“Ask M. Guitrel to come in,” said Loyer.
Seated at his desk, the Minister was hardly visible behind the heaps
of paper piled upon it; he was a little spectacled old man, with a
grey moustache, watery eyes, and a sniff--a cynical, cantankerous
old fellow, but an honest man who, in spite of the power and honour
that had fallen to his lot, still had the appearance and manner of a
professor of the law. He took off his spectacles and wiped them, for he
was curious to see the Abbé, the candidate to the episcopal dignity,
who had been backed by so many brilliant society women.
Madame de Gromance, the pretty provincial, had been the first to call
upon him at the end of December. She had told him, without beating
about the bush, that he must appoint the Abbé Guitrel to the see of
Tourcoing. The old Minister, who still loved the perfume that clings to
a pretty woman, had kept the little hand of Madame de Gromance for a
long time between his, stroking with his thumb the bare space between
the glove and the sleeve where over the blue veins the skin is softest.
He had not gone further, however, because he was getting old, and
everything was an effort to him, and also he was afraid of appearing
ridiculous in her eyes, for he still had his share of vanity. His
words alone savoured of impropriety, and, according to his invariable
custom, he inquired for Madame de Gromance’s “old Royalist,” as he
familiarly called her husband. His eyes had become tearful behind their
bluish glasses, and his face had creased itself into a thousand little
wrinkles at the excellence of the jest.
The idea that the “old Royalist” was a wronged husband filled the
Minister of Justice and Public Worship with what really was inordinate
glee. As he thought of it, he looked at Madame de Gromance with
more curiosity, interest, and pleasure than was perhaps in the case
justifiable, but from the ruins of his amorous nature he was building
a series of mental amusements, the most intense of which was to gloat
over the misfortune of M. de Gromance in the very presence of its
voluptuous cause.
During the six months in which he had been Minister of the Interior in
a former Radical Cabinet, he had received from Worms-Clavelin private
and confidential notes, telling him all about the Gromance ménage,
so that he knew all there was to know about Clotilde’s lovers, and
delighted in the knowledge that they were numerous. He had received the
beautiful petitioner with every kindness, promising to look into M.
Guitrel’s case, but committing himself no further, for he was a good
Republican, and did not believe in subordinating affairs of state to a
woman’s caprice.
Then, too, the Baronne de Bonmont, who was reputed to have the most
beautiful shoulders in Paris, had spoken in favour of Abbé Guitrel at
the Élysée soirées. Finally, Madame Worms-Clavelin, the _préfet’s_
wife, a very charming woman, had whispered a word in his ear concerning
the good Abbé.
Loyer was very curious to see the priest who had fluttered so many
feminine hearts. He wondered whether he was about to behold one of the
great sturdy becassocked fellows that of latter days the Church has
thrown into public gatherings, sending them as far even as the Chamber
of Deputies, one of those young, full-blooded, outspoken clerical
tribunes of the people--headstrong and shrewd, with a power over simple
men and women.
The Abbé Guitrel entered the study, his head upon one side, and holding
his hat before him in his clasped hands. He was not unprepossessing,
but his desire to please, and his respect for the powers that be, made
his habitual carefully assumed priestly dignity less apparent than
usual.
Loyer noticed his three chins and domed head, his portly form, his
narrow shoulders, and his unctuousness. He was quite an old man too.
“What do the women want with him?” he thought.
The interview was trifling on either side; but, after questioning M.
Guitrel on some points of ecclesiastical administration, Loyer gathered
from the fat man’s replies that his views were both sensible and fair.
He remembered that the Director of Public Worship, M. Mostart, was
not against the nomination of Abbé Guitrel to the See of Tourcoing.
Truth to tell, M. Mostart had not given him much information on the
subject. Since there had been such a rapid succession of clerical and
anticlerical cabinets, the Director of Public Worship had not dabbled
overmuch in the making of bishops; the matter had become too delicate
of handling. He had a house at Joinville, and was fond of gardening and
fishing. His dearest dream was to write a chatty history of the Bobino
Theatre, which he had known in its palmy days. He was growing old, was
a prudent man, and did not stick obstinately to his own opinion. The
evening before he had said to Loyer, “I propose Abbé Guitrel, but
there’s nothing to choose between Abbé Guitrel and Abbé Lantaigne, it’s
six of one and half a dozen of the other!” Those were the very words of
the Director of Public Worship, but Loyer was himself an old doctor at
law, and always able to make nice distinctions.
M. Guitrel seemed to him sensible enough, and not too fanatical.
“You are not ignorant of the fact, Monsieur l’Abbé,” he said, “that the
late Bishop of Tourcoing, M. Duclou, tended to become intolerant in the
latter part of his life, and gave an unreasonable amount of work to the
Council of State. What is your opinion on the subject?”
“Alas,” replied the Abbé Guitrel, with a sigh, “it is quite true that
in his declining years, as he neared the period of eternal blessedness,
Monseigneur Duclou made some rather unfortunate declarations. The
situation was a difficult one then, but things have greatly altered,
and his successor will be able to labour quietly towards the
establishment of peace. What he will have to aim at is real peace. The
road to it is marked; he will have to enter upon it resolutely and
follow it to the end. As a matter of fact, laws dealing with education
and the Army do not give rise nowadays to any difficulties, and all
that really remains is the question of the taxation of religious
communities. This question, we must allow, is peculiarly important in
a diocese like Tourcoing, which, if I may say so, is plastered with all
kinds of religious institutions. I have studied it at length, and, if
you wish, can speak of the conclusions to which this study has led me.”
“The clergy,” said Loyer, “dislike parting with their money. That is
the truth.”
“Nobody likes it, Monsieur le Ministre,” returned Abbé Guitrel, “and
Your Excellency, such an adept in all that relates to finance, must
realize that there is a way of shearing the ratepayer without making
him complain. Why not use the same method with our poor monks, who are
too good Frenchmen not to be good ratepayers? You must bear in mind,
Monsieur le Ministre, that they are subject in the first case to the
ordinary taxes that everybody pays.”
“Naturally,” put in Loyer.
“Secondly, to taxes on inalienable property.”
“And do you complain of that?” inquired the Minister.
“Not at all,” replied the Abbé. “I am merely enumerating them
all--quick reckonings make long friends. Thirdly, to a tax of four per
cent on the income accruing from lands, houses, furniture, and money;
and, fourthly, they are liable to the increment duty, as established
by the laws of the 28th of December, 1880, and the 29th of December,
1884. It is only the principle underlying this last tax, as you know,
Monsieur le Ministre, that has been contested by several communities.
The agitation has not yet died down everywhere, and it is on this
point, Monsieur le Ministre, that I take the liberty of expressing the
views which would actuate me, were I to have the honour of occupying
the see of the Blessed Saint Loup.”
As a sign of attention, the Minister turned round in his chair, and
faced the Abbé, who went on in the following terms:
“As a matter of principle, Monsieur le Ministre, I disapprove of the
spirit of revolt, and dislike any tumultuous or systematic claiming
of rights, and in this I only comply with the Encyclical beginning
‘_Diuturnum illud_’ in which Leo XIII, following the example of St.
Paul, exhorts his people to obedience towards the civil authorities.
So much for principle; let us now look fact in the face. As a matter
of fact, I find that the religious in the diocese of Tourcoing are
placed in such different positions with regard to rates and taxes that
universality of action is thereby rendered exceedingly difficult. In
this diocese there are authorized and unauthorized communities, some
communities dedicated to works of charity among the poor, the aged, and
the orphan, and some whose sole aim and object is a life of spiritual
contemplation. They are taxed differently, according to their different
purposes. It is my opinion that the very opposition of their interests
breaks down resistance, unless their bishop himself directs the tenor
of their claims, a thing which, for my part, I should avoid, if I were
their spiritual head. I would willingly see uncertainty and division
among the communities of my diocese if by so doing I could ensure
the peace of the Church as a whole. As far as my secular clergy were
concerned,” added the priest in a firm voice, “I would answer for them
as a general answers for his troops.”
Having thus spoken, M. Guitrel apologized for having given such free
vent to his thoughts, and wasted the precious time of His Excellency.
Old Loyer made no answer, but he nodded approval. For a parson, Guitrel
was not so difficult to get on with after all, he thought.