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4 November 1843 – Father Jean Forest to Father Maitrepierre, Bay of Islands

Summary

Gives his impressions of “la Polynesie” (NZ) – mainly unfavourable. Then moves on to “something you don’t already know about”.

Building of a chapel at Kororareka. Gives details of its size and various features. Suggests some strategies that could be used to encourage gifts for “this first Catholic church in New Zealand” from the good people of Lyons.

Maitrepierre had indicated to Forest, apparently, before Forest left for NZ, that he might well follow him. Was he still of the same attitude? Says they need a provincial, and that he could well do the job. He could stand up to the Bishop. Father Tripe could tell him about the situation in NZ. The Protestants are losing ground...

APM Z 208 – Translation based on transcription of the copy sent

Translated by Merv Duffy, April 2025.

Text of the Letter

Address (p. 4)

Monsieur ¤ Monsieur Maîtrepierre ¤ montée Saint-Barthélemi 4 ¤ Lyon, France

[In Poupinel's hand]

Bay of Islands, 4 November 1843 ¤ Father Forest ¤ Letter in which he requests that various objects be supplied for the church in Kororareka.

[p. 1]

Bay of Islands, 4 November 1843

To Reverend Father Maîtrepierre

My Reverend Father,

[1]

After having written a crowd of letters today, I still have a little time before midnight here, and noon with you. Allow me to spend it babbling a little with you. It’s been quite some time since I’ve said anything to you and left you in peace. You’ll no longer be able to complain that I am always asking whether I shall go to Polynesia. I have finally seen it, Polynesia, and I assure you it is not very beautiful. It is a poor country that frightens anyone who sees it for the first time. It is a land cut through with rivers, bays, marshes. It is a land of volcanoes, craters, and who knows what else… You find boiling waters here, so hot that in three or four minutes, potatoes placed in them are far more cooked than if they’d been boiled for an hour over a strong fire. If birds fly too close to these waters, they are stifled by the heat that escapes from underground. You find other waters far less hot — those are where the natives take hot baths. It’s said this land contains a lot of coal, iron mines, copper, sulphur, marble quarries. But generally, you find very little building stone; even the soil itself is hardly good for making houses. But I forget that you have near you someone who has told you all this far better than I could express it.

[2]

Let’s move on to something you don’t yet know. His Lordship is having a chapel built at the Bay of Islands. It will be 45 feet long, 25 wide, and 18 high, not including the ridge. It will have twelve windows, each eleven feet high, a door of twelve or thirteen feet, and a rose window or oculus of eight to nine feet in diameter. The windows will be arranged like this: four on each side, two in the façade, and two behind the altar. It will have three doors: a main one at the front, and two in the sanctuary, one in each corner behind the altar, opening to two small sacristies on either side of the church. The windows will be coloured. This church, situated above the garden on the ground that was prepared in Father Épalle’s time, will have its façade facing the little town of Kororareka. Above its entrance door, at the rooftop peak, we will place a lovely cross that will say to all these Protestants: “Behold the one you so scorn; she stretches out her arms to you — come, come to her.”

Now, for this chapel or church, we are lacking many things. We need a fine bell, at least 300 pounds — and more would be better. But where to get this bell? They say some are made in Sydney, but they say they’re made of gold. Far too precious for us. I remember seeing some very nice ones in the streets of Lyon while visiting my dear masons, whom I still miss. If you knew of a way to steal or obtain one and send it by ship here, you would be doing an excellent work, even if they say that stealing is wrong.

I also saw in those same streets some very fine Jeames candlesticks. I believe you would be able to find people both skilled and charitable enough to help you pack them up and send a lovely set here. In an extreme emergency, they say all things are common. Based on that ruling, I don’t see what harm there would be in sending them to us. We are truly in a case of extreme necessity.

Then again, those candlesticks — some good ladies in Lyon, if you showed them, would not think it right that they come here bare, and so would provide them a covering. Nor would it do for the bell to come here without first being baptized — at least without first finding a godfather and godmother back in your country, for here in these pagan lands it is not easy to find such sponsors. I think those godparents would do something for their goddaughter, to help her along the way.

I also remember seeing in the windows of certain shops some beautiful carpets for kneelers. What would stop you from choosing a fine one — it could serve as a cloak for the bell during her voyage and then beautifully adorn our sanctuary on feast days and Sundays. I’ve just given you the width of the church, so you can see what would be needed.

Father Girard knows so many good ladies, who only want to do good. Couldn’t he tell them that our church — the first Catholic church in these parts — will have twelve windows, each eleven feet tall, and thus very large and able to let in a great deal of light — in fact, far too much. That doesn’t suit a church. What remedy? These good ladies will guess. They’ll see that there’s too much light, and that a few lovely red curtains would mean much less light. The Maoris love the colour red. It would attract them wonderfully well to services. So many advantages!

Lastly, I remember seeing — and I think even buying — some lovely two-wick lamps. I once had one for our Sunday evening meeting over the gatekeeper’s lodge, in the brothers’ room. A light like that, with glass shades, would be the nec plus ultra. Our natives would describe it from far away. They would come from ten to fifteen leagues to see the great and beautiful kapura^[1] — light or lamp. Another solid reason: here, we only say Vespers after the sun sets, that is, by candlelight. A good lamp like that would save us many candles, which we must burn to light the six or seven people who make up our grand assembly. But we hope that once the church is built, we’ll have more people. Besides, by stammering through English, I’ll speak it — but with strength and courage, I hope — to all these drunkards of Kororareka. But to light my whole large audience, a fine lamp would be perfect.

The essential thing now is to find one. To ship it, Brother Luc, who is very obliging, will surely take charge of it. So it’s settled: between you and Father Girard, you’ll find this much-desired lamp. The English are all heretics; they have no religion, and they don’t know how to make those lovely little lamps you place before the Blessed Sacrament. But in France — especially Lyon, so full of devotion — you see such beautiful ones, so lovely, that they catch the eye.

Father Épalle did once receive one, but it was pakarou^[2] — broken. What to do now? Madame Finton, who gave it, is no longer in Kororareka. How to get another? I believe and am certain Father Épalle will find another lady in Lyon just as charitable as Madame Finton, now in Valparaiso. So the lamp will be Father Épalle’s task.

Father Chartignier, my old and beloved companion in mission — especially in Tarentaise, where we were so brilliant — couldn’t he also do a few of these kinds of errands for me? Couldn’t this good and charitable father explain to some good communities the ridiculousness or nakedness of our altar, and the good sisters, who so love decency, would rush to cover and decorate it as best they can? He wouldn’t even need to explain what to do. So, Father Chartignier, this task will be very easy. I count on… isn’t it true?

Then good Father Poupinel, gathering it all, will send it to us in a well-sealed crate, with my name on it, to say: this is not for the procure.

[3]

What could Father Sylvidre^[3] do for me? He’s full of goodwill, and it’s truly a pity not to make use of it. But what could I give him to do? It occurs to me he knows many — and very wealthy — ladies in Lyon and elsewhere. If Father Sylvidre said a word to them about the necessity of working out their salvation, and pointed them to the means of doing so by supporting the beauty of worship in foreign missions, showing them how a fine vestment on a feast day dazzles the eyes of savages who are used only to cloaks of korari,^[4] I think he would succeed wonderfully. I’m sure he’d find several of these fine and splendid vestments for our great feast days.

[4]

Finally, my Reverend Father, when I left France, you told me you would probably soon follow us to this country. Would we be lucky enough to see this prophecy fulfilled? We need a good Provincial. You would make a very great one if it were God’s will. You would overawe His Lordship, who already fears you a little since you wrote him a certain rather pointed letter — which, by the way, did no harm. Father Tripe, who took fright here and left, will tell you all that might interest you about the mission. He’ll tell you that the Protestants are currently waging a terrible war against us. They want absolutely to seize the sheep who left them to follow Jesus Christ and His true Church. This Protestant party loses ground every day, and that’s what makes them so enraged… enraged…

[5]

Please give my respects to Reverend Father Colin, director, to Rev. Fathers Cholleton, Terraillon, Girard, Chartignier, Sylvidre, to the good gentlemen of Fourvière — Puillet,^[5] Rubenbuert,^[6] attached to the chapel of Fourvière… to our dear brothers… I ask Brother Luc not to forget to send me something for my coltain^[7] — especially lots of soft paper.

[6]

I commend myself earnestly to the prayers of those dear and venerable confrères and brothers, and I ask you to accept the respectful homage of one who has the great honour to be,

Your very humble servant,

Forest,

Apostolic Missionary

Notes

1. ↑ Māori word, kāpura = fire.
2. ↑ Māori word, pakaru = broken, torn, shattered.
3. ↑ Joseph-Marie-Maximin Sylvidre, priest, Marist novice, later left without taking vows.
4. ↑ Māori word, kōrari = flax, flax stalk.
5. ↑ Jean Puillet, rector of Fourvière, 1836–1863 (see Chatelus, p. 413).
6. ↑ Abbé Martin Rubenbauer (see doc. 205, § 11, n. 11).
7. ↑ Read: coltin (a head covering extended by a piece of leather protecting the neck and shoulders)