APPENDIX III. — INQUISITION OF GOA—IMPRISONMENT OF M. DELLON, 1673.
"M. Dellon a French traveller, spending some time at Damaun, on the north-western coast of Hindostan, incurred the jealousy of the governor and a black priest, in regard to a lady, as he is pleased to call her, whom they both admired. He had expressed himself rather freely concerning some of the grosser superstitions of Romanism, and thus afforded the priest, who was also secretary of the Inquisition, an occasion of proceeding against him as a heretic. The priest and the governor united in a representation to the chief inquisitor at Goa, which procured an order for his arrest. Like all other persons whom it pleased the inquisitors or their servants to arrest, in any part of the Portuguese dominions beyond the Cape of Good Hope, he was thrown into prison with a promiscuous crowd of delinquents, the place and treatment being of the worst kind, even according to the colonial barbarism of the seventeenth century. To describe his sufferings there, is not to our purpose, inasmuch as all prisoners fared alike, many of them perishing from starvation and disease. Many offenders against the Inquisition were there at the same time,—some accused of Judaism, others, of Paganism—in which sorcery and witchcraft were included—and others of immorality. In a field so wide and so fruitful, the "scrutators" of the faith could not fail to gather abundantly. After an incarceration of at least four months, he and his fellow-sufferers were shipped off for the ecclesiastical metropolis of India, all of them being in irons. The vessel put into Bacaim, and the prisoners were transferred, for some days, to the prison of that town, where a large number of persons were kept in custody, under charge of the commissary of the holy office, until a vessel should arrive to carry them to Goa.
"In due time they were again at sea, and a fair wind wafted their fleet into that port after a voyage of seven days. Until they could be deposited in the cells of the Inquisition with the accustomed formalities, the Archbishop of Goa threw open HIS prison for their reception, which prison, being ecclesiastical, may be deemed worthy of description.
"The most filthy," says Dellon, "the most dark, and the most horrible that I ever saw; and I doubt whether a more shocking and horrible prison can be found anywhere. It is a kind of cave wherein there is no day seen but by a very little hole; the most subtle rays of the sun cannot enter into it, and there is never any true light in it. The stench is extreme. * * *
"On the 16th of January 1674, at eight o'clock in the morning, an officer came with orders to take the prisoners to "the holy house." With considerable difficulty M. Dellon dragged his iron-loaded limbs thither. They helped him to ascend the stairs at the great entrance, and in the hall, smiths were waiting to take off the irons from all the prisoners. One by one, they were summoned to audience. Dellon, who was called the first, crossed the hall, passed through an ante-chamber, and entered a room, called by the Portuguese "board of the holy office," where the grand inquisitor of the Indies sat at one end of a very large table, on an elevated floor in the middle of the chamber. He was a secular priest about forty years of age, in full vigor—a man who could do his work with energy. At one end of the room was a large crucifix, reaching from the floor almost to the ceiling, and near it, sat a notary on a folding stool. At the opposite end, and near the inquisitor, Dellon was placed, and, hoping to soften his judge, fell on his knees before him. But the inquisitor commanded him to rise, asked whether he knew the reason of his arrest, and advised him to declare it at large, as that was the only way to obtain a speedy release. Dellon caught at the hope of release, began to tell his tale, mixed with tears and protestations, again fell at the feet of Don Francisco Delgado Ematos, the inquisitor, and implored his favorable attention. Don Francisco told him, very coolly, that he had other business on hand, and, nothing moved, rang a silver bell. The alcayde entered, led the prisoner out into a gallery, opened, and searched his trunk, stripped him of every valuable, wrote an inventory, assured him that all should be safely kept, and then led him to a cell about ten feet square, and left him there, shut up in utter solitude. In the evening they brought him his first meal, which he ate heartily, and slept a little during the night following. Next morning he learnt that he could have no part of his property, not even a breviary was, in that place, allowed to a priest, for they had no form of religion there, and for that reason he could not have a book. His hair was cropped close; and therefore "he did not need a comb."
"Thus began his acquaintance with the holy house, which he describes as "great and magnificent," on one side of the great space before the church of St Catharine. There were three gates in front; and, it was by the central, or largest, that the prisoners entered, and mounted a stately flight of steps, leading into the great hall. The side gates provided entrance to spacious ranges of apartments, belonging to the inquisitors. Behind the principal building, was another, very spacious, two stories high, and consisting of double rows of cells, opening into galleries that ran from end to end. The cells on the ground-floor were very small, without any aperture from without for light or air. Those of the upper story were vaulted, white-washed, had a small strongly grated window, without glass, and higher than the tallest man could reach. Towards the gallery every cell was shut with two doors, one on the inside, the other one outside of the wall. The inner door folded, was grated at the bottom, opened towards the top for the admission of food and was made fast with very strong bolts. The outer door was not so thick, had no window, but was left open from six o'clock every morning until eleven—a necessary arrangement in that climate, unless it were intended to destroy life by suffocation.
"To each prisoner was given as earthen pot with water wherewith to wash, another full of water to drink, with a cup; a broom, a mat whereon to lie, and a large basin with a cover, changed every fourth day. The prisoners had three meals a day; and their health so far as food could contribute to it in such a place, was cared for in the provision of a wholesome, but spare diet. Physicians were at hand to render all necessary assistance to the sick, as were confessors, ready to wait upon the dying; but they gave no viaticum, performed no unction, said no mass. The place was under an impenetrable interdict. If any died, and that many did die is beyond question, his death was unknown to all without; he was buried within the walls without any sacred ceremony; and if, after death, he was found to have died in heresy, his bones were taken up at the next Auto, to be burned. Unless there happened to be an unusual number of prisoners, each one was alone in his own cell. He might not speak, nor groan, nor sob aloud, nor sigh. [Footnote: Limborch relates that on one occasion, a poor prisoner was heard to cough; the jailer of the Inquisition instantly repaired to him, and warned him to forbear, as the slightest noise was not tolerated in that house. The poor man replied that it was not in his power to forbear; a second time they admonished him to desist; and when again, unable to do otherwise, he repeated the offence, they stripped him naked, and cruelly beat him. This increased his cough, for which they beat him so often, that at last he died through pain and anguish of the stripes he had received.] His breathing might be audible when the guard listened at the grating, but nothing more. Four guards were stationed in each long gallery, open, indeed, at each end, but awfully silent, as if it were the passage of a catacomb. If, however, he wanted anything, he might tap at the inner door, when a jailer would come to hear the request, and would report to the alcayde, but was not permitted to answer. If one of the victims, in despair, or pain, or delirium, attempted to pronounce a prayer, even to God, or dared to utter a cry, the jailers would run to the cell, rush in, and beat him cruelly, for terror to the rest. Once in two months the inquisitor, with a secretary and an interpreter, visited the prisons, and asked each prisoner if he wanted anything, if his meat was regularly brought, and if he had any complaint against the jailers. His want after all lay at the mercy of the merciless. His complaint, if uttered, would bring down vengeance, rather than gain redress. But in this visitation the holy office professed mercy with much formality, and the inquisitorial secretary collected notes which aided in the crimination, or in the murder of their victims.
"The officers of Goa were;—the inquisidor mor or grand inquisitor, who was always a secular priest; the second inquisitor, Dominican friar; several deputies, who came, when called for, to assist the inquisitors at trials, but never entered without such a summons; qualifiers, as usual, to examine books and writings, but never to witness an examination of the living, or be present at any act of the kind; a fiscal; a procurator; advocates, so called, for the accused; notaries and familiars. The authority of this tribunal was absolute in Goa. There does not appear to have been anything peculiar in the manner of examining and torturing at Goa where the practice coincided with that of Portugal and Spain.