Copyright 2007, CLUL
quarto de folha de papel escrito nas duas faces.
desenho entre a fórmula de endereço e o início do texto.
desenho a tinta de dois corações sobrepostos, atravessados de setas e rodeados de cercadura floral.
A autora confessa o seu amor, mas acusa o destinatário de não lhe ser fiel.
Reproduções não dispensam licença do DGARQ/TT.
A José Moro, espanhol preso na Cadeia de Belém, foram apreendidos diversos papéis e 11 moedas falsas em chumbo. Entre os papéis, escondidos na roupa do preso, o carcereiro encontrou um livro de contas, desenhos, cartas e bilhetes. Testemunhando as razões da sua prisão, o réu contou que tinha sido abrangido pela «medida geral para prender os espanhóis no dia 7 de junho de 1828 por ordem do Intendente» (PS6024).
Love letter from an unidentified woman to José Moro, Spaniard, imprisoned.
The author confesses her love for the recipient, but accuses him of being unfaithful.
José Moro, a Spanish prisoner in the jail of Belém, Lisbon, was found with some papers and eleven counterfeit lead coins. Among the papers, hidden in the clothes of the prisoner, the warden found a book full of counts, drawings, letters and notes. Testifying about the reasons of his detention, the accused declared he had been arrested after the order of the Intendant to arrest every Spanish person, in the 7th of June 1828 (PS6024).
«My one and only purpose of my senses.
It is with the greatest delight that I pick up the quill to answer your tender words. I didn't answer your letter earlier because it hasn't been possible, because of my mother, because she says it doesn't seem right to go so often there (where you are). When I heard those words, it was as if my heart had been trespassed by an arrow: it's been a long time since I felt such a hard blow. Only God knows when I'll be able to return there. Now that my happiness has began, I can no longer keep it. Now I can count on my little luck. Now I bring you retreated in the intimacy of my heart. The days I go by without seeing you seem like years. My dear object, I have something to tell you, because I've been told there is another young girl who you love very much and with whom you exchange letters and you tell everything related to her to a friend of yours. It's wrong of you not to keep a secret because, nowadays, we can't trust anyone. I would appreciate if you didn't tell anyone about my feelings, because I don't want anyone to know them, the way I know hers. I never thought you woulkd be as ungrateful as you are, but it doesn't matter: it's all my misfortune, since my friendship towards you is endless. I wish I knew the reason why you haven't asked me to answer your letters, because I suspect you don't want to read my letters nor even see me. Please, accept my nostaligc heart.»
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