness, while the heavy, slow ships-of-the-line continued their predictable patrols.
Their captains, trained in official warfare, never imagined such a pack of privateers could operate with such discipline and discretion.
The objective, carefully considered, was Sint-Maarten, the divided island. The Dutch part, less heavily fortified than bastions like Curaçao, served as a hub for regional trade and salt production, a precious commodity for preserving food in this era without refrigeration. Its small garrison and shallower port made it an ideal target.
_________
The Sack of Philipsburg
On a moonless night, the twelve ships of Dom Diogo, Dom Luís, and Dom Rui glided like shadows towards the Dutch side of Sint-Maarten. Not a word was spoken aloud, only whispered commands and the discreet creak of ropes. Anchors were lowered without a sound.
The assault was launched at dawn, a thunderclap for the sleeping garrison of Fort Amsterdam and Philipsburg. Diogo and Luís's men, hardened by years of raids, poured onto the beach, their pistols smoking and their cutlasses gleaming. The few cannon shots from the fortifications were disorganized and quickly silenced. Resistance was brief and futile. The startled inhabitants were mostly confined, terrified, while the corsairs seized the warehouses.
The looting was methodical. Teams worked tirelessly, loading small boats then the ships with everything of value: sacks of salt that made the boats sink low, bales of aromatic tobacco and sugar piled into the holds. Provisions were requisitioned, workshops emptied of their tools, and the few merchant ships at anchor inspected and stripped of their cargoes, sometimes received as "generous donations" from "generous Dutch donators." The sound of carts, shouted orders, and the hooves of requisitioned horses echoed through the town.
In less than forty-eight hours, the Dutch part of Sint-Maarten was emptied of its riches. Just before sunrise on the third day, as the first rays tinted the horizon, the ships weighed anchor in silence.
They left behind a devastated port, plundered warehouses, and a humiliated garrison. As the sails filled with the offshore wind, Dom Luís, leaning on the rail, watched Sint-Maarten recede, a satisfied smile on his lips. They had avoided the wolves to devour an easier prey.