However a propensity to evil may be inherent in human nature, it is
impossible to conceive an idea of abstract wickedness, uninfluenced by
some powerful passion, and existing without any decided reference to
some object we wish to attain, or some obstacle we desire to vanquish.
The Pundit of Lahore had seen the Christian Missionary dragged in chains
to the dungeon of the Inquisition, and the Priestess of Cashmire
delivered up to the tyranny of a fanaticism no less dreadful in the
exercise of its power than that from which she had escaped. He
considered himself as the remote cause of their mutual sufferings:
equally incredulous as to the truth or influence of their respective
doctrines, when opposed to the feelings of nature, he had felt a kind of
triumph in putting their boasted infallibility to the test, which
deserted him the moment he discovered the fatal consequences which arose
from the success of his design. Unprincipled and corrupt to a certain
degree, when a dereliction from right favoured the views of his
interests, or established the justness of his opinions, (for the human
mind, whether it credulously bends to imposition, or boldly resists in
scepticism, can never wholly relinquish the intolerance of self-love,)
he was yet naturally humane and benevolent; and the moment he
discovered the fate which awaited the Missionary and his proselyte, he
determined to use every exertion to avert it.
Free at all times of admittance to the Viceroy’s gardens, he continued
to wander incessantly beneath the wall which divided them from the
grounds of the convent. He had caught a few notes of Luxima’s vesper
song, and recognized the air of an Indian hymn, sung upon certain
festivals by the priestesses of _Brahma_; he ventured therefore to scale
the wall, veiled by the obscurity of a dark night; and by means of a
ladder of ropes, he finally effected the escape of the Neophyte: he
conveyed her to his own lodging in a retired part of the city, and gave
her up to the care of a Jewess, who lived with him, and who, though
outwardly professing Christianity from fear and policy, hated equally
the Christians and the Pagans; love, however, secured her fealty to her
protector, to whom she was ardently devoted; and pity secured her
fidelity to the trust he had committed to her care; for the unfortunate
Indian was now alike condemned by the religion of truth and the
superstition of error--driven with shame and obloquy from the altar of
Brahma, her life had become forfeit by the laws of the Inquisition as a
relapsed Christian.[16] It was from the order issued from the Holy
Office that the Pundit learned the latter circumstances. It was from
the lips of the apostate that he learned she had forfeited cast,
according to all the awful rites of Braminical excommunication. It was
therefore impossible to restore her to her own cast, and difficult to
preserve her from the power of her new religion; and he found with
regret and dismay, that the efforts he had made to save her, might but
ultimately tend to her destruction;--he now considered that his life was
involved in hers, and that his own preservation depended upon her
concealment. His first thought was to remove her from Goa: but the
disorder of her mind had fallen upon her constitution, and she was
seized with the _mordechi_[17]--that disease so melancholy, and so
dangerous, in those burning climes, where exercise, the sole preventive,
is impossible. The ill success of his endeavours hitherto, the
impossibility of gaining admittance into the interior of the Santa Casa,
destroyed the hopes and checked the intentions of the Pundit, which
pointed to the liberation of the Missionary; and the mystery which hung
over the fate of a man for whom all Goa was interested, no human power
could fathom. But the festival upon which the next _auto da fè_ was to
be celebrated was fast approaching; and the result of those trials, the
accused had sustained at the _messa di santo officio_, could at that
period only be ascertained.
The day had already passed, upon which the ministers of the
Inquisition, preceded by their banners, marched from the palace of the
Holy Office to the _Campo Santo_, or place of execution, and there by
sound of trumpet proclaimed the day and hour on which the _solemn act_
of faith was to be celebrated.
That awful day at length arrived--its dawn, that beamed so fearfully to
many, was ushered in by the deep toll of the great bell of the
Cathedral; a multitude of persons, of every age and sex, Christians,
Pagans, Jews, and Mussulmen, filled the streets, and occupied the roofs,
the balconies and windows of the houses, to see the procession pass
through the principal parts of the city. The awful ceremony at length
commenced--the procession was led by the Dominicans, bearing before
them a white cross; the scarlet standard of the Inquisition, on which
the image of the founder was represented armed with a sword, preceded a
band of the _familiars of the Holy Office_, dressed in black robes, the
last of whom bore a green cross, covered with black crape; six penitents
of the _San Benito_ who had escaped death, and were to be sent to the
galleys, each conducted by a familiar, bearing the standard of St.
Andrew, succeeded, and were followed by the penitents of the _Fuego
Revolto_, habited in grey scapulars, painted with reversed flames; then
followed some persons bearing the effigies of those who had died in
prison, and whose bones were also borne in coffins; the victims
condemned to death appeared the last of the awful train; they were
preceded by the _Alcaid_ of the Inquisition, each accompanied on either
side by two officers of the Holy Office, and followed by an officiating
priest: a corps of _Halberdeens_, or guards of the Inquisition, closed
the procession. In this order it reached the church of St. Dominick,
destined for the celebration of _the act of faith_. On either side of
the great altar, which was covered with black cloth, were erected two
thrones; that on the right was occupied by the Grand Inquisitor; that on
the left by the Viceroy and his court: each person having assumed the
place destined for him, two Dominicans ascended a pulpit, and read
aloud, alternately, the sentences of the guilty, the nature of their
crimes, and the species of punishment to which they were condemned.
While this awful ceremony took place, each unfortunate, as his sentence
was pronounced, was led to the foot of the altar by the Alcaid, where he
knelt to receive it. Last of this melancholy band, appeared the
_Apostolic Nuncio of India_. Hitherto no torture had forced from him a
confession of crimes of which he was guiltless; but the power of his
enemies had prevailed, and his innocence was not proof against the
testimony of his interested accusers. Summoned to approach the altar, he
advanced with the dignity of a self-devoted martyr to receive his
sentence; firm alike in look and motion, as though created thing “nought
valued he or shunned,” he knew his doom to be irrevocable, and met it
unappalled.
Man was now to him an atom, and earth a speck! the collective force of
his mind was directed to _one sole_ object, but that object
was--_eternity!_ The struggle between the mortal and immortal being was
over; passion no longer gave to his imagination the vision of its
disappointed desires, nor love the seductive images of its frail
enjoyment: the ambition of religious zeal, and the blandishments of
tender emotion, no longer influenced a soul which was, in so short a
space of time, to be summoned before the tribunal of its God.
Less awed than aweful, he stood at the foot of the judgment seat of his
earthly umpire, and heard unshrinking and unmoved his accusation
publicly pronounced; but when to the sin of heresy, and breach of
monastic vow, was added the _seduction of a Neophyte_, then _nature_ for
a moment asserted her rights, and claimed the revival of her almost
extinguished power--his spirit again descended to earth, his heart with
a resistless impulsion opened to the influence of human feeling! to the
recollection of human ties! and Luxima, even at the altar’s feet, rushed
to his memory in all her loveliness, and all her affliction; innocent
and persecuted, abandoned and despairing: then, the firmness of his look
and mind alike deserted him--his countenance became convulsed--his frame
shook--an agonizing solicitude for the hapless cause of his death
disputed with Heaven the last thoughts of his life--and his head dropped
upon the missal on which his hand was spread according to the form of
the ceremony:--but when closely following the enumeration of his crimes,
he heard pronounced the aweful sentence of a dreadful and _an immediate
death_, then the inspired fortitude of the martyr re-called the
wandering feelings of the man, steadied the vibration of nerves, which
love, for the last time, had taught to thrill, strengthened the weakness
of the fainting heart, and restored to the troubled spirit the soothing
peace of holy resignation and religious hope.
The fate of those condemned to the flames was at last announced--the
officers of the secular tribunal came forward to seize the victims of a
cruel and inexorable bigotry; and the procession increased by the
Viceroy, and the Grand Inquisitor, with their respective courts,
proceeded to the place of execution.--It was a square, one side of which
opened to the sea; the three others were composed of the houses of the
Spanish grandees, before which a covered platform was erected, for the
_Grand Inquisitor_ and the Viceroy; in the centre of the square, three
piles of faggots were erected, at a certain distance from each other,
one of which was already slowly kindling; the air was still, and
breathed the balmy softness of an eastern evening; the sun, something
shorn of his beams, was setting in mild glory, and threw a saffron hue
on the luxuriant woods which skirt the beautiful bay of Goa--not a
ripple disturbed the bosom of the deep; every thing in the natural scene
declared the beneficent intentions of the Deity, every thing in the
human spectacle declared the perversion of man from the decrees of his
Creator. It was on such an evening as this, that the Indian Priestess
witnessed the dreadful act of her excommunication; the heavens smiled
then, as now; and man, the minister of error, was then, as now, cruel
and unjust,--substituting malevolence for mercy, and the horrors of a
fanatical superstition for the blessed peace and loving kindness of true
religion.
The secular judges had already taken their seats on the platform; the
Grand Inquisitor and the Viceroy had placed themselves beneath their
respective canopies; the persons who composed the procession were ranged
according to their offices and orders,--all but the three unhappy
persons condemned to death; they alone were led into the centre of the
square, each accompanied by a familiar of the Inquisition, and a
confessor. The condemned consisted of two relapsed Indians, and _the
Apostolic Nuncio_ of _India_. The pile designed for him, was
distinguished by a _standard_[18] on which, as was the custom in such
cases, an inscription was written, intimating, “that he was to be burnt
as a _convicted Heretic who refused to confess his crime_!”
The timid Indians, who, in the zeal and enthusiasm of their own
religion, might have joyously and voluntarily sought the death, they
now met with horror, hung back, shuddering and weeping in agony and
despair, endeavouring to defer their inevitable sufferings by uttering
incoherent prayers and useless supplications to the priests who attended
them. The Christian Missionary, who it was intended should suffer first,
alone walked firmly up to the pile, and while the martyr light flashed
on his countenance, he read unmoved the inscription imprinted on the
standard of death; which was so soon to wave over his ashes--then,
withdrawing a little on one side, he knelt at the feet of his confessor;
the last appeal from earth to heaven was now made; he arose with a
serene look; the officers of the bow-string advanced to lead him towards
the pile: the silence which belongs to death, reigned on every side;
thousands of persons were present; yet the melancholy breeze that swept,
at intervals, over the ocean, and died away in sighs, was distinctly
heard. Nature was touched on the master-spring of emotion, and betrayed
in the looks of the multitude, feelings of horror, of pity, and of
admiration, which the bigoted vigilance of an inhuman zeal would in vain
have sought to suppress.
In this aweful interval, while the presiding officers of death were
preparing to bind their victim to the stake, a form scarcely human,
darting with the velocity of lightning through the multitude, reached
the foot of the pile, and stood before it, in a grand and aspiring
attitude; the deep red flame of the slowly kindling fire shone through
a transparent drapery which flowed in loose folds from the bosom of the
seeming vision, and tinged with golden hues, those long dishevelled
tresses, which streamed like the rays of a meteor on the air;--thus
bright and aerial as it stood, it looked like a spirit sent from Heaven
in the aweful moment of dissolution to cheer and to convey to the
regions of the blessed, the soul which would soon arise, pure from the
ordeal of earthly suffering.
The sudden appearance of the singular phantom struck the imagination of
the credulous and awed multitude with superstitious wonder.--Even the
ministers of death stood for a moment, suspended in the execution of
their dreadful office. The Christians fixed their eyes upon the
_cross_, which glittered on a bosom whose beauty scarcely seemed of
mortal mould, and deemed themselves the witnesses of a miracle, wrought
for the salvation of a persecuted martyr, whose innocence was asserted
by the firmness and fortitude with which he met a dreadful death.
The Hindoos gazed upon the sacred impress of _Brahma_, marked on the
brow of his consecrated offspring; and beheld the fancied _herald_ of
the tenth _Avater_, announcing vengeance to the enemies of their
religion. The condemned victim, still confined in the grasp of the
officers of the bow-string, with eyes starting from their sockets, saw
only the _unfortunate_ he had made--the creature he adored--his
disciple!--his mistress!--the Pagan priestess--the Christian
Neophyte--his still lovely, though much changed Luxima. A cry of despair
escaped from his bursting heart; and in the madness of the moment, he
uttered aloud her name. Luxima, whose eyes and hands had been hitherto
raised to Heaven, while she murmured the _Gayatra_, pronounced by the
Indian women before their voluntary immolation, now looked wildly round
her, and, catching a glimpse of the Missionary’s figure, through the
waving of the flames, behind which he struggled in the hands of his
guards, she shrieked, and in a voice scarcely human, exclaimed, “My
beloved, I come!--_Brahma_ receive and eternally unite our
spirits!”--She sprang upon the pile: the fire, which had only kindled in
that point where she stood, caught the light drapery of her robe--a
dreadful death assailed her--the multitude shouted in horrid frenzy--the
Missionary rushed forward--no force opposed to it, could resist the
energy of madness, which nerved his powerful arm--he snatched the victim
from a fate he sought not himself to avoid--he held her to his
heart--the flames of her robe were extinguished in his close
embrace;--he looked round him with a dignified and triumphant air--the
officers of the Inquisition, called on by their superiors, who now
descended from the platforms, sprang forward to seize him:--for a
moment, the timid multitude were _still_ as the pause of a brooding
storm.--Luxima clung round the neck of her deliverer--the Missionary,
with a supernatural strength, warded off the efforts of those who would
have torn her from him--the hand of fanaticism, impatient for its
victim, aimed a dagger at his heart; its point was received in the bosom
of the Indian;--she shrieked,--and called upon “Brahma!”--Brahma!
Brahma! was re-echoed on every side. A sudden impulse was given to
feelings long suppressed:--the timid spirits of the Hindoos rallied to
an event which touched their hearts, and roused them from their lethargy
of despair;--the sufferings, the oppression they had so long endured,
seemed now epitomized before their eyes, in the person of their
celebrated and distinguished Prophetess--they believed it was their god
who addressed them from her lips--they rushed forward with a hideous
cry, to rescue his priestess--and to avenge the long slighted cause of
their religion, and their freedom;--they fell with fury on the
Christians, they rushed upon the cowardly guards of the Inquisition, who
let fall their arms, and fled in dismay.
Their religious enthusiasm kindling their human passions, their rage
became at once inflamed and sanctified by their superstitious zeal. Some
seized the prostrate arms of the fugitives, others dealt round a rapid
destruction by fire; they scattered the blazing faggots, and, snatching
the burning brands from the pile, they set on fire the light materials
of which the balconies, the verandahs, and platforms were composed, till
all appeared one horrid and entire conflagration. The Spanish soldiers
now came rushing down from the garrison upon the insurgents,--the
native troops, almost in the same moment, joined their compatriots--the
engagement became fierce and general--a promiscuous carnage ensued--the
Spaniards fought as mercenaries, with skill and coolness; the Indians as
enthusiasts, for their religion and their liberty, with an uncurbed
impetuosity; the conflict was long and unequal; the Hindoos were
defeated; but the Christians purchased the victory of the day by losses
which almost rendered their conquest a defeat.
CONCLUSION.
In the multitude who witnessed the aweful ceremony of the _auto da fè_,
in the church of St. Dominick, stood the Pundit of Lahore; and he heard
with horror the sentence of death pronounced against the Christian
Missionary. Considering himself as the remote cause of his destruction,
he was overwhelmed by compassion and remorse--aware of the ripeness of
the Indians to a revolt, he determined on exciting them to a rescue of
their compatriots at the place of execution; he knew them prompt to
receive every impression which came through the medium of their senses,
and connected with the popular prejudices of their religion; when he
beheld them following, with sullen looks, the slow march of the
procession, to witness the execution of their countrymen, whom they
conceived by their obstinate abjuration of the Christian religion to
have been seduced from their ancient faith, his hopes strengthened, he
moved rapidly among them, exciting the pity of some, the horror of
others, and a principle of resistance in all: but it was to an
unforeseen accident that he owed the success of his hazardous efforts.
Of the disorder by which Luxima had been attacked, a slight delirium
only remained; her health was restored, but her mind was wandering and
unsettled; the most affecting species of mental derangement had seized
her imagination--the melancholy insanity of sorrow: she wept no tears,
she heaved no sighs--she sat still and motionless, sometimes murmuring a
Braminical hymn, sometimes a Christian prayer--sometimes talking of her
grandsire, sometimes of her lover--alternately gazing on the muntras she
had received from one, and the cross that had been given her by the
other.
On the day of the _auto da fè_, she sat, as was her custom since her
recovery, behind the gauze blind of the casement of the little apartment
in which she was confined; she beheld the procession moving beneath it
with a fixed and vacant eye, until a form presented itself before her,
which struck like light from heaven on her darkened mind; she beheld the
friend of her soul; love and reason returned together; intelligence
revived to the influence of affection--she felt, and thought, and
acted--whatever were his fate, she resolved to share it:--she was alone,
her door was not fastened, she passed it unobserved, she darted through
the little vestibule which opened to the street; the procession had
turned into another, but the street was still crowded--so much so, that
even her singular appearance was unobserved; terrified and bewildered,
she flew down an avenue that led to the sea, either because it was empty
and silent, or that her reason was again lost, and she was unconscious
whither she went, till chance brought her into the “square of
execution!”--she saw the smoke of the piles rising above the heads of
the multitude--in every thing she beheld, she saw a spectacle similar to
that which the self-immolation of the Brahmin women presents:--the
images thus presented to her disordered mind, produced a natural
illusion--she believed the hour of her sacrifice and her triumph was
arrived, that she was on the point of being united in heaven to him whom
she had alone loved on earth; and when she heard her name pronounced by
his well-known voice, she rushed to the pile in all the enthusiasm of
love and of devotion. The effect produced by this singular event was
such as, under the existing feelings of the multitude, might have been
expected. During the whole of the tumult, the Pundit did not for a
moment lose sight of the Missionary, who, still clasping Luxima in his
arms, was struggling with her through the ranks of destruction; the
Pundit approaching him, seized his arm, and, while all was uproar and
confusion, dragged him towards the shore, near to which a boat, driven
in by the tide, lay undulating; assisting him to enter, and to place
Luxima within it, he put the only oar it contained into his hands;
driving it from the shore, he himself returned to the scene of action.
The Missionary, wounded in his right arm, with difficulty managed the
little bark; yet he instinctively plied the oar, and put out from the
land, without any particular object in the effort--his thoughts were
wild, his feelings were tumultuous--he was stunned, he was bewildered by
the nature and rapidity of the events which had occurred. He saw the
receding shore covered with smoke; he saw the flames ascending to
Heaven, which were to have consumed him; he heard the discharge of
firearms, and the shouts of horror and destruction: but the ocean was
calm; the horizon was bathed in hues of living light, and the horrors he
had escaped, gradually faded into distance, and sunk into silence. He
steered the boat towards the rocky peninsula which is crowned by the
fortress of Alguarda; he saw the crimson flag of the Inquisition hoisted
from its ramparts--he saw a party of soldiers descending the rocks to
gain a watch-tower, placed at the extremity of the peninsula, which
guards the mouth of the bay:--here, remote as was the place, there was
for him no asylum, no safety; he changed his course, and put out again
to sea--twilight was deepening the shadows of evening; his little bark
was no longer discernible from the land; he threw down the oar, he
raised Luxima in his arms--her eye met his--she smiled languidly on
him--he held her to his heart, and life and death were alike
forgotten--but Luxima returned not the pressure of his embrace, she had
swooned; and as he threw back her tresses, to permit the air to visit
her face more freely, he perceived that they were _steeped in blood_! He
now first discovered that the poignard he had escaped, had been received
in the bosom of the Indian: distracted, he endeavoured to bind the wound
with the scapular which had made a part of his death dress; but though
he thus stopped for the time the effusion of blood, he could not recall
her senses. He looked round him wildly, but there was no prospect of
relief; he seized her in his arms, and turned his eyes on the deep,
resolved to seek with her eternal repose in its bosom--he approached
the edge of the boat--“To what purpose,” he said, “do I struggle to
protract, for a few hours, a miserable existence? Death we cannot
escape, whatever way we turn--its horrors we may--O God! am I then
obliged to add to the sum of my frailties and my sins the crimes of
suicide and murder?” He gazed passionately on Luxima, and added,
“Destroy thee, my beloved! while yet I feel the vital throb of that
heart which has so long beaten only for me--oh, no! The Providence which
has hitherto miraculously preserved us, may still make us the object of
its care.”--He laid Luxima gently down in the boat, and, looking round
him, perceived that the moon, which was now rising, threw its light on a
peninsula of rocks, which projected from the main land to a
considerable distance into the sea--it was the light of heaven that
guided him--he seized the oar, and plying it with all the strength he
could yet collect, he soon reached the rocks, and perceived a cavern
that seemed to open to receive and shelter them.
* * * * *
The Pundit of Lahore was among the few who escaped from the destruction
he had himself excited. Pursued by a Spanish soldier, he had fled
towards the shore, and, acquainted with all the windings of the rocks,
their deep recesses and defiles, he had eluded the vigilance of the
Spaniard, and reached a cavern, which held out a prospect of temporary
safety, till his strength should be sufficiently recruited to permit him
to continue his flight towards a port, where some Bengal vessels were
stationed, which might afford him concealment, and convey him to a
distant part of India: as he approached the cavern, he looked round it
cautiously, and by the light of the moon, with which it was illuminated,
he perceived that it was already occupied--for kneeling on the earth,
the _Apostolic Nuncio_ of India, supported on his bosom the dying
_Priestess of Cashmire_. The Pundit rushed forward; “Fear not,” he said,
“be cheered, be comforted, all may yet go well: here we are safe for the
present, and when we are able to proceed, some Bengalese merchantmen who
lie at a little port at a short distance from hence, will give us
conveyance to a settlement, where the power of Spain or of the
Inquisition cannot reach us.”
The presence, the words of the Pundit were balm to the harassed spirits
of the Missionary; a faint hope beamed on his sinking heart, and he
urged him to procure some fresh water among the rocks, the only
refreshment for the suffering Indian, which the desolate and savage
place afforded. The Pundit, having sought for a large shell to contain
the water, flew in search of it; and the Missionary remained gazing upon
Luxima, who lay motionless in his arms. The presence of the Pundit
suddenly recalled to his memory the first scene of his mission; and he
again beheld in fancy the youthful priestess of mystic love, borne
triumphantly along amidst an idolizing multitude; he cast his eyes upon
the object that lay faint and speechless in his arms; and the brilliant
vision of his memory faded away, nor left upon his imagination one trace
of its former lustre or its beauty; for the image which succeeded, was
such as the _genius_ of Despair could only pourtray in its darkest mood
of gloomy creation.
In a rude and lonesome cavern, faintly lighted up by the rays of the
moon, and echoing to the moaning murmurs of the ocean’s tide, lay _that
Luxima_, who once, like the delicious shade of her native region, seemed
created only for bliss, and formed only for delight; those eyes, in
whose glance the spirit of devotion, and the enthusiasm of tenderness,
mingled their brilliancy and their softness, were now dim and beamless;
and that bosom, where love lay enthroned beneath the vestal’s veil, was
stained with the lifeblood which issued from its almost exhausted veins.
Motionless, and breathing with difficulty, and with pain, she lay in his
arms, with no faculty but that of suffering, with no sensibility but
that of pain:--he had found her like a remote and brilliant planet,
shining in lone and distant glory, illuminating, by her rays, a sphere
of harmony and peace; but she had for him deserted her _orbit_, and her
light was now nearly extinguished for ever.
When the Pundit returned, he moistened her lips with water, and chafed
her temples and her hands with the pungent herbs the surrounding rocks
supplied; and when the vital hues of life again faintly revisited her
cheek, the Missionary, as he gazed on the symptoms of returning
existence, gave himself up to feelings of suspense and anxiety, to which
despondency was almost preferable, and pressing those lips in death,
which in life he would have deemed it the risk of salvation to touch,
his soul almost mingled with that pure spirit, which seemed ready to
escape with every low-drawn sigh; and his heart offered up its silent
prayer to Heaven, that thus they might unite, and thus seek together
mercy and forgiveness at its throne. _Luxima_ revived, raised her eyes
to those which were bent in agony and fondness over her, and on her look
of suffering, and smile of sadness, beamed the ardour of a soul whose
warm, tender, and imperishable feelings were still triumphant over even
pain and death.
“Luxima!” exclaimed the Missionary, in a melancholy transport, and
pressing her to a heart which a feeble hope cheered and re-animated,
“_Luxima_, my beloved! wilt thou not struggle with death? wilt thou not
save me from the horror of knowing, that it is _for me thou_ diest? and
that what remains of my wretched existence, has been purchased at the
expence of thine? Oh! if _love_, which has led thee to death, can recall
or attach thee to life, still live, even though thou livest _for my
destruction_.” A faint glow flushed the face of the Indian, her smile
brightened, and she clung still closer to the bosom, whose throb now
replied to the palpitation of her own.
“Yes,” exclaimed the Missionary, answering the eloquence of her languid
and tender looks, “yes, dearest, and most unfortunate, our destinies are
now inseparably united! Together we have loved, together we have
resisted, together we have erred, and together we have suffered; lost
alike to the glory and the fame, which our virtues, and the conquest of
our passions, once obtained for us; alike condemned by our religions and
our countries, there now remains nothing on _earth_ for us, but each
other!--Already have we met the horrors of death, without its repose;
and the life for which thou hast offered the precious purchase of thine
own, must _now belong alone to thee_.”
Luxima raised herself in his arms, and grasping his hands, and fixing on
him her languid eyes, she articulated in a deep and tremulous voice,
“_Father!_” but, faint from bodily exhaustion and mental emotion, she
again sunk in silence on his bosom! At the plaintive sound of this
touching and well-remembered epithet, the Missionary shuddered, and the
blood froze round his sinking heart; again he heard the voice of the
proselyte, as in the shades of Cashmire he had once heard it, when pure,
and free from the taint of human frailty, he had addressed her only in
the spiritual language of an holy mission, and she had heard him with a
soul ignorant of human passion, and opening to receive that sacred
truth, to whose cause he had proved so faithless: the religion he had
offended, the zeal he had abandoned, the principles, the habits of
feeling, and of thinking, he had relinquished, all rushed in this awful
moment on his mind, and tore his conscience with penitence, and with
remorse; he saw before his eyes the retribution of his error in the
sufferings of its innocent cause; he sought to redeem what was yet
redeemable of his fault, to recall to his wandering soul the duties of
the minister of Heaven, and to put from his guilty thoughts the feelings
of the impassioned man! He sought to withdraw his attention from the
perishable woman, and to direct his efforts to the salvation of the
immortal spirit; but when again he turned his eyes on the Indian, he
perceived that hers were ardently fixed on the rosary of her idolatrous
creed, to which she pressed with devotion her cold and quivering lips,
while the crucifix which lay on her bosom was steeped in the blood she
had shed to preserve him.
This affecting combination of images so opposite and so eloquent in
their singular but natural association, struck on his heart with a force
which his reason and his zeal had no power to resist:--and the words
which religion, awakened to its duty, sent to his lips, died away in
sounds inarticulate, from the mingled emotions of horror and compassion,
of gratitude and love--and, wringing his hands, while cold drops hung
upon his brow, he exclaimed in a tone of deep and passionate affliction,
“Luxima, Luxima! are we then to be _eternally disunited_?”
Luxima replied only by a look of love, whose fond expression was the
next moment lost in the convulsive distortions of pain. Much enfeebled
by the sudden pang, a faintness, which resembled the sad torpor of
death, hung upon her frame and features; yet her eyes were still fixed
with a gaze so motionless and ardent, on the sole object of her dying
thought, that her look seemed the last look of life and love, when both
inseparably united dissolve and expire together. “Luxima,” exclaimed the
Missionary wildly, “Luxima, thou wilt not die! Thou wilt not leave me
alone on earth to bear thy innocent blood upon my head, and thy
insupportable loss for ever in my heart!--to wear out life in shame and
desolation--my hope entombed with thee--my sorrows lonely and
unparticipated--my misery keen and eternal!--Oh! no, fatal creature!
sole cause of all I have ever known of bliss or suffering, of happiness
or of despair, thou hast bound me to thee by dreadful ties; by bonds,
sealed with thy blood, indissoluble and everlasting! And if thy hour is
come, mine also is arrived, for triumphing over the fate which would
divide us; we shall _die_, as we dared _not live_--together!”
Exhausted by the force and vehemence of an emotion which had now reached
its crisis--enervated by tenderness, subdued by grief, and equally
vanquished by bodily anguish, and by the still surviving conflicts of
feeling and opinion--he sunk overpowered on the earth; and Luxima, held
up by the sympathizing Pundit, seemed to acquire force from the weakness
of her unfortunate friend, and to return from the grasp of death, that
she might restore him to life. Endeavouring to support his head in her
feeble arms, and pressing her cold cheek to his, she sought to raise and
cheer his subdued spirit, by words of hope and consolation. At the sound
of her plaintive voice, at the pressure of her soft cheek, the creeping
blood quickened its circulation in his veins, and a faint sensation of
pleasure thrilled on his exhausted nerves; he raised his head, and fixed
his eyes on her face with one of those looks of passionate fondness,
tempered by fear, and darkened by remorse, with which he had so
frequently, in happier days, contemplated that exquisite loveliness
which had first stolen between him and Heaven. Luxima still too well
understood that look, which had so often given birth to emotions, which
even approaching death had not quite annihilated; and with renovated
strength (the illusory herald of dissolution) she exclaimed--“Soul of my
life! the God whom thou adorest, did doubtless save thee from a dreadful
death, that thou mightest live for others, and still he commands thee to
bear the painful burthen of existence: yet, oh! if for others thou
_wilt not live_, live at least for _Luxima!_ and be thy beneficence to
her nation, the redemption of those faults of which for thy sake she has
been guilty!--Thy brethren will not dare to take a life, which God
himself has miraculously preserved--and when _I_ am no more, thou shalt
preach, not to the Brahmins only, but to the Christians, that the sword
of destruction, which has been this day raised between the followers of
thy faith and of mine, may be for ever sheathed! Thou wilt appear among
them as a spirit of peace, teaching mercy, and inspiring love; thou wilt
soothe away, by acts of tenderness, and words of kindness, the stubborn
prejudice which separates the mild and patient Hindu from his species;
and thou wilt check the Christian’s zeal, and bid him follow the sacred
lesson of the God he serves, who, for years beyond the Christian era,
has extended his merciful indulgence to the errors of the Hindu’s mind,
and bounteously lavished on his native soil those wondrous blessings
which first tempted the Christians to seek our happier regions. But
should thy eloquence and thy example fail, tell them my story! tell them
how I have suffered, and how even thou hast failed:--thou, for whom I
forfeited my cast, my country, and my life; for ’tis too true, that
still _more loving_ than enlightened, my ancient habits of belief clung
to my mind, thou to my _heart_: still I lived thy seeming proselyte,
that I might _still live thine_; and now _I die_ as Brahmin women _die_,
a _Hindu_ in my feelings and my faith--dying for him I loved, and
believing as my fathers have believed.”
Exhausted and faint, she drooped her head on her bosom--and the
Missionary, stiffened with horror, his human and religious feelings
alike torn and wounded, hung over her, motionless and silent. The
Pundit, dropping tears of compassion on the chilling hands he chafed,
now administered some water to the parched lips of the dying Indian, on
whose brow, the light of the moon shone resplendently. Somewhat revived
by the refreshment, she turned on him her languid but grateful eyes, and
slowly recognizing his person, a faint blush, like the first doubtful
colouring of the dawn, suffused the paleness of her cheek; she continued
to gaze earnestly on him for some moments, and a few tears, the last
she ever shed, fell from her closing eyes,--and though the springs of
life were nearly exhausted, yet her fading spirits rallied to the
recollection of _home!_ of _friends!_ of _kindred!_ and of _country!_
which the presence of a sympathizing compatriot thus painfully and
tenderly awakened--then, after a convulsive struggle between life and
death, whose shadows were gathering on her countenance, she said in a
voice scarcely audible, and in great emotion--“I owe thee much, let me
owe thee more--thou seest before thee Luxima! the Prophetess and
Brachmachira of Cashmire!--and thou wast haply sent by the interposition
of Providence to receive her last words, and to be the testimony to her
people of her innocence; and when thou shalt return to the blessed
paradise of her nativity, thou wilt say--‘that having gathered _a dark
spotted flower in the garden of love_, she expiates her error by the
loss of her life; that her disobedience to the forms of her religion and
the laws of her country, was punished by days of suffering, and by an
untimely death; yet that her _soul_ was pure from sin, as, when clothed
in transcendent brightness, she outshone, in faith, in _virtue_, all
women of her nation!’”
This remembrance of her former glory, deepened the hues of her
complexion, and illumined a transient ray of triumph in her almost
beamless eyes: then pausing for a moment, she fixed her glance on the
image of her tutelar god, which she still held in her hand--the idol,
wearing the form of infant beauty, was symbolic of that religious
mystic love, to which she had _once_ devoted herself! she held it for a
moment to her lips, and to her heart--then, presenting it to the
Cashmirian, she added, “Take it, and bear it back to him, from whom I
received it, on the day of my consecration, in the _temple of
Serinagur!_ to him! the aged grandsire whom I abandoned!--dear and
venerable!--should he still survive the loss and shame of her, his child
and his disciple! should he still deign to acknowledge as _his_
offspring the outcast whom he cursed--the Chancalas whom--” the words
died away upon her quivering lips, “Brahma!” she faintly exclaimed,
“Brahma!” and, grasping the hands of the Missionary, alternately
directed her looks to him and to Heaven; but he replied not to the last
glance of life and love. He had sunk beneath the acuteness of his
feelings; and the Indian, believing that his spirit had fled before her
own to the realms of eternal peace, and there awaited to receive her,
bowed her head, and expired in the blissful illusion, with a smile of
love and a ray of religious joy shedding their mingled lustre on her
slowly closing eyes.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The guards, who by order of the Inquisition were sent in pursuit of the
fugitives, reached the cavern of their retreat three days after that of
the insurrection; but here they found only a pile partly consumed, and
the ashes of such aromatic plants as the interstices of the surrounding
rocks afforded, which the Hindus usually burn with the bodies of their
deceased friends, at the funeral pyre; they continued therefore their
search farther along the shore; it was long, persevering and fruitless.
The Apostolic Nuncio of India was _never heard of more_.
Time rolled on, and the majestic order of nature, uninterrupted in its
harmonious course, finely contrasted the rapid vicissitudes of human
events, and the countless changes in human institutions! In the short
space of _twenty_ years, the mighty had fallen, and the lowly were
elevated; the lash of oppression had passed alternately from the grasp
of the persecutor to the hand of the persecuted; the slave had seized
the sceptre, and the tyrant had submitted to the chain. Portugal,
resuming her independence, carried the standard of her triumph even to
the remote shores of the Indian ocean, and, knowing no ally but that of
_compatriot unanimity_, resisted by her single and unassisted force, the
combined powers of a mighty state, the intrigues of a wily cabinet, and
the arms of a successful potentate.[19] While _Freedom_ thus unfurled
her spotless banner in a remote corner of the West, she lay mangled and
in chains, at the foot of victorious tyranny in the East. _Aurengzebe_
had waded through carnage and destruction to the throne of India--he had
seized a sceptre stained with a brother’s blood, and wore the diadem,
torn from a parent’s brow! worthy to represent the most powerful and
despotic dynasty of the earth, his genius and his fortunes resembled the
regions he governed, mingling sublimity with destruction; splendour with
peril;--and combining, in their mighty scale, the great extremes of
good and evil. Led by a love of pleasure, or allured by a natural
curiosity, he resolved on visiting the most remote and most delicious
province of his empire, where his ancestors had so often sought repose
from the toils of war, and fatigue of government; and where, _twenty
years_ before, his own heroic and unfortunate nephew, Solymon Sheko, had
sought asylum and resource against his growing power and fatal
influence. He left _Delhi_ for Cashmire, during an interval of general
prosperity and peace, and performed his expedition with all the pomp of
eastern magnificence.[20]
In the immense and motley multitude which composed his suite, there was
an European _Philosopher_, who, highly distinguished by the countenance
and protection of the emperor, had been led, by philosophical curiosity
and tasteful research, to visit a country, which, more celebrated than
known, had not yet attracted the observation of genius, or the inquiry
of science. He found the natural beauty of the vale of _Cashmire_, far
exceeding the description of its scenes which lived in the songs of the
Indian bards, and its mineral and botanic productions curious, and
worthy of the admiration and notice of the naturalist; and in a spot
which might be deemed the region of natural phenomena, he discovered
more than _one_ object to which a moral interest was attached. Yet to
_one object only_ did the _interest of sentiment_ peculiarly belong; it
was a sparry cavern, among the hills of Serinagur, called, by the
_natives_ of the valley, the “_Grotto of congelations_!”[21] They
pointed it out to strangers as a place constructed by magic, which for
many years had been the residence of a recluse! a stranger, who had
appeared suddenly among them, who had been rarely seen, and more rarely
addressed, who led a lonely and an innocent life, equally avoided and
avoiding, who lived unmolested, awakening no interest, and exciting no
persecution--“he was,” they said, “a wild and melancholy man! whose
religion was unknown, but who prayed at the confluence of rivers, at the
rising and the setting of the sun; living on the produce of the soil, he
needed no assistance, nor sought any intercourse; and his life, thus
slowly wearing away, gradually faded into death.”
A _goalo_, or Indian shepherd, who missed him for several mornings at
his wonted place of matinal devotion, was led by curiosity or by
compassion to visit his grotto. He found him dead, at the foot of an
altar which he had himself raised to the deity of his secret worship,
and fixed in the attitude of one who died in the act of prayer. Beside
him lay a small urn, formed of the sparry congelations of the grotto--on
opening it, it was only found to contain some ashes, a cross stained
with blood, and the dsandum of an Indian Brahmin. On the lucid surface
of the _urn_ were carved some characters which formed the name of
“_Luxima!_”--It was the name of an _outcast_, and had long been
condemned to oblivion by the crime of its owner. The Indians shuddered
when they pronounced it! and it was believed that the _Recluse_ who
lived so long and so unknown among them, was the same, who once, and in
days long passed, had seduced, from the altar of the god she served, the
most celebrated of their religious women, when he had visited their
remote and lovely valley in the character of
_A Christian Missionary_.
THE END.
* * * * *
NOTICE.
The circumstance of these volumes, being founded on the History of the
Portuguese Inquisition, induces the Publisher to call the particular
attention of his Readers to
THE HISTORY
OF THE
INQUISITIONS,
_FROM THEIR ORIGIN_
TO THE
Present Time;
Including
THE SECRET TRANSACTIONS
OF THOSE
Horrid Tribunals.
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4to. volume, price £.2. 12_s._ 6_d._ Large paper copies, with proof
impressions of the plates, and hot-pressed, price £.4. 4_s._ 0_d._
* * * * *
_This Day is Published_,
IN
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WITH NOTES.
_Embellished with a characteristic representation,
neatly coloured, of the Inside of an
Asiatic Captain’s Tent._
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The odour of this flower produces violent head-aches.
[2] Une laine, ou plutôt un poil, qu’on nomme _touz_, se prend sur les
poitrines des chèvres sauvages des montagnes de Cashmire.--_Bernier._
It is of this wool the Cashmirian shawls are formed.
[3] See Kindersley’s History of the Hindu Mythology.
[4] “C’est dans le _Shasta_ que l’on trouve ’histoire de la Chute des
Anges.”--_Essai sur les Mœurs des Nations. P. 2, T. 2._
[5] This singular spectacle frequently presents itself to the eye of
the traveller in the hilly parts of the Carnatic, as well as in Upper
India, particularly about the _Ghauts_, which are covered with the
bamboo tree.
[6] One of the varieties of the _asbestos_, which when long exposed to
air, dissolves into a downy matter, unassailable by common fire.
[7] _Augne-Baugauvin_, the God of Fire, and one of the eight keepers
of the world.
[8] Saindovoer.
[9] The _tellertum_ is a mark which is at once an ornament and an
indication of cast and religious profession.
[10] According to the _Abbé_ Guy on, there is in India a species of
serpent, which even in the pursuit of its prey is to be lulled into a
profound slumber by the sounds of _musical instruments_. The Indian
serpent-hunters frequently make use of this artifice, that they may
destroy them with greater facility.
[11] “Notwithstanding the labours of the Missionaries for upwards of
two hundred years, out of perhaps one hundred millions of _Hindus_,
there are not twelve thousand _Christians_, and those are almost all
entirely _chancalas_, or _outcasts_.”--_Sketches of the History of the
Religion, Learning, and Manners of the Hindus, p. 48._
[12] “They all wear (the Familiares de Santo Officio), as a mark of
creditable distinction, a gold medal, upon which are engraven the Arms
of the Inquisition.”
_Stockdale’s History of the Inquisitions._
[13] The people also dare not speak of this Inquisition, but with the
utmost respect and reverence; and if by accident the slightest word
should escape one, which concerned it ever so little, it would be
necessary immediately to accuse and inform against one’s self. People
are frequently confined to the prison for one, two, or three years,
without knowing the reason, and are visited only by officers of the
Inquisition, and never suffered to behold any other person.--_History
of the Inquisition by Stockdale_, p. 213.
[14] An insurrection of a fatal consequence took place in _Vellore_
so late as 1806, and a mutiny at Nundydrag and Benglore, occurred
about the same period: both were supposed to have originated in the
religious bigotry of the natives, suddenly kindled by the supposed
threatened violation of their faith from the Christian settlers.
[15] The Pagans and Moors of Goa are not subject to the Inquisition
till they have been baptized. A disgusting and absurd cruelty is
displayed in its treatment of those unfortunate Indians who are
accused of magic and sorcery, and, as guilty of such offences, are
committed to the flames.--_See Hist. of the Inquisition, p. 243._
[16] The Inquisition, which punishes with death relapsed Christians,
never inflicts any capital punishment on those who have not received
the rites of baptism.--_History of the Inquisition, p. 214._
[17] A species of delirious fever.
[18] “Morreo queimado por hereje convitto negativo.”
[19] Revolution of Portugal.
[20] Historical.
[21] Monsieur de Bernier laments, in his interesting account of his
journey to Cashmire which he performed in the suite of Aurengzebe,
that circumstances prevented him visiting the grotto of congelations,
of which so many strange tales were related by the natives of the
valley.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Missionary; vol. III, by Lady Sidney Morgan