Girard0253

28 April 1843 — Father Antoine Séon to Father Jean-Claude Colin, Matamata

Summary

Grateful for the visit of Father Forest. His greatest hardship is being on his own. Nearest confrère is a day and a half walk away, through swamps and forests (Father Pèzant). Is having trouble learning to speak Maori. Distances are long – estimates 40 leagues (200 km) from one end to the other of his territory. Hostility of Protestant Maori a problem. Misrepresentation of Catholic beliefs - “Nebuchadnezzar and his statue were Catholics” (!)

Has problems with the catechetical texts recently printed for the mission - they are not fitted to their intelligence and taste.

In a post-script he asks for prayers for his people - suicides, marital breakups – infanticide, theft – are all problems among them.

Translation

Based on the document sent APM Z 208.

Translation by ChatGPT

Two sheets folded forming eight pages of which six are written upon, the seventh is blank and the eight has the address and the annotation by Poupinel.

[p. 8] [Address] 

To Reverend Father Superior G(eneral) of the Society of Mary, Lyon

[Postmarks] 

COLONIES [--] ART 12 — PAID SHIP LETTE[R]

— B 22 AP 22 1844 — ANGL 24 [---] 44 — PARIS 24

AVRIL 44 ([-]0) — LYON 26 AV[RIL] 1844 (68)

[In Poupinel’s handwriting]

28 April 1843, N(ew) Zealand ¤ Fr Séon

New Zealand, Matamata, April 28, 1843.

My Most Reverend Father Superior,

[1]

I begin my letter at 9 o'clock in the evening, by the light of my poor little lamp, driven as much by shame as by regret for not having written to you since my arrival in New Zealand. My first words are to express my gratitude to you, Reverend Father, for the visit made to us by Reverend Father Forest. It was as enjoyable as it was useful. On January 8th, Father Pesant and I began an eight-day retreat, which I greatly needed. After sixteen months of travel, one truly requires to be reinvigorated in the virtues of one's calling. We successfully completed these holy exercises, and I returned to my post, where I rest from the journey that followed my retreat, ready to depart again soon.

[2]

Since the full moon, the winter rains have started. I will find the numerous swamps I left dry now full once more. Thankfully, I am getting accustomed to this type of fatigue that wears on the body. Until now, I have not experienced significant discomfort.

[3]

The greatest deprivation I feel is being alone. Providence allowed it through a special arrangement. The Bishop was sending me to Akaroa to work in company with Father Comte, but rivalries between enemy tribes forced him to establish a station that he had not yet considered, and I was chosen to stay there. I was given a French sailor to cook for me, a good-natured but inconsistent fellow, who left me after seven months. For thirteen months now, I have been managing my household as well as I can with a natural disposition. The Bishop is awaiting a new group of evangelical workers to send me a brother, but I have already had the honour of expressing to His Grace that it is only a small part of what I lack; that the essential thing is a priest, a companion with whom one can encourage, consult, and confess without having to ordinarily undertake a day and a half's journey through swamps and woods to reach my nearest neighbour, Father Pesant. Blessed, even still, is this proximity that I cannot keep, because from here I am two days away from the heart of my station. This was the only fear that I expressed to you upon my departure; I had somewhat relied on the hopes you gave me then, but the good Lord deceived both of us; He wanted to show me that I had many other things to fear.

[4]

The good Lord, you and I, we all knew of my lack of expertise, but I knew of it the least; the good Lord wished to instruct me. I am still clumsy, and my station languishes. However, I am beginning to speak a bit of Māori; it is not without difficulty. It is an original language; it has driven out the little English I knew from my brain.

[5]

The journeys are long: I count nearly forty places from one end of my station to the last tribes; and others even farther away ask me to go among them. I cannot give you an exact number of parishioners, maybe a thousand or fifteen hundred. During these trips, I travel for one or two days without encountering a single habitation. The natives themselves are divided into small, distant families, one day's journey or half a day's journey apart, along paths interrupted by swamps, rivers, forests, and mountains; that's my share. Father Pesant has the sea that troubles him; the Rotorua station, the lakes; and the Opotiki station, where Fathers Comte and Reignier are located, has rivers that must be crossed fifteen to twenty times. Add to this the war against the Anglican and Wesleyan heretics who divide the people of my station. In many kainga (habitations), they have more or fewer of their disciples with whom we must contend; we are a thorn in their side (though these sinister ideas are beginning to fade); we must prove to them that their church only dates back to Luther, to Henry VIII, even to a century; that the cruel emperors of Rome were not of the Roman Church, that Nebuchadnezzar and his statue were not Catholics; a thousand other more or less slanderous charges against the Catholic Church must be refuted.

[6]

In terms of morals, I find more dangers now than I did at the beginning. Eyes accustomed to European things become familiar with the objects that are constantly before them, and women with more regular features than others eventually make some impression. Nonetheless, the female sex here is the most unfortunate part of nature in terms of physical and moral aspects, causing the most trouble and the least satisfaction; exceptions are encountered, however. The obscene remarks, which clerical celibacy provoked from these people entirely foreign to this virtue, have somewhat decreased, but otherwise without inspiring aversion. One must be reserved, and once confessions are established, we will have here some of the dangers found in Europe. The nudity of women up to the waist, nudity that is being reduced as much as possible, makes little impression.

[7]

You are aware, my Reverend Father, of what concerns the mission's funds. One thing troubles us, and that is that we have to contend with the Bishop over the books intended for the education of the Māori. We find them not suited to their intelligence, to their taste. We would like clear catechisms, with clear and concise questions and answers, books that engage our disciples. The Māori Protestants have the New Testament, a part of the Old, and these stories captivate them; they are indoctrinated during this time, and it is very difficult to reason with them afterwards, to dispel their prejudices: however, God is stronger than the devil. This is one of our subjects of sorrow, of scruples. Perhaps it will soon cease. The Bishop will undoubtedly consider our observations. But there is work to be done here; let that not be hidden from those who wish to come find us.

[8]

I have not yet written in Europe; however, I have received letters from Fathers Lagniet, Bourdin, Aymard, etc., one from a relative and from Father Maîtrepierre, which contained a few lines from your hand. I am very grateful for this, my Reverend Father, it is a balm that soothes fatigue and dispels troubles, if any arise. I hope to respond soon to the fathers who were kind enough to write to me. These letters were handed to me on July 8th. I read them in the company of Father Borjon along the monotonous shore of the ocean; they pleasantly occupied both of us for six hours of walking. This good father has perhaps gone to receive in heaven the reward for his virtues. For a long time, there has been no news of the Speculator that was carrying him to Port Nicholson with Brother Déodat.

[9]

You are about to begin the beautiful month of May. Please, my Reverend Father, offer a part of it for me and the flock entrusted to my care. Here, the month of May marks the beginning of winter, and up to this day, the hearts of my brave natives are in certain places at the level of the thermometer. May the Holy Spirit descend upon them and upon me, as I am in great need.

[10]

Please accept, my Reverend Father, my feelings of gratitude for all the kindness you have shown me in the past: I now fully appreciate its value. I also try to remind myself of it in times of need; but often, reflection only comes after the damage is done. ...I have made many blunders in my life and will likely make more; please, if you would, pray that their number diminishes as much as possible.

[11]

I remain, with the deepest respect,

my Reverend Father Superior,

your devoted and

obedient son in Jesus and

Mary,

A(ntoine) Séon,

(priest) m(issionary)

(My letter is poorly written, my pocketknife was stolen during my journey.) Please turn, if you please.

[12]

I ask you, my Reverend Father, for some prayers for my flock. In one part of my station, eleven women committed suicide last year, most of them out of jealousy. In my last journey, the wife of a prominent chief jumped from a tree on the very day I arrived among them, upon learning of the indiscretions of a secret wife of her husband. Being a prominent chief herself, she wants to be the only woman for her husband, and the husband, who cannot save the life of any of the children he had with his wife, has just hanged himself. Fortunately, God did not allow him to take his own life completely. I know a man from my station who has lost wives and children; he is waiting for the death of his last son to take his own life. His neighbour, during my last journey, murdered one of his wives following a rather trivial dispute. I also believe that infanticide is not rare. However, I have only come across one instance where a woman, giving birth to two girls while on the road, buried one of them on the spot. Promiscuity is quite prevalent in certain places; theft is widespread; there are few journeys where something is not lost in this manner, especially tobacco. Whether outside or at my residence, I have been stolen from at least ten times. I must add, however, that my diary, having been recognized as a stolen item in the possession of a Māori, his chiefs flogged him and one of them travelled 18 leagues to return it to me. After two months of deprivation, I was glad to find what I thought was lost forever and to especially conceive some hope of spiritual profit among this poor people.

Notes

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