be chained to a Turk, and brought by a guard into his presence, which was done. He first spoke amiably enough to Sabatier, telling him that, as he made so great a profession of telling the truth, he hoped he would do so now. Sabatier replied that he would boldly speak the truth about everything which concerned himself, at the risk of enduring the most cruel tortures, and even at the "Very well," said the master, "if you confess the truth, you will not be harmed."

peril of his own life.

He asked him first if this packet and the writing in which it was wrapped up came from him. "Yes, sir," replied Sabatier. Then to whom he was sending the packet. Sabatier replied that he was sending it to one of his brethren in the faith to distribute the money to several others who were in this list.

"For what purpose is this money?" the master inquired.

Sabatier replied that it was sent out of charity to help them in their miserable slavery.

"From whence does this money come to you?" asked the master.

"From Geneva, sir," replied Sabatier.

"Do you often receive it in this way?”

"From time to time, when our friends think that we are in want of it."

"In what manner do you receive it?"

"Through a banker of Geneva, who remits to a banker at Marseilles."

"Who is the banker who pays it to you?" asked the

master.

"So far, sir," said Sabatier firmly, "I have been able to tell you the real truth. I have promised to tell you all that concerns myself, and if you find what I have said

and done criminal, punish me for it as you think proper; but to denounce a man who has only acted out of kindness and to do us a favor, and whose ruin I know my deposition would cause, is what I will never do."

"What! wretch, you dare to refuse to tell me what you confess to know yourself? You will either expire under the lash, or tell me," said the master.

"Make me die," said Sabatier, "by the most horrible tortures; I shall never tell it.”

The master, transported with rage, ordered the guard, who had brought Sabatier, to beat him with a stick in his presence. The guard, who had known Sabatier for several years, deeply touched by his unhappy fate, replied, 66 Sir, he is a brave man; I cannot strike him." "Rascal!" said the master, "give me your stick ;" which the guard having done, this cruel man made Sabatier approach his own chair, and then broke the stick upon his body, Sabatier not making the least complaint in the world, nor changing his position to avoid the blows of this furious master. Then, not being able to beat him any longer, as his strength failed him, he ordered Sabatier to be led back to the galley, and commanded the major to give him the bastinado till he died or confessed the name of the banker who had paid him the money, which took place immediately without any form of trial. Sabatier endured with constancy this more than barbarous treatment, and as long as the power of speech remained to him during this punishment he continued to call upon God, praying him to grant him grace to resist even unto the death, which he was momentarily expecting, and to receive his soul in His divine mercy. Speech and motion having failed him, they still continued to strike to the utmost his poor mangled body. The surgeon of the

galleys, watching if he still breathed, said to the major that, if they continued to strike him now ever so little, he would certainly die, and his secret with him, but if they tried to make him revive, they might begin again to force him to confess what they wished to know. To this the major assented. They rubbed his mangled back with strong vinegar and salt. The pain which this application caused made him revive, but so weak was he that they could not recommence his punishment without killing him at the first blow. They thought it best, therefore, to take him to the hospital, that he might regain sufficient strength to undergo a second punishment. But he was so long hovering between life and death, that either the lapse of time made them forget him, or that even his executioners dreaded exercising such a punish ment for a cause which did them no honor, and he was not again exposed to this torture. He recovered, but was always so sickly and weak in the head, that, during the few years he lived afterwards, he could not carry on the simplest conversation, and his voice was so low that he could scarcely be heard. Such is an instance of the unparalleled cruelty of these missionaries of Marseilles !*

XXX

Through the mercy of divine Providence I had been, without any danger, the distributor of the money which M. Piecourt remitted to me. To aid me in this anxious duty I had the help of my honest and faithful Turk, Aly. I generally knew pretty exactly the time when this remittance would be sent, and despatched Aly alone (for the Turks are allowed to go anywhere without guards) to M. Piecourt, who gave him the money to remit to me,

*See Note at end of volume.

with a receipt which I had to sign, and which Aly took back with my letters for Holland. But it happened that M. Piecourt had the misfortune to be embarrassed in hi affairs, so that our remittance was intrusted to another Dunkirk banker, a M. Penetrau. This gentleman two oi three times paid me the money with similar punctuality and precaution, and, as my Turk was so well acquainted with his commission, with equal safety and facility. Moreover, the chaplain who belonged to our galley was very reasonable with regard to us. Speaking of the chaplain reminds me that I must relate some particulars with regard to those who exercise this office in the galleys.

These chaplains are secular priests of the society commonly called "of the Mission," or "of St. Lazarus." It was founded by Vincent de Paul, a simple priest, who by his pious reputation became the confessor of the Queen, the mother of Louis XIV. He was then charged to hold missions in the country for the instruction of the peasants and common people. This gave rise to the establishment of this society, which, small at first, increased in time, had branches in the most important towns in France, and acquired divers privileges and prerogatives, among them the nomination of the village curés, and of the military, naval, and galley chaplains. They had insinuated themselves so well at court, that the ministry regarded them as oracles, and the Jesuits only with envy and jealousy. Notwithstanding their cunning, the Jesuits had never forseen the future greatness of the Lazarists, of which they had themselves been the principal instruments. In supporting this society they had thought only to increase the number of their own partisans. But abandoning the instructions of their founder, the Lazarists

concealed their ambitious views under a cloak of humility. They knew how well a humble exterior and an air of mortification had served the Jesuits; they, therefore, imitated them in their dress and behavior, and even surpassed them in the coarseness of their robes and in their negligent and almost dirty appearance. This so imposed

upon the public and upon the court, that they obtained the care of the chapels and royal palaces, the administra tion of a number of seminaries, and the possession of immense wealth, which they now enjoy. So powerful and formidable were they in my time at Marseilles, that if any of the king's officers displeased them they soon obtained a warrant to have them disgraced. In this way they were so feared, and apparently so respected, that all submitted to their tyranny.

These fathers, then, having the spiritual direction of the galleys, placed chaplains in them, men like themselves-cruel persecutors of any of the reformed religion they might meet with there. But our chaplain having just died when the six galleys passed from the Mediterranean to the Channel, M. de Langeron, on account of the distance, which acquitted him from the necessity of waiting for the nomination of the missionaries, and who, moreover, would not be without a chaplain on board his galley, took at Rochefort a monk of the Dominican order. This chaplain at first treated us as badly as he could, but in time he relented and conformed to our captain's way of acting, which had much changed to our favor. To the ill-treatment which at first we had endured, succeeded obliging acts towards us all, and especially towards me, since I had become M. de Langeron's secretary, an employment which often gave me the opportunity of conversing with this chaplain. During the last