Pictures of life in Mexico/Volume 1/Chapter 14
CHAPTER XIV.
THE ACCORDADA, OR CHIEF PRISON.
The prison discipline of Mexico affords a lively comment on the very various and opposite experiments which have been tried in such institutions, in the different civilized countries of the world.
Within the spacious court-yard of the Mexican prison—the Accordada—may he seen such a horde of wretched and degraded male criminals as may challenge the lowest grades of society in any other nation to produce the like:—some crowding indiscriminately together in corners, or cowering in groups to cheat and gamble; others yelling and dancing, quarreling and fighting or dabbling in an unclean fountain in the centre; and a few repairing tattered serapés with broken needles, making baskets of decayed rushes, or hunting the abundant vermin. Here, vociferating indecent songs, or doling out lugubrious Ave Marias,—there, purloining each other's food and clothes; craving the charity of casual visitors, or claiming the inestimable benedictions of stray priests.
Authorized by an order from Don Meute Kiorno de Jiauhetes, or some other administrador or officer, you march up to the gate through the numerous guard of soldados on duty; exhibit your permit; and follow an attendant to the second entrance. A gloomy flight of steps leads to this portal on the second storey—the massive strength of which is adapted to its grim purpose. On opening the door, a confused clamour becomes painfully audible—the clanking of fetters and chains, the groans of the prisoners, the weeping of visitors, and the execrations vented upon keepers—mingled with the tramp of jailors and soldiers, the chatter of clerks, and the boisterous laughter of the reckless. The first room you enter is lofty and spacious, and is dedicated to the transaction of such ill—arranged business of the establishment as its officials can find leisure to attend to. Passing this concourse of subalterns,—some writing, but all noisy,—the plan and uses of the building begin fully to develope themselves.
Behind you are the massive iron gates through which you have lately passed, before you is a long extended passage, through one of the strongly-barred side windows of which you perceive that the lofty corridor you have entered, is carried round a square courtyard beneath; in the centre of that is a pool of water, and around it are grouped the majority of the prisoners confined in the Accordada. The building is strong and extensive—as it need be, to contain such an astounding number of prisoners. It is wholly deficient, however, in the order and regularity which an establishment of the kind imperatively requires; the prisoners having little reason to complain of strict discipline, or very scant rations—especially the groups of léperos, who usually contrive to lead as riotous a life within the prison walls, as ever it was their lot to do beyond them.
The different rooms, or cells, of the second storey are appropriated to criminals of a superior condition, and for the reception of malefactors whose crimes are of a deeper dye than ordinary. It is no unusual thing, nevertheless, to behold individuals of the latter class—some even under sentence of death—permitted to mix with the indiscriminate crowd in the court-yard, and wandering about from one range of rooms to another, at will. It may appear strange, at first sight, that the number of escapes is not greater; but there are many doors and gates to pass between the corridor, or court-yard, and the great thoroughfare without; and the warders, inactive as they are in the discharge of their duties, are yet sufficiently numerous to frustrate the most desperate of such designs.
As there is no pauper asylum, nor any provision for the needy and destitute, throughout the country, it is not remarkable—considering the brutal and degraded state of the poorer classes—that theft and murder are rife, and that the cells of the Accordada are thronged with felons. The condition of numbers of the population is utterly hopeless. Without an opportunity of employment, it is not surprising that they are excessively indolent. Wanting in self-respect and all motive to cleanliness, what wonder that they are offensively dirty in their appearance and habits. With no possibility for earning an honest meal, or of creditably supporting existence for a single day, it is not strange that they are dishonest. Having little comfort beside the momentary forgetfulness procured by intoxication, they must needs become quarrelsome. And the Accordada being regarded as a refuge and a resource—a place offering the food and shelter they cannot procure elsewhere—they are not very solicitous to keep out of it. Thus the more intelligent and industrious portions of the community are continually taxed beyond their means, to support a gigantic receptacle of vice, in which criminals of every stamp and degree of villany are herded together, to their mutual deterioration—an exhibition of recklessness, crime, and misery unparalleled.
At one end of the court-yard, in the midst of the utmost riot and blasphemy, is the chapel—against the wall of which the prisoners stoop and gamble. Here the inmates assemble on occasion; and, in the lapses of their profanity, repeat their unintelligible prayers, and chant their mocking praises. Here, also, criminals condemned to be executed are confined; for the three last days of their lives, to solitary meditation and penance; while their fellow-prisoners assemble opposite the door, at stated intervals, and strike up chants and hymns, by way of ushering them with due solemnity to the confines of another world, and furnishing a salutary warning to all parties concerned in the affair.
About a hundred and fifty of these male prisoners are every day escorted into the public streets, to act as scavengers. It is a revolting sight to behold these men led forth under a strong guard, and to note their dogged and malicious aspect, the evil looks they cast upon their escort, and the writhing unwillingness they evince to exertion of any kind: still they are made to labour on, chained in couples like so many galley-slaves. This exercise might be salutary to themselves, as well as to the public; were it not for the unfrequency of its occurrence to each prisoner (they are selected in turn), and for the excesses they commit on their return to the prison court-yard.
The female offenders are kept entirely separate from the males; but, with little modification, the scenes observable on one side of the prison, form a tolerably faithful picture of those within the enclosures of the other.
In venturing down among the noisy groups in the court-yard, to make a few observations, the presence of an officer is a needful security against insult; while it will not disturb the occupations of the ragged and sinister-looking multitudes.
The first criminal who attracts our curiosity among the crowd, is one with a clerically shaven head, who bears some distant resemblance to a priest; and the idea presents itself that an individual of his exalted profession must be confined here by mistake. No such thing: the fellow is an impostor. He was formerly servant in the family of a "Padre" at Puebla, and becoming initiated into a few mysteries of the craft, had the audacity afterwards to establish himself among the credulous and superstitious inhabitants of a remote district, as a genuine holy priest. The fraud was for a time successful: the pretended father was regarded with veneration by the people, and hailed as a welcome missionary. He assisted at several deathbeds; came in for numerous legacies; ministered at the confessional; and was the recipient of the most confidential secrets. He also accepted considerable donations for the benefit of the Church; but appropriating some of these acquisitions to his own use, the imposition was discovered. The mock priest was apprehended, tried, and sentence of death passed upon him; but it was commuted to perpetual imprisonment. There is not a more corrupt and shameless villain than this quondam "padre," within the precincts of the Accordada.
At one corner of the square, is a knave with a callous yet merry countenance, surrounded by an amused throng, to whom he is relating a few of the most racy of his past adventures. As the rascal chuckles over the narration of some peculiarly clever trick, the attention of his auditors is absolutely riveted upon him; and as the words, darkness, confessional, priests, ladies, and robbery, escape his lips, roars of laughter resound from every side. The groups around him are evidently receiving some striking lessons in vice at his hands— especially those youths who have but lately entered the prison—and his hints and directions will doubtless be largely followed, on the first occasion of his hearers being at liberty.
Two men, bathing in the fountain in the centre of the yard, have been performing feats of swimming and agility in the water; and one competitor has so entirely outstripped the other, that the vanquished party has lost his temper—or, rather, his usual savage disposition has gained a horrible ascendancy. Seizing his late companion in his arms, he forces him down, notwithstanding the vigorous kicking and plunging of his antagonist, whose head he holds under water to drown him;—assuredly, were it not for the somewhat tardy intervention of the officers, his atrocious purpose would have been speedily effected, amid the laughs and jeers of the reckless mob around them.
The emaciated object yonder, who has been chosen umpire of a dispute between two or three players at monté, was once a gentleman of wealth and station: boxes at the opera, horses and equipages, ladies' smiles, servile attendants, luxurious feasts, and superb mansions, have all been at his service. Unfortunately, however, he had an ardent passion for gaming, and his splendid fortune and position speedily vanished: wealth, luxuries, friends, summarily forsook him; even his wife deserted him in his misfortunes; while his children were driven to seek a subsistence among strangers. His constitution began to sink; he was stricken with disease; and his next stage was to the hospital—whose precincts he quitted only to find that nights spent upon pavements and in court-yards were chilling cold, like the charity and sympathy of his former friends. The extremities of want and wretchedness became familiar to him—yet he was a gambler still. In all his vicissitudes, this vice clung to him; and while every other feeling had died within his breast, his love of gaming appeared only to gain strength. At this point of his career, temptation presented itself; degradation and want led him on from bad to worse; he became the victim of more artful accomplices; and the Accordada was the result. He once endeavoured to commit suicide by drowning himself in the central pool; and he usually wanders through the court-yard, mindless and hopeless—save when he can join a group of wretched players for questionable granos, or decide some disputed point which they refer to him. A few of his fellow-prisoners have a feeling of respect towards him for what he has been; but though admitted to be an excellent authority on all questions connected with play, he is, among the majority, only a subject of ridicule on account of his vacant look, absent manner, and wofully emaciated appearance.
A singular being, with coarse hair which reaches nearly to his middle, and whose large, idiotic countenance almost stamps him as the impersonation of vicious ignorance, is kneeling in as devout a position as he can command, before a little leaden image—obtained most probably by theft. His position is the only thing devout about him: out of his mouth, indeed, proceed both blessing and cursing, supplication and blasphemy; for not a moment ago, he was heaping the most horrible imprecations on the head of a comrade, who had nefariously made a "grab" at his portable saint; and he now urges his petition to Heaven with redoubled gusto, in extenuation of the dimly recollected, but very weighty catalogue of his past transgressions. Soon this impious creature will rise from his knees, under the impression that, through the medium of his leaden image, all outstanding offences have been effectually cleared away, and that a fresh running account may be opened without delay between himself and Heaven.
A little beyond him, to the left, is a reprobate engaged in a very different employment: seated on the stones of the yard, with his knees elevated to the height of his chin, he waves his hands continually to and fro round his head to give effect to his words. He is vociferating a ribald song, in the loudest key of a disagreeable voice, to an attentive and appreciating group. At the moment when his companions join in a boisterous chorus, he springs to his feet, and dances with a grotesque movement; then all rise, and yell and caper together; and the fandango is only ended by the stronger of the party hurling the others forcibly to the earth, with a loud outburst of exultation.
There are only three individuals in this numerous assemblage who appear to be employed in any kind of useful labour—two of them are weaving some discoloured silk from small hand-looms, and the other is manufacturing variously-shaped baskets from a heap of rushes beside him. This last prisoner is almost the only redeeming point in the picture. He was but a short time ago the chief proprietor of an extensive mine in the north; upon which not only his own wealth, but that of a considerable company had been lavished. Many thousand Mexican dollars had been sunk in forming shafts and working them: but the tract of land, after all, had proved unproductive, and the vast outlay had never realized, beyond a few veins of silver upon the surface, the value of a single rial. Indignant at their losses, and unconscious of the rapidity with which capital either disappears or doubles itself in such speculations, his absent partners turned upon him, as the active agent, and accused him of theft and embezzlement of the funds entrusted; so that, ere he could make arrangements to convince them of their mistake, he found himself confined in the Accordada. And now, possessing an honourable mind, and detesting the scenes of degradation and pollution surrounding him, he is content to weave rushes into baskets, to wile away the time till tardy justice can include him among the subjects of her administration.
But now the attendant has rushed in great haste from our side—his attention having been called to the trio of vindictive gamesters, who are screaming and tearing at each other at the opposite extremity of the yard. What dreadful imprecations and malicious gestures they employ! How savagely they bite and strike each other! It is well for the prisoner on the ground that there are keepers present, or his opportunities for future brawling would have been brought suddenly to a close.
Before the officer can return, a general scramble is made in the direction where we are standing; and we wonder what can be the intentions of such an ill-looking-herd of vagrants as rush towards us. They fall about our feet, and touch our clothes to gain attention. "By the mystery of the Holy Trinity!" they begin to exclaim. Ah! they wish to excite our charity; but the attendant keeper arrives at this moment, and they fall back cowed, swearing, and disappointed. We have by this time witnessed enough to satisfy us for the present, respecting the various and repulsive groups that throng the chief prison of the city of Mexico. [1] may serve to shew how inefficient is the working of the present system; and how imperatively the condition of the lower classes throughout the country demands attention and amelioration.
| Men. | Women. | Total. | |
| Robbery | 1,800 | 590 | 2,390 |
| Quarrelling and wounding | 2,937 | 1,805 | 4,742 |
| Bigamy, &c. | 421 | 203 | 624 |
| Homicide | 180 | 42 | 222 |
| Incontinence, &c. | 75 | 37 | 112 |
| Forgery. | 11 | 3 | 14 |
| Throwing vitriol. | 41 | 17 | 58 |
| Lesser crimes. | 734 | 341 | 1,075 |
| Prisoners for one year in a population little over 130,000; | 9,237 |
- ↑ The following statement—an average estimate of the number of prisoners in this establishment for one year—