1809.] Account of Thomas Major's Confinement in the Bastille. 4°5 
and the Lives of the Saints.* These I 
read for my amusement. One _ story 
(among many others of equal veracity) 
was so remarkable that I shall never for- 
getit. ‘There was a convent, the steeple 
of which was repairing, a Monk crossing 
the quadrangle, at that instant saw a 
workinan fall from the scaffolding at the 
top. He prayed to the Virgin Mary, 
that the man might remain in the air, ull 
he had a proper authorny from his su- 
perior, to work a miracle, which was 
granted, and the man came duwn un- 
hurt. 
‘* Credutity, the child of Folly, 
Begot on cloyster’d Melancholy.” Churchill. 
Many of those stories related in the 
Lives of the Saints, are so preposterous 
aud absurd, that among people of edu- 
Cation, it is become a proverbial saying 
fora great har, He lies luke the Lives of 
the Saints. A very pretty recommen- 
dation for reading those holy impositons. 
These tales are firmly believed by the 
common people in general, so strong is 
bigotry and the prejudice of education. 
But it is almost next, to impossible, to 
eradicate errors when the mind has taken 
a wrong bias in youth, so firmly are these 
absurdities rivetted in the ideas, 
There was alo upon the table a pewter 
tumbler, whereon several persons (who 
had been inhabitants of this gloomy man- 
sion of sorrow) had scratched their 
names. I followed their example, by 
writing my name with an-iron fork, with’ 
the vear and day of the month I came in; 
I Jett a gap, with an intention of filling 
it up the day I went cut, but I was so 
happy at the news of my release, that I 
forgot that circumstance. At dinner 
time, which was about eleven o’clock, 
the keeper always came and brought me 
a soup, the bouilli, and a hot dish be- 
sides; with a change of napkin.t At 
night, about six o’clock, I had two hot 
_* Every room I imagine had the same, as I 
found on the title pages were written, Bas- 
tille. 
+ The frequent accounts I had heard of the 
cruelties acted in this place, and of the many 
who had privately been put to death, then 
accurred to me, and I could not help think- 
ing, that possibly I might be poisoned, I 
looked attentively at my repast some time, and 
reasoned with myself; as 1 was wholly at 
their mercy, if they had any such intentions 
of destroying me, it was totally out of my 
power to preventit; and if that was the case, 
the sooner my days were ended, the better, 
rather than Janguish out a life in misery and 
woe ; upon which, without further hesitation, 
dishes for supper, and a dessert. I was 
extremely well entertained by the go- 
vernor, who was allowed ten livres per 
day by the government, to find me in 
necessaries; which is equal to eight shil- 
lings and nine-pence, English money. 
This must afford an exceeding good re- 
venue to him, besides his appomtment 
of two thousand five liundred pounds per 
annum ; for 1 believe the prisoners have 
very little appetite, from the want of air 
and exercise, if I may judge of others by 
myself. Atl the chambers are numbered, 
and the Bastiile name of the prisoner, 1s 
his number in such a tower, myself being 
the second or third Basiniere. This pre- 
vents the keeper from knowing the name 
of the prisoner, unless he is willing to 
disclose it himself. This turnkey has 
the charge of carrying their meals, and 
taking the remaing, which are his per- 
quisites. His salary is about forty pounds 
perannum. ‘There are four turnkeys to 
the eight towers, called Liberty, Ber- 
taudiere, Basiniere, dela Conte, du Tre- 
sor, du Chapelle, du Cow, and du Paitze. 
The name of Porte-Clefs, Key. Beurers, 
are given them on account of the mon- 
strous bunches of keys they carry, there 
being five great ones to asingle chamber, 
At the time of meals, an armed centinel 
is placed below, at the entrance of each 
tower. In the day time, besides the five 
sentinels, at the different yates, there is 
one at the outer gate of the castle, to 
keep off inquisitive persons, who might 
stop to view the entrance, merely out of 
curiosity. 4 
The keeper always staid whilst I cut 
my meat and took the knife with him, 
probably lest I might do myself a mis« 
chief. Had I any such intentions, I 
could easily have destroyed myself with 
the three-pronged iron-fork, which he 
left; or I could have finished my days 
with my garters, against the iron bars. 
But, thanks to Providence, I had no idea 
of committing so rash an action, however 
desperate might then be my situation.* 
I was innocent, and therefore endea- 
voured to keep up my drooping spirits as 
much as possible, and not to wound my 
repose with imaginary ills. ; 
(To be continued. ) 
I began my lonely repast, but not without 
some difidence and reluctance ; from the idea 
I had formed, it was a sauce by no means 
pleasing to the palate, 
* «Impatience does become a sin, to rush 
into the secret house of death, ere death dare 
look usin the face.”  Sdakespeare, . 
To 
