VOL 14, NO. 400.] SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 1829. [PRICE 2d.
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The Limoeiro, at Lisbon.
[Illustration: The Limoeiro, at Lisbon.]
Locks, bolts, and bars! what have we here?--a view of the _Limoeiro, or
common jail_, at Lisbon, whose horrors, without the fear of Don Miguel
in our hearts, we will endeavour to describe, though lightly--merely in
outline,--since nothing can be more disagreeable than the filling in.
For this purpose we might quote ourselves, i.e. one of our
correspondents,[1] or a host of travellers and residents in the
Portuguese capital; but we give preference to Mr. W. Young, who has
borne much of the hard fare of the prison, and can accordingly speak
more fully of its accommodations and privations. Mr. Young is an
Englishman, who married a Portuguese lady in Leiria, and resided for
several years in that town. He was arrested in May, 1828, on suspicion
of disaffection towards Don Miguel's government: nothing appears to have
been proved against him, and after having suffered much disagreeable
treatment in different jails in Leiria and Lisbon, he was discharged
in the following September, on condition of leaving the country. He
returned to England, and lost no time in publishing a volume entitled
"Portugal in 1828;" with "A Narrative of the Author's Residence there
and of his persecution and confinement as a state prisoner."
[1] See "Portuguese Prisons," MIRROR, vol. xii, p. 99.
The prison, says Mr. Young, stands on the highest ground in St. George's
Castle, and is the first building on the south side toward the Tagus.
Near the entrance it is divided internally as follows below:--_Saletta_
(the small hall;) _Salla Livre_ (free hall,) so called, because visiters
are allowed to go in to see their friends, except when the jailer or
intendant orders otherwise; _Salla Fechado_ (the hall shut,) so called,
because no communication is allowed with the prisoners in that hall;
_Enchovia_ (the common prison,) where thieves, murderers, and vagabonds
of every description are confined. This last receptacle is a horrid
place; and is often made use of as a punishment for prisoners from other
parts of the gaol. Hither they are sent when they commit any offence,
for as many days as the jailer may think proper, and are often put in
irons during that time.
Besides these different prisons on the ground floor, there are eight
dungeons in a line, all nearly alike in shape and size; but some are
superior to others as to light and air: and in proportion to the degree
they wish to annoy the unfortunate victim, so are these dungeons used.
A few dollars never fail to procure a better light and air when properly
applied.
Three of these dungeons are about six feet higher than the other five.
There is a corridor in the front of them, which is always shut up when
any one is confined in them, so that no one can ever approach the door
of a dungeon. And to make this a matter of certainty, whenever the
jailer or officers of the prison carry prisoners their food, they lock
the door of the corridor before they open that of the dungeon.
The first of the lower five of these dungeons is in the passage leading
from, the _Salla Livre_, and next door to the privy of the prison; so
that it is never used as a secret dungeon. The lower four are enclosed
as those above, and are much darker than that in the passage. This
latter is claimed by the book-keeper as his property, and I hired it
of him to sleep in, and to be alone when I wished to be so.
The dungeons are all bomb proof, and over them is a terrace thickly
formed of brick and stone; still I could distinctly hear the sentry
walking over my head when all was quiet at night.
The walls of these cells are about six feet thick, with bars inside and
out; the bars in the windows are three inches square, making twelve
inches in circumference, and being crossed they form squares of about
eight inches; the windows differ very much in size, some not being half
so large as others.
Besides these double bars, there is a shutter immensely strong and
close, so that when shut, light is totally excluded; the iron door has a
strong bolt and lock, and outside of this there is a strong wooden door;
in the front of the windows, and about six feet from them, there is a
high wall; so that in the best of these dungeons, there is only a
reflected light.
These are all the prisons on the ground floor, and when full (which they
too often are) the wretched prisoners are forced to lie at night in two
rows, with their feet to the wall, and their heads to the middle of the
room; this position they adopt on account of the cold and damp of the
stone walls; they touch each other, and the floor is completely covered.
Nay, at times, so full is the gaol, that they are obliged to lie on the
corridors, and even on the steps.
The Saletta will hold forty prisoners, the Salla Livre more than sixty,
the Salla Fechado one hundred, and the Enchovia, near one hundred and
forty. When one prison becomes too full, they remove some of the victims
to another, or send them to the forts, or on board the ships in the
river.
The first floor is divided into two parts, officers' rooms, and the
Sallao, (saloon or large hall.) This hall will hold about 150 persons,
when full. Besides the Sallao and officers' rooms on the first floor,
there is a room set apart for questioning people who are in the
dungeons. This room has an entrance from the street, and another through
a passage from the dungeons, as well as one from the officers' rooms.
The magistrate and his clerk enter from the street, and no one in the
prison sees them. The prisoner is taken up stairs from the dungeon, and
the jailer or book-keeper enters from the officers' apartments. Every
thing is done in the most secret manner. If they cannot cause the
prisoner to commit himself, by confessing to the offence with which he
is charged, they send him back again to the dungeon.
The gaol of St. George's has a second floor tier of offices; but that
belongs to the governor and jailer; there are no prisoners above the
ground and the first floor.
None of the authorities ever inquire whether he has any means of
subsistence; there is neither bed blanket, nor even straw, unless the
prisoner can buy it, and then he must pay the guards to let it pass to
him.
Amongst the many thousands of unfortunate beings who are now confined
in Portugal, great numbers of them are without money or any other means
of subsistence; and were it not for the charity of people in general,
starvation would necessarily ensue.
The only authorities employed about the prison are a jailer, secretary,
and eight guards; of the latter three are always on duty; one of them
being stationed at the first iron gate at the entrance of the prison,
another at the second gate, and a third to attend the interior, each
with a bunch of keys in his hand, which serve for nearly all the doors.
The guards are relieved every night at nine o'clock, when, the man
who is posted at the outer door carries a strong iron rod (_see the
Engraving_) with which he strikes every bar in the windows and gates of
the gaol; and if any one of them does not vibrate, or ring, he carefully
inspects it to ascertain whether it has been cut with a saw, or corroded
by any strong acid. This dismal music lasts an hour. The whole expense
of the prison to government does not exceed 16_s_. per day, and the few
officers and guards, when Mr. Young was there, manage upwards of four
hundred prisoners. He was confined from June 16, to September 7, and his
account of the myriads of bugs, rats, mice, and other vermin is truly
disgusting. The reader will however readily credit this report when he
has been told of the revolting state of the city itself. Mrs. Baillie,
in her recent _Letters on Lisbon_, says, "for three miles round Lisbon
in every direction, you cannot for a moment get clear of the disgusting
effluvia that issue from every house." Doctor Southey says "every kind
of vermin that exists to punish the nastiness and indolence of man,
multiplies in the heat and dirt of Lisbon. In addition to mosquitoes,
the scolopendra is not uncommonly found here, and snakes sometimes
intrude into the bedchamber. A small species of red ant likewise swarms
over every thing sweet, and the Portuguese remedy is to send for the
priest to exorcise them." The city is still subject to shocks of
earthquake; the state of the police is horrible; street-robbery is
common, and every thief is an assassin. The pocket-knife, which the
French troops are said to have dreaded more than all the bayonets of
either the Spanish or the Portuguese, is here the ready weapon of the
assassin; and the Tagus receives many a corpse on which no inquest ever
sits. The morals, in fact, of all classes in Lisbon appear to be in a
dreadful state.
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