Upstairs/Downstairs Part 3

The Marist Brothers in the Life of the French Catholic Mission

This paper was delivered by Brother Bryan Stanaway on behalf of its author, Brother Edward Clisby, to the Symposium organised by the New Zealand Historic Places Trust on “The French Place in the Bay of Islands” held in Russell in January 2004.

Following Emery’s occupations is almost to follow the development of the procure. In the beginning he worked on the building as a mason and a maker of pise. Then with the need to have gardens to provide them with the necessities of life, he became a gardener. With the completion of the storehouse, he was put in charge of that and getting things packed for the stations. When he had time and material he worked at his trade as tailor. Like Basile, he was dependent on the financial state of the mission and sometimes had to take drastic steps to help clothe the missionaries. Nor were his services limited to the missionaries. One of Claude-Marie’s complaints was about what happened to the religious costume he was no longer allowed to wear: Do you know what they did with that poor habit of Mary’s, the habit I longed for so ardently when I was a novice and which I found a pleasure to wear once I had permission? It was torn up to make cloaks and trousers for the natives, according to dear Brother Colomb. Sometimes, as in July 1842, Emery spent some weeks at the nearest stations of Whangaroa and Hokianga mending clothes. Once the printery was in full operation, he was assigned to help Yvert and Luc with the printing and binding of books. Writing to Colin at the beginning of 1843, he claimed he found the work of the mission painful: I don’t work much at tailoring. I have to work in the garden, go to the forest or go out in the boat. Some days are very trying when one goes out in the boat because one has to struggle for days at a time against the wind. Now I am working in the printery and for about a fortnight I have been at work through the night. All these labours have reduced me to skin and bone. At the end of the year, however, he has something to show for his labours. We have already produced two books in octavo, he writes to Francois, the first of 16 pages and 2000 copies, and the second of 98 pages and 3,200 copies, as well as 8 separate pages on the sacraments of penance and the eucharist, and also 2 pages for the school, 3000 copies of each. There are only two of us for the printing and one for typesetting…I am compelled to let our Fathers and Brothers go about in rags because printing takes up a lot of time and there is no other Brother to replace me. The ideal tailor at the procure, he thought, would be a cripple unable to do anything but sew, since otherwise he would find himself employed at all other sorts of work as well.

With the amount of work they had to do, it is not surprising that the brothers at the procure had little opportunity to follow their vocation as catechists. Although there was a school for Maori, the brothers assigned there as teachers in 1844, albeit briefly, Elie-Regis and Claude-Marie, were both from other stations. There were always Maori coming for instruction, for services, or simply to visit. Indeed, by 1843 the Marists had built two big huts near their house to accommodate those staying for instruction and not only were they almost always full, but the catechumens sometimes overflowed into the printery and the residences. Even so it was not a good learning environment for the brothers. Emery expresses his frustration to Colin at the beginning of the year: I have a great desire to learn their language but I cannot do so because our occupations at the mother house are so numerous that they don’t allow us time to study or talk with the natives. I suffer a lot when I find myself among them, when they speak and I cannot answer them, and I want so much to be able to instruct them . However, in conjunction with the printing, he did learn to read the language, and this was a cause of consolation. I have been a few times on visits to the tribes, he informs Colin in a later letter. How happy I am to be among them. I teach them to make the sign of the cross, to sing, to read; I do the prayers and sing at Mass when it is said, for I can read it well enough. By March 1845 he was also a fluent enough speaker to act as interpreter for a fellow Frenchman.

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Detail of a drawing of the southern end of Kororareka by T.M. Jones c.1850. It shows the buildings of the Catholic Mission compound including the printery, rising above the lower buildings closer to the shore.
(Alexander Turnbull Library)


With the amount of work they had to do, it is not surprising that the brothers at the procure had little opportunity to follow their vocation as catechists. Although there was a school for Maori, the brothers assigned there as teachers in 1844, albeit briefly, Elie-Regis and Claude-Marie, were both from other stations. There were always Maori coming for instruction, for services, or simply to visit. Indeed, by 1843 the Marists had built two big huts near their house to accommodate those staying for instruction and not only were they almost always full, but the catechumens sometimes overflowed into the printery and the residences. Even so it was not a good learning environment for the brothers. Emery expresses his frustration to Colin at the beginning of the year: I have a great desire to learn their language but I cannot do so because our occupations at the mother house are so numerous that they don’t allow us time to study or talk with the natives. I suffer a lot when I find myself among them, when they speak and I cannot answer them, and I want so much to be able to instruct them . However, in conjunction with the printing, he did learn to read the language, and this was a cause of consolation. I have been a few times on visits to the tribes, he informs Colin in a later letter. How happy I am to be among them. I teach them to make the sign of the cross, to sing, to read; I do the prayers and sing at Mass when it is said, for I can read it well enough. By March 1845 he was also a fluent enough speaker to act as interpreter for a fellow Frenchman.

The routine was punctuated by various visits and incidents faithfully recorded in the brother’s letters.In one he reports the visit of a chief from the Hokianga known to be hostile to Catholics: He came into the house, but not with the idea of converting. I had already seen him several times on my trips to Okianga [sic] and I held out my hand. He extended his, but ungraciously, for he was a hard man and had a bad reputation. Even though Monsignor [the bishop] was also present he virtually ignored him. However, we offered him something to eat and that made some impression on him. Some moments later he went looking for His Lordship who invited him to his room. There he was taken in the net. Monsignor showed him a book and read him several passages of apologetics…He changed so much that, from being as cruel as a wolf he became as docile as a lamb, and shook hands cordially. There were three of them and each wanted to take a book. In the same letter, remarking on their love for chant and singing, he writes: There’s one hymn to the Blessed Virgin they particularly like; they sing it everywhere. Today 3 little girls 7 to 8 years old came to watch the printing. They saw a picture of the Blessed Virgin and sat down in front of it and sang this hymn twice while looking at the picture. It was very edifying. In another, written to Henry Garnett, an Englishman who had been a teacher at the Bay and was now in France studying for the priesthood with the Marists, he reports: Now our place is full of natives, especially since we built them two big huts behind our big house. It is a fine sight now.

An illustration from a French encyclopedia showing French tanners fleshing hides C.1760 – this scene illustrates the same work the Brothers carried out at Kororareka

Tanning and curriering activities of the mid 1800s.

Every evening these good Maori can be heard singing hymns, reciting their catechisms, rosaries, or other prayers. They learn very fast and know their catechism from one end to the other. He also records the visit of a French warship: The ship is the ‘Rhin’. It arrived in the Bay of Islands on the eve of All Saints. Br Luc and I carried Monsignor’s letter of welcome to the captain. He asked if the band could play at Mass the next day and if they could attend. We replied that that would give His Lordship great pleasure and the next day he sent it, and came himself with all his officers. The band really impressed the natives who had not seen anything like it. They were expecting the ‘Rhin’ to return for the dedication of the new chapel in February 1844, but it was the crew of the corvette ‘Bucephale’ that was in attendance on that occasion.

In a long letter to Francois in September 1845, Emery provides an eye-witness account of the Kororareka war of March, when Hone Heke and Kawiti attacked and took the town. As Frenchmen and Catholic missionaries, the Marists were considered neutral in this conflict and were able to move relatively freely between the town and the Maori camps. After describing preparations made by the defenders, the brother describes a visit he paid with Antoine Seon to Heke’s camp on 9 March. On Sunday I was at the Maori camp with Fr Seon. The chief John Heke received us cordially, he made me sit beside him, and they all gathered around us. I was quite embarrassed as they were only Protestants. The chief told Fr Seon, ‘Stay with us all of you. You have nothing to fear. We will spare the French.’ The Catholic chiefs said the same.

The priest took the Catholics for prayers, he baptized 4 and confessed 4; one of them was killed. We came home assured of their friendship. They told us, ‘We will be coming tomorrow, or the day after.’ They did not fail. The Marists had hired a little ship and put aboard those things they considered most necessary. There were six of them in residence at the time, the bishop, Seon, Claude Baty, Pierre-Marie, Basile, and Emery. Half slept on board at night while the others kept watch ashore. On the day of the attack, Emery was the one on watch. When I saw daylight appear I was in the chapel making my meditation. We did not think they would attack by day. When I had finished my prayer, I heard the cannon shot which was the signal they were near. I thought it was a priest entering the sacristy. Then there was a crackle of rifle fire and I thought it was the priest walking around. However, listening carefully, I went out to see what it was. A a a a a – when I heard the bullet whistling like that, I didn’t go back to the chapel. I left my lantern lit and my book beside me and then the others came looking for me to leave for the ship. When I was pushing the boat into the water there was a burst of cannon fire. Oh, I thought it was the end of me. It took my breath away. The ball passed about 40 paces from me, making a terrible whistling sound, and then the musket balls were whizzing past our ears or over our heads. I ducked down as low as I could. A man passing by said, ‘I’ve just had a bullet hole in my hat.’ Eventually we were all on board our ship and we left the house in the hands of Providence.

Brother Michel Colombon in his later years, known as ‘Jimmy The Gardener’ when he worked as a market gardener in Reefton

Instructions by Jean Rondelet which the Brothers followed when building Pompallier House – the pisé or rammed earth walls method.