Calvin Synod Herald, 1976 (76. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)

1976-01-01 / 1-2. szám

4

CALVIN SYNOD HERALD

which had no chimney and, in order to avoid the smoke he had to lay on the ground; his flesh on his waist and shoulders decayed to the bones and fell away in pieces, yet his friends often heard him pray: “Lord, do not remember my sinfulness, but come to my aid by your grace and sanctify to me this awful pain so that it may serve your purposes for the glory of Your Name, for the peace of my soul and for the benefit of the saints living in this world...”

However, the road was not without joy. At Magyarbród the local priest offered beer to them. At Moravska-Ostrava a similar thing happened. As they crossed the River Morva, another priest visited them and said these words: “I have read many books of your teachers, but have never met a person following your religion. And now, although I wish to see you in different circumstances, I am happy to meet you. I believe, that iron, prison, torture are not the means by which to make people accept or refuse the things you teach. I deeply regret that Christians can be such tyrants in these matters...” But the greatest joy they found in Chieti, where the merciful Italian Archbishop of the city, Jácint often helped them with food, and even visited them several times discussing matters of faith with them. When the good archbishop was dying, the Rev. István Harsányi was close to him and referring to these discussions heard him saying: “Do you hear it? I no longer pray to the saints!...”

Finally they arrived to Naples. It took almost two months: from March 18 to May 7, 1675. Of the forty-two only thirty arrived. These thirty were sold on May 8, 1675 for fifty Spanish gold coins as galley slaves forever; their names were recorded as those who could never regain freedom. After singing their creed: “Although sold bodily, we are redeemed by Jesus Christ the Lord, and even if we all must die in misery, we shall never bow to a dumb idol,” they were chained to their oars on four vessels, the Don Pedro Toledo, the Gonsalvo da Cordova, the San Jago, and the Santa Clara.

The galley of the 18th century was a Mediterranian warship approximately one hundred eighteen feet long and eighteen feet wide. Its chief driving power consisted of fifty-two pairs of oars, each thirty feet long, driven by three to six persons, thus a total of two hundred to two hundred twenty criminals or purchased slaves were needed for its operation. On the smaller vessels the oars were aramged in one row, but on the bigger ones in three askew rows. The prisoners had to row sometimes twenty hours a day standing and gagged so that they might not howl too loudly. They were chained to their benches, resting and sleeping on them, and never moving from them until death. At meal time — often without stopping — the guards dredged out the pear-shaped, springy gag from their mouth and stuffed them with biscuits toasted in vinegar-wine. Conversation was strictly forbidden; thus some of the slaves forgot speech during the long imprisonment and could utter

only the “hu-hu-hu” howling. Beating was common even for the least disobedience or misunderstanding. The Rev. Mihály Paulovitz was beaten to death because he thought in Latin when he heard “Leva mano!” (“Off your hands!”) w’hile in Italian it means the opposite. His corpse remained unburied for four days; when cast in the ocean, a storm washed the body to the shore where dogs and birds devoured it... The recollection of the Rev. Ferenc Foris gives us a vivid picture: “While rowing or engaged in other strenuous work, we had to take off all our clothes except a short loin-cloth so that we would do our work, more dreadfully feeling the hands of our taskmasters more effectively on our naked body ... Our misery is daily increasing. On July 3, 1675, seven from among us were taken to Sicily, to galleys armed against France; four of them returned on October 11 and two on February 4, 1676 so feeble and tortured that János Tinkovich expired a few days after their arrival: exactly on the day when we were liberated ...” (Febuary 11, 1676)

Thanks for the liberation of our galley slaves are due primarily to the Holland nobility. On their behalf the Dutch ambassador at Vienna intervened with Leopold I, and on behalf of the galley slaves, signed an agreement not to return to their homeland after regaining freedom. The released prisoners were taken to the vessel of the Dutch admiral, Michael De Ruyter; when his eyes fell upon the poor, emaciated bodies of those ministers, he said: “I have many battles to my credit against all kinds of enemies, but this is my finest victory, in that I have been permitted to set free Christ’s innocent servants from an unbearable burden.” One of the ministers, István Harsányi sought to express thanks for the liberation, but the admiral interrupted him, saying: “It is not necessary to thank us for our good will for we just happen to be instruments of God. Give thanks to Him; He is the author of your liberty!” But to that the minister replied: “Yes, but we ought to give thanks also to the instruments that God uses.” And he was right, for it was De Ruyter anchored in the bay of Naples who wrote a “pious and effective” letter to the procrastinating leaders of Naples stating that he made his accurate artillerymen take aim at the towers of Naples and they would keep on practicing while the Spaniards kept on thinking about the release of the prisoners...

The road to freedom was still not smooth. The prisoners had to pay back the 50-50 golden pieces paid for them by the Spaniards. The huge sum of money was collected in Switzerland by the Weltz brothers who lived in Venice. English ships took them from Sicily to Venice where the city received them in a festive mood. Because by the terms of the agreement they could not return to Hungary, they set off for the hospitable lands of Switzerland, Holland, England and Germany that had gladly offered them asylum.

The story of the galley slaves was written by many persons, among them by two galley slaves,