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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.
"The tradition of the catacombs revived; a cellar was transformed into
a church (while the town was under bombardment) and here the Bishop read
his mass. The priests threw off their 'soutanes' to become police and
firemen, moving men and grave diggers. One of them, de Bonnieres, of
noble birth, went every morning, braving the bullets which whistled
about his ears, into the suburbs begging the soldiers for the scraps,
left over from their meals, to distribute these pittances among the
starving poor of Arras."