of republicans in France—the party that regards M. Gambetta as its leader and Victor Hugo as its prophet—is chiefly responsible. It has taken a distinctly anti-Catholic basis in what undoubtedly is a Catholic country. The name for it is “anti-clerical,” which is a distinction without a difference. It palliates the excesses of the Commune, while it opposes freedom of education.
There seems, unfortunately, to have been too much truth in what Mgr. Dupanloup said early in the year when speaking of the university question: “To make us love the republic, the first thing done is to identify it with a war against religion.” And the venerable prelate’s words received strong confirmation from so decidedly un-Catholic a writer as the Paris correspondent of the London Times, who wrote to that journal while the Chamber was still fresh from the elections: “On observing the attitude of the Chamber it is evident that the religious controversy is the great motive of all its passions. In the last Assembly, at least in its early days, every speaker courting applause had only to attack the Empire. In the present, as yet, the most frantic plaudits are reserved for whoever attacks not only the clergy, but any creed whatever. This is a fresh discord about to be added to so many old ones.”
If there is any truth in the report of Prince Bismarck’s views of the French elections as given in the letter of a German diplomatist, extracts from which appeared in a Rouen newspaper, the prince-chancellor agrees with both of these views. The report in question at least smacks of the man.
“The chancellor,” says the German diplomatist, “does not appear to be affected in any particular way by the result of the elections. In a conversation I had with him a few hours ago he remarked: ‘I doubt if the French Radicals will get into power; but should they, I am sure they will begin eating the priests before they tackle the Germans; the task is so much easier, and I have no desire to balk their appetite in that direction.’”
On December 31, 1875, the French National Assembly was dissolved, though its actual dissolution only took place in March, 1876, at the meeting of the new Chambers. The elections followed, and the voice of the people was certainly for a republic. The question of education
immediately became a great subject of debate. In July, 1875, was passed a law allowing mixed juries, composed half of examiners appointed by the state and half of their own professors, to question the candidates for degrees, and decide whether or not to grant the degrees. Not a very monstrous concession, surely, yet on the strength of it the Catholic University of Paris was founded and inaugurated on January 10, 1876. This was too much for republicans of the Gambetta and Victor Hugo stamp. Accordingly, to M. Waddington, “an Englishman by birth and education, and moreover a stanch Protestant,” as the Paris correspondent of the London Times triumphantly announced to that journal, was confided the Ministry of Education. It seems that M. Waddington was actually born in France, his father being an Englishman who was there naturalized, but the rest of the description is accurate enough. Of course M. Waddington’s stanch Protestant conscience could not allow of this concession to Catholics, whatever his English education might have done. He moved immediately to repeal clauses 13 and 14 of the law of July, 1875, which embodied the concessions above mentioned.
Now, what is this system of state monopoly of education in France against which the Catholic conscience rebelled? It owes its origin to the despotic genius of the first Napoleon, and we cannot do better than describe it in the words of a critic who will, in the eyes of non-Catholics at least, be above suspicion: “He [Napoleon I.] formed one great university,” says the London Times, “which was only the state acting as an autocratic teacher. The chief dignitary of that university was the Minister of Public Instruction, and all the officials, from the highest to the lowest, were servants of the government. The state appointed all the professors in the Sorbonne, the College de France, the law schools, the Polytechnic School, the Military College, and the crowd of Lycées throughout the country. Indeed, the state does so still.” It will be seen how open was such a system to abuse, particularly when the “state” in France has changed hands half a dozen times since Napoleon organized his system. “The state alone could grant degrees in Medicine, Law, and even Theology. The system was completed
by the stipulation that no one could open even the pettiest of infant schools or the greatest of colleges without ministerial authority. Thus the state could despotically decide what books should be studied by every scholar in France, by whom and how each should be taught, what moral or political ideas should be spread through every school or college, and what amount or kind of knowledge should be exacted from every candidate for the practice of medicine or the bar. No more rigid system of intellectual despotism was ever fashioned by the wit of man.”
After a prolonged, fierce, and bitter debate, M. Waddington carried his motion through the Chamber of Deputies, but it was happily thrown out in the Senate; and there the matter stands.
If French republicanism is made to assume a distinctly anti-Catholic character on the part of those who look upon themselves as the only true republicans in France, then France cannot hope for a good government from it. It remains for the Catholics to show and prove themselves the veritable republicans by devoting themselves absolutely to the country and the government as they stand. They have the game in their own hands. The French nation seems to be profoundly and reasonably mistrustful of kings and emperors. Yet a republic in which Victor Hugo, Gambetta, and the apologists and leaders of the Commune are to be the chief actors would be worse than the Empire. France would have had revolution ere this only for the strong, wise, and just man who holds the reins of power with so firm a grasp, and swerves not an inch either to the “Right” or to the “Left.” What a contrast between Marshal MacMahon and our own soldier-President! We can only continue to hope for the best from all parties. Time may teach them to coalesce and deal fairly with all. Could they only do this, the mightiest bulwark would be raised up on the continent of Europe against the threatened encroachments of absolutism on the one hand and the madness of socialism on the other, and in this France would attain to a height of power and true greatness that no king or emperor ever brought to her.