An Extraordinary (Form) Weekend in Remote Rural France: The Oasis Lives up to its Name Part I

Last Friday evening an English priest came to spend the weekend with us. His visit had been planned for a long time and as my regular readers know, I have been busy getting ready for something very special over a considerable period and that the preparations have recently curtailed my blogging activities more than somewhat.

This is an introductory post to a series of reports on the events that took place during Father's stay. First however, so that you will realise just how extraordinary and historic a weekend it was, I need to give you a little description of our village, our house within it, and of our private chapel within that.


Before embarking on this, I must tell you that several photos were taken on Saturday and Sunday and that these will be published on this blog during the course of the coming week.

The Village:
When we first bought our house here in 1989 one of its major attractions was that the village Church is almost directly opposite. In those days there was Mass each Sunday and the bell rang the Angelus three times everyday. We had a Parish Priest then, but he had to serve nine parishes in the Canton. Not long after our present bishop arrived, around 1993, he issued a communique warning all the outlying villages that if they could not produce a regular Mass attendance of 13 souls, their weekly Sunday Mass would be discontinued. This village like 6 others could not fulfil these terms and so the Mass was lost to us. From then on there was only one Sunday Mass in the entire canton. This Mass alternated between the two largest parishes and still does. Both are difficult for us to get to as we gave up our car long ago. Financial constraints meant that moving house was out of the question. In any case there was the garden, which was the inspiration for my three published books that were in the process of being written, but that is another story. The Parish Church across the road is now used only for the occasional weddings and funerals, more funerals than weddings I'm afraid, and in 20 years I've never heard of a baptism there. Most of the time it is kept locked and the Blessed Sacrament is not reserved there.The Parish Priest who was based in the town 2kms away eventually retired and the Presbytery was sold to a lay buyer a couple of years ago. Then, early this decade the Angelus from our parish church ceased to ring. Fortunately I recorded it one summer afternoon when the windows were all open and its sonorous tones permeated the rooms and the woodwork of the house and its beams. But once the Angelus bell was silenced, the feeling of the village being cut off from the Church was/is almost total and this for me marked the end of an era in the village.. I would say that the last Mass celebrated in the village would have been at least 12 years ago, and as for the Old Latin Mass probably nearly 40 years, not that I ever heard it here.

Our house and how the chapel came to be:
The house is just over 300 years old and a lot of work had to be done before it was habitable. It is on four levels - cellar, ground floor, first floor which houses two bedrooms, bathrooms and a large library - and above the first floor and surrounding it on two sides is an L shaped mezzanine gallery. (This mezzanine overlooks the library as you will eventually see in the photos.) There are lots of exposed beams, in fact wood predominates. When in the early 90s I first saw that mezzanine space, cleared of rubble and ancient shelving, I knew that its furthest section which had a raised dais at one end, must be a chapel. Even then when it was completely empty, there was a recusant penal-times feel about it. Behind where the altar would eventually be, there is what appears to be a cupboard door. This leads into the roof space. Ever since that day I've always mentally and semi-seriously referred to this as 'the priest hole'. And on that day these reactions came naturally to an English Catholic who knows her history and who was by then accustomed, to singing Byrd's Masses, particularly for four voices (the Agnus Dei always wrings my Catholic soul), and who knew the places, numbers and dangerous circumstances in which he had composed them. When you see the photos I think you'll understand my feelings then and now. On that day I vowed to do everything possible to make that chapel, to eventually have Holy Mass offered there and if ever possible to have the Byrd for Four sung by a small schola with no more than two voices on each line. (Pray God if that ever happens I'll still be able to manage my accustomed alto line!) The vow I made to Our Lord that day is nearly 20 years old now but I've been working towards its fulfilment since it was first made. By the time it was only two or three years old, the chapel was fit to be blessed and dedicated to the worship of God and this blessing was carried out by a priest of the Salford Diocese who was visiting us in 1994.

Until the promulgation of the 'Summorum Pontificum' I had little real hope or expectation that any of my prayers for the chapel could possibly be answered, but thanks to our beloved Pope Benedict everything became very different following his initiative. Not only that, but my other dream of opening the parish Church for Mass again and of hearing the beloved Angelus ring out once more across the fields and woods, is by no means as remote as it was two years ago.

So with this background perhaps readers will imagine the joy and the nervous excitement that almost overwhelmed me during the weekend just past.

Tomorrow, I will take you through the events of Saturday just gone.