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, lay 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 councils 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 to 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 on 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; licenses were given--greater licenses 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 her 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.