Waldeck-Rousseau, the former Premier of France, in a speech before the French senate in 1903 stated that "Catholicism survives in France, if not as a religious law, faithfully observed by everybody, at least as a social statute respected by the vast majority." M. Goyan declares that the French church is indeed a moral power to be reckoned with, "and when the war-tocsin had rung throughout the land, when the hour of death had been welcomed as an old dear friend, all misunderstandings of the past melted away, and now for fully twenty-eight months the church could again place itself at the disposal of France."
With emotion and gratitude he relates the patriotic sacrifices made by the Protestant churches and the synagogues of France. Out of four hundred and ninety pastors of the Lutheran and Reformed churches, "one hundred and eighty are in the trenches: all students of the Paris Rabbinical Seminary and more than three-fifths of the officiating rabbis of the Republic left for the front; two of them were killed, one was missing.
"When after this war is over, our sister churches will write their own martyrology, Catholic witnesses will rise to glorify their dead. The whole Catholic press rendered a well deserved homage to Chief Rabbi Bloch of Lyons, who was mortally wounded by a German bullet while he attended a dying Catholic soldier, holding the cross to his livid lips."
After these prefatory remarks the author traces in his inimitable style a picture of the life and activity of the Catholic church from the unforgettable July days of 1914, to date. One-third of its priesthood followed the call of their country. *
* The Literary Digest, Feb. 17, 1917.
The Paris diocese alone has already buried forty-five of its members. The Cardinal-Archbishop of Lyons had to enlist laymen to fill the gaps in his decimated clergy. Bishops have become again parish priests.
"Eleven young French monks, surprised by the German invasion in their monastery in the grand duchy of Luxembourg, disguised themselves, walking stealthily into Belgium, and from there to France, immediately joining their barracks. Dominicans and Jesuits vie with each other in patriotic devotion. The Church, cheerfully accepting the abrogation of its time honored immunities, with a noble gesture commanded the young priests to shoulder their rifles: 'Your parish,' explained the Cardinal Archbishop of Rheims, Monseigneur Luçon, to his priests, is henceforth your regiment, your trench, your hospital. Love it as you have loved your church. Perhaps you will be buried on the battlefield. What of it? Why should we priests not give our blood?' Thus, the priest is no longer isolated from the people; he has become an integral part of it. The Dominican sergeants and Jesuit lieutenants have built the bridge. And who, on the other hand, would have believed, a short three years ago, that a company of French soldiers, educated in the godless school of the Republic, should, before preparing for assault, receive absolution on their knees?
"A parallel case to this kneeling company receiving absolution is the scene in the Bois d'Argonne, of March 7, 1916, when 'the successive waves of a regiment, marching to the attack, bowed themselves before the representative of God, de Chabrol, Chaplain of the division, whose hand, while the guns were thundering, made the sign of the redemption.'" (Quoted textually from an order of the day, by the commanding general.)
Fifty-nine priests and seminarists of the Paris diocese received crosses while practically under fire. "The natural love of the soil and the love of the church combined, produce heroic souls of a peculiarly noble blending. The olden days when bishops were the supreme lords of towns and countries were revived, if only for a short time, at Meaux, and elsewhere, shortly before the battle of the Marne. On September 3, 1914, the armies of von Kluck were expected any moment and the civil authorities fled. Bishop Marbeaux took possession of the City Hall, and with a rare skill organized the various municipal services. Generals Joffre and Galliéni had stopped the triumphal onslaught of the German troops. On September 9, the civil authorities returned to Meaux and Mayor Mar-beaux gave in his resignation. Similar was the situation in Soissons and Chalons-sur-Marne; the cathedrals again became civic centers.
"But our priests (continues M. Goyan) in the midst of the brutal butchery, are not unmindful of the Saviour's advice to love even our enemies—above all, if the latter are in great stress themselves. Thus Rev. Landrieux of the cathedral of Rheims, while the church was burning, saved from its ruins at the risk of his life a group of wounded German soldiers. The enraged population was about to lynch them. 'You will have to kill me first,' said the courageous priest. Words fail to describe as they deserve the deeds of Bishop Lobbedeye of Arras and his clergy.