New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1915-04-15

European construction ! looked gov"
into the hotel office. There sat wom-
an clerk, alono and, for all she knew,
unobserved. She was in black; she had
lain her arms down on the desk, she
had dropped her head on her arms ana
the trembling of her shoulders showed
that she was weeping bitterly: :,
Yet IL you would truly understand
the spirit Of grief which underlies. all
France you must visit tho churches'
There, before the affairs OF the common
faith, the French people show their
souls as they are. -,
had heard something Of the old
Church OF Notre Dame des VICTORIES
Before certain woodworking
statue of the Madonna in this church
French officers are wont 10 vow theh
swords in case they return alive. l
went, in the spirit Of the tourist, TO see
this sight. | had no sooner entered
the door than ] began TO feel Ike an
impudent intruder
Grief Shows In Church.
A mass was proceeding, and although
this was week day the church was al
most full with women and a few old
men. Not three women among them
all wore anything but black. They had
crowded the little kneeling chairs
which serve for pews in Continental
churches close up TO the altar. Ihey
knelt in huddlcd attitude, which
showed an utter abandonment to grief
and prayer. Before the altar burned
great sheafs of tall candles, each lit by
some devotee, and each representing
some life out there on the line. Be
meath these candles were growing up
stands Of swords -votiye offerings OF
soldiers so badly wounded as 20 be
useless for further military purposes,
but still alive and grateful. over the
whole scene there brooded, thicker than
the incense, a feeling Of dramatic in
tensity like that which precedes a
great moment in the theatre.
Ny attention fixed itself on those
candles. perfect symbols of the precious
lives out there on the great line. The
leather curtains which guard the doors
would open now and then as n new
worshipper entered. The little draft OF
air would blow through the candles
and ] found myself straining my eyes
anxiously to see If any Of them went
out. They symbolized life in war. Left
to themselves they would burn out in
their appointed time and disappear into
thin vapor and a few gatherings, which
is like the normal course OF human
life. War is the noxious breeze which
blows them out while the shaft is still
straight and clean and full of uses.
All war stood revealed IN that early
mass at the Church of Notre Dame des
Victories.
Yesterday was Palm Sunday, and
- L I n tr~Ff
Procession Of the Host in the Sacre
Cnur, that great, pretentious, some
what banal church with which Rome
has crowned Montmartre. We found a
place in a gallery from which we could
witness the spectacle as a whole. The
great nave was crowded to its full ca
pacity, and here again the prevailing,
the universal, color was black, so that
a family of children in white on the
outskirts Of the crowd appeared garish
by contrast. Viewed purely as spec
tacle, the thing was extraordinary. The
mems societies of the parish occupied
the nave. Save for a half dozen SOL
diers, who had later the honor Of car
rying the canopy over the Host, these
were all middle aged or old. When the
time came for the procession, the nave
night with lighted candles. These men,
bearing tr-colored banners embelished
with the symbols of their faith, led the
procession through the aisles and the
ambuatOry. As the Host passed, sec
ton after section of the crowd knelt
and rose; it was like slow jet of wind
blowing across a field Of blasted and
blackened grain.
But the sermon it was which brought
out the full emotion of the congrega-
ton. Mainly il was q doctrinal dis
course concerning the significance OF
Palm Suday. The priest who was
preaching touched only lightly upon
the war. This was the time, he said
when France had most need Of her
faith-faith in victory, faith in Heaven
for those who had died fighting the
good fight. | heard behind me hun
bred tiny suspirations of breath.
turned. All about, the women who sat
in the galleries were weeping. | looked
back at the floor. The black field had
broken out into tiny fecks of white
which were handkerchiefs. The men in
the central group were weeping with
the same quiet intensity as the women
in the outskirts. And every one oil
them, you knew, was thinking Of some
special soldier living out there on the
line or buried long ago in tho devas
tGted North or lying unburied in the
No-Man 's-Land between the trenches.
left the Sacr6 Cpur yesterday witt
the feeling that, could I grasp this
sorry scheme of things entire, I would
find it in me 20 mould into the new
world of hearts desire an old-fash
toned, fiery, eternal hell-not Tor hin
/ who has murdered for sudden lust o.
hate nor for him who has yielded e
/ the uncomfortable impurities witt
which he was born-not fos any o.
/ these vulgar sinners, but s"Iely fol
/ that handful of men in Europe who's,
/ greed Of power and hardness. Of hear
and denial of human riGzt hav,
/ brought this universal suffering on Eu
rope.
Possibly he oldest manifestation o
war in Paris Is the present condition
of the Latin Quarter. The younl
Frenchman of the Quarter. whether h,
be really a worker in the arts or &
mere pOseur, wearing a beri and Ions
hair for the tourist TO see, has gon,
20 the front. OF 400 students at tn,
Ecole des BeauX Arts. 1900 went on
al the first call. and three-fourths Of
those who survive are in the trenches
They left behind only few cripple
and foreigners. such as Russians. ma
tives of the Balkans and occasiona
Americans and Englishme1. There wer,
also a few Italians up the last month
but most of these have been called C
their own colors.
Models Straits Desperate.
en- who depend for their lives i'm on,
way or another upon the activities Of
the Quarter. The war bears hard upor
them Few Of them are married, there
/ fore they do not receive even the al
lowance of a franc and a quarter 4