The release of a new English translation of Georges Bernanos’ novel Diary of a Country Priest this year is an invitation for many to read, for the first time, the unabridged version of what many consider to be a masterpiece of literature and a must-read for Catholics.
The novel, which was published in Paris in 1937, follows the private reflections of a young priest assigned to a remote parish in Ambricourt, in rural northern France. As the priest struggles with his own frailties and the indifference of his parishioners, he comes to see how God has used him as an instrument to bring mercy and reconciliation to suffering souls.
The book received the Grand Prix du roman de l’Académie française and was adapted into a highly acclaimed 1951 film by Robert Bresson. Yet, until now, there hasn’t been an English-language translation that does Bernanos’ novel justice, according to the translator of the new edition published by Ignatius Press, Michael Tobin.
The original translation by Pamela Morris, published a year after the book came out, was “seriously deficient,” Tobin, a retired professor of French at the University of Saskatchewan, writes in the translator’s note in the new edition.
“Whole paragraphs, indeed, entire pages of the original are left untranslated,” he continues. The most glaring defect of the old English translation was a mistranslation of a key passage, according to Tobin.
In the original French, the novel concludes with the words of the fictional priest: “Tout est grâce” (“All is grace),” echoing the last words of St. Thérèse of Lisieux. However, for the last 90 years, readers of the only English translation in circulation, due to a mistranslation, read those words as “Grace is everywhere.”
“Morris’ translation of this vital phrase,” Tobin writes, “undermines the novel’s entire theological and spiritual foundation.”
Father Don Planty, pastor of St. Charles Catholic Church in Arlington, Virginia, just outside Washington, D.C., has read Diary of a Country Priest five times in the original French. Known for recommending the novel to friends and giving copies to seminarians, he has earned the reputation as something of an expert on the novel. He recently spoke with the Register about how the novel continues to move him.
Father Planty is quick to downplay that label, and says that his 32 years as a diocesan priest and majoring in French (along with government) at the College of William and Mary have given him a particular appreciation for Bernanos’ novel.
“I love French history and culture, and especially French Church history and culture, and I’m a parish priest. So this book really spoke to me on both accounts,” Father Planty said.
While he has only read the book in French, he told the Register that was familiar with the translation’s weaknesses and was pleased that Ignatius Press has published a new edition. Indeed, after years of recommending the book, he looks forward to discussing it with some of his fellow priests when he hosts the next meeting of their book group.
This interview with Father Planty has been edited for length.
In the beginning of Diary of a Country Priest, the priest describes his parish as “consumed by boredom.” Bernanos writes, “Boredom devours them before our very eyes, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” Does this description ring true today?
Ennui is the French word, of course. It can be translated to “boredom,” but another way to put it would be “apathy.” It’s a constant challenge for us as priests to call people on to greater involvement and engagement in the life of faith and in their parish churches. Even people who are coming to church, at times, there can seem to be a type of ennui or apathy. Trying to get them to move to the next level, to really volunteer in their parish, contribute to the life of the parish, and support their parish financially can be a challenge.
The book ends with the line “All is grace.” Perhaps the most dramatic scene took place in the encounter between the priest and the Countess, whose grief over the death of her son had separated her from her surviving daughter and possibly from God. Is this what Bernanos meant by grace?
The whole scene where he challenges the Countess — this is not something that he premeditated. It’s clearly a grace, because it’s something which is not calculated. It’s not anticipated — that extraordinary grace that he receives to really challenge her to embrace the Gospel and give up her attachment. And she does, right? It’s an extraordinary scene.
I have been inspired, at times, suddenly to challenge someone to change their life. I can think of one person in particular who was lukewarm in the faith and not living a good life, but a direct challenge to change his life served as a wake-up call, which led to reflection, discernment and conversion.
There are dramatic scenes and situations like that in the life of every parish priest. But that’s not necessarily your ordinary day-to-day, “everything is grace,” which is a simple marriage-prep appointment, or a confession, or just saying Mass.
How do you interpret the line at the conclusion of the novel, “All is grace.”
I think the last line of the novel is the key to interpreting the whole novel, right? Ideally, people would read the novel without knowing how it ends, so I don’t know if you want to offer your readers a “spoiler alert.” The last line comes directly from the life of St. Thérèse. Georges Bernanos’s bedside reading was St. Thérèse’s Last Conversations — on his bookstand at night, the last thing he read before he went to bed.
Now, many Catholics, if not most, are familiar with The Story of a Soul of St. Thérèse, which is her autobiographical manuscripts. They’re less familiar with her Last Conversations, which were written down over time by the nuns who were taking care of her in the monastery, in the last year of her life.
She says to the sisters, “Tout est grâce” (“All is grace”). So, she’s saying, it’s better to die with the sacraments, but when God comes for you, and God doesn’t allow it, it’s still okay. All is grace. In other words, her whole life was dedicated to God. She lived a sacrament; she lived a life of prayer; she offered up her suffering to the Lord. Everything was done in the context of so many graces that she received, her consecration to the Lord. It’s the same context. The priest is dying without the sacraments, and he says, “What does it matter? All is grace.”
And the context is the same: two saints, as it were, two holy people [St. Thérèse and Bernanos’ priest] that have consecrated their lives to the Lord, and they’ve suffered for it. And in the end, they’re talking about the possibility of dying without the sacraments and recognize that while that would be a great blessing, nevertheless, everything they’ve received in their lives has been a grace from God.
Why do you like giving this book to seminarians?
I think different priests have different opinions about the novel. I love the novel. I’m a firm believer that this novel accurately portrays what goes on in the heart and the life of a priest. And that’s why, oftentimes, when I meet a man who’s interested in the priesthood, or certainly a seminarian, and I ask them, “Are you familiar with this novel?” they’ll say, “No.” I say, “You know what? I’m going to buy it for you, and you read it.”
I think it really captures what goes on in the life of a priest. Now, some people find it depressing and dark. I think it’s realistic in every sense of the word. I think it portrays the challenges and difficulties that a priest has in prayer, in his apostolate, in dealing with people, and the many challenges he can face. But at the same time, all is grace. And this young priest, despite his sufferings and challenges, does extraordinary work, and is a great priest, and he’s a holy priest, and he leads his people to holiness as well as he can — and sometimes in extraordinary ways.