Father Damien: An Open Letter to the Reverend Dr. Hyde of Honolulu

In Short

This book is a blistering, polemical essay written as an open letter to the Reverend Dr. C. M. Hyde of Honolulu. It serves as an impassioned rebuttal to Hyde’s private letter, in which he slandered Father Damien, the Catholic priest who sacrificed his life to care for lepers on the island of Molokai. By dissecting Hyde’s petty accusations and contrasting them against the visceral reality of the leper colony, the author champions the complexity of a flawed, heroic life. It remains a powerful masterclass in moral indignation and the art of the literary takedown.

The Story

The narrative begins with a sharp declaration of war. The author, having read a disparaging letter written by the Reverend Dr. Hyde regarding the late Father Damien, decides that the time for civil reticence has passed. He establishes his stance: while he does not claim Damien was a flawless saint, he argues that the priest’s humanity was far more noble than the cold, comfortable arrogance of his critics. He introduces the letter itself, in which Hyde dismisses Damien as a “coarse, dirty man” and claims his life and death were a result of personal vice rather than holy service.

The author proceeds to dismantle these claims one by one. He paints a stark picture of the leper settlement at Kalawao, describing his own visit to the “distressful country” of Molokai. He recounts the horrors of the place—the deformities, the stench, and the isolation—to demonstrate that Damien’s choice to inhabit such a hell was an act of profound courage that no armchair critic could ever comprehend. He argues that even if the reforms on the island were not solely Damien’s handiwork, the priest’s presence and eventual death were the catalysts that forced the world to notice and care, ultimately bringing the resources and sympathy required to improve the lot of the suffering.

The narrative arc reaches its peak when the author addresses the most heinous of Hyde’s claims: that Damien’s leprosy was the product of sexual misconduct. The author contrasts the gossiping, sheltered life of the clergy in Honolulu with the reality of the beach-combing drinkers in a bar, noting with biting irony that even a common drunkard displayed more moral clarity than the reverend by refusing to entertain such slander. He posits that even if Damien had faltered in his human weakness, it would be a matter for tears and prayer, not for the gleeful publication of gossip.

The story concludes with a final, devastating assessment of Hyde’s character. The author suggests that Hyde’s rage was born of a secret, gnawing envy—the realization that while he sat in a prosperous manse, Damien had performed the service that the church had failed to provide. He leaves the reader with a portrait of a man who traded his own honor to throw stones at a martyr, and in doing so, effectively destroyed his own legacy while cementing Damien’s.

How It Unfolds

The gauntlet is thrown The author acknowledges a former acquaintance with Dr. Hyde but declares it voided by the cruelty of the reverend's letter. He asserts that the public interest demands that both the slanderer and the slandered be displayed in their true colors.

The anatomy of a smear The text quotes Hyde’s letter in full, highlighting the petty, bureaucratic, and unsubstantiated nature of the charges against Damien. The author prepares to analyze these claims from both human and divine perspectives.

The contrast of homes The author notes the contrast between his own perspective and the life of comfort led by the missionaries in Honolulu. He argues that those who live in "pleasant rooms" have no right to cast stones at a man who lived and died in a "pigsty."

The reality of the lazaretto The author provides a harrowing, first-hand description of the leper settlement, emphasizing the sensory horror of the place. He uses this to illustrate the sheer, impossible scale of the task Damien undertook when he "shut-to with his own hand the doors of his own sepulchre."

The evidence of the diary The author excerpts his own private journals, which include criticisms of Damien’s personality and administrative failures. By presenting these objectively, he proves that he is not blinded by a "wax abstraction" of a saint, but rather sees the man as he truly was.

The final judgment The argument closes by forcing the reader to compare the moral state of a priest who gave everything against a minister who gave nothing but slander. The author concludes that Hyde has, by his own hand, ensured he will only be remembered as the foil to the man he sought to destroy.

The People

Father Damien serves as the central, though absent, protagonist. He is described as a man of the peasant class: headstrong, occasionally officious, and prone to poor hygiene and administrative errors. Yet, the author argues these flaws are precisely what make his ultimate sacrifice of life, comfort, and health so profoundly heroic and human.

Dr. C. M. Hyde acts as the antagonist and the embodiment of institutional inertia. He is a man of status and property, living in comfort while his neighbors suffer. His motivation is presented as a mixture of professional jealousy and a desire to minimize the failures of his own sect by belittling the man who stepped in where they would not. By the end of the text, he is transformed from a respected clergyman into a symbol of moral decay.

The "Man from Honolulu" appears briefly as a catalyst for the author's moral outrage. A denizen of a beach-side bar, he attempts to spread the same slander as Hyde, only to be rebuked by a stranger who finds the gossip beneath human decency. This vignette forces the reader to acknowledge that, in this instance, the "rude" man possesses a higher standard of honor than the reverend, creating a sharp moral hierarchy that leaves Hyde at the very bottom.

In Its Own Voice

"If I have at all learned the trade of using words to convey truth and to arouse emotion, you have at last furnished me with a subject."

The author acknowledges that Hyde’s malicious letter has provided the perfect, albeit infuriating, inspiration for his writing.

"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 succours the afflicted, and consoles the dying, and is himself afflicted in his turn, and dies upon the field of honour--the battle cannot be retrieved as your unhappy irritation has suggested."

This line encapsulates the core conflict between the comfortable, judgmental clergy and the active, self-sacrificing martyr.

"The truth that is suppressed by friends is the readiest weapon of the enemy."

The author explains why he chooses to include his own critical notes about Damien’s failings, arguing that honesty is the only way to build a credible, lasting defense.

What It's Really About

This work is a defense of imperfect heroism. It argues that a saint does not need to be a celestial, flawless being, but rather a human who transcends their own limitations to serve others. Beneath the specific historical dispute lies a broader inquiry into the nature of institutional malice: how the prosperous and the "respectable" often use the language of morality to tear down those who remind them of their own cowardice. The text asks whether it is better to be a "clean" man who does nothing, or a "dirty" man who gives his life for his fellows. It is a fierce critique of the gap between the profession of faith and the practice of empathy.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate sharp, polemical prose will find this book exhilarating. It feels less like a historical document and more like a live, intellectual brawl. The author’s voice is remarkably modern—cynical toward institutions, yet deeply reverent toward genuine sacrifice. There is a palpable, thrumming energy in the writing that rarely lets up, making it a quick but intense read.

However, a contemporary reader should be prepared for the specific context of the late 19th century. The author’s language reflects the period’s colonial attitudes, and he uses the term "Kanaka" (referring to native Hawaiians) in a way that, while intended to be sympathetic to the marginalized, carries the unavoidable baggage of 1890s racial hierarchies. The text also assumes a certain level of familiarity with Christian missionary history in Hawaii, though the author’s passionate explanation of the conflict keeps the reader well-oriented.

What lingers after reading is the author’s devastating interrogation of the "moral" person. He forces you to look at your own comfort and ask whether you would have been the one in the pleasant house, or the one on the island. It is a haunting study in how the urge to tear down others is often just a mirror reflecting our own failures.