This is a topic that always returns to the forefront whenever issues of justice are discussed in Portugal, where it is naturally associated with the question of prisons. Nothing, however, compares to what was happening in France in the seventeenth century—neither in terms of the facilities nor the administration of justice. The condition in which those condemned to the galleys lived was a disgrace to society and a thorn in the human and Christian conscience of France. For this reason, Monsieur de Gondi, General Commander of the Navy (1), asked the king to appoint a General Chaplain for the Navy, charged with attending to the human and religious aspects that seemed to have vanished from French prisons. Father Vincent was chosen to carry out these duties.

To understand what that underworld was like, let us quote Bourdaloue (2), the famous preacher who, a few years later, addressing the ladies of the nobility, sought to awaken in them some sensitivity toward what was still happening in French prisons:

“Descend, ladies, into those deep dungeons where human justice reveals all its severity; try to penetrate the shadows of those dark dwellings. Fix your gaze and look, if you can, through that horrendous darkness, at one of those wretches: exhausted and crushed by the weight of the chains that bind him. Add to all those torments of the spirit the suffering of the body: for dwelling, a foul dungeon; for food, a coarse and rationed piece of bread; for bed, a heap of straw.” (3)

Because it was difficult to find paid laborers due to the harshness of the work, judges had become accustomed to sentencing men to several years in the galleys for any reason. And once chained to the oars, the convicts were kept there even beyond the period set by the courts. As if that were not enough, they were treated like beasts of burden. Chained to their benches, they rowed without rest to the rhythm of the whip, which from time to time struck their bare backs (4). Being sentenced to the galleys was practically equivalent to a death sentence. In naval battles, they were the most exposed to enemy attacks and the first to die. Likewise, in the event of shipwreck, death was certain: bound by heavy iron chains, they could neither flee nor swim.

In Father Vincent de Paul we find not only a passionate defender but, above all, an implementer of this longed-for humanization—especially for the victims of brutality and the injustices committed by unscrupulous judges, guards, and other public officials. One of the most remarkable initiatives of his life, after being appointed Chief Chaplain of the French Navy, was his extended visitation of the prisons to see with his own eyes what was happening. There were three major concentrations of convicts: Paris, Marseille, and Bordeaux. The first was in Paris, where the condemned awaited the order to depart for the naval ports of France.

From what he observed, Father Vincent took action. He asked the Attorney General, who oversaw the prisons, to provide a more humane space and succeeded in having the prisoners transferred to a healthier location. He awakened the interest of the Ladies of Charity of Paris in this work, of which they had previously been unaware. He asked Louise de Marillac, who was responsible for the confraternity of the parish of St. Nicholas of Chardonnet, whether it might not be fitting for the prisoners also to benefit from the distributions that the Ladies of Charity made to the poor of the parish: “Give a little thoughgt to whether your Charity at Saint-Nicholas would be willing to take on the responsibility for them [that is, for the galley slaves]” (CCD:I:168). Since the ladies felt repulsed by the idea of entering those dark and foul dens where the prisoners lay on the floor, chained two by two, shouting in rage and despair, Father Vincent had the bold idea of suggesting to Louise de Marillac that this could become a task for her young Daughters of Charity—an activity that would “bring glory to God and dignity to the human condition” (3). After Paris, he made similar visits to Marseille and Bordeaux, where he found the same dismal scenes, made worse by the presence of those who, newly returned from the sea—sick or wounded—were now abandoned in those dungeons awaiting death, mixed with those preparing to depart. It was a horrific spectacle in which nothing inspired hope.

The task was enormous, and it was necessary to involve as many people as possible, not only to obtain help but also to create and foster civic awareness around this terrible reality. Donations began to arrive. Someone had to take responsibility for organizing this work. Vincent presented the proposal to Louise de Marillac: to entrust the Daughters of Charity with a permanent service in the prisons of the galley convicts. He concluded, “Precisely because I know it is difficult work, I dare to propose it to you” (4).

But sending young women to care for sick and wounded prisoners, and to improve hygiene and food conditions, was like a breath of fresh air entering the prisons—though one fraught with risks and traps. Therefore, he asked Louise to draft a set of rules for this work in the prisons. To do so, she personally went to observe the prisoners’ behavior, the Sisters’ reactions, and the awkward or delicate situations that might arise. For about eight years, she accompanied her Daughters in this mission: preparing food, dressing the wounds of the sick, distributing rations, listening to curses, and enduring mistreatment.

Eventually, a rule was created—a blend of boldness and prudence, of dedication to a noble cause: “spiritual and corporal relief not only of the sick poor, but also of convicts condemned to the galleys” (CCD:XIIIb:121). The food was prepared at home, following Louise’s recommendation that it be tasty to stimulate the prisoners’ appetite. Two key principles were established: that there be no misuse or diversion of food, before or after cooking, and that all recipes and expenditures be recorded, because it was “absolutely essential for Daughters of Charity to be known as—and actually to be—persons who keep accurate recounts” (CCD:X:165).

The work was hard. Louise, always present, accompanied her Sisters in their tasks and in the formation needed to perform them well. Carrying supplies, hauling baskets of clothing, taking pots from home to the prison, ensuring that the food was served at a fixed hour as a sign of respect for the prisoners—all this was demanding. But it was hardest because of the coarse language, the filth of the places, and the unpleasant appearance of the prisoners—with faces full of resentment, permanently angry, always demanding more. Yet, despite everything, “they are still members of Him who made Himself a servant.” And she concluded with this spiritual exhortation:

“It will not cost you much to carry the pots if you always remember that Jesus Christ is the one you are serving. If you forget, even for a short time, that the poor are members of Jesus Christ, the gentleness and love that you should always have for these our dear lords will necessarily diminish. On the contrary, that thought, when it is present, will make it easy for you to serve them, respect them, and relieve their suffering without complaint.” (5)

Later, in 1655, after several years of experience and as a synthesis of all the work of the Daughters of Charity in service to the prisoners, seen in the light of faith, Father Vincent expressed himself in these words:

“Ah, Sisters, what a happiness to serve those poor convicts abandoned into the hands of persons who have no pity for them! I have seen those poor men treated like animals; that caused God to be moved with compassion. They inspired pity in Him; as a result, His goodness did two things on their behalf: first, He had a house bought for them; second, he willed to arrange matters in such a way as to have them served by His own daughters, because to say a Daughter of Charity is to say a daughter of God” (CCD:X:103).

Fr. José Alves, CM

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(1) Philippe Emmanuel de Gondi, commander of the French Mediterranean fleet. Father Vincent de Paul was chaplain to the family and tutor to their children. After his wife’s death, Philippe was ordained a priest and entered the Oratory.
(2) Bourdaloue, a famous court preacher; in his later years, he dedicated himself to works of charity and visiting prisons.
(3) Margaret Flinton, Luísa de Marillac: Aspeto social da sua obra, p. 163.
(4) Jean Calvet, Cara Caridade: Vicente de Paulo, p. 69.
(5) Margaret Flinton, Luísa de Marillac: Aspeto social da sua obra, p. 115.