THE ELYSÉE, FROM THE FAUBOURG ST. HONORÉ.
Some of the yearly customs on fête days in Paris are peculiar, and those occurring in the winter season are less familiar than others—to English visitors. New Year’s Day, the “Jour de l’an,” is kept as a National Holiday, and presents of flowers and “objets d’art” are sent amongst friends. Christmas Day is not kept with the like solemnity and joyousness as with us—though becoming more a fête than it formerly was. Upon New Year’s Day beggars are allowed in the streets, and it is often a ghastly spectacle to see the poor creatures in all conditions of deformity asking alms. A good deal is distributed amongst them, as the French are very charitable to the Poor. At this season “booths” are allowed on the Boulevards, when all sorts of toys, etc., are exposed for sale, some of them mechanical and very ingenious. They are supposed for the most part to have been made in the homes of the poor.
Shrove Tuesday (Mardi-gras) and Mid-Lent (Mi-carême) are also general holidays. On the former there is a procession of fat cattle, and a throwing of confetti in the main streets and Boulevards, where vehicular traffic is suspended. I have seen the Grand Boulevards literally six inches deep in confetti on a fine day. Mi-carême is marked by a procession of the washerwomen, and in many particulars resembles our Lord Mayor’s Show on November 9th, only it is more fantastic. The Grand Car on these occasions is reserved for the Queen of the Laundries, who has been solemnly chosen for her beauty. She rides triumphant, surrounded by her “Court”—sometimes rather scantily dressed for the cold weather, and stops at the Elysée, where she generally receives a present of a bracelet at the hands of the President of the Republic. These functions are well worth seeing—once.
The National Fête, to celebrate the declaration of the Republic, being in warmer weather (July), is usually more of a festival in the open-air, and is kept up late and early. Many families leave Paris for the country before it comes off. It is emphatically the people’s fête, and one feature of it is that dancing is allowed in the streets. Bandstands are erected, usually opposite a restaurant, and in the evenings people gather in large numbers. Inmates of flats near these bandstands suffer much (I write from experience), for being the hot weather windows must be open, and the noise is deafening.
“All Souls’” and “All Saints’” Days are religiously kept by most Parisians, and thousands go to the cemeteries to place flowers on the graves of their relations. It is a very interesting sight, and visitors to Paris should not omit on these days to go to Père-la-Chaise, Passy, Bolougne-sur-Seine, or one of the other cemeteries.
The French pay great respect to the dead. No funeral cortège is allowed to trot in Paris whatever the distance to the cemetery, and most men raise their hats and women cross themselves as the body passes in the streets. Soldiers and officials always salute.
Burials are a monopoly in Paris. The Pompes funèbres is a great company, who have decorations arranged and always ready for every church in Paris, and everyone is buried by them, and in the “class” they choose to pay for. There are seven or eight “classes,” and it is so arranged that the rich pay for the poor. A first-class funeral is very rare, as it costs a very large sum. Officials attend the poor man’s funeral—only less gorgeously dressed—equally with the rich, and all things are done decently and in order. As a sign of the times, not long before I left Paris, I was called upon to take a funeral of an American at St. Germain, some miles outside the fortifications. The family and friends went down by train, and I went with the body, but in a motor-fourgon (hearse). When we left the gates of the city we travelled very rapidly.
I noticed a marked change during my life in Paris in the keeping of Sunday. Twenty years ago many shops were open, and there was little to distinguish it from any other day. Now most places of business are closed. Leagues were formed some years ago, advocating one day’s rest in seven, and quite lately (1907) a law was passed requiring that all employés should cease work on Sunday. Those compelled to work on that day (in restaurants, etc.) must have another day. Alas! the change is not due to a religious but a secular movement, and is solely to oblige one day’s rest in the seven as a holiday. As far as it goes it is a good thing for the people, and it is pleasant to see the orderly crowds enjoying the open air in the Bois, the Parc Monceau, and other places, while one regrets the irreligion which is so characteristic of the nation at this time.
The well-known Mark Twain (Mr. Clements) came to Paris to complete (so I understood) one of his books. No one knew of his presence amongst us for some time. When I heard of it I went to see him in his hotel in the Rue de Rivoli to ask him to give a public reading from his works for the benefit of the proposed Church House. He put me off in his characteristic way. I then went to see the Marquis of Dufferin and Ava—our Ambassador at that time—and asked him if he would give a room at the Embassy if I could persuade Mark Twain to read. He kindly agreed, and so did Mr. Clements. We had a splendid success, the rooms were crowded. We obtained twenty francs a ticket, and cleared some £200. American humour is sometimes difficult for English people to appreciate, but no one could resist Mark Twain. I shall always feel grateful to him for his kind help on that occasion.
Among the many artists it was our privilege to know in Paris was the eminent sculptor, Mr. Bruce Joy. He had then a studio in the city. We still possess a replica of his well-known bust of the late Archbishop Benson.
Paris is a city which might well be compared to the Adulamites Cave, where all in distress and difficulty congregate. Among the unfortunates was the late Oscar Wilde. I had known him a little in Dublin as a student, and had also met him at Lady Wilde’s receptions. He came to Paris to die. When I heard of his serious illness I went down at once to enquire, but found he had passed away. The “concierge” told me that he had been visited by a Priest, and baptized into the Roman Church. As is often the case, the Baptism was administered when the patient was “in extremis,” and knew nothing about it. The Roman Church, however, claimed to take the funeral, and I could not object.
Curious mistakes were sometimes made by the French Postal authorities, owing to the difficulty of language. Each Easter it was my custom to send out a card to the members of the congregation giving notice of the services, and at the foot a suitable quotation from the Scriptures. In 1895, I sent out the card as usual, and the passage was “The Lord is Risen.” One came back to me through the dead-letter office addressed to “The Lord is Risen, 5 Rue d’Aguesseau.”
All sorts of ideas and rumours were circulated when the French Church was separated from the State. One morning a French gentleman called at the Vestry and asked me if it was true that Sir Francis Bertie, our present Ambassador in Paris, had purchased the Madeleine Church, our own being too small! This is somewhat parallel to the story of an Irish clergyman, who told me that the day after the bill passed to disestablish the Church in Ireland he heard in the early morning a scythe going in his field. A stranger was cutting his hay. Upon enquiry, the man said: “Sure, sir, the Church is disestablished now, and I thought I would come early for my share!”
The French often make curious mistakes in their translations into English, but the same may be said, and perhaps more so, with respect to our renderings into French, e.g., A young English girl was heard to exclaim “Je suis cheval,” desiring to say she was hoarse. And another, who had a touch of the same complaint, “Je ne peux pas hirondèle,” meaning she could not swallow. Upon another occasion, when called to play in public, a girl said “Je suis sûre de casser-en-bas,” in her fear of coming to grief. It was rather a peculiar way to express hurry, when one said “Je suis dans une dépèche.” I suppose most have heard the story told by Dean Pigou, of Bristol, of the lady (I believe an American) who, desiring a cab, called out “Cochon êtes-vous fiancé.” Another story, which was current in my time, is worth repeating. A girl who had been but a few months in Paris learning French was taken out by her parents to a restaurant. Looking over the menu, she was asked to translate the sentence “Ris de Veau à la financière,” which she told her delighted parents was “the calf laughs at the Banker’s wife.” Many of such mistakes arise when young people are placed in French families where no English is spoken at all, and so their errors pass uncorrected.
Among the remarkable men who lived and died in Paris during my chaplaincy was Mr. H. A. M. Butler-Johnstone. He had been for sixteen years Member of Parliament for Canterbury, and as a youth was at Eton, at the same time as His Majesty King Edward. He was closely identified with the young Turkey party in Paris. He was on his way to the Post Office in October, 1902, when he died suddenly in the street near the Place Vendome. He was staying with his wife at the Hotel Continental, but there being no funds, his funeral was undertaken by the British Charitable Fund. I conducted his funeral, which was attended by quite a number of the Turkish Colony in Paris. It was said that his financial ruin was caused by his having lent £200,000 to the Turkish Government in 1877 to resist the encroachments of Russia. To raise this sum he sold his pictures to the National Gallery, as well as his estates in England. It was said that he gave great offence to the late Marquis of Salisbury by the attitude he took up on the Russo-Turkish War.
In January, 1907, there was a remarkable gathering of eighty-six Prelates of the Roman Church in Paris to discuss the attitude of the Church towards the recently passed “Law of Separation.” What seemed the more remarkable was that the gathering was held at the Château de la Muette Passy, the residence of the Count and Countess de Francqueville, and that the Countess presided at the lunch, she being a member of the Anglican Communion. The Countess, as is well known, is the daughter of the Earl of Selbourne, and niece of the late Bishop of Southwell.
PLACE DE LA CONCORDE.
THE HISTORIC FOUNTAIN, PLACE DE LA CONCORDE.
The concierge or hall porter occupies a responsible position in the Paris house. A common answer to the question “Is life worth living?” is—it depends upon the concierge. There is no doubt that a disagreeable concierge can make things very uncomfortable, and it is necessary when taking an “appartement” to gain his goodwill by a good tip. Otherwise letters which are delivered at the lodge may not be brought up as soon as they should be, and other little annoyances will frequently occur. It is customary to give 50 to 100 francs to the concierge on New Year’s day, according to the rent paid, to secure civility and good service through the year. The concierge is the servant of the proprietor and not of the tenant. Every quarter the rent is paid to the concierge, and must be paid in cash. The cheque system as we have it in England is but little used in France.
When I handed a cheque for my first quarter’s rent to the concierge he looked at it, and said “What is this?” I was compelled to go down to the Bank and get the money for him!
In taking an appartement (or flat) in Paris, the greatest care is necessary. The “etat de lieu” or state of the flat must be taken both by the architect of the landlord and your own. A document is drawn up, and signed by both parties. Unless this is done all sorts of charges may be made when the tenant leaves the flat, as, e.g., for every nail in the walls or floors, every scratch on the paint, etc. I bought my experience rather expensively in one of the flats I occupied.
Owing, it is said, to the lack of population, the law as to nationality presses hard upon some foreigners in France. The law at present is that “all children of parents born in France are French,” and male children thus born are liable for military service. I knew several young men who were thoroughly English, and who had always kept up their connection with England and the English Colony in France, who, nevertheless, owing to the fact that their parents were born in the country, were accounted French, and had to go through their military service, and were liable to be called up in time of war. It has naturally followed that when an interesting event is expected in a British family, and where it can be managed, a temporary change to the English climate has become desirable. But this law presses very hardly upon the poor.
I am often asked as to whether it is more expensive to live in Paris than in London. My experience is that London is the dearer city. In Paris almost everyone lives in a flat, where it is not necessary to keep so many servants as a house requires. Wages are about the same; but servants in France are much more economical than in England. Food is dearer as it is mostly taxed—the exception being fruit and vegetables, which come into Paris free of duty. Wine of home culture is now exempt. Coal is very expensive, being generally over £2 a ton; but then less is used, as the houses in the best parts of the city are generally warmed. There is, however, no income tax in France, and the municipal taxes are much less—about one-half what they are in London. But the days when people would go to Paris to largely economise are past; both capitals are expensive for the upper and middle classes.
The carte telegram or “Petit bleu” is an advantage in Paris which one misses much in London. This is a system by which a letter written on a special form, which can be sealed and posted in a special box, with a threepenny stamp, will be delivered in the city, by means of pneumatic tubes, within an hour. It is a great convenience, and largely used by Parisians.
The post offices, however, often afford a trying experience. The officials seem in no hurry to attend to the customers, and there is no appeal. They do not seem to consider themselves the servants of the public in any way, and so the public suffer. The “Bureaux de Post” are frequently badly ventilated, so that a long delay is not always agreeable.
A Paper read at the Yarmouth Church Congress, October 2nd, 1907.
I ventured to accept the proposal that I should speak to you to-day upon the ground that I had been for the past sixteen years chaplain in Paris, with certain opportunities for gathering some information upon the subject before us.
What I have to say will naturally refer chiefly to France, which during the past few years has been passing—with somewhat grim silence—through a bloodless Revolution.
The long story, of which the present condition of religious life in that country is the sequel, has been as to its earlier stages so ably dealt with by the previous speaker that I will not occupy your time by a further reference to it.
To come to recent events. During the years 1897-1900 France was stirred to its depths over the Dreyfus “affaire.” It was in the air—everyone talked about it, and the controversy was full of bitterness. The policy of the Ultramontane party with respect to this question can only be described as deplorable. At any cost this unfortunate Jew must be proved guilty, apparently with the hope that thus feeling would be stirred up in the country against all Jews, and non-Roman Catholics, and the Church come again into the favour she was fast losing. The reaction that came when it was seen that a great blunder had been made was remarkable; and there was considerable irritation against those who had, it was felt, deceived the people. Yet there are some in France who still would have us believe that Dreyfus is guilty! The country had been steadily becoming indifferent to religion, but that indifference was largely changed into open hostility in the reaction after the exposures which were made in this “affaire,” which had indeed brought the country perilously near civil war.
It was in the year 1900 that the French Government took action against the Augustinians, or Assumptionists. Hitherto the “Orders” had been treated with more or less of indifference, but at this time the country woke up to the fact that this body was publishing a newspaper (“The Croix”), which was acquiring a leading position so far as circulation was concerned. In every café, in every village, it had its agents; and while acting under the cloak of religion—the crucifix being printed on the front page, with a representation of the “flag of the Sacred Heart”—it was really a political organ—its object was revolutionary—and aimed at the existing Government. It is only fair, however, to say that this organ, while largely used, was never officially sanctioned by the Church. The Government becoming aware of the danger promptly seized the press, suppressed the Order of the Assumptionists, and proceeded to further measures. M. Clemenceau showed, in an able speech, that in very many cases these so-called religious orders were nothing else than huge trading establishments, some of which had made great fortunes by the manufacture of wines and liqueurs, and that a considerable amount of “sweating” was practised by those in authority over them.
In 1901, M. Waldeck Rousseau being Prime Minister, the “Associations Bill” was brought into the Chamber of Deputies. This Bill required all congregations to be authorized. Existing congregations were to obtain authorization, and no new ones could be formed without this authority. The Bill was no doubt aimed chiefly at the various “orders,” several of which were not authorized, as, e.g., the Jesuits and the Dominicans. Desperate efforts were made in the Chamber to defeat the Government, but the Bill was carried by 303 votes to 224. Soon after this, M. Waldeck Rousseau retired, nominating M. Combes as his successor.
In 1902 the elections were held, and the Government “went to the country” upon the Associations Bill. Contrary to the expectations of the Ultramontane party, and showing how rapidly it was losing its hold upon the people, the elections were decidedly in favour of the Government. M. Combes, in the same year, suppressed 127 establishments (monasteries and convents) which were not authorized. Many thought he acted with undue severity, and disturbances took place in various parts. It has, however, to be remembered that with the Government it was a struggle for life, and as a leading statesman expressed it, “The religious orders are a State within a State, and capable of undermining the most solid edifice raised by a most united people.” M. Combes has frequently said that he had no intention at this time of going so far as to propose the breaking of the Concordat—not that he objected to it, but he did not believe that the country was ripe for it. The somewhat extraordinary action of the Vatican, and the support of the Government by the people, carried him on.
An event took place soon after which accentuated the friction between the Government and the Vatican. M. Loubet (President of the Republic) had decided to pay an official visit to the King of Italy. This was considered an insult to the Vatican, which had for a long time endeavoured to keep France and Italy apart. Protest was made to the French Government, and every engine of diplomacy used to arrange a visit to the Pope before the audience with the King of Italy. M. Loubet and the Government refused to be dictated to, and as M. Combes put it in a speech subsequently made, “We will not allow the Papacy to intermeddle in our international relationships, and we intend to have done once for all with the fiction of the Temporal Power.” This sounds very much like the sentence in our own Constitution: “The Pope of Rome hath no jurisdiction in this realm of England.”
The mass of the people—with whom M. Loubet was popular—sided with the Government, and the gulf was made a little wider.
Following this incident came the case of the two Bishops, Mgr. le Nordez, Bishop of Dijon, and Mgr. Geay, Bishop of Laval. These two ecclesiastics were accused of certain crimes against morality, and of Freemasonry. The excitement was widespread, and eventually the bishops were summoned to Rome. In conformity with the terms of the Concordat, they informed the French Government of this order, who forbid them to leave the country, as the summons was irregular. From this time a battle began between the Vatican and the French Government, until at length the two bishops yielded, and went to Rome to be tried, and eventually resigned their bishoprics. This was regarded as a great triumph for the Ultramontane party.
But what followed caused considerable consternation, for on July 29th of that year the Papal Nuncio was informed by M. Delcasse that there was no need for him to remain longer in France. I shall not soon forget the excitement in Paris at this decided step. Parliament, however, approved of what had been done, and thus the way was prepared for the breaking of the “golden chain” of the Concordat, and the final rupture with the Vatican. Great events followed with striking rapidity.
On December 9th, 1905, the law was passed severing the connection between Church and State, which was completed on March 16th, 1906, by the “Reglement d’Administration publique.” It was legislation for which the country had proved to be ripe.
The series of events which I have briefly referred to had hastened the crisis. No greater mistake could be made than to imagine it was merely a political measure arising from irritation. It was inevitable—it was but the “registration of an existing fact.”
Moreover, the Bill itself was much more generous and favourable than it might have been, and is not rightly described as “persecution.” It is no doubt anti-clerical, but that does not mean that it is altogether anti-religious. In the Chamber of Deputies the other day the Abbé Lemire could say that “he believed in the sincerity of those who say they wished to make the law of separation a law of liberty and toleration, as well for the Church as for the State.”
The first article of the Bill reads thus: “The Republic assures liberty of conscience and guarantees the free practise of religion subject only to the restrictions hereinafter enacted, in the interest of public order.”
The second article says: “The Republic neither recognises nor salaries nor subsidises any religion”—in future budgets “all expenses connected with the practise of religions” would be omitted, and public religious establishments would be suppressed. Provision is, however, made for the continued services of chaplains in public institutions, a provision which shows an absence of an altogether anti-religious bias in the Bill.
The ceasing of grants for religious services means, of course, an enormous loss to the Roman Church, and a proportionate loss to the Protestant and Jewish Churches also. It is a credit to the Roman Church that this financial loss has not been represented as the chief grievance.
The articles 3 and 4 in the Bill have been those most bitterly opposed by the Ultramontane party. The former required an “inventory” to be made of all Church property, which was then to be transferred to the “Associations Cultuelles,” who were to hold it in the future as “representatives of the religion which has now the use of it.” The taking of this “inventory” was made the occasion of considerable disturbance. In Paris this was especially so at the Church of S. Clothilde, where there was a free fight. The names of the arrested, however, clearly showed that the demonstration was political rather than religious, and engineered mainly by the Royalist party. There is also another fact not generally known, and that is, that the opportunity was being taken by dealers from Paris and London to purchase valuable plate and pictures from the Churches throughout the country, substituting for them others of little value, and the Government was really protecting Church property by taking these inventories.
By article 4 the “Association Cultuelles” were to receive the property as being representatives of the “Religion that now has the use of it.” These associations were to be formed in every parish, the members forming it being proportionate to the population. The priests might be members, and would in most cases nominate the other members.
Thus it would seem a door was open by which a “modus vivendi” might have been arranged between the Vatican and the State. The French bishops realized this, and at their first meeting decided to accommodate themselves to the law. They were convinced by a majority of twenty-two that it would be possible to form associations which, “without violating the separation law, would maintain the essential rights of the Church, her Divine constitution, and her hierarchy.” But the Vatican would not consent.
Later, the Archbishop of Besancon proposed a scheme for the formation of “Associations Canonique,” which, according to the Abbé Houtin, was approved by the bishops by 56 votes against 18. This scheme was also rejected, the Pope declaring that he would not permit their trial “so long as he had no certain and legal guarantee that the Divine constitution of the Church, the immaculate rights of the Roman Pontiff and the Bishops, and their authority over the necessary property of the Church (particularly over the sacred edifices) would be irrevocably and fully assured by the said associations.” So came a deadlock—on all points the Vatican had refused compliance with the new law, and practically declared war against the Government. With apparently a real desire to meet the difficulty, the Government fell back temporarily upon the law of 1881, which required a simple declaration to be made of the intention to hold Divine service, this declaration being only necessary once a year. This proposal was under discussion at the famous meeting of the French Bishops at La Muette, Paris, in January of this year. We gather from reliable sources that there was a disposition on the part of the bishops to accept this solution of the difficulty, when a telegram was received from the Vatican forbidding it.
Thus we arrive at the present state of the religious question in France. The Church is separated from the State—the Papal Nuncio has been banished from France, the bulk of the people are only nominal adherents of the Church, and they love to have it so.
It must be evident to most who have followed this controversy that Rome has herself fledged the arrow which has brought her down. For a long time she has been losing her hold upon the people, so that to-day, out of thirty-nine millions in the country, it is calculated that only four to five millions are devout adherents of the Papacy. This fact it is that accounts for the absence of any serious uprising during this momentous change which has so recently taken place.
Mr. F. Harrison relates his impressions during a late visit to France in the “Nineteenth Century” for August, and says:—“Of the great religious struggle not a trace was to be seen.… I entered the churches and attended the services at all hours, and was almost always alone. In Notre Dame, in Paris, on Trinity Sunday last there were fifty-two women and twenty-five men.” He adds, “The State was only concerned with the overthrow of a great political conspiracy; there was no trace of a great religious struggle, because none took place.”
Visitors to Paris during the season may get a very erroneous impression as to the true state of religious life. A few of the leading churches may be filled, e.g., the Madeleine, S. Sulpice, S. Clothilde, and some others, but one has to take into account the fact that Paris is much under-churched for the population, and that many of those attending in the season are from the provinces, and, I am sorry to say, some English Churchpeople. So with regard to Sunday. A great change has taken place in France. Visitors of twenty years ago will remember that the shops in Paris were for the most part open, but now they are very generally closed. It would, however, be a mistake to suppose that this change arose from a religious feeling. It is rather that France had decided to keep one day in seven for pure pleasure, and Sunday has been chosen as the most convenient day. The theatres and other amusements are open, and thronged as before.
During the last sixteen years—with the exception of the monumental building upon the hill of Montmartre, I never saw any important new church in building, or heard of one being erected.
And what is the reason of this state of things, from which we as a Church may gather some lessons? They are many. Rome in France, as in other countries, is rather a political than a religious system. She was involved more than was generally known in the Dreyfus affair. The banished Orders were sowing the seeds of disloyalty to the Republic. S. Cyr (the military school) was largely under the influence of the Jesuits, who are not Republicans, and the struggle had to come. “France is democratic and progressive. In spite of eminent exceptions, the Roman Catholic body has offered a sullen and stubborn opposition to economic and social reform. It reaps what it has sown.” And this is an object-lesson to ourselves. Now the attitude of the nation towards Roman Catholicism is one of distrust and aversion. A Church—a clergy—these, though he may not personally use them—the average Frenchman will have. But what he will not have at any price is a Government influenced by priests—a Roman Catholic “party”—or the intervention of Rome, secret or avowed, in French politics. The fact is that Rome has asked the people to believe too much, and they have ended by believing very little. It is a sad spectacle. But what has the Church offered to combat the growing materialism of the country? Only the poor substitute of superstition, such as is manifested at Lourdes and other places. This and the Dreyfus affair, and the scandal connected with the name of Leo Taxil, have done much in late years to alienate thinking Frenchmen from religion.
Again, the selling of the offices and sacraments has in Paris at least been practised to an extraordinary extent. Before the separation, I have known of as much as £1,000 being paid for the services at a “rich” funeral. £80 to £100 was a common fee for marriages and funerals, and large offerings were expected at baptisms. Since the passing of the Bill the Archbishop of Paris has ordered that marriages and funerals should only be taken in a low “class,” where the fees are comparatively moderate. But I am credibly informed that it is expected that an “offering” will be given to the officiating priest equal to what was formerly charged. This relates, of course, only to the wealthier class, from whom the complaints have been deep if not loud.
And what is the outcome of all this? Here you have a dissatisfied priesthood, especially as to the younger men; it is calculated that some two hundred secede from the priesthood every year; a people who have thrown over their Church and practically banished religion from their schools. You have teachers who have a better chance of employment and promotion if they are free-thinkers. Consequently juvenile crime is increasing, and immorality more or less rampant. Here are two facts. According to the official journal, during the year 1905, 3,805 boys of sixteen years of age passed through the police courts, and 566 girls of the same age; and in the same year there were 468 cases of suicide of men and women under twenty-one years of age. Again, in Paris alone the illegitimate births are over 12,000 a year, while in London, with its much greater population, the number for 1906 was 4,868.
What is the remedy? Certainly a revival of religion will not come through politics—but will it come from the Church herself?
There is a Liberal school of Roman Catholic Theology in France from which some hope much. M. Paul Sabatier (who has written so much and so well upon this subject) has great hopes that the Church in France will be saved by this party. But it is a party which has no favour from Rome, and time alone will show whether anything can be accomplished by it. Some, indeed, there are who think that the somewhat mysterious action of the Pope in the late controversy with the Government arose from the existence and strength of this “Liberal” party, and the latest Papal pronouncement seems to favour this view. This school—historical, liturgical, and critical—has broken down the intellectual conceptions on which Romish doctrine rests; and if its views are accepted by Roman Catholics generally, then the Vatican sees clearly that it cannot sway the minds of the people and bring them to obey implicitly.
It would appear that the Curia sees that the doctrines of Liberalism, once adopted, will overthrow Romanism, and in its desire to save the Church allows the French Catholics to be persecuted, knowing that persecution will confirm Conservatism, and drive the really attached Ultramontanes closer to the Roman authority. The Pope’s action is, in fact, the inevitable result of Ultramontanism, for nowadays no Romanist can be anything but an Ultramontane if he is loyal to the Papacy. Thus the action of the Pope may not be a diplomatic mistake so much as the outcome of a steady policy to maintain unity on the basis of the Vatican decrees and the syllabus.
The lessons for the Church of England are obvious. It may be that France is in the van of a larger movement for good or for evil. Spain, Italy, Germany, are in the throes of the same struggle. Anti-clericalism is not unknown among ourselves. Surely we may learn the danger of a too close alliance with any political party. The Church, as her Divine Founder, should be non-political. And should not every nerve be strained to keep our people in close attachment to the Church, by active sympathy with the masses, putting before them a manly Christianity and avoiding mediævalism and superstition? And must we not fight for schools, that definite religious instruction be given to our children, which will equip them as none other can for the responsibilities of national life, and for the life to come? If we learn these lessons while the day lasteth, “quis separabit.”
The position and work of the Church of England upon the Continent is not understood as it should be by British people in general. It is difficult to overcome old prejudices, and there is no doubt but that in former times (now happily gone by) there was a distinct prejudice against the Continental Chaplain. It was generally thought that he must either be on the Bishop’s “black list,” or have been guilty of some grievous fault to be found upon the Continent at all. And this prejudice was hardly to be wondered at. It is not very many years ago since no Bishop was found to be superintending the chaplains, and there were men ministering abroad who had left their country for their country’s good. The history of Episcopal supervision is briefly this. In the year 1663 “congregations of the Church of England in foreign countries” were placed under the jurisdiction of the Bishop of London. This was in the reign of Charles I., and by an order of the King in council. And this order held good for 200 years. During this period there are little or no traces of any effectual Episcopal supervision, neither is there any record of any Assistant Bishop aiding the Bishop of London in this work. We may, however, assume that the number of British people travelling and resident upon the Continent was nothing like what it is now. In the old days people often took their carriage over the Channel and travelled with servants and Courier, so that trips abroad were only a luxury of the rich. And now the London Polytechnic, e.g., take people over by thousands, and offer a trip to “lovely Lucerne” with all the best excursions, etc., for £5 5s.! When taking the chaplaincy at Lucerne three years ago I was much interested in the arrival of these weekly parties, and in order to see how the excursions were managed went with a party to the end of the Lake, and by Goschenen to Andermatt, a lovely excursion; and I was indeed surprised how well everything was done. The lunch was plain but substantial, and all included in the five guineas for a week’s trip.
But to return to Church matters. In 1825 Bishop Luscombe was appointed to the Embassy Chaplaincy in Paris, and to superintend British congregations on the Continent. This could have been no sinecure, when it is remembered that there was then no Bishopric of Gibraltar, and that his appointment included superintendence of the Church of England congregations on the whole Continent, in Asia, and the North of Africa.
I endeavoured to ascertain if there were any records of Episcopal work done in these lands, but could find no trace. The Embassy Chaplaincy was less important then than it has since become, but my experience has been that the work in Paris is both onerous and constant, and that with all the chaplain may be able to accomplish there is necessarily much left undone. Twelve thousand English people scattered over a large city must involve, as it does, heavy work.
In the year 1842, the Bishopric of Gibraltar was founded; in this case a territorial title was available owing to our possession of the impregnable rock. Forty-two years afterwards, in 1884, a most important step was taken, and a Suffragan Bishop to the See of London appointed to take jurisdiction over the congregations in Northern and Central Europe. The first was Bishop Titcomb, a man greatly beloved by all who knew him, and one who never tired of doing all he could to help and cheer his chaplains, many of whom were in isolated posts and often very lonely. Unfortunately he was only a few years at work, when he was taken ill and died. His successor was the Right Rev. Bishop Wilkinson, formerly of Zululand, under whom I was privileged to serve during the whole of my chaplaincy. I usually arranged for the Bishop’s hospitality at the Embassy when he visited us for Confirmations, and while I fear he does not like Paris and big receptions, we were always pleased to see him and fully appreciated his work amongst us. The travelling in this (so-called) diocese is very fatiguing, as it reaches from Calais to St. Petersburg, and embraces Belgium, the North of France, Germany, Norway, and Sweden, etc.
Thus the work of the Church of England upon the Continent is within these two Dioceses—I use the term as being the most convenient—and can, I believe, be favourably compared with that in any English or Colonial Diocese.
In both Dioceses there are permanent and temporary chaplaincies. Permanent chaplaincies are usually in towns, where there is a resident and commercial colony, and where similar work is carried on to that of an English parish. The temporary chaplaincies are opened only in the season, and in places where the English congregate for health, holiday, and pleasure.
The appointments to these chaplaincies are chiefly in the hands of the two well-known societies, the Colonial and Continental Church Society and the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel. All licenses are issued by the Bishops of London and Gibraltar. Since my removal from Paris I have been a member of the Committee of the former Society, and I can testify to the care which is taken to select men suitable to the vacant positions.
In the chaplains, and especially in the case of those permanent, English travellers abroad will generally find a sympathetic friend, and one ready to give advice or help whenever needed.
May I, in closing this short notice of a very important and increasing work, plead for greater liberality on the part of travellers. The chaplains are often but poorly paid, and are in a large measure dependent—in some cases entirely—upon the weekly offertory. The number of nickel coins in the plate week after week is a trying experience to the chaplain, and seems to show but small appreciation on the part of travellers of the advantage of a religious service when abroad, and of the very great difficulty there often is in keeping a chaplaincy open for want of funds.
In trouble and difficulty the chaplain is frequently the one applied to, and then gratitude is expressed, but it surely should not be left to such times; and the plea of home calls and the expense of a holiday abroad is not satisfactory or quite reasonable. But what noble exceptions there are to the grudging giver! I had for some years a member of my congregation in Paris who regularly put a gold piece in the plate on Sundays, and if away for three or four weeks would, on her return, give for each Sunday of her absence; and “God loveth a cheerful giver.”
The American Colony is not nearly so large as the English in Paris, but it is important and influential. According to the last census there were 5,000 Americans resident, or in hotels, while there were 12,000 English. The reason for this difference in numbers is not far to seek. America is too distant, and the voyage too expensive for the poor to readily cross the great Atlantic; while for a few shillings anyone can traverse the little “Manche” between England and France and try their luck in the gay City—generally looked upon in England as one vast pleasure ground. Alas! these poor people often find tears where they looked for laughter, and poverty where they looked for gold. An American in distress from poverty is a rarity. The few who are stranded in Paris find many liberal helpers among their own country people.
There is no doubt that Americans thoroughly appreciate the beauty and comfort of living in the “Ville lumière,” and there are many residents who have chosen it as a place of residence when free to live anywhere. Then there are others who are married to French, and thirdly, those who are studying painting, singing, or architecture, or whose children are being educated in that thorough way we in England know so little of.
The English Chaplain comes into close contact with many Americans, both socially and ministerially. Though the beautiful Church in the Avenue de l’Alma was built for, and by, Americans, the English Embassy Church counts among her faithful worshippers many an American cousin. Doctor Morgan, who has for many years ministered to the American Church, and is so much beloved by all, quite recognised that we must exchange many of our flock, and it would not be possible, nor desirable, to keep to the nationality of our congregation, especially as we are in communion one with the other.
Socially, the English Chaplain must necessarily meet many Americans. Naturally, those who speak the same language (or nearly so) must draw together in a strange country. But there is more than that, as everyone knows, in the relationship of English and Americans. Their outlook on life from childhood for education, both in the home and school, is the same. Until one has lived in a foreign country one hardly realizes how this affects one.
The difference in the way a Frenchman regards the question of morality and religion makes a barrier which is not often bridged. The truly sympathetic friendship between the Anglo-Saxon and the Frenchman is the exception, and not the rule. In this way the American and English in a foreign land draw closer together, and consider themselves very much as one family, with the same tastes and sympathies, while they regard in quite a different light those they call “foreigners,” though they may be living in that “foreigners’” land, and would be quite offended if the term were applied to them.
We made many friends among the Americans, and we can never think of our life in Paris as separate from those dear ones. Indeed, the house which my family and I have come to regard as a second home, and where the welcome is always that of a kind sister, belongs to an American who was, and is still, one of the most regular attendants at the English Church. I cannot too often testify to the liberality of the Americans in Paris in helping the British poor. They were ready at all times to give of their money and time for this purpose, and I cannot remember a single instance when I appealed in vain for their aid. At a large working party formed for making clothes for the British poor, we had not only the attendance of many Americans, but the beautiful and commodious rooms of the Hotel Powers were lent to us free of charge by their American owner.
When we had bazaars for the Church, several stalls were taken by Americans, and at concerts given for charitable purposes it was in many cases to the American Colony we owed both the talent which attracted the large attendance, and also the results we generally obtained.
Perhaps one of the most notable of the American millionaires when I first went to Paris was Mrs. Ayer. She was almost mobbed when she went out on account of her wonderful jewels, which represented a large fortune. I have seen people standing on chairs in a drawing-room to get a better sight of her—or of them! Indeed, royalty could hardly compete in notoriety with this little old lady.
Mrs. Astor in her beautiful flat in the Champs Elysées (which she called only a little “pied-à-terre”) gave most enjoyable soirées, and her beautiful manners added not a little to the pleasure of her guests. She had the great charm of making no difference in her welcome, whether the guest was a prince or a poor curate, and one went away with the delightful feeling that you were the person she had most wished to see, and you had given her much pleasure by your presence!
The late Mrs. Warden-Pell also entertained a good deal, and she often, at her afternoon receptions, when great artists delighted her audience, gave young students an opportunity of being heard—an opportunity which was worth a great deal to them, and which they were not slow to appreciate.
Mrs. Whitelaw-Reed, who has since become so well known as the wife of the Ambassador in London, did a great deal for the artists in the Latin quarter, and her work has borne much good fruit.
I must also speak of Mr. and Mrs. Mason, the American Consul and his wife, who have for many years won the love and admiration of all nationalities and classes in the most cosmopolitan town—Paris. Their house is always open to those who require aid or sympathy, and it is not only Americans who seek it there. Mrs. Mason may be seen at all gatherings in any way connected with charity, and we English often forgot that we had no real claim upon her and, I fear, trespassed on her kindness.
I have spoken elsewhere of Mrs. Hoff and the good work she helps so liberally. The annual banquets of the American Chamber of Commerce and the July celebrations were always important functions, and I have thus had the great pleasure of listening to some of the most eloquent speakers in America and France. It was the usual custom to have present a contingent of the “Garde Républicain,” and their bright uniforms added much to the brilliancy of the scene. At one of these functions quite an ovation was given to General Horace Porter. He was the means of restoring to America all that was left of “Paul Jones,” the founder of the American Navy. General Porter paid all the expenses of transport, etc., which were enormous, and the body was taken through the streets with great pomp and “éclat,”—both in Paris and New York.
I cannot mention the many Americans whose kindness to me was unfailing, and can only add that without the Americans in Paris the English Chaplain’s life would be less agreeable, and his financial responsibilities more difficult to maintain.
My departure from Paris came about in rather a curious way. In April and May, 1906, we had a visit from the late Dean Barlow (of Peterboro’). For the first of May (“Labour Day”) we had arranged a Drawing-room Meeting for the Dean on behalf of the Colonial and Continental Church Society, whose work in Canada was, and is, attracting so much attention in religious circles. It turned out, however, to be one of those “scares” with which Paris is sometimes afflicted, and the idea having got abroad that something dreadful was about to happen, only three people turned up! The Dean was very kind about it, and notwithstanding the small number present, gave us a most interesting account of his recent visit to Canada. The next morning when he was leaving, he turned to me and said, “Noyes, how long have you been here?” I told him nearly sixteen years, and added, “You must not leave me here too long.” The Dean had very considerable influence in Church patronage, and when he wrote to me in the spring of 1907, he said, “Do you remember what you said to me when I was leaving your house last year? Well, I have ventured to put your name forward for an important Church in London.” So slight often are the incidents which bring about changes in our lives. I had never heard of St. Mary’s, Kilburn, or been in this part of London before I came over to see the Church.
The saying “good-bye” is always trying, and especially after a long ministry among such a devoted congregation as I had in Paris. I preached a farewell sermon to a large congregation on Friday, June 9th, 1907, and although I struggled hard against it, completely broke down.
The next day I had to face a large gathering in the Washington Palace, to receive a most gratifying testimonial. The spacious room was crowded, and the kind expressions of regret almost overwhelming. It was here I was able to make the announcement that I had received a few days previously from a generous donor, who wished to remain anonymous, the magnificent gift of £4,000 towards the Paris Church House.
The following account appeared in the papers of the succeeding day:—
“At the Washington Palace this afternoon took place the presentation by Mr. Percy Inglis, British Consul-General, to the Rev. H. E. Noyes, D.D., of the testimonial from the congregation of the church in the Rue d’Aguesseau, consisting of an illuminated address, a cheque, and a flagon, in the presence of a large gathering, among whom were Sir Henry Austin Lee, Doctor Sewell, Mr. H. Millington Drake, the Very Rev. Father McMullan, Mr. Lammin, Mr. Le Cocq, and Mr. Coleman. Mr. Inglis read, amid great applause, the address, which is a tribute to the excellent work performed by Doctor Noyes during his sixteen years’ residence in Paris. In his reply Doctor Noyes related all that had been done for the charitable and other institutions of the colony during that period, and spoke very feelingly of the hearty support which he had received throughout from the Embassy and all its members. He noted this as especially interesting, that during that time he had seen four Ambassadors at the mansion in the Faubourg Saint Honoré, and no fewer than five Presidents of the Republic. Great enthusiasm was displayed when the reverend gentleman announced that he had received last week from a donor whose name could not be revealed the magnificent sum of 100,000 frs. for the contemplated clergy house. Afterwards Doctor and Mrs. Noyes took a hearty farewell of all their friends, with the expression of the hope that they would meet again in Paris and at their new home in London.”
My successor, as is well known, is the Right Rev. Bishop Ormsby (late of Honduras), and it is a curious circumstance that when I was curate of St. Matthias’s Church in Dublin, one of the congregation was Judge Ormsby, the father of the Bishop.
I left Paris with many regrets, and often have wondered since whether I had not been there too long to leave it. But the die is cast, and I can only now in quiet moments wander in thought over the familiar scenes, and think of the many kind friends, the memory of whom will never fade.