THE PRESENT CONDITIONS OF RELIGIOUS LIFE ON THE CONTINENT OF EUROPE, AND
THEIR LESSONS FOR THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND TO-DAY.
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.”