ST. GENEVIEVE’S PROTECTION

New Zealand Tablet, 1 April 1915, Page 15

ST. GENEVIEVE’S PROTECTION

Under date January 14, Lord Ashbourne writes as follows from Paris to the Dublin Freeman's Journal : Yesterday I went into a church near here. Mass was going on and a simple funeral of some poor man. Over the coffin was a large tricolor. ' By the side of the altar the flags of the Allies. "Under the alb of the priest one could see the red trousers of an infantry uniform, and, in the congregation, the men, about a third of whom had their heads in bandages, seemed to be mostly wounded. Near the door, waiting to be put on the coffin, were some simple bundles of palm leaves, tied with tricolor tape. A short time ago, Maurice- Barres, the well-known writer, went to the front to see some friends. He was entertained at luncheon by the staff of the army he was visiting. They told him he would have to respond to a toast. When the moment came the general got up and said : —Monsieur Barres, my dear comrades, there is not one of us, I think, who imagines he is a Napoleon. But there is not one of us who expects to see the end of this war. Each of us has already made the sacrifice of his life for France.’ And then raising his glass, he gave the toast: ‘La France.’ What could I add ? asked Monsieur Barres afterwards. At the end of August, the Germans were marching on Paris. Nearer and nearer they came, burning and destroying all before them. ‘ The inhabitants had no thought of a strategic retreat. All they knew was that every day brought the danger nearer to them. The Government withdrew to Bordeaux, and the chief organs of the press removed their offices to different parts of France. Over a million of the population fled the city; and my wife, who was staying in a hotel in the Avenue d’Jena, tells me that for a week, every night was made hideous by the rumbling of heavy military motor lorries rushing to the front. In that hour of darkness many a weary soul turned longingly to the memory of St. Genevieve, the patron of Paris and of France. People recalled how, in the year 451 A.D., Attila and his Huns, burning and destroying, were marching on Paris. The Saint prayed and fasted and comforted the inhabitants, telling them that the enemy would never reach Paris. Nearer and nearer they came, and then, suddenly, for no apparent reason, the Huns turned away and were attacked and beaten on the Marne. In the early days of September, last Autumn, a Triduum was ordered in honor of St. Genevieve. About this time, a man 1 know, a ‘ veteran,’ was helping to guard the railway at La Ferte sous Jouarre. All at once the Germans appeared, advancing, and there were no other troops in sight. ‘Nous sommes foutus,’ said my friend in the soldiers’ language. Presently, for no apparent reason, les Bodies turned aside and began to run, ‘comma des voleurs.’ Then some British soldiers came by, also running, and, some time afterwards there was the sound of guns in the distance. To-day, if you go up the Mont Ste. Genevieve to the quaint little old church of "St. Etienne du Mont, which contains the shrine of Stef Genevieve, you will find candles burning and crowds praying round the shrine. Your readers will now have some idea of what the atmosphere of Paris is like. There is something at once terrible and grand about it. Imagine my feelings when I saw in the English papers, about that futile discussion on Ireland in the House of Lords. I hasten to assure my fellow-countrymen that, in France at least, -the situation is understood, and that, everywhere, X have met with the warmest appreciation of the attitude of our people. “ N ’