Lyon, March 17th, 1900.

THERE seems to be considerable misapprehension in the United States as to the status of the Catholic Church in France. “One iniquitous arrangement in France,” writes the Central Baptist, “is the support of the priesthood out of public funds.” In receiving stipends from the State the French clergy, however, are no more its debtors, nor its functionaries, than holders of French 3 per cents who receive the interest of their bonds. When that essentially satanic movement, known as the French Revolution, swept over this fair land, deluging it in blood, the wealth of the Church, the accumulation of centuries, was all confiscated by the hordes who pillaged and devastated, and killed in the name of Liberty, Fraternity, and Equality, until Napoleon restored order with an iron hand. A born ruler of men, this Corsican understood that the principal feature of the work of restoration must be the reorganization of the Catholic Church in France. Accordingly he concluded with the Pope the convention known as the Concordat. It was not possible in the dilapidated state of the country to restore the millions that had been stolen by those “champions of liberty who,” according to Macaulay, “compressed into twelve months more crimes than the kings of France had committed in twelve centuries.” Still less was it possible to rebuild many noble structures, and recover works of art sold by sordid harpies or destroyed by impious vandals. It was accordingly agreed (Arts. 13 and 14, Concordat) that in lieu of this restitution the State should henceforth pay to the Church, annually, the stipends of so many archbishops, bishops, curates, etc.

The Concordat constitutes an organic law of the State. The clergy receive their stipends, not as a salary, but as the payment of a debt due to them by the State. It is in vain, therefore, that efforts are made now to represent the Catholic clergy as salaried functionaries of the State. The act by which Waldeck Rousseau recently decreed the suppression of the stipends of certain bishops was wholly arbitrary, and, moreover, the violation of an organic law. It was the partial repudiation of a public debt, quite as dishonourable as if the payment of interest of three per cent bonds were withheld from certain bondholders.

The position of Protestant and Jewish ministers in France is entirely different. They do receive salaries which are purely gratuitous. The Revolutionists did not trouble them, and they had no part in the Concordat of 1801. We may say that the French Revolution was appeased, but it is not over by any means. No nation less well founded and grounded could have withstood as France has done the shocks and upheavals of a century.

To this day France is still profoundly Catholic, in spite of the millions of public money expended in so-called non-sectarian primary schools and colleges. Travellers stroll into French churches, in summer, at High Mass on Sundays at 9.30 or 10.30 generally, and because they find a very small congregation at this service they report that the churches are deserted and religion fast dying out. They ignore the fact that in these churches low masses have been said hourly since 5 a.m., so that people may comply with their duty, and then go off on their outing. Lyon has many large beautiful old churches, and many handsome new ones. Yet not one of them could contain all their parishioners if they wished to attend the same service.

For nearly twenty-five years the Government has been running its educational machine at immense cost, compelling the French to support schools they will not patronize, as well as those of their own choice. Nevertheless, State colleges and primary schools are so neglected that laws are being devised to compel parents to send their children to them. If all other means fail, the congregations of both sexes occupied in teaching will be suppressed. This is the Government’s programme. There is nothing so bad as the corruption of that which is best. France is still profoundly Catholic, and it is only natural that the struggle between good and evil should be sharp here. The forces of reaction and action are always proportionate. Hence it is that France has always been “the centre of Masonic history,” and of the Goddess Reason’s supreme efforts against Christianity. Her temperament, too, makes her a choice field for experiments.

We can therefore understand M. Waldeck Rousseau’s indignation when so many bishops openly expressed their sympathy with and admiration for the Assumptionist Fathers who were condemned recently—and condemned for what crime? For being an unauthorized association of more than twenty persons, when there are hundreds of other similar associations at the present moment.

Briefly stated, the present phase of the Church in France is simply the nineteenth-century phase of the struggles of Investiture in the Middle Ages; the secular power seeking to have and to dominate a national Church, whose ministers are to be nothing but state functionaries, bound to serve and to support the Government. This was the old pagan ideal, and every portion of the Church that has renounced allegiance to Rome has fallen into this condition. In England, in Russia, in the Byzantine Empire, in Turkey, in Africa—wherever there is a national Church—it is little better than a department of State. The Gallican Church narrowly escaped a similar fate in the days of Louis XIV. The Civil Constitution of the Clergy was another desperate and abortive attempt to nationalize and secularize the Church in France. Gloriously, too, her clergy expiated their momentary Gallican insubordination. All over France they were guillotined, drowned, and exiled, and imprisoned, en masse, rather than submit to the Civil Constitution of the Clergy. There is nothing more admirable in the history of Christianity than the conduct of the victims massacred in the convent of the Carmelites, converted into a prison by the Jacobins. Martyrs and confessors were as numerous as in the first centuries of the Church, and from their ashes arose a new French Church purified by poverty and suffering.

Never have institutions of learning and charity under religious direction been so numerous. No country has a clergy more zealous, more learned, more united with the Holy See than that of France to-day. No wonder then that the powers of darkness are devising means to destroy the new structure, so zealously and so laboriously raised on the ruins accumulated by the Revolution of 1790.

“Not on the feast day, lest there be an uproar among the people.” Violent measures would rouse French Catholics from their political apathy. The Government cannot afford to do this. Religious liberty must be destroyed by degrees—and herein lies the danger.