p. 253 | An Antidote to the Paris Commune

Seventh-Day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Thursday, April 15, 1880

FromAdvent Review and Sabbath Herald, Vol. 55, No. 16

An Antidote to the Paris Commune.

The following article, besides being a narrative of great interest in itself, showing the good work that is being done in Paris by a presentation of the simple principles of the gospel in contrast with the hollow forms and superstitions of an effete and anti-Christian priesthood, may also contain many good hints to the workers in our missionary cause. It is from The Christian Union of March 24, 1880:—

In order to describe Paris socially, we must divide the city by two lateral and two vertical planes. Of the three lateral divisions, the upper third consists of the aristocratic and literary classes, the middle third includes the tradesmen, while the lower third is made up mainly of communistic artisans and laborers. The vertical divisions give us one-half of Paris, through all its grades, from top to bottom, Roman Catholic. Perhaps three-fourths of the remaining half are atheistic. Only one-eighth of Paris remains, a column running through all planes of society, which may be looked to in the interest of Protestant religion and morality. The communistic third of the city has been for ages, as everybody knows, the lighted shell in Europe. Ever since 1466, when malefactors and vagabonds from all countries were publicly invited to come to Paris, and recruit a population decimated by the plague, this under third of the French capital has been what Victor Hugo calls it,—a “smoking volcano,”—a mass of 200,000 ouvriers, educated by centuries of riot, despising the church, distrusting the government, welded into a political and social unit, acute, daring, desperate,—a force of ruin, like the red horse of the Apocalypse, both the dread and the despair of Christendom.

It is necessary to emphasize these familiar facts in order to bring into relief what follows. The surprising and novel feature is that now for nine years this mad horse of Parisian communism has not slipped the halter in his stall. The crushing vengeance dealt out by the Nationals to the Commune in 1871 may partly account for this unwonted tranquillity; but this of itself cannot fully explain it. It must be remembered that the past nine years have been anything but monotonous years in the political history of France. On the contrary, abrupt and frequent changes have taken place. Ministry has succeeded ministry. The Assembly has been often in a blaze. The strife of parties has never been more acute. Why, then, for nine years, has the old riotous scream been unheard in the streets of Paris? What has quieted Belleville, that “bloody quarter”?

The police of Paris answer, “The McAll Mission.” Dr. Horatius Bonar says, “The gospel has come in between Paris and revolution.”

It was in August of 1871, just after the outbreak of the Commune had been suppressed, that a Highland Scotchman, pastor of the Congregational church in Hadleigh, Lancashire, the Rev. R. W. McAll, came with his wife to tarry a few weeks at the French capital. While there, he distributed a few French tracts. Noticing how cordially they were received, he proposed one day to penetrate the dreaded communistic quarter, Belleville. His wife accompanied him. Taking their stand on a crowded street, they offered their tracts to the passers by. Soon a threatening mass of workingmen were assembled. Suddenly a young, stalwart ouvrier broke through the crowd, and, addressing Mr. McAll, said, “Are you a priest?” “No.” “Do you come to set up a new church?” “No.” “Well, sir,” the workman continued, “we are to a man done with the priests. We distrust the churches, but if you can bring to us a religion of freedom and reality, there are thousands who want it.”

The young workman was the “man from Macedon.” Mr. McAll resigned his pastorate in England, came back to Paris, hired a hall in Belleville, and not without fear and trembling, invited the workingmen to attend a Sunday evening gospel meeting. At first, suspicion was aroused. Threats were heard. Assassination was hinted at, but the police stood by. At the first meeting, forty persons attended; at the next, one hundred. The movement spread with undreamed-of facility and rapidity. That was in January, 1872. Now twenty-three missionary stations shine out every night in the godless city. In the year 1872 four stations were established. In 1873 the number had risen to eight; in 1874, to eleven; in 1875, to seventeen; in 1876, to nineteen; in 1877, to twenty-two; in 1878, to twenty-three. Reports have not yet been made public for 1879. Meetings at these stations are held every night. Ten thousand workingmen every week attend them. The work has popularized itself with an ease and power unparalleled in the annals of France.

To-day Belleville would turn out to a man to fight for Mr. McAll. The police welcome the missions as their most efficient allies, and urge the people to attend them. Everywhere the idea is that expressed by the young workingman at the outset,—“a religion of freedom and reality.” The French Protestant churches had shared with the Roman Catholic the suspicion and hatred with which the Communists regarded every form of organization in church or state; but here they say is “no church, no priest, no payment demanded.”

The method of the meetings is very simple. Everything that would suggest a church service is avoided. Even prayers are introduced only on Sundays. On entering the room—which is generally a shop, located on the track of travel, with a sign made of printed calico hung out at the door—a magazine and a Bible are handed to every one. The magazine is frequently secular. The French translation of the British Workman is the journal most in demand. Then follows singing—simple gospel songs, alternating with readings from the Bible and brief addresses. Mr. McAll says, “In every service, at every station, the Bible is read first of all. Every meeting, without exception, from the beginning of the mission, has been conducted with the direct aim of bringing the Bible as God’s word, and Christ as the atoning Saviour, directly before our hearers.” It would seem that religion, as an affair of the heart and life, is something absolutely new to the people of Paris. The workingmen are profoundly interested in the Bible. It is to them a new book. The true democracy of the New Testament, “All ye are brethren,” is an idea which at once fascinates and subdues these lawless ouvriers.

As a specimen of this common feeling in Paris, a wealthy man said, “No one in Paris cares to be religious. The priests have made the road to Heaven so difficult no one cares to go. Only the women go to church. It would be a disgrace to us men to attend church.”

Hitherto this has been the prevailing feeling, but in these gospel meetings, with their deft mingling of freedom and faith, the French artisan now finds a quality which at once conciliates his independence and charms his heart. There is very little opposition. No separate church is established. When a man is converted, he is sent to the nearest Protestant chapel. It ought to be said that the French Protestant pastors have without jealousy lent a willing hand to this movement.

And the effect of it has been simply magical. Belleville tranquil, even when they are fighting duels in the French Assembly! The fierce communistic frenzy quieted for nearly a decade of years! France given an opportunity to settle herself into the steadiness of a dignified Republic! Europe spared untold horrors! Let me quote from an eye-witness: “No city in an uproar. No orator like Pere Hyacinthe. No vast crowds. No ambitious enthusiasm. No monks or nuns proclaiming their errand by their costume. No show. No processions. No banquets. No fête, beyond a tea party or a Christmas gathering. No confessional. No compulsion. No bribery. It is the tranquillity of the work that wins. It is no storm that has fallen upon Paris, but the dew, bright and silent.”

The lesson of such a movement is a stirring one, for it is by a work like this, so graceful and gracious, so vital in its spirit, so simple in its method, so broad and blessed in its results, that the most effective answer is given to current rationalistic criticism upon the name and the fame of Jesus. This one precise fact, that when the bayonet and cannon had failed, when the famous police organization of Paris had proved incompetent, when the finished repressive devices of Assembly and Academy had been as parchment before flame, the simple story of Jesus and his free salvation has matched the situation in Belleville, and pacified for nine years the wild beast of the French Commune. This is a fact which must be explained, before Christianity can be explained away.