before speaking of fashionable dances, he had them performed before him by young ladies in their father's presence!

To those, therefore, who look ever so little below the surface, I repeat it, the Roman Catholic Church seems crumbling to its base. But has it a base? I trust

yet that it has. The separation of the temporal power of the papacy from the spiritual is not looked for with hope only by those who see in it the downfal of the whole Church. That hope is shared by some of the most devout members of the Church. The Abbate Passaglia's pamphlet expresses the true and genuine feeling of many French, as well as Italian, Roman Catholics. Papal censures will not drive these from cherishing such feelings; to what farther conclusions they may yet drive them to, the future will show.

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There are liberal Roman Catholics in France. There are men whose mind is open to all the currents of the present, men of the broadest and most popular sympathies, of the widest practical benevolence, who yet fulfil regularly the ordinances of their Church, and sedulously bring up their children in the practice of those ordinances. I am sorry not to have had time to study this most deeply interesting side of the Paris world more pletely. The class of persons I speak of are quite different from the enthusiastic ultramontanes, some of whom I knew intimately in my younger days, and of whom Montalembert is the most prominent and dashing embodiment. They form no part of the "parti-prêtre." I would fain have found leisure to ascertain how far their views of church reform would extend, where they think to stop on their present course. Speaking of what I have seen and heard, I can only say there are such men, with children around them, who give every prospect of growing up like their parents, and I can see as yet no more promising germ of hope for the future. than that which they afford.

That French Protestantism, by mixing itself up more completely with the

by the broader study of Christian antiquity, by its generous recognition of all that is truly catholic in Romanism, as testified by its present leading organs, is now powerfully contributing to help France to become "Christian after her own fashion," I have no doubt whatsoever. It is more and more identified with freedom of thought, with liberalism in politics. I can recollect the name of no Protestant among the cringing turncoats who have rendered themselves prominent under the imperial rule. But in its present state of internal dislocation, of professed "individualism," Protestantism has no real sympathy with that labour of social reconstruction which occupies the élite of the working classes, of which the "working associa tions" are till now the truest symbol, and of which the vague want is to be traced throughout every rank of society. The only form (one effort, some years ago, excepted) in which Christianity has as yet made itself really known to the working associations, and believed by them, has been exhibited to them by liberal Roman Catholics.

If then there be, as I trust, in these working associations the elements of a church of the future for France, it would seem as yet that its conscious Christianity, so to speak, its positive doctrine. and worship, are likely to come to it from the Roman Catholic side. Far

ther I cannot speculate. Yet I cannot help saying that I know of no country in which a truly national church might so easily come forth as in France. The strong sense of national unity, the tradition of Gallican independence, the yearnings of the time. for social union,-all seem to tend in this direction. The negative elements at least of the necessary church reform, instead of having to develop themselves, stare you, so to speak, in the face on all sides. Mariolatry, hierolatry,-which occupy already so small a place in the great Roman Catholic works of the grand siècle," amongst educated French Roman Catholics, of the male sex at least, may now be said to

So far, the Roman Catholic Church in France would seem to offer only the spectacle of an anti-national organization,-still threatening, but crumbling to its base under almost universal hatred and disgust,-kept up, on the one side, by its sway over the ignorant masses of the rural population, or over the female sex; on the other, by the ungracious support of a civil power which hates it and is hated by it, and knows neither how to live with it nor without it. Even within one of its own chosen spheres that of female influence-it seems conscious of its own impotency. I took up one day on a lady's table a volume entitled "Retraite des Dames," by a canon of St. Sulpice, I think, whose name I am sorry to have forgotten. A "Retreat," be it understood, represented formerly a period during which pious Roman Catholics withdrew temporarily into a convent, or other religious house, to give themselves up to devotional exercises. Now, it would seem to consist mainly in listening to a course of lectures by some particular preacher, and in going through a few observances. The book was the result of such a course -very pleasant and interesting reading -sharp, telling, pungent, flavoured with anecdotes,—with the slightest possible film of Mariolatry here and there, and really a good deal of floating Christianity. But it gave one all through the sense that the writer was fighting for a lost cause gallantly, audaciously, but with a foregone expectation of defeat. The opening chapter, or address, gave the tone to the book, "On the Uselessness of Retreats," the preacher pointing out the habits, the tempers, which would entirely neutralize any good effects of the practice. Repeatedly, in the course of the volume, he expresses his fears that his hearers will not profit by what he says. In one place, when denouncing the inconsistency of taking part in solemn religious exercises in the morning, and launching into gaieties in the evening, he openly declares that he knows that his advice will go for nothing. Between the whole tone of his

Catholic devotional writers of the seventeenth century there is an abyss. The whole of it amounts to little more than entreating his fair hearers not to be quite irreligious. He knows very well, he tells them, that they have to go into the world; all he begs of them is not to give themselves up quite to it; and, in cataloguing the reasons for their not doing so, the first is . . . that they will be more attractive thereby, since a woman who goes into the world and shows that she does not care for it, is sure to win more homage than one who is a slave to its caprices! What makes this style of argumentation more striking is, that the arguer himself is ashamed of it-blushes, as he says, to use it. You see evidently that it is the last resource of one who sees his influence escaping from him, and risks everything to retain a shred of it. There is a strange mixture of the sad and the ludicrous in another passage, where he complains of ladies for being such good theologians. Formerly, he says, the question was how much one should do for the love of God in a retreat; now it is how little. question put to the priest is always, "Is it forbidden to-?" and if he expresses a doubt on the lawfulness of the act, he is overwhelmed with authorities from the fathers, from religious works, from the practice of other clergymen, to prove that there is no positive prohibition on the subject. There are, indeed, in the book, some really fine pages on the love of God, and its effect in filling the otherwise empty soul; and, in quite a different line, some just, and manly, and muchneeded denunciation of the selfishness of spoiling children. But one must read the work in order to have an idea of the pains the poor canon takes to set off the truth he has to tell by his wit, so as never to be unpleasant when he wants to hit hardest. Nor is it possible to avoid smiling over his descriptions of dances and social amusements, with which he certainly has managed to get a very good acquaintance. To prevent scandal, however, as to the mode in which he has won it, he takes care to

The

before speaking of fashionable dances, he had them performed before him by young ladies in their father's presence!

To those, therefore, who look ever so little below the surface, I repeat it, the Roman Catholic Church seems crumbling to its base. But has it a base? I trust yet that it has. The separation of the temporal power of the papacy from the spiritual is not looked for with hope only by those who see in it the downfal of the whole Church. That hope is shared by some of the most devout members of the Church. The Abbate Passaglia's pamphlet expresses the true and genuine feeling of many French, as well as Italian, Roman Catholics. Papal censures will not drive these from cherishing such feelings; to what farther conclusions they may yet drive them to, the future will show.

com

There are liberal Roman Catholics in France. There are men whose mind is open to all the currents of the present, men of the broadest and most popular sympathies, of the widest practical benevolence, who yet fulfil regularly the ordinances of their Church, and sedulously bring up their children in the practice of those ordinances. I am sorry not to have had time to study this most deeply interesting side of the Paris world more pletely. The class of persons I speak of are quite different from the enthusiastic ultramontanes, some of whom I knew intimately in my younger days, and of whom Montalembert is the most prominent and dashing embodiment. They form no part of the "parti-prêtre.” I would fain have found leisure to ascertain how far their views of church reform would extend, where they think to stop on their present course. Speaking of what I have seen and heard, I can only say there are such men, with children around them, who give every prospect of growing up like their parents, and I can see as yet no more promising germ of hope for the future than that which they afford.

That French Protestantism, by mixing itself up more completely with the

by the broader study of Christian antiquity, by its generous recognition of all that is truly catholic in Romanism, as testified by its present leading organs, is now powerfully contributing to help France to become "Christian after her own fashion," I have no doubt whatsoever. It is more and more identified with freedom of thought, with liberalism in politics. I can recollect the name of no Protestant among the cringing turncoats who have rendered themselves prominent under the imperial rule. But in its present state of internal dislocation, of professed "individualism," Protestantism has no real sympathy with that labour of social reconstruction which occupies the élite of the working classes, of which the "working associations" are till now the truest symbol, and of which the vague want is to be traced throughout every rank of society. The only form (one effort, some years ago, excepted) in which Christianity has as yet made itself really known to the working associations, and believed. by them, has been exhibited to them by liberal Roman Catholics.

If then there be, as I trust, in these working associations the elements of a church of the future for France, it would seem as yet that its conscious Christianity, so to speak, its positive doctrine and worship, are likely to come to it from the Roman Catholic side. Far

ther I cannot speculate. Yet I cannot help saying that I know of no country in which a truly national church might so easily come forth as in France. The strong sense of national unity, the tradition of Gallican independence, the yearnings of the time for social union,-all seem to tend in this direction. The negative elements at least of the necessary church reform, instead of having to develop themselves, stare you, so to speak, in the face on all sides. Mariolatry, hierolatry, which occupy already so small a place in the great Roman Catholic works of the

"grand siècle," amongst educated French Roman Catholics, of the male sex at least, may now be said to

them by priestly folly among the less educated is evidently sorely felt. As to the faith in papal infallibility-besides that the whole history of the Gallican Church is a protest against it-I think it may fairly be left to square itself as it may with Passaglia's "Pro Caussâ Catholicâ" and the outcome thereof. The enforced celibacy of the clergy is felt on all sides as a danger to the whole of one sex, and to the youth of both. Germany was far less prepared for religious reform when the monk of Wittenburg placarded his theses on the indulgences. A single man could probably not do now a work which needs to go farther than his, which must be much more reconstructive than destructive. But a single earnest bishop and half-adozen earnest priests might, I believe, under God's spirit, entirely change the face of Christianity in France, and give a noble nation that which, most of all things, it wants, a truly Christian, but at the same time truly national, church. Perhaps the example of far-off Poland may contribute somewhat to this result.

I have endeavoured to show some of the grounds of hope which a recent survey has seemed to show me in Paris. I must remind the reader that, to discover them, he must dig somewhat deep below the surface. The surface itself is disheartening enough. A city, of which one half is given up to gaiety and extravagance, whilst the other half pines for work; an artificial stimulus given to public works, to keep up the show of prosperity, and occupy the dangerous classes; an abiding, all-pervading mutual distrust between the ruler and his people; an increase of sensual indulgence in all classes, of frivolity, or worse, among the young; an ever-increasing appetite for speculation, whilst speculation itself is becoming more and more identified with dishonesty; an enormous military force, a police force scarcely less enormous; the political press colourless and neglected; a com

plete absence of everything like public spirit; religious ministrations frequented and despised, the church prominent and hated; such is the picture which the great continental capital presented to me. A bitter sight indeed for all who feel the weight of present evil; bitter above all, no doubt, to those who cannot reach to the conviction which lies deep in the hearts of all, though they may not venture, or care, or choose to express it, that, sooner or later, the Third French Empire will pass away like an evil dream.

Where lies the chief danger to it? It lies, I believe,—and the belief was confidently expressed to me by several informants,-in that very army which is the mainstay of imperial power. The Third Napoleon dare not engage in long, still less in continual wars, lest the army should become too powerful; he dare not remain long at peace, lest it should become too liberal; he dare not reduce it overmuch, lest he should be too weak; he dare not increase it overmuch, for he knows very well that the more numerous it is, the more it must become identified with the people. It is already so identified, far more than is really imagined. I had an opportunity of listening to the familiar conversation of two gendarmes, old soldiers (though young in age), and it certainly was the freest I heard in France among strangers to myself. I learnt from it what abuses of power can be perpetrated in the military organization of France; how civil despotism and the suppression of public opinion react on the army itself; how much of manly dignity yet remains in the soldier; how he may submit to present injustice and look forward to future justice; how cheap, finally, the soldier-policeman may hold the regulations of which he is the minister. The talk of those two gendarmes would alone have sufficed to show me how much of moral weakness lies behind the military strength of the imperial despotism.