“The reading of this second letter produced in me sentiments at variance with those which I had entertained of the first; for, if the idea of the misfortunes I was about to suffer had impressed my mind with a natural dejection, I now reflected on the meanness of the souls that could prescribe orders so manifestly contradictory. This reflection inspired me with such a contempt for the orders, and for those who had sanctioned and were to carry them into execution, that the recollection of it proved no small consolation to me during my troubles.
“Enclosed, then, in a solitary cell, in the prison called Limoeiro, without any other company than that of sorrowful thoughts, labouring under uncertainty as to my fate, and sustaining every possible inconvenience attendant on such prisons, I remained for eight days; until one night the gaoler came to my dungeon, and told me that he had orders to take me before the corregidor, my judge, who wished to proceed in the necessary interrogatories, preparatory to my trial. I appeared before the judge, in a small room of the gaol; when I requested him to order that I should be released from my solitary confinement. He stated, that the intendant-general of police was in the habit of detaining his prisoners in solitary confinement for days, months, and years—indeed, so long as he thought convenient; and that the magistrates were left to their own discretion, with unlimited powers to investigate crimes, and to bring the culprits to punishment.
“Six months had I passed in solitary confinement, when one night the gaoler came to the cell, accompanied by four or six men. This mysterious and absurd way of proceeding rendered it apparent to me that I was going to the prison of the Inquisition; an event which I had long anticipated. I was taken in chains to a carriage, where I found a silent companion; and being surrounded by constables, officers of the Inquisition, who walked by the side of the carriage, I was conveyed to St. Anton Gate. There, to prevent any person from guessing my destination, I was ordered to alight, and led through an alley, to the gate of the palace of the Inquisition, which communicates with the prison. I was then conveyed to a room, where they entered my name in the books, made an inventory of the few clothes I had, and asked me if I had any knife, razor, or scissors, or any other instrument; also, if I had any gold, silver, or jewels; and, on their saying that they would rely on my word in this respect, I produced some pieces of gold coin, most stupidly relying on their assertion; but as soon as they obtained this, and found that I had nothing else to produce, they began the most scrupulous search over every part of my body.
“The gaoler, who for greater dignity has the name of alcaide, that is, keeper of the castle, addressed to me almost a little sermon, recommending me to behave in this respectable house with great propriety; stating also, that I must not make any noise in my room, nor speak loud, lest the other prisoners might happen to be in the neighbouring cells and hear me, with other similar instructions. He then took me to my cell, a small room, 12 feet by 8, with a door to the passage: in this door were two iron grates, far from each other, and occupying the thickness of the wall, which was three feet, and outside of these grates there was, besides, a wooden door; in the upper part of this was an aperture that let into the cell a borrowed light from the passage, which passage received its light from the windows fronting a narrow yard, but having opposite, at a very short distance, very high walls. In this small room were a kind of wood frame without feet, whereon lay a straw mattress, which was to be my bed; a small water-pot; and another utensil for various purposes, which was emptied only once every eight days, when I went to mass in the prisoners’ private chapel. This was the only opportunity I had of taking fresh air during such a period; and they contrived seven divisions in the chapel in such a manner that the prisoners could never see each other, or know how many were granted the favour of going to mass. The cell was arched above, and the floor was brick, the wall being formed of stone, and very thick. The place was consequently very cold in winter, and so damp, that very frequently the grates were covered with drops of water like dew; and my clothes, during the winter, were in a state of perpetual moisture. Such was my abode for the period of nearly three years!
“The day following my entrance into these prisons, the gaoler came at nine o’clock, with another turnkey, and said that I must accompany him to the hearing of my case by the lord-inquisitor, appointed by the holy tribunal to be my judge, and what they call reporter of the cause, who happened to be the first inquisitor and president of the small board, Manoel Stanislao Fragoso. The affability with which this priest treated me, when I first spoke to him, knew no abatement during the time of my imprisonment, except in one or two instances, when his temper was ruffled.
“I must acknowledge, as a warning to others, that my childish credulity, in entertaining the hope of finding in the Holy Office meekness, clemency, or despatch in my trial, had no other ground, except the popular rumour in every corner of Portugal, that the Holy Office is very much altered, and does not now practise those cruelties which it before committed. The inquisitor was in the audience room, with another priest, who acted as clerk, or, as they call it, notary, and he commenced the interrogatories, first, by inquiring my name, parentage, and place of birth; next, if the familiar, who brought me to the prisons of the Holy Office, had done me any violence; or if I knew the cause that had subjected me to the notice of the Inquisition. He then observed to me, that I was before the most just and merciful tribunal on earth; but to obtain its mercy and pardon for my crimes, it was necessary that I should, of my own free will and accord, confess all crimes of which I had been guilty, without concealing my accomplices, frauds, or any other circumstances, and that this confession must be immediate; because the present time was the most favourable moment a prisoner in the Inquisition could have—for, should I confess afterwards what I might deny in the beginning, the lenity of the tribunal would be very different.
“I replied to the inquisitor, that having been first imprisoned by the police, on the ground of having gone to England without passports, although I was not interrogated about this subject, but only with respect to my having entered into the order of freemasonry, I was led to conjecture that my being a freemason was the cause of my trial by the Inquisition. If, indeed, this was the crime of which I was accused, I was disposed to confess it, not only because it was true that I was a freemason, but with a view that I might obtain the mercy he, the inquisitor, had promised me; but if I was mistaken in my conjecture, and the crime I was accused of was different, I begged that its nature might be disclosed to me, and I would reply to the accusation as should be necessary. The inquisitor replied, that he could do no otherwise than praise my laudable resolution to confess my crimes; but it was his duty again to admonish me (and he said this with a great deal of apparent charity), that I ought to examine my conscience thoroughly, and not leave anything untold of all that I had done in any period of my life; that I had committed crimes whose cognisance belonged to that holy tribunal, and that I was accused of them, and informed against on that account; that I should remember his recommendation, that to confess my crimes was highly important to the clearing of my conscience; to the salvation of my soul, and to the successful issue of my cause; and that he, to do me favour, would send me back to my solitary prison, that I might have time to examine my conscience. I told him, that the greatest possible favour he could confer upon me was that of accelerating my cause; for having been more than six months in prison without being allowed to communicate with any one, my health was so seriously injured, that all I wished was to have a sentence, in order to get free from my painful situation and suspense; and, however rigorous that sentence might be, it would always be preferable, in my estimation, to being in a solitary prison, under circumstances that could only lead to an inevitable ruin, which was the more to be feared, as I was literally dying by inches in slow torments.
“I was then immediately remanded to my prison; and the gaoler came to inform me that the goodness of the lords inquisitors extended so far as to order that I should have, besides the ordinary allowance, some coffee for breakfast, and, in consideration of the state of my health, a daily allowance of wine. The ordinary allowance he spake of was half a pound of boiled meat—the bones enter into the weight of this half pound, and, on some days, this allowance is very scanty—a few spoonfuls of rice, a cup of gravy, and some bread. The only persons who are allowed to have any access to the prisoner, or who can see and speak to him, are the gaoler, and four guards, called the ‘faithful of the prisoner,’ who convey the prisoner backwards and forwards to the audiences, and are at the same time the executioners who administer the tortures. These guards also wait upon the prisoners, and bring them what they want,—such as food, water, &c. But it is necessary to observe here, that these guards are, properly speaking, spies set upon the prisoner, to observe everything in the prisons, and to relate it to the inquisitors, not only what they can gain by listening to the conversation of the prisoners, but also what they can see through small holes they make in the ceiling, just at the corners of the cells.”
Da Costa was kept thus in prison for three years, during which period he was tormented by repeated examinations, without sentence being passed upon him. Finding his health decline, he formed the desperate resolution of attempting his escape from prison; and, happily, he succeeded, and at length reached England. The relation of his sufferings in the Inquisition occasioned his friends to request his giving an account of them to the public; and, therefore, he published in London the “Narrative of his Persecutions,” in 1811.