OF THE EVENTS THAT BEFELL ME ON MY ARREST, AND IN THE HOLY HOUSE AT
GOA.
Now while we were in the coach I did make inquiry of Dom Lewis
whether they were a-carrying me to the _Santa Casa_ (or Holy House, as
the palace of the Inquisition is wont to be called, as though in
mockery), but he refused to answer me, saying that I should discover
where I was when I reached the journey’s end. And I therefore waiting
patiently, we presently alighted, and after some ceremonies gone
through before an officer, and the placing of irons on my feet, I was
taken along a certain passage, and thrust into an extreme noisome and
stinking place, wherein was already confined some thirty or forty
persons. And these, I found, were common murderers and thieves of the
town; for they rose upon me with one consent, and did take from me
such money and other small matters as I had in my pockets, I not
caring to resist them overmuch, as knowing that I should have no peace
until they were well satisfied that they had left me nothing. And
asking where I was, one advised me that the place was the _Aljuvar_,
or prison belonging to the Ordinary, that is, the Archbishop of Goa,
for that some law or custom hindered their carrying me at once to the
Holy House.
In this foul and filthy hole I was left for two nights and a day,
suffering great discomfort, and this not only in my mind, from the
company I was in, but in body also, inasmuch as the floor was so
covered with all nastiness that I durst not lay myself down, but was
fain to abide standing, or at most leaning against the wall, which
indeed scarce pleased me better than the floor, for that space of
time. This chamber of the _Aljuvar_ was situate below the level of the
ground, and hollowed out of the rock, holding but one small opening to
the light, through the which scarce a single ray could manage to pass.
In the midst of the floor was a well or chasm, from the which, as from
the lowest pit, there ascended evil and mephitical vapours, that were
at times insupportable. I can scarce find it in me to cast up against
the prisoners their robbing me of my money, and the eagerness they
showed in this thievish work, since the Ordinary provided no food for
’em, and they must have starved had it not been for the charity of
certain worthy persons, that brought broken victuals for to be given
them. I myself had been like to have fared ill but for the kindness of
the boy Peter, who brought me a basketful of such food as he could
compass, the overplus whereof I did divide among my fellows. During
the second night of my imprisonment I slept scarce a wink, being so
sore troubled with the vermins that abounded in the place, and the
stench from the well. Yet was not this discomfort wholly to be held a
misfortune, since it hindered me from dwelling overmuch on the hard
and unkind behaviour of Dom Lewis, which otherwise had sorely
exercised me.
Despite this saving clause, nevertheless, ’twas with a joy that I had
little expected ever to feel in the like posture of affairs that I
heard myself summoned by the turnkey to come to the door, in order to
my being transferred to the keeping of the Inquisition. At my request,
time was granted me to make some small changes in my apparel and the
like, and after this, the same persons as before met me on the
threshold, and carried me in the coach to the Holy House, which is
situate on that side of the great square that stands opposite to the
cathedral, and is of a lofty and solemn aspect, being entered by three
great doorways, whereof the midmost leadeth into the great hall, where
I was taken. And here my conductors delivered me over into the hands
of others that were there, and the irons that were upon my legs were
knocked off. And this occupying some time, I had leisure to consider
how little, when I, as had once been my custom, had read with my
cousin Dorothy on the Sunday evenings in Mr Foxe his ‘Booke of
Martirs,’ sitting in the summertime in the garden-arbour, and on the
settle beside the great hall-fire in the winter, how little, I say, we
had thought that I myself should ever come as a prisoner into the
hands of that very Inquisition, of the devilish cruelties whereof we
trembled only to read.
But these musings could not last long, for when they had released me
from my irons, the officers into whose charge I had been given led me
into a chamber opening from the hall, that is called, as I heard
thereafter, the Board of the Holy Office. This chamber is hung round
about with very fair tapestry, wrought in stripes of blue and citron
colour, and at one end on’t a great crucifix in projecting work, that
reached almost to the ceiling. There was a raised place in the midst,
whereon stood a long table with great chairs set all around it, and at
the end by the crucifix a folding-stool for the secretary. Opposite to
this was set another fold-stool for the prisoner (that was I), and in
the chairs around the table sat my lords the Inquisidors[68] and
their officers. And of these Inquisidors, that are persons of a mighty
severe aspect, and very reverend of bearing, the chief is a secular
priest, and the second a religious of the Order of the Dominicans, and
vested in their particular apparel, which is a white vesture set with
a crotchet[69] in black, and this under a black gown or cowl. And I,
after bowing myself with all imaginable respect unto their lordships,
did sit down, as they bade me, upon the stool set for me, having on my
right hand the Grand Inquisidor, who, beginning to speak, said to me
somewhat in a tongue that I took to be the Italian, but which I
understood not, and did shake my head for to signify the same. They
asked of me next, whether I could speak the Portuguese, and on my
answering in that tongue, with some halting, that I understood it but
passably, and spake it as yet hardly at all, they demanded to know
whether I would have an interpreter. And I accepting of the same with
gratitude, they sent a messenger, who presently returned, bringing
with him a Jesuit priest, clothed, as their manner is, in a long black
gown, with a collar and rings, and a high round cap flat at the top,
and this person did take his stand beside my lord the Grand
Inquisidor, for to interpret to me what he should say.
At the command, then, of his lordship, this Paulistin asked of me, in
outlandish enough English, concerning my name and state of life, both
which I gave him, and then concerning the cause of my arrest, to which
I made answer that to the best of my belief ’twas my not complying
with the superstitious custom of the place--viz., in my refusing to
bow to the procession that went past, carrying the Host with it. And
upon this, with great solemnity, the interpreter adjured me to make a
full confession of all the matters whereof I was accused, for that
then the Holy Office should exercise its right of mercy, and release
me speedily, with great advantage gained to my soul. He bade me also
search and see whether my conscience warned me of no other crimes, for
the which I might worthily be brought to trial and punished, but I
made answer that I knew not what they might account crimes, but that
so far as I remembered I could not charge myself with any that need
come under their lordships’ notice. Furthermore, I declared to them
that I was a subject of the King of England, and desired to be
assisted by some consul or other officer of his majesty’s, and also
threatened them with our fleet should they ill-use me or refuse me
justice; but upon this they did dismiss me hastily, and bade the
interpreter see me duly lodged.
I was taken then to a certain gallery, the priest and the secretary
going with me, and there was brought thither my two trunks, and these
the _alcaide_, as they call the chief turnkey, set himself to open and
search, the secretary being at his side and noting down what was found
therein. And while this was doing, the priest that had acted
interpreter turned to me with a jolly laugh.
“These men speak no English,” says he, “and I have many things to ask
of ye that I’d fain know, so with your pleasure we’ll discourse
awhile. May I ask whether ye would be son to Sir Harry Carlyon, that
once led the king’s forces in the West Country?”
“Seignior,” says I, greatly surprised, yet willing to be civil to this
agreeable person, “Sir Harry Carlyon is my father.”
“Well met, then!” said he, “though I’d be glad to have had it in a
better place. Your good father did me a kindness once, and sure I’ll
not forget it. I hope Sir Harry is in good health, sir?”
“He was well when he writ to me last,” says I. “But pray, seignior,
pardon my boldness in asking where you gat acquainted with my father.
Was it in the wars of Germany?”
“Nay, ’twas in the wars of England,” says he. “The history on’t I’ll
tell you another time, but advertise me now how matters are going
under King Charles II., in Ireland especially.”
I perceived then that this person’s outlandish talk was all after the
manner of the Irish, and after I had told him something of that which
he desired to know, I learned that his name was Thigue O’Leary, but
that in religion he was called _Padree Deodoro_, which in our tongue
is Father Theodorus. Also he was good enough to testify great goodwill
towards me, and to say that he hoped he should see me from time to
time, for which (says he cheerfully) there will be opportunity enough
before ye leave this place.
“For I see,” says he to me, “that ye are a lively youth, and mighty
nimble with your tongue too. Sure I nearly laughed outright to hear ye
calling down wrath on their lordships just now. And the cunning of ye!
How did ye know that there was a poor Irishman here, dying for a man
to talk to, when ye pretended not to understand the Inquisidor’s
Latin?”
“I han’t heard any Latin, sir,” said I. “His lordship spoke to me in
the Italian, as I believed.”
“Italian!” cried Father Theodorus, winking upon me with his eye, “sure
’twas mighty ancient Italian; like this, wan’t it?” and he pronounced
some words, so that I saw that what I had taken for Italian was but
Latin, spoken in their barbarous and Papistical fashion, as I had
before heard it from Dom Lewis. But the Padree continued to believe
that I had spoken falsely, and had denied my knowledge with the intent
to gain some advantage.
“But pray, sir,” says I, seeing that he would not believe me, “tell me
how long I must stay in this place?”
“Until ye die or convert,” says he, mighty drily.
“Alack, then, I am undone!” I cried; “but how will they use me?”
“That also depends on yourself,” says he.
“Unhappy wretch that I am!” I said; “what shall become of me?”
“Sure I don’t know,” says Father Theodorus; “but for your own sake, I
trust ye will convert. But that ye will determine for yourself. My
business is but to talk to ye. As I said, ’tis sorry I am to see your
father’s son in this place, but I’m glad to have an Englishman for to
talk with. I can’t let ye out, indeed, but I can talk to ye, and maybe
convert ye, and even if I can’t do that, I might do worse than try.
Sure ye have yet some things to be thankful for.”
Such was the strange and laughable humour of the man, that I could
scarce avoid a smile even then to hear him. He took such infinite
delight in a jest, as I have never seen equalled, and had a droll
fashion of playing the philosopher with regard to untoward chances,
that brought some diversion and even consolation therein. But he could
not now treat me with any more of his philosophy, for the officers,
having finished the searching of my boxes, came now for to search me
also. And so well was this searching done, that they took from me even
such little matters as the thieves in the prison had left me, among
them his highness the Viceroy’s ring, the which I had contrived to
hide, and gave back to me only my handkercher, which was but a coarse
one, and not laced. Seeing that they had placed aside my books, which,
in truth, were not many, but very dear and precious to me, I entreated
that they would suffer me to keep them; but the secretary, through
Father Theodorus, told me that no books was allowed in the Holy House.
My comb even they also took away from me, saying I should have no need
on’t, which indeed was true, since they brought a barber at once for
to cut off my hair. Now this was very thick and long, so that I was
extreme loath to lose it, nor has it ever grown since as it should do.
“Sure, ’tis a Roundhead ye are become in your old age, my boy,” said
Father Theodorus; but so grieved was I that I could not bring up a
smile for his untimely jest. And thus cropped like unto a Puritan or a
madman, they led me to my cell. And this was situate on the higher
floor of one of the squares of buildings into the which this place is
divided; for on each floor are seven or eight cells, opening on a
gallery, and each cell is some ten foot square. And here they left me,
desiring that I might find myself altogether comfortable there, and
the two doors (whereof more hereafter) were locked.
Now until I had been left by myself in this wise, I had scarce
considered in my mind that I was truly a prisoner of the Inquisition.
The civility of the officers, the reverend presence of the Lords
Inquisidors, the decency with which the audience was conducted, the
pleasantry of Father Theodorus, all conspired to make me feel that I
was but in some piece of trouble a little greater than ordinary,
wherefrom I must speedily be released through the representations of
my friends. And even now, remembering that I had seen naught of the
savage cruelty I had looked for, I considered that perhaps this
antique tribunal was changing with the times, and becoming more
merciful, wherefore I had been subjected to no manner of torture. How
was I doomed in after-days to be undeceived in regard to this matter!
and truly, when I had been for some time locked into my cell, my old
fears returned thick upon me. It seemed to me at first impossible that
it should be I, Edward Carlyon, that found myself in such a situation,
and that it was in truth an evil dream, wherefrom I should presently
awake and discover myself in bed at my lodging, or at least in that
stinking cave of the _Aljuvar_. But when I was risen up, and had
walked from end to end of the chamber, and looked upon and touched all
that was therein, I knew that ’twas no dream, but a dreadful truth
that could bring to me (as I thought) only death or dishonour. And
remembering the tales I had heard and read concerning the devilish
doings of the Inquisition, I prayed to God that I might be enabled to
make choice of the first rather than of the last.
Now when I had remained for some time plunged in these gloomy
contemplations, the _alcaide_ brought in my dinner, the which, since I
had tasted naught that day, did mightily refresh me, so that when I
had eaten I was minded to see all that was in my power. And first I
applied myself to look at the chamber itself, which is still as clear
imprinted on my mind as if I saw it now, as well it may be, since
there was granted me so long time for to study the aspect on’t. The
cell was, as I have said already, some ten feet square, and at one end
the floor was raised, so as to be a platform for sleeping on, whereon
was spread a mat, and a checked counterpane for me to wrap myself
withal. And for all other furnishing was there only divers earthen
vessels, some finer and some coarser, for to hold water for washing,
drinking, and the like, and a brush wherewith to sweep the chamber.
Beside these was there the lesser of my two trunks, with certain
clothes in it and no more. The roof was vaulted with stone, and it and
the walls washed white. Such light as there was came through a little
window covered with a grating, so high that even standing on my trunk
I could never reach it. The place was closed by two doors, whereof the
inner had in it a window, whereby the turnkey might put in my food,
but the outer was made all over of iron, and was very strong. And this
is all that was to be remarked in my cell, without it were the joints
in the stones of the walls and floor, which I may well know by heart,
seeing that I abode in that cell for three years. Now, if this had
been told me beforehand I had assuredly fainted in my courage, for it
seemed to me then, and will always so seem, that those three years was
the slowest that ever passed on earth.
It was not at the first that weariness pressed so heavily upon me, for
I determined within myself to use my time profitably, and so lay it
out to the best advantage. Wherefore I did set apart certain hours of
each day for the recalling my past life, considering in especial how I
might have ordered it better than I had, and deploring my occasional
levities of speech or conduct. Likewise to the best of my power I
called up such things as I had read touching the Popish controversy,
and endeavoured to set in order in my mind such arguments on behalf of
our Reformed Faith as are deemed most certain among us. And in order
that I might not suffer altogether from the loss of my books, in case
some fortunate chance should ever afford me enlargement, I gave some
time to repeating over those passages which I knew by heart, whether
of the Bible or of other good books, or of such poetry as had come in
my way of late years. And lest I should suffer in my employment as a
merchant, of every day I devoted also a part to the making and casting
up of accounts, bills of lading, invoices and the like, such as it
might fall to my lot to draw out again should I ever win release. And
to all this employment of my mind I conceive it to be due that I was
able to pass through these years with health and clearness of brain,
in spite of the many cruel torments from the which I suffered, as you
shall hear.
Now when I had been some five months in this place (I meanwhile
marking the time by scratching with a broken potsherd a line upon the
wall for each day), and hearing nothing nor receiving no summons from
their lordships the Inquisidors, the _alcaide_ told me that I must now
petition for a trial. And I, being by no means desirous to bring upon
myself those severities whereof I had read, yet neither wishing to be
left to live out my appointed course of life in this manner, did ask
that I might be visited by Father Theodorus. Now this good man I had
already seen twice since the day I had entered the place, since once
in every two months one of the Inquisidors, together with their
lordships’ secretary, is wont to go round to all the cells, asking the
prisoners whether there is aught whereof they would make complaint,
and with these come Father Theodorus as interpreter. But on my sending
to seek him he came again, and entering my cell with the _alcaide_
(for no officer of the Inquisition may ever speak with a prisoner
alone), he asked me with great eagerness whether I was willing to
convert. And I replying that I had no such thought, he testified
extreme pity and sadness, but advised me that I should put their
lordships in mind of my case through him.
“Not that ’tis forgot,” says he, “for the articles of accusation are
drawn up, and the witnesses have been duly examined; but their
lordships were willing to grant ye a convenient space wherein to
consider and repent of your deeds if ye so desired it.”
“But pray, sir,” says I, “who were the witnesses? For it hath always
been told me that seven were required.”
“Why,” says he, “the chief is Dom Lewis de Bustamante, that brought ye
hither. Then there is Father Sebastian, a Paulistin like myself,
several gentlemen that heard ye speak blasphemies in his highness’s
palace, and divers persons of the lower sort, convicts and soldiers
and the like, that witnessed your carriage and heard your words on the
bridge and in the square of the cathedral.”
“Truly,” said I, “you seem hard put to’t for witnesses, and yet, since
you have so many, methinks Dom Lewis had done well to have made shift
to resign his duty as one of ’em, which can scarce be pleasing to a
gentleman of his quality.”
“Ye poor ignorant heretic!” cries Father Theodorus, “’tis his duty,
and therefore his delight. Sure ’twas he accused ye.”
“_Mine own familiar friend!_” says I.
“What would ye have?” says the father. “He could do no otherwise; for
if he had not done’t, sure he’d have been denounced himself by the
priest. ’Tis the law that he that conceals heresy is himself a
heretic, and earns the like punishment. And Dom Lewis, being an
officer of this holy tribunal, must not set an example of failing in
his duty.”
Now upon this I fear that I forgot myself, and uttered many things
that should not have been said concerning both the Holy Office and its
ministers, such as were little like to better my situation, since even
Father Theodorus put his hands before his ears and besought me to
cease, saying he could not stay to hear such blasphemies. And I, being
loath to displease and fray away this good friend, did force myself to
cease, and begged of him to take such steps as he saw best for the
bringing my case before their lordships. And he departing, I felt all
at once an extraordinary great grief that I should of myself have
broke in upon my safe, though quiet life, and called myself a fool for
my pains, and would have had him return if it had been possible.
But ’twas now too late for this, and some three days thereafter the
_alcaide_ advertised me that I was summoned to my second audience of
the Inquisidors, and bade me dress myself very neat for to come before
their lordships. He carried me with him then to the same chamber as
before, and when we were arrived at the door on’t, knocked three
times. At the third time a bell was rung from within, and the door
opened by an officer, when their lordships were discovered sitting
around their table as before, with the clerk ready at hand, and Father
Theodorus also, bearing as solemn and devout an aspect as if he had
never passed a word with me in private in his life. The Grand
Inquisidor, by his means, then ordered me to kneel down and take upon
a certain book the oath which they should administer to me. And this
book was, in so far as I could judge, a _Missale_ or office-book of
the Roman Church. I then kneeling, they required of me to swear that I
would conceal all the secrets of the Holy Office, and speak the truth.
To whom I made answer that, knowing none of their secrets, it was not
reasonable to suppose I could reveal ’em; but that to the second part
I would swear willingly, though I needed no swearing to ensure the
truth from me. Whereupon they administered the oath, and bade me again
be seated.
And now they desired to know the names of all my kin, even so far as
my grandparents, which were all wrote down with much ceremony, and
then asked whether I had been baptised, which when I had answered, one
of the officers thrust before me a crucifix, and demanded of me to
take an oath of my confession of faith. This was so sudden and so
little expected that I was for the moment taken aback, so that I saw
Father Theodorus look glad and happy, as thinking that I was about to
profess myself a Papist; but I thank God that strengthened me and
enabled me to declare that I had been born and brought up a Protestant
of the Reformed Church of England, in which, if it so pleased Him, I
hoped also to die. And upon this the chief Inquisidor addressed me,
Father Theodorus interpreting, and said that I must now be proceeded
against for an heretic, and so remanded me to my cell, adjuring me to
tax my memory and thus make a good confession when I next came before
the Board of the Holy Office.
Now on returning to my cell, I experienced a great gladness and
uplifting of heart, for that God had graciously given me power to
witness a true confession, so that I was constrained to lift up my
voice in praise to Him, singing one of David’s psalms, until the
_alcaide_ came with small patience to my door, and roughly told me
that if I did not cease my singing, I should receive two hundred
lashes. But although they might stop my mouth, yet could not they
hinder me from making melody in my heart, so that I can truly say,
that had the summons to the torture-chamber come that night, I had
gone to the rack, yea, even to the stake itself, with as great
constancy and as firm a heart as any of those blessed martyrs of whom
we read. In this happy posture of mind I remained for some days, being
so enwrapt in holy joy and confidence that I hailed every step in the
passage as perchance that of one who might be sent to summon me to
glorify God in the torment, and leaped up to meet the turnkey on his
entrance.
But the summons did not come, and I returned by degrees unto my old
ways, yet with a mind not so settled and a humour more melancholic
than before. For there come to me in the night visions of the old
house at Ellswether, and my father sitting in his great chair in the
hall, and on the threshold little Dorothy watching for tidings of me,
and wondering and grieving because none came. And the devil was not
sparing of evil suggestions--viz., that I should purchase lasting ease
and freedom by a seeming compliance, such as need not bind me in the
future, and must needs be far better than to die unknown a shameful
death, while those at home should never guess what had befell me.
Night after night was I tormented with these evil dreams, engendered
in great part, as I have no doubt, by the closeness of the place and
the extreme desire I had to go abroad in the air, which not happening,
I lacked at last even strength to perform the tasks I had set myself
in the daytime. And when, after some three or four months, the
Inquisidors summoned me again before them, so broken and weary was I
that it had given me little pain to have gone straight to death
instead.
And at the beginning of this third audit was there the same ceremony
observed as before, but more persons was present, notably one that had
the appearance of a proctor or advocate. And I being seated as
heretofore, and after some questions asked of no importance, they
showed me a great paper covered thick with writing and garnished with
divers seals, and told me that there was therein contained the charges
made against me, which I must now answer according to my oath. And
upon this the secretary did read out one by one the accusations, to
the number of two-and-twenty in all, and to these I did my best to
answer, though no time was given me for the considering what I should
say. And so trivial and foolish were some of these charges that I
can’t now so much as remember them, but I will down set the chief of
those that I recollect.
First, there was several accusations charging me with insulting the
Host that was carried in the procession, with insulting the images of
the saints by refusing to kiss them, and with insulting the Holy
Church by saying that her monks might be better employed than in
praying in their monasteries. To these, after some small changes made
in the words, I confessed. And after these come another set of charges
that wrought in me no small astonishment. For it seemed that my chance
words said to the boy Peter in my walks with him, or to Dom Lewis and
other young gentlemen, or merely remarked, and addressed to no one at
all, had been twisted and turned to mean disrespect to the objects
they worship. And this although no such disrespect had been intended
nor thought on, for I always conceived it only due to civility to make
no attempt upon the religion of the persons with whom I discoursed,
without they should try to meddle with mine. And after this the
Inquisidors accused me of coming to Goa with malicious and criminal
designs of subverting the Viceroy and the authority of his majesty the
king of Portingale,[70] and of overturning the Church, supporting
their charges by reports gleaned from Portuguese merchants and
sea-captains, and scraps they had pieced together from my books and
papers. And these two classes of charges I steadfastly denied. But the
last of all was that I was found to be an obdurate and contumacious
heretic, that refused to mend my ways for all their gentleness and the
opportunities they gave me, and this I must needs confess to be true.
This business then being finished, the Grand Inquisidor demanded of me
whether I desired a counsellor for to plead my cause, and I answering
that I did so desire, they pointed out to me a person that held, they
said, that office, and was the one I had thought to be a lawyer. But I
demanding when I should be permitted to consult with him upon my
defence, they told me that this was not permitted. I looked then that
this gentleman should essay some sort of defence out of his own
wisdom, but he made no motion to speak, and Father Theodorus, the Lord
Inquisidor commanding him, said, “Lawyers an’t allowed to speak before
the Board of the Holy Office.” Then I, perceiving that their semblance
of justice was but a blind and a pretence, did commend my soul to God,
and told their lordships that I had no more to add unto what I had
already said, and that if that didn’t satisfy them, then I was in
their hands, and they must even do what they would with me. Then says
the Grand Inquisidor, with a very evil and menacing air--
“You won’t confess? Remember that we have here means to force
confession. Go, and think upon this, and God bring you to a better
mind!”
Then the _alcaide_ brought me back to my cell, where, seeing that I
had no more any hope of enlargement, and that they purposed evil
against me, I gave myself up for some time to an extreme grief and
sadness. And this being observed, they sent to seek Father Theodorus,
as thinking, no doubt, that fear was bringing me to yield, and this
civil person and good Christian (although a Papist) made haste to
visit me. And truly (though I hope it an’t in any spirit of boasting
that I say it), had I been in any way inclined to turn, his words must
have won me. For it seemed that the Portugals, having some slight
inkling of the true reason for my errand to Goa, did credit me with
much greater authority and insight than I possessed, and would have it
that I was sent to concert plots for the revolting of the country by a
league of the English with Seva Gi the Moratty king. Thus it appeared
to them that if I would convert and join myself to them, they would
become acquainted of all the plans and designs of the Company with
respect to the Indies, and so be able to thwart ’em all.
And in this thought they made to me, through Father Theodorus, many
flattering offers (too flattering, indeed, ever to be performed, had I
been fool enough to be allured by them). For they were willing, said
he, to settle upon me a pension, and upon my heirs after me, and to
marry me to a kinswoman of the Viceroy’s (who was commended to me as
extraordinary handsome and a great fortune, and had, so said Father
Theodorus, caught sight of me from a balcony when I was at large, and
become enamoured of me), and so to transport me safely to the Brasils,
where a genteel estate and a convenient provision of slaves should be
appointed me. And on the other side, says Father Theodorus, while as
with the tears standing in his eyes he besought me to convert, there
was the rack and other more fearful torments, and a miserable death at
the burning-place. So moving were his pleadings that the _alcaide_
himself joined in them, and entreated me with much earnestness not to
throw away soul and body alike. But through God’s grace I was enabled
to stand firm and refuse them, and so they left me, warning me that I
should afterwards desire to have followed their advice.