It was a bright morning when the Portuguese vessel on which Amine was on
board entered into the bay and roadstead of Goa. Goa was then at its
zenith,--a proud, luxurious, superb, wealthy city--the capital of the
East--a city of palaces whose viceroy reigned supreme. As they
approached the river, the two mouths of which form the island upon which
Goa is built, the passengers were all on deck; and the Portuguese
captain, who had often been there, pointed out to Amine the most
remarkable buildings. When they had passed the forts, they entered the
river, the whole line of whose banks were covered with the country seats
of the nobility and hidalgos--splendid buildings embosomed in groves of
orange-trees, whose perfume scented the air.
"There, signora, is the country palace of the viceroy," said the
captain, pointing to a building which covered nearly three acres of
ground.
The ship sailed on until they arrived nearly abreast of the town, when
Amine's eyes were directed to the lofty spires of the churches, and
other public edifices; for Amine had seen but little of cities during
her life, as may be perceived when her history is recollected.
"That is the Jesuits' church, with their establishment," said the
captain, pointing to a magnificent pile. "In the church now opening
upon us lie the canonised bones of the celebrated Saint Francisco, who
sacrificed his life in his zeal for the propagation of the Gospel in
these countries."
"I have heard of him from Father Mathias," replied Amine; "but what
building is that?"
"The Augustine convent; and the other, to the right, is the Dominican."
"Splendid, indeed!" observed Amine.
"The building you see now, on the water-side, is the viceroy's palace;
that to the right again, is the convent of the barefooted Carmelites;
yon lofty spire is the cathedral of St. Catherine; and that beautiful
and light piece of architecture is the church of our Lady of Pity. You
observe there a building with a dome, rising behind the viceroy's
palace?"
"I do," replied Amine.
"That is the Holy Inquisition."
Although Amine had heard Philip speak of the Inquisition, she knew
little about its properties; but a sudden tremor passed through her
frame as the name was mentioned, which she could not herself account
for.
"Now we open upon the viceroy's palace, and you perceive what a
beautiful building it is," continued the captain. "That large pile, a
little above it, is the Custom-house, abreast of which we shall come to
an anchor. I must leave you now, signora."
A few minutes afterwards the ship anchored opposite the Custom-house.
The captain and passengers went on shore with the exception of Amine,
who remained in the vessel while Father Mathias went in search of an
eligible place of abode.
The next morning the priest returned on board the ship, with the
intelligence that he had obtained a reception for Amine in the Ursuline
convent, the abbess of which establishment he was acquainted with; and
before Amine went on shore, he cautioned her that the lady-abbess was a
strict woman, and would be pleased if she conformed as much as possible
to the rules of the convent; that this convent only received young
persons of the highest and most wealthy families, and he trusted that
she would be happy there. He also promised to call upon her, and talk
upon those subjects so dear to his heart, and so necessary to her
salvation. The earnestness and kindness with which the old man spoke
melted Amine to tears; and the holy father quitted her side to go down
and collect her baggage with a warmth of feeling towards her which he
had seldom felt before, and with greater hopes than ever that his
endeavours to convert her would not ultimately be thrown away.
"He is a good man," thought Amine, as she descended--and Amine was
right. Father Mathias was a good man; but, like all men, he was not
perfect. A zealot in the cause of his religion, he would have
cheerfully sacrificed his life as a martyr; but if opposed or thwarted
in his views, he could then be cruel and unjust.
Father Mathias had many reasons for placing Amine in the Ursuline
convent. He felt bound to offer her that protection which he had so
long received under her roof; he wished her to be under the surveillance
of the abbess, for he could not help imagining, although he had no
proof, that she was still essaying or practising forbidden arts. He did
not state this to the abbess, as he felt it would be unjust to raise
suspicions; but he represented Amine as one who would do honour to their
faith to which she was not yet quite converted. The very idea of
effecting a conversion is to the tenants of a convent an object of
surpassing interest, and the abbess was much better pleased to receive
one who required her counsels and persuasions, than a really pious
Christian, who would give her no trouble. Amine went on shore with
Father Mathias; she refused the palanquin which had been prepared for
her, and walked up to the convent. They landed between the Custom-house
and the viceroy's palace, passed through the large square behind it, and
then went up the Strada Diretta, or straight street, which led up to the
Church of Pity, near to which the convent is situated. This street is
the finest in Goa, and is called Strada Diretta from the singular fact
that almost all the streets in Goa are quadrants or segments of circles.
Amine was astonished. The houses were of stone, lofty and massive; at
each story was thrown out a balcony of marble, elaborately carved; and
over each door were the arms of the nobility, or hidalgos, to whom the
houses belonged. The square behind the palace and the wide streets were
filled with living beings; elephants with gorgeous trappings; led or
mounted horses in superb housings; palanquins, carried by natives in
splendid liveries; running footmen; syces; every variety of nation, from
the proud Portuguese to the half-covered native; Mussulmans, Arabs,
Hindoos, Armenians; officers and soldiers in their uniforms, all crowded
and thronged together,--all was bustle and motion. Such was the wealth,
the splendour, and luxury of the proud city of Goa--the Empress of the
East at the time we are now describing.
In half an hour they forced their way through the crowd, and arrived at
the convent, where Amine was well received by the abbess; and, after a
few minutes' conversation, Father Mathias took his leave; upon which the
abbess immediately set about her task of conversion. The first thing
she did was to order some dried sweetmeats--not a bad beginning, as they
were palatable; but as she happened to be very ignorant, and
unaccustomed to theological disputes, her subsequent arguments did not
go down as well as the fruit. After a rambling discourse of about an
hour, the old lady felt tired, and felt as if she had done wonders.
Amine was then introduced to the nuns, most of whom were young, and all
of good family. Her dormitory was shown to her; and expressing a wish
to be alone, she was followed into her chamber by only sixteen of them,
which was about as many as the chamber could well hold.
We must pass over the two months during which Amine remained in the
convent. Father Mathias had taken every step to ascertain if her
husband had been saved upon any of the islands which were under the
Portuguese dominions, but could gain no information. Amine was soon
weary of the convent; she was persecuted by the harangues of the old
abbess, but more disgusted at the conduct and conversation of the nuns.
They all had secrets to confide to her--secrets which had been confided
to the whole convent before: such secrets, such stories, so different
from Amine's chaste ideas--such impurity of thought--that Amine was
disgusted at them. But how could it be otherwise? The poor creatures
had been taken from the world in the full bloom of youth, under a
ripening sun, and had been immured in this unnatural manner to gratify
the avarice and pride of their families. Its inmates being wholly
composed of the best families, the rules of this convent were not so
strict as others; licences were given--greater licences were taken--and
Amine, to her surprise, found that in this society, devoted to Heaven,
there were exhibited more of the bad passions of human nature than she
had before met with. Constantly watched, never allowed a moment to
herself, her existence became unbearable; and, after three months, she
requested Father Mathias would find her some other place of refuge,
telling him frankly that her residence in that place was not very likely
to assist her conversion to the tenets of his faith. Father Mathias
fully comprehended her, but replied, "I have no means."
"Here are means," replied Amine, taking the diamond ring from her
finger. "This is worth eight hundred ducats in our country; here, I
know not how much."
Father Mathias took the ring. "I will call upon you to-morrow morning,
and let you know what I have done. I shall acquaint the lady abbess
that you are going to your husband, for it would not be safe to let her
suppose that you have reasons for quitting the convent. I have heard
what you state mentioned before, but have treated it as scandal: but
you, I know, are incapable of falsehood."
The next day Father Mathias returned, and had an interview with the
abbess, who after a time sent for Amine, and told her that it was
necessary that she should leave the convent. She consoled her as well
as she could at leaving such a happy place, sent for some sweetmeats to
make the parting less trying, gave her a blessing, and made her over to
Father Mathias; who, when they were alone, informed Amine "that he had
disposed of the ring for eighteen hundred dollars, and had procured
apartments for her in the house of a widow lady, with whom she was to
board."
Taking leave of the nuns, Amine quitted the convent with Father Mathias,
and was soon installed in her new apartments, in a house which formed
part of a spacious square called the Terra di Sabaio. After the
introduction to her hostess, Father Mathias left her. Amine found her
apartments fronting the square, airy and commodious. The landlady, who
had escorted her to view them, not having left her, she inquired "what
large church that was on the other side of the square?"
"It is the Ascension," replied the lady; "the music is very fine there;
we will go and hear it to-morrow, if you please."
"And that massive building in face of us?"
"That is the Holy Inquisition," said the widow, crossing herself.
Amine again started, she knew not why. "Is that your child?" said
Amine, as a boy of about twelve years old entered the room.
"Yes," replied the widow, "the only one that is left me. May God
preserve him." The boy was handsome and intelligent, and Amine, for her
own reasons, did everything she could to make friends with him, and was
successful.