LETTER OF FATHER JOSET TO FATHER FOUILLOT
SACRED HEART MISSION, 21st June, 1859.
HAVE just received your kind letter of March 12th, 1858; it was more than a year on the way. I hasten to comply with your request by saying a word as to our labors. The language is the greatest difficulty. One must learn it as best he can. There is no written language, there are no interpreters, there is very little analogy with other tongues. The pronunciation is very harsh, the turn of thought is entirely different from ours. They have no abstract ideas, every thing is concrete. And with these elements it is necessary to create a religious, and even spiritual, phraseology: for the savages know nothing that is not material.
I have been here nearly fifteen years. I am not yet master of the language, and am far from flattering myself with the hope of becoming so. My catechist remarked to me the other day, "You pronounce like a child learning to talk, when you speak of religion, we understand you well; but when you change the subject, it is another thing." That is all I want. I have at last succeeded in translating the catechism. I think it is nearly correct. You can hardly imagine what it cost me to do it. I have been constantly at work at it since my arrival here. I finished it only last winter. Nevertheless, it is very short; it has but fourteen lessons. It is based upon the first part of the Catechism of Lyons, which was in use in the diocese of St. Louis (of which this mission formed a part) upon our arrival. This catechism is printed, not on paper, but on the li memory of the children: they know it all by heart, questions and answers, and they say two lessons of it every day after morning prayer; so that they say the whole of it once a week. The good will of these poor Indians is admirable; I never saw or heard of any thing to equal it. I am never tired of hearing them their catechism; on the contrary, it is my greatest pleasure. Oh, if you could have seen what passed here last winter, how your Reverence would love these poor savages, and how you would pray the Queen of Apostles to send them missionaries. Thirty children made their first communion together, and I cannot even yet think of the manner in which they prepared for it, without emotion.
From the end of November to Palm Sunday, on which day this ceremony took place, they had catechism at the church three times a day, and it was rare that one missed the exercise: besides this there was a repetition, every day, either before the chief or the catechist. Every time that I gave them permission to assemble in my apartment for more ample explanations, they crowded there, remaining in postures of the greatest discomfort for three-quarters of an hour or an hour at a time, without ceasing to give me the utmost attention. They never became weary. There was no end to private recitations among themselves, and little bands would everywhere be found retired and reciting the catechism. When visiting the sick in the evening, I was almost certain to hear, in some tent. or other, groups of children reciting catechism, the more advanced helping the others; and this zeal for instruction increased rather than diminished.
During the month of January, the period of the great deer hunt, the children came to ask my permission to return to their parents: this period is that of harvest with them. How could I refuse them. They were actually suffering with hunger at the Mission; besides, their parents themselves had expressed the desire to see them. "How much holiday do you want?" "Four weeks." "I allow it." It was not too much. I see nothing very surprising in the fact that a boy, after a vacation of two months, may be glad to return to school. Solitude and inaction have become wearisome to him. But the case with my dusky children of the forest is very different. At camp there is no want of occupation or of companions, they have food in abundance, which is rarely the case at the Mission. This year, in particular, the scarcity has been great. Nevertheless, they obtained of their parents the permission to shorten their vacation by one half. With their snow-shoes on their feet, and their bundles on their backs, they made a distance of ten leagues (28 miles English), crossing a mountain covered with a thick forest, over soft snow. You must be on the spot to know what are the fatigues of such a journey. Judge of my surprise when I saw them all enter my room at nightfall, worn out with fatigue, but gay and happy. What motive could induce them to leave the abundance they were enjoying with their parents, to come to the privations of the Mission? I know of no other than their desire to be instructed in order to make their first Communion. They knew well enough that I had nothing to give them but the bread of the Divine Word. For, be it said, by the way, although I give catechism three hundred times a year, I doubt whether there is a catechist in the world more utterly deprived of the means of encouraging his pupils. Some prayer-beads would have been a great reward, but I could give them nothing but a medal to each as a memorial of their first Communion. I was almost tempted to regret my poverty. In Europe there are many pious souls to encourage poor children in like circumstances but here, on the borders of the world, want has no witness but the missionary, who can give it only his sighs. The mines have ruined us, and it is precisely when prices have doubled, that our resources have diminished, so that instead of giving catechism, one is often obliged to rack one's brains to make both ends meet. All that I have said of my dear children is the exact truth, without exaggeration. I am no poet. However, I begin to fear that I shall be reminded of the fable of the owl and the eagle; so, though I have much yet to tell, I will stop here.
However I cannot but beg you, and those to whom you may communicate these lines, to recommend these dear children to our Lady of Fourvieres, that she may obtain for them the gift of perseverance. They are exposed to many dangers. Not to speak of others, strong liquors have already found their way into the neighboring tribes: and I know that the wretches who make it their business thus to ruin the poor savages, boast that our people will not be able to resist the temptation more than the others. If their infernal predictions should be realized, you may see me again one day in Europe.
I do not know to whom to address myself to convey our thanks to the Ladies of the Sacred Heart. We received, some years since, two sets of very fine vestments, for our Church of the Sacred Heart, from some unknown benefactors. I have just learned that the present was from those ladies, but I know not of what House. By the way, no one sees our church without testifying his astonishment. It is entirely the work of the Indians, except the altars. It is a magnificent monument to the faith of the Coeur-d'Alenes, who have given the he to their name by its erection. If it were finished, it would be a handsome church even in Europe. The design is by Father Ravalli. It is 90 feet long by 40 wide. It has 29 pillars, 2 1/2 feet square by 25 feet in height. All the rest is of timber, and in proportion. It was all cut, raised, and roofed by the savages, under the direction of a Father; they also filled it in, and built the foundation-walls, which are from two to five feet high, and of proportionate thickness. The Indians brought the stones from a distance of eight hundred feet, did all the mason work, and would accept no recompense. It is a great grief to us that we cannot finish it. There are two fine altars, with handsome pictures of the Sacred Heart and of the Blessed Virgin, but all the rest is naked, without doors, windows, or flooring, and not being framed in on the outside, I fear it will rot before it is completed. The neophytes have done their best: but in the absence of resources, we cannot continue the work.