BOOKS.

LETTERS OF A FRENCH COUNTRY VICAR.* ONE of the great charms of the best French literature is its simplicity,—a simplicity so lucid and naive that no translation can reproduce it. In our less expressive lan- guage the special essence evaporates, and French simplicity becomes almost infantine in its absence of all persiflage. And yet there is nothing like this childlike quality to awake a sense of reality in the reader. Whatever the best French authors take in hand, they at least produce the idea that they are speaking of things they know, and not merely writing for effect or to score a triumph for themselves. And this is essentially the case in M. Yves Le Qnerdec's Letters of a Country Vicar, and the second series, Let free d'un C Lirg de Canton, not yet translated.

In the present volume, life in a French village is the material dealt with. But the reader must remember that rural life in France is very different in many ways to rural Life in England, and the French village so ably described in these letters would answer more to a very small country town than to the ordinary village of one of our English counties. With this difference the French cure's duties and difficulties are much the same as those of the village parson in an out-of-the-way part of England, and these letters to a friend at a distance describe the every-day work and every- day struggle of a conscientious religious man, "not too good

• Letters of a Country Vicar. From the French of Yves Le Q mrdeo. By Mar a Gordon-Holmes,

for human nature's daily food." It is the life of one of the hundreds of self-denying village pastors who might be found, and indeed are found, in France and elsewhere. What makes the special interest of the French example is the terrible acrimony that modern politics have introduced among all classes. This affects their daily intercourse and colours all action. In English country life we have nothing answering to it. With us the farmer may be and often is interested in some local matters which touch his purse, and in a few cases his temper may be up and he may be a bit churlish with those whose interests oppose his. But as a rule acrimony does not exist in English country life. At the most, it may be occa- sionally found in some petty village magnate who, young at the duty of working with others, will introduce a note of personal animosity into a village council or a local vestry meeting. In French country life things are very different. Here politics colour everything. Each commune has its Mayor, who is often a less than half-educated peasant elected by his fellows of like nature on purpose to give a blow to the great house whose manners, if more polished, are certainly

not more appreciated by those below them. It is into this kind of country life—to be found everywhere in France—

that M. X—, the cure, finds himself sent. Before his arrival visions of Arcadian existence float before his eyes. With a human weakness with which all will sympathise he had con- ceived that his nomination would provide him with a freedom which as a curate he had not enjoyed. He would be his "own master at length," dividing his time between his church, his catechising. his library, and his little garden. Unfortunately such dreams are rudely dispelled. They are not for those who have work to do in the world, least of all if such work lies among the animosities of French political life. But being a man of exceptional energy and religious principle, he quickly realises the situation. On his first arrival he sees how the land lies. "Full of goodwill, ready to serve and love" his new parishioners, he meets with nothing but critical looks veiled by a sort of curiosity. As he passed up the village street "every one was at their doors," and they looked at him " as a peculiar animal." No doubt the present conflict between Church and State in France makes her clergy what we might think unduly sensitive. But it is a self-consciousness of uncertainty rather than the ordinary vanity of a man who thinks he has a right to consideration. From the first day the cure's difficulties begin. His respects must be paid to his parishioners, and who is the chief one with whom he must begin. The Mayor no doubt is the representative of the Government, and as such M. X— feels it his duty to visit him first. But the Mayor in this village is only a peasant with some money but no education. "He is a peasant of about fifty, whom I found in his grange shod with wooden sabots, dressed in thick blue cloth, with an old pot-hat, more rusty than greasy on his head, busy break- ing maize stalks to give to his oxen." This peasant is neither learned nor a clever politician :—

"About everything beyond his business and corporation he talks nonsense very pleasantly. He cites a little halfpenny district paper of the deepest red, which he reads conscientiously every day. He is a republican, swears by the late Gambetta and all the high priests of Opportunism. Otherwise he is a catholic ; I have seen Lim at mass these two Sundays, and know that he accomplishes his Easter devotions."

To complicate matters, the village possesses a real magnate in the person of the Marquis de Saint-Julien, whose family up to the present year had always provided the Mayors. Here, as often in England, the Marquis has got into hot water over his preserves. "He is fond of shooting, and will not allow the poor to shoot on his land." So he has been deposed from his honours, though whether the new Mayor, who wishes "all the regulations of the law to be observed," will satisfy people much better is an open question still. The new Mayor, however, is one of the people, and they "can talk to him when they like, and will not hesitate to give him notice to retire." The character of the last cure then comes on for criticism, out- spoken as village criticism is when the chance is given it. " Your predecessor was not amiable. He spoke to us in church as if we were servants or children ; but he had one quality which saved him a good many troubles—he treated everybody in the same way, and when he raged he fell upon everybody, rich and poor alike." The other parishioners, too, get

their share of description. "We are a rich people," said the Mayer, "who are not well educated, but we will not have people ruling us because they are richer and have a castle."

There are no great fortunes among the villagers; but they are by no means starving, and they have the French quality of cleanliness. They answer, no doubt, to the class in England who have their own little cottage and have continuous work. But perhaps the chief note of village politics in France—as indeed in England—is ignorance, and it is to combat this ignorance that M. X— sets himself, whether in the Mayor's cottage or in the castle of the Marquis de Saint-Julien. The character of the Marquis is very cleverly drawn. He is a Royalist, but of a rather more liberal type than some, and deeply resents being left out in the cold, so far as local politics are concerned. Every one having a vote, class jealousies are stamped on all local actions. But the Marquis, being a good Catholic, brings up his family in the fear of God, though tempered somewhat by mistrust and hatred of Republican democracy. The wounds received in the years of struggle cannot be forgotten in a day, at any rate by the side that has lost. Consequently when the new cure attends at the castle, after paying his respects to other parishioners first, he is received with frigid courtesy. But simplicity and goodness win the day, and M. X— learns the lesson that a little tact goes a long way towards healing wounds, and that if, as representative of the Government, the Mayor might claim first considera- tion, M. de Saint-Julien, as head of the Church Committee, is also a man of great local importance. One of the difficulties that lie before the clergy everywhere is the maintenance of their independence, and nowhere more so than in France. The cure, born under the Republic, has no inborn hatred of it. He is naturally inclined to view it with other eyes than those of M. de Saint-Julien, who has been through the struggle that has left him and his friends out in the cold. Any undue deference to the castle might greatly compromise the cure's relations with his other parishioners :—

" I am certainly jealous of my independence," he says to the Marquis ; "it is necessary for the accomplishment of my mission. But those who saw in my conduct a want of respect will see that they are mistaken. I do not know whether I am a republican or a democrat. The government of my country is a republic ; I found it established when I was born into public life. My father in the faith, Leo XIII., forbids me to combat it ; I have no natural inclination to do so, and shall abstain, therefore, from taking part in any constitutional opposition whatever. If that is being republican then I am republican, and do not see how I could be otherwise. I am even democratic if that means loving the small and humble and feeble, awl preferring them to the great and rich and powerful but if they mean by demo- crats those who wish to overturn the social hierarchy I am certainly not democratic in that fashion. All the social forces, magistrature, birth, fortune even, have a right to deference; and I am the last person who in outward bearing would wish to be wanting in it."

These are only some of the difficulties which the cure has to deal with, and there is not space to do more than tell of some of the ways in which he succeeds in turning a discon- tented and unfriendly parish into one where classes forget their differences in stretching out helping hands to each. Even M. de Saint-Julien is drawn into kindly intercourse with his fellows over improvements of land which touch every one. The peasants come to take a larger view of their responsibilities towards their families in moral and spiritual matters, and the children of the parish grow up in love and confidence with a vicar who never lectures, and who learns as well as teaches.

All this sounds simple enough, but it is only the deliberate bringing of the highest Christian principles to bear on these every-day concerns that will accomplish it. And there is one chapter devoted to an analysis of this motive power in relation to modern life. In an answer to one of M. X—'s long letters upon his aspirations and discouragement, M. Yves Le Querdec, in the person of the cure's friend, gives an able sketch of an ideal reconciliation of the Church and Society. He begins by recognising that it is only the small minority of men who will at any given time be acted upon by any one agency. But in this there is no need for despair,—" a little leaven leavens the whole." One family gained for Christ is the means of spreading the seed over many other fields. "What, then," he asks, " is this leaven which should preserve in societies the leaven of good works? What is this salt which should keep the world from putrefying dissolution ?,"

The answer given is profound in its faith and wisdom. The leaven is- " Those who adore the Father in spirit and in truth ; they are Christians. In order that society may be preserved from corrup- tion, that it may act and develop, is it necessary that Christians form the majority ; is it even necessary that all social authority be kept in Christian hands ? It does not seem as though Christ had looked upon that as indispensable. I hear it said that society

ought to become Christian or perish If by this is meant that every essentially anti-Christian law is also essentially anti- social, they are right ; for how could one live while putting oneself in opposition with the laws of life ? But if they mean that society ought to profess Christianity in all its laws, if they believe that practising and believing Christians alone are apt at governing well they seem to me to get beyond the truth Justice is the same for Christians and non-Christians ; it suffices to be a man in order to conceive it. Social needs press upon unbelievers as well as upon those who practise and believe ; every man, from the single fact that he is reasonable, is capable of discovering these needs."

So far all men are alike, but— "Every Christian ought to be a grain of preserving salt—a germ of progress. The Church should excite, direct, and regulate these activities ; thus the Easter mass will become frequented; the Christian sap will flow into habits ; and even laws although in the letter remaining outside Christianity will become animated by its

spirit Jesus does not want slaves as followers, but free men, children going and coming full of love and confidence in the house of their Father."

If once the Church and the State, or even the Church alone, could realise this, better days would dawn for all. On all sides may it not be said, "The sins of the fathers are visited on the children "?

We have left no space for any comparison between the method of the French cure and that of an English vicar.

But one thing is very plain. If all Roman Catholic priests were like the cure of St. Jnlien, and all Roman ends such as his, the reunion between the two great branches of the Catholic Church would not be far off. Of distinctly Roman doctrine, of the Vatican and its doings, not a trace is to be found. There are no anathemas on unbelievers, nor even on differing Christians,—a far more difficult attainment to some. If a phrase or two and the special use of certain

words were removed, the picture might well stand for one of our English hard-working, devoted clergy in town. We say

"town" rather than "country," for as already pointed out, there is no exact analogy between the French and English village. The possession of a Mayor and Corporation implies a larger sphere of local work, and therefore the great houses do not necessarily become so prominent as they are in English village life. It is only in France, too, that politics would bring people so sharply into collision. All the same, every vicar in charge of an English parish should read the book, though the crudeness and imperfection of the transla- tion make it desirable that all who can read French easily should read it in the original.