Deck and port /

by Walter Colton

Sunday, June 21. I exchanged with Mr. Damon this morning; he officiating on board the Congress, while I took his place in the Seamen’s chapel. The frigate had the advantage in the arrangement, but I intend to look out for my floating parish. In the afternoon I was, by appointment, in the pulpit of the king’s chapel. The spacious edifice was crowded. His majesty, the court, and chiefs were present, and an auditory of some three thousand. They had assembled under the vague expectation that Commodore Stockton might address them, for a report to that effect, without the commodore’s knowledge, had been circulated through the town. I felt, in common with the missionaries, a desire that they should not be disappointed. But as the commodore was wholly unprepared, and averse to any arrangements that might seemingly trench upon proprieties, it was no easy matter to have their wishes realized.

Backed by the Rev. Mr. Armstrong, I made a bold push, and, having addressed the audience for half an hour, through him as interpreter, on the religious enterprises in our own country, which were throwing their light and influence into other lands, stated that I was aware of their desire that Commodore Stockton should address them, and that I would take the liberty of expressing the hope that he would gratify their wishes. He was sitting at the time by the side of the king; and while the choir were singing a hymn, Mr. Armstrong descended from the pulpit and urged with him the public expectation. He finally assented, and taking the platform under the pulpit, commenced a train of pertinent and eloquent remarks.

He spoke of the previous condition of those around him,—of the dark and cruel rites in which their ancestors were involved,—of the humanizing and elevating influences of that Christianity which had reached them,—of the philanthropy, faith, and devotedness of their missionaries,—of the destruction of nations where the true God was disowned, and of the stability of governments and institutions founded on the precepts and moral obligations of the Bible. He adjured them, by all the hopes and fears which betide humanity, to persevere in their great and good work of social, civil, and moral improvement. He urged upon them systematic industry, wholesome rules and regulations in their domestic economy, a respect for law and order, the advantages of education, the importance of the Sabbath-school system, the necessity of temperance; and assured them, that in all their good endeavors they would have the sympathy and support of the Christian world.

Such was the tenor of his remarks, which were delivered with as much freedom and force as if they had been well-considered and arranged. Their effect was obvious in the eager attention which pervaded the great assemblage. At the conclusion, the king and the chiefs came up, and, with undisguised emotion, thanked the commodore for his address. The commodore may win laurels on the deck, but none that can bloom more lastingly than these. If there be consolations in death, they flow from efforts made and triumphs won in the cause of humanity and God.

Monday, June 22. The forcible introduction of the Roman Catholic faith into these islands was artfully disguised under the plea of religious toleration. The manifesto of La Place, acting under the authority of the French cabinet, sets forth, that, “Among civilized nations there is not one which does not permit in its territory the free toleration of all religions:” therefore he demands, under the batteries of his frigate, that the Roman Catholic faith shall have ample scope and verge here.

The basis of this demand is an assumption, contradicted by the most glaring facts. In countries no further removed than Chili and Peru, the organic laws of the land declare that “no religion except the Roman Catholic shall be tolerated;” and these laws are enforced. So much for universal toleration, in those countries where that religion is predominant, which La Place comes here, under the sanction of his government, to shoot down into the consciences of this people. A very expeditious mode this of making converts, and quite consonant with the theological tactics of a military propagandist. If you cannot reason your religion into a man, why, shoot it into him. You may, it is true, in doing this shoot his life out; but what of that, if you shoot your creed in. A dead man with your creed in him, is perhaps better than a living one without it.

This demand of La Place was accompanied by another, which would disparage the most petty prince in Christendom. It required the Hawaiian king to place on board the French frigate twenty thousand dollars, as a guarantee that Roman Catholic priests shall in future be undisturbed in propagating their faith. These priests, it was well known, were Jesuits, belonging to an order which France herself was at the time endeavoring to suppress. Perhaps she intended the Sandwich Islands as a sort of Botany Bay for these men, whom state policy had proscribed from her own soil. They had given the French monarch trouble enough, and it was time his Hawaiian majesty should take his turn.

Another demand, forced under the disguise of a treaty, was that French brandies should be admitted into all the Hawaiian ports, with only a duty of five cents on the gallon. It seemed to be thought that this liquor, among all its other wonderful achievements, would promote Christian charity, and open the way for the Jesuits among the natives. Brandy is good in cases of colic, but I never before heard of it as a specific against the evils of religious intolerance. But the French are a very sagacious people; and if they have found in it an antidote to bigotry, they ought not to be deprived of the honor and advantage of the discovery.

All these demands of the French government were compulsorily complied with under the batteries of an armed ship. The king had no alternative; he must either submit, or suffer Honolulu to be levelled with the ground, and its helpless inhabitants driven into the mountains. On the one hand lay rapine and massacre; on the other, Jesuits and brandy. Of the two evils, the king submitted to the latter. Mahomet propagated his religion with the sword; but he did not force on those whom he subjugated the elements of intoxication. It was reserved for the French, it seems, to discover this new ally, and give to shame its last blush.

The American missionaries were arraigned, and denounced by the French, on the charge of having stimulated the king and regent of the Hawaiian islands to measures of hostility against the introduction of the Roman Catholic faith. This accusation is met and annihilated by the well-known fact, that they who came here to preach that faith were supplied by these very missionaries with the books through which they obtained a knowledge of the native language. Fanatics, filled with intolerance, never supply their opponents with the means of propagating their faith. They may surround them with fagots, but never with books.