Chapter 10: The Happy Convict

ARRIVING at Goyaz, the most distant point from the coast to which the Gospel had been then carried in South America, my companion, a Brazilian colporteur, and I set to work to establish a center of permanent evangelical effort among Roman Catholics, which would also constitute a base from which further advance might be made into the Indian territory beyond. We rented a small hall in the center of the town, had some seats and a platform made, and started without any formalities.
We held nightly meetings, which were crowded in spite of the organized opposition of the Dominican priests — those loyal sons of the great Inquisitor.
It was very uphill work, as the wealthy and official classes soon drew off when we settled down to serious business and preached repentance. Our attendance fell off to twenty or thirty, but then we began to see results. The firstfruits were all soldiers, six of them.
Some of these young men at once commenced work, scattering tracts among their comrades and helping forward the cause in other ways. They were scoffed at, ill-treated, and stoned in the public streets; but all proved faithful. One day two of them brought me a remarkable piece of news.
While on sentry duty at the prison they were giving away tracts to the convicts, and found one man amongst them who had in his possession a Bible, which he received several years before, and to their surprise he appeared to be converted. I then recollected how, on a previous visit to Goyaz, I had distributed tracts in the prison, a custom with me at every town I enter. One of the prisoners there bought a Bible, and no doubt this was the same man; but I hardly credited their report of his conversion.
Next morning I walked over to the prison to investigate. Obtaining permission from the jailer, I ascended the steps and passed along one or two dirty, dark corridors until I faced a heavily-barred window let into the wall. Peering through I found there was a second barred window about two feet beyond for additional security. There was no door, the only access to the cells being by means of trap doors in the floors of the rooms above.
For some time I could perceive nothing in the gloom beyond that second window, though acutely conscious of a very evil stench, and the rustle of a rat darting across the intervening space. After a few minutes I could discern a large cell, filthy and foul to a degree, probably never washed out since the ramshackle old prison was built in the old colonial days, over a century back.
I could make out a dozen men or more lying about on the floor, there being no benches, seats, or beds; while the sanitary arrangements were practically nil. Some of these poor creatures had been incarcerated in this hole from ten to twenty years, and some had been there for years without a trial — a common event to be feared.
The Brazilian prisons of the interior are a disgrace humanity; and I speak feelingly, for I tested the rigors of their accommodation myself thirty years ago on the occasion of a revolution.
At the far end of the cell several convicts were up and down, like wild beasts; and some of the prisoners were gibbering lunatics — a not uncommon sight.
I called out the name of the man I wanted, and had to call several times ere I attracted any attention; and then I saw one of the dark figures advancing towards me, stepping over the recumbent bodies of his fellow-prisoners.
As he drew near the inner barred window, the dim light that shone behind me lit up his face — the beautiful, bright, smiling face of Pedro Feliz; and, as he stretched his hand across the intervening space, it was for a grip of real fellowship and union in Christ. How wonderful was that first interview! How marvelously God had taught him! How much he knew of God’s Word, for he had read the Bible through many times!
Then he told me his history. While yet a youth he had been terrorized by a local ruffian into assisting him one night to commit a robbery. This was carried through; but he was horrified to have to witness the murder of a poor old woman in the accomplishment of the crime. Both were arrested and sent to prison to await their trial. Then the murderer himself died; and when some years later the trial came on Pedro, as an accomplice, received the full sentence of thirty years’ imprisonment After fifteen long years (and oh, the unspeakable agony of them!) into the wretchedness of that awful life came a Bible. He taught himself to read it; and then God’s Holy Spirit unfolded to his mind and heart the wonderful truth as it is in Jesus, with its healing and transforming power. What he had to endure on account of his faith can only be faintly imagined under such circumstances. Nearly all his companions were callous, cruel murderers — criminals of the lowest type; but there he stood, the greatest miracle of God’s grace I had ever seen.
That was the first of many visits, with little Bible talks and prayer through those iron bars. This went on for another month or so, when I received unexpected news from the coast that my only remaining companion was giving up the work, which necessitated my leaving Goyaz and returning to our headquarters in Sao Paulo. We had just held our first baptismal service, five of the soldiers mentioned thus obeying the Lord’s command. When I visited the, prison to bid farewell to Pedro I found him sad and troubled, though he still made an effort to smile. But his regret was not on account of my leaving, for he exclaimed in a sorrowful voice, “So you are going away, Senhor Frederico, and I have never been baptized, and who knows if I shall ever see you again. I have observed that in the old days the believers were always baptized, and I did so want to be baptized.”
I found the soldiers had told him of our little ceremony, when they had been greatly blessed.
“Well, Pedro,” I replied, “it is not baptism that saves, but repentance and faith in the Lord Jesus.” Pedro rejoined that he knew that, but he wanted to be baptized. I said that it was quite right for him to desire it, but under the circumstances within those prison bars it was impossible. Nevertheless, seeing that he was sincerely desirous of obeying this command, I was sure that the Lord would accept the will for the deed, so that he could consider the question as though he really was baptized and be perfectly at ease about the matter.
No! Pedro was not at ease, and could not see matters in this light, so our goodbye was rather a sad one.
A few hours later, while making my last preparations for the long journey back to the coast, a soldier looked is at the window and handed me a note.
It was from Pedro, explaining that very shortly after I had left the head jailer had visited his cell and selected two of the inmates to carry the prison sweepings down to the river next morning, and that one of the two chosen was himself.
Occasionally the prison is swept, or at least part of it, and the resultant filth has to be carried by convicts to a point on the Rio Vermelho (Red River), a mile away, to be tipped into the waters.
“Meet me tomorrow morning on the river bank by six o’clock,” wrote Pedro, indicating the spot. There was no need to explain the purpose of the appointment. God had wonderfully opened up a way for him to fulfill his heart’s desire.
Early next morning, before the hour fixed, I had found a suitable place for the baptism, and punctually at six I saw a little company marching over the fields in the direction of the Red River. There were two prisoners, with five soldiers, four of whom were converted and baptized men, who to my surprise had been chosen for that duty. They formed up in line, and a little service was held. I baptized Pedro, and with a radiant face he bade me farewell; returning with joy unspeakable in his heart to the prospect of incarceration for fifteen years more in that vile prison!
It is no easy matter to live as a Christian in the midst of the terrible sin and blasphemy of a Brazilian prison, but from the moment he came out boldly on the Lord’s side Pedro strove by lip and life to attract his fellow-prisoners to the Lord Jesus Christ. Some received his words with appreciation, others mocked and reviled, and made his life still harder for him; but he kept on, and soon had the supreme satisfaction of seeing two other prisoners pass into the light through his testimony.
These were the first fruits of an abundant harvest. Then a new and wonderful idea came to Pedro: could he not touch the lives of his fellow-countrymen outside the prison walls? He was a shoemaker, and was allowed by the authorities to work at his trade, the money thus earned being used to buy little luxuries of food and clothing otherwise denied him. Could he not do without these things, and, living on the bare prison fare, be able to use the money saved that way in sending the Gospel to those outside? They were in the spiritual darkness of Romish night, while through his prison bars shone such abundant light.
Deep joy filled Pedro’s heart as he saw the money accumulating. Then one day, getting leave from the prison authorities, he sent a sum of money, equivalent to about seven shillings, to the far-away headquarters of the mission to which I belonged; and repeatedly he sent his savings to hasten the coming of the Kingdom of the Lord Jesus Christ in his own land.
Several years elapsed before I saw Pedro again, and then I found his circumstances had improved. Like Joseph of old, he had found favor with his jailer, and had been released from his cell and vile surroundings.
His new quarters were in the old disused Roman Catholic, which still retained its images and other superstitious paraphernalia. Here he had his own bed, and he cobbled away at his shoes in peace and relative comfort.
But his spirit was grieved by the aforesaid idols, etc., so I managed to obtain some large Scripture wall texts, which Pedro nailed up all round the chapel. Some of the converted prisoners in the cells beneath did the same with their walls.
Soon after this one of the Dominican monks who ruled the people of that region heard of my frequent visits, and entered the prison, haranguing some of the convicts and bidding them beware of the English heretic. When he visited the chapel he was horrified at the transformation. He rebuked Pedro severely, and tried to confound him in argument, but as the poor convict would quote the Bible the priest could do nothing with him, and after several subsequent attempts to bring him back to the fold of the Church he abandoned the effort in despair. On the following Sunday Pedro was turned out of his quarters, and a Mass was held in the Chapel, which all the convicts were compelled to attend as true sons of the Church.
Taking advantage of this action, I applied to the authorities for permission to preach. I claimed that as the Brazilian Constitution did not officially recognize one religion more than another, and seeing that the priest had held a Mass, I too should have the liberty to hold a Gospel meeting in the prison, it being a Government establishment.
This application made quite a stir in ecclesiastical quarters, and for some time the claim was resisted; but finally I appealed to the President, and my application was granted. Next Sunday morning at eight o’clock the jailer went round the prison cells, clanking his keys at the barred windows, and called out, “Anybody wanting to attend a Protestant Mass?” For all who desired to be present a ladder was lowered through the trap-door overhead, some twenty or thirty convicts gathering in the chapel for the first Gospel service, and Pedro’s bright face beamed brighter than ever: That weekly meeting on Sunday has been Continued to this day. Within a short period eight other convicts had been converted, while many hundreds of others had been favorably influenced by the testimony of their fellow-prisoners, especially that of Pedro.
His bright, happy smile attracted many of his sad, comfortless companions. During all the years I knew him in that prison, with all his privations and sufferings, I never heard Pedro complain. He always made the best of everything and praised the Lord.
When a few years later I began to prepare for my first important expedition of investigation among the wild Carajá Indians of the Araguaya River, the only special monetary help I received was the sum of twelve dollars from my convict brother. When we presented our first little child to the Lord, Pedro was present with prison guards, and he took her in his arms, offering the dedicatory prayer.
Two years later, in answer to much prayer in many lands, the President of the State, by an unusual act of clemency, forgave Pedro the remainder of his sentence. He had in the meantime been used in the prison to the conversion of many, besides exercising immense influence for good over all with whom he came in contact. He is still an honored member of the Church in Goyaz.
We speak of our limitations — that we have no call to the Foreign Mission Field, no special capacity, and that there is so little we can do; but surely it is beyond question that, compared with those of the Brazilian prisoner confined within four walls and under such conditions, our opportunities, with all the privileges we enjoy of liberty and Christian fellowship are boundless.