Girard0320

20 February-25 July 1844 - Father Jérôme Grange to Father Jean-Claude Colin, Tonga

Based on the original, APM OC 208 (Tonga), Grange. In the ED1 letter register it bore number 140.

Five sheets comprising twenty written pages, together with a slip of paper measuring 50 mm × 146 mm, pasted at the top of the first page and bearing text that seems better placed at the end of the letter. Poupinel's annotation is at the top of the first page.

Translated by Merv Duffy and ChatGPT, August 2026

[p. 1]

[In Poupinel's hand:] Tonga-Tabu - 20 February 1844.

Tonga-Tabou, 20 February 1844

My Very Reverend Father,

[1]

Allow me to say a few words to you concerning the mission and its administration. I have neither the time nor the courage to arrange all these matters in order; you will judge them according to your wisdom, and I ask your pardon in advance for anything in them that may be minus rectum. It is a son opening his heart to the father whom he loves and by whom he is loved. I greatly doubt that you know the whole truth about the mission and its members, who are your children. I shall tell it to you as far as I know it and in its full extent. It is important that you know it in full.

[2]

From what I see, people in Europe generally have an inaccurate idea of our missions, and this inaccurate idea may be harmful. In France I have seen parish priests exalt the missions while complaining about their own parishes and scolding parishioners in whom they found nothing good, no virtue, and no estimable quality. There are several reasons for this. First, accounts written about the missions, already somewhat inaccurate, are considered only from their favourable aspects: they are a medal of which only the shining side is seen. Second, being four, five, or six thousand leagues away, people pay no attention to all the circumstances of things that affect only those immediately concerned. Moreover, Montesquieu's principle, there are things that are always said because they were once said, applies very well here. Once a prejudice has taken root it is so strong that people continue repeating what they once heard even when diametrically contrary facts stand before their eyes. But if they considered this other principle of the great Master, a fructibus eorum cognoscetis eos, perhaps they would judge quite differently.

[3]

Are the peoples of Oceania better in religious matters than those of Europe? What I say of Oceania can, I think, also be said of Asia, Africa, and America. If a European answered me affirmatively, I would give him the answer I gave His Excellency the other day. Here it is: [p. 2] To answer this question, one must consider the means employed to convert them and the successes obtained by those same means: a fructibus eorum. Our mission is partly Protestant and partly pagan. His Excellency said to me one day: “We have not been here very long, and already several Protestants have come over to our side, whereas in France I have seen mixed parishes where not one heretic became Catholic in twenty years.” “Yes,” I told him, “that is true, and I myself have seen parishes where not only did Protestants not become Catholics, but Catholics became Protestants. But let us see: do the parish priests there employ the means we employ here? If those priests had freely given everyone medicines to cure their illnesses; if they had charitable brothers to prepare herbal infusions for them all, shave them, administer remedies at all times, and dress their wounds; if those priests had waited to eat dinner until the last parishioner had brought them a few pieces of cold potato; and if they had continually gone into the poor people's verminous huts to give every kind of temporal assistance, then the comparison would be fair. If, after all that, they had converted no one, you could say that the peoples of Europe are inferior to those of Oceania. But have you seen all that done? Certainly not. If you consider everything carefully, you have often seen that outwardly parish priests differed little from Protestant ministers except by demanding their dues more rigorously. We have cured several people whose illnesses appeared incurable, yet they remained in heresy or paganism; and although some declared themselves ours, several abandoned us after a few months. Do you think that, with such means, a great many Europeans would not have left error?”

[4]

In the Annals, speaking of the peoples of Asia, I read these remarkable words: One would truly be tempted to believe that this good people had no part in the common fault and did not taste the apple. I could reply to the author of that letter: “If that is so, why have you not converted this good people? After preaching to them for so long and with such zeal, you would need only show yourself to make good Christians of these people who, you say, yearn with all the ardour of their desires for the truth. Why, then, after you have cultivated this soil for so long, is the number of Christians still so small and perhaps so lukewarm? A fructibus eorum cognoscetis eos.” Allow me, therefore, to believe that this people ate a good piece of the apple [p. 3] and even added some pears.

[5]

The fervour of the Christians of China is praised because three or four martyrs are counted during a general persecution. But among the great number of Christians in that vast country, how many apostates were there? They are not counted. Three or four martyrs! If a similar persecution occurred in France, a greater number would be found in one moderately fervent little parish.

[6]

A general illness occurred on our island. We exhausted ourselves caring for everyone, and the good God so blessed our perseverance that no one died in the large tribe among whom we live. During that interval the ship arrived, bringing us a number of articles, all of which we distributed free of charge and without distinction to Christians and pagans. Immediately afterward, the pagans of that very tribe agreed among themselves not to turn to the religion of the papists. I frankly believe that the peoples of the islands we inhabit and other similar peoples are generally more apathetic, more indifferent, less generous, and less grateful than Europeans. The reason, I believe, lies in the climate and in habits different from those of Europe. In Europe, a poorly dressed man numb with cold will be full of gratitude toward someone who gives him clothing or hospitality, because clothing and shelter are true benefits and needs he cannot do without. A lost traveller will find no words to express his gratitude to someone who shows him the right road. In Europe, benefits touch the heart in proportion to how necessary they are to their recipient. The heart expands through the many forms of knowledge born of society; but here each person lives in isolation, in complete selfishness, and has, so to speak, no real needs, with a heart and mind as narrow as the land he inhabits.

[7]

I observe that travel writing is more a romantic creation than true history and gives scarcely a more accurate idea of the peoples and countries it describes than Virgil gives of pastoral customs in his Georgics and Eclogues. Indeed, the only accurate element I find in these accounts is geographical position, and not always even that. The reason is that those who wrote them had their minds and imaginations stirred more than they understood the customs of the peoples they described, customs it was impossible for them to [p. 4] know. If I related the history of these peoples with full knowledge and complete fidelity, my narrative would be the opposite of all theirs. I say that they could not know them. Navigators who supplied information about these countries arrived at a roadstead, remained there for fifteen or twenty days without knowing the language, and consequently could scarcely judge the people as a whole any better than a foreigner could judge France merely from seeing the king and a few ministers. Yet there is a great difference between a passer-by from the Alps or Upper Brittany and the king of France with his court. As everyone knows, that is no way to judge a people. To know them thoroughly one must see them informally, question them, understand them, and be understood by them. For example, the cleanliness of the islands where I live has been exalted. But if their panegyrists had eaten, drunk, and lodged with them as I have - things whose description alone would turn the stomach - and if, after a three- or four-day journey, they had been obliged to wash all their clothing to rid it of vermin, they would have spoken very differently.

[8]

What astonishes me still more is that nearly all missionaries continue to lend credibility to these false ideas, and people would have me do the same. Their reason, they say, is to encourage ever more vocations. But I would ask them first whether it is ever permissible to lie, and second whether a vocation founded upon error can produce much good. The conduct of our divine Master was very different. He had said that the harvest was great and the number of labourers very small. A man came forward and promised to follow Him everywhere; that is, this man presented himself to become a missionary. But Jesus Christ, who knew that to be a good missionary one must first know the mission's conditions, immediately told him: “Foxes have dens and the birds of heaven nests in which to rest, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.” The disciple must not be treated better than the Master. In other words, Jesus Christ set out the conditions of the mission for him. The young man withdrew. All commentators agree that this man missed his vocation. I would be tempted to reverse the proposition and believe that, had he followed Jesus Christ, he would have missed it. He may have possessed all the qualities [p. 5] of a good Christian without possessing those of an apostle or missionary. When encouraging vocations in this manner, I think great care must be taken not to cause some missionaries later to say, “Had I known, I would not have come,” and how many have in fact suffered shipwreck because they entered the missionary vocation in that way! They may have had the qualifications sufficient for an ordinary mission as they imagined it and as it had been portrayed to them, but not for the mission as it actually was.

[9]

Our peoples are not as eager for grace as you may have been told. Here as elsewhere, and more than elsewhere, people fear nothing so much as what is spiritually beneficial to them; everywhere they must be compelled to be happy. Fine phrases are made for you, showing islands stretching out their arms and crying loudly for men to break for them the bread of the Word, islands yearning for the benefits of religion as the earth after a long drought yearns for heaven's dew. Such ideas make fine rhetoric, but they are far from the truth. Afterward, ask those who make such statements for the results of their work and then, if on this occasion they tell you the truth, a fructibus eorum cognoscetis eos. I do not think an island has ever yet sincerely asked for missionaries; we should be very pleased when they are willing to tolerate us. For twenty months we have sought to establish ourselves in a tribe on our island where, according to His Excellency, people were loudly demanding us, and we have continually been refused. They receive us well when we go there, especially if we bring gifts, but if we wish to say a word about religion, they are deaf. I can state in all sincerity that I have never yet seen anyone come to religion for purely supernatural motives. One must therefore expect a rupture and an almost general desertion by those who embrace religion unless we remain constantly present to support them through certain natural and supernatural means together.

[10]

Nevertheless, I would not wish to discourage missionaries who want to come to our islands. Without telling them every hardship endured here, however, I would want them to know at least some, so that they would be less surprised when they experienced them. It must be admitted that, although these peoples possess the bad qualities I have just mentioned and many others besides, they nevertheless give great consolation to evangelical labourers. Several live in a very Christian manner, and undoubtedly these islanders will populate heaven, provided zealous apostles show them the road. Men so distant [p. 6] from the truth cannot be changed in a day. Meanwhile, some are always being converted. Even if we had no other reason to love them than that they are our brothers, redeemed like us by the blood of Jesus Christ, that alone would be more than sufficient. How many souls, even in this seemingly ungrateful country, would thank us and praise God in heaven for all eternity if they had guides to lead them there! I have not been here very long, and already through my ministry a great number of souls praise God in heaven who would otherwise curse Him in hell - the children.

[11]

Almost everyone has his own way of seeing nearly everything, but I think disagreement of opinion comes from prejudice. If people considered things carefully and independently of all prejudice, I believe their ideas would agree much more closely. To counterbalance the heretics in the eyes of the inhabitants, people advance, and want me to advance, as proof that ours is the true religion, the facts that we neither buy nor sell anything; that we endure hunger and thirst; that we eat only what good people are willing to give us; that we are so poor as to possess nothing; and that we give everything without wishing to receive anything. These reasons are undoubtedly good, but they are not direct proof of the religion. I think that if an author wrote a booklet offering no other proofs of the true religion, he would deserve to be reprimanded by the Church. For my part, I like to suppose that everyone has common sense, even the greatest idiots.

[12]

Indeed, if one of the heretical missionaries with whom we have to deal reasoned with us as follows: “You claim that the foregoing proofs are marks of the true religion, but in that case where is the true religion? Surely it is not found in the pope, who draws revenues from every quarter and has a kingdom and soldiers to defend him. It is not found in the cardinals, who inhabit magnificent houses and receive fine stipends. It is not found in your clergy, who do nothing for nothing and consequently are better housed, better clothed, and better fed than all their parishioners. It certainly is not found in your bishop, who receives considerable sums every year.” What could I answer him? I know that I would make distinctions, but certainly the inhabitants would scarcely understand them. I therefore do not feel able to triumph with such arguments.

[13]

Besides, Jesus Christ, whom the angels served when necessary, had a purse and made purchases; and Saint Paul, writing to the Corinthians, says: “Do we not have the right to eat and drink at the expense of those to whom [p. 7] we proclaim the Gospel?” “Yes,” he says, “we have that right, like all preachers of the Gospel, but we have not used it. If, on the contrary, we suffer every kind of inconvenience, it is so that we may place no obstacle before the Gospel of Jesus Christ and remove every reason for you to believe that self-interest makes us preach it.” This reasoning is infinitely wise, but Saint Paul is careful not to present his manner of life as a mark of the truth he proclaims, because he knew that this extraordinary path would not be the ordinary path of preachers of the Gospel, people ordinarily being incapable of it. Indeed, if it had been necessary to live in that way, people being what they are, religion would have disappeared long ago. Moreover, Saint Paul had the gift of miracles, which won him the friendship of many and could therefore ordinarily supply him with what he needed. From time to time there were generous and reasonable persons among the peoples he evangelized; here we deal only with unreasonable and ungrateful persons.

[14]

His Excellency tells us that we must trust in Providence and that it will never abandon us. I believe this and experience its effects more than anyone. But it is also Providence that distributes considerable assistance to us every year, undoubtedly so that we may use it. We must trust Providence, but we must not tempt it. We must use wisely the goods it supplies. Yet from what I know, and from what you can see for yourself, trust in Providence would apply only to us and not at all to him. To tell others that they must trust entirely in Providence while continually asking for money, money, and nothing but money appears to me more distrust than trust: distrust for oneself, and trust - I would call it negligence - for others.

[15]

Following these principles of trust, our mission has been set upon an untenable course, and certainly those who ordered it would not have wished to set the example. Not one hundredth of the island is cultivated. We could very easily have as much land as we wanted, yet we are more cramped and constrained than a wretched family in the middle of Paris. We are lodged in a public place where study and reflection are impossible and where we can do or say nothing without the whole island knowing it. I wanted to plant a few vine cuttings, but I was told that grapevines would cause a revolution on the island. [p. 8] A little gate that would not be locked, but would prevent animals from entering a small garden plot where I planted five vines, eight fig trees, and a few European plants, would supposedly have greatly harmed the house. I assure you that I was somewhat distressed by this way of proceeding, so far removed from what I had imagined and so violently opposed to my own view: refusing us what is necessary and preventing us from obtaining it ourselves!

[16]

Independently of all particular opinions, I think that for the good of the mission this way of proceeding must change, because the people we have to evangelize possess a very particular character. In their eyes humility is baseness and worthy of contempt, and their self-love, or rather their pride, is such that they will never embrace the opinion of a man they despise. This is especially so of the chiefs, and without the chiefs no one dares take the initiative. An example may help you understand. It is the distribution of kava. This distribution reveals each person's rank in society. Its preparation alone turns the stomach, and I know many people who would rather die than drink it; but let us pass over that. Once it has been prepared, everyone sits in a circle, with the chief at the head and beside him a man who directs the distribution, and each person is served according to rank. Such importance is attached to this distribution that if its director skipped one person to serve another farther away first, it would be a major cause of war. For propriety's sake we attend these distributions, and they always pass us over and serve us last. According to the custom of the country, this is the greatest contempt possible. Matters changed somewhat after I twice refused to drink in such circumstances, telling them: “You know that I drink kava out of friendship for you, and in return for that friendship you insult me in a way you never insult even the lowest inhabitant of the island.” The Father thinks it is good to endure all this because, he says, it can only benefit the mission. I am inwardly convinced that it harms the mission, because in this way they despise us and will never embrace a religion whose ministers they despise. Compared with these people we are great, and as ministers of God we truly are so. I would therefore have us preserve our rank and wisely, [p. 9] apostolically, make them feel our superiority; to do so, we must preserve our independence. I ask you, what in general would become of ministers of religion who entrusted their existence to the whim of the lowest of their parishioners, any one of whom could at pleasure drive them from the house and deprive them of food? We know the whims to which the populace is subject even in a Christian country, and all the more among pagans. Until now we have been very poor, yet despite that we have given gifts worth more than ten times what we received; nevertheless, no one on the island fails to think that he rendered us a great service by bringing a few pieces of yam. I have been obliged to eat a piece of root half gnawed by a savage and at other times, unable even to find a savage's leftovers to eat, have fallen on the road from hunger and exhaustion. Judge from this whether one can teach, study, and debate religion as our contact with the heretics requires.

[17]

Truly, the more I examine matters, the more I see that people have an inaccurate idea of the mission. In general, a European who begins missionary life at thirty or thirty-five cannot live in our countries solely on local produce; he needs some European provisions to sustain him. We can have them, since Providence, which sends us, supplies and grants them, and I am sure that if you knew our condition perfectly, you would compel us to use them. You received the letter dated 2 July 1843 that I had the honour of addressing to you, in which I discussed some means of meeting our pressing needs. I would insist upon them still more, because I am increasingly convinced that all these means are indispensable. One day my confrère and I discussed these measures. He told me that none of the things I had mentioned would be sent from Europe because, he said, people there would be scandalized; if people in France knew that we ate bread and drank a little wine on our islands, they would immediately cease giving their customary alms. His argument has some appearance of truth, but it is founded upon error. If that happened, it could come only from lack of knowledge. If the good and charitable people of Europe saw the sufferings of a poor missionary in a harsh climate like ours; if they saw a poor priest accustomed to Europe's fine climate travel eight or ten leagues along the seashore in heat of twenty-five to thirty degrees, [p. 10] with no food except a few disgusting wild fruits, and not even as many as he wanted; if they saw him sometimes collapse from hunger and exhaustion, perhaps they would not be scandalized if, upon reaching his hut, that missionary found a piece of dry bread and a drop of wine to drink.

[18]

We are no different from men in France. Yet if a priest in France, obliged to travel continually for his ministry, walked in heat, cold, and bad weather carrying in his pocket a piece of bread and in a small flask a drop of wine - please do not be scandalized - as his entire food, so that he could give more abundant alms to the people, far from being scandalized, people would admire him beyond anything imaginable. Why, then, would actions even more praiseworthy be blamed in us? Besides, if the people of Europe reflected that the Propagation of the Faith supplies four to five thousand francs each year for every priest in our mission, I believe they would be scandalized to learn that these priests suffer because the entire sum is absorbed by one man, especially if they learned that nothing is spent here on churches and almost nothing on worship, those things being supplied in addition to the ordinary allocations. The charitable people of France would see that the Society intends the missionaries to have enough to live upon. I am quite certain that ours is the only mission administered in this manner, with one man keeping everything given for all.

[19]

Moreover, living as we have been forced to live until now, the missionaries will be little more than victims who are made to travel for four or five years before dying, for I do not think they can live any longer; and then what will become of the mission? That much time is needed to learn the language. They will therefore cease to be capable of action at the very moment they could labour fruitfully. You have indeed been told that one could learn to speak this country's language in three or four months, but allow me to tell you that those who spoke in this way are still far from knowing it after five or six years. That is a fact they would not dare deny if they wished to speak sincerely. You will judge for yourself if you consider what can be learned of a European language in three or four months, while the languages [p. 11] of these countries are much more difficult than those of Europe. When a European learns another European language, that foreign language always has much in common with one he knows; moreover, he has good grammars, good dictionaries, and good teachers to explain it. Here the languages have no relation to European languages, and we have neither grammar, dictionary, nor teacher. We must discover the language's principles in ordinary conversation, which one can scarcely begin to understand before a year has passed.

[20]

I scarcely began studying English until London, yet five months later, upon my arrival in New Zealand, I was able to instruct people and exercise the holy ministry. I have now been here eighteen months and have great difficulty doing all that. I therefore conclude this article by saying that if the mission is to be preserved, means must be found to preserve the missionaries. You know that those means exist; it is only necessary to know how to use them. While discussing the administration of the mission and our manner of life, I said that when leaving France I expected us to have some means, given the allocations from the Propagation of the Faith. My confrère replied that he had expected to have none and that he was at least as well off as he had imagined he would be. I told him that his way of thinking came from a lack of reflection, because he had failed to notice the means Providence supplies us. “Yet,” he told me, “my expectation proved correct, while you, who reflected, were mistaken.” “Yes,” I replied, “and that is exactly my point: you proved correct as two errors sometimes coincide.” You understand, my Very Reverend Father, the full force of my thought.

[21]

Until now the administration has, in my opinion, been very defective and consequently very harmful to the mission. My heart has been deeply wounded; allow me to tell you so. I left France full of zeal. I believe I can bear myself that testimony, not because I thought, as many others did, that there was as much good to be done as was said, but I was far from thinking things were going so badly. I arrived at the Bay of Islands on 4 May. His Excellency was not there. Father Épalle was replacing him; he received us as coldly as it is possible to describe. His second remark was: [p. 12] “Are you bringing much money?” When we replied that we had only 17,000 francs, he displayed extraordinary displeasure, withdrew to his room with Father Forest, and said nothing further to the rest of us, priests and brothers. We were exhausted and had not slept for two days. At half past ten, only a brother came to meet us. Our bed was the dining room, where Fathers Forest and Reignier and I slept on planks, although an appointed, empty room stood beside it. A few days later I left for my mission. When I requested some means of subsistence, Father Épalle answered: “We never give any to anyone.” “How, then, shall I conduct the mission?” I asked. “Do not concern yourself with the mission. Try to plant potatoes so you will have something to eat. Let the souls be lost.” Such was his reply. Judge, my Very Reverend Father, how wounded my heart must have been. To come more than six thousand leagues to plant and eat potatoes! I could easily have eaten them in France without planting them and perhaps have accomplished something more. I assure you that I was on the point of asking to return to France, especially after seeing how the funds were absorbed. I told you something about that in another letter. Driven by circumstances, I tried to discuss certain points of administration, but no account was ever taken of my arguments. Missionaries and visitors at the Bay establishment consumed fifty pounds of bread a week at one franc a pound. I showed them that by making it themselves in the house they could save considerably, because it would then cost five sous a pound. They replied that their baker was a Catholic and benefactor of the mission, and that they needed him. “But,” I said, “if the baker is truly a benefactor of the mission, he should be the first to teach you the means I am describing.” This argument counted for nothing, etc. Judge for yourself whether it has any value.

[22]

I shall tell you, my Reverend Father, that the principal motive which led me to ask to come to the tropics was the hope of having another bishop and entering another administration where things would go less badly; I hope I have succeeded. [p. 13] Even so, I think you must take a hand in it and establish general rules so that everyone knows his rights distinctly. Since the experience of all ages teaches us that no one possessing absolute power has ever failed to abuse it, whether by nature or ignorance, I think the bishop's power must be counterbalanced in temporal matters by that of a procurator who does not indiscriminately say amen to everything the bishop says. Procurators must act in concert with the bishop, but I also think it good for a procurator, when necessary and independently of the bishop, to be able to assign the members of the Society and some of the resources allocated to them. I therefore think there should be one procurator general for the whole mission of Oceania and a particular procurator for each mission district. The particular procurator would form the bishop's council and consequently reside with him. The procurator general should be based at Sydney or Valparaiso, but preferably Sydney, the centre of Oceanian commerce. He would certainly incur no expense there; one might even hope he would receive a government stipend. All the fathers could communicate with him and, through him, with the Father General. In addition, and I regard this as of the greatest importance, we need a small vessel for the Central Oceania mission, one that would cost little to operate and appears indispensable for communications.

[23]

Until now people have written to you asking for money, money, and nothing but money. In my opinion, and that of the fathers generally, this demand is the most harmful one possible for the mission. Money means absolutely nothing here; goods are everything. You are told that two habits and two pairs of shoes suffice for a priest leaving for the mission, another proposition extremely ruinous to the mission: ruinous to the mission in New Zealand and ruinous to the missionaries in the tropics. In New Zealand things can be bought, but at six times the price in France; in the tropics nothing can be found, and one is obliged to go naked. I left France two and a half years ago with four pairs of shoes and three cassocks, and for a long time I have had nothing left. The arriving ship brings me not so much as a pin. To whom can I complain? I learned from a Sydney newspaper that a shipment from France arrived in January 1843. I expect it brought something for me. Since then three ships have come here from the Bay of Islands, but [p. 14] they brought me nothing, and certainly I shall receive none of that shipment. When will I now receive anything? You see how the administration is conducted. Two pairs of shoes suffice? Ask those who speak to you in that way how long one pair lasts on our islands. If they wish to be sincere, they will be forced to answer that a pair can sometimes be worn out in two or three days. How, then, are missionaries to manage when they go two or three years without receiving anything?

[24]

Money... nothing but money! Truly, why this language? What will they do with 130,000 francs allocated to the New Zealand mission alone and delivered freight-free with the missionaries aboard a government vessel? Will they always spend the entire sum at a single establishment that does not have thirty Christians? To consume that sum, will they continue borrowing at twenty-two and a half percent to buy land that yields nothing? Will they always buy their necessities at six times the price for which they could obtain them: one franc for a pound of bread, twenty francs for a bad pair of shoes, seventy-two francs to make a cassock? Will they always feed outsiders?

[25]

Our mission district has certainly received little by comparison with what is ordinarily given to others. Yet after bringing a fairly substantial quantity of provisions with all costs paid, the Bishop of Amata arrived with 59,000 francs. Truly, if that sum had been converted into goods purchased in France - for money is useless here - we would have enough to buy more goods than exist in the entire archipelago. The missionaries' condition can therefore easily be improved. It is for you to decide whether it should be; for my part, I think it a necessity. This people is filled with pride beyond anything that can be described. Here the inhabitants, speaking of Europeans, say “my white” as one might say in Europe “my Negro, my slave.” I therefore believe that, even for this people's benefit, we cannot tolerate this treatment of ourselves. To place ourselves in a position to do them good, we must wisely make them feel our superiority and independence, showing that we do not need them and that they cannot do without us. For this purpose we must be lodged in our own house, in a position respectable according to the country and one from which we cannot be driven at will. We must have an enclosure, a farmyard, a few pieces of land to cultivate, and some European and other plants, and consequently [p. 15] teach the inhabitants to cultivate. We must even create needs for them that they can meet only by working and submitting to us. One means I consider useful is to teach them agriculture and to teach them to house, clothe, and feed themselves decently. To reduce their pride somewhat, I would have us lend them, rather than give everyone as we now do, all the tools necessary for their work, without surrendering ownership. This is how God acts toward all people. He distributes His gifts abundantly, but always reserves dominion over them and sometimes withdraws them when we are too unfaithful, to teach us that we depend entirely upon Him. Why should we not follow the same course for God's glory and the salvation of souls?

[26]

I have been told that I know how to say only one thing: that the inhabitants must be taught agriculture. I believe I know how to say something else, but I continue sincerely to believe that agriculture is the foundation of their spiritual and temporal happiness, and that without it we shall never make true men of them, still less good Christians. This means alone would draw them out of the shameful idleness that is the mother of every vice. Without making them wealthy, I would make them comfortably situated workers, because I have observed that the best Christians are found neither in the upper class nor among the destitute, but in the comfortably situated class: in medio stat virtus. Remember what I have already told you about this in another letter. Truly, it is not right for a poor country like Europe to continue supplying the means of life to a rich country like ours. I call Europe poor when considering its soil alone and apart from industry, for I estimate that the soil here is six times as fertile as Europe's. I am therefore astonished to see missions founded more than fifty years ago in countries richer than ours whose missionaries still continually ask France for money. This is undoubtedly because they did not employ the true means: teaching their peoples to draw abundant resources from their own lands. In short, it is not fitting that Europeans, who are obliged to work day and night to live, should impose further privations upon themselves to feed people who would be unhappy only because they refuse to work two hours a day. [p. 16] Instead, they must be taught to work. This is one of the missionary's tasks, because one day the inhabitants must not only support themselves but also provide for the missionaries' subsistence. Otherwise we must expect sooner or later to see the mission collapse and the peoples in some places return to barbarism. We must labour to form workers, for soil that always imported its plants from afar and never produced seed would eventually become sterile.

[27]

I think a letter from you addressed to all missionaries concerning the care that must be taken of the brothers would be very useful, because at times they have been treated somewhat too harshly. These words, whose full meaning you will understand, have pierced me to the heart: “They are only brothers.” Truly, if some have suffered shipwreck, some fathers may place a hand upon their conscience and say: “I drove them into the waves.”

[28]

Concerning the clothing missionaries need, you have been told that woollen cassocks are quite suitable because the country is neither hot nor cold, but you received these instructions only from New Zealand. What a difference there is between New Zealand and the tropics! If at Condrieu and Chalmazelle, which are in the same diocese, people need different clothing, how much more so at Copenhagen and Constantinople! That is at least the difference between New Zealand and the countries we inhabit, and those were the observations I made to the procurator before leaving. Oh, if the man responsible for our supplies could make just one of the journeys we are obliged to make so frequently, that argument would be stronger than all my reasoning, and we would soon be clothed suitably for the climate!

[29]

When a brother is sent from France, people imagine that he will be a catechist, teach the inhabitants agriculture and weaving, treat the sick, and so on. But what man in France would be capable of doing all that? Imagine in France a brother who had to serve two priests in every respect; prepare their food; mend their clothing; wash their bed linen and the sacristy linen; cultivate a small garden; treat all the sick in a large parish; and shave everyone. Should he be required to do still more? Certainly not; it could not reasonably be required. Well, crossing the ocean does not make us different men. We have the same needs here as in France, only we are infinitely weaker. [p. 17] Yes, for the mission to proceed well, the inhabitants must be taught some crafts. But this requires other means. First, each father must have a brother with him; then every island must have one additional brother to teach something to the inhabitants. Each establishment must have a boat to transport missionaries more easily from one place to another. The missionaries must have some European food to sustain them.

[30]

When I say that the Protestant missions are so well managed in temporal matters, I am told that they have more means than we do. That is inaccurate, for I know the allowance received by each missionary and his wife. It does not exceed 4,000 francs in all for both of them, and you know well that the Propagation of the Faith allocates us much more each year. For the eleven priests in our district, from allocations and particular gifts, we received more than 12,000 francs delivered to their destination without charge, amounting to 10,000 francs or more for each one. If after this we lack absolutely everything and the mission consequently suffers, does it not appear to be the administration's fault? I cannot see the matter otherwise.

[31]

We shall be told to be patient and rely only upon God's help. But I say, first, that it is hardly becoming to speak in that way when one spends hundreds of thousands of francs every year and consequently lacks nothing; and second, that Providence supplies us with human means. We must not rely upon human means alone, but our mission is entirely different from that of the apostles. What little good has been accomplished here was accomplished only through human means. Wallis, now converted, was considering how to send the missionaries away when the bishop's ship and a war corvette arrived simultaneously with resources. People no longer wished to listen to us when Monsieur Laferrière, commander of the Bucéphale, came with the Bishop of Amata to strengthen us. It was the same at Futuna, and you know or will soon know how the New Zealand mission is proceeding without those human means. When our peoples have been converted, matters will undoubtedly go well; but to reach that point we must employ the means available to us. I would never finish if I attempted to describe in detail everything we need for the mission to prosper. Your wisdom and reflection will bring these things to mind, and a separate list will show you some of them.

[32]

I cannot finish without telling you that it is absolutely necessary for every [p. 18] father to have a brother with him. You call the brothers catechists, but they certainly will never fulfil that function. It is therefore neither necessary nor even useful for them to know Latin or French. It is enough that they possess some natural intelligence and be humble, genuinely pious, patient, and obedient. A man skilled in certain crafts would generally be more to be feared than desired here. Before their departure, they should be given some instruction in laundering, linen care, the preparation of tobacco, and various things indispensable to a household.

[33]

If you think a letter such as this is inappropriate, I most humbly ask your pardon and beg you to tell me so in future. I shall close my eyes to everything and remain silent.

[34]

In the enclosed letter to my friends you will read these words: “Among the peoples we evangelize, some listen to us and put our teaching into practice; others listen to us and refuse to do anything; the greater number refuse to hear us. People are the same everywhere: ice toward truth and fire for falsehood.” I earnestly beg you to allow this truth to be read. It is certainly the least unfavourable thing that can be said while remaining truthful. These are undoubtedly not islands stretching out their arms to us; but the islands stretching out their arms to us are figures of speech as beautiful as they are far removed from the truth. Or, if one wished the statement to be true, one would have to add that they stretch out their arms to push us away.

[35]

In his instructions His Excellency tells us always to speak favourably about the mission in order to encourage ever more vocations. That is indeed my opinion, but I do not at all think that for this reason one must say things as evidently false as those that have been said, which sooner or later will become known and may cover us with shame. I think that to create genuine interest in the mission, it must be portrayed from the beginning more or less as it is, with its difficulties and advantages, although painting the latter somewhat more favourably; by this means there will always be something interesting to relate. But we must not proceed as was done at first, displaying advantages that never existed and could not have existed, especially in New Zealand, where more fruits were shown after three years than can actually be obtained in fifteen, even supposing the mission succeeded as well as possible. His Excellency had announced 72,000 converts in New Zealand, although the whole of New Zealand does not have that population; 15,000 were claimed from a single tour, yet when he is asked for the result of the entire mission he cannot find 15,000. Father Baty and I made the calculation. He told me: “Father, what am I to do? His Excellency tells me to put down 15,000, and I am quite sure there are not 5,000.” “You will do as you wish,” I told him. “I would not obey.” [p. 19] And he wrote 15,000. Judge, then, how frankly your children give you the truth. Experience teaches us not to hurry to count our peoples among the faithful. The last time I wrote, I told you that if we wished to use the arithmetic used by some, we could count more than 2,000 persons as being on our side. Had I announced such a wonder to you, I would be obliged to tell you today that this great number has been reduced to two or three hundred.

[36]

Nevertheless, we can bear ourselves this testimony: we have not spared ourselves, but the people seem to draw away from us in proportion as we increase our zeal. The goodness and generosity of this people are praised to you; here is an example. The Bishop of Amata left us a little money when he passed through. An English ship anchored in our roadstead, and we had an opportunity to purchase some goods, which we distributed to the inhabitants. At the prices for which they are sold in the country, all the goods we gave them were worth 1,700 chickens, without counting the medicines of every kind that we administer to them daily; not one person brought us a single chicken. They believe they render us a great service by giving us a few pieces of yam.

[37]

Note. An objection is made that foodstuffs brought from Europe would cost too much. I reply first that price must not be considered if they are necessary to the mission and funds are available. Second, I say that some things brought from France will cost scarcely more than in France itself, while others will be much cheaper here. One evident fact is that, for the mission to survive, a ship must visit us at least once a year. Since this is so, transporting a few goods costs little. As a hot country, we need wine capable of keeping. We require ordinary Bordeaux wine, which six thousand leagues away will cost us less here than it would cost when transported fifty leagues inland in France. What I say of wine I could also say of sugar, which would pay no duty, and of salt, etc., etc. I do not say anything in this letter for my own sake, for my health is exhausted, my stomach is ruined, and my voice nearly extinguished. I can no longer hope to recover and consequently cannot hope to enjoy the funds of which I speak.

[38]

One more word. Does it not seem strange that, with sums as considerable as those allocated to us, we find ourselves in such poverty that we lack necessities? Truly, what would the administrators of the Propagation of the Faith think if they learned this? In the last shipment, purchases worth 55,000 francs were made, yet we at Tonga, who make up one quarter of the mission's personnel, received less than 600 francs' worth of goods, and even those articles are almost useless to us. There was not a pin for me. Fortunately, the brother who is the same size as I am gave me a pair of his shoes. His Excellency came [p. 20] less to relieve us than to bring gifts to the inhabitants, who were not very grateful, not to say discourteous, toward him. He intended to place priests among different tribes on the island, and they flatly refused them. I think people will no longer write to you that the islands stretch out their arms to us. God grant that he is not treated even worse in Fiji than at Tonga.

[39]

Judge the generosity of the inhabitants. Curiosities that would give great pleasure in Europe can be obtained here for trifles. With all the goods we gave them, we could have bought enough to load a schooner, yet we did not receive the slightest thing in return. I nevertheless wished to send some of these objects to the friends who have given, and continue to give, me presents, but I was entirely unable to do so. It is one more mortification for me. The more I consider matters, the more I see the necessity of what I told you in a previous letter: namely, that we should have a procurator and a ship that would come from France to visit us.

[40]

I assure you that I wrote this letter calmly and for the sole purpose of making known to you the state of the mission and of your children, of whom I am the least of all, although I hope I am not the least faithful. I finish by asking for your blessing. I state only facts. My health has improved somewhat, but I am still very weak.

I have the honour to be,

my Very Reverend Father,

your most humble and most

respectful child,

Grange

apostolic missionary, priest of

the Society of Mary

Tonga, 25 July 1844

[41]

[On a slip of paper pasted to p. 1] I have learned that His Excellency entered 6,000 Catholics in his budget. Here is the number, accurate to within twenty persons: Wallis, 2,300; Futuna, 1,050 - the Father from Futuna gives this very exact figure, and all are baptized; Tonga, 130 baptized and 200 catechumens. Consequently, it is quite possible that in two or three years we will still not actually have the number already announced.