Paris Impious And Religious Paris. [Footnote 55]
[Footnote 55: Les OEuores de Charité a Paris, par Julie Gouraud. Le Bien qui se fait en France, par M. l'Abbé Mullois.]
Am English lady, with whom the writer of this article fell into conversation one day at the table d'hôte of a Paris hotel, made the remark, "What a pity that the Parisians are so wicked!" This remark expresses the common opinion of English and American Protestants about Paris. The general desecration of Sunday, the evident lack of religion among a great portion of the people, the open infidelity of many of the leading newspapers, and other things of the like nature, strike their attention immediately. The extreme gayety of the French character appears, moreover, to the sedate Anglo-Saxon like an utter levity and frivolity. Puritan notions about Sunday, as foreign to the minds of continental Protestants as they are to those of Catholics, make them look also upon many innocent recreations and amusements in which the French people indulge on Sunday, as marks of an irreligious spirit, when they are not at all so. The consequence is, that they make an unfavorable judgment of the Catholic religion in consequence of what they see in Paris which is either really or in their opinion impious and immoral. This judgment is, however, altogether superficial; first, because the actual estimate of the religious and moral state of Paris is partial and one-sided; and second, because the responsibility of the really existing evils is unjustly cast upon the Catholic religion.
We propose, therefore, to give a more just and correct estimate of Paris as it is, by presenting its religious aspect in the same coup d'oeil with its irreligious aspect, and showing the true relations of the good and evil, as they exist side by side in mutual hostility and struggle, with each other and with their causes.
The light in which Paris is regarded as a Catholic city, and France as a Catholic nation, by English and American Protestants, is an incorrect one. As Paris represents France, we will speak of Paris alone, leaving the reader to apply to France generally, guided by his own knowledge and discretion, what we say about the capital. Paris is rather to be called a city which was once Catholic, and which Catholicity is striving to reconquer, than an actually Catholic city. The French Revolution abolished the Catholic Church, exterminated the clergy and religious orders, and put an end to the Christian religion in Paris. The mass of the people lost all faith and religious sentiment, and consequently could not transmit them to the generations which have been born since, and which have, grown up in ignorance and heathenism. Since the partial restoration of the Catholic religion by Napoleon the First, constant and zealous efforts have been made to convert this heathen mass, yet a vast number of the people remain still practically heathen, and a considerable proportion of them are not even baptized. With the common people there is more of ignorance and thoughtlessness than of positive infidelity or aversion from the church. In the higher walks of life, beside the ignorant and thoughtless class who have but a slight tincture of Catholic belief, there is the large and influential class of the positive infidels, who keep up a continual war upon every form of revealed religion. The majority of the people of Paris having thus been always in a state of greater or less alienation from all positive Christian belief and wholly regardless of the authority of the church since the French Revolution, the proper observance of the Sunday has never been reestablished. The people having lost the habit of resting on that day, and having dropped all thought of going to church, business and work have gone on upon Sunday from the mere vis inertiae. The church and the minority of the population have not been able to bring back the general observance of the day. Consequently, those who wish to observe it and to have it observed, are to a great extent dragged in to follow the common custom by the necessity of the case, and the clergy are not able to insist as strongly as they would wish on the obligation of resting from servile labor. It is not to be supposed that the clergy and the genuine Catholics of Paris approve of this desecration of Sunday. Let any one read the eloquent remarks of F. Hyacinthe, the most celebrated preacher of Paris, on this subject, in our last number, and he will see a correct statement of the sentiments of the Archbishop of Paris and all his clergy respecting the observance of Sunday. It is indeed a shocking spectacle, and one disgraceful to the great French nation, to see all public works going on, nearly all shops open, all factories in motion, and to meet the crowd of blouses shoving their way through the other, well-dressed crowd, as they return from work on Sunday, which ought to be the poor man's holiday. As a consequence of this unnatural privation of the day of rest given him by God, the laborer, from sheer inability to make a mere machine of himself, seizes on the Monday. Instead of the holy, cheerful rest of Sunday, there is a dull, apathetic cessation of work on Monday, and the blouses are again met loitering about the streets and quays, too often in a state of intoxication. The accountability for this falls not upon the Catholic Church, but upon that party which has been and ever is working for her destruction, and which receives to a great extent the sympathy and encouragement of Protestants in England and America.
We cannot pretend to say precisely what proportion of the population of Paris is practically outside of the Catholic Church. We have been told by an American gentleman that one of the clergymen of St. Eustache estimated the population of that parish at 40,000, of whom 10,000 attend Mass, and 3000 approach the Sacraments. If this estimate can be applied to the whole city, then 900,000 of the people habitually neglect the church, leaving 300,000 who habitually frequent it, out of whom somewhat less than 100,000 receive the Sacraments. If this estimate is incorrect, it will probably call out a more, correct statement from some of our friends in Paris, which we shall be glad to receive. Without committing ourselves, therefore, to any exact estimates, we may nevertheless affirm what is an evident fact, that there exists within the great world of Paris a smaller, but still in magnitude a considerable religious and Catholic world which is really one of the glories of Christendom for the extent and fervor of its works of faith, charity, and piety. There is a religious as well as an impious Paris, which, in many respects deserves to be held up as a model to the other portions of the Catholic Church, and is entitled to the admiration of all Christians throughout the world.
We will begin with the charities of Paris, leaving its religion to be spoke of afterwards. Paris is world-renowned for the number and excellence of its charitable institutions. These are not exclusively the work of the religious portion of the people, but common to all, from the imperial court down to the humblest class. There is a natural basis for charity in the French character. France is the most completely, highly, and universally civilized nation in the world. This civilization has been matured and brought to perfection by Christianity, yet the superiority of its kind and degree is due to the fact that Christianity found in the French character an uncommonly plastic and ductile material to work upon. The truth of this observation is proved by the refinement and politeness prevailing so universally among all classes. There must be something naturally amiable in the French character, which takes easily the refining, gentilizing influences of Christian civilization. In the ordinary, small affairs of life and common intercourse this is politeness, and it adds no little to the pleasantness and happiness of every-day existence, detracts no little from its burdens. Carried into a higher sphere, it becomes philanthropy. The Catholic religion evolved it into the highest activity and elevated it to the rank of supernatural charity. This charity is still the interior and principal wheel which imparts movement and supplies force. Yet its movement, once communicated, is retained even by those who have lost Catholic faith and charity, or who are acting chiefly in view of temporal motives. There is a general interest in and desire for the well-being and happiness of the whole people. There is not so much liberty in France as in some other countries, yet there is more equality and fraternity there than anywhere else on the globe. The government is somewhat despotic, yet there is no doubt that it labors for the well-being of its subjects. The utmost care is taken of life and property, and the most extreme vigilance is exercised to see that the public is well served in every branch of administration. The emperor is the hardest working man in Paris, and the empress is not at all behindhand in sustaining her part of the arduous as well as honorable duties of the throne. Who does not know that plans for model tenements, projects for relieving the laboring classes, charitable and benevolent enterprises of various sorts, are the continual subjects of interest and consultation in the palace of the Tuileries? The emperor's fête on the fifteenth of August, with the abundant alms distributed on that day throughout every quarter of Paris, and the permission to ask alms of everybody conceded to the mendicant class, are like a gleam of more Catholic times, and present a pleasing contrast with the glum demeanor and frozen state of royalty in England and Prussia. We may speak here, also, of the remarkable honesty and fidelity in taking care of the property of others which is so general in Paris among all sorts of persons, especially those engaged in serving the public, and of which we might give a great number of instances, were it convenient to do so. In regard to hospitals, and other public institutions for the relief of the sick, poor, and otherwise suffering classes, it is needless to go into particulars to show how energetic and liberal is the action of the French government in regard to them.
English and American Protestants exaggerate too much the good of their own civilization, and blow their own trumpet in a fearfully sonorous manner. They think too much of long faces, measured gravity of demeanor, drawling tones, long prayers, set, evangelical phrases, and the tithing, in a metaphorical sense, of mint, anise, and cummin. They are blind to the gross social defects and evils marring their civilization; and to the corruptions and immoralities which are poisoning their national life-blood. We do not deny the evils which exist in Paris; nevertheless, we maintain that it is in a far sounder moral state, and far superior in general social well-being, to London or New-York. There remains, even in impious and worldly Paris, an effect produced by the Catholic religion in former times, and sustained even now by a secret supply of force from the same cause, which places it in a much nearer proximity to genuine Christianity than any other great city in the world. But we will leave these generalities and come to a closer inspection of the specific charities of Paris which are in an immediate relation with the Catholic Church, and chiefly sustained by her faithful members.
(1.) The Work of the Faubourgs. This is a society of ladies founded in 1848. Its object is to provide clothing and schooling for the poorest children in the outskirts of Paris, who are sought out and cared for by the ladies of the society in person. A concert of the first quality is given once a year which produces from 6000 to 8000 francs, and there are numerous subscribers at five francs a year.
(2.) The Maternal Society. This society was founded in 1788, with Queen Marie Antoinette as directress. Its object is to encourage mothers to nurse their own infants and to furnish them the assistance necessary to enable them to do it. Forty-eight sections of the city are assigned, each one to a lady of the society, and these forty-eight ladies meet once a month to regulate the distribution of the charities. On the day of the infant's birth, the mother receives ten francs and a set of baby-clothes, five francs a month for ten months, and a change of dress for the infant. If the mother is unable to nurse the infant, a nurse is provided. The ladies, moreover, take particular care to give good counsel and advice to the mothers of families whom they visit respecting their religious and moral duties. Napoleon the First placed the society under the protection of the Empress Maria Louisa, and gave it a donation of 100,000 francs. Nine hundred families are assisted and 60,000 francs expended by the society, every year.
(3.) The Cribs. The institution of cribs was established to furnish a supplement to the work of the maternal society. Great numbers of poor women are unable to remain at home during the day with their children, on account of the necessity of going out to work. The cribs afford them an asylum where their infants are taken care of during the hours of their absence from home. The merit of devising this work of charity belongs to M. Marbeau, a member of the council of charities, who founded the first crib in 1844 at Chaillot. The cribs are now established in every quarter of Paris. They are regulated by a council of administration under the presidency of the mayor. A committee of ladies appoints and superintends the inspectresses of the work. Sisters of Charity, aided by nurses, have charge of the cribs. A medical committee watches over the sanitary department. Since the foundation of the work, about fifteen thousands infants have been admitted. Neat little cradles or beds are provided for the youngest infants, walking-stools and playthings for the older ones, and some are left to tumble about and play upon the floor of a small room which is carpeted with a mattress. The mothers bring their infants in the morning, come during the day to nurse them, and take them home at night. On holidays they keep them at home during the day, and can do so on other days when they have no work.
(4.) Halls of Asylum. This is the delicate name given with true French politeness, that politeness to the poor of which little is known in England or America, to what we should call poor-schools or ragged-schools. The first attempt to institute these schools in France was made in 1770, and the celebrated Oberlin, a Protestant pastor in the Vosges, is said to have been the first proposer of the plan. It is only since 1826 that they have been in general and successful operation, owing chiefly to the exertions of Madame de Pastoret and M. Cochin. There are now in France 3308 asylums, which have educated 3,833,856 children, besides 2022 garderies, or little schools, which have received 5026 children. Many of these asylums are under the charge of religious of different orders, and others under lay teachers.
(5.) Common Schools. Besides the above-mentioned class of schools, there are 1168 public primary schools in Paris, upon which the municipal council expend yearly 497,344 francs. The whole number of schools in France is 73,271, attended by 4,855,238 children. A great many of these schools are under the care of religious of both sexes. To speak only of the Christian Brothers, this society has in France more than one thousand houses, and above nine thousand members. Thirty-one of these houses are in Paris, and they have several hundred schools under their charge. We have no exact statistics of a recent date, but in 1852 the number of their schools in Paris was 275.
(6.) Patronages. The work of patronage has for its object to watch over children of the laboring class after leaving school and going to work. The houses of the society are distributed all over Paris, and the number of apprentices under its care is 1800. The members are persons of the higher classes, and they exert themselves personally to find good places for their clients, to watch over them during their apprenticeship, and to lend them a helping hand in various ways. The young people are assembled at the patronages on Sundays, where they have Mass and Vespers, religious instruction, study and recreation. They have also evening-schools during the week.
(7.) The Friends of Childhood. This society was founded in 1827, by a number of young gentlemen of fortune, for the succor of poor children without parents, or having parents who neglect to take proper care of them. The children adopted by the society are taken care of until they can be placed as apprentices. There is also a house in a pleasant quarter of the city, called the family mansion, where the apprentices who have been brought up by the society resort on Sundays and holidays, to meet their protectors and pass the day in a profitable and pleasant manner.
(8.) The Work of the Prisons. This is a very extensive charity and has many ramifications. The House of Paternal Correction is a place of detention where parents may place disorderly children, and in which, under the direction of religious brothers or sisters, an effort is made to reform, instruct, and prepare them for some kind of work in which they can gain a decent living. The Patronage of the Liberated watches over young persons after they have been dismissed from the place of detention. The Colony of Mettray receive young criminals, who are kept there, and employed in agriculture or shop-work until they come of age, when they are liberated. The Work of Imprisoned Debtors, established during the latter part of the sixteenth century, by Madame de Lamoignon, has in view the liberation of this unfortunate class by arrangements with their creditors, and for this purpose engages the services of magistrates and lawyers. In the mean time they are visited and looked after in prison, and help is given to their families. After they are dismissed from prison, an asylum is furnished them until they can obtain the means of gaining their own livelihood, or the means are provided of sending them to their own homes, if they have come to Paris from a distance, as is the case with the greater number. The Work of St. Lazarus, managed by ladies, is directed to the care of women of bad life, detained in the prison of St. Lazarus. Madame de Lamartine, an English lady, was the foundress of this branch of charity, encouraged and aided by the advice of the celebrated Mrs. Fry. The first object proposed and accomplished was the amelioration of the prison discipline, by introducing neatness and order, regular employment, religious instruction, and the happy influence of continual visits by the ladies engaged in the work. The second was the foundation of a house of refuge for the poor women whose term of imprisonment had expired. In this house everything is done to complete their reformation, and at the proper time arrangements are made to restore those whose conduct has been good to their parents, to find places for them in respectable families, or to procure their admission to some religious community whose rules admit of receiving penitents. Those who desire to remain, and are worthy to do so, continue in the house permanently, forming a separate class, under the name of Magdalens. On certain festival days the ladies go to communion with the prisoners of St. Lazarus in their chapel, and afterward give them a banquet at which the ladies themselves serve the table in white aprons, and afterward accept an invitation to take their own breakfast.
(9.) The Society of St. Francis Regis. This society was founded in 1822 by M. Gossin, an eminent magistrate of Paris, in order to remedy the widely-spread moral evil of illicit unions. Vast numbers of the lower classes in Paris and throughout France live together as man and wife in a permanent union without being lawfully married either in the eye of the church or in that of the civil law. The society searches out persons of this kind, persuades them to contract valid marriages, and provides for the expediting of all the documents and legal formalities necessary for this purpose, as well as for the expenses. Between the years 1826 and 1866, 43,256 illicit unions were rehabilitated by its efforts in the department of the Seine alone, beside all that was done in other parts of the empire.
(10.) The Work of the Sick Poor. This work derives its systematic organization from St. Vincent de Paul, and is the special sphere of the Sisters of Charity, of whom there are 10,000 in Paris alone. These devoted religious are not, however, alone or unaided in their work of visiting the sick poor. The work is systematically organized in each parish under the direction of the curé, and a general supervision is exercised by the Superior General of the Lazarists. There is a society of ladies who assist the curé and the Sisters of Charity in each parish in their labors. More than 50,000 sick persons are each year visited and provided with all that is necessary for their bodily and spiritual relief by the charity of these ladies.
The sick poor in hospitals receive the same kind and charitable succor, and private convalescent hospitals have been established to receive those who are dismissed from the public hospitals. One of these establishments, called The Asylum of the Sacred Heart of Mary, founded in 1840, has received more than 17,000 young female convalescents. There is one for children, called the Asylum of St. Hilary, in a pleasant place in the country, near Paris, founded by a young Parisian gentleman of rank, whose initials only are given as M. le Due de L.
(11.) The Little Sisters of the Poor. The nature of this institute is so well known that there is no need to enlarge upon it. It has five houses in Paris, one of them partly founded by the 7th Legion of the National Guard, which gave 14,000 francs for the purpose.
(12.) Convent of the Blind Sisters of St. Paul. This is a religious community not entirely composed of blind persons, but into which such are admitted, founded in 1853. Connected with it is an asylum for blind girls, who are received from the age of six years, and can remain during life if they please.
(13.) The Work of the Soldiers. This is intended to provide schools of elementary education and religious instruction for the young soldiers of the garrison of Paris. The schools are established with the consent of the military authorities near some church or chapel, in order that there may be a place of easy access for the members of the school to perform their devotions. Each school has its chaplain who superintends the religious exercises. The classes are taught by the Brothers of the Christian Doctrine, by educated lay gentlemen, and sometimes by the more intelligent and well-instructed soldiers. The school is held every evening between the hours of supper and rappel. After the lessons are over, prayer-books are distributed, usually The Soldier's Manual, or books containing hymns especially composed for soldiers, of which they are very fond. After some prayers have been recited or some hymns sung, an instruction is given or some good book is read; then some closing prayers are recited, and the school is dismissed. Once a week there is a service entirely devoted to innocent recreations and religious exercises. On Sundays they have mass at an hour convenient for the soldiers, and vespers, with the Benediction, in the evening. At Easter, there is a retreat, followed by a general communion. The gentlemen engaged in this work are very punctual in their attendance, take great interest in their pupils, and find their intercourse with the soldiers very agreeable. When a regiment is exchanged to another military post, a register of the members of the school belonging to the regiment is confided to a trustworthy soldier, who delivers it to the priest in charge of the school at the new post, if there is one, and if not, is himself charged to keep up the good work among his comrades the best way he can. The number of soldiers brought under the influence of these schools is not very large, there being not more than 600 in attendance at Paris, but the admirable excellence of the plan is obvious, and there seems to be no reason why it should not have a more extensive success in due time.
(14.) The Society of St. Vincent de Paul. This society is the most extensive and celebrated of all existing religious associations among laymen, and has spread itself from Paris not only throughout France, but also into other countries of Europe, and into America. It was founded in 1833 by M. Bailly as a centre of reunion for Catholic young men, where they might learn to know each other, might give each other their mutual support and encouragement, and might act in combination for carrying on charitable works. Eight young students formed the original nucleus of the society, one of whom was the renowned Frederic Ozanam. The immediate stimulus to the formation of the society was given by the reproach of the St. Simonians that Catholicity was inert and incapable of doing any good in the social community. At the present time the society has 2400 members in Paris, many of whom are gentlemen of rank, judges, advocates, authors, physicians, or merchants. It is divided into numerous conferences, each one of which is perfectly organized. Its active work extends to searching out and relieving, as far as possible, every kind of moral and physical misery among the poorer classes. In a large number of schools for boys there are juvenile conferences where members are trained under experienced guides to the practice of charitable work, and there are analogous conferences also in some female schools.
There are many other charitable works carried on in Paris, for the publication of good books, for the provision of vestments and sacred vessels for poor country churches, and for a variety of other purposes which it would be impossible to enumerate completely. It is also well known that Paris is one of the great centres of foreign missionary operations. Yet, as it would be difficult to separate what belongs to Paris from the general work of the propagation of the faith, and the subject of French foreign missions is too extensive for a passing notice, we must leave it alone altogether.
Our meagre sketch of charities in Paris is necessarily somewhat skeletonian. Mlle. Gouraud, in her lively, charming volume, tells the story with that filling in of circumstantial narration and illustrative anecdote necessary to give its form completeness. She writes under the guise of Letters from an English Lady in Paris to a Friend in England, and although like her countryfolk in general, quite unsuccessful in spelling English, yet her book is made more entertaining by the pretty little artifice. We would recommend our countrywomen to order this little book, and some others of the same kind, with their Parisian gloves, and to read them in lieu of the novels of Dumas and Hugo, if we had any hope that our advice would be listened to.
We have said enough to show that the charitable side of religion in Paris, if it be not in its extent of surface adequate to the dimensions of that great capital, is nevertheless in full proportion to the numbers and resources of the really Catholic population. Out of about one hundred thousand practical Catholics, from twenty to thirty thousand, including the clergy and religious, make it either the exclusive, or at least a principal end of their lives, to perform charitable works. Out of these, a great number may justly be entitled true heroes and heroines of charity. If there were a legion of honor of charity, its grand crosses would be plentifully distributed in Paris. Religion in Paris atones for its deficiency in quantity by the superior excellence of its quality. Like ottar of roses, a little of it diffuses a wide perfume, and it is even able to disinfect the atmosphere redolent of the odeurs de Paris. If the whole population of Paris were really Catholic, and the whole body of the easy classes would cooperate with the clergy and magistracy to reform the social evils and miseries which fester in the bosom of the working class, it is difficult to conceive the greatness of the result which might be accomplished. The French people are the most highly civilized, and the greatest civilizers in the world. Their civilization extends downward into the humblest classes, and ramifies indefinitely in every direction. Take Paris even as it is, in our opinion it is the best governed city in the world, and less immoral than any other great capital. There are great miseries in it, no doubt, but these miseries make more impression on philosophic Frenchmen than on other men, and they make more ado about them. It is a fixed idea in the French mind that every human being ought to have a pleasant time and enjoy life. Evidently, the French are, as a whole, the most cheerful and joyous people in the world, and even the cochers, who are among the most forlorn human beings in Paris, do not seem very discontented. Let the Catholic religion regain full sway over the French mind and heart, and it seems to us that the civilization of Christianity might attain its ultimatum in France. To regain that sway it is now bravely striving against formidable difficulties and opposition. And although we do not venture to pronounce a positive judgment on the probabilities of final and complete success, we think the aspect of affairs encouraging, and believe that the church has gained ground steadily in Paris and throughout France.
Historically, and according to the exterior, Paris is a Catholic city. The Catholic religion is the religion of the French people, and, as such, enters into the whole structure of the political, civil, and social fabric. The French Revolution was a moment of national delirium. When the nation came to itself, it was forced by its common sense to reestablish religion, restore the desecrated temples to Catholic worship, and recall the surviving remnant of the expatriated clergy. The Hôtel Dieu, a hospital near Notre Dame de Paris, built by Saint Vincent de Paul, still bears on its front the half-effaced inscriptions, Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité. There could not be a more expressive symbol of the triumph of religion over infidelity. The past, the present, and the future glory of France is identified with religion. The traditions of the first foundation of Paris, which cast a halo of sacred association over it, and which are perpetuated by so many splendid monuments, are religious. The names of Saint Dionysius, Saint Genevieve, Saint Louis, familiar as household words, continually recall them. The glorious churches, which are the chief ornaments of the city, Notre Dame de Paris, La Sainte Chapelle, Saint Denys, Saint Eustache, The Madeleine; the streets even, with their appellations borrowed from religion, impress them continually on the memory and imagination. The masterpieces of art which fill the galleries of painting embody the mysteries, the events, the great personages of religion. The sublime services of the church give their principal grandeur to the national festivals, and to the public pomp of the imperial government. This exterior Catholicity is not much in itself, it is true. Nevertheless, it is a point d'appui, of great service to religion in laboring to imbue with the living principles of Christian faith and virtue the minds and hearts of the people. Awaken them to a belief that religion is a reality, and to an earnest desire to act according to its precepts, and they become fervent Catholics at once. The general atmosphere holds the Catholic spirit in solution, ready to be precipitated under the proper influences.
So far as the actual piety and religion of Paris is concerned, we have anticipated in a great measure what is to be said about it, in speaking of the charities of Paris. We need do no more than allude to certain facts well known to all who have visited the city in such a way as to really learn anything about it, or who are well informed by reading. The clergy are numerous, well organized, and above all praise for their high sacerdotal virtues. The colleges and seminaries for ecclesiastical training are certainly unsurpassed except by those of Rome. A rich and abundant stream of theological and religious literature is perennially flowing from the Paris press. Active and able as are the infidel writers of Paris, they are overmatched by the advocates of religion, who have vindicated and are vindicating Christianity in a most triumphant manner in every branch of polemics. The principal parish churches in Paris are models which the world might imitate. As for the piety of that portion of the people who are really practical Catholics, it is enough to visit the churches on week-days or Sundays, especially such as are places of special devotion, like Notre Dame des Victoires, to be most powerfully and agreeably impressed with the evidence of its high quality and fervor. Those who are best qualified to judge consider it beyond a doubt that religion has made a great advance in Paris within the last twenty-five years, and is advancing gradually but surely toward a reconquest of the masses of the population. A great combat is going on throughout Europe for saving the Christian religion and Christian civilization, and one of its chief battle-grounds is Paris. We cannot dissemble our solicitude for the result, or our sentiment of the gravity of the crisis. We trust, however, that the noble words of that great Christian orator Père Hyacinthe may be verified: "Christian society may agonize, but it cannot die; for it bears the principle of immortality in its bosom."
Translated From The Journal De Bruxelles.
Bishop Dupanloup's Speech At The Catholic Congress Of Malines.
Permit me, gentlemen, first of all to thank you for having kept up and continued your excellent congress. I congratulate you not only on the sacred flame which animates you, or the zeal which shines so highly in your public sessions, but also on the works which are the enduring fruits of your meetings. In reading, yesterday and this morning, the volumes which contain the reports of the proceedings of your former sessions, I have been astonished at the amount of information, at the resolutions, and the useful institutions which have resulted from your labors.
You have done a good work, a sacred and fruitful work; bonum opus. For this I give thanks to God, the author of all good and after him to his eminence the cardinal archbishop of Malines, who, in his wisdom, has found the means of sustaining your work in spite of all opposition. (Prolonged applause.)
The presence, on this occasion, of Monsignor Dechamps will not permit of my expressing all that I feel in my heart toward him. I remember with pleasure that my first battles at Liege were fought under the inspiring influence of his noble example. Twenty-one years have elapsed since then, and, while these years have left the marks of age upon me, it seems as if they have only had the effect of making him younger. (Laughter and applause.)
Having told you of the deep impression which has been made upon me, relative to the praiseworthy character of your work, it will hardly be expected that I should attempt to fan the flame of your zeal: that would be useless. My object at present is, just by a few simple words, to add something if I can to that sacred fire burning in your hearts, of whose results, as set forth in the proceedings of your last sessions, I have read with so much admiration.
You need not fear, then, that I will, on the present occasion, as happened three years ago, impose upon your good nature. (Cries from all parts of "No, no! Speak, speak at length.") To abuse it this time is impossible, for my strength will not permit. I shall, consequently, be on my guard against the temptations to which one is exposed before such an audience as this.
I wish simply to remind you of the words of St. Paul, which are applicable now: "Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good." Noli vinci a malo, sed vince malum bono. You will perceive that these are words of great importance; and, with your permission, I shall offer a few remarks upon them. They are words deserving of serious consideration, for evil surrounds us, or rather presses upon us. This evil is present, acting, speaking. We must overcome this evil, but we must overcome it not by evil, but by good; in bono. Here we see our duty. The evil, gentlemen, has been in the world for a long time, and for this reason we should neither be astonished at it nor discouraged in our efforts. Let me simply remind you of the few last centuries. What has Protestantism done? It has attacked the church which was in the sixteenth century. What has the eighteenth century done? It has attacked Christianity. The nineteenth century, gentlemen, has attacked everything—it has attacked God, the soul, reason, morals, society, the distinction between good and evil. Yes, gentlemen, everything is to-day shamefully, audaciously, impudently attacked. (Prolonged applause.) Here we see the extent and the intensity of the evil; here we see the necessity of overcoming it with good. We can do it; not without effort, it is true; but still we can do it. For us is reserved, henceforth, the glory of defending the law of reason, as well as that of faith; the natural, as well as the supernatural; the immortality of the soul, and the existence of the Deity, against the most audacious and the most foolish enemies that have ever been known. (Applause.)
I tell you, nevertheless, that the battle is a hard one, and certainly the acclamations which, on this occasion, greet the names of the church, the pope, and the holy Virgin, show that the evil is serious, that the sore is deeply seated, that the disease has thoroughly infected souls that are dear to us, and for which we ought to fight; has laid hold upon souls dear to us, and which we should save from ruin. Ah! gentlemen, what ought we not to do in order to save souls! We should be prepared to sacrifice our strength, blood, our lives if necessary. This is the price of victory; and that you may not forget it, the cross which is raised over this assembly reminds you of what is the price of souls. (Sensation.)
The struggle, then, is a severe one, and it is especially so now, seeing that never at any previous period has evil had more powerful means employed in its service than at the present time. We have to encounter not only against an immense, concealed organization, that of secret societies, the ramifications of which extend on all sides, but against a vast public organization, and against a press which spreads calumnies and lies in every quarter.
From whatever point of view we look at it, the contest is a terrible one. And observe, gentlemen, that the propaganda of evil knows no limits, and respects nothing; it attacks the rich, the poor, women, children, young girls. What do I say? It attacks even the dying, doing violence shamefully to their consciences, and snatching from them the consolation to be derived from a return to the faith. I ask these madmen, (for after all we are not here in the dark, but we fight in the light of day.) Whence came the idea of inducing any one to sign this infernal compact? What sort of man can he be who will persuade his fellow-creatures to enter into an engagement of this kind? And yet there are men who yield! Yes, there are men who pledge themselves never to return, even to their dying hour, to the religion and the hearts of their wives, to the religion and hearts of their daughters; for this is what these wicked, these barbarous separations amount to! (Sensation.)
The hatred of religion, gentlemen, is nowhere more marked than in Belgium. But I may add—what will, perhaps, astonish you when I say it—that it is to your honor it is so; for it is doubtless because they feel sensibly the power of your religion, of your faith, of your zeal, that they have been driven to hate so bitterly. It is to your honor, for it proves that you are a Catholic nation, the most Catholic, perhaps, that there has yet been.
But, in spite of these good and solid reasons for battling on, some are frequently tempted to ask, "Is the struggle to go on for ever? It is sufficient to wear out the stoutest courage." Well, gentlemen, I tell you that, under different phases, the struggle will be eternal. Do you wish to have the proof of this? Hear it, gentlemen, from the mouth of the Master; hear it with that respect which his divine word commands: "The world hates you, but you know that it hated me before it hated you." And again: "I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves. If they have persecuted me, they will persecute you. The disciple is not above his master, nor the servant above his lord. If they have called the master Beelzebub, how much more will they also call his servants!"
You understand, then, gentlemen, it is what is good they persecute in you—it is the good, it is justice, it is the liberty of souls, it is eternal glory that they hate in you. It is the adorable name of Jesus Christ which they persecute in you. This is to your honor; and allow me to say, it is to the particular glory of that society with which Belgium is honored, that society which has provided for your children such highly accomplished and devout masters, that society the members of which cultivate so successfully in your midst the sciences and letters, and who are, I may say, the princes of learning and of Catholic divinity. (Applause.)
But if Jesus Christ has predicted persecution, he says to us at the same time, Fear not; nolite timere. And St. Augustine in his admirable comment on this exhortation says: "You complain, you are astonished, at seeing a flood of persecution rising against you. You cry out, Where, then, O Lord! is thy justice? But God answers you, Where, then, is your faith? Did I promise you anything else than from the height of my cross I baptized you in my blood? Did you become a Christian in order to enjoy here below all temporal prosperity? Num quid Christianus factus es ut in hoc saeculo floreres?"
Let us look more closely into this great question. It may certainly be asked, Since God holds in his eternal hands the hearts of all nations in every age—since he can turn the hearts of princes as he wills, may it not be presumed that he will put a check upon the passions of men, and allow his children to enjoy eternal peace? Well, no. "As high," says the prophet, "as the heavens are above the earth, so high are my thoughts above yours." What, then, does he to whom belongs the wisdom and the power think on this subject? Gentlemen, God, in his eternal councils, has judged that there is nothing more glorious for him, nothing more salutary for man, than that good was to prevail by conflict. Overcome evil with good, is the tower of strength of the divine power. God has thought—and let this thought, gentlemen, sink deep into your hearts; for you all, whatever your condition in life, have need frequently to meditate upon those teachings of Christianity which are at once a solid foundation and a glorious crown; God has thought, I say, that conflict in this world is necessary, that it is more worthy of him, and more worthy of us. In leaving men free to choose the good, God knows that there is the possibility of evil, which he has, thereby, hazarded; but he has ordained that there shall be conflict and struggle, without which that glorious thing we call virtue, virtus, would be unknown in the world.
And not only has he thought that, even after the fall, we were still great enough to be equal to great trials, but he has thought, also, that it would be more worthy of him and of us for us to pass through those trials. So, gentlemen, when Christ descended on earth, he chose the lot of suffering and of the cross. And St. Paul has found this foundation so solid, that he has made it the basis of his doctrine when he says that it was necessary that Christ should suffer in order that he might be raised in glory.
Well, permit me, gentlemen, to use this plainness of speech, for we are here as a family. I believe that God has judged rightly. I believe that bold adversaries are better for us than partial friends and unbounded prosperity. I believe that he will never leave our sufferings without their compensations. There is no age that has not had its glory. There are periods of consolation. Sometimes the sun rises and all seems easy.
We are told in Scripture that these bright periods often follow the darkness. There are times when the light of faith seems to be obscured. There are sometimes grievous misunderstandings among the friends of God, and sometimes deplorable manifestations of self-will. In this season of darkness, under the cover of this night, the beasts of prey leave their hiding-places: in ipsa hora pertransibunt bestiae. We hear men saying, God is evil. Property is robbery. We must have a new morality. And they would instil these things into the minds of your wives and your children. This is what we hear in the night. But the sun rises, and immediately these creatures retire into their holes. (Laughter.) Then the good man opens his door, sees that the weather is fine, that the sky is clear, and he goes forth to works of charity and virtue, laboring on in lively hope until the return of the darkness. (Applause.)
It is true that, when we see so much evil in the world, when we feel it near to us, and experience its effects, we are apt to become alarmed. But that would be wrong. A short time ago, on returning from Rome, where every one goes for consolation and hope, I passed through Pisa, where I found an admirable type of the church in the leaning tower of which you have all heard. Those who are ignorant of the secret of the skilful architect to whom we are indebted for this wonderful monument, cannot contemplate it without a certain degree of fear. But the craziness of the structure is in appearance only. It is the same with the church, which the Scriptures call the Tower of David, (Turris Davidcea,) surrounded by a thousand defences. When this leaning tower raises itself, it is like St. Peter's at Rome—an incomparable monument, grand, majestic, shining as if lighted with the fire of the setting sun. At this sight, gentlemen, we console ourselves, and take fresh courage, saying to ourselves, When afflictions come, I will think of St. Peter's at Rome, even when it appears like the leaning tower of Pisa. (Applause.)
This, gentlemen, is what I have to say to you about that conflict to which we are called to devote our strength, to consecrate our life, and even our death. Yes, gentlemen, when, upon my arrival here, I saw the illustrious writer who is now your host struggling with sickness and suffering, at the time when he was required to write some of those pages which awaken such noble sentiments in our souls, the reflection forced itself upon me: It is thus that we should combat, and never yield. (The orator was here about to leave the platform, but the opposition and entreaties of the audience prevented him.)
I crave your indulgence, gentlemen, he resumed; it is now two years since I have opened my mouth in my diocese. But let it be as you wish; only I throw the responsibility upon you of making my peace for me with the people of Orleans. (Orleanius.) (Great merriment.) I will add a few words respecting the conditions of this conflict.
The first is courage. Saint James the Evangelist, in addressing himself to young men, calls upon them to be strong, to be courageous; he says to them, "I speak to you because you are strong: quia fortis estis. I can say no more to you than this: Be courageous, never yield. Remember that you are, every day and under all circumstances, called upon to resist."
But there is something greater and more enduring than courage: it is devotedness. Yes, gentlemen, you must be devoted, in order that you may be the true friends of the poor, of the working people, of those who suffer and who weep, the support of all those works which is the life, the soul of the church, the blood—if I may so speak—which circulates in its veins.
The third quality which is demanded in this conflict is patriotism. O patriotism! I need not enlarge upon it in my speech. I will simply content myself with saying to you, You have a country; know how to defend it. (Immense applause.) You have the arts: in this respect there is no nation that surpasses you, and but one at most that equals you. You have industry, commerce, names among the most honored in Europe. You have I know not how much of generous, instinctive impulses against oppression, against debasing vices, against everything mean and degrading. Cherish, then, the strongest attachment to your country, and see that you preserve it.
I was told a few days ago that a journal of some character had said that Belgium is the sink of Europe. I said to myself, this is not abuse. There is, in fact, no nation of which so much can be said in the sense in which I wish now to speak. I myself, gentlemen, saw proof of this in walking through your city yesterday. In the street which runs along the magnificent city hotel of Brussels my eyes fell upon this sign: Liberal Association and Constitutional Union of Brussels. And what was there below? A wine-shop; and lower down another wine-shop, having for a sign the words "to Hell." (General merriment.) This, alas! is not all that I have seen in Brussels, gentlemen; but I pass on.
The fourth condition of the conflict is labor. Oh! how I wish that the Catholics were the most diligent, the most laborious of men. Yes; whatever you may be, work will benefit your family, your posterity. Depend upon it, gentlemen, the destinies of the world are in the hands of those who know how to work.
To this condition, to industry, to science, I would add intelligence and prudence. And here again, gentlemen, it is our Lord himself who gives us counsel: we are to have, he says, the artlessness of the dove, with the wisdom of the serpent. Yes, gentlemen, however much these words may have been abused, I insist upon them, and I call upon you to give heed to them. We must exercise that prudence of which the serpent is the symbol in the language of the east. We must use our judgment; we must intelligently apply our principles; we must maintain that good understanding which should ever exist among brethren. To give up that to the enemy to trample under his feet, would be treachery. (Applause.) We must seek to understand the times in which we live and the wants of the times, the adversaries whom we have to combat and the means we ought to employ in meeting them, as God and revelation permit and demand of us. (Applause.)
There is another point on which you will allow me to insist. When I had the honor of being received in the French Academy, I was required to make a speech. In searching for a subject suited to the times in which we live, I remembered the words of an historian: "We have long since lost the true meaning of words." This, gentlemen, is a profound remark. The higher philosophy, which is in accord with Christianity, proclaims its truth; words, which are the signs of ideas, are the grand riches of humanity; they are the common treasure. To adopt the language of the adversaries of that philosophy, and Christianity, is, to speak plainly, the greatest fault which honest men can commit.
What are the words with which the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries achieved their success? what are those which are in the present day so much abused? There are three of them: Reformers, Philosophers, and (since they take great pleasure in being called so) Liberals.
Reformers! We must confess that the thing indicated by this word is more strange even than the word itself. You have the Council of Trent which has labored continually to reform the church. In this world men are the depositaries of divine truth, and I need hardly tell you that, where man is concerned, imperfection must always be looked for. Well, gentlemen, the church is a society which reforms itself; for this purpose she has held a thousand councils, and the Council of Trent decided that there should not be a session in which reform should not be considered. We have reform, then, on our side. What have they on the other? They have Luther, with the religion which he brought from the cloister; Calvin, with a society of the same nature; OEcolampadius, etc. And these were the men who devoted themselves to the work of reforming the church—the church, gentlemen, which they called Babylon! As for them, it was the Holy Jerusalem, which they peopled with their wives and their children!
But what is still more extraordinary is the abuse which has been made of the word liberal. When Count Felix de Merode—a man whose name I feel doubly honored in pronouncing here—a man who fought to reconquer religious, civil, and political liberty for his country—when he heard his adversaries called liberals, he indignantly exclaimed: "They are not liberals, they are libertines. It is as impossible to call them liberals as it would be to call a mother a barbarous mother."
Gentlemen, is all this what they call liberalism? I have lately heard Juarez spoken of as a liberal. It is not that I would judge the men who claim this title, but I believe they do not understand the thing. For my part I would not apply the term to them. And Garibaldi, gentlemen, is another liberal. Listen to his language: "My friends, my children"—this man has something paternal about him (laughter)—"we must crush the sacerdotal vampire; as for the priests, we must break their heads on the pavement of the streets." What a liberal! Ah! gentlemen, if Bossuet, if Fenelon, if Bourdaloue, could come back to this world, they would say to us, "But what have you clone with this beautiful French language?" A liberal! But in our estimation he is the liberal man who does not deny to others the same justice and truth which he claims to have himself. The Portuguese Freemasons who drove out the Sisters of Charity, those of you who insult them, are still liberals! I say again, the thing is intolerable; and if I were a Belgian I would never betray my language, my honor, and my conscience by giving such a name to such men. (Applause.)
And so far as we are concerned, you know, gentlemen, how they pay us back. They call us the clerical party—that is to say, fools of the sacristy; or better still, the priest party. Shall I remind you of Voltaire, who invented the name wretch, by which he designated the church? And what name did he bear? He was called philosopher. Gentlemen, they would never get me to give the title of philosopher to a d'Holbach, to a Lamettrie, to any of those wicked men, conspiring with their master to crush the "wretch." I understand that they contemplate erecting a statue to the man who has given this name to Christianity. For my part, I say they will have raised a statue to infamy personified. (Prolonged cheers.) I am prepared to meet any opponent on this ground; and I will promise to give him, whenever he wishes to have them, such proofs of what I say as will resound throughout the whole of Europe. This violence done to common sense, to honesty, to French honor, is revolting to me. I repeat it, they are raising a statue to infamy personified. The Bishop of Orleans can think nothing better, can say nothing better of it. (Prolonged applause.)
You see, then, that we must have courage, devotedness, patriotism, prudence, and intelligence; I will add to these moderation and gentleness. Did not Christ say to his Apostles, "I send you forth as sheep among wolves"? Perhaps you will say to me, "But you give us several applications of this evangelical saying which it will not bear." Gentlemen, it is nowhere forbidden to the shepherd to give the alarm of the wolf, and to the sheep to believe it. Yes, we must be gentle, and Saint Chrysostom, commenting on these words, says: "We require protectors who attack little, but who defend well—pro pugnatorem, non impugnatorem" It is in this way, gentlemen—it is by gentleness—that we are to conquer. But if, instead of being sheep, we become wolves by abuse, if we wish to conquer and not to be convinced, we run the risk of being vanquished. Si lupi sumus vincimur.
And now, to conclude, I would express to you the deepest impressions of my soul. That which I admire most in this beautiful creation of the Deity, which makes man like the angels, is the flame of love which God has kindled in his soul. Gentlemen, what do the radiant looks of this assembly, this clapping of hands, these outbursts of enthusiasm, express? They express love. You love, gentlemen, and you love nobly. You love the church, your mother. Ah! you do well to love her with the purest and most generous love! The church is the fellowship of souls; herein is her beauty and her immortal glory. This is why, although she is in the world, she is not of the world. She lives by faith, hope, and love. She believes, she hopes, she loves. This earth is only the place of her pilgrimage; Heaven is her country, the King of Heaven is her father, Jesus Christ is her immortal spouse, the Holy Spirit her inspirer and her guide. She has her pontiffs, whom you venerate, her doctors, her priests. There, at least, we find here below a divine and unchangeable constitution. Built on a rock that can never be moved, we have a supreme authority, a teachable people, faithful ministers, and, in short, (not to speak of others,) rights scrupulously respected, and duties faithfully performed. (Applause.)
That which seems astonishing at first sight is, that the church, notwithstanding her divine origin and her immortal destinies, should so often come to us with thorns on her brow. But this is because she comes from Calvary, and her favorite strains were those which inspired Saint Paul when he said, "God forbid that I should glory save in the cross of Jesus Christ." Among the songs of gladness sung by the church, as she travels through this world, there are none more dear to her than those which celebrate the passion, the temptations, the sorrows of Calvary. These are her household words. We feel that she received them from the dying lips of a divine being; but, sharing the grief of the God-man, she should go forth with him from the tomb to cover the earth with her children, in innumerable multitudes.
The church must expect to meet here below with indifference, with adversaries, with persecutors. This has been announced, or rather promised, to her; she is not to enjoy where she has not suffered; at some time or other we all suffer, we die for her. Yes! She always has martyrs, and it is only recently that several have been laid upon the altar. Ah! it is during these festivals, gentlemen, that you should see the church in order to feel how her heart beats. On the recent occasion the Vicar of Jesus Christ was surrounded by five hundred bishops, who hastened to him from all parts of the world. You should have seen the gladness, the glory, the universal enthusiasm which prevailed. We found there a strength to encounter anything—to go freely, cheerfully, to Abyssinia, to India, to America, everywhere. How vigorous, how deep, how indissoluble is the union of souls! Behold the church here, as we have seen her and experienced her power! America sent thirty-five bishops; for a century she had not more than one. At the last council of Baltimore there were forty-three, and the American bishops, on leaving Rome, obtained from the Holy Father the erection of twenty-three dioceses. You see how fruitful is this immortal cause of yours.
And in the midst of all these is the grand thought of the Sovereign Pontiff proclaiming the utility and the necessity of a general council. There is wisdom, there is energy! No, gentlemen, I have never seen a finer sight than this old man going direct to his object with a firmness which nothing can overcome. All around him may be in a state of trouble; the earth may fail under his feet; still he maintains his ground, and the church shall have her council. Yes, gentlemen, the kingdoms of this earth may be removed, inclinata sunt regna; but the bishops will one day meet in council, and with the chief will hold forth the light to those who require their help. The church shall have its council, in order that disputes may cease, that peace may dwell in our hearts; that the people may be drawn into the arms of their common father, so that there shall be but one flock and but one shepherd.