Father Damien : an open letter to the Reverend Dr. Hyde of Honolulu

^ffl|||{||*P

WtuTi"?;'"; V.'-\

1

ui Lfl

O

1"

'

T

r-

^

^^ vTHER DAMIEN

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE

: DR. HYDE OF HONOLULU

13ERT LOULS S FEVENSON
f^h a Statement dy Mrs.Ste^'enson)

ST. BASIUS SEMINARY

TORONTO, CANADA

LIBRARY

GIFT OF

Rev. Wm, Goodrow

m

Digitized by tine Internet Archive

in 2008 witii funding from

IVIicrosoft Corporation

littp://www.arcliive.org/details/fatlierdamienopenOOstevuoft

Jfatfjer ISamten

Jfatfier Bamien

Hn ©pen Xetter to tbc

"RcvcrenO 2)r. JK^Oc ot Monolulu from

■Robert Xoui6 Stevenson

[WITH A STATEMENT BY MRS. STEVENSON]

Zbe Hve /ibaria pre00

Itotrc S>ame, InMana
"CI. S. ».

DEC 4 1959

J^ubligfjer'fi preface.

<y|^HE constant demand for the far-famed
^^ "Open Letter" in durable rather than
dainty form, but more especially the
reiterated assertion that Stevenson regretted
this production and would have recalled it
had recall been possible, are the raison d'etre
of the present reprint. An American author
of some repute has had the hardihood to
declare in one of his books that "Stevenson
did not really b.l ve what he wrote, neither
did he intend to mte what he did. . . . Steven-
son could not h:,v^ been honest at heart when
he wrote his .'o.;ier to Dr. Hyde." It is well,
l)erhaps, for t'is worthy that the pen of the
man whom he thus defames is now powerless.
Feeling sure that some day when "in
his resting grave" the defender of Father
Damien would need to be defended himself,
we took care several years ago to secure from
Mrs. Stevenson a statement regarding the
"Open Letter to the Rev. Dr. Hyde." In
answer to our inquiry as to the truth of the
assertion, so often repeated, that her husband
regretted the letter, and that before his death
his opinion of Father Damien had undergone
a change, Mrs. Stevenson entered an indig-
nantly emphatic denial which is p'resented
on another page. This testimony, we think,
should forever settle the matter. The inquiry

publidber'd preface.

was made through the late Charles Warren
Stoddard, who was then contemplating a
new and enlarged edition (since published)
of his own beautiful tribute to Father Damien,
"The Lepers of Molokai." Mrs. Stevenson's
letter is in our possession.

It will further enhance the value and
interest of the present edition of Stevenson's
powerful apologia to state that it is an exact
reprint of the original issue, now of extreme
rarity, which ' has a few corrections in the
writer's own hand. The "Open Letter" was first
printed in a small pamphlet of thirty-two
pages, at Sydney, N. S. W., on March 27, 1890.
Many editions of it had been published before
Mr. Stevenson's death, and it is worth recalling
that he persistently refused to accept pay-
ment from any source for this defence of the
Apostle of Molokai. He once wrote to a
London pubHsher: "The letter to Dr. Hyde
is yours, or any man's. I will never touch a
penny of remuneration. I do not stick at
murder; I draw the line at cannibaHsm. I
could not eat a penny roll that piece of bludgeon-
ing brought me."

The use of the Rev. Dr. Rawnsley's exquisite
sonnet, from the collection of poems entitled
"Valete," is with his kind permission,

Notre Dame, Ind.
Jan. 10, 1911.

Statement
0ivsi, B^tiert Houis; i^tetien£(on.

... As to the "Open Letter to Dr.
Hyde," nothing can make me believe that
Louis ever regretted the subject - matter of
that piece of writing. To me, up to his
last hours, he spoke always in the same
strain. His admiration for the work and
character of "that saint, that martyr,"
as he invariably called Father Damien,
remained unchanged; and any mention
of the cowardly attack on the dead man's
memory brought a flush of anger into his
face and a fire to his eye that were
unmistakable. . . .

J^atber 2)amien

Hn ©pen Xetter to tbe TRcvcxentf Dr. M^^e of
•fconoluln from iRobcrt Xouls Stevenaon

Sydney, February 25, 1890.

^^ I R , — It may probably occur
^^ to you that we have met,
and visited, and conversed ;
on my side with interest. You may
remember that you have done me
several courtesies for which I w^as pre-
pared to be grateful. But there are
duties which come before gratitude, and
offences which justly' divide friends, far
more acquaintances. Your letter to the
Reverend H. B. Gage is a document
which, in my sight, if you had filled me
w^ith bread v^-hen I ^vas starving, if you

^atbec Damien.

had sat tip to nurse my father when he
lay a-dying, would j^et absolve me from
the bonds of gratitude. You know
enough, doubtless, of the process of
canonization to be aware that, a hun-
dred years after the death of Damien,
there will appear a man charged with
the painful office of the devil's advocate.
After that noble brother of mine, and of
all frail clay, shall have lain a century
at rest, one shall accuse, one defend him.
The circumstance is unusual that the
devil's advocate should be a volunteer,
should be a member of a sect immedi-
ately rival, and should make haste to
take upon himself his ugly office ere
the bones are cold ; unusual, and of a
taste which I shall leave my readers
free to qualify; unusual, and to me in-
spiring. If I have at all learned the
trade of using words to convey truth
and to arouse emotion, vou have at

■Robert Xouis Stevenson.

last furnished me with a subject. For
it is in the interest of all mankind and
the cause of public decency in every
quarter of the world, not only that
Damien should be righted, but that
you and your letter should be displayed
at length, in their true colors, to the
jiublic eye.

To do this properly, I must begin
by quoting you at large: I shall then
proceed to criticise your utterance from
several points of view, divine and
human, in the course of which I shall
attempt to draw^ again and with more
specification the character of the dead
saint whom it has pleased you to
vilify : so much being done, I shall say
farewell to you forever.

''Honolulu, Aug. 2, 1889.
"Rev. H. B. Gage.

''Dear Brother: — In answ^er to your
inquiries about Father Damien, I can

f atber Damien.

only reply that Ave who knew the man
are surprised at the extravagant news-
paper laudations, as if he was a most
saintly philanthropist. The simple
truth is, he was a coarse, dirty man,
headstrong and bigoted. He w^as not
sent to Molokai, but went there with-
out orders; did not staj' at the leper
settlement ( before he became one him-
self), but circulated freeh' over the
whole island ( less than half the island
is devoted to the lepers), and he came
often to Honolulu. He had no hand
in the reforms and improvements in-
augurated, which were the work of
our Board of Health, as occasion re-
quired and means were provided. He
was not a pure man in his relations
with women, and the leprosy of whicli
he died should be attributed to his vices
and carelessness. Others have done
much for the lepers, our own ministers.

■Robert Xoula Stevenson.

the government physicians, and so
forth, but never with the catholic
idea of meriting eternal life,
"lours, etc.,

"C. M. Hydb."*

To deal fitly w4th a letter so ex-
traordinary', I must draw at the outset
on my private knowledge of the signa-
tory and his sect. It may offend others ;
scarcely j'ou, who have been so busy to
collect, so bold to publish, gossip on
your rivals. And this is perhaps the
moment when I may best explain to
you the character of what you are to
read : I conceive you as a man quite
beyond and below the reticences of
civility: w^ith what measure you mete,
wdth that shall it be measured you
again; with you at last, I rejoice to
feel the button off the foil and to plunge

•From the Sydney Presbyterian, October 26,
1889.

fMhcx Damien.

home. And if in aught that I shall say,
I should offend others, your colleagues,
whom I respect and remember with
affection, I can but offer them my re-
gret; I am not free, I am inspired by
the consideration of interests far more
large; and such pain as can be in-
flicted by anything from me must be
indeed trifling when compared with the
pain with which they read j-^our letter.
It is not the hangman, but the criminid,
that brings dishonor on the house.

You belong, sir, to a sect — I believe my
sect, and that in which my ancestors
labored — which has enjoyed, and partly
failed to utilize, an exceptional advan-
tage in the islands of Hawaii. The
first missionaries came; they found the
land already self- purged of its old and
bloody faith; they were embraced, al-
most on their arrival, with enthusiasm ;
what troubles they supported came far

■Robert Xouls Stevenson. 7

more from whites than from Hawaii-
ans; and to these last they stood (in
a rough figure ) in the shoes of God.
This is not the place to enter into the
degree or causes of their failure, such
as it is. One element alone is pertinent,
and must here be plainly dealt with. In
the course of their evangelical calling,
they — or too many of them — grew
rich. It may be news to you that the
houses of missionaries are a cause of
mocking on the streets of Honolulu.
It will at least be news to you that,
when I returned your civil visit, the
driver of my cab commented on the
size, the taste, and the comfort of your
home. It would have been news cer-
tainly to myself had any one told me
that afternoon that I should live to
drag such matter into print. But you
see, sir, how you degrade better men
to your own level; and it is needful

yatbcr Damien.

that those who are to judge betwixt
3'ou and me, betwixt Damien and the
devil's advocate, should understand
3'our letter to have been penned in a
house which could raise, and that very
justly, the envy and the comments of
the passers-by. I think (to employ a
phrase of yours, which I admire ) it
"should be attributed" to you that
3'ou have never visited the scene of
Damien's life and death. If you had, and
had recalled it, and looked about your
pleasant rooms, even your pen perhaps
would have been stayed.

Your sect ( and, remember, as far as
any sect avows me, it is mine ) has
not done ill in a worldly sense in the
Hawaiian Kingdom. When calamity
l^efell their innocent parishioners, when
leprosy descended and took root in the
Eight Islands, a quid pro quo was to
be looked for. To that j)rosi)erous mis-

"Robert louls Stevenson. 9

sion, and to you, as one cf its adorn-
ments, God had sent at last an oppor-
tunity. I know I am touching here
upon a nerve acutely sensitive. I know-
that others of your colleagues look back
on the inertia of your church, and the
intrusive and decisive heroism of Da-
mien, with something almost to be
called remorse. I am sure it is so with
yourself; I am persuaded your letter
was inspired by a certain envy, not
essentially ignoble, and the one human
trait to be espied in that performance.
You were thinking of the lost chance,
the past day; of that which should
have been conceived and was not; of
the service due and not rendered. Time
was, said the voice in your ear, in your
pleasant room, as you sat raging and
writing ; and if the " words written were
base beyond parallel, the rage, I am
happy to repeat — it is the only com-

10 jfatbcr Damien.

pliment I shall paj you — the rage was
almost virtuous. But, sir, when we
have failed, and another has succeeded ;
when we have stood by, and another
has stepped in; when we sit and grow
bulky in our charming mansions, and
a plain, uncouth peasant steps into the
battle, under the eyes of God, and suc-
cors the afflicted, and consoles the
d3ring, and is himself afflicted in his
turn, and dies upon the field of honor
— the battle can not be retrieved as
your unhappy irritation has suggested.
It is a lost battle, and lost forever.
One thing remained to you in your
defeat — some rags of common honor;
and these you have made haste to cast
aw^ay.

Common honor; not the honor of
having done anything right, but the
honor of not having done aught con-
spicuously foul ; the honor of the inert :

IRobcrt Xouia Stevenson. ii

that was what remained to you. We
are not all expected to be Damiens; a
man may conceive his duty more nar-
rowly, he may love his comforts better ;
and none will cast a stone at him for
that. But will a gentleman of your
reverend profession allow me an ex-
ample from the fields of gallantry?
When two gentlemen compete for the
favor of a lady, and the one succeeds
and the other is rejected, and ( as will
sometimes happen) matter damaging to
the successful rival's credit reaches the
ear of the defeated, it is held by plain
men of no pretensions that his mouth
is, in the circumstance, almost neces-
sarily closed. Your church and Da-
mien's were in Hawaii upon a rivalry
to do well: to help, to edify, to set
divine examples. You having (in one
huge instance ) failed, and Damien suc-
ceeded, I marvel it should not have

12 yatber Damfcn.

occurred to you that you were doomed
to silence; that when you had been
outstripped in that high rivalry, and
sat inglorious in the midst of your well-
being, in your pleasant room — and
Damien, crowned with glories and hor-
rors, toiled and rotted in that pigsty
of his under the cliffs of Kalawao — you,
the elect who would not, were the last
man on earth to collect and propagate
gossip on the volunteer who would and
did.

I think I see you — for I try to see you
in the flesh as I w^rite these sentences —
I think I see you leap at the word pig-
sty, a hyperbolical expression at the
best. "He had no hand in the re-
forms," he was "a coarse, dirty man";
these were your own words; and you
may think it possible that I am come
to support you with fresh evidence.
In a sense it is even so. Damien has

"Robert Xouts Stevenson. 13

been too much depicted with a conven-
tional halo and conventional features;
so drawn by men who perhaps had not
the eye to remark or the pen to express
the individual; or who perhaps were
only blinded and silenced by generous
admiration, such as I partly envy for
myself — such as you, if your soul were
enlightened, would envy on your
bended knees. It is the least defect of
such a method of portraiture that it
makes the path easy for the devil's
advocate, and leaves for the misuse of
the slanderer a considerable field of
truth. For the truth that is suppressed
by friends is the readiest weapon of the
enemy. The world, in your despite,
may perhaps owe you something, if
your letter be the means of substituting
once for all a credible likeness for a
wax abstraction. For, if that world
at all remember you, on the day w^hen

14 ffatbcr Damlcn.

Damien of Molokai shall be named
Saint, it will be in virtue of one work :
your letter to the Reverend H. B. Gage.
You may ask on what authority I
speak. It was my inclement destiny
to become acquainted, not with Da-
mien, but with Dr. Hyde. When I
visited the lazaretto, Damien was al-
ready in his resting grave. But such
information as I have, I gathered on the
spot in conversation w^ith those w^ho
knew him well and long : some indeed
who revered his memory; but others
who had sparred and wrangled with
him, who beheld him with no halo,
who perhaps regarded him with small
respect, and through whose unpre-
pared and scarcely partial communica-
tions the plain, human features of the
man shone on me convincingly. These
gave me w^hat knowledge I possess;
and I learned it in that scene where it

■Robert louis Stevenson. 15

could be most completely and sensi-
tively understood — Kalawao, which
you have never visited, about which
you have never so much as endeavored
to inform yourself: for, brief as your
letter is, j^ou have found the means
to stumble into that confession. " Less
than one-half of the island," you say,
"is devoted to the lepers." Molokai
— '' Molokai ahina,'* the "gray," lofty,
and most desolate island — along all
its northern side plunges a front of
precipice into a sea of unusual pro-
fundity. This range of cliff is, from
east to west, the true end and frontier
of the island. Only in one spot there
projects into the ocean a certain tri-
angular and rugged down, grassy,
stony, w^indy, and rising in the midst
into a hill with a dead crater: the
whole bearing to the cliff that over-
hangs it, somewhat the same relation

16 ffatber Damfcn.

as a bracket to a wall. With tliis hint,
you Avill now be able to pick out the
leper station on a map; you will be
able to judge how much of Molokai
is thus cut oflf between the surf and
precipice, whether less than a half, or
less than a quarter, or a fifth, or a
tenth — or, say, a twentieth; and the
next time you burst into print you will
be in a position to share with us the
issue of your calculations.

I imagine you to be one of those per-
sons who talk with cheerfulness of that
place w^hich oxen and wainropes could
not drag you to behold. You, who do
not even know its situation on the map,
probably denounce sensational descrip-
tions, stretching your limbs the while
in your pleasant parlor on Beretania
Street. When I was pulled ashore there
one early morning, there sat with me
in the boat two Sisters, bidding fare-

TRobcrt XouiiS Stevenson. 17

well ( in humble imitation of Damien )
to the lights and jo^'s of human life.
One of these \Yept silenth- ; I could not
withhold myself from joining her. Had
you been there, it is my belief that
nature would have triumphed even in
you ; and as the boat drew but a little
nearer, and j^ou beheld the stairs
crowded with abominable deforma-
tions of our common manhood, and
saw yourself landing in the midst of
such a population as only now^ and
then surrounds us in the horror of a
nightmare — w^hat a haggard eye w^ould
you have rolled over your reluctant
shoulder toward the house on Bere-
tania Street! Had j^ou gone on; had
you found every fourth face a blot
upon the landscape; had you visited
the hospital and seen the butt-ends of
human beings lying there almost un-
recognizable, but still breathing, still

18 yatber Damien.

thinking, still remembering; you ^YOul(l
have understood that life in the laza-
retto is an ordeal from which the nerves
of a man's spirit shrink, even as his
eye quails under the brightness of the
sun; you would have felt it was (even
to-day) a pitiful place to visit and a
hell to dwell in. It is not the fear of
possible infection. That seems a little
thing when compared with the j^ain,
the pity, and the disgust of the visitor's
surroundings, and the atmosphere of
affliction, disease, and physical disgrace
in which he breathes. I do not think
I am a man more than usually timid ;
but I never recall the days and nights
I spent upon that island promontor}-
(eight days and seven nights), with-
out heartfelt thankfulness that I am
somewhere else. I find in my diarj-
that I speak of my stay as "a grind-
ing experience": I have once jotted m

■Robert Xouia Stevenson. lo

the margin, " Harrowing- is the word ";
and when the Mokolii bore me at hist
toward the outer world, I kept re-
peating to myself, with a new concep-
tion of their pregnancy, those simijle
words of the song —

'"Tis the most distressful country
That ever yet was seen."

And observe: that w^hich I saw^ and
suffered from was a settlement, purged,
bettered, beautified; the new village
built, the hospital and the Bishop's-
Home excellently arranged ; the Sisters,
the doctor, and the missionaries all in-
defatigable in their noble tasks. It was
a different place when Damien came
there, and made his great renunciation,
and slept that first night under a tree
amidst his rotting brethren: alone
with pestilence; and looking forAvard
(with what courage, with what piti-
ful sinkings of dread, God only knows )

20 yatber 2)amten.

to a lifetime of dressing sores and
stumps.

You will say, perhaps, I am too
sensitive, that sights as painful abound
in cancer hospitals and are confronted
daily by doctors and nurses. I have
long learned to admire and envy the
doctors and the nurses. But there is
no cancer hospital so large and popu-
lous as Kalawao and Kalaupapa; and
in such a matter CYery fresh case, like
every inch of length in the pipe of an
organ, deepens the note of the impres-
sion; for what daunts the onlooker
is that monstrous sum of human suf-
fering by which he stands surrounded.
Lastly, no doctor or nurse is called
upon to enter once for all the doors
of thjit gehenna ; they do not say fare-
well, they need not abandon hope, on
its sad threshold; they but go for a
time to their high calling ; and can look

■Robert Xouls Stevenson. 21

forward as they go to relief, to recrea-
tion, and to rest. But Damien shut to
with his own hand the doors of his
own sepulchre.

I shall now^ extract three passages
from my diary at Kalawao.

A. ** Damien is dead and already
somewhat ungratefully remembered in
the field of his labors and sufferings.
* He was a good man, but very offi-
cious,' says one. Another tells me he
had fallen (as other priests so easily
do) into something of the w^ays and
habits of thought of a Kanaka; but
he had the wit to recognize the fact,
and the good sense to laugh at" [over]
**it. A plain man it seems he was; I
can not find he was a popular."

B. "After Ragsdale's death" [Rags-
dale w^as a famous Luna, or overseer,
of the unruly settlement] "there fol-
lowed a brief term of office by Father

22 fatbcv S)amien.

Damien which served only to pubHsh
the weakness of that noble man. He
was rough in his waj-s, and he had no
control. Authority was relaxed; Da-
mien's life was threatened, and he was
soon eager to resign."

C. "Of Damien I begin to have an
idea. He seems to have been a man
of the peasant class, certainly of the
peasant type: shrewd, ignorant and
bigoted; yet with an open mind, and
capable of receiving and digesting a
reproof if it were bluntly administered ;
superbly generous in the least thing as
well as in the greatest, and as read}' to
give his last shirt ( although not with-
out human grumbling) as he had been
to sacrifice his life ; essentially indiscreet
and officious, which made him a trouble-
some colleague; domineering in all his
ways, which made him incurably un-
popular with the Kanakas, but yet

■Robert ILouia Stevenson. 23

destitute of real authority, so that his
boys laughed at him, and he must carry
out his wishes by the means of bribes.
He learned to have a mania for doctor-
ing; and set up the Kanakas against
the remedies of his regular rivals: per-
haps (if anything matter at all in the
treatment of such a disease) the worst
thing that he did, and certainly the
easiest. The best and w^orst of the man
appear very plainly in his dealings wath
Mr. Chapman's money; he had original-
ly laid it out" [intended to lay it out]
"entirely for the benefit of Catholics,
and even so not wisely; but after a
long, plain talk, he admitted his error
fully, and revised the list. The sad state
of the boys' home is in part the result
of his lack of control; in part, of his
own slovenly w^ays and false ideas of
hygiene. Brother officials used to call
it 'Damien's Chinatown.' 'Well,' thev

24 yatbcr Damien.

would say, 'your Chinatown keeps
growing.' And he would laugh with
perfect good nature, and adhere to his
errors with perfect obstinacy. So much
I have gathered of truth about this
plain, noble human brother and Father
of ours ; his imperfections are the traits
of his face, by Avhich we know him for
our fellow; his martj'rdom and his ex-
ample nothing can lessen or annul ; and
only a person here on the spot can
properlj^ aj^jjreciate their greatness.'

I have set down these private pas-
sages, as you perceive, without correc-
tion; thanks to you, the public has
them in their bluntness. They are al-
most a list of the man's faults, for it is
rather these that I was seeking, with
his virtues, with the heroic profile of his
life, I and the world were already suf-
ficiently acquainted. I w^as besides a
little suspicious of Catholic testimony;

■Robert Xouis Stevenson. 25

in no ill sense, but merely because Da-
mien's admirers and disciples were the
least likely to be critical. I know you
will be more suspicious still; and the
facts set down above were one and all
collected from the lips of Protestants
who had opposed the Father in his life.
Yet I am strangely deceived, or they
build up the image of a man, with all
his weaknesses, essentially heroic, and
alive with rugged honesty, generosity,
and mirth.

Take it for what it is, rough private
jottings of the worst sides of Damien's
character, collected from the lips of
those who had labored with and (in
your own phrase) "knew the man," —
though I question w^hether Damien
would have said that he knew you.
Take it, and observe with wonder how
well you were served by your gossips,
how ill by your intelligence and S3rmpa-

26 yatbec S)amien.

thy; in how many points of fact we
are at one, and how widely our appre-
ciations vary. There is something
wrong here; either with you or me.
It is possible, for instance, that you,
who seem to have so many ears in
Kalawao, had heard of the affair of
Mr. Chapman's money, and were singly
struck by Damien's intended wrong-
doing. I was struck with that also,
and set it fairly down ; but I was struck
much more by the fact that he had the
honesty of mind to be convinced. I
may here tell you that it was a long
business ; that one of his colleagues sat
with him late into the night, multiply-
ing arguments and accusations; that
the Father listened as usual with "per-
fect good nature and perfect obstinacy";
but at the last, when he was persuaded
— "Yes," said he, "I am very much
obliged to you; you have done mc a

■Robert Xouls Stevenson. 27

service; it would have been a theft."
There are many (not CathoHcs merely)
who require their heroes and saints to
be infallible; to these the story will be
painful ; not to the true lovers, patrons,
and servants of mankind.

And I take it, this is a type of our
division: that you are one of those
who have an eye for faults and failures ;
that you take a pleasure to find and
publish them; and that, having found
them, you make haste to forget the
overvailing virtues and the real success
w^hich had alone introduced them to
your knowledge. It is a dangerous
frame of mind. That you may under-
stand how^ dangerous, and into w^hat
a situation it has already brought you,
we will (if you please) go hand-in-hand
through the different phrases of your
letter, and candidly examine each from

28 f atber Damien.

the point of view of its truth, its
appositeness, and its charity.

Damien w^as coarse.

It is very possible. You make us sorry
for the lepers, who had only a coarse
old peasant for their friend and Father,
But you, who were so refined, why
w^ere j-^ou not there to cheer them with
the lights of culture ? Or may I remind
you that we have some reason to doubt
if John the Baptist were genteel; and,
in the case of Peter, on w^hose career
you doubtless dwell approvingly in the
pulpit, no doubt at all that he was a
"coarse, headstrong " fisherman ! Yet,
even in our Protestant Bibles, Peter is
called Saint.

Damien was dirty.

He w^as. Think of the poor lej^ers
annoyed with this dirty comrade ! But
the clean Dr. Hyde was at his food in
a fine house.

Robert Xoutd Stevenson. 29

Damien was headstrong:

I believe you are right again; and I
thank God for his strong head and
heart.

Damien was bigoted.

I am not fond of bigots myself, be-
cause they are not fond of me. But
w^hat is meant by bigotry, that we
should regard it as a blemish in a
priest? Damien believed his own re-
ligion with the simplicity of a peasant
or a child; as I would I could suppose
that you do. For this, I wonder at him
some way off; and had that been his
only character, should have avoided
him in life. But the point of interest in
Damien, which has caused him to be so
much talked about and made him at
last the subject of your pen and mine,
was that, in him, his bigotry, his in-
tense and narrow faith, wrought
potently for good, and strengthened

30 #atber Damien.

him to be one of tlic world's heroes
and exemplars.

Damien was not sent to Molokai,
but went there without orders.

Is this a misreading ? or do you really
mean the words for blame? I have
heard Christ, in the pulpits of our
Church, held up for imitation on the
ground that His sacrifice was volun-
tary. Does Dr. H^'-de think otherwise?

Damien did not stay at the settle-
ment, etc.

It is true he was allowed many in-
dulgences. Am I to understand that
you blame the Father for profiting b}'-
these, or the officers for granting them ?
In either case, it is a mighty Spartan
standard to issue from the house on
Beretania Street; and I am convinced
you will find yourself with few sup-
porters.

I^obert Xouid Stcveneon. 31

Damien bad no hand in the reforms,
etc.

I think even you will admit that I
have already been frank in my descrip-
tion of the man I am defending; but
before I take you up upon this head,
I will be franker still, and tell you that
perhaps nowhere in the world can a
man taste a more pleasurable sense of
contrast than when he passes from Da-
mien's "Chinatown "at Kalawao to the
beautiful Bishop's-Home at Kalaupapa.
At this point, in my desire to make
all fair for you, I will break my rule
and adduce Catholic testimony. Here
is a passage from my diary about my
visit to the Chinatown, from which
you will see how it is (even now^) re-
garded by its own officials: "We went
round all the dormitories, refectories,
etc. — dark and dingy enough, with a
superficial cleanliness, which he" [Mr.

32 ffatbcr JDamien.

Dutton, the lay brother] "did not seek
to defend. *It is almost decent,' said
he ; * the Sisters will make that all right
when w^e get them here.' " And yet 1
gathered it was already better since
Damien was dead, and far better than
when he was there alone and had his
own (not always excellent) way. I
have now come far enough to meet
you on a common ground of fact ; <and
I tell you that, to a mind not prejudiced
by jealousy, all the reforms of the Laza-
retto, and even those w^hicli he most
vigorously opposed, are properly the
w^ork of Damien. Thc}-^ are the evidence
of his success; they iire what his hero-
ism provoked from the reluctant land
the careless. Many were before him in
the field; Mr. Meyer, for instance, of
whose faithful work we hear too little ;
there have been many since ; and «ome
had more worldly wisdom, though none

"Robert Xouis Stevenson. 33

had more devotion, than our saint. Be-
fore his day, even you will confess, they
had effected little. It was his part, by
one striking act of martyrdom, to direct
all men's eyes on that distressful
country. At a blow, and with the
price of his life, he made the place
illustrious and public. And, that, if you
will consider largely, was the one re-
form needful; pregnant of all that
should succeed. It brought money; it
brought (best individual addition of
them all ) the Sisters ; it brought suj)er-
vision, for public opinion and public
interest landed with the man at Kala-
wao. If ever any man brought reforms,
and died to bring them, it w^as he.
There is not a clean cup or tow^el in
the Bishop's - Home but dirty Damien
Avashed it.

Damien was not a pure man in his
relations with w^omen, etc.

34 yatber Damfen.

How do you know that? Is this
the nature of the conversation in that
house on Beretania Street w^hich the
cabman envied, driving past? — racy
details of the misconduct of the poor
peasant priest, toiling imder the cliffs
of Molokai ?

Many have visited the station be-
fore me; they seem not to have heard
the rumor. When I was there I heard
many shocking tales, for my informants
were men speaking with the plainness
of the laity; and I heard plenty of
complaints of Damien. Why was this
never mentioned ? and how came it to
you in the retirement of your clerical
parlor ?

But I must not even seem to deceive
you. This scandal, when I read it in
your letter, was not new to me. I had
heard it once before; and I must tell
you how. There came to Samoa a man

Kobert Xouig Stevenson. 35

from Honolulu; he, in a public-house
on the beach, volunteered the statement
that Damien had "contracted the dis-
ease from having connection with the
female lepers "; and I find a joy in telling
you how the report was welcomed in
a public-house. A man sprang to his
feet; I am not at liberty to give his
name, but from what I heard I doubt
if you would care to have him to dinner
in Beretania Street. "You miserable lit-
tle ," (here is a word I dare not print,

it w^ould so shock your ears). "You

miserable little ," he cried," if the

story were a thousand times true, can't
you see you are a million times a lower

for daring to repeat it?" I wish

it could be told of you that when the
report reached you in your house, per-
haps after family worship, you had
found in your soul enough holy anger
to receive it with the same expressions ;

36 yatbcr Bamicn.

ay, even with that one which I dare
not print; it would not need to have
been blotted awa\', like Uncle Toby's
oath, by the tears of the recording
angel; it would have been counted to
3'ou for your brightest righteousness.
But you have deliberatel}^ chosen the
part of the man from Honolulu, and
3'ou have played it with improvements
of your own. The man from Honolulu
— miserable, leering creature — communi-
cated the tale to a rude knot of beach-
combing drinkers in a public-house,
where (I will so far agree with your
temperance opinions) man is not al-
ways at his noblest; and the man
from Honolulu had himself been drink-
ing—drinking, we ma}' charitably fancy,
to excess. It was to your "Dear
Brother, the Reverend H. B. Gage,"
that you chose to communicate the
sickening storj-; and the blue ribbon

Uobcrt XoulB Stevenson. ^7

which adorns your jDortly bosom for-
bids me to allow you the extenuating
plea that you were drunk when it was
done. Your * ' dear brother ' ' — a brother
indeed — made haste to deliver up your
letter (as a means of grace, perhaps)
to the religious papers; where, after
many months, I found and read and
wondered at it; and whence I have
now reproduced it for the w^onder of
others. And you and your dear brother
have, by this cycle of operations, built
up a contrast very edifying to examine
in detail. The man whom you would
not care to have to dinner, on the one
side; on the other, the Reverend Dr.
Hyde and the Reverend H. B. Gage ; the
Apia bar-room, the Honolulu manse.
But I fear you scarce appreciate how
you appear to your fellowtnen: and
to bring it home to you, I will suppose
your story to be true- I will suppose

38 ^atber iPamien.

— and God forgive me for supposing it
— ^that Damien faltered and stumbled
in his narrow path of duty ; I Avill sup-
pose that, in the horror of his isolation,
perhaps in the fever of incipient disease,
he, who was doing so much more than
he had sworn, failed in the letter of his
priestly oath — he, who was so much a
better man than either you or me, who
did what we have never dreamed of
daring — he too tasted of our common
frailty. " 0 lago, the pity of it ! " The
least tender should be moved to tears;
the most incredulous to prayer. And
all that you could do was to pen your
letter to the Reverend H. B. Gage !

Is it growing at all clear to you what
a picture you have drawn of your own
heart? I will trj-^ yet once again to
make it clearer. You had a father:
suppose this tale were about him, and
some informant brought it to you,

"Robert Xouis Stevenson. 39

proof in hand: I am not making too
high an estimate of your emotional
nature when I suppose you would re-
gret the circumstance ? that you would
feel the tale of frailty the more keenly
since it shamed the author of your
days? and that the last thing you
would do would be to publish it in the
religious press? Well, the man who
tried to do what Damien did is my
Father, and the Father of the man in
the Apia bar, and the Father of all
who love goodness; and he was your
Father, too, if God had given you grace
■♦■'^ see it.

jTartjer 5©amicn.

APRIL, 1S89.

4ftO golden dome shines over Damien's sleep;
J'A A leper's grave upon a leprous strand,
Where hope is dead, and hand must shrink
from hand,
Where cataracts wail towards a moaning deep,
And frowning purple cliffs in mercy keep
All wholesome life at distance, hath God

planned
For him who led his saintly hero band,
And died a shepherd of Christ's exiled sheep.

O'er Damien's dust the broad skies bend for
dome,
Stars burn for golden letters, and the sea
Shall roll perpetual anthem round his rest:
For Damien made the charnel-house life's home,
Matched love with death; and Damien's name
shall be
A glorious l)enediction, world-possest.

H. D. RawnslEY.

^ Companion IBoolk.

~('*ttb« Xcpera of flDolobai," b? Cbarlce "Oaarren StoN>art.)

AVE MARIA PRESS, NOTRE DAME, IND.

"Robert Louis Stevenson's 'Open Letter to
the Rev. Dr. Hyde of Honolulu' has pilloried
the defanter of the martyr for all time"; in
Charles Warren Stoddard's transporting volume,
the prologue to which is here presented, the martyr's
memory is forever hallowed.

prologue.

women following a few silent people,
who were being conducted with decent
haste toward the esplanade of Honolulu.

The miserable beings, with a dazed
look of lingering death in their fearful
countenances, were soon disposed on the
deck of a small outward-bound craft;
and then, in the few moments that inter-
vened between the casting off of the
shoreline and the sudden impulse of
the little steamer as she swung about in
mid-stream, and made bravely for the
mouth of the harbor, the pitiful wail of
men, women and children was renewed.
Those grouped upon the extreme edge
of the wharf were wringing their hands
over the water, while rivers of tears
coursed down their ashen cheeks. The
others, upon the deck of the departing
vessel, brooded for a time as in dull
agony, but anon an unearthly cry rang
over the tranquil sea: it was their long
farewell.

The sun, just touching the horizon,
seemed to pause for a moment, while
the great deep burst into a sheet of
flame; tongues of fire darted and played
among the wavelets as they tossed in

prologue.

the evening breeze; and the broad rays
shot from cloud to cloud, painting them
with glory, and crowning the peaks of
the beautiful island with red-gold. Even
the palm-trees were gilded, and their
plumes glistened as they swayed rhyth-
mically to the low melody of the tide
that ebbed beneath them.

So faded that ill-starred bark like
a mote in the shimmering sea. A few
moments only, and the splendor died
away — the twilight glow of the tropics
is as brief as it is intense — and the sudden
coming of night drew a veil over a picture
that, though frequent, is nevertheless
painful to the least sympathetic observer.

Darkness had come; the silence that
came with it was broken only by the
splash of ripples under the bow of some
passing canoe, or the low moan of the
water upon the distant reef. But the
mourners were still crouching upon the
edge of the dock, whence their eyes had
caught the last glimpse of the fading
forms of those whom they were never
again to behold in the flesh; for those
despairing but unresisting souls, swallowed
up in the transfiguration of the sunset,

prologue.

were lepers, snatched from the breast
of sympathy and from the arms of love,
doomed to the hopeless degradation of
everlasting banishment, and borne in
the night to that dim island whose
melancholy shores are the sole refuge
of these hostages to death: an island
as solitary, as silent, as serene as dream-
land— mournful Molokai.

1

STE\rEKSON, R.L.
Father Damien.

BQX
5151
.377.