The School in Paris by B. G. Wilkinson

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Dec 9, 1902

The School in Paris

By B. G. Wilkinson

AFTER the blessings which attended our school at Geneva last year, we decided, if possible, to continue the same work this year; and we also hoped, if we could find a suitable place, to locate the school in France. One great difficulty presented itself against this plan. The canvassing work has never found an encouraging reception in the French nation. First, because the French people have long been educated away from reading serious literature. A love story, a romance, or a cheap class of reading will readily find a great sale, provided the price does not go much over twenty-five or fifty cents; and the cheaper, the greater the circulation. Secondly, because our reading is Protestant, and therefore it is generally rejected. During the year 1900 an effort was made to put a strong force of canvassers in the city of Paris; and no outlay of expense was withheld to get the work started in this city. But the workers all returned with the declaration that in Paris they could not even give away our papers and tracts, much less sell them; and as to our higher-priced books, they were out of the question.

It can readily be seen that this state of affairs would affect our school, for in these Catholic countries of Latin-Europe, our young people are very poor, and while attending the school, must receive help, or else they must earn their expenses by some means. Thus, at the school of Geneva, last winter some of the students earned all their expenses by canvassing. But Geneva is in Switzerland, and Switzerland is not France.

So it was with anxious thought that we started out early this fall to visit the large cities of France, with a view of finding conditions favorable for a school, and for starting our work in that country. We visited quite a number of cities, and while in some of them we found conditions more favorable in some respects than in Paris, yet we felt that the interests of the work demanded that it be started in Paris. The greatest difficulty that Paris presents to our work is what is called “la concierge.” The concierge is something absolutely unknown in America, and is not very much known in other European countries. But it is the prevailing thing at Paris.

What is the concierge? Well, when a rich proprietor builds a house in the city, the house is supposed to contain all the way from seven to five hundred apartments. Each apartment constitutes a complete home for one family, and contains a small, dark corner called a kitchen, then a dining room, a parlor, a larger or a smaller number of bedrooms, according to the size and price of the apartment, so that in each large house there will be from seven to five hundred families. Now, according to the custom, at the large entrance to the stairways and courts of this house is a small apartment, which must be passed by everybody who goes in or out of the building. In this apartment dwells the concierge. This person, whether male or female, is, so to speak, the proprietor’s watchdog. The concierge pays nothing for his apartment. He gets no salary from the proprietor, but every renter, upon entering, pays this concierge all

the way from two dollars to ten dollars; and when the New Year’s day comes, the renter must give another liberal donation to the concierge. Suppose the renter determines not to give the concierge his dues, what happens?—He loses his letters. The postman delivers no mail to individuals. All mail must pass through the hands of the concierge. If the renter’s friends come to visit him, they never reach him. The concierge tells them that he is not at home; for every stranger entering the staircases must ask permission of the concierge. The concierge can subject the renter to a miserable existence if he wishes. He can keep the stairways dirty. He can send astray the renter’s groceries, coal, and other articles delivered by merchants.

This concierge is a thorn in the flesh to our canvassers; for it is against the law for anybody to enter the house without the permission of the concierge. And to our canvassers you may be sure this permission is very rarely given.

Our school opened in Paris the twenty-seventh of October. After two or three weeks of hard tramping in the city, we found a suitable and reasonably economical apartment. Knowing that the majority of our students must come from Switzerland, and that it is a journey of fifteen hours from Switzerland to Paris, we had hardly dared to hope, in view of this large expense, for more than eight or ten students. But our school opened, with sixteen. We had over thirty applications, but owing to our limited room, we could take only seventeen students, the number which we now have. And in three of our bedrooms the students are sleeping four in a room. There is not one hired person in our school. All the work is done by the students.

Most of these students have pledged to pay all their expenses, yet they hope to earn at least a part of the same, if not all, by canvassing in the city.

Our school is to continue six months, and we count it a blessing from the Lord that we were able to find in this city a proprietor who would rent us a large apartment for six months. Such apartments are usually rented upon contract for three, six, or nine years. We have also been fortunate in having a good concierge. Instead of our students being compelled to go to the public washing houses, where the law compels family washing to be done, and where it is done by a lower class of women, our concierge has kindly given us the use of her little court. Here we do our weekly washing; and, moreover, she permits us to do it on Sunday, although she is a Catholic.

Our students have come from Italy, Switzerland, France, and one from Nebraska. They are having wonderful experiences with policemen and concierges when canvassing. The Lord has blessed us, and we look forward to his continued blessings.

B. G. WILKINSON.