CHAPTER FORTY.
Although to-morrow was to end all Amine's hopes and fears--all her shorthappiness--her suspense and misery--yet Amine slept until her lastslumber in this world was disturbed by the unlocking and unbarring ofthe doors of her cell, and the appearance of the head gaoler with alight. Amine started up--she had been dreaming of her husband--ofhappiness! She awoke to the sad reality. There stood the gaoler, witha dress in his hand, which he desired she would put on. He lighted alamp for her, and left her alone. The dress was of black serge, withwhite stripes.
Amine put on the dress, and threw herself down on the bed, trying, ifpossible, to recall the dream from which she had been awakened, but invain. Two hours passed away, and the gaoler again entered, and summonedher to follow him. Perhaps one of the most appalling customs of theInquisition is, that after accusation, whether the accused partiesconfess their guilt or not, they return to their dungeons, without theleast idea of what may have been their sentence, and when summoned onthe morning of the execution they are equally kept in ignorance.
The prisoners were all summoned by the gaolers from the variousdungeons, and led into a large hall, where they found theirfellow-sufferers collected.
In this spacious, dimly-lighted hall, were to be seen about two hundredmen, standing up, as if for support, against the walls, all dressed inthe same black and white serge; so motionless, so terrified were they,that if it had not been for the rolling of their eyes, as they watchedthe gaolers, who passed and repassed, you might have imagined them to bepetrified. It was the agony of suspense, worse than the agony of death.After a time, a wax candle, about five feet long, was put into thehands of each prisoner, and then some were ordered to put on over theirdress the _Sanbenitos_--others the _Samarias_! Those who received thesedresses, with flames painted on them, gave themselves up for lost; andit was dreadful to perceive the anguish of each individual as thedresses were, one by one brought forward, and with the heavy drops ofperspiration on his brows, he watched with terror lest one should bepresented to him. All was doubt, fear, and horror!
But the prisoners in this hall were not those who were to suffer death.Those who wore the Sanbenitos had to walk in the procession, and receivebut slight punishment; those who wore the Samarias had been condemned,but had been saved from the consuming fire, by an acknowledgment oftheir offence; the flames painted on their dresses were _reversed_, andsignified that they were not to suffer; but this the unfortunatewretches did not know, and the horrors of a cruel death stared them inthe face!
Another hall, similar to the one in which the men had been collected,was occupied by female culprits. The same ceremonies were observed--thesame doubt fear and agony, were depicted upon every countenance. Butthere was a third chamber, smaller than the other two, and this chamberwas reserved for those who had been sentenced and who were to suffer atthe stake. It was into this chamber that Amine was led, and there shefound seven other prisoners, dressed in the same manner as herself: twoonly were Europeans, the other five were negro slaves. Each of thesehad his confessor with him, and was earnestly listening to hisexhortation. A monk approached Amine, but she waved him away with herhand: he looked at her, spat on the floor, and cursed her. The headgaoler now made his appearance with the dresses for those who were inthis chamber; these were Samarias, only different from the others,inasmuch as the flames were painted on them _upwards_ instead of down.These dresses were of grey stuff, and loose, like a waggoner's frock; atthe lower part of them, both before and behind, was painted the likenessof the wearer that is the face only, resting upon a burning fagot, andsurrounded with flames and demons. Under the portrait was written thecrime for which the party suffered. Sugar-loaf caps, with flamespainted on them, were also brought and put on their heads, and the longwax candles were placed into their hands.
Amine, and the others condemned, being arrayed in these dresses,remained in the chambers for some hours before it was time for theprocession to commence, for they had been all summoned up by the gaolersat about two o'clock in the morning.
The sun rose brilliantly, much to the joy of the members of the HolyOffice, who would not have had the day obscured on which they were tovindicate the honour of the Church, and to prove how well they acted upto the mild doctrines of the Saviour--those of charity, good-will,forbearing one another forgiving one another. God of Heaven! And notonly did those of the Holy Inquisition rejoice, but thousands andthousands more, who had flocked from all parts to witness the dreadfulceremony, and to hold a jubilee--many, indeed, actuated by fanaticalsuperstition, but more attended from thoughtlessness and the love ofpageantry. The streets and squares through which the procession was topass were filled at an early hour. Silks, tapestries, and cloth of goldand silver, were hung over the balconies, and out of the windows, inhonour of the procession. Every balcony and window was thronged withladies and cavaliers in their gayest attire, all waiting anxiously tosee the wretches paraded before they suffered; but the world is fond ofexcitement, and where is anything so exciting to a superstitious peopleas an _auto-da-fe_?
As the sun rose, the heavy bell of the cathedral tolled, and all theprisoners were led down to the grand hall, that the order of theprocession might be arranged. At the large entrance-door, on a raisedone sat the Grand Inquisitor, encircled by many of the most considerablenobility and gentry of Goa. By the Grand Inquisitor stood hissecretary, and as the prisoners walked past the throne and their nameswere mentioned, the secretary, after each, called out the names of oneof those gentlemen, who immediately stepped forward, and took hisstation by the prisoner. These people are termed god-fathers; theirduty is to accompany and be answerable for the prisoner, who is undertheir charge, until the ceremony is over. It is reckoned a high honourconferred on those whom the Grand Inquisitor appoints to this office.
At last the procession commenced. First was raised on high the standardof the Dominican order of monks, for the Dominican order were thefounders of the Inquisition, and claimed this privilege by prescriptiveright. After the banner, the monks themselves followed, in two lines.And what was the motto of their banner?--"Justitia et Misericordia!"Then followed the culprits, to the number of three hundred, each withhis godfather by his side, and his large wax candle lighted in his hand.Those whose offences have been most venial walk first; all arebareheaded and barefooted. After this portion; who wore only the dressof black and white serge, came those who carried the Sanbenitos; thenthose who wore the Samarias, with the flames reversed. Here there was aseparation in the procession, caused by a large cross, with the carvedimage of our Saviour nailed to it, the face of the image carriedforward. This was intended to signify, that those in advance of thecrucifix, and upon whom the Saviour looked down, were not to suffer; andthat those who were behind, and upon whom his back was turned, were castaway, to perish for ever, in this world and the next. Behind thecrucifix followed the seven condemned; and, as the greatest criminal,Amine walked the last. But the procession did not close here. BehindAmine were five effigies, raised high on poles, clothed in the samedresses, painted with flames and demons. Behind each effigy was borne acoffin, containing a skeleton; the effigies were of those who had diedin their dungeon, or expired under the torture, and who had been triedand condemned after their death, and sentenced to be burnt. Theseskeletons had been dug up and were to suffer the same sentence as, hadthey still been living beings, they would have undergone. The effigieswere to be tied to the stakes, and the bones were to be consumed. Thenfollowed the members of the Inquisition; the familiars, monks, priests,and hundreds of penitents in black dresses, which concealed their faces,all with the lighted tapers in their hands.
It was two hours before the procession, which had paraded through almostevery important street in Goa, arrived at the cathedral in which thefurther ceremonies were to be gone through. The barefooted culpritscould now scarcely walk, the small sharp flints having so wounded theirfeet, that their tracks up the steps of the cathedral were marked withblood.
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p; The grand altar of the cathedral was hung with black cloth, and lightedup with thousands of tapers. On one side of it was a throne for theGrand Inquisitor, on the other, a raised platform for the Viceroy ofGoa, and his suite. The centre aisle had benches for the prisoners andtheir godfathers; the other portions of the procession falling off tothe right and left to the side aisles, and mixing for the time with thespectators. As the prisoners entered the cathedral, they were led intotheir seats, those least guilty sitting nearest to the altar, and thosewho were condemned to suffer at the stake being placed the farthest fromit.
The bleeding Amine tottered to her seat, and longed for the hour whichwas to sever her from a Christian world. She thought not of herself,nor of what she was to suffer: she thought but of Philip; of his beingsafe from these merciless creatures--of the happiness of dying first,and of meeting him again in bliss.
Worn with long confinement, with suspense and anxiety, fatigued andsuffering from her painful walk, and the exposure to the burning sun,after so many months' incarceration in a dungeon, she no longer shoneradiant with beauty; but still there was something even more touching inher care-worn yet still perfect features. The object of universal gaze,she walked with her eyes cast down, and nearly closed; but occasionally,when she did look up, the fire that flashed from them spoke the proudsoul within, and many feared and wondered, while more pitied that one soyoung, and still so lovely, should be doomed to such an awful fate.Amine had not taken her seat in the cathedral more than a few seconds,when, overpowered by her feelings and by fatigue she fell back in aswoon.
Did no one step forward to assist her? to raise her up, and offer herrestoratives? No--not one. Hundreds would have done so, but they darednot: she was an outcast, excommunicated, abandoned, and lost; and shouldany one, moved by compassion for a suffering fellow-creature, haveventured to raise her up he would have been looked upon with suspicion,and most probably have been arraigned, and have had to settle the affairof conscience with the Holy Inquisition.
After a short time two of the officers of the Inquisition went to Amineand raised her again in her seat, and she recovered sufficiently toenable her to retain her posture.
A sermon was then preached by a Dominican monk, in which he portrayedthe tender mercies, the paternal love of the Holy Office. He comparedthe Inquisition to the ark of Noah, out of which all the animals walkedafter the deluge, but with this difference highly in favour of the HolyOffice, that the animals went forth from the ark no better than theywent in, whereas those who had gone into the Inquisition with all thecruelty of disposition, and with the hearts of wolves, came out as mildand patient as lambs.
The public accuser then mounted the pulpit, and read from it all thecrimes of those who had been condemned, and the punishments which theywere to undergo. Each prisoner, as his sentence was read, was broughtforward to the pulpit by the officers to hear it, standing up, with hiswax candle lighted in his hand. As soon as the sentences of all thosewhose lives had been spared were read the Grand Inquisitor put on hispriestly robes, and followed by several others, took off from them theban of excommunication (which they were supposed to have fallen under),by throwing holy water on them with a small broom.
As soon as this portion of the ceremony was over, those who werecondemned to suffer, and the effigies of those who had escaped by death,were brought up one by one, and their sentences read; the winding up ofthe condemnation of all was in the same words, "that the HolyInquisition found it impossible, on account of the hardness of theirhearts and the magnitude of their crimes, to pardon them. With greatconcern it handed them over to secular justice to undergo the penalty ofthe laws; exhorting the authorities at the same time to show clemencyand mercy towards the unhappy wretches, and if they must suffer death,that at all events it might be without the _spilling of blood_." Whatmockery was this apparent intercession not to shied blood, when, tocomply with their request, they substituted the torment and agony of thestake!
Amine was the last who was led forward to the pulpit, which was fixedagainst one of the massive columns of the centre aisle, close to thethrone occupied by the Grand inquisitor. "You, Amine Vanderdecken,"cried the public accuser. At this moment an unusual bustle was heard inthe crowd under the pulpit, there was struggling and expostulation, andthe officers raised their wands for silence and decorum--but itcontinued.
"You, Amine Vanderdecken, being accused--"
Another violent struggle; and from the crowd darted a young man, whorushed to where Amine was standing, and caught her in his arms.
"Philip! Philip!" screamed Amine falling on his bosom; as he caughther, the cap of flames fell off her head and rolled along the marblepavement. "My Amine--my wife--my adored one--is it thus we meet? Mylord, she is innocent. Stand off, men," continued he to the officers ofthe Inquisition, who would have torn them asunder: "stand off, or yourlives shall answer for it."
This threat to the officers, and the defiance of all rules, were not tobe borne; the whole cathedral was in a state of commotion, and thesolemnity of the ceremony was about to be compromised. The Viceroy andhis followers had risen from their chairs to observe what was passing,and the crowd was pressing on, when the Grand Inquisitor gave hisdirections, and other officers hastened to the assistance of the two whohad led Amine forward, and proceeded to disengage her from Philip'sarms. The struggle was severe. Philip appeared to be endued with thestrength of twenty men; and it was some minutes before they couldsucceed in separating him and when they had so done, his struggles weredreadful.
Amine, also, held by two of the familiars, shrieked, as she attemptedonce more, but in vain, to rush into her husband's arms. At last, by atremendous effort, Philip released himself; but as soon as he wasreleased, he sank down helpless on the pavement; the exertion had causedthe bursting of a blood-vessel, and he lay without motion.
"Oh God! Oh God! they have killed him! monsters--murderers!--let meembrace him but once more!" cried Amine, frantically.
A priest now stepped forward--it was Father Mathias--with sorrow in hiscountenance; he desired some of the bystanders to carry out PhilipVanderdecken, and Philip, in a state of insensibility, was borne awayfrom the sight of Amine, the blood streaming from his mouth.
Amine's sentence was read--she heard it not, her brain was bewildered.She was led back to her seat, and then it was that all her courage, allher constancy and fortitude gave way; and during the remainder of theceremony, she filled the cathedral with her wild hysterical sobbing; allentreaties or threats being wholly lost upon her.
All was now over except the last and most tragical scene of the drama.The culprits who had been spared were led back to the Inquisition bytheir godfathers, and those who had been sentenced were taken down tothe banks of the river to suffer. It was on a large open space, on theleft of the custom-house, that this ceremony was to be gone through. Asin the cathedral raised thrones were prepared for the Grand Inquisitorand the who, in state headed the procession, followed by an immenseconcourse of people. Thirteen stakes had been set up, eight for theliving, or the dead. The executioners were sitting on, or standing by,the piles of wood and faggots, waiting for their victims. Amine couldnot walk she was at first supported by the familiars, and then carriedby them, to the stake which had been assigned for her. When they puther on her feet opposite to it, her courage appeared to revive, shewalked boldly up, folded her arms and leant against it.
The executioners now commenced their office: the chains were passedround Amine's body--the wood and faggots piled around her. The samepreparations had been made with all the other culprits, and theconfessors stood by the side of each victim. Amine waved her handindignantly to those who approached her, when Father Mathias, almostbreathless, made his appearance from the crowd, through which he hadforced his way.
"Amine Vanderdecken--unhappy woman! had you been counselled by me thiswould not have been. Now it is too late, but not too late to save yoursoul. Away then with this obstinacy--this hardness of heart; call uponthe blessed S
aviour, that he may receive your spirit--call upon hiswound's for mercy. It is the eleventh hour, but not too late. Amine,"continued the old man with tears, "I implore you, I conjure you. Atleast, may this load of trouble be taken from my heart."
"`Unhappy woman!' you say?" replied she, "say rather, `unhappy priest:'for Amine's sufferings will soon be over, while you must still endurethe torments of the damned. Unhappy was the day when my husband rescuedyou from death. Still more unhappy the compassion which prompted him tooffer you an asylum and a refuge. Unhappy the knowledge of you from the_first_ day to the _last_. I leave you to your conscience--ifconscience you retain--nor would I change this cruel death for the pangswhich you in your future life will suffer. Leave me--_I die in thefaith of my forefathers_, and scorn a creed that warrants such a sceneas this."
"Amine Vanderdecken," cried the priest on his knees, clasping his handsin agony.
"Leave me, Father."
"There is but a minute left--for the love of God--"
"I tell you then, leave me--that minute is my own."
Father Mathias turned away in despair, and the tears coursed down theold man's cheeks. As Amine said, his misery was extreme.
The head executioner now inquired of the confessors whether the culpritsdied in the _true_ faith? If answered in the affirmative, a rope waspassed round their necks and twisted to the stake, so that they werestrangled before the fire was kindled. All the other culprits had diedin this manner; and the head executioner inquired of Father Mathias,whether Amine had a claim to so much mercy. The old priest answerednot, but shook his head.
The executioner turned away. After a moment's pause, Father Mathiasfollowed him, and seized him by the arm saying, in a faltering voice,"Let her not suffer long."
The Grand Inquisitor gave the signal, and the fires were all lighted atthe same moment. In compliance with the request of the priest, theexecutioner had thrown a quantity of wet straw upon Amine's pile, whichthrew up a dense smoke before it burst into flames.
"Mother! mother! I come to thee!" were the last words heard fromAmine's lips.
The flames soon raged furiously, ascending high above the top of thestake to which she had been chained. Gradually they sunk down; and onlywhen the burning embers covered the ground, a few fragments of boneshanging on the chain were all that remained of the once peerless andhigh-minded Amine.
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