RETURN TO PANJIM.
Once more the canoe received us under its canopy, and the boatmen’s oars,
plunging into the blue wave, sounded an adieu to old Goa. After the last
long look, with which the departing vagrant contemplates a spot where he
has spent a happy day or two, we mentally reverted to the adventure of
the Latin professor, and made all preparations for hearing it to the end.
“Well, Sahib,” resumed Salvador, “I told you that my master’s known skill
in such matters was at first baffled by the professor’s bashfulness,
and the presence of a grim-looking sister. But he was not a man to be
daunted by difficulties: in fact, he became only the more ardent in the
pursuit. By dint of labour and perseverance, he succeeded in bringing
the lady to look at him, and being rather a comely gentleman, that was
a considerable point gained. Presently her eternal blushings gave way,
though occasionally one would pass over her fair face when my master’s
eyes lingered a little too long there: the next step in advance was the
selection of an aged sister, who, being half blind with conning over her
breviary, and deaf as a dead donkey, made a very suitable escort.”
“Pray, how did you learn all these particulars?”
“Ah, Sahib,” replied Salvador, “my master became communicative enough
when he wanted my services, and during the trip which we afterwards made
down the coast.
“I was now put forward in the plot. After two days spent in lecturing me
as carefully as a young girl is primed for her first confession, I was
sent up to the nunnery with a bundle of lies upon my tongue, and a fatal
necessity for telling them under pain of many kicks. I did it, but my
repentance has been sincere, so may the Virgin forgive me!” ejaculated
Salvador, with fervent piety, crossing himself at the same time.
“And, Sahib, I also carried a present of some Cognac—called European
medicine—to the prioress, and sundry similar little gifts to the other
officials, not excepting the Latin professor. To her, I presented a
nosegay, containing a little pink note, whose corner just peeped out of
the chambeli[27] blossoms. With fear and trembling I delivered it, and
was overjoyed to see her presently slip out of the room. She returned
in time to hear me tell the prioress that my master was too ill to wait
upon them that day, and by the young nun’s earnest look as she awaited my
answer to the superior’s question concerning the nature of the complaint,
I concluded that the poor thing was in a fair way for perdition. My reply
relieved their anxiety. Immediately afterwards their curiosity came into
play. A thousand questions poured down upon me, like the pitiless pelting
of a monsoon rain. My master’s birth, parentage, education, profession,
travels, rank, age, fortune, religion, and prospects, were demanded
and re-demanded, answered and re-answered, till my brain felt tired.
According to instructions, I enlarged upon his gallantry in action,
his chastity and temperance, his love for his sister, and his sincere
devotion to the Roman Catholic faith.”
“A pretty specimen of a rascal you proved yourself, then!”
“What could I do, Sahib?” said Salvador, with a hopeless shrug of the
shoulders, and an expression of profound melancholy. “My master never
failed to find out a secret, and had I deceived him—”
“Well!”
“My allusion to the sister provoked another outburst of inquisitiveness.
On this subject, also, I satisfied them by a delightful description of
the dear little creature, whose beauty attracted, juvenile piety edified,
and large fortune enchanted every one. The eyes of the old prioress
glistened from behind her huge cheeks, as I dwelt upon the latter part of
the theme especially: but I remarked the Latin professor was so little
interested by it, that she had left the room. When she returned, a book,
bound in dirty white parchment, with some huge letters painted on the
back of the binding, was handed over to me for transmission to my master;
who, it appears, had been very anxious to edify his mind by perusing the
life of the holy Saint Augustine.
“After at least three hours spent in perpetual conversation, and the
occasional discussion of mango cheese, I was allowed to depart, laden
with messages, amidst a shower of benedictions upon my master’s head,
prayers for his instant recovery, and anticipations of much pleasure in
meeting him.
“I should talk till we got to Calicut, Sahib, if I were to detail to you
the adventures of the ensuing fortnight. My master passed two nights in
the cloisters—not praying, I suppose; the days he spent in conversation
with the prioress and sub-prioress, two holy personages who looked rather
like Guzerat apes than mortal women. At the end of the third week a
swift-sailing pattimar made its appearance.
“I was present when my master took leave of the Superior, and an
affecting sight it was; the fervour with which he kissed the hand of
his ‘second mother,’ his ‘own dear sister’s future protectress.’ How
often he promised to return from Bombay, immediately that the necessary
preparations were made! how carefully he noted down the many little
commissions entrusted to him! And, how naturally his eyes moistened as,
receiving the benediction, he withdrew from the presence of the reverend
ladies!
“But that same pattimar was never intended for Bombay; I knew THAT!
“My master and I immediately packed up everything. Before sunset all the
baggage and servants were sent on board, with the exception of myself,
who was ordered to sit under the trees on the side of the wharf, and
an Affghan scoundrel, who went out walking with the Sahib about eleven
o’clock that night. The two started, in native dresses, with their
turbans concealing all but the parts about their eyes; both carried naked
knives, long and bright enough to make one shake with fear, tucked under
their arms, with dark lanterns in their hands. My master’s face—as usual
when he went upon such expeditions—was blackened, and with all respect,
speaking in your presence, I never saw an English gentleman look more
like a Mussulman thief!”
“But why make such preparations against a house full of unprotected
women?”
“Because, Sahib,” replied Salvador, “at night there are always some men
about the nunnery. The knives, however, were only in case of an accident;
for, as I afterwards learned, the Latin professor had mixed up a little
datura[28] seed with the tobacco served out to the guards that evening.
“A little after midnight I felt a kick, and awoke. Two men hurried me on
board the pattimar, which had weighed anchor as the clock struck twelve.
Putting out her sweeps she glided down the Rio swiftly and noiselessly.
“When the drowsiness of sleep left my eyelids I observed that the two men
were my master and that ruffian Khudadad. I dared not, however, ask any
questions, as they both looked fierce as wounded tigers, though the Sahib
could not help occasionally showing a kind of smile. They went to the
head of the boat, and engaged in deep conversation, through the medium of
some tongue to me unknown; and it was not before we had passed under the
guns of the Castello, and were dancing merrily over the blue water, that
my officer retired to his bed.
“And what became of the Latin professor?”
“The Sahib shall hear presently. In the morning I was called up for
examination, but my innocence bore me through that trial safely. My
master naturally enough suspected me of having played him some trick. The
impression, however, soon wore off, and I was favoured with the following
detail of his night’s adventure.
“Exactly as the bell struck twelve, my Sahib and his cut-throat had
taken their stand outside the little door leading into the back-garden.
According to agreement previously made, one of them began to bark like
a jackal, while the other responded regularly with the barking of a
watch-dog. After some minutes spent in this exercise they carefully
opened the door with a false key, stole through the cloisters, having
previously forced the lock of the grating with their daggers, and made
their way towards the room where the Latin professor slept. But my
master, in the hurry of the moment, took the wrong turning, and found
himself in the chamber of the sub-prioress, whose sleeping form was
instantly raised, embraced, and borne off in triumph by the exulting
Khudadad.
“My officer lingered for a few minutes to ascertain that all was right.
He then crept out of the room, closed the door outside, passed through
the garden, carefully locked the gate, whose key he threw away, and ran
towards the place where he had appointed to meet Khudadad, and his lovely
burthen. But imagine his horror and disgust when, instead of the expected
large black eyes and the pretty little rosebud of a mouth, a pair of
rolling yellow balls glared fearfully in his face, and two big black
lips, at first shut with terror, began to shout and scream and abuse him
with all their might.
“‘Khudadad, we have eaten filth,’ said my master, ‘how are we to lay this
she-devil?’
“‘Cut her throat?’ replied the ruffian.
“‘No, that won’t do. Pinion her arms, gag her with your handkerchief, and
leave her—we must be off instantly.’
“So they came on board, and we set sail as I recounted to your honour.”
“But why didn’t your master, when he found out his mistake, return for
the Latin professor?”
“Have I not told the Sahib that the key of the garden-gate had been
thrown away, the walls cannot be scaled, and all the doors are bolted and
barred every night as carefully as if a thousand prisoners were behind
them?”
* * * * *
The population of Goa is composed of three heterogeneous elements,
namely, pure Portuguese, black Christians, and the heathenry. A short
description of each order will, perhaps, be acceptable to the reader.
The European portion of Goanese society may be subdivided into two
distinct parts—the officials, who visit India on their tour of service,
and the white families settled in the country. The former must leave
Portugal for three years; and if in the army get a step by so doing.
At the same time as, unlike ourselves, they derive no increase of pay
from the expatriation, their return home is looked forward to with great
impatience. Their existence in the East must be one of endurance. They
complain bitterly of their want of friends, the disagreeable state
of society, and the dull stagnant life they are compelled to lead.
They despise their dark brethren, and consider them uncouth in manner,
destitute of _usage_ in society, and deficient in honour, courage,[29]
and manliness. The despised retort by asserting that the white Portuguese
are licentious, ill-informed, haughty, and reserved. No better proof
of how utterly the attempt to promote cordiality between the European
and the Asiatic by a system of intermarriage and equality of rights
has failed in practice can be adduced, than the utter contempt in
which the former holds the latter at Goa. No Anglo-Indian Nabob sixty
years ago ever thought less of a “nigger” than a Portuguese officer
now does. But as there is perfect equality, political[30] as well as
social, between the two colours, the “whites,” though reduced to the
level of the herd, hold aloof from it; and the “blacks” feel able to
associate with those who despise them but do so rarely and unwillingly.
Few open signs of dislike appear to the unpractised observer in the
hollow politeness always paraded whenever the two parties meet; but when
a Portuguese gentleman becomes sufficiently intimate with a stranger
to be communicative, his first political diatribe is directed against
his dark fellow-subjects. We were assured by a high authority that the
native members of a court-martial, if preponderating, would certainly
find a European guilty, whether rightly or wrongly, _n’importe_. The
same gentleman, when asked which method of dealing with the natives he
preferred, Albuquerque’s or that of Leadenhall Street, unhesitatingly
replied, “the latter, as it is better to keep one’s enemies out of
doors.” How like the remark made to Sir A. Burnes by Runjeet Singh, the
crafty old politician of Northern India.
The reader may remember that it was Albuquerque[31] who advocated
marriages between the European settlers and the natives of India.
However reasonable it might have been to expect the amalgamation of the
races in the persons of their descendants, experience and stern facts
condemn the measure as a most delusive and treacherous political day
dream. It has lost the Portuguese almost everything in Africa as well as
Asia. May Heaven preserve our rulers from following their example! In our
humble opinion, to tolerate it is far too liberal a measure to be a safe
one.
The white families settled in the country were formerly called Castissos
to distinguish them from Reinols. In appearance there is little
difference between them; the former are somewhat less robust than the
latter, but both are equally pallid and sickly-looking—they dress alike,
and allow the beard and mustachios[32] to grow. This colonist class is
neither a numerous nor an influential one. As soon as intermarriage
with the older settlers takes place the descendants become Mestici—in
plain English, mongrels. The flattering term is occasionally applied to
a white family which has been settled in the country for more than one
generation, “for although,” say the Goanese, “there is no mixture of
blood, still there has been one of air or climate, which comes to the
same thing.” Owing to want of means, the expense of passage, and the
unsettled state of the home country, children are very seldom sent to
Portugal for education. They presently degenerate, from the slow but sure
effects of a debilitating climate, and its concomitant evils, inertness,
and want of excitement. Habituated from infancy to utter idleness, and
reared up to consider the _far niente_ their _summum bonum_, they have
neither the will nor the power of active exertion in after years.
There is little wealth among the classes above described. Rich families
are rare, landed property is by no means valuable; salaries small;[33]
and in so cheap a country as Goa anything beyond 200_l._ or 300_l._
a-year would be useless. Entertainments are not common; a ball every six
months at Government House, a few dinner parties, and an occasional
_soirée_ or _nautch_, make up the list of gaieties. In the different
little villages where the government _employés_ reside, once a week there
is quadrilling and waltzing, _à l’antique_, some flirting, and a great
deal of smoking in the verandah with the ladies, who are, generally
speaking, European. Gambling is uncommon; high play unknown. The theatre
is closed as if never to open again. No serenades float upon the evening
gale, the _guitarra_ hangs dusty and worm-eaten against the wall, and
the _cicisbeo_ is known only by name. Intrigue does not show itself so
flauntingly as in Italy, and other parts of Southern Europe. Scandal,
however, is as plentiful as it always is in a limited circle of idle
society. The stranger who visits Goa, persuaded that he is to meet with
the freedom of manners and love of pleasure which distinguish the people
of the Continent, will find himself grievously mistaken. The priesthood
is numerous, and still influential, if not powerful. The fair sex has not
much liberty here, and their natural protectors are jealous as jailers.
The ancient Portuguese _costume de dame_, a plain linen cap, long white
waistcoat, with ponderous rosary slung over it, thick striped and
coloured petticoat, and, out of doors, a huge white, yellow, blue, or
black calico sheet, muffling the whole figure—is now confined to the
poor—the ladies dress according to the Parisian fashions. As, however,
steamers and the overland route have hitherto done little for Goa,
there is considerable grotesqueness to be observed in the garments of
the higher as well as the lower orders. The usual mode of life among
the higher orders is as follows:—They rise early, take a cold bath, and
make a light breakfast at some time between seven and nine. This is
followed by a dinner, usually at two; it is a heavy meal of bread, meat,
soup, fish, sweetmeats, and fruits, all served up at the same time, in
admirable confusion. There are two descriptions of wine, in general
use; the _tinto_ and _branco_,[34] both imported from Portugal. About
five in the evening some take tea and biscuits, after awaking from the
siesta and bathing; a stroll at sunset is then indulged in, and the
day concludes with a supper of fish, rice, and curry. Considering the
little exercise in vogue, the quantity of food consumed is wonderful. The
Goanese smoke all day, ladies as well as gentlemen; but cheroots, cigars,
and the hookah are too expensive to be common. A pinch of Virginia
or Maryland, uncomfortably wrapped up in a dried plantain leaf, and
called a _cannudo_, is here the poor succedaneum for the charming little
_cigarita_ of Spain. The talented author of a “Peep at Polynesian Life”
assures us, that, “strange as it may seem, there is nothing in which a
young and beautiful female appears to more advantage than in the act
of smoking.” We are positive that nothing is more shocking than to see
a Goanese lady handling her _biree_,[35] except to hear the peculiarly
elaborate way in which she ejects saliva when enjoying her weed.
The reader who knows anything of India will at once perceive the
difference between English and Portuguese life in the East. The former
is stormy from perpetual motion, the latter stagnant with long-continued
repose. Our eternal “knocking about” tells upon us sooner or later. A
Portuguese lieutenant is often greyheaded before he gets his company;
whereas some of our captains have scarcely a hair upon their chins. But
the former eats much and drinks little, smokes a pinch of tobacco instead
of Manillas, marries early, has a good roof over his head, and, above
all things, knows not what marching and counter-marching mean. He never
rides, seldom shoots, cannot hunt, and ignores mess tiffins and guest
nights. No wonder that he neither receives nor gives promotion.
An entertainment at the house of a Goanese noble presents a curious
contrast to the semi-barbarous magnificence of our Anglo-Indian “doings.”
In the one as much money as possible is lavished in the worst way
imaginable; the other makes all the display which taste, economy, and
regard for effect combined produce. The balls given at the palace are,
probably, the prettiest sights of the kind in Western India. There is
a variety of costumes, which if not individually admirable, make up
an effective _tout ensemble_; even the dark faces, in uniforms and
ball dresses, tend to variegate and diversify the scene. The bands are
better than the generality of our military musicians, European as well
as Native, and the dancing, such as it is, much more spirited. For the
profusion of refreshments,—the ices, champagne, and second suppers, which
render a Bombay ball so pernicious a thing in more ways than one, here we
look in vain.
The dinner parties resemble the other entertainments in economy and
taste; the table is decorated, as in Italy, with handsome China vases,
containing bouquets, fruits, and sweetmeats, which remain there all
the time. Amongst the higher classes the cookery is all in the modified
French style common to the South of Europe. The wines are the white
and red _vins ordinaires_ of Portugal; sometimes a bottle of port, or
a little bitter beer from Bombay, are placed upon the table. The great
annoyance of every grand dinner is the long succession of speeches which
concludes it. A most wearisome recreation it is, certainly, when people
have nothing to do but to propose each other’s healths in long orations,
garnished with as many facetious or flattering platitudes as possible.
After each speech all rise up, and with loud “vivas” wave their glasses,
and drain a few drops in honour of the accomplished _caballero_ last
lauded. The language used is Portuguese; on the rare occasions when the
person addressed or alluded to is a stranger, then, probably, Lusitanian
French will make its appearance. We modestly suggest to any reader who
may find himself in such predicament the advisability of imitating our
example.
On one occasion after enduring half an hour’s encomium delivered in a
semi-intelligible dialect of Parisian, we rose to return thanks, and
for that purpose selecting the English language, we launched into that
inexhaustible theme for declamation, the glories of the Portuguese
eastern empire, beginning at De Gama, and ending with his Excellency
the Governor-General of all the Indies, who was sitting hard by. It is
needless to say that our oratory excited much admiration, the more,
perhaps, as no one understood it. The happiest results ensued—during our
stay at Goa we never were urged to address the company again.