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71 Father Marcel le Blanc
Translated from microfilms of Vol. II of his ‘Histoire de la Révolution du Roiaume de Siam ...’, Lyons 1692, by courtesy of the Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris.
In 1688, during an illness of the King of Siam, a pretender seized the throne, and as a result Constantine Phaulkon, the Chief Minister, was executed for ‘treason’. This Cephalonian Greek adventurer, the ‘Constance’ of item 55, had risen in Siam from a cabin-boy in an English ship to riches and to this post, and was strongly pro-French. After his conversion to Roman Catholicism he was knighted by the Pope and made a Count by Louis XIV. His fall caused the disappearance of French and Jesuit influence in Siam, and the Jesuit astronomers left there, Father le Blanc among them, he going first to Pondicheri and sailing from there in Le Coche, with the flute* La Normande, for France.
La Normande had met with better weather than we along the coasts, and had arrived in sight of the Cape on April the twenty-fifth or twenty-sixth. The Dutch Governor there had been advised that three laden ships were to sail for the French Company, two from Pontichery and another from Surat, so that as soon as the fortress had been warned that a ship was approaching, by a cannon-shot from the look-out always stationed on the hill called ‘The Lion's Head’, he himself went up onto the Lion's Back to identify the flag; and to make even surer of the size and strength of the ship he sent out some men in a shallop* who pretended to be fishing close to where she passed. I do not know why this shallop was not hailed, nor why La Normande's shallop was not sent to speak with the men: she entered the roads under a white flag* without misgivings, and anchored near two large Dutch ships [Alkmaar, Nederland], one of which had her yards raised and her sails unfurled, and was apeak* to her anchor, ready to set sail and give chase to the Normande if she tried to depart. But no one had the slightest apprehension of war, having been informed [at Pondicheri] by l'Oriflamme that there had been no signs of it when she left Europe, so that no one thought anything of this action of the Dutch ship - it was supposed that she was making ready to set sail by weighing her anchor. The French Captain sent his Ensign in the shallop* to take his compliments to the Dutch Governor, and to request from him a gun-to-gun salute for the King's ship. This officer was taken prisoner at the gate of the fortress, and ordered in the name of the Prince of Orange to surrender his sword; and was then taken to the Governor, who told him that since his King had started the war and had seized more than two hundred Dutch ships, he had orders to seize French ships in reprisal, assuring him that no harm would be done to him personally even if he were loaded with gold
and jewels, and that it was his good fortune to be already in the fortress, far from the danger to which his comrades would be exposed in the taking of their ship. To this the officer replied, that he cared little for his
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own interests, but that it disquieted him to be no longer in his King's ship, to defend her with the others. The crew of the shallop which brought the officer had also been taken prisoners: it was now filled with Dutchmen and sent back with a white flag at the stern, this being the signal arranged if the fortress agreed to return the salute, in order then to fire it. As soon as this signal was seen by La Normande, her guns were fired in salute, and the fortress replied gun for gun. But before there had been time to reload, a Dutch shallop came alongside the flute*, and two Dutch officers came aboard as if to salute the Captain, carrying their arms concealed under their jerkins [‘just-au-corps’]. The Captain received them politely and invited them to enter his cabin, but since they could not understand one another and the Dutch seemed somewhat apprehensive, the Lieutenant had the idea of looking down into the shallop, seeing there firearms and swords hidden under the men's clothes; and at the same moment he saw a large vessel coming towards the stern of the flute as if to board her. He therefore gave the alarm; but unfortunately the arms were locked up in a box, and in the cabin there was nothing but a cane, with which the Sieur de sainte Marie held the entrance for some time. Other officers had now also rushed there: a few pistol-shots were fired at them, no one being wounded. The frightened crew, without officers or arms, surrendered without resistance. Everyone was made to go on board one of the Dutch ships, from which the officers were taken into the fortress, and the soldiers and sailors into a prison in the town.
Le Coche, still at a great distance away, had no idea of the ill-fortune of La Normande, and had no expectation of a similar mishap: bets had been made every day as to which of the two ships would first arrive at the Cape, and everyone was longing for this now-hostile country. The winds make game of the ships at sea, and Providence with the vain projects of man. The only person who feared to approach the Cape was our Captain, from I do not know what presentiment of the death that awaited him there; he seemed to have no desire to touch there, and if he had not been expressly ordered not to leave La Normande (which had to go to the Cape), he would undoubtedly have passed it by to go onwards and refresh at the island of sainte Hélène....
The Cape lies at 35 degrees 30 minutes of South latitude [sic] and 40 degrees or thereabouts of longitude*. The logs differ as regards this question of the longitude of the Cape, some putting it at 42 degrees, others at 38: we reckoned it as almost exactly 40 degrees. We had difficulty in reaching this cape against the winds which God sent us, as if to dissuade us from going there; but at times one obstinately seeks one's own loss. On the twenty-fourth of April the sea appeared to us to change in colour, which made us think that we must be on the aiguilles shoal, but on sounding no bottom was found at two hundred fathoms. Although the declination* we then had, 15 degrees 30 minutes North-West, was that of this shoal, and although the position given by the Pilots agreed with this, the Captain thought us to be further East, and therefore, in order not to be set back by the winds from South-East to South-West which reign at this time of the year, he decided to go further South as far as 37 degrees, from whence it would be easy for him to gain the Cape....
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[Declinations tabulated from Pondicheri to the Cape.]
The first lands sighted on nearing the Cap de bonne Espérance, were those of the False Bay, which on the third of May appeared to be ten leagues distant. We found there extremely variable winds: during the day they allowed us to approach the land, but towards evening, veering towards the coast, they forced us to run out to sea again. On the fifth we came into the Bay with all sails set, when a thick fog, given off from the Table Mountain, entirely deprived us of the sight of the Cape, and prevented us from trying to run in, for fear of the tides and the breakers; and even more because of the little wish our Captain had to enter. He did not dare to take on himself the risk of not complying with his orders to remain with La Normande, but he sought an excuse in the bad weather which had thus far prevented him from obeying them. About noon he was preparing to put about and make for sainte Hélène, when by bad fortune the fog cleared and gave us a clear view of the entrance of the Bay. We entered at sunset by the main channel between the Robin island and the lands of the Baye de saldagne. In entering we saw four large Dutch ships [Alkmaar, Nederland, -?-, -?-], one English [Nathanael], and the Normande, still flying her flag and her white mast-head pennants [‘girouettes’] to deceive us, an easy task since no one had any suspicion of war. An important matter had been overlooked, the fixing of a signal in case we were separated, by which the first of our vessels to arrive should inform the other that she could enter in safety, if peace still reigned, so that if the second comer did not see this signal, she could still get clear: which makes it evident that at sea one cannot take too much care, that the worst should always be expected, and that in arriving anywhere one should act as if arriving among enemies, and especially during long voyages. The Dutch Commandant had expected that
this should have been done, since he repeatedly asked those of La Normande what signal had been agreed on with Le Coche to reassure her when she arrived; but he was told, that there was none. He had thought, seeing us delay for so long at the entrance of the Bay, that we had our suspicions, and he was continually up above with his spy-glass to his eyes to watch our manoeuvres, trembling with fear of losing such a fine prize. I leave you to imagine how everything was made ready to receive us and entertain us well.
On arriving at the anchorage we saluted the King's ship La Normande from far away, with our sails still set. The fortress replied to this salute, which was not intended for it, and La Normande also replied to it; but since the Dutch who were on board her did not know our customs, they gave us gun for gun, and when we thanked them with three guns they replied with as many. [A Royal ship should have acknowledged with one gun less than the merchantman's salute, and in reply to her three should have fired one only.] This irregularity in saluting ... caused us some surprise, but not as yet any suspicion. We anchored, and then we saluted the fortress, according to the custom of saluting forts on arrival only after anchoring. It replied liberally to our salute for the second time: there was no sparing of powder that day! We did not send anyone to La Normande, because our skiff [‘canot’] was not yet ready for launching, and when La Normande sent no one to us, it was thought that their lack of promptitude was perhaps because their
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shallop* [‘chaloupe’] was busy getting water, and the crew was fatigued. Nothing further was thought of it: the joy of having arrived left no room for suspicions - everyone thought only of going ashore next day.
About nine o'clock in the evening one of our officers saw in the moonlight a large Dutch vessel being towed towards us. He informed our Captain, everyone came on deck, and this manoeuvre gave rise to very unpleasant conjectures. We began to reflect on the irregularity of the salutes given us, and on the silence of La Normande: there was now no further doubt but that we were at war, and that the flute* was already taken. We shouted to her from Le Coche: she did not reply. We risked sending the skiff with a note: its crew were taken prisoner there, and the skiff sank on coming alongside. The detention of the skiff and of its crew fully revealed to us what they had wished to hide. We ran to arms: our guns were loaded with ball, and the batteries were reinforced with ten or twelve pieces which were still unmounted. The Captain, a resolute man, gave his orders, protesting that so long as he was alive he would never allow his ship to fall into enemy hands, that he would fight to the end, and would fire the powder-magazines if everything became desperate. It was no longer possible to get out of the Bay, because the sea was calm and the tide contrary, and it was equally impossible to defend her against 4 or 5 ships and under the guns of a fortress. However, the Dutch vessel of which I spoke, with three hundred men in her had come alongside us from poop to prow at half a musket-shot distance. Nothing was heard but the squeak of the blocks and the orders of the officers, and the musketeers were seen drawn up and the guns aimed in their ports. It was midnight: we had reason to think that the enemy would wait for dawn before attacking us, to avoid confusion in the darkness, and would first summon us to surrender; but exactly at one o'clock, when we had set up the last of our guns and as we were knocking on the deadlights of the gun-ports of the lower battery to open them, the enemy, judging that we were about to begin the fight, and to prevent us from killing any of their
people, wished to surprise us before we could be better prepared. A musket-shot was fired from one of their ships as the signal of attack, and at once the three ships gave us their broadsides and fired all their muskets. Our Captain, who was leaning against the bulwarks to watch them called out ‘Oh, the traitors! They have not even declared that we are at war - boys, open fire everywhere!’ He had hardly given this order than he was carried off by the second broadside, and his body was torn apart by a ball and thrown between decks near the hatchways. Le Sieur de Saint Vandrille who was near him was covered with his blood, and himself thrown. down by a fragment of the bulwarks which hit him in the stomach. I came from my cabin at the first sound of the guns, and on going forward on the topdeck I saw several of our men fall at my feet, the head of one being carried off by a cannon-ball, others receiving various wounds and asking for absolution. The enemy was so near us that his musketeers could pick us off man by man thanks to the moonlight: the cannon breaking and ruining everything made the ship into a terrible likeness of a house being demolished. We were fired on by five ships, of which one took us diagonally at the poop and the rest at the sides: the balls caused fragments to fly everywhere, and the
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fragments were no less dangerous than the balls. The mainmast and the mizzen were half broken. It is difficult to imagine a heavier cannonade against one ship; but it did not last. The crew lost heart on the death of the Captain, the gunners were disconcerted, and most of the sailors fled to the bottom of the hold. The Lieutenant and I found ourselves alone on the deck: he to give useless orders, I to help the wounded. I then remembered my companion Father Colusson who was still sick, and thought he might have need of my help. I passed through almost all the vessel without cover, and in this passage endured a broadside and a volley of musketry, from which God again preserved me by His goodness. I entered his cabin which I found entirely ruined: the shots had passed right through it. I thought the Father dead, but on nearing his bed I found that he had gone. On the table were two packets of diamonds which our Captain before his death had ordered to be attached to balls, to throw them into the sea should everything be hopeless, but no one had thought more of it and they were abandoned to the enemy. I was not at all tempted to open them, thinking then of nothing but death, which I expected at every step I took. To fortify myself against fear I tried to do my duty as a Missionary, and the thought that I should be killed in exposing my life for the salvation of souls sustained me and gave me joy in the midst of dangers: so admirable is the goodness of God in changing our weakness to strength, and our fears to consolations in what little we do for His service. Going out of the Great Cabin I found the chaplain of the ship and knelt down to receive the absolution of my sins, and in turn gave him absolution of his. I then went back up [sic] on deck, where the disorder was even greater than when I had come down [sic: the ‘Great Cabin’ was well above the top-deck, his ‘tillac’]. I then put it to our
Lieutenant that we should not let ourselves be wantonly massacred, and that since we were not defending ourselves we should surrender. We asked for quarter; but although our enemies heard us perfectly well, they did not neglect to fire a few more shots at us, which made us believe that they did not intend to give us quarter, to punish us for our foolhardiness in defending ourselves hopelessly. But at the same time we saw the shallops of the Dutch ships filling up with armed men to board us. I went into my cabin to throw some papers overboard: I took my crucifix, my rosary, and the New Testament, and without wishing to save anything else I went out and set myself on the deck, awaiting the enemy and commending myself to God. They climbed aboard with sword in one hand and pistol in the other, crying ‘Tuer! Tuer!’, many knowing only this one word of French. They were surprised to find a black-robed man on deck: I went to them with open arms and said in Portuguese ‘Gentlemen, we have laid down our arms: take everything and harm no one’. The soldiers in their first ardour of looting broke in everywhere, and threatened everyone to get money: no one touched me, nor demanded anything from me. An officer of the sailors who spoke French told me quite politely to embark in a shallop which he showed me; because, he added, when the men have had some drink, I should not be safe. I did not think however that I ought to abandon the others to save myself. I had all the wounded taken on board with me, and set myself with them to guide them, fearing lest some should lose strength and life on the way. The others were em- | |
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barked in various shallops, and we were all taken ashore, where we were told that the Kaffers of the coast, stirred up by the noise of battle, had asked leave to massacre us. The shallop which took us left us at the end of the bridge [Jetty*] which sticks out to sea near the fort: we traversed it, passing one by one in front of
all those who had run there to see us. It was for them a very agreeable sight, that of a Jesuit prisoner of war. They honoured me with various insults, and said that I ought to be thrown into the sea: little lacked but they did as they said, since the passage they made for me along the bridge was so narrow that I was often surprised to have passed without falling. We were all taken to prison in the hospital* of the town, except my companion [Colusson], who followed a Dutch officer and was put in the fortress with the other [officer] prisoners. He told them that he thought I had been killed at the last firing: various of these gentlemen were so good as to kneel and ask God for his mercy on me. The space [in the hospital] was so small for our large numbers that we had to remain standing for the rest of the night, fatigued as we were, so as to leave a space free for the wounded somewhat to take rest on the ground: it was hardly possible to breathe the suffocating air where we were until dawn, with doors and windows closed. At daybreak a young man entered our prison, and pushing through the crowd came to me and put a loaf into my hands, without saying anything to me or giving me the time to ask to whom I was indebted for this charity: he went away, nor was I able to see him again during the two months that we were at the Cape - apparently he was some Catholic who did not dare to let this be known. I shared the bread with those who had the greatest need of it, and soon afterwards a good Dutch lady also came to see us, from charity or inquisitiveness: she was so touched by the sight of so many unfortunates that she raised her hands and eyes to heaven and went away without saying anything to us; but when she reached her home she sent me, by the Serjeant of the guard, a plate loaded with meat, he telling me as he gave it that this meat was for me only, and that he would bring more for the others. I thanked him, but told him that I could not eat of it that day: it was a
Friday, feast of St. John at the Latin Gate. In his presence I distributed it to the wounded, praising in my heart the fatherly Providence of God, who caused me to receive more help than the others in a place where I had less hope of it than they.
The Dutch Commander was that morning in the room of the officers of La Normande, and told them the sad circumstances of our capture; and when they asked him if it were true that I had been killed he said that as yet he knew nothing of it, but would go aboard Le Coche and enquire what had become of me. On his way back he took the pains to pass there [the hospital], and sent to have me taken out by the officer, together with the Lieutenant and the Chaplain of our ship. This was the same Commander who had been there three years previously when we touched at the Cape on our way to the Indies, by name Monsieur Simon Venderstel: I had then had the honour of saluting him at his home, and had given him a microscope. He recognised me and received me very well: I greeted him in Portuguese, and told him that in the happening with which God had afflicted us, it was a great consolation for us to have fallen into the hands of his lordship: to which
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he replied that he regretted that the mishap had fallen on us, but that we could be sure that he would forget nothing to make it tolerable for us ... He said also that he much regretted [the death of] the Sieur d'Armagnan our Captain, but, he added, he was himself the cause of his own death, since how could he think of defending himself against so many ships. I replied that a Captain who defended himself on such an occasion could not be blamed, as being still in ignorance of how things stood; but that we had expected to be called upon to surrender before being attacked. I had also ordered this, he replied: it was to be done at dawn, but when you were seen to open up your batteries, it became necessary to be ahead of you, to prevent you from harming our ships. This first conversation took us as far as the Fortress, having entered which the Governor took me to the room of the officers of La Normande, and in presenting me said to them, ‘Here is the Father for whom you feared; but he whom God guards,’ he added, ‘is well guarded.’ We remained for about two months prisoners in the lodging of the Governor, with a guard at our door. He had us served as he was himself served at his table; or if this was not done, it was not for lack of his orders; he let us go for a walk each day, four of us with six musketeers and a Serjeant, who followed us everywhere that we wished to go. The Garden* of the Dutch Company is of extraordinary beauty and extent, full of all sorts of plants, flowers and fruits chosen from the four quarters of the earth; but we were in no humour to enjoy these pleasures - we longed only for the departure of the Fleet of the Indies [listed dr 30/6] which had arrived after us and was to take us to Europe. Our most agreeable walk was along the seashore, to watch whether these ships made ready to sail, which were to be our prison for four months. We consoled ourselves more seriously by our pious
exercises, which we continued as far as we could. The usual prayers were said and the rosary recited each day, and on Feastdays a meditation was recited in the morning: the rest of the day was passed fairly agreeably in reading, in prayer, or in study according to the inclination of each: it was rather pleasant to see our Frenchmen play during a part of the day at backgammon, staking the keys which were all that was left them of all their goods, without the memory of the chests they had lost coming to trouble their amusement.
While awaiting the favourable time for re-sailing, the Commander came one day to say that he would divide us up with our sailors in four ships for our return to Europe, and left us at liberty to choose among ourselves those whose company would be the most agreeable during the voyage. As we were four priests, I believe that this arrangement came from a particular Providence of God, who wished thereby that each of the four parties should have one of us to help the sick. I put the matter forward to Father Colusson and the two Chaplains, suggesting to them, that we could do nothing more agreeable to God than by sacrificing to him the satisfaction that we had of being together, and by depriving ourselves of spiritual succour in order to give this to our brethren: that in this way we would fulfil to the letter the duty of a good shepherd who risks his soul for his sheep; but that we ought not to fear, in thus somewhat endangering for charity our own salvation, that any ill should come to us; that God in His mercy would keep this danger
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from us, and that this would only oblige us to be more on our guard. The Sieur de Courcelles, who had brought from Bengal a malady from which he could not recover, requested the Governor that I might be with him in the same ship, saying that he wished to die in my hands: we were both of us detailed to be aboard their Admiral*. The others made their choices of the vessel they wished.
When these groups were arranged, on the morning of June the twentieth the Commander had us called one after the other, according to the order of the ships to which we were detailed; but before passing into his room there were in his anteroom three officials: to wit his Lieutenant [Secunde*, A. de Man], the Fiscaal* [Blesius], and a commissioner: these searched each of us, without the knowledge of the rest, in a manner unworthy of the place where it was done. When my turn came, I entered without knowing what was in hand, and asked these officials to let me speak with the Governor, who had sent for me. They said that I should see him in a moment, and nevertheless drank to my health and invited me to drink to theirs. I do not know whether it was from some consideration for my character and the habit I wore, but they discussed together who should propose to me to let myself be searched, as they had searched the others. They asked me if I had any diamonds: I said No. They wished to know if I had any money: I was no more obliged to tell them this than a wayfarer is obliged to tell highwaymen; but nevertheless, in order not to give these officials of the so-called Reformed Religion the opportunity to say, that our clerics did not fear to lie for base reasons, I myself gave them the little I had. As they then wished to search my clothes, I perceived the secular clothing which I had agreed with the Commander to wear in passing through Holland. I told them that I would put on this suit, and that I would abandon to them more readily than they supposed, all the gold and jewels that they imagined to be in my robe. They were surprised to find nothing there, and could not imagine how I came to be so poor, coming from the Indies and having been in a ship in which there were so many diamonds. I had on my neck a small copper crucifix on a wooden cross: they grabbed it, thinking it was of gold, but looking more closely they saw it was only copper, and left it. Soon after, to be
sure that they had made no mistake, they asked to see it again, and having made sure that it was of little value they told me to keep it, testifying that they were much edified that I had kept this rather than diamonds. They gave me back also my rosary and a New Testament. This was all that God allowed to remain to me, to make me see the state of poverty in which a Missionary should live, so that he may have confidence in God only and no desire except for Him.
When these officials had sufficiently satisfied with me their inquisitiveness (rather than their avarice), they had me pass into the room of the Commander, who offered me his hand, and received me laughing at my new costume ‘O Senhor Padre ja Cavalhero de boã esperanca’, ‘Here is the Father become Chevalier of Good Hope’. I replied to him in the same language ‘Cavalhero não, mas de boã Esperanca si’, ‘Chevalier I am not, but I am of good hope. You have taken everything from me, Sir, I am left with nothing but the good hope I have in God.’ He had a collation served of fruits and preserves: I laughed
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within myself at the comedies that are played there. Behind the scenes we are feasted, and on the stage we have just been stripped under the very eyes of a Governor of whom we are the prisoners of war, and who has fed us at his house for two months, chatting familiarly with us every day. I think that since wars have been waged, few similar examples have been seen.
We were set aboard, each in the vessel designated, but about a hundred of our sailors were sent to Batavia, because the Captains said that they could not transport so many French without danger. We remained another ten days in the roads, in very cold weather: all the mountains around were covered with snow, being the month of June which is mid-Winter for these lands. The Commander came aboard to wish us a happy voyage, and we set sail on June the thirty-first [dr 30/6]....
[Criticism of Dutch navigation.] They were to touch at three places in this passage: the Island of Sainte Hélène, which they missed; the Azores, where they wandered about for three weeks in that latitude but could get no sight of them; and finally they thought themselves in sight of the coasts of England when they had fallen more than two hundred leagues to the West of them. There is a spirit of slowness and lack of resolution in all that they do: they called Councils* thirty times for nothing but trifles....
[Idea of sailing Northabout* abandoned, season too late.] They feared the French and did not trust the English. Each of their ships has as officers only a Captain and three Pilots, all promoted from sailors, with the result that they have no authority over the crew.... In my ship on one occasion they challenged the Captain to come down from the deck and fight with his fists. In another they beat on the door of the Captain's cabin to break it in, demanding brandy, and he was forced to give them Spanish wine to pacify them....
.....
Numbers of our captors the Dutch died, and died miserably without aid for body or soul, as little helped by their Ministers as by their Surgeons: we lost two only, of whom one was the Sieur de Courcelles....
[Death of the Admiral (Johannes de Hartog) and his wife: embalmed and in lead coffins.]
We were near the English coast when the Admiral died: the Pilots reckoned that we were in the Channel, but it was the ‘False Channel’ called ‘of Bristol’....
[Escorted to Dover by two English ships.]
We arrived in sight of the islands of Zeeland on the twenty-eighth of October, 1689.... |
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