SOLUTION MANUAL FOR LEADERSHIP

RESEARCH FINDINGS PRACTICE AND SKILLS

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CHAPTER 5
Contingency and Situational Leadership

After studying this chapter, the reader should have an accurate understanding of contingency theories of
leadership. Although the array of contingency and situational theories may baffle the reader at first, a
closer look shows that are related except for the crisis leadership theory. For example, the familiar tasks
versus relationships dimensions run through several of the theories.

CHAPTER OUTLINE AND LECTURE NOTES

Contingency theories specify the factors that determine which style of leadership will achieve the best
results in a given situation. The five best-known contingency theories are described in this chapter,
along with leadership during a crisis. The leader-member exchange is included as a contingency theory.
We also mention evidence-based leadership and management as contributing to the contingency
approach.
I. SITUATIONAL INFLUENCES ON EFFECTIVE LEADERSHIP BEHAVIOR
The essence of the contingency approach to leadership is that leaders are most effective when
they make their behavior contingent upon situational forces, including group member
characteristics. Both the internal and external environments have a significant impact on leader
effectiveness.
A useful perspective on implementing contingency theory is that the managers must be flexible
enough to avoid clinging to ideas that no longer work. Being stubborn about what will work in a
given situation, and clinging to old ideas can result in ineffective leadership. The organizational
culture is a major situational variable the leader needs to take into account in choosing which
approach to leadership will lead to favorable outcomes.

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42 Chapter 5: Contingency and Situational Leadership

Vroom and Jago have identified three conclusions about the role of situations in leadership, and
these findings support the model presented in Figure 1-2, Chapter 1. Another conclusion is added
here.
1. Organizational effectiveness is affected by situational factors not under leader control.
2. Situations shape how leaders behave.
3. Situations influence the consequences of leader behavior.
4. The type of organization influences which leadership approach is best.

II. FIEDLER’S CONTINGENCY THEORY OF LEADERSHIP EFFECTIVENESS

Fiedler’s theory states that the best style of leadership is determined by the situation in which the
leader works.
A. Measuring Leadership Style: The Least Preferred Coworker (LPC) Scale
A manager’s leadership style is classified as relationship-motivated or task-motivated. One’s
style is considered relatively fixed. The least preferred coworker (LPC) scale measures the
degree to which a leader describes favorably or unfavorably his or her least preferred
coworker. One who describes the least preferred coworker in favorable terms is relationship-
motivated. In contrast, a person who describes his or her least preferred coworker
unfavorably tends to be task-motivated.
B. Measuring the Leadership Situation
Leadership situations are divided into high control, moderate control, and low control. A
high-control situation is the most favorable. Amount of control is determined by rating the
situation on three dimensions:
1. Leader-member relations measure how well the group and the leader get along.
2. Task structure measures how clearly the procedures, goals, and evaluation of the job
are defined.
3. Position power measures the leader’s authority to hire, fire, discipline, and grant salary
increases to group members.

Leader-member relations contribute as much to the favorability of the leadership situation as

do task structure and position power combined.
C. Overall Findings
Leadership effectiveness depends on matching leaders to situations in which they can
exercise more control. Task-motivated leaders perform the best in situations of high control
and low control. Relationship-motivated leaders perform the best in situations of low
control. Figure 5–1 summarizes these findings.
D. Making the Situation More Favorable for the Leader
A practical implication of the contingency theory is that leaders should modify situations to
match their leadership style best, thereby enhancing their chances of being effective. To
increase control over the situation, the leader can do one or more of the following: (a)
improve leader-member relations, (b) increase task structure, and (c) exercise more position
power.
E. Evaluation of Fiedler’s Contingency Theory
Fiedler’s theory has prompted extensive research. The model has also alerted leaders to the
importance of sizing up the situation to gain control. Yet the contingency theory is too
complicated to have much of an impact on most leaders. A major problem centers on
matching the situation to the leader.

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 Chapter 5: Contingency and Situational Leadership 43

III. THE PATH-GOAL THEORY OF LEADERSHIP EFFECTIVENESS

The path-goal theory of leadership effectiveness specifies what the leader must do to achieve
high productivity and morale in a given situation. A leader attempts to clarify the path to a goal
for a group member so that the latter receives personal payoffs. At the same time, job satisfaction
and performance increase. Path-goal theory is based on expectancy theory. The major proposition
of path-goal theory is that the manager should choose a leadership style that takes into account
group member characteristics and task demands. Furthermore, initiating structure will be
effective in situations with a low degree of subordinate task structure, but ineffective in highly
structured task situations.
In his reformulated version of path-goal theory, House offers this metaproposition: For leaders to
be effective they should engage in behaviors that complement subordinates’ environment and
abilities. They should engage in these behaviors in a manner that compensates for deficiencies,
and that enhances subordinate satisfaction as well as individual and work-unit performance.
A. Matching the Leadership Style to the Situation
The leader should choose among four leadership styles to achieve optimum results in a given
situation. Two key sets of contingency factors are the type of subordinates and the type of
work they perform. Key subordinate characteristics include their locus of control and
perception of their ability with respect to the assigned task. Environmental contingency
factors are (1) the group members’ tasks, (2) the authority system within the organization,
and (3) the work group. The following describes the four styles and their appropriate
circumstances.
1. Directive style. The directive leader emphasizes formal activities, such as planning,
organizing, and controlling. The directive style improves morale when the task is
unclear.

2. Supportive style. The supportive leader displays concern for the well-being of group
members and creates an emotionally supportive climate. The leader also emphasizes
developing mutually satisfying relationships among group members. The supportive
leader enhances morale when group members work on dissatisfying, stressful, or
frustrating tasks.

3. Participative style. The participative leader uses group input when making decisions.
He or she is best suited for improving the morale of well-motivated employees who
perform nonrepetitive tasks.

4. Achievement-oriented style. The achievement-oriented leader sets challenging goals,

pushes for work improvement, and sets high expectations for group members. This
style works well with achievement-oriented team members and with those working on
ambiguous and nonrepetitive tasks.

B. Steps Leaders Can Take to Improve Performance and Satisfaction

The path-goal theory offers many specific suggestions to leaders. Four representative
suggestions are:
1. Recognize or activate group members’ needs over which the leader has control.
2. Increase the personal payoffs to team members for attaining work goals.
3. Help group members clarify their expectations of how effort will lead to good
performance, and how performance will lead to a reward.

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44 Chapter 5: Contingency and Situational Leadership

4. Reduce frustrating barriers to reaching goals.

Leaders can benefit from following the specific suggestions of path-goal theory.
Unfortunately, path-goal theory has so many nuances and complexities that it has attracted
little interest from managers.
IV. SITUATIONAL LEADERSHIP® MODEL II (SLII)
Situational leadership model II (SLII) explains how to match the leadership style to the
capabilities of group members on a given task. Leaders are taught to use the leadership style that
matches or responds to the needs of the situation.
A. Basics of SLII
The major premise of SLII is that the basis for effective leadership is managing the
relationship between a leader and a subordinate on a given task. The major concepts of the
SLII model are presented in Figure 5-3. Effective leaders adapt their behavior to the level of
commitment and competence of a particular subordinate to complete a given task. The
combination of the subordinate’s commitment and competence determine his or her
developmental level. SLII explains that effective leadership depends on two independent
behaviors: supporting and directing. The four basic styles are as follows:
S1—Directing. High directive behavior/low supportive behavior.
S2—Coaching. High directive behavior/high supportive behavior.
S3—Supporting. Low directive behavior/high supportive behavior.
S4—Delegating. Low directive behavior/low supportive behavior.

No one style is best: an effective leader uses all four styles depending on the subordinate’s
developmental level on a given task. For example, enthusiastic beginners require a directing
style of leaders, and self-reliant achievers need a delegating style.
B. Evaluation of SLII
The model is based on a fundamental truth about leadership and management: Competent
people require the least specific direction. The situational model (the earlier version
included) has proved useful in training, and it alerts leaders to the importance of diagnosing
the readiness of group members.
A challenge in applying SLII is that the leader has to stay tuned into which task a group
member is performing at a given time, and then implement the correct style. Also, SLII
presents categories and guidelines so precisely that it gives the impression of infallibility.
Another concern is that the prescriptions from situational leadership work only part of the
time. Finally, there are few leadership situations in which a high-task, high-relationship
orientation does not produce the best results.
V. THE NORMATIVE DECISION MODEL

Another contingency viewpoint is that leaders must choose a style that elicits the correct degree of
group participation when making decisions. The normative decision model views leadership as a
decision-making process in which the leader examines certain factors in the situation to determine
which decision-making style will be the most effective.
A. Decision-Making Styles

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 Chapter 5: Contingency and Situational Leadership 45

The five decision-making styles in the model are based on the degree of participation by
group members; from to least to most they are Decide, Consult (Individually), Consult
(Group), Facilitate, and Delegate.
B. Contingency Factors and Application of the Model
The leader diagnoses the situation in terms of seven variables. Based on answers to these
variables, the leader or manager follows the path through decision matrices to choose one of
the five decision-making styles. The model has a version for either making a decision under
pressure, or with the desire to develop group members. The seven variables are as follows:
decision significance; importance of commitment; leader expertise; likelihood of
commitment; group support; group expertise; and team competence.
Accurate answers to the seven situational variables can be challenging to obtain. The model,
however, provides a few useful clues about making individual versus group decisions:
1. A consultative or collaborative decision-making style is best when information from
others is needed to solve the problem, the problem is not clearly defined, and there is enough
time for a group decision.
2. A decide decision –making style (making the decision oneself) is recommended when the
leader has more expertise, is confident, the team will mostly likely accept the decision, and
time is limited.

VI. LEADER-MEMBER EXCHANGE (LMX) AND C ONTINGENCY THEORY

Leaders who adapt their style to different individuals within the group, or have different quality
relationships with individual members, are essentially practicing contingency leadership. Here we
present several conclusions from LMX research that suggests a contingency approach to
leadership.
1. Leaders tend to give members of their in-group more favorable performance ratings than they
give to out-group members, even when their objective performance is the same.
2. Leaders do not always develop entirely different relationships with each group member, but
may respond the same way to a few members of the group.
3. In larger groups, there tends to be more differences with respect to leader-member exchanges.
4. A manager is more likely to act as a servant leader toward subordinates with whom he or she
has high-quality exchanges.
5. Leaders are more likely to empower group members with whom they have a high-quality
exchange (or good relationship) because they are more likely to trust those members.
6. Larger differences in leader-member exchanges tend to lead to higher team performance when
the LMX-quality median is low. In contrast, when the LMX-quality median is high,
differences in leader-member exchanges are not related to team performance.

VII. LEADERSHIP DURING A CRISIS

Leading during a crisis can be regarded as contingency leadership because the situation demands
that the leader emphasize certain behaviors, attitudes, and traits. Crisis leadership is the process
of leading group members through a sudden, largely unanticipated, intensely negative, and

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 CHAPTER III.
OLD GOA AS IT WAS.

“Señor,” said our cicerone, entering unannounced, at about ten . .,

“it is time for your Excellency to prepare for an interview with his
Excellency the Governor-General of all the Indies; and if it meet with
your approbation, we can see the library, and the celebrated statue of
Alfonso de Albuquerque on our way to the palacio.”
The horses were soon saddled, and the Señor was with some difficulty
persuaded to mount. En route his appearance afforded no small
amusement to his fellow townsmen, who grinned from ear to ear seeing
him clinging to the saddle, and holding on by the bridle, with his back
hunched, and his shoulders towering above his ears like those of an
excited cat. The little Maharatta “man-eater”[11] was dancing with
disgust at this peculiar style of equitation, and the vivacity of his
movements so terrified the Señor, that, to our extreme regret, he chose
the first moment to dismount under pretext of introducing us to
Albuquerque.
The statue of that hero stands under a whitewashed dome, in a small
square opposite the east front of the Barracks. It is now wrapped up in
matting, having lately received such injuries that it was deemed
advisable to send to Portugal for a new nose and other requisites.
The library disappointed us. We had heard that it contained many
volumes collected from the different religious houses by order of the
government, and thus saved from mildew and the white ants. Of course,
we expected a variety of MSS. and publications upon the subject of
Oriental languages and history, as connected with the Portuguese
settlements. The catalogue, however, soon informed us that it was a mere
ecclesiastical library, dotted here and there with the common classical
authors; a few old books of travels; some volumes of history, and a
number of musty disquisitions on ethics, politics, and metaphysics. We
could find only three Oriental works—a Syriac book printed at Oxford, a
manuscript Dictionary, and a Grammar of the Concanee dialect of
Maharatta.
 Arrived at the palace, we sent in our card, and were desired to walk
up. We were politely received by an aide-de-camp, who, after
ascertaining that we could speak a few words of Portuguese, left the
room to inform the Governor of that prodigious fact, which, doubtless,
procured us the honour of an interview with that exalted personage. It
did not last long enough to be tedious, still we were not sorry when his
Excellency retired with the excuse of public business, and directed the
aide-de-camp to show us about the building. There was not much to be
seen in it, except a tolerably extensive library, a private chapel, and a
suite of lofty and spacious saloons, with enormous windows, and without
furniture; containing the portraits of all the Governors and Viceroys of
Portuguese India. The collection is, or rather has been, a valuable one;
unfortunately some Goth, by the order of some worse than Goth, has
renewed and revived many of the best and oldest pictures, till they have
assumed a most ludicrous appearance. The handsome and chivalrous-
looking knights have been taught to resemble the Saracen’s Head, the
Marquis of Granby, and other sign-post celebrities in England. An artist
is, however, it is said, coming from Portugal, and much scraping and
varnishing may do something for the De Gamas and de Castros at
present so miserably disfigured.

And now, thank Goodness, all our troubles are over. We can start as
soon as we like for the “ruin and the waste,” merely delaying to secure a
covered boat, victual it for a few days, and lay in a store of jars of fresh
water—a necessary precaution against ague and malaria. Salvador is to
accompany us, and John Thomas has volunteered to procure us a
comfortable lodging in the Aljube, or ecclesiastical prison.
A couple of hours’ steady rowing will land us at old Goa. As there is
nothing to be said about the banks which are lined with the eternal
succession of villages, palaces, villas, houses, cottages, gardens, and
cocoa-nut trees; instead of lingering upon the uninteresting details, we
will pass the time in drawing out a short historical sketch of the hapless
city’s fortunes.
It is not, we believe, generally known that there are two old Goas.
Ancient old Goa stood on the south coast of the island, about two miles
from its more modern namesake. Ferishteh, and the other Moslem
annalists of India allude to it as a great and celebrated seaport in the
olden time. It was governed by its own Rajah, who held it in fief from
the Princes of Beejanugger and the Carnatic. In the fifteenth century it
was taken by the Moslem monarchs of the Bahmani line. Even before the
arrival of the Portuguese in India the inhabitants began to desert their old
seaport and migrate to the second Goa. Of the ancient Hindoo town no
traces now remain, except some wretched hovels clustering round a
parish church. Desolation and oblivion seem to have claimed all but the
name of the place, and none but the readers of musty annals and worm-
eaten histories are aware that such a city ever existed.
The modern old Goa was built about nineteen years before the arrival
of Vasco de Gama at Calicut, an event fixed by the historian, Faria, on
20th of May, 1498. It was taken from the Moors or Moslems by
Albuquerque, about thirty years after its foundation—a length of time
amply sufficient to make it a place of importance, considering the
mushroom-like rapidity with which empires and their capitals shoot up in
the East. Governed by a succession of viceroys, many of them the
bravest and wisest of the Portuguese nation, Goa soon rose to a height of
power, wealth, and magnificence almost incredible. But the introduction
of the Jesuits, the Holy Tribunal, and its fatal offspring, religious
persecution; pestilence, and wars with European and native powers,
disturbances arising from an unsettled home government, and, above all
things, the slow but sure workings of the short-sighted policy of the
Portuguese in intermarrying and identifying themselves with Hindoos of
the lowest castes, made her fall as rapid as her rise was sudden and
prodigious. In less than a century and a half after De Gama landed on the
shore of India, the splendour of Goa had departed for ever. Presently the
climate changed in that unaccountable manner often witnessed in hot and
tropical countries. Every one fled from the deadly fever that raged within
the devoted precincts, and the villages around began to thrive upon the
decay of the capital. At last, in 1758, the viceroy, a namesake of
Albuquerque, transferred his habitual residence to Panjim. Soon
afterwards the Jesuits were expelled, and their magnificent convents and
churches were left all but utterly deserted. The Inquisition[12] was
suppressed when the Portuguese court was at Rio Janeiro, at the
recommendation of the British Government—one of those good deeds
with which our native land atones for a multitude of minor sins.
The descriptions of Goa in her palmy days are, thanks to the many
travellers that visited the land, peculiarly graphic and ample.
 First in the list, by seniority, stands Linschoten, a native of Haarlem,
who travelled to the capital of Portuguese India about 1583, in company
with the Archbishop Fre Vincent de Fonçega. After many years spent in
the East, he returned to his native country, and published his travels,
written in old French. The book is replete with curious information.
Linschoten’s account of the riches and splendour of Goa would be
judged exaggerated, were they not testified to by a host of other
travellers. It is described as the finest, largest, and most magnificent city
in India: its villas almost merited the title of palaces, and seemed to be
built for the purpose of displaying the wealth and magnificence of the
erectors. It is said that during the prosperous times of the Portuguese in
India, you could not have seen a bit of “iron in any merchant’s house, but
all gold and silver.” They coined an immense quantity of the precious
metals, and used to make pieces of workmanship in them for exportation.
They were a nation of traders, and the very soldiers enriched themselves
by commerce. After nine years’ service, all those that came from
Portugal were entitled to some command, either by land or sea; they
frequently, however, rejected government employ on account of being
engaged in the more lucrative pursuit of trade. The viceroyalty of Goa
was one of the most splendid appointments in the world. There were five
other governments, namely—Mozambique, Malacca, Ormus, Muscat,
and Ceylon, the worst of which was worth ten thousand crowns (about
two thousand pounds) per annum—an enormous sum in those days.
The celebrated Monsieur Tavernier, Baron of Aubonne, visited Goa
twice; first in 1641, the second time seven years afterwards. In his day
the city was declining rapidly,[13] and even during the short period that
elapsed between his two voyages, he remarked that many whom he had
known as people of fashion, with above two thousand crowns revenue,
were reduced to visiting him privately in the evening, and begging for
alms. Still, he observed, “they abated nothing, for all that, of their
inherent pride and haughtiness.” He pays no compliment to the
Portuguese character: “They are the most revengeful persons, and the
most jealous of their wives in the world, and where the least suspicion
creeps into their saddles, they rid themselves of them either by poison or
dagger.” The baron had no cause for complaint in his reception at Goa by
the viceroy, Don Philip de Mascaregnas, who “made him very welcome,
and esteeming much a pistol, curiously inlaid,” which the traveller
presented to him, sent for him five or six times to the Powder-house, or
old palace. That viceroy seems, however, to have been a dangerous host.
He was a most expert poisoner, and had used his skill most diligently,
ridding himself of many enemies, when governor of Ceylon. At Goa he
used to admit no one to his table—even his own family was excluded.
He was the richest Portuguese noble that ever left the East, especially in
diamonds, of which he had a large parcel containing none but stones
between ten and forty carats weight. The Goanese hated him, hung him
in effigy before his departure, and when he died on the voyage, reported
that he had been poisoned in the ship—a judgment from Heaven.
Monsieur Tavernier visited the Inquisition, where he was received
with sundry “searching questions” concerning his faith, the Protestant.
During the interview, the Inquisitor “told him that he was welcome,
calling out at the same time, for some other persons to enter. Thereupon,
the hangings being held up, came in ten or twelve persons out of a room
hard by.” They were assured that the traveller possessed no prohibited
books; the prudent Tavernier had left even his Bible behind him. The
Inquisidor Mor[14] discoursed with him for a couple of hours, principally
upon the subject of his wanderings, and, three days afterwards, sent him
a polite invitation to dinner.
But a well-known practice of the Holy Tribunal—namely, that of
confiscating the gold, silver, and jewels of every prisoner, to defray the
expenses of the process—had probably directed the Inquisitor’s attention
to so rich a traveller as the baron was. Tavernier had, after all, rather a
narrow escape from the Holy Office, in spite of its civilities. When about
to leave Goa, he imprudently requested and obtained from the Viceroy,
permission to take with him one Mons. de Belloy, a countryman in
distress. This individual had deserted from the Dutch to the Portuguese,
and was kindly received by them. At Macao, however, he lost his temper
at play, and “cursed the portraiture of some Papistical saint, as the cause
of his ill-luck.” For this impiety he was forthwith sent by the Provincial
Inquisitor to Goa, but he escaped the stake by private interest with the
Viceroy,[15] and was punished only by “wearing old clothes, which were
all to tatters and full of vermin.” When Tavernier and his friend set sail,
the latter “became very violent, and swore against the Inquisition like a
madman.” That such procedure was a dangerous one was proved by
Mons. de Belloy’s fate. He was rash enough to return some months
afterwards to Goa, where he remained two years in the dungeons of the
Holy Office, “from which he was not discharged but with a sulphured
shirt, and a St. Andrew’s cross upon his stomach.” The unfortunate man
was eventually taken prisoner by the enraged “Hollanders,” put into a
sack, and thrown into the sea, as a punishment for desertion.

R. Burton delᵗ. Printed by Hullmandel & Walton.

VIEW OF OLD GOA FROM THE MANDOVA

OR CREEK.
London: Richard Bentley, New Burlington Street, 1851.

About twenty-five years after Tavernier’s departure. Dellon, the

French physician, who made himself conspicuous by his “Relation de
l’Inquisition de Goa,” visited the city. By his own account, he appears to
have excited the two passions which burn fiercest in the Portuguese
bosom—jealousy and bigotry. When at Daman, his “innocent visits” to a
lady, who was loved by Manuel de Mendonça, the Governor, and a black
priest, who was secretary to the Inquisition, secured for him a pair of
powerful enemies. Being, moreover, an amateur of Scholastic Theology,
a willing disputer with heretics and schismatics, a student of the Old as
well as the New Testament, and perhaps a little dogmatical, as dilettanti
divines generally are, he presently found himself brouillé at the same
place with a Dominican friar. The Frenchman had refused to kiss the
figure of the Virgin, painted upon the lids of the alms boxes: he had
denied certain effects of the baptism, called “flaminis,” protested against
the adoration of images, and finally capped the whole by declaring that
the decrees of the Holy Tribunal are not so infallible as those of the
Divine Author of Christianity. The horror-struck auditor instantly
denounced him with a variety of additions and emendations sufficient to
make his case very likely to conclude with strangling and burning.
Perceiving a storm impending over him, our physician waited upon
the Commissary of the Inquisition, if possible to avert the now imminent
danger. That gentlemanly old person seems to have received him with
uncommon urbanity, benevolently offered much good advice, and lodged
him in jail with all possible expedition.
The prison at Daman is described as a most horrible place; hot, damp,
fetid, dark, and crowded. The inmates were half starved, and so
miserable that forty out of fifty Malabar pirates, who had been
imprisoned there, preferred strangling themselves with their turbans to
enduring the tortures of such an earthly Hades.
The first specimen of savoir faire displayed by the Doctor’s enemies
was to detain him in the Daman jail till the triennial Auto da Fé at Goa
had taken place; thereby causing for him at least two years’ delay and
imprisonment in the capital before he could be brought to trial. Having
succeeded in this they sent him heavily ironed on board a boat which
finally deposited him in the Casa Santa.[16] There he was taken before
the Mesa, or Board, stripped of all his property, and put into the
chambrette destined for his reception.
Three weary years spent in that dungeon gave Dellon ample time to
experience and reflect upon the consequences of amativeness and
disputativeness. After being thrice examined by the grand Inquisitor, and
persuaded to confess his sins by the false promise of liberty held out to
him, driven to despair by the system of solitary imprisonment, by the
cries of those who were being tortured, and by anticipations of the noose
and the faggot, he made three attempts to commit suicide. During the
early part of his convalescence he was allowed the luxury of a negro
fellow-prisoner in his cell; but when he had recovered strength this
indulgence was withdrawn. Five or six other examinations rapidly
succeeded each other, and finally, on the 11th of January, 1676, he was
fortunate enough to be present at the Auto da Fé in that garb of good
omen, the black dress with white stripes. The sentence was confiscation
of goods and chattels, banishment from India, five years of the galleys in
Portugal, and a long list of various penances to be performed during the
journey.
 On arriving at Lisbon he was sent to the hulks, but by the interest of
his fellow-countrymen he recovered his liberty in June, 1677. About
eleven years afterwards he published anonymously a little volume
containing an account of his sufferings. By so doing he broke the oaths
of secrecy administered to him by the Holy Tribunal, but probably he
found it easy enough to salve his conscience in that matter.
The next in our list stands the good Capt. Hamilton, a sturdy old
merchant militant, who infested the Eastern seas about the beginning of
the eighteenth century.
The captain’s views of the manners and customs of the people are
more interesting than his description of the city. After alluding to their
habits of intoxication he proceeds to the subject of religion, and terms
both clergy and laity “a pack of the most atrocious hypocrites in the
world;” and, at the same time, “most zealous bigots.” There were not less
than eighty churches, convents, and monasteries within view of the town,
and these were peopled by “thirty thousand church vermin who live idly
and luxuriously on the labour and sweat of the miserable laity.” Our
voyager then falls foul of the speciosa miracula of St. Francis de Xavier.
He compares the holy corpse to that of “new scalded pig,” opines that it
is a “pretty piece of wax-work that serves to gull the people,” and utterly
disbelieves that the amputated right-arm, when sent to Rome to stand its
trial for sainthood, took hold of the pen, dipped it in ink and fairly wrote
“Xavier” in full view of the sacred college.
The poverty of Goa must have been great in Capt. Hamilton’s time,
when “the houses were poorly furnished within like their owners’ heads,
and the tables and living very mean.” The army was so ill-paid and
defrauded that the soldiers were little better than common thieves and
assassins. Trade was limited to salt and arrack, distilled from the cocoa-
nut. The downfall of Goa had been hastened by the loss of Muscat to the
Arabs, a disaster brought on by the Governor’s insolent folly,[17] by an
attack made in 1660 upon the capital by a Dutch squadron, which,
though it failed in consequence of the strength of the fortifications, still
caused great loss and misery to the Portuguese, and finally by the
Maharatta war. In 1685, Seevagee, the Robert Bruce of Southern India,
got a footing in the island, and would have taken the city had he not been
—

“Foiled by a woman’s hand before a broken wall.”

 The “Maid of Goa” was one Donna Maria, a Portuguese lady, who
travelled to Goa dressed like a man in search of a perfidious swain who
had been guilty of breach of promise of marriage. She found him at last
and challenged him to the duello with sword and pistol, but the
gentleman declined the invitation, preferring to marry than to fight
Donna Maria.
A few years afterwards the Maharatta war began, and the heroine
excited by her country’s losses, and, of course, directed by inspiration,
headed a sally against Seevagee, took a redoubt, and cut all the heathen
in it to pieces. The enemy, probably struck by some superstitious terror,
precipitately quitted the island, and the Donna’s noble exploit was
rewarded with a captain’s pay for life.
We conclude with the Rev. Mons. Cottineau de Kleguen, a French
missionary, who died at Madras in 1830. His “Historical Sketch of Goa”
was published the year after his death. It is useful as a guide-book to the
buildings, and gives much information about ecclesiastical matters. In
other points it is defective in the extreme. As might be expected from a
zealous Romanist, the reverend gentleman stands up stoutly for the
inquisition in spite of his “entire impartiality,” and displays much curious
art in defending the Jesuits’ peculiar process of detaching the pagans
from idol worship, by destroying their temples and pagodas.
 CHAPTER IV.
OLD GOA AS IT IS.

The setting sun was pouring a torrent of crimson light along the Rio as
the prow of our canoe bumped against the steps of the wharf, warning us
that we had at length reached our destination. The landing-place is a little
beyond the arsenal, and commands a full view of the cathedral and other
conspicuous objects. The first glance around convinced us that we were
about to visit a city of the dead, and at once swept away the delusion
caused by the distant view of white-washed churches and towers,
glittering steeples and domes.
As such places should always, in our humble opinion, be visited for
the first time by moonlight, we spent an hour or two in ascertaining what
accommodations the Aljube, or ecclesiastical prison, would afford.
Dellon’s terrible description of the place had prepared us for “roughing
it,” but we were agreeably disappointed.[18] The whole building, with the
exception of a few upper rooms, had been cleaned, plastered, and
painted, till it presented a most respectable appearance. Salvador, it is
true, had ventured into the garrets, and returned with his pantaloons
swarming with animal life. This, however, only suggested the precaution
of placing water-pots under the legs of our “Waterloo,” and strewing the
floor with the leaves of the “sacred grass,” a vegetable luxury abounding
in this part of the world.
When the moon began to sail slowly over the eastern hills, we started
on our tour of inspection, and, as a preliminary measure, walked down
the wharf, a long and broad road, lined with double rows of trees, and
faced with stone, opposite the sea. A more suggestive scene could not be
conceived than the utter desolation which lay before us. Everything that
met the eye or ear seemed teeming with melancholy associations; the
very rustling of the trees and the murmur of the waves sounded like a
dirge for the departed grandeur of the city.
A few minutes’ walk led us to a conspicuous object on the right hand
side of the wharf. It was a solitary gateway, towering above the huge
mass of ruins which flanks the entrance to the Strada Diretta.[19] On
approaching it we observed the statue of Saint Catherine,[20] shrined in
an upper niche, and a grotesque figure of Vasco de Gama in one beneath.
Under this arch the newly-appointed viceroys of Goa used to pass in
triumphal procession towards the palace.
Beyond the gateway a level road, once a populous thoroughfare, leads
to the Terra di Sabaio, a large square, fronting the Se Primaçial or
Cathedral of Saint Catherine, and flanked by the Casa Santa. Before
visiting the latter spot we turned to the left, and ascending a heap of
ruins, looked down upon the excavation, which now marks the place
where the Viceregal Palace rose. The building, which occupied more
than two acres of ground, has long been razed from the very foundations,
and the ground on which it stood is now covered with the luxuriant
growth of poisonous plants and thorny trees. As we wandered amidst
them, a solitary jackal, slinking away from the intruder, was the only
living being that met our view, and the deep bell of the cathedral,
marking the lapse of time for dozens, where hundreds of thousands had
once hearkened to it, the only sound telling of man’s presence that
reached our ear.
In the streets beyond, nothing but the foundations of the houses could
be traced, the tall cocoa and the lank grass waving rankly over many a
forgotten building. In the only edifices which superstition has hitherto
saved, the churches, convents, and monasteries, a window or two, dimly
lighted up, showed that here and there dwells some solitary priest. The
whole scene reminded us of the Arab’s eloquent description of the “city
with impenetrable gates, still, without a voice or a cheery inhabitant: the
owl hooting in its quarters, and birds skimming in circles in its areas, and
the raven croaking in its great thoroughfare streets, as if bewailing those
that had been in it.” What a contrast between the moonlit scenery of the
distant bay, smiling in all eternal Nature’s loveliness, and the dull grey
piles of ruined or desolate habitations, the short-lived labours of man!
We turned towards the Casa Santa, and with little difficulty climbed to
the top of the heaps which mark the front where its three gates stood. In
these remains the eye, perhaps influenced by imagination, detects
something more than usually dreary. A curse seems to have fallen upon
it; not a shrub springs between the fragments of stone, which, broken and
blackened with decay, are left to encumber the soil, as unworthy of being
removed.
Whilst we were sitting there, an old priest, who was preparing to
perform mass in the cathedral, came up and asked what we were doing.
 “Looking at the Casa Santa,” we answered. He inquired if we were
Christian, meaning, of course, Roman Catholic. We replied in the
affirmative, intending, however, to use the designation in its ampler
sense.
“Ah, very well,” replied our interrogator. “I put the question, because
the heretics from Bombay and other places always go to see the Casa
Santa first in order to insult its present state.”
And the Señor asked us whether we would attend mass at the
cathedral; we declined, however, with a promise to admire its beauties
the next day, and departed once more on our wanderings.
For an hour or two we walked about without meeting a single human
being. Occasionally we could detect a distant form disappearing from the
road, and rapidly threading its way through the thick trees as we drew
near. Such precaution is still deemed necessary at Goa, though the
inducements to robbery or violence, judging from the appearance of the
miserable inhabitants, must be very small.
At last, fatigued with the monotony of the ruins and the length of the
walk, we retraced our steps, and passing down the Strada Diretta, sat
under the shade of a tree facing the Rio. Nothing could be more
delicately beautiful than the scene before us—the dark hills, clothed with
semi-transparent mist, the little streams glistening like lines of silver
over the opposite plain, and the purple surface of the creek stretched at
our feet. Most musically too, the mimic waves splashed against the
barrier of stone, and the soft whisperings of the night breeze alternately
rose and fell in unison with the voice of the waters.
Suddenly we heard, or thought we heard, a groan proceeding from
behind the tree. It was followed by the usual Hindoo ejaculation of
“Ram! Ram!”[21]
Our curiosity was excited. We rose from our seat and walked towards
the place whence the sound came.
By the clear light of the moon we could distinguish the emaciated
form and features of an old Jogee.[22] He was sparingly dressed, in the
usual ochre-coloured cotton clothes, and sat upon the ground, with his
back against the trunk of the tree. As he caught sight of us, he raised
himself upon his elbow, and began to beg in the usual whining tone.
 “Thy gift will serve for my funeral,” he said with a faint smile,
pointing to a few plantain leaf platters, containing turmeric, red powder,
rice, and a few other similar articles.
We inquired into what he considered the signs and symptoms of
approaching dissolution. It was a complaint that must have caused him
intense pain, which any surgeon could have instantly alleviated. We told
him what medical skill could do, offered to take him at once where
assistance could be procured, and warned him that the mode of suicide
which he proposed to carry out, would be one of most agonising
description.
“I consider this disease a token from the Bhagwán (the Almighty) that
this form of existence is finished!” and he stedfastly refused all aid.
We asked whether pain might not make him repent his decision,
perhaps too late. His reply was characteristic of his caste. Pointing to a
long sabre cut, which seamed the length of his right side, he remarked,
“I have been a soldier—under your rule. If I feared not death in
fighting at the word of the Feringee, am I likely, do you think, to shrink
from it when the Deity summons me?”
It is useless to argue with these people; so we confined ourselves to
inquiring what had made him leave the Company’s service.
He told us the old story, the cause of half the asceticism in the East—a
disappointment in an affaire de cœur. After rising to the rank of naick, or
corporal, very rapidly, in consequence of saving the life of an officer at
the siege of Poonah, he and a comrade obtained leave of absence, and
returned to their native hamlet, in the Maharatta hills. There he fell in
love, desperately, as Orientals only can, with the wife of the village
Brahman. A few months afterwards the husband died, and it was
determined by the caste brethren that the relict should follow him, by the
Suttee rite. The soldier, however, resolved to save her, and his comrade,
apprised of his plans, promised to aid him with heart and hand.
The pyre was heaped up, and surrounded by a throng of gazers
collected to witness the ceremony, so interesting and exciting to a
superstitious people.
At length the Suttee appeared, supported by her female relations,
down the path opened to her by the awe-struck crowd. Slowly she
ascended the pile of firewood; and, after distributing little gifts to those
around, sat down, with the head of the deceased in her lap. At each of the
four corners of the pyre was a Brahman, chaunting some holy song.
Presently the priest who stood fronting the south-east, retired to fetch the
sacred fire.
Suddenly a horseman, clad in yellow clothes,[23] dashed out of a
neighbouring thicket. Before any had time to oppose him, his fierce little
Maharatta pony clove the throng, and almost falling upon his haunches
with the effort, stood motionless by the side of the still unlit pyre. At that
instant the widow, assisted by a friendly hand, rose from her seat, and
was clasped in the horseman’s arms.
One touch of the long Maharatta spur, and the pony again bounds,
plunging through the crowd, towards the place whence he came. Another
moment and they will be saved!
Just as the fugitives are disappearing behind the thicket, an arrow shot
from the bow of a Rankari,[24] missing its mark, pierces deep into the
widow’s side.

The soldier buried his paramour under the tree where we were sitting.
Life had no longer any charms for him. He never returned to his corps,
and resolved to devote himself to futurity.
It was wonderful, considering the pain he must have been enduring, to
hear him relate his tale so calmly and circumstantially.
The next morning, when we passed by the spot, three or four half-
naked figures, in the holy garb, were sitting like mourners round the
body of the old Jogee.
Strange the contempt for life shown by all these metempsychosists.
Had we saved that man by main force—an impossibility, by the by,
under the circumstances of the case—he would have cursed us, during
the remnant of his days, for committing an act of bitter and unprovoked
enmity. With the Hindoo generally, death is a mere darkening of the
stage in the mighty theatre of mundane life. To him the Destroyer
appears unaccompanied by the dread ideas of the Moslem tomb-
torments, or the horror with which the Christian[25] looks towards the
Great Day; and if Judgment, and its consecutive state of reward or
punishment, be not utterly unknown to him, his mind is untrained to
dwell upon such events. Consequently, with him Death has lost half his
sting, and the Pyre can claim no victory over him.

Old Goa has few charms when seen by the light of day. The places
usually visited are the Se Primaçial (Cathedral), the nunnery of Santa
Monaca, and the churches of St. Francis, St. Gaetano, and Bom Jesus.
The latter contains the magnificent tomb of St. Francis Xavier. His
saintship, however, is no longer displayed to reverential gazers in
mummy or “scalded pig” form. Altogether we reckoned about thirty
buildings. Many of them were falling to ruins, and others were being, or
had been, partially demolished. The extraordinary amount of havoc
committed during the last thirty[26] years, is owing partly to the poverty
of the Portuguese. Like the modern Romans, they found it cheaper to
carry away cut stone, than to quarry it; but, unlike the inhabitants of the
Eternal City, they have now no grand object in preserving the ruins. At
Panjim, we were informed that even the wood-work that decorates some
of the churches, had been put up for sale.
The edifices, which are still in good repair, may be described in very
few words. They are, generally speaking, large rambling piles, exposing
an extensive surface of white-washed wall, surmounted by sloping roofs
of red tile, with lofty belfries and small windows. The visitor will admire
the vastness of the design, the excellence of the position, and the
adaptation of the architecture to the country and climate. But there his
praise will cease. With the exception of some remarkable wood-work,
the minor decorations of paintings and statues are inferior to those of any
Italian village church. As there is no such thing as coloured marble in the
country, parts of the walls are painted exactly in the style of a small
cabaret in the south of France. The frescoes are of the most grotesque
description. Pontius Pilate is accommodated with a huge Turkish turban;
and the other saints and sinners appear in costumes equally curious in an
historical and pictorial point of view. Some groups, as for instance the
Jesuit martyrs upon the walls of Saint Francis, are absolutely ludicrous.
Boiled, roasted, grilled and hashed missionaries, looking more like seals
than men, gaze upon you with an eternal smile. A semi-decapitated
individual stands bolt upright during the painful process which is being
performed by a score of grim-looking heathen. And black savages are
uselessly endeavouring to stick another dart in the epidermis of some
unfortunate, whose body has already become more

“Like an Egyptian porcupig”

than aught human. One may fancy what an exhibition it is, from the
following fact. Whenever a picture or fresco fades, the less brilliant parts
are immediately supplied with a coating of superior vividness by the
hand of a common house-decorator. They reminded us forcibly of the
studio of an Anglo-Indian officer, who, being devotedly fond of pictorial
pursuits, and rather pinched for time withal, used to teach his black
servants to lay the blue, green, and brown on the canvas, and when he
could spare a leisure moment, return to scrape, brush, and glaze the
colour into sky, trees, and ground.
Very like the paintings is the sculpture: it presents a series of
cherubims, angels, and saints, whose very aspect makes one shudder, and
think of Frankenstein. Stone is sometimes, wood the material generally
used. The latter is almost always painted to make the statue look as
unlike life as possible.
Yet in spite of these disenchanting details, a feeling not unallied to
awe creeps over one when wandering down the desert aisles, or through
the crowdless cloisters. In a cathedral large enough for a first-rate city in
Europe, some twenty or thirty native Christians may be seen at their
devotions, and in monasteries built for hundreds of monks, a single priest
is often the only occupant. The few human beings that meet the eye,
increase rather than diminish the dismal effect of the scene; as sepulchral
looking as the spectacle around them, their pallid countenances, and
emaciated forms seem so many incarnations of the curse of desolation
which still hovers over the ruins of Old Goa.

We felt curious to visit the nunnery of Santa Monaca, an order said to

be strict in the extreme. The nuns are called madres (mothers) by the
natives, in token of respect, and are supposed to lead a very correct life.
Most of these ladies are born in the country; they take the veil at any age
when favoured with a vocation.
 Our curiosity was disappointed. All we saw was a variety of black
handmaids, and the portress, an antiquated lay sister, who insisted upon
our purchasing many rosaries and sweetmeats. Her garrulity was
excessive; nothing would satisfy her desire for mastering the intricacies
of modern Portuguese annals but a long historical sketch by us fancifully
impromptued. Her heart manifestly warmed towards us when we gave
her the information required. Upon the strength of it she led us into a
most uninteresting chapel, and pointed out the gallery occupied by the
nuns during divine service. As, however, a close grating and a curtain
behind it effectually conceal the spot from eyes profane, we derived little
advantage from her civility. We hinted and hinted that an introduction to
the prioress would be very acceptable—in vain; and when taking heart of
grace we openly asked permission to view the cloisters, which are said to
be worth seeing, the amiable old soror replied indignantly, that it was
utterly impossible. It struck us forcibly that there was some mystery in
the case, and accordingly determined to hunt it out.
“Did the Sahib tell them that he is an Englishman?” asked Salvador,
after at least an hour’s hesitation, falsification, and prevarication
produced by a palpable desire to evade the subject.
We answered affirmatively, and inquired what our country had to do
with our being refused admittance?
“Everything,” remarked Salvador. He then proceeded to establish the
truth of his assertion by a variety of distorted and disjointed fragments of
an adventure, which the labour of our ingenious cross-questioning
managed to put together in the following form.
“About ten years ago,” said Salvador, “I returned to Goa with my
master, Lieut. ⸺⸺, of the — Regt., a very clever gentleman, who knew
everything. He could talk to each man of a multitude in his own
language, and all of them would appear equally surprised by, and
delighted with him. Besides, his faith was every man’s faith. In a certain
Mussulmanee country he married a girl, and divorced her a week
afterwards. Moreover, he chaunted the Koran, and the circumcised dogs
considered him a kind of saint. The Hindoos also respected him, because
he always eat his beef in secret, spoke religiously of the cow, and had a
devil, (i.e., some heathen image) in an inner room. At Cochin he went to
the Jewish place of worship, and read a large book, just like a priest. Ah!
he was a clever Sahib that! he could send away a rampant and raging
creditor playful as a little goat, and borrow more money from Parsees at
less interest than was ever paid or promised by any other gentleman in
the world.
“At last my master came to Goa, where of course he became so pious
a Christian that he kept a priest in the house—to perfect him in
Portuguese—and attended mass once a day. And when we went to see
the old city, such were the fervency of his lamentations over the ruins of
the Inquisition, and the frequency of his dinners to the Padre of Saint
Francis, that the simple old gentleman half canonized him in his heart.
But I guessed that some trick was at hand, when a pattimar, hired for a
month, came and lay off the wharf stairs, close to where the Sahib is now
sitting; and presently it appeared that my officer had indeed been
cooking a pretty kettle of fish!
“My master had been spending his leisure hours with the Prioress of
Santa Monaca, who—good lady—when informed by him that his sister,
a young English girl, was only waiting till a good comfortable quiet
nunnery could be found for her, not only showed her new friend about
the cloisters and dormitories, but even introduced him to some of the
nuns. Edifying it must have been to see his meek countenance as he
detailed to the Madres his well-digested plans for the future welfare of
that apocryphal little child, accompanied with a thousand queries
concerning the style of living, the moral and religious education, the
order and the discipline of the convent. The Prioress desired nothing
more than to have an English girl in her house—except, perhaps, the
monthly allowance of a hundred rupees which the affectionate brother
insisted upon making to her.
“You must know, Sahib, that the madres are, generally speaking, by no
means good-looking. They wear ugly white clothes, and cut their hair
short, like a man’s. But, the Latin professor—”
“The who?”
“The Latin professor, who taught the novices and the younger nuns
learning, was a very pretty white girl, with large black eyes, a modest
smile, and a darling of a figure. As soon as I saw that Latin professor’s
face, I understood the whole nature and disposition of the affair.
“My master at first met with some difficulty, because the professor did
not dare to look at him, and, besides, was always accompanied by an
elder sister.”
“Then, how did he manage?”
 “Hush, sir, for Santa Maria’s sake; here comes the priest of Bom Jesus,
to return the Sahib’s call.”
 CHAPTER V.
RETURN TO PANJIM.

Once more the canoe received us under its canopy, and the boatmen’s
oars, plunging into the blue wave, sounded an adieu to old Goa. After the
last long look, with which the departing vagrant contemplates a spot
where he has spent a happy day or two, we mentally reverted to the
adventure of the Latin professor, and made all preparations for hearing it
to the end.
“Well, Sahib,” resumed Salvador, “I told you that my master’s known
skill in such matters was at first baffled by the professor’s bashfulness,
and the presence of a grim-looking sister. But he was not a man to be
daunted by difficulties: in fact, he became only the more ardent in the
pursuit. By dint of labour and perseverance, he succeeded in bringing the
lady to look at him, and being rather a comely gentleman, that was a
considerable point gained. Presently her eternal blushings gave way,
though occasionally one would pass over her fair face when my master’s
eyes lingered a little too long there: the next step in advance was the
selection of an aged sister, who, being half blind with conning over her
breviary, and deaf as a dead donkey, made a very suitable escort.”
“Pray, how did you learn all these particulars?”
“Ah, Sahib,” replied Salvador, “my master became communicative
enough when he wanted my services, and during the trip which we
afterwards made down the coast.
“I was now put forward in the plot. After two days spent in lecturing
me as carefully as a young girl is primed for her first confession, I was
sent up to the nunnery with a bundle of lies upon my tongue, and a fatal
necessity for telling them under pain of many kicks. I did it, but my
repentance has been sincere, so may the Virgin forgive me!” ejaculated
Salvador, with fervent piety, crossing himself at the same time.
“And, Sahib, I also carried a present of some Cognac—called
European medicine—to the prioress, and sundry similar little gifts to the
other officials, not excepting the Latin professor. To her, I presented a
nosegay, containing a little pink note, whose corner just peeped out of
the chambeli[27] blossoms. With fear and trembling I delivered it, and
was overjoyed to see her presently slip out of the room. She returned in
time to hear me tell the prioress that my master was too ill to wait upon
them that day, and by the young nun’s earnest look as she awaited my
answer to the superior’s question concerning the nature of the complaint,
I concluded that the poor thing was in a fair way for perdition. My reply
relieved their anxiety. Immediately afterwards their curiosity came into
play. A thousand questions poured down upon me, like the pitiless
pelting of a monsoon rain. My master’s birth, parentage, education,
profession, travels, rank, age, fortune, religion, and prospects, were
demanded and re-demanded, answered and re-answered, till my brain
felt tired. According to instructions, I enlarged upon his gallantry in
action, his chastity and temperance, his love for his sister, and his sincere
devotion to the Roman Catholic faith.”
“A pretty specimen of a rascal you proved yourself, then!”
“What could I do, Sahib?” said Salvador, with a hopeless shrug of the
shoulders, and an expression of profound melancholy. “My master never
failed to find out a secret, and had I deceived him—”
“Well!”
“My allusion to the sister provoked another outburst of
inquisitiveness. On this subject, also, I satisfied them by a delightful
description of the dear little creature, whose beauty attracted, juvenile
piety edified, and large fortune enchanted every one. The eyes of the old
prioress glistened from behind her huge cheeks, as I dwelt upon the latter
part of the theme especially: but I remarked the Latin professor was so
little interested by it, that she had left the room. When she returned, a
book, bound in dirty white parchment, with some huge letters painted on
the back of the binding, was handed over to me for transmission to my
master; who, it appears, had been very anxious to edify his mind by
perusing the life of the holy Saint Augustine.
“After at least three hours spent in perpetual conversation, and the
occasional discussion of mango cheese, I was allowed to depart, laden
with messages, amidst a shower of benedictions upon my master’s head,
prayers for his instant recovery, and anticipations of much pleasure in
meeting him.
“I should talk till we got to Calicut, Sahib, if I were to detail to you the
adventures of the ensuing fortnight. My master passed two nights in the
cloisters—not praying, I suppose; the days he spent in conversation with
the prioress and sub-prioress, two holy personages who looked rather
like Guzerat apes than mortal women. At the end of the third week a
swift-sailing pattimar made its appearance.
“I was present when my master took leave of the Superior, and an
affecting sight it was; the fervour with which he kissed the hand of his
‘second mother,’ his ‘own dear sister’s future protectress.’ How often he
promised to return from Bombay, immediately that the necessary
preparations were made! how carefully he noted down the many little
commissions entrusted to him! And, how naturally his eyes moistened
as, receiving the benediction, he withdrew from the presence of the
reverend ladies!
“But that same pattimar was never intended for Bombay; I knew !
“My master and I immediately packed up everything. Before sunset all
the baggage and servants were sent on board, with the exception of
myself, who was ordered to sit under the trees on the side of the wharf,
and an Affghan scoundrel, who went out walking with the Sahib about
eleven o’clock that night. The two started, in native dresses, with their
turbans concealing all but the parts about their eyes; both carried naked
knives, long and bright enough to make one shake with fear, tucked
under their arms, with dark lanterns in their hands. My master’s face—as
usual when he went upon such expeditions—was blackened, and with all
respect, speaking in your presence, I never saw an English gentleman
look more like a Mussulman thief!”
“But why make such preparations against a house full of unprotected
women?”
“Because, Sahib,” replied Salvador, “at night there are always some
men about the nunnery. The knives, however, were only in case of an
accident; for, as I afterwards learned, the Latin professor had mixed up a
little datura[28] seed with the tobacco served out to the guards that
evening.
“A little after midnight I felt a kick, and awoke. Two men hurried me
on board the pattimar, which had weighed anchor as the clock struck
twelve. Putting out her sweeps she glided down the Rio swiftly and
noiselessly.
“When the drowsiness of sleep left my eyelids I observed that the two
men were my master and that ruffian Khudadad. I dared not, however,
ask any questions, as they both looked fierce as wounded tigers, though
the Sahib could not help occasionally showing a kind of smile. They
went to the head of the boat, and engaged in deep conversation, through
the medium of some tongue to me unknown; and it was not before we
had passed under the guns of the Castello, and were dancing merrily over
the blue water, that my officer retired to his bed.
“And what became of the Latin professor?”
“The Sahib shall hear presently. In the morning I was called up for
examination, but my innocence bore me through that trial safely. My
master naturally enough suspected me of having played him some trick.
The impression, however, soon wore off, and I was favoured with the
following detail of his night’s adventure.
“Exactly as the bell struck twelve, my Sahib and his cut-throat had
taken their stand outside the little door leading into the back-garden.
According to agreement previously made, one of them began to bark like
a jackal, while the other responded regularly with the barking of a watch-
dog. After some minutes spent in this exercise they carefully opened the
door with a false key, stole through the cloisters, having previously
forced the lock of the grating with their daggers, and made their way
towards the room where the Latin professor slept. But my master, in the
hurry of the moment, took the wrong turning, and found himself in the
chamber of the sub-prioress, whose sleeping form was instantly raised,
embraced, and borne off in triumph by the exulting Khudadad.
“My officer lingered for a few minutes to ascertain that all was right.
He then crept out of the room, closed the door outside, passed through
the garden, carefully locked the gate, whose key he threw away, and ran
towards the place where he had appointed to meet Khudadad, and his
lovely burthen. But imagine his horror and disgust when, instead of the
expected large black eyes and the pretty little rosebud of a mouth, a pair
of rolling yellow balls glared fearfully in his face, and two big black lips,
at first shut with terror, began to shout and scream and abuse him with all
their might.
“‘Khudadad, we have eaten filth,’ said my master, ‘how are we to lay
this she-devil?’
“‘Cut her throat?’ replied the ruffian.
“‘No, that won’t do. Pinion her arms, gag her with your handkerchief,
and leave her—we must be off instantly.’
 “So they came on board, and we set sail as I recounted to your
honour.”
“But why didn’t your master, when he found out his mistake, return
for the Latin professor?”
“Have I not told the Sahib that the key of the garden-gate had been
thrown away, the walls cannot be scaled, and all the doors are bolted and
barred every night as carefully as if a thousand prisoners were behind
them?”

The population of Goa is composed of three heterogeneous elements,

namely, pure Portuguese, black Christians, and the heathenry. A short
description of each order will, perhaps, be acceptable to the reader.
The European portion of Goanese society may be subdivided into two
distinct parts—the officials, who visit India on their tour of service, and
the white families settled in the country. The former must leave Portugal
for three years; and if in the army get a step by so doing. At the same
time as, unlike ourselves, they derive no increase of pay from the
expatriation, their return home is looked forward to with great
impatience. Their existence in the East must be one of endurance. They
complain bitterly of their want of friends, the disagreeable state of
society, and the dull stagnant life they are compelled to lead. They
despise their dark brethren, and consider them uncouth in manner,
destitute of usage in society, and deficient in honour, courage,[29] and
manliness. The despised retort by asserting that the white Portuguese are
licentious, ill-informed, haughty, and reserved. No better proof of how
utterly the attempt to promote cordiality between the European and the
Asiatic by a system of intermarriage and equality of rights has failed in
practice can be adduced, than the utter contempt in which the former
holds the latter at Goa. No Anglo-Indian Nabob sixty years ago ever
thought less of a “nigger” than a Portuguese officer now does. But as
there is perfect equality, political[30] as well as social, between the two
colours, the “whites,” though reduced to the level of the herd, hold aloof
from it; and the “blacks” feel able to associate with those who despise
them but do so rarely and unwillingly. Few open signs of dislike appear
to the unpractised observer in the hollow politeness always paraded
whenever the two parties meet; but when a Portuguese gentleman
becomes sufficiently intimate with a stranger to be communicative, his
first political diatribe is directed against his dark fellow-subjects. We
were assured by a high authority that the native members of a court-
martial, if preponderating, would certainly find a European guilty,
whether rightly or wrongly, n’importe. The same gentleman, when asked
which method of dealing with the natives he preferred, Albuquerque’s or
that of Leadenhall Street, unhesitatingly replied, “the latter, as it is better
to keep one’s enemies out of doors.” How like the remark made to Sir A.
Burnes by Runjeet Singh, the crafty old politician of Northern India.
The reader may remember that it was Albuquerque[31] who advocated
marriages between the European settlers and the natives of India.
However reasonable it might have been to expect the amalgamation of
the races in the persons of their descendants, experience and stern facts
condemn the measure as a most delusive and treacherous political day
dream. It has lost the Portuguese almost everything in Africa as well as
Asia. May Heaven preserve our rulers from following their example! In
our humble opinion, to tolerate it is far too liberal a measure to be a safe
one.
The white families settled in the country were formerly called
Castissos to distinguish them from Reinols. In appearance there is little
difference between them; the former are somewhat less robust than the
latter, but both are equally pallid and sickly-looking—they dress alike,
and allow the beard and mustachios[32] to grow. This colonist class is
neither a numerous nor an influential one. As soon as intermarriage with
the older settlers takes place the descendants become Mestici—in plain
English, mongrels. The flattering term is occasionally applied to a white
family which has been settled in the country for more than one
generation, “for although,” say the Goanese, “there is no mixture of
blood, still there has been one of air or climate, which comes to the same
thing.” Owing to want of means, the expense of passage, and the
unsettled state of the home country, children are very seldom sent to
Portugal for education. They presently degenerate, from the slow but
sure effects of a debilitating climate, and its concomitant evils, inertness,
and want of excitement. Habituated from infancy to utter idleness, and
reared up to consider the far niente their summum bonum, they have
neither the will nor the power of active exertion in after years.
There is little wealth among the classes above described. Rich families
are rare, landed property is by no means valuable; salaries small;[33] and
in so cheap a country as Goa anything beyond 200l. or 300l. a-year
would be useless. Entertainments are not common; a ball every six
months at Government House, a few dinner parties, and an occasional
soirée or nautch, make up the list of gaieties. In the different little
villages where the government employés reside, once a week there is
quadrilling and waltzing, à l’antique, some flirting, and a great deal of
smoking in the verandah with the ladies, who are, generally speaking,
European. Gambling is uncommon; high play unknown. The theatre is
closed as if never to open again. No serenades float upon the evening
gale, the guitarra hangs dusty and worm-eaten against the wall, and the
cicisbeo is known only by name. Intrigue does not show itself so
flauntingly as in Italy, and other parts of Southern Europe. Scandal,
however, is as plentiful as it always is in a limited circle of idle society.
The stranger who visits Goa, persuaded that he is to meet with the
freedom of manners and love of pleasure which distinguish the people of
the Continent, will find himself grievously mistaken. The priesthood is
numerous, and still influential, if not powerful. The fair sex has not much
liberty here, and their natural protectors are jealous as jailers.
The ancient Portuguese costume de dame, a plain linen cap, long white
waistcoat, with ponderous rosary slung over it, thick striped and coloured
petticoat, and, out of doors, a huge white, yellow, blue, or black calico
sheet, muffling the whole figure—is now confined to the poor—the
ladies dress according to the Parisian fashions. As, however, steamers
and the overland route have hitherto done little for Goa, there is
considerable grotesqueness to be observed in the garments of the higher
as well as the lower orders. The usual mode of life among the higher
orders is as follows:—They rise early, take a cold bath, and make a light
breakfast at some time between seven and nine. This is followed by a
dinner, usually at two; it is a heavy meal of bread, meat, soup, fish,
sweetmeats, and fruits, all served up at the same time, in admirable
confusion. There are two descriptions of wine, in general use; the tinto
and branco,[34] both imported from Portugal. About five in the evening
some take tea and biscuits, after awaking from the siesta and bathing; a
stroll at sunset is then indulged in, and the day concludes with a supper
of fish, rice, and curry. Considering the little exercise in vogue, the
quantity of food consumed is wonderful. The Goanese smoke all day,
ladies as well as gentlemen; but cheroots, cigars, and the hookah are too
expensive to be common. A pinch of Virginia or Maryland,
uncomfortably wrapped up in a dried plantain leaf, and called a cannudo,
is here the poor succedaneum for the charming little cigarita of Spain.
The talented author of a “Peep at Polynesian Life” assures us, that,
“strange as it may seem, there is nothing in which a young and beautiful
female appears to more advantage than in the act of smoking.” We are
positive that nothing is more shocking than to see a Goanese lady
handling her biree,[35] except to hear the peculiarly elaborate way in
which she ejects saliva when enjoying her weed.
The reader who knows anything of India will at once perceive the
difference between English and Portuguese life in the East. The former is
stormy from perpetual motion, the latter stagnant with long-continued
repose. Our eternal “knocking about” tells upon us sooner or later. A
Portuguese lieutenant is often greyheaded before he gets his company;
whereas some of our captains have scarcely a hair upon their chins. But
the former eats much and drinks little, smokes a pinch of tobacco instead
of Manillas, marries early, has a good roof over his head, and, above all
things, knows not what marching and counter-marching mean. He never
rides, seldom shoots, cannot hunt, and ignores mess tiffins and guest
nights. No wonder that he neither receives nor gives promotion.
An entertainment at the house of a Goanese noble presents a curious
contrast to the semi-barbarous magnificence of our Anglo-Indian
“doings.” In the one as much money as possible is lavished in the worst
way imaginable; the other makes all the display which taste, economy,
and regard for effect combined produce. The balls given at the palace
are, probably, the prettiest sights of the kind in Western India. There is a
variety of costumes, which if not individually admirable, make up an
effective tout ensemble; even the dark faces, in uniforms and ball
dresses, tend to variegate and diversify the scene. The bands are better
than the generality of our military musicians, European as well as
Native, and the dancing, such as it is, much more spirited. For the
profusion of refreshments,—the ices, champagne, and second suppers,
which render a Bombay ball so pernicious a thing in more ways than
one, here we look in vain.
The dinner parties resemble the other entertainments in economy and
taste; the table is decorated, as in Italy, with handsome China vases,
containing bouquets, fruits, and sweetmeats, which remain there all the
time. Amongst the higher classes the cookery is all in the modified
French style common to the South of Europe. The wines are the white
and red vins ordinaires of Portugal; sometimes a bottle of port, or a little
bitter beer from Bombay, are placed upon the table. The great annoyance
of every grand dinner is the long succession of speeches which
concludes it. A most wearisome recreation it is, certainly, when people
have nothing to do but to propose each other’s healths in long orations,
garnished with as many facetious or flattering platitudes as possible.
After each speech all rise up, and with loud “vivas” wave their glasses,
and drain a few drops in honour of the accomplished caballero last
lauded. The language used is Portuguese; on the rare occasions when the
person addressed or alluded to is a stranger, then, probably, Lusitanian
French will make its appearance. We modestly suggest to any reader who
may find himself in such predicament the advisability of imitating our
example.
On one occasion after enduring half an hour’s encomium delivered in
a semi-intelligible dialect of Parisian, we rose to return thanks, and for
that purpose selecting the English language, we launched into that
inexhaustible theme for declamation, the glories of the Portuguese
eastern empire, beginning at De Gama, and ending with his Excellency
the Governor-General of all the Indies, who was sitting hard by. It is
needless to say that our oratory excited much admiration, the more,
perhaps, as no one understood it. The happiest results ensued—during
our stay at Goa we never were urged to address the company again.
 CHAPTER VI.
THE POPULATION OF PANJIM.

The black Christians, like the whites, may be subdivided into two
orders; first, the converted Hindoos; secondly, the mixed breed of
European and Indian blood. Moreover, these latter have another
distinction, being either Brahman Christians, as they ridiculously term
themselves, on account of their descent from the Hindoo pontifical caste,
or common ones. The only perceptible difference between them is, we
believe, a moral one; the former are justly renowned for extraordinary
deceitfulness and treachery. They consider themselves superior to the
latter in point of dignity, and anciently enjoyed some peculiar privileges,
such as the right of belonging to the orders of the Theatins, or regular
clerks, and Saint Philip Nerius.[36] But in manners, appearance, customs,
and education, they exactly resemble the mass of the community.
The Mestici, or mixed breed, composes the great mass of society at
Goa; it includes all classes, from the cook to the government official. In
1835 one of them rose to the highest post of dignity, but his political
career was curt and remarkably unsuccessful. Some half-castes travel in
Europe, a great many migrate to Bombay for service and commerce, but
the major part stays at Goa to stock professions, and support the honour
of the family. It would be, we believe, difficult to find in Asia an uglier
or more degraded looking race than that which we are now describing.
The forehead is low and flat, the eyes small, quick, and restless; there is
a mixture of sensuality and cunning about the region of the mouth, and a
development of the lower part of the face which are truly
unprepossessing, not to say revolting. Their figures are short and small,
with concave chests, the usual calfless Indian leg, and a remarkable want
of muscularity. In personal attractions the fair sex is little superior to the
other. During the whole period of our stay at Goa we scarcely ever saw a
pretty half-caste girl. At the same time we must confess that it is difficult
to pronounce judgment upon this point, as women of good mixed family
do not appear before casual visitors. And this is of course deemed a sign
of superior modesty and chastity, for the black Christians, Asiatically
enough, believe it impossible for a female to converse with a strange
man and yet be virtuous. The dark ladies affect the old Portuguese
costume, described in the preceding chapter; a few of the wealthiest
dress like Europeans. Their education is purposely neglected—a little
reading of their vernacular tongue, with the Ave and other prayers in
general use, dancing, embroidery, and making sweetmeats,[37] are
considered satis superque in the way of accomplishments. Of late years,
a girls’ school has been established by order of government at Panjim,
but a single place of the kind is scarcely likely to affect the mass of the
community. The life led by the fair sex at Goa must be, one would think,
a dull one. Domestic occupations, smoking, a little visiting, and going to
church, especially on the ferie, or festivals, lying in bed, sitting en
deshabille, riding about in a mancheel, and an occasional dance—such
are the blunt weapons with which they attack Time. They marry early,
begin to have a family probably at thirteen, are old women at twenty-
two, and decrepit at thirty-five. Like Indians generally, they appear to be
defective in amativeness, abundant in philoprogenitiveness, and
therefore not much addicted to intrigues. At the same time we must
record the fact, that the present archbishop has been obliged to issue an
order forbidding nocturnal processions, which, as they were always
crowded with lady devotees, gave rise to certain obstinate scandals.
The mongrel men dress as Europeans, but the quantity of clothing
diminishes with the wearer’s rank. Some of the lower orders, especially
in the country, affect a full-dress costume, consisting in toto, of a cloth
jacket and black silk knee breeches. Even the highest almost always wear
coloured clothes, as, by so doing, the washerman is less required. They
are intolerably dirty and disagreeable:—verily cleanliness ought to be
made an article of faith in the East. They are fond of spirituous liquors,
and seldom drink, except honestly for the purpose of intoxication. As
regards living, they follow the example of their white fellow-subjects in
all points, except that they eat more rice and less meat. Their characters
may be briefly described as passionate and cowardly, jealous and
revengeful, with more of the vices than the virtues belonging to the two
races from which they are descended. In early youth, especially before
arriving at years of puberty, they evince a remarkable acuteness of mind,
and facility in acquiring knowledge. They are equally quick at learning
languages, and the lower branches of mathematical study, but they seem
unable to obtain any results from their acquirements. Goa cannot boast of
ever having produced a single eminent literato, or even a second-rate
poet. To sum up in a few words, the mental and bodily development of
this class are remarkable only as being a strange mélange of European