Girard0301

31 December 1843. - Father Pierre Rougeyron to Father Claude-Joseph Favier, New Caledonia

From the Poupinel copy, APM ONC 208 Rougeyron.

Sheet forming four written pages.

[p. 1]

Apostolic Vicariate of Central Oceania.

Letter from Father Rougeyron, apostolic missionary of the Society of Mary, to Reverend Father Favier, of the same Society.

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Port Balade, New Caledonia, 31 December 1843

My reverend Father,

[1]

Having finally arrived at the end of our very long voyage, after setting foot on this land of New Caledonia, which for so long had been the object of our conversations and our keenest desires, one of my first cares is to cast a brief glance back over the route we have traveled, in order to recount to you some of the circumstances of our navigation. I am happy to turn my thoughts back toward you and the novitiate house; your wise counsels will guide me, and the hope that you will pray for me will sustain me in trials. I shall not be able this time to enter into many details; you will easily understand the difficulties brought by a first establishment, and in a few days the corvette Bucéphale must set sail.

[2]

...... It was on 29 November last that we sighted Wallis. I leave you to imagine, my Father, what joy was ours at the sight of those smiling islets that surround the main island. On that beloved land we were going to find the worthy confrere who, by episcopal consecration, was to become our pastor and our father. Since contrary wind prevented the Bucéphale from entering the harbor, we went down with Monsignor d'Amata into one of the ship's boats, which was to take us ashore. From the middle of the sea we saw a great multitude on the shore, and at the moment when we were about to set foot on land, they rushed upon our boat and carried it on their shoulders. For a moment we were afraid, but soon we understood that they wished in this way to honor Monsignor the coadjutor, and then we let them satisfy their devotion.

[3]

We found Reverend Father Bataillon without hat and without shoes, having only miserable clothing in tatters. Ah! how he has suffered and fought during the six years of his stay at Wallis. Who else would have been worthy, as he was, to be the first apostolic vicar of this new mission that he founded with such difficulty? Everything charmed us in him, even his glorious poverty. Everyone here applauded wholeheartedly the choice of the Holy See; he alone was dismayed by his promotion to the episcopate. At the announcement of this news, he remained speechless. How happy you would have been, my reverend Father, had you witnessed the joy of all his neophytes. This news spread in an instant throughout the whole island; on every side people could be heard crying: "Pataio epikopo, Pataio epikopo," Bataillon is bishop! And they came in crowds to prostrate themselves at his feet to receive his blessing.

[4]

The ceremony of consecration took place on 3 December, a very memorable day: besides being the feast of the patron of the missions, it was also the same day on which, six years earlier, Monsignor the Bishop of Enos had said Holy Mass for the first time in a forest on this island. After the ceremony, which greatly edified our good natives and satisfied all the officers and crew of the Bucéphale, there was a feast attended by the king and queen of Wallis, as well as by the officers; the celebration ended with a solemn round of kava.

[5]

Now our Christians are beginning to devote themselves to cultivation and to improve their lot. The women are occupied in spinning cotton, and soon these poor peoples will be able to make cloth for themselves. All the children are learning to read and write. At this moment in Wallis they are occupied in replacing bamboo churches with plank churches. These are little masterpieces for the country.

[6]

But what touched me most was the fervor of the primitive Church, which I saw reborn on this island. Every evening each village gathers in its church to say prayers, and there is a catechist appointed to preside over the assembly. When prayer is finished, they divide up, some into their huts, others on the shore, while the rest remain in the valley, and then they recite the rosary and sing hymns in honor of Jesus and Mary. On Saturday these songs continue until 11 o'clock and even midnight. Thus throughout the whole island you hear pious songs, and the whole island blesses at once the God who has saved it. In the morning these songs begin again at dawn, and at sunrise the missionary rings for Holy Mass, to which all hasten eagerly. How their recollection in prayer edified me and covered me with confusion! Nothing could distract them in this holy exercise. One day, when I was accompanying Monsignor Douarre, we found ourselves very near a considerable group of these pious Christians occupied in their prayers. They heard us; only two turned their heads ever so slightly, and not one left prayer to come to us, which is so natural to a Polynesian. Of 2,000 persons who can receive communion, nearly 500 approach the holy table each Sunday; and the missionary's great difficulty is finding matter in order to be able to give them absolution. Formerly this people was deceitful, thieves by profession, pirates, cannibals; today, so powerful has grace been in changing morals, gentleness forms their character, frankness seems natural to them, and they hold theft in horror. Here there is no longer any need for locks; the missionary can leave fruit, wine, money, and goods within their reach without fear that they will touch them. Happy people, to have so well tasted the gift of God! Happy we ourselves, to think that they constantly raise suppliant hands to heaven for us! No doubt they will obtain the same benefit for thousands of other unbelievers.

[7]

Death no longer seems to have its terrors for them. "Why fear death?" one of them said to me. "Will we not be happier in heaven?" Thus, during my stay at Wallis, an old woman came to die, and her relatives, instead of giving themselves up to desolation, came to gather around the body, recited rosaries, and continually sang hymns. [p. 3] Another time I was pitying another neophyte who was suffering greatly; he answered me: "Father, do not pity me; suffering is a good thing for heaven." He was right; but these Christians are worth more than we who for so long have been filled with graces.

[8]

After about ten days spent with Monsignor the Bishop of Enos, it was necessary to leave Wallis; but how our little apostolic troop had diminished. Five of our confreres were therefore still at the Marquesas; Father Mathieu remained with Monsignor Bataillon, as did Father Roudaire and Mr. Grézel, who are going to establish the printing press. I was leaving for New Caledonia, the only priest with Monsignor Douarre, Father Viard, and the two brothers Taragnat and Marmoiton. Good Father Roudaire shed torrents of tears in separating from Monsignor, and I confess that this separation was more painful to me than that from my parents and my homeland. But we were not alone in tears; the whole island was in desolation because of Father Viard's departure. This good Father was willing to spend some time with us in New Caledonia before returning to New Zealand. When this news was learned, there was general desolation. On the eve of his departure, the king and the chiefs came to consult Monsignor Bataillon to know whether there would be sin in carrying him off. Their plan was to take him into a wood and tie him to a tree until the ship had left. The prelate having answered them that it was not permitted to oppose the will of God, they withdrew weeping, and the whole night was spent in cries and lamentations. More than 2,000 times, in a mournful tone, they repeated the following phrase: "Our father is dead, let us weep." More than 300 young men accompanied him for more than two leagues, each carrying a basket of fruit for the Father. But the moment of departure had arrived; we were already advancing toward the boat. Then the whole village moved to the shore and uttered cries of grief that made me shudder. Several fainted. We were already offshore when suddenly a crowd of people threw themselves into the water and swam alongside the boat to see once more the good Father who was being taken from them.

[9]

Monsignor Douarre had asked for a devoted young man to accompany him to New Caledonia. One presented himself immediately. Monsignor gave him a terrible picture of the dangers he was going to face. No matter; he answered that he was too happy to be chosen to go to martyrdom. Everything was arranged for his departure when the chief suddenly placed an obstacle in the way. The young man nevertheless came to the shore, but he was held tied up so that he could not follow us. This poor young man dissolved into tears. We were already far out at sea when we discovered a man swimming toward us; it was he, but six men who were pursuing him caught him and dragged him back to land.

[10]

We only visited the island of Futuna, which has become so dear to us since the martyrdom of our fortunate confrere Father Chanel. The blood of the martyr has watered and fertilized this land, until then sterile in Christians. Today nearly all the inhabitants are baptized and give the same edifying spectacle as those of Wallis. They too are occupied in rebuilding their churches. I saw the young King Sam; not only is he a handsome man with polished manners, but also a fervent Christian, who approaches the holy table every week. [p. 4]

[11]

At last we arrived and settled in New Caledonia on 21 December. To recount to you at this moment everything that has happened since the instant when we set foot on land would be impossible for me. Besides, I shall be able to make it the subject of a long and interesting letter. This new homeland may be 80 leagues by 15. I have not yet seen any country that reminded me of Auvergne as well as this great island does. It has high mountains, rich valleys, magnificent waterfalls. Monsignor Douarre has bought a pretty little property where we have a large spring of very good water. Now they are building us a little house in another part of the island where we are to live. It is to be believed that we are the only Europeans who inhabit this savage country. Until today the natives have received us well; we do not know whether this goodwill is sincere, for fear of the ship may have much to do with it. Nevertheless, we hope that it will be the same in the future, for Providence watches over its missionaries, and Mary over her children. We are going to begin our apostolate; we expect that at first it will be an apostolate of patience and prayer. No one has as much need as we do of help from above; for, abandoned in the midst of a people who perhaps will be more ferocious toward us than tigers, God alone is going to be our defense. What encourages us, what makes us happy, is the thought that the dear Society of Mary does not cease to pray for us, that each day our confreres remember us at the holy altar. Finally, we are strengthened by the touching communion of prayers that exists above all among those associated with the work of the Propagation of the Faith.

[12]

We have the hope that in a few months a new vessel of the royal navy will come to visit us, bring us aid and new confreres. We owe great gratitude to Admiral Du Petit-Thouars, Governor Bruat, Commandant Laferrière, and to all the officers of the Bucéphale. They were admirable toward us and toward the neophytes of all the missions we visited. I can say without exaggeration that Mr. Laferrière constantly had the zeal and devotion of a missionary. Accept......

Rougeyron

apostolic missionary