Girard0262

27 June 1843 - Father Chevron to Father Colin, Tonga

Summary

Complains about the quality of supplies sent from the mission procure in NZ: corks in wine bottles had already been pierced - ship’s biscuits inedible, rice and flour, and soap unusable.

For lack of flour to make hosts the missionaries are about to stop saying Mass. The poor quality of their diet is threatening their health, particularly that of Father Grange.

The irregularity and infrequency of visits – ships coming from the outside world – is a big problem. The Tongans see the missionaries as employees of the mission rather than collaborators – so they say they will leave their decisions about converting until the Bishop’s arrival.

The missionaries find the Tongans fickle- “for some tobacco, a knife, an axe... all would convert”.

The Brother”(!) is not happy about the inequality between the prayers offered for a deceased priest and a deceased Brother.

Translation by Merv Duffy, February 2025.

Leaf, "Bath" paper, forming four written pages. In the register of letters, ED 1, it bore the number 132.

Text of the Letter

[p. 4]

[Address]

Monsieur Colin, Superior of the Marists, Montée Saint Barthélemy, Lyon, France

[In Poupinel’s handwriting]

Tonga, June 27, 1843, Reverend Father Chevron.

[p. 1]

Jesus, Mary, Joseph

Tonga, South Sea, June 27, 1843.

Mission of the Visitation.

My Most Reverend Father,

[1]

I am truly very sorry to write to you in such haste; it is already quite late, and the messenger must take our letters tomorrow morning to the schooner of the Protestant mission. Add to this that the occasion does not seem the most secure; but, not knowing when we might be visited again, I am taking advantage of it just in case. You will see from the letter I wrote to my parents where our mission stands more or less. I will only add a few observations.

Father Grange has suffered greatly since his arrival. Without wishing to blame the administration of the procurement house in any way, I feel obliged to tell you that they seem to rely too much on Providence, as well as on people whom they should naturally be wary of. They send us wine here with corks already used and pierced through; and so loosely fitted that not one would have held if the bottles had not been kept constantly upright. Father Grange and Brother Attale, both experts, believe that without particular assistance from heaven, not a single bottle should still be good. They do not even inspect the few provisions they send us. It is a bit of biscuit or rather (without exaggeration) the sweepings from a ship’s hold. I could say the same for a few pounds of rice. We have tried several times to eat it; we became ill, and even the pigs would not touch it; we buried it. The soap we were sent was absolutely useless. The flour was completely spoiled.

For some time now, we have been saying Mass with hosts that smell bad; we have judged them to still be good, but this will not last long, and we are on the verge of having to cease the Holy Sacrifice for lack of flour. Yet it is truly harsh in these lands to be deprived of saying Holy Mass, the only consolation of a missionary.

[2]

It is too painful to complain; what I have just told you is more than enough to put my conscience at peace.

[3]

I believe I told you that Father Grange has suffered greatly from the local food, to which his stomach could not adapt; as a result, I have been almost constantly obliged to make my journeys alone with a few natives. It was decided to rely on Providence and the friendship of the natives for food; Providence has not failed us, for we are still alive, but we must admit that we have suffered greatly. I was of this opinion too, but what I have seen Father endure due to this approach, the state in which I have seen him and felt myself, has led me to believe that while this may be a way to gain the friendship and trust of the natives, it is also a way to kill oneself and become nearly useless.

During the first four or five months that Father was here, we all thought we would not last more than six months or a year; today, things seem to be improving somewhat over the past two months. I believe that with this way of living, one could not reasonably expect to live more than four or five years, and it is only after that time that one can truly be useful to the mission. I have been here for three years and have only learned a few words of the Wallisian language and not much of this one; I think that it will be only in about two years that I will know it well enough to fully understand the natives and to be understood by them in return. No doubt some missionaries will progress more quickly than I, but I believe, without presumption, that I fall within the common range.

Consequently, I think that with the regimen followed so far, a missionary will never be able to accomplish much. We thought we had lost the Brother, I believe again due to these hardships; thanks be to God, he is doing fairly well now.

[4]

One thing that greatly harms the mission is the lack of regularity in visits. The Protestant missionaries are visited regularly; I do not know if it is every six months, but what I do know for certain is that such a visit never takes more than a year. We exhaust ourselves with promises, and the natives eventually lose confidence. I also believe it would be good if we were regarded as something more than just the bishop’s laborers; I think that, in the eyes of religion and the Church, we are something more: we are his collaborators. As a result, the natives say: When the bishop comes, we will settle things with him.

[5]

We do receive some consolations from the natives, but they are often short-lived. One evening, we were gathered at the house, drinking kava. The leaders of the catechumens spoke up and made a thousand beautiful promises, each more impressive than the last. The principal chief gave a speech as eloquent as any rhetorician could have made. And yet the next day, when the Brother refused to comply with an entirely unjust demand from this chief, the man went so far as to threaten to join the Protestants. That is the nature of the natives: for a few figs of tobacco, a knife, a hatchet, or a robe, almost all of them would agree to be baptized. But what kind of neophytes would they be? It is better to have none than to have such as these. However, I believe that those whom we are about to baptize will be steadfast. I think this mission will progress slowly; it has been harmed by the Protestants, but may God be blessed with His Holy Mother. We will strive to fulfil our ministry, leaving the success to God's will.

[6]

The Brother asked me to make a small observation regarding the rule about prayers to be said upon the death of the Fathers and Brothers. According to this rule, the Brother who died last year with Father Borjon receives no prayers, while fifteen Masses are prescribed for each Father and an equal number of communions for each Brother, in honour of someone who, despite all due respect, does not seem to have any strict right to them—being outside the bonds that unite the Fathers and Brothers into a single body of society.

[7]

These observations, my Most Reverend Father, are always made in all charity and obedience. My respects to our dear confrères.

I have the honour to be, with the deepest respect,

My Most Reverend Father,

Your most devoted servant,

Joseph Chevron

[8]

I did not think I was making a mistake in sending these letters to you directly; despite the wording of the regulations, I do not believe that you were meant to be included in the prohibition against writing to France about anything other than matters of pure spiritual direction without first passing through the council of His Lordship the Bishop.

[9]

Everything I have just said should not be taken as complaints; suffering and death are a gain for us. That is our ambition, but the heart suffers when it sees so many souls being lost and so few labourers in the vineyard.

Notes

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