Girard0321

26 February and approximately 26 July 1844 - Father Jérôme Grange to Father Nicoud, parish priest at Saint-Clair near Condrieu, Rhône; Father Villerd, teacher at Saint-Jodard near Roanne, Loire; Father Fond at Les Chartreux, Lyon; and Father Duplay, superior of the major seminary of Lyon, Tonga

Based on the original, APM OC 208 (Tonga), Grange.

Six sheets of “Bath” paper, comprising twenty-four pages, twenty-three of which are written; the twenty-fourth bears only Poupinel's annotation. This letter, begun on 26 February 1844, must have been completed around 26 July of the same year, when the Adolphe called at Tonga (cf. § 40 below and doc. 322, § 31).

Translated by Merv Duffy and ChatGPT, August 2026.

[p. 24]

[In Poupinel's hand:] Tonga, 24 February 1844 - Father Grange

Tonga-Tabou, 26 February 1844

[1]

Aqua frigida animae sitienti, et nuntius bonus de terra longinqua (Proverbs 25:25). Dear friends, these words should not be understood as applying from me to you, but from you to me. Indeed, what can I tell you that would be pleasing, that would be to you what good, fresh, pure water is to a man parched by long thirst? I should be very pleased that you are willing to take the trouble to read my letters, which contain nothing interesting except what your kind hearts and friendship for me are willing to find in them. But as for me, six thousand leagues from you and long deprived of your presence, your gentle conversation, and your good examples, which were a pleasant and nourishing drink to me, your letters will truly be good news coming from far away and will produce upon my thirsty heart the effect that fresh, pure water produces upon a man oppressed by long thirst. It will soon be three years since I left you when I left France, and since then I have received no news from Europe. I am quite sure that you have written to me, but your courier has been unfaithful; perhaps the deceitful sea retained your letters solely for the pleasure of depriving me of them, for it has no use for them. I think my courier has been more faithful than yours and that you have already received three of my letters. But do not tire of writing to me. Please entrust to the sea as many letters as you can. Your courier will not always be deceitful, nor the sea always cruel. One day some kindly waves will cast several upon the shore, and I shall gather them with pleasure and gratitude. [p. 2]

[2]

You may ask what occupies me in the country of your antipodes. Well, dear friends, I do here what you do in France, only I do it less well than you. I instruct myself and others. I teach people the purpose for which they are on earth; I teach them to abandon falsehood and turn toward truth. Some listen to me without wishing to change, while the greater number will not even listen. The sun takes only twelve hours to visit the two most opposite points of the globe, and everywhere it finds people with the same character and inclinations: ice toward truth and fire for falsehood. I recite my breviary and try to pray as you do, only I do so at different hours. As you teach, pray, and say Holy Mass while I sleep, I teach, pray, and say Holy Mass while you rest. If I did all this well, we would literally fulfil the Psalmist's words: dies diei eructat verbum, et nox nocti indicat scientiam. We would form two choirs singing the glory of God alternately, and the Lord would be praised at all times as in all places. If it is not so, the fault is mine alone.

[3]

How many things I would have to tell you! But I have neither the time nor the strength to tell everything, and you undoubtedly would not have the courage to hear it all. I shall therefore give only an abridgement of my journal. In my other letters I spoke to you about our island and the character of its inhabitants. In this one I shall speak only about our mission, its [p. 3] progress, and its obstacles.

[4]

Since the last letter I addressed to you on 2 July 1843, we have endured many hardships, but God delivered us from them, delivers us, and will deliver us, as we hope from His goodness; the prayers you offer for us undoubtedly contribute greatly as well (2 Corinthians 1:10). Illness came; the Protestants redoubled their slanderous efforts against us; and the inhabitants appeared to abandon us. But God enabled us to triumph advantageously, and the consolations He lavished upon us far exceeded our hardships. It is not surprising that the Protestants make renewed efforts. Every day they see their influence diminish and ours increase in proportion. They see that all their co-religionists who can communicate with us eventually come over to our side. The same is not true of ours who live among them; they remain firm. Apart from grace, the reason is that they freely embrace our holy religion, whereas those of the Protestants were made to convert by force. Among those who came from Wallis, only one, living in the large Protestant tribe, had declared himself Protestant after every kind of solicitation; but this apostasy served only to display the heretics' error openly. When the holy day of Easter came, seeing his Catholic companions receive Communion while he himself was deprived of it, he came weeping to ask our pardon and the grace of being admitted to the Communion of the Church. He also asked pardon from his Catholic co-religionists, saying that violence had been done to him.

[5]

This still-new people is especially moved by the beauty of our ceremonies; and what a difference there is between receiving a piece of banana or breadfruit at Easter [p. 4] and receiving the sacred Body of Our Lord Jesus Christ! A few days after the baptism, we arranged the First Communion of fifteen people. We gave it as much solemnity as possible, as we had done for the baptism, and at both ceremonies we had a great number of faithful, pagans, and heretics, all of whom were amazed.

[6]

Confession, which at first appears so difficult, has been embraced with joy on our island. Indeed, what appears more difficult than bringing proud, sensual people to throw themselves at another person's feet and say, “My Father, bless me, for I am guilty”? But what appears impossible to man is easy for God. The Protestants undoubtedly contributed to this, because they require their followers to make public confession and penance. Our islanders found a great difference between confession established by Jesus Christ as a sacrament and protected by the most inviolable secrecy, and confession established by human will for the sinner's shame. The inhabitants' ancient custom also contributed, for even before Europeans arrived they had a kind of confession, especially during illness. In their minds, if someone is struck by a serious illness, it is always because he offended some divinity who is taking revenge upon the offender; if the sick person is too weak to accuse himself, another who knows his life makes the confession for him. Might this be some remnant of Catholicism received from their Asian ancestors, from whom they probably descended?

[7]

You have won one of the greatest victories that can be won in this country. The people we must evangelize possess pride equal to their poverty and misery. They regard Europeans more or less as people in Europe regard [p. 5] Negroes and slaves. It is undoubtedly wrong for Europeans to despise people who are their brothers and, like them, redeemed by the blood of Jesus Christ; but Europeans at least have some reasons for acting in that way. Their knowledge is far superior to that of slaves and Negroes. Yet it is great folly among our peoples, who are infinitely inferior to us in every respect.

[8]

One of the principal chiefs, the first to receive us on his lands, had long been harassing us and wished to direct us even in religious matters. It was, he said, his religion, not the religion brought by the two old men. We had always resisted him, but mildly, fearing a general rupture. Finally, on the occasion of a great feast, this chief issued an order forbidding baptized persons to dance and ordering those who were not baptized to dance under penalty of a severe fine. This order was destructive of our mission because, from our arrival on the island, we had said that dancing was permitted. If we then forbade it to the baptized, our adversaries were present to make us appear liars, saying that our religion's course was to proceed little by little and finally reduce people to slavery. We therefore wished to maintain literally what we had said at first. We allowed freedom in this matter. We do not want anyone to be ordered in the name of religion either to dance or not to dance. We therefore believed ourselves obliged to tell him that his order was unjust. He flew into a rage before everyone and said: “What business is it of these two white men, these two white men cast by the waves upon our lands? With whom do these two white men live? Is it not with me?” Then, in everyone's presence, we told him: “Yes, these two white men are lodged with you; that is true, and they thank you for it. But [p. 6] know that these two white men are not here to do your will or obey you in anything. They are here to show you the path of truth, as well as all peoples willing to listen to them. They are lodged with you, but if you are dissatisfied, you need only say so; they will find lodging elsewhere. All the land does not end at your domain. Several chiefs here will give them a place to live. You may command other white men, but not those whom God sends. We shall fulfil our mission independently of your will, and even if no one is willing to receive us, we shall have fulfilled our mission. As we have told you several times, we shall depart with the blessings we came to bring you, leaving only curses for you.” We had more or less reduced him to being unable to do without us.

[9]

At the word “curses” he lowered his head and maintained a profound silence. He was a catechumen. At that moment we separated from him. Several people accompanied us to our dwelling, begging us to forgive him. It was, they told us, an unexpected moment of anger that would soon pass. Four hours elapsed until nightfall. He then sent one of his children to ask whether we were willing and able to give him an audience. We replied that he could come, for we never hated anyone. He immediately came, accompanied by one of the wisest old men, who had just made his First Communion, and carrying a large kava root. Reaching the door of our hut, he sat down without daring to enter. When we told him not to fear and that he could enter, he threw himself at our feet, bathed in tears, asking our pardon and kissing our hands; then he kept a long silence with his head lowered. After we told him several [p. 6] times that we sincerely forgave him, he said: “Pardon, and a thousand times pardon, for the offensive words I said to you. My house is yours, and I am too happy that you are willing to remain there. I ask you as a great favour never to leave it and to pray to the good God to make me better. Our ancestors were wicked, and we too are wicked. Forgive us, you who know so well how to forgive and suffer for the name of Jesus Christ, and remove from me the curses of which you spoke. Tell us what we must do, and we shall carry it out.” We then gave him a small present to show that we had forgotten everything. He withdrew content. We had the strongest reasons for believing that matters would turn out in this way.

[10]

We remained for quite a long time without being able to enter every part of the island, because the slanders spread against us by the Protestants had at first produced an unfavourable effect upon the inhabitants. But since truth always ultimately prevails, all these impressions are gradually disappearing and now remain only among a few obstinate fanatics. In general, we are no longer hated, and the greater number love us.

[11]

Toward the end of last July, for the first time we visited a large, entirely Protestant tribe, where the great chief and all the inhabitants received us very well. We also visited the minister who was our adversary; he received us civilly but coldly. As soon as we left him, he mounted the pulpit and in his address uttered all the customary slanders against us and the religion. That evening we had to answer them all: we worship the Blessed Virgin and the saints; we worship the cross; we forbid marriage; we do not permit the people to read the Bible; and ours is a religion that kills people and converts them by force. Would you believe it? I had to answer the inhabitants' objections [p. 8] concerning the Inquisition and the Saint Bartholomew's Day massacre.

[12]

They were very satisfied with the explanations we gave them. We answered some questions seriously; for others, we merely turned the accuser into an object of ridicule. This latter means is very effective among the islanders. I had great difficulty making a great chief who received us amicably understand the cross. In vain I told him that it was only a memorial reminding us of the benefits of our redemption and the immense love of our Redeemer, a memorial well able to console us amid life's many hardships; he did not appear to grasp my meaning. I then took my pencil and began writing a few words in my notebook. “What are you writing?” he asked. “I am writing about the fine reception you have given us,” I replied. “I was deeply touched by your friendship, which I never wish to forget. I even want my friends in France to know of it, and they will certainly love you when they learn that you did me good. Today I firmly intend always to remember it, but since man is weak and easily forgets things when he does not have before his eyes objects that recall them, I am writing these words so that, if I ever forget the good Nukuvakano does me today, I may remember it by looking at my book.” Then, fully understanding my meaning, he told me: “Old man, your tongue is straight, and undoubtedly your heart is too....” “Moreover, ask those of our religion; they will tell you our teaching on this matter.” At this, one of the inhabitants accompanying us replied: “The old men consider anyone who worshipped the cross, the Blessed Virgin, or the saints to be like a pagan; he would not belong to our religion.” “You see,” we told him, “that those who told you all that deceived you or were themselves in error.” At these words he [p. 9] replied: “You are upright.”

[13]

Regarding the claim that we use violence - I was speaking in a tribe the Protestants had converted by force of arms - I replied: “Yes, we compel people to turn to our religion; ours is a religion that kills and ruins people, while yours is a religion that converts through gentle persuasion, a religion of peace, charity, and love. Wherever your ministers have passed, marks of this persuasion, charity, and love can be seen. I see marks of them here. Coming to see you today, I passed through Hule” - a tribe that was entirely massacred because it refused to submit. “I looked for people there and found only bones! That is love and charity, but the love and charity cats have for rats and sharks for other fish.” An old man from the tribe just named, who had seen everything, then told me: “Old man, your words are strong, but they are true. Speak to us no more about it; spare us regret.”

[14]

The missionary was terrified by the fine reception given to us. “These bewitched papists,” he said, “are capable of attracting everyone to themselves.” Consequently, he forbade all his co-religionists to have any contact with us, whether by visiting us or receiving us into their homes. “There is no crime,” he said, “like communicating with a Catholic.” On our second journey to that same tribe, we immediately noticed extraordinary coldness in the great chief and the people. Nevertheless, outwardly everything went well. After conversing for quite some time, we took our leave; but an inhabitant accompanying us remained behind for a while, then rejoined us and said that the chief asked us not to return to his home or his tribe. We then retraced our steps [p. 10] and spoke to him as follows:

[15]

“We have returned to you to learn exactly what you think and why you receive us so badly today, when you received us so well on our first visit.” Since he stammered without daring to tell us his thoughts plainly, we continued: “You will not tell us what you think, but we understand it well enough. Your language toward us has changed, but your heart has not; it is still the same, inclined to kindness, gentleness, and friendship - a Tongan heart. Indeed, since your islands became known, everyone has agreed to call them the Friendly Islands because of their inhabitants' gentleness. You were already friends of all people while you were still pagan; now that you have embraced religion, religion, if it is good, should have increased and perfected your friendship. We may therefore conclude that your hostility toward us did not originate on your island; it comes from a foreign land. But what am I saying? It is not hostility, only its appearance. It is indeed upon your lips but far from your heart. Yes, when you were forbidden a thousand things forbidden neither by God nor by any people in the world, you obeyed because your hearts desire only gentleness and peace; but when you are forbidden to love, when hatred is imposed upon you as a commandment, it will be impossible to obey. It would be like commanding fish to fly away from the sea and flee into its bed.”

[16]

“Moreover, for what reasons would you hate us? Have we harmed anyone? We do not come here [p. 11] with weapons to make you embrace our religion. We do not come to teach people against their will. We come to visit the people in friendship and, if anyone wishes to know our doctrine, we are always ready to make it known to them.” Here he told us: “But we have our religion and our missionary.” “Yes,” we replied, “you have a missionary; it pleases him to assume that title, but ask him where he comes from and who sent him. If he tells the truth, you will know what he is; if he refuses to tell it, we shall tell you. Why does the man you call your missionary hide when we approach and speak so much evil of us in our absence? If he is a true missionary, as he tells you, let him come and show his credentials and defend his cause. Hiding and fleeing from the light belong only to those who do evil. As for us, we are what we tell you we are; we seek the light and desire everyone to see our hearts.”

[17]

While we spoke in this way, he trembled in every limb. We could extract from him only these words: “I do not forbid you to come; you will do as you wish.” Nevertheless, everyone trembled beneath the orders of the chief, who was driven by the missionary. No one would offer us hospitality, something unheard of in this country. It is a tribe converted by force; defeated, they fear their conqueror, who is Protestant.

[18]

It was night. We departed, but, exhausted by hunger and fatigue, we were obliged to let ourselves fall inside an abandoned house outside the tribe. Nevertheless, we were content. The disciples of Him who had nowhere to lay His head always have more than they deserve. [p. 12] The great chief, however, learned that we had camped outside in a house used to shelter animals, and he was displeased. He sent two of his men to ask us to sleep at his house. We first replied that we thanked him, that it was almost day, and that we were about to set out. Not satisfied with these reasons, he sent two men a second time, together with his sister, asking as a great favour that we not leave in anger, but return to his house at least for a moment to make peace, after which we might do as we wished. We returned. He received us very well and offered us his house whenever we wished to visit his tribe. He had feared the anger of the island's greatest chief, whom he knew received us very well.

[19]

On our third journey to this tribe, we were scarcely better received than on the second. The missionary had worked upon them again. Everyone in this tribe loves us, but, being conquered, they fear everything. Nevertheless, one family dared to take it upon themselves to receive us very well in defiance of the missionary's orders. “Well,” the head of this family told us, “we have seen in the book that the great commandment is to love God and all people as ourselves. We shall therefore not listen to the missionary who orders us to hate you. My house is yours. Come whenever you wish; come often; we shall receive you as well as we can.”

[20]

The great chief of the tribe where we live, recently converted, wishes to force the pagans and Protestants either to become Catholic or leave his tribe. Before doing anything, however, he consulted us. [p. 13] We strongly urged him to leave everyone freedom of conscience. “But the Protestants certainly used force,” he told us. “The Protestants,” we replied, “are not God's avengers. They do not understand the spirit of the Gospel, which teaches that we must lead pagans and heretics by our good examples. Persuasion is the force of truth, and the truth forbids us ever to employ open force. If God wished to use such a means, who could resist His omnipotence? But He wishes to leave everyone free and wants His ministers to act in the same way. Those who use violence thereby show that they are not sent by God.” He assented to our arguments. When this episode became known throughout the island, the inhabitants said: “The papists are not like the others. When we want a religion, theirs is the one we shall embrace.”

[21]

Two things, independently of all other causes, greatly retard the mission's progress here. First are the Protestants, who are always present to utter slanders against the Catholic religion and its ministers. “Lie, lie a great deal,” Voltaire said; “something will always remain,” and this is only too true. Here falsehood could sometimes take on the colours of truth. In France, where there are so many means of discerning truth from falsehood, a lie must all the more produce some bad effects. Here, where people are less educated and have even fewer means of knowing the truth, the heretics were here before us, which creates a presumption in their favour among those attached to them. Moreover, the way they treat their co-religionists makes the pagans fear that one day we too might treat them [p. 14] in the same manner. “We fear beatings,” the latter say; “that is why we remain pagan.” The true religion is indeed powerful in making people happy even in this life, and those on our island fortunate enough to embrace it already experience something of this. But the heretics are always there to tell everyone concerning us: “They now display gentleness and kindness, but wait a while and you will see the most extraordinary punishments fall upon you: red-hot irons, prison, and death. They appear good, but they are wolves clothed in sheepskins.”

[22]

Party spirit is also very unfavourable. Here people say: “I do not wish to belong to that man's religion because he is not from my tribe; I hate him.” The hatred existing between tribes causes the inhabitants to insult one another. One despises the other and, along with everything else, despises whatever concerns religion. A little path dividing the territories of two tribes here creates sworn enemies. The inhabitants on one side say that those on the other are fools, ignorant, cowardly, and savage; those on the other side of the path say the same in return about their enemies. From this arise disastrous quarrels and wars. It is truly pitiful. But with a little reflection, one should not be surprised, since nearly the same thing is found in Europe, civilized and perfected for eighteen hundred years by the Catholic religion, which is destined to overthrow the wall of separation existing between peoples. In France, as you know, an inhabitant of a great city often despises one from an ordinary town, and a townsman disdains a country dweller. One even sees two sections of a parish separated by a little stream sometimes say everything our islanders separated by a small bay or a few shells say to one another; they would [p. 15] even come to blows if they did not have more means of restraint than our savages. Oh, if people were truly reasonable, they would soon become Christians; and if they perfectly understood the words “Our Father, who art in heaven...,” they would be perfect.

[23]

An old woman had gravely insulted the son of a great chief who is Catholic with his whole family. It was decided that the woman in question would receive forty-five strokes of a stick. His wife, who is our best Christian, told him: “You wish to punish this woman as though you were a pagan. But when you were a pagan, you did not say five or six times a day, ‘Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.’ You wish to punish this woman as she deserves; but if God treated us as we deserve, where would we be? Since He is so good as to forgive the enormous and innumerable faults we have committed, must we not forgive the small offences done to us? That is what the old men explained to us last Sunday. Look, have them come and you will see what they tell you.” He summoned us and said he would do as we told him. She was sent away absolved, and this woman, who was pagan, immediately converted.

[24]

A quarrel between two great chiefs, one belonging to our religion and the other pagan, was happily ended through our intervention. A major cause for war arose from a theft committed in the tribe where we live. The stolen objects were several whale teeth worshipped there as a divinity. We made every effort with both parties to restore peace, and [p. 16] peace was concluded. Several other highly consequential quarrels ended by the two old men appeared very advantageous to the religion. Everyone said: “The Wesleyan missionaries made us wage war, while these men restrain us when we wish to wage it. Their religion is a religion of love; it is good for Tonga.”

[25]

At this same time, the chief of the heretics visited all the pagan tribes. Everywhere he was poorly received. Everywhere people answered that they did not yet wish to convert, that they wished to examine further, and that undoubtedly the religion they later embraced would not be his but the one preached by the two old men. “But,” the heretical minister told them, “it is a false religion and an enemy of mankind.” “You say so,” they replied, “but we do not believe you.” He proposed sending one tribe a missionary whom he named. They replied: “When we wish to learn fornication and adultery, we shall ask you to send us Monsieur Miles.” This man is a sailor, formerly a cook aboard a ship, who disembarked at Tonga and, after spending six years living the life sailors lead on our islands, was accepted as a missionary by the Wesleyan Society.

[26]

Despite everything I have just said, our mission had fallen into a state of languor that, humanly considered, appeared likely to destroy everything. The principal cause was the delay of His Excellency in visiting us. He had promised the inhabitants to visit after three months; sixteen months had passed and still there was no bishop. The pagans no longer wished to listen to us; our neophytes were wavering; and we, placed between heresy and paganism without any human assistance, [p. 17] had been reduced to great extremity. “These men,” the pagans said of us, “are adventurers, slaves whom their masters set down upon our land to be rid of them.” The Protestant inhabitants, incited by their missionaries, were there to lend credibility to this idea. One thing nevertheless astonished them: our resignation in suffering.

[27]

Matters stood thus when, on 22 November at three in the afternoon, we received a letter announcing the arrival of a French warship. It was the Bucéphale, commanded by Monsieur Laferrière, announcing a new bishop with six confrères. The letter announced that the Bucéphale had come on behalf of the government to protect us if necessary. We immediately went aboard; we live one and a half leagues from the port. Imagine my joy! I had not seen a Frenchman for twenty-six months. We slept aboard. The next day we went to our tribe: the new bishop, our confrères, the commander, and his entire staff. His Excellency celebrated in our church with the greatest possible solemnity. Monsieur Laferrière and his entire staff greatly edified our neophytes through their pious and modest bearing during divine worship, and they themselves were edified by the beautiful harmony displayed by our islanders in their prayers and religious songs. After breakfast that day and on the following two days, we all went together to visit the chiefs. The commander personally gave them presents and told them they must respect us, because in respecting us they respected the king of France, whose friends we were. Thanks be rendered to Monsieur Laferrière, who fulfilled his mission so well. He was very useful to the religion and to us, lavishing without measure everything we could expect, not merely from a man of war but from a capable and pious friend. After remaining [p. 17] four days at Tonga, they weighed anchor for Wallis, where the Bishop of Amata was to consecrate Father Bataillon. From there they were to visit Futuna and then, still carried aboard the Bucéphale, travel to New Caledonia, where he would found a new mission with some of our confrères.

[28]

Since the Bucéphale departed, our mission has regained vigour. But since one can never be without hardship, a general illness came to afflict our island, and our enemies spread the report that the French ship had brought it. Nevertheless, their influence diminishes day by day, while ours increases in proportion. The principal chief of their party loves and respects us. We have just held the solemn baptism of forty people, fifteen of whom had belonged to the heretics. A few days later we arranged the First Communion of twenty-four. We now have fifty-four communicants.

[29]

A little girl seven or eight years old, already well instructed, showed us that intelligence and feeling are found everywhere. Her father and mother indeed said they belonged to the religion, but took little trouble to prepare for baptism. We had reasons not to baptize the child and told her that she had to wait for her parents. The young girl was deeply distressed. She went to her parents and told them: “You continually neglect to prepare for baptism. You still live as before. You are damning yourselves, and if you died in that state, where would you go? You would go to hell, as the two old men say. Yet you are not content to be unhappy yourselves; you are also the reason I am unhappy. All my companions will be happy the day after tomorrow, while I remain behind, and it is because of you that I remain; and then you say you love me.” She said this while weeping. [p. 19] Her parents replied: “Take comfort, my child. At the next baptism we shall all be among them.”

[30]

If I told you there were no hardships here, I would be untruthful. There are hardships, and many of them. If they were all related in detail and the person hearing them relied only upon human strength, it would be quite extraordinary if he had the courage to come. But another calculation must be made. When God sends someone, God has the power to sustain him and even make consolations abound; I can assure you that I have personally experienced this. Therefore, do not let the thought of tribulations arrest your noble ardour for the missions.

[31]

Hardships! But missionaries perhaps have fewer than so many navigators. Every day the seas are crossed by countless merchants who suffer as much as we do and more. Hardships: whalers and pearl traders have them. Undoubtedly they also have them who, driven by love of glory and science, travel from pole to pole at the risk of being buried beneath masses of ice, seeking terrestrial magnetism. Why should we not do for the sake of winning souls for God, for fishing up those pearls that must one day adorn heaven, what others do to favour human vanity and enrich the sciences? Many of these navigators labour only for time; we labour for eternity. They place their reward here below, where it may at any moment be buried with them beneath the abyss of the seas. The greater number do not know or even think to say: Scio cui credidi et quia potens est depositum meum servare in illum diem, which is sometimes the missionary's only but steadfast consolation. [p. 20]

[32]

This year's extreme heat remained three degrees below that of last year. Last year's reached 30 degrees, while this one reached only 27 degrees Réaumur.

[33]

We experienced thirteen earthquakes, four of them extraordinary. One in particular made us fear that we would see the island disappear beneath the waves.

[34]

A boat arriving from Fiji announced the appearance of a new island situated between Fiji and Vavaʻu.

[35]

Not everything here is wonderful, any more than in any other part of the world. As elsewhere, there is indeed indifference, ingratitude, and even contempt for religion and its ministers; but here as elsewhere the good God knows how to find His elect. We have some good Christians. Among the first converts were two young married people in whom we recognized great uprightness of mind joined to true piety. We asked them to live in a small pagan tribe, hoping their good example would bring some people to the faith. Our hope was not in vain. They so spread the sweet fragrance of Jesus Christ throughout that little community that we already count more than forty persons there, all of whom might be said to have been formed upon the model of the first two edifying neophytes.

[36]

In this same tribe I saw something you will scarcely believe, but which is nevertheless entirely true: a little child of three - no older - already so well instructed in religion that, however I questioned him, I could not catch him out on any question in his catechism. This little angel asked our permission to instruct his relatives, who are all still pagan except for his father and mother. He is an excellent catechist, all the more so because it seems impossible to refuse anything to innocent simplicity. It is this little child [p. 21] who says grace before and after meals in his family. He has seen Mass celebrated five or six times and already imitates all its ceremonies. For a corporal he uses a banana leaf, and for a chalice a seashell. When he is grown, he wishes to celebrate it in earnest. One day he told his grandfather and grandmother: “You love me greatly, and I truly love you. You serve the devil, who is wicked, while I serve Jehovah and Jesus Christ, who are infinitely good. You walk upon the road to hell, while I am on the road leading to happiness. You must join me and abandon the devil, that evil master. I want to go to heaven. We must go there together; otherwise, one day we shall be obliged to separate and no longer love one another.” And he said a thousand other similar things. In another tribe I saw a six-year-old girl with the same ability and displaying the same concern in every respect. Oh, I assure you that one such scene makes me forget a thousand wearisome ones.

[37]

A word about some European plants I brought here. The fig trees, which at first appeared to succeed very well, produce fruit inferior to that of Europe, and a worm entering the pith soon kills them. Cabbages will not produce seed, but they grow from cuttings and are very good. Carrots and lettuces produce seed and succeed well during the four cooler months of the year. As for flowers, until now I have succeeded in growing only Bengal roses and balsams. I sowed wheat several times without its sprouting, but I have just sown some that gives fine promise.

[38]

The vine. At the beginning of October 1842, I brought from New Zealand five grapevines that I had brought from France a year earlier. [p. 22] They have far exceeded my expectations. Fourteen months after being transplanted here, they produced their first fruit, which was very beautiful and delicious. Before my arrival the Protestant missionaries had brought vines, but without success. They had waited for them to produce fruit. A particular climate requires a different method of cultivation. Here is the method I employed. Since vegetation here is extraordinary - the first growth produced shoots thirty-two feet long - I tried four different methods upon the five vines. I applied the method in which I had the greatest hope to the two best vines, and indeed only those two succeeded. To subdue this extraordinary vigour, when pruning them I left very long canes, nine or ten feet on each shoot. I then arranged these canes in a circle, twisting them slightly. This pruning was done around the beginning of July. Six weeks later, with the greatest pleasure I saw one fine bunch of grapes appear, and eight days later another six, finer still. They grew very well for some time, but eventually began to languish and appeared likely to perish, when I thought of another way to preserve them. It was then October. Observing that their weakness came from the excessive growth of their shoots, I pruned the vines again, but differently from the first time. During the ten or twelve days when they ceased growing, all their substance passed into the roots, which became very large. Only ripening then remained, and it proceeded very well. You see, therefore, that with intelligence and application one may hope to have wine in the tropics.

[39]

What do you think I did with the first bunch of grapes harvested at Tonga? Gave it away? Preserved it? No, neither. I reverently harvested it, pressed it in a very clean cloth, and after clarifying the juice, used it to say Holy Mass. It was 1 January 1844. I was entirely alone that day, my confrère being absent, with no one to whom I could express my New Year's wishes, while you, amid your many friends, spent the day in gladness. Thus I found myself [p. 23] entirely alone, six thousand leagues from my friends. I could not make them hear my most sincere wishes, yet my heart needed to pour itself out. What was I to do? I celebrated for everyone - friends, relatives, and benefactors in France - and entrusted the One who belongs to every time and place with conveying my wishes to them. May they be fulfilled according to my desires. You will be happy, perfectly happy, upon the earth where we probably shall not see one another again, but happier still in heaven, where I hope we shall meet one day never to be separated.

[40]

May God guide the Adelphe safely amid the waves, may it carry my letter to you as quickly as possible and bring me letters from you, my dear friends. Write to me whatever you wish; only write to me. Pray for me.

Farewell.

1. To Father Nicoud, parish priest at Saint-Clair, near Condrieu, Rhône
2. To Father Villerd, teacher at Saint-Jodard, near Roanne, Loire
3. To Father Fond at Les Chartreux, Lyon

Grange

apostolic missionary

priest of the Society of Mary

I wish this letter to be presented to Father Duplay, superior of the major seminary of Lyon.