Much has been written, and probably with justice, concerning the apathy, the corruption, the extreme superstition, and the dissolute nature of the lives of the clergy in _Brazil_; but, taking them as they were, it is somewhat difficult to realize the picture of what the Portuguese transatlantic possessions would have become had they possessed no Church establishment. From the King down to the lowest peasant, the Portuguese of that age were deeply imbued with faith in the doctrines of Christianity; and, however much they might, in their practice, diverge from its precepts, they were ever ready to compound for their sins by liberal donations to the Church and to charitable establishments. The Church, on its side, however irregular might be the lives of the clergy in general, was bound to keep up a certain degree of outward discipline and of attention to the good works for which it sought donations; whilst, from time to time, a luminary, such as Nobrega and Vieyra, arose in its ranks, stimulating to good works. We have endeavoured in the preceding pages faithfully to record in so far as our limits permitted, the devotion and extraordinary achievements of such men as Nobrega, Anchieta, and Vieyra: it is but fitting to complete the picture of the remarkable ecclesiastics of the century by taking one from an opposite category. The Father Joam de Almeida, who had sat at the feet of Anchieta, is said originally to have been called John Martin, and to have been a subject of Queen Elizabeth; but, in the seventeenth year of his age, he found himself under the care of the Jesuits in _Brazil_. We are told of an Indian captive, who not only showed no impatience under the torments inflicted upon him by his captors, but who, when offered to be relieved of them, replied that he wished they were greater, in order that his enemies might see how thoroughly he despised them. In somewhat of a similar spirit John Martin, or Almeida, seemed not only to be indifferent to pain, but almost to revel in it. Such a character is not unfamiliar to Portuguese ecclesiastical annals. Those who have visited Cintra will remember the cave of the hermit Honorius, in which he dwelt for fourteen years, and which was of such dimensions as not to admit of his standing upright.[10] The unfortunate person of Almeida was regarded by him, in his mental capacity, as a natural enemy, which was only to be kept in subjection by perpetual scourgings, which were inflicted by a liberal assortment of implements; but notwithstanding which, he survived to the age of eighty-two. From this fact it must not be inferred that there was anything of evasiveness in his self-inflicted castigations. His constitution had grown accustomed to a form of suffering which his abstemious manner of living rendered possible, and which won for him the reverence of the superstitious population amongst whom he dwelt. On his demise, everything in any way connected with him became inordinately precious.