The employment of the evening depends upon the company. The English, as a rule, observe Sunday abroad much as they do at home, except, of course, that being in a hotel, they are thrown more into living in public. Many retire to their rooms and read. But often before they do so, in hotels frequented by them,—particularly if exclusively so,—the young people, led by some one at the piano, will join in singing hymns. Even in hotels where foreigners are the principal visitors, English people present will sometimes strike up a hymn. This takes place usually to the apparent enjoyment of the foreigners, who seem not to know what to do with themselves on Sunday. They do not read, at least to the extent to which the English do. It is not unusual for them to have recourse to cards, or drafts, or chess, while their children romp about in a way at which we should be scandalized at home. Occasionally a visitor will play and sing at the piano secular tunes and songs, though when our countrywomen go to the piano they rarely select anything but sacred pieces.
One Sunday evening I recollect its being announced that there would be a concert by professional musicians in the salon, from which, before the concert began, nearly all the English quietly withdrew. It was not repeated in the same house while we were there.
In travelling, those who desire to have a book for Sunday reading, ought to take one or more such books with them. They are not procurable in shops or in circulating libraries. Possibly they may be, though probably not of a high class, at Tract Dépôts; but where these depots are to be found, may not always be easy to learn. However, in season places the churches have generally small libraries attached to them, which are useful to those who are there for the season. A passing traveller of course cannot avail himself of them. It is not a bad plan to have the monthly magazines sent by book post to one’s foreign address, and when read they may prove very acceptable gifts to others.
It was not often that we were induced by curiosity to go into a Roman Catholic Church on a Sunday. The proceedings are unintelligible to the uninitiated, and the service seems to be all performed for the people by the priests, who are ‘the Church.’ Where there is singing or vocal music, it is done by the priests alone, aided by boys, and sometimes, though very rarely, by women. I recollect, when in Antwerp many years ago, on occasion of some great festival the choir was augmented by a number of (concealed) female singers with the sweetest voices. But the congregation never joins in the singing. They listen, just as congregations do at home to anthems performed by choirs, which it would require a knowledge of music, acquaintance with the piece, a music book, and a good voice to enable them to take part in. The service is conducted by the priests, with their backs to the people, these backs being generally covered with an ornamented dress, sometimes exhibiting an inserted cross in colours, sometimes white satin with rich gold embroidery, but varying according to the rank held by the priest, and according to the place, and doubtless according, in some churches, to the importance of the day. The chief priest appears to be reading a large book before him on the altar, and mumbling something to himself; and every now and then he and they (when more than one) perform a genuflexion or change position, and sometimes he turns round to the audience and says something inaudibly, while a boy tinkles a bell as a signal to the people at certain stages of the service. The ceremony is familiar to all who have been abroad. This priest service is no doubt intended, with other things, to exalt the priesthood and to swell its power, the grasp and severity of which the world has unfortunately too often felt. It is only right, however, to say that the people listen devoutly, and seem to know something at least of what is going on, and can follow it and understand when to rise up and when to kneel down. Many of them hold in their hands the book containing the service, which is printed both in Latin and in their own tongue; and were this book (after which the Prayer Book of the Church of England is modelled) purged of some erroneous matters, such as the prayers to the Virgin Mary and Saints, it contains a service to the words of which Protestants probably could not object. Mass sometimes begins very early in the morning; and after it has been said by the priest (I think it does not take much longer than half an hour), the congregation clears out and is succeeded by another, which pours in, before whom the service is repeated. People who have so heard mass apparently consider they have done their duty for the day so far as church worship is concerned.
When a priest preaches, which seems to be only rarely, and possibly only when he has the faculty, he mounts the pulpit, by his side in which a large crucifix is stuck, and addresses the people shortly but with great animation, his eloquence increasing like the Welsh preachers as he proceeds, till he reaches his climax in such a fervent heat that the perspiration will burst from his brow. No doubt he succeeds in stirring his auditors, but I never could make out sufficiently what was said to know exactly the purport of discourse. But the blessed Virgin is frequently invoked.
Roman Catholicism, however, must be losing ground fast, as the people increase in knowledge and desire to be free from clerical yoke; and it is astonishing to what an extent Protestantism, everywhere tolerated now, prevails in countries formerly so pope and priest ridden. A book, called A Guide to Evangelical Work on the Continent of Europe, and on the Southern and Eastern Shores of the Mediterranean, published by the Committee of the Foreign Evangelical Society (London: James Nisbet & Co., 21 Berners Street; Paris: 4 Place du Théâtre Français, Rue de Rivoli), gives an idea of the extent of this work.[12] I have tried to make up some statistics from it, but have not found my results to agree in numbers with the prefatory notes prefixed to some of the sections. I observe, however, that in France the Reformed Church, under the control of the State, is by far the largest of the Protestant denominations, and it is stated in the guide to consist of 483 parishes and 573 pastors. But on reckoning up the churches named in the book, it seems only to mention 124 Reformed Churches. Probably the explanation is that all parishes are not given. Of the Church of the Augsburg Confession, or Lutheran Church, there seem to be 63; of the Methodists, 7; of the Société Evangélique de France, 25; of the Société Centrale, 70; of the Wesleyan Church, 39; of the Free Church, 63; Independents, 6; Baptists, 6; Société Evangélique de Genève, 14; Society of Friends, 1; other denominations, 11 churches or stations. In all these the service is in the native French, and intended for the natives, and there is not a town of any importance in which there is not one or more of the different denominations represented by a church, so that it will be seen that Protestantism must be spreading and taking a deeper hold on the people. In Paris alone there are, inter alia, the following French Protestant churches:—Reformed Church, 19; Lutheran, 16; Evangélique de France, 7; Baptist, 1; French Wesleyan, 6. The native population, besides, throughout France, is reached by a multitude of Protestant or Evangelical associations and institutions and schools, such as Young Men’s Christian Associations, mission homes, orphanages, etc., and there are not less than 85 Bible or Tract Dépôts. I state all these figures salvo justo calculo, and with the impression that they only represent a portion of the work, and they are at least short of the figures given in the prefatory ‘note’ on the Protestant Churches of France.
In some cases, as at Biarritz, French service is conducted in the English Church; in others, as at Lucerne and Chateau d’Œx, the English service is held in the native Protestant Church.
At Mentone, the French Protestant Church, under the pastoral care of a most worthy man, M. Delapierre, is largely attended by English-speaking people. Indeed, I would say that English, Scotch, and Americans of all denominations form during the season by far the principal part of the congregation. We used almost regularly to attend this church during one of the Sunday services, going to one of the other churches for the other service. A layman commenced by reading a short liturgy or formulary of devotion, then a portion of Scripture, and, having given out a hymn or canticle, as it is termed, left the pulpit, and the minister taking his place, after extempore prayer, preached a sermon. M. Delapierre spoke slowly and distinctly, and it was easy, comparatively, to follow him. His thoughts were always good and striking, though simple, often rising to an elevated and earnest eloquence, calculated to make a deep impression. He was much respected and esteemed by all, but unfortunately was, or rather is, a man of delicate health; so that he only took one of the Sunday services, and had for a short time to leave Mentone for relaxation and change of air. His assistants (young men) we never could follow so well. Hymn-books, with the canticles set to music, were placed in all the pews; and generally at the close of the service a doxology was sung, being a verse commencing, ‘Gloire soit au Saint Esprit,’ to the tune called Hursley, the old German melody to which the hymn ‘Sun of my Soul’ has been wedded. There is a striking and puzzling peculiarity in the French singing, for the words are not sung as spoken. Thus père is pronounced peray. The singing also is in slow time. The Communion was dispensed on the first Sunday of the month, all who desired being, without distinction of sect, invited to attend, and was conducted very much in the same way as in Congregational churches at home.
We once witnessed in this church the baptism of an infant. The father and mother, nurse and baby, and another man and woman—all stood up in front of the reading-desk below the pulpit, to which M. Delapierre descended, and took the baby, which had been squalling, over his left arm. Holding up his hand, and looking down upon it, its great eyes looked up into his either in terror or in wonder, and all was still, not even the water sprinkling disturbing its equanimity. The preliminary service or address seemed to be somewhat long.
No gown or vestment of any kind was used in the church beyond the wearing of black clothes and a white tie, although I believe a gown is worn in many other French churches. Everything was conducted with the reverent simplicity so consistent with true worship. The singing was assisted by a harmonium, amply sufficient for the size of the church, which I suppose might not be seated for many more than two hundred.