this time the heat had become so great that, finding no carriage was forthcoming, I had almost resolved to give up the idea of visiting the wonderful old palaces and churches which we had taken so much trouble to come and see; but Tom and the Doctor encouraged me to make an effort, and improvised a sort of carrying-chair for me. We accordingly proceeded up a steep hot road, through the aforesaid arch, to the Rua Direita, so called because it once led direct from the Palace of the Viceroys to the Church of Misericordia. The name has lost its meaning, for all that now remains of the splendid palace is a portion of the chief gateway, so small in extent that when we tried to take a photograph of it, the helmet of one of the gentlemen who chanced to stand some distance in front of the camera completely concealed it. Only 250 years ago the palace must have been the most conspicuous building in the city. At that time a large square stood in front of it to the south, surrounded by fine houses. A noble staircase led from this square to the principal hall of the palace, in which were hung pictures of most of the Portuguese ships which had come to India since the time of Vasco de Gama. In an inner hall the Viceroy, who then lived in a style of regal splendour, received ambassadors from the Indian princes, and transacted important business. Da Fonseca, in his historical and archæological description of the City of Goa, states that the Viceroy rarely stirred out of his palace, except to make a royal progress through the city. 'A day previous to his appearance in public, drums were beaten and trumpets sounded, as a signal to the noblesse and gentry to accompany him on the following day. Accordingly, early in the morning about three or four hundred hidalgos and courtiers appeared in the Terriero do Paço, clad in rich attire, mounted on noble steeds with gold and silver trappings glittering with pearls and precious stones, and followed by European pages in rich livery.' The palace began to fall into decay when the city was abandoned; and although from time to time there was an idea of repairing it, the work was never seriously undertaken. In 1820 a considerable portion of the splendid building was ordered to be knocked down; and though the remainder stood for some time, even so lately as up to fifty or sixty years ago, it has gradually fallen to pieces, and its ruins are now covered with vegetation.
The small Church of S. Cajetan was the first place we visited after passing the entrance to the palace. It was built by some Italian friars in 1640, and so closely adjoins the palace that some travellers have referred to it as the Viceregal Chapel. The façade, with its Corinthian columns, and the fine cupola rising behind them, reminds one of St. Peter's at Rome in miniature. Outside the church, exposed to the full heat of the burning sun, a party of half-clad natives were scrubbing with soap and water some fine full-length oil portraits of past viceroys, governors, and archbishops, which had been removed from the sacristy for this purpose. Among them were those of Vasco de Gama, and of Affonso Albuquerque, the first European conqueror of Goa. The church had not yet been opened, so we waited in a long room in the adjacent convent, through which the sea-breeze blew with delicious coolness. After a short rest we went out into a balcony and looked with delight over a forest of tropical vegetation, to the blue river running swiftly through the trees, with the paler grey of the distant ghâts beyond. When at last we gained admittance to the church, we much admired its graceful dome and the fine altar-piece in the principal chapel. Close to and in striking contrast with this grand painting stood a little group of scantily clothed natives, who had evidently taken advantage of the opportunity of inspecting the sacred edifice which our visit afforded. The windows of the church are made of small panes of the thin, semi-transparent inner scale of the pearl oyster, used in place of glass – a fashion still followed in many of the private houses of Goa. These shell windows, the materials for which must formerly have been very plentiful in the neighbourhood, admit a peculiarly soft and tender light.
From S. Cajetan we proceeded to the Cathedral of S. Caterina, one of the oldest buildings of Goa, and the only church in which daily religious service on a grand scale is now held. Albuquerque was the founder of this sacred edifice, which took seventy-five years to build, and has been well described as 'worthy of one of the principal cities of Europe.' Dr. Russell, visiting it with H.R.H. the Prince of Wales, speaks of its 'vast and noble proportions.' We were amazed by the richness of the materials, and the artistic beauty of the elaborate carving which met the eye in every direction. The vaulted ceiling, the mosaic covered side-chapels, and the high altar, near which stands the Archbishop's chair, are the features most worthy of attention. The cathedral is, indeed, a stately pile, the nave being over 70 feet high and 140 feet long, and the total length of the building more than 270 feet. The vestries and sacristies are full of rich vestments and valuable plate, now seldom seen except by a few priests, or an occasional foreign visitor like ourselves, or, at still rarer intervals, by the general public when a grand exhibition is held, to which the faithful flock in crowds. Even the exhibitions have been discontinued of late years, for it was found that the gathering together of a large concourse of people in so unhealthy a locality led to the spread of infectious disorders. The site of Old Goa is, indeed, terribly malarious. The Government having abandoned the city, it was deserted by everybody else, the finest houses, after standing empty for years, gradually falling to pieces, so that literally not one stone remains above another. Old Goa was one of the headquarters of the terrible Inquisition, and until comparatively recent days its most cruel decrees were there executed with stern and heartless rigour. The tower of the Cathedral of S. Caterina contains five bells, the largest of which, still in daily use, is the same which was formerly tolled on the occasion of the auto-da-fé. It was quite thrilling to listen to its deep knell, and to think that those same tones must have fallen upon the agonised ears of the poor victims of an odious tyranny.
Close to the cathedral once stood the Palace of the Inquisition, a vast and magnificent building, the space occupied by which is now filled with dense jungle. It is the home of venomous snakes, not to be met with in any other part of the island. Probably some special shrub or herb which they like grows there and nowhere else. From the cathedral we passed across an open space to visit the Church of Bom Jesus, containing the chapel and tomb of St. Francis Xavier, and a fine altar, in the centre of which stands a colossal image of St. Ignatius of Loyola. St. Francis (who died at Sanchan, in Malacca) rests in a crystal and silver coffin within a magnificent sarcophagus. The body, clad in the richest vestments, is said to be still, after the lapse of three centuries, in a wonderful state of preservation – a fact testified to by the chief surgeon of Goa in an official report made in 1859.
Never was there a city so unlike a city, or even the remains of one, as Old Goa, unless it were Palmyra. Goa is now, in fact, only a forest of palm-trees with patches of jungle here and there, made gay by tropical flowers, such as the scarlet coral-tree, the pimelia with its bright golden convolvulus-like flowers, and scarlet and apricot-yellow euphorbias. From this mass of vegetation the spire of a church rises or the tower of some ancient building occasionally peeps forth. No other traces of its bygone splendour could be seen, whether one looked upward from the level of the earth or downward from the roof of one of the few buildings which still remain.
On our return to the landing-place we found that the railway officials had kindly lent us their large steam-launch, in the cosy little cabin of which, sheltered by venetian blinds, we enjoyed our well-earned lunch, for it was now past three o'clock, and we had breakfasted soon after six. The sea-breeze blew refreshingly as we steamed down the river, and once clear of the land the heat was not at all oppressive.
Pangaum, or Nova Goa, is a nice clean-looking little town, of some 15,000 inhabitants, at the foot of a hill covered with palm-trees. It is of comparatively recent growth; for although the viceregal residence was transferred here from Old Goa in 1759, when a terrible epidemic broke out in that place, it was not until 1827 that any vigorous steps were taken to reclaim the land on which it now stands. In 1843 it was formally declared to be the capital of Portuguese India, and the Governor, the Archbishop, and other authorities and dignitaries now live there. The Causeway of Ribandar, which connects Pangaum with the city of that name, is a wonderful construction, nearly two miles in length, built in 1633 by order of the then Viceroy.
Only the gentlemen landed during our brief stay; and they soon returned from their stroll, having seen most of the objects of interest in the place. I had in the meantime occupied myself in taking some photographs – under somewhat difficult conditions, for the breeze was stiff and strong, and the steam-launch
