Chapter II: The People (2)

Occasionally you will have to deal with a blunt and surly character. Ask such an one, in an affectionate manner, after he has expended his curses and oaths:--"Is that all that you have to urge against religion and society? It is all you know, perhaps; but I could tell you a great deal more. You have forgotten this and overlooked that," till at length he will be induced to say:--"I perceive that you are bantering me;" and he will never afterward repeat his objections or his imprecations.

But, good God! why are we so much startled and horrified when we hear such profanities? It is the very way to increase the evil. Are we ignorant of what a man is who is vicious, or ignorant, or passionate? {78} Does he always know the drift of his words? The man of the present age has a special claim to the pardon which the Saviour prayed for on the cross. Besides, the profane man is not always so far from God as is thought; such an one is not the most difficult of conversion. A very witty man, speaking of another whose restoration to religion has since gladdened the Church, remarked:--"I begin to have hope of him; for when one talks about Christianity to him he is annoyed, and blasphemes." We have the besetting foible of readily believing those who tell us that they have no faith. They must, indeed, regard us as most credulous simpletons when they see us approach them with a cart-load of argument to prove to them what they already know as well as we do, or what they would know if their poor hearts were a little less diseased.

Here, again, we see that charity must initiate and direct our efforts. As to subsequent measures, if you would win over the people, if you would acquire an irresistible influence over them, busy yourself in what concerns them, and be unremitting in your care of their poor. I will even go so far as to say, make a semblance of taking this interest in them, and you will gain a great ascendency over them, your words will have a magic effect upon them, and they will be ready to overlook every thing else in you, even the fact of your being a priest. ... This is a subject deserving the serious consideration of those who have a hearty desire to labor for the salvation of souls.

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A priest enters a workshop, say, of gunsmiths. On perceiving the cassock, those blackened figures immediately become blacker still. They purposely turn their backs, in order to give him no inducement to address them, and should he do so, the reply is generally a curt "Yes, sir," uttered in as dry and morose a tone as possible. He walks through the establishment, and meets everywhere with a similar reception. Meanwhile, one of the workmen whispers something to the foreman, which the priest fancies may be a suggestion for his immediate expulsion; but he is speedily reassured. What passed is transmitted from one group to another, and suddenly the countenances and hearts of all undergo a change. Instead of turning their backs, the workmen now move sideways, as if to invite a colloquy as the visitor moves along, and before he utters a word, they all stand ready, with cap in hand, to welcome his address. The men become at once polite, amiable, charming--Frenchmen, in fact, in the best meaning of the word. The whispered sentence was the sacramental saying of the poor:--"This priest is kind to the unfortunate; he loves the people; he is not a proud man." O wondrous power of charity! how little art thou understood? and yet thou canst thus tame even the most unruly! We hear much on all sides about the best means of enlightening and reforming the people, and of preventing them from harboring envy and hatred. What is really required to that end is, as we have been endeavoring to show, the exercise of charity.

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But, further, would you acquire an unlimited sway over the people? Would you exert a divine power over them? Become poor, and live in an humble dwelling. Herein I no longer insist on duties and obligations; I merely give the counsels of charity, and the reader may, if he pleases, skip over the next few lines. Yes, unfurnish your house for the poor; send your silver plate, if you have any, to the money changer; send your fauteuils and your couches to the fancy warehouse; give one of your mattresses to him who has none; send your clock to the pawnbroker, and let your watch go and exchange places with it occasionally. Contend for your left-off clothes and linen with your old housekeeper, who will threaten to be seriously vexed if you attempt _to rob_ her of her perquisites. Accustom yourself to privations. Have a room like that of the Cardinal Cheverus: a small table and a chair constituted the furniture, a truck bedstead covered with a light mattress formed his couch, and the most miserable room in his palace was that which he chose to occupy. [Footnote 12]

[Footnote 12: _Vie du Cardinal_, p. 316.]

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Do this, and then speak and act, and you will be listened to, believed, blessed, worshipped. Your heart will overflow with joy, so much so that you may be induced to say:--"I fear lest I am receiving my reward here, and that none awaits me in heaven."

Such voluntary poverty not only impresses the people, it exercises also a powerful influence on the highest intellects, transforming and disposing them to acknowledge the truth.

A person who had taken a prominent part in public affairs made the following remarks after an interview with an eminently pious man:--"What most impressed me was not his language, which, nevertheless, was powerful and keen; but it was his furniture, his wretched pallet, his three rush chairs and rickety table--all which formed a most appropriate frame, so to speak, to his anchorite figure. I returned home saying:--'I have seen something divine.'" These are the ways of doing good which cost little, and are within the reach of every one.

But to return. As I was remarking, the priest must be known and loved, in order that, through him, religion may be known and loved. To attain this, let him first appear to the people as _full of grace_, and afterward as _full of truth_. Let love precede truth, and then the latter will enter into the heart as into its own domain. {82} Argument must be avoided, lest we drive the man of the people to the miserable vanity of setting himself up as an enemy to Christianity. Above all, we must be on our guard against humiliating any one; for it is very easy to reduce a man to silence by a witticism, or to make him fall into inconsistency when he is not a Christian. With the reason of God it is always possible to nonplus the reasoning of men.

In a word, we should consult our hearts much, and our heads only a little. Yes, let us love the poor people, who have been so little loved during their lives. Are not the people the most notable part of our family? I mean of the priest's family; for we have no other to love. It is true that we do not find its members very amiable at first; but we soon get attached to them: we even become enthusiastic about them, and experience a sincere pleasure in associating with those dear _mauvais sujets_. Especially must we bear with the weak, with the smoking flax and the bruised reed. We must have a kindly word for all: a smile for this one, a salutation for that one, a picture for the little child of the more depraved. That child will love us; the mother will like nothing better than to do the same, and perchance the father may follow. ... In a word, we must bring into play all the assiduities and the holy wiles of charity.

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I conceive that the blessed Saviour lived and acted in this way, in the midst of that wicked nation which put him to death. He began by doing good--_coepit facere_; and then He taught--_docere_. He healed, He comforted, He pitied, He ate with sinners, He took the part of the guilty woman, He deplored the impending ruin of His country.

Seize every opportunity of mixing with the people and of showing them kindness; even those who seem the least promising. Are not all a source of good to those who love?

You are a priest, and in walking along hear some one imitating the cry of a raven. Such an occurrence is less frequent now, but it happens occasionally. You recognize a human voice, for you hear the accompanying remark:--"It will be foul weather today, and some misfortune will befall us, for the ravens are on the wing." Take no notice of the ill-nature, and do not assume a proud or disdainful demeanor. It is vulgar to do so, and by no means Christian. The first chance comer could do no more. But, with a gracious smile on your countenance, and fervent charity in your heart, and, above all, avoiding anything like irony, accost the man somewhat in this style:--"So, my friend, it seems to amuse you to cry like a raven. I am glad of it. There is so little enjoyment in the world that I am gratified to have given you a moment's pleasure. Besides, you are quite right; our dress is as black as the raven. Nevertheless, if you knew us well, you would discover that we are not as bad as our dress is black. {84} But, what are you doing here?" This will lead to conversation, explanations will follow, a good understanding and mutual esteem will be the result, and you will take leave of each other with a hearty shake of the hand. Thus, an embittered spirit may be restored to calm and to a better judgment; you will have made a friend yourself, and perhaps gained one over to God; for who can tell to what a favorable issue such simple beginnings may lead? God be praised! many souls have been reclaimed to religion and to society by similar means.

I must forewarn you, however, that success will not always attend your efforts. You will often encounter obstacles, and even opprobrium; but what then? To a Christian, that will not be the worst feature in the case. Thereby, in the first place, you will learn to be more a man; for one who has never known strife and conflict, victory and defeat, is not a man: he has not lived: he does not know himself, he does not know others; he is ignorant of the science of life. He is an imperfect man: a man who has come short of manhood: because he has never fallen back upon himself to discover the treasures which Providence has hidden there. He will never be a man to initiate, or a man of action. It is only obstacles and contests which form useful as well as great men. There is, somehow, a most unreasonable tendency in us always to be sure of success; and yet our blessed Lord expired in anguish, He. . . .

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As to jeers and sarcasms, you may fully reckon on them. Occasionally, moreover, you will be made to act the part of a dupe or ninny. So much the better; such experience will serve as a useful counterpoise to our natural arrogance. Such things are trifles compared with what our missionaries have to endure among the infidels. They brave the sword, and we are afraid of needles' points, and call our fear prudence. But why this dread of being derided? Can it be that we are ignorant of the French people? Are we not aware that they must banter or ridicule some one, even though it be a benefactor? What else can we expect? It is their nature; but they are sterling at bottom. Join, then, to all your other benevolent actions, that of allowing them occasionally to sneer at you. Should an opportunity offer, say to them, in the words of St. Chrysostom:--"I give you leave to turn me into ridicule; I will forgive all the evil which you may say of me, on the express condition that you become less wicked and less unhappy." Here, then, we have another means of touching the heart; for even revilers will find it difficult to help loving one who thus throws himself upon their mercy, and sacrifices self for their welfare.

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A priest who was in the habit of visiting prisons, acting like a clever man, generally addressed the most obstinate of the inmates, and made it a point to enter into conversation with the groups which appeared to be the most vicious and ill-disposed, knowing that if these were converted the rest would probably follow. He was specially gracious to the more impious, so much so that the remark was often made to him by one and another:--"Don't you remember that it was I who abused you the other day?" "Of course I do," he replied; "but do you imagine that I care for abuse? On the contrary, I consider myself rather lucky when I get a good round of it, and feel to like the abuser the more. Besides, I was fully convinced that you were better than your language might lead one to believe." When he retired, the observation was frequently made:--"There's a priest unlike the rest. He acts up to his religion. I don't know but that I shall confess to him;" and the veiled intent was often carried into practice. Act in this way, and you will be loved more and more; and when men have learned to love the servant on earth, they may perchance learn to love his Master who is in heaven.

This done, you will have made a good beginning, and you must persevere by presenting religion under its most attractive aspect. Generally, however, religion has been exhibited to the people in a manner which imposes too great a restraint on individual liberty.

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We should talk less about what religion forbids, and a little more of the benefits which it imparts. Don't be always saying:--"Religion forbids this, and that, and the other thing;" for you will turn the people against it, and will be charged with insisting on what is impossible. We Frenchmen are very children of Adam--and of Eve too. It is quite enough for a thing to be forbidden to induce us to do it. We have a ravenous taste for the forbidden fruit. For instance, a man curses and swears in your presence. Don't tell him that it is a sin, an abominable habit; for he will then take a malicious pleasure in repeating his profanity. Tell him rather that it is unseemly, that it is vulgar, that it shows bad taste, and he will abstain; for all, even the most depraved, wish to be thought well brought up. Let us therefore talk less of vices and more of virtues.

Let us now suppose that you are brought in contact with a crafty and narrow-minded class of persons. Disconcert all their manoeuvres by a straight forward and sincere address, and by a still more frank demeanor, always combined with discretion. Then there will be no gratification in deceiving you. Above all, never resort to underhand measures, and carefully avoid slander. The people hate them: and God and His truth have no need of a secret police.

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When you have to deal with an egotistical and slanderous set, never speak of egotism or slander; but scatter love broadcast among them, make the good chords of their hearts vibrate, filling them with the holy palpitations of charity toward their brethren. Thus slander and egotism will vanish, according to the saying of St. François de Sales:--"When there is a fire in the house, every thing is thrown out through the windows."

In large cities, where the people are quick, bustling, and petulant, your speech should be lively, frank, bold, winning, and irresistible, that it may cause their hearts to thrill with emotion, and excite their interest by occasionally drawing a smile from them. In small towns, on the contrary, be less bold and more circumspect, and let it be your first aim to acquire the confidence of the people. Study your ground well, the prevailing prejudices, and even the local routine.

Novelties often engender distrust. To gain currency for them, you must secure the affections of your charge, and soar above petty ideas and feelings. Be impassible and kind in the midst of the puerile interests which surround you. Be just, for the people love justice: they even love a severe man who is just; how much more, then, will they regard such an one if he is benevolent also? Confidence once restored, go to the main point; stir up men's consciences, appeal to the better part of human nature, and throw routine overboard. {89} Bring religion into close contact with those hearts which seem so cold, and you will witness things unknown to those who believe these people to be indifferent or hostile, simply because, as is often the case, the people in small towns are not known. They are looked at too near, they are judged by the exterior, and almost always by those characteristics wherein they clash against ourselves.

There is another reason why you should keep aloof from the narrow-mindedness above mentioned. One frequents certain excellent families of the locality who are devoutly inclined and are munificent to the Church. There is no harm in that; but it often happens that these worthy persons have rather contracted views, and are not altogether exempt from petty passions. They are fond of hearing and repeating some ill-natured gossip, or the least edifying news of the day; and as we are all apt to acquire some of the ideas of those with whom we associate, one comes at length to look at things with their eyes, and finally adopts some such style as this:--"My parish is this, my parish wishes that;" whereas, if matters were closely analyzed, it would turn out that the alleged wish of the parish is confined to a few of those aforesaid pious souls.

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The next false step is to adopt a self-conceited course of action and of religious teaching, wholly irrespective of the Catholic Church: nothing is thought of what may be done elsewhere. "Success can only be achieved in such a way," becomes the expression of this self-sufficiency; while those who fall into it grow exclusive and empirical, and forget that, thanks be to God, the ways of doing good are multifarious, and among them such as are suited to all dispositions and characters. Nay, it will be fortunate if this conceit does not assume to have done all that could be done, and to deny the possibility of others doing better or more. Happy indeed is the man who can truly bear such a testimony to himself! We war against prejudices: let us therefore beware of entertaining any ourselves, for they are not the easiest enemies to be dislodged. Yes, we sometimes circumscribe, we confine the beautiful Catholic religion within the small town where we ourselves reside; we recognize it there, and there only; it is taught as it should be only there; no good can be done except what is done there, whether that said small town be called Quimperlé or Saint-Pierre-de-Chignac.

As regards the people in rural districts, who are dull, timid, susceptible, and rather gross, you must strive to open out their souls in order that religion may penetrate them. They are not over-exacting, not having been spoilt on that score, and a very little attention satisfies them. {91} A token of good-will, a salutation, an act of politeness, a trifling gift bestowed on their children, will suffice to attract them toward religion; for, generally speaking, when it is properly presented to them, they are attached to it: they love it, they are proud of their Church and of their curé, and are ready to fight to prove that he is the most accomplished priest in the kingdom.

The peasant must never be provoked or pushed to extremes. When he resists, don't attack him in front, but turn the difficulty by laying hold of one of his weaker points, some one of the good fibres of his heart; otherwise, the more you talk and threaten the more he will consider it a duty not to listen to you. Never be at variance with any one. The priest should have no enemies, and should not be content while he has any. I do not like to hear the remark: "That man is my enemy." Christ never said so; but He did say:--"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

One of the most effectual ways of gaining over the peasant, as well as the people generally, is to show great confidence in him, and to raise him in his own eyes. Don't be chary either of encouragement or commendation when he has but partially deserved them. Suppose him to be all that you could wish; you will thereby pave the way to impart some useful truths to him. Exalt his good qualities in his own estimation. He has fallen so low that you need not be afraid of making him vain, or of raising him too high. {92} May you rather succeed in exalting him to heaven! Did not Christ come to raise the fallen? Carrying about with him, as man does, the remembrance of his noble origin, he finds it very hard to resign himself to being a nonentity on the earth. For my part, I prefer a little vanity to the mania of envy and hatred.

In this respect also, timidity has led to our passive cooperation with the malevolent. We have suffered the people to be too much depressed. We have allowed them to be practically told that they are nothing and the rich every thing; that the lot of the disinherited poor is toil, misery, and contempt; that of the rich, affluence, enjoyment, and honors. Rather raise the people by telling them, in the accents of truth, that they are great in the estimation of God and the Gospel; that they have their share of dignity and honor, and have no cause to envy others.--"My friends, the rich have their advantages and you have yours. They have their joys and so have you. Beware of envying them. A good workman! why, such an one is the spoilt child of Providence. You are mistaken in thinking that wealth alone brings happiness. The rich happy, indeed! How can any one be led into such a delusion? You know not what they have to suffer: their sufferings are fearful; and if I wished to discover the most poignant sorrows on earth, I should not knock at the hut or cottage to seek for them. {93} I should knock at the gates of those splendid mansions which adorn our squares. It is there, behind those triple curtains, that I should find them with their claws of iron embedded in broken hearts. ... My friends, with a stout heart and two strong arms you may be as deserving, as happy, as great, as noble as any one."

But this must not only be said; the people must be treated in such a manner that they may understand it. We must respect them much, in order that they may learn to respect themselves; showing them always due deference: as, indeed, we should show all men. In a word, we should practise, in our dealings with the people, all the decorum and refined politeness of the drawing-room; with greater sincerity, to boot.

For, indeed, they have more need of such treatment than others. As manifested toward them it would be novel and efficacious; elsewhere it is generally vain and barren. This kind of politeness charms and raises them out of that moral degradation, the remembrance of which besets and weighs them down. So treated they will cease to hate, to envy, or chafe; and will learn to love, to be resigned, to have better aspirations: and, withal, they will bless you.

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The best way to direct, to benefit, and to reclaim the people to religion, is to develop the good sentiments which lie dormant in the recesses of hearts; the foremost of which is charity, or the spirit of self-sacrifice.

France is the home of charity: it exists among the high, the low, and the middle classes. The people are naturally sympathizing. As already remarked, it is a pleasure to see their readiness to oblige. The rich class are charitable; but are they more so than the popular classes? I will not judge; I prefer saying to all: "Well done; onward!"

If you wish to inspire a man of the people with good-feeling, calm, and a love of the truth, prevail on him to perform a charitable act. Get him to comfort or to relieve some one, even though you undertake to compensate him for so doing.

When you meet with a hasty or passionate man, do not adopt the ill-timed and absurd method of arguing with him. Is he capable of understanding you? He is drunk with rage, and such intoxication is more terrible and brutifying than that with wine. In attempting to argue with him, you are like the woman who sermonizes her husband on his return home with his reason drowned in liquor.

Rather take the man, and induce him to undertake an act of charity. Talk to him about humanity, get him to help a fellow-creature, and after that you will hardly recognize him as the same individual. That act of generosity will transform him; will raise him in his own eyes, will give him holy joys, will draw him toward God, will reconcile him to himself and to humanity. God be praised for having brought down charity to our earth! It blesses him who receives, and him who bestows it.

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The people are specially capable of appreciating disinterestedness, the spirit of self-devotion. It is their element, and constitutes the largest share of their happiness.

But latterly they have been treated harshly and cruelly. Wants, aspirations, and desires have been fostered in them which can never be gratified, and their life has been poisoned thereby.

Much has been said about ameliorating their condition. So far well; but that amelioration has been made to consist, in a great measure, of material enjoyments, of more to eat and drink: in fact, of feasting. In former times they lived on rye bread and were not unhappy. Now they have wheaten bread, and meat with it, and even coffee; yet they complain and are not content. A want should not be created among the people, unless there is a certainty of its being amply and always provided for.

The people, however, are not always won over through their appetites; they prefer being led by the nobler instincts of the human heart. They like what is grand, what is costly, and what is obtained by great sacrifices. They have not, in any degree, the _bourgeois_ tastes, the _bourgeois_ petty calculations, the _bourgeois_ love of little comforts. {96} They are much more disinterested than is thought. We must not attempt to gain them over by their material interests solely: that would be to ruin them and ourselves also; but, allowing them a due share of such inducements, we should rely mainly on their generosity and devotedness; for the people really admire great actions, great achievements, and the great characters who bear sway over the destinies of mankind. They entertain a species of worship for them; they refuse them no sacrifice. They attach themselves to their good or evil fortune, and with them they are always popular, always abiding.

The wars of the Revolution and of the Empire have weighed heavily upon France, have levied the tax of blood on many families; nevertheless, the name of the Emperor is still surrounded with a magic halo. Moreover, in the east of France, the marches and counter-marches of armies, with two successive invasions, have devastated the country, overburdened the peasantry with imposts, and altogether ruined many of them. For all that, enter any cottage there, and you will find the picture of Napoleon by the side of the image of the Virgin. Even on the field of battle, amid showers of shot and shell which decimated their ranks, the brave children of the people exclaimed in death: "Vive l'Empereur!" Such are the French people at heart: if there is a tendency in them to seek their own interests, there is a tendency in them, equally strong, toward devotion and self-sacrifice.

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If, then, you would give them a right guidance, speak to them of other than petty ideas and material enjoyments: the more so, because, if you attempt to win them over by such low motives, they will become insatiable; their appetites will get the mastery over them and plunge them into every kind of excess. Material enjoyments, indeed! It may be questioned whether France, with all its fertility, and all the resources of its advanced civilization, would suffice, in that case, to furnish their first repast.

In order to elevate, to control, and to satisfy this great colossus, the people, you must be provided with something more than human, something mysterious, surpassing human views and human reason; otherwise, you will continue powerless, and will never bring about any moral improvement in the world.

What has become of our great men, who trusted in man, who appealed to reason only, however exalted that reason may have been? Where is now their ascendency? Where the devotion which they have kindled? Where are the masses who have clung to their good or evil fortune? They fall, and their fall is regarded with indifference. {98} Even in prosperity, do they secure attachment? Do they acquire a permanent sway over the hearts of men? Not in the least; respect, and esteem, and even fidelity are meted out to them according to their characters, or according to the benefits which they are judged to have conferred on us. "That man is worth so much: he possesses so much learning, so much talent, and may be so far profitable to me. He only deserves so much consideration; I owe him nothing more." That is his account fully made up. A halo of superhuman radiance should surround him who would govern the masses--something divine, infinite, presaging immortality, heaven, hell, eternity ... otherwise, you will continue to have a degraded, besotted, or savage people, a people who, in the country, are sunk in materialism, encroach on their neighbor's field, or become the prey of usurers; who, when their asses are diseased, will call in a veterinary surgeon, but will let their wives suffer rather than pay a doctor to attend them; who will weep over the break-down of one of their horses, but find no tears for the death of an aged parent;--a people who, in towns, find all their pleasures and happiness in rioting and debauchery; who are never well; who accuse others of their sufferings; and who, after squandering their own substance, appeal to others, with hate on their lips and a sword in their hands, saying: "Now we will share with you."

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The best means of reclaiming them to religion is, first, to get possession of their ideas, their instincts, and their good feelings. We must enter in at their door, and make them go out by ours. Bind, rivet religious thought to their thought--to those sentiments which cause their hearts to vibrate most, and then elevate their souls; wean them from the prepossessions of earth, from indifference and evil passions, and impart to them the joys of religion and charity.

Take advantage of any occurrence, of any great event, of a fire, a calamity, an illness. ... A fire reduces a poor family to ruin, Appeal for aid, placing yourself at the head of the movement, and the result will surprise you. A laborer falls sick, and his fields remain untilled. Call his fellow-laborers together, and they will be glad, they will forget their own interest, to come to the assistance of their suffering comrade. The people of France are not known; the spirit of self-sacrifice and generosity which is in them is not known. It may require some great occasion to develop it. Well, it is for you to bring it about.

For instance, you wish to restore a church or to build a new one, and require a considerable sum of money for the purpose. So much the better; out of that requirement, you may draw treasures of charity and religion.

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Enter the pulpit and state your object; be like a father in the midst of his family. Set the whole case before them, your fears, your hopes, your need, and then add:--"We rely upon you. You will aid me, will you not? for I shall take the lead, and this will be our church."

You will then witness how the old French and Christian enthusiasm may be rekindled in the hearts of the people, insomuch that you will be tempted to ask:--"Are we really in the nineteenth century? Are we not still in the middle ages?" All will cooperate: the poor man will offer his two arms, work men will give their day's labor, the agriculturists, if there be any, will supply carts; this one will give money, another wood, a third stone; here windows, and there ornaments will be presented. Who knows but that some, who have never been accustomed to work, will offer to aid in the building? The little _bourgeois Voltairien_, who has been known to speak evil of God and of His curé, even he may wish to have a hand in the erection of the church; so that all will thereby be brought nearer to God, nearer to the truth, and nearer salvation.

Similar things have occurred in every part of France; though few have any conception of the existence of such a spirit among the people. We have even heard venerable pastors exclaim on witnessing it:--"I have held this parish for twenty-five years without knowing of it. I could not have believed that my parishioners had so much good in them."

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Haymon, abbé of Saint-Pierre-sur-Dives, [Footnote 13] tells us that in the middle ages, kings and mighty men of the time, renowned and wealthy, nobles of both sexes, stooped so low as to lay hold of the ropes attached to the carts laden with provisions and materials for building churches, and drag them to the house of God. And what appeared most astonishing was, that, although owing to its size and heavy burden, the cart was sometimes drawn by upward of a thousand persons, so profound was the silence maintained that nobody's voice was heard above a whisper, and the eye alone could recognize particular individuals in that vast multitude.

[Footnote 13: _Manuel de Charité_, p. 244.]

Similar spectacles may be witnessed again. Scenes akin to them occur frequently in the least religious parts of the country, and under the most adverse circumstances. One such took place during the present year at the prison of St. Pélagie.

Two years ago, a new parish was formed in one of the most miserable quarters of Paris, where the people were almost pagans. An appeal was made to their charity, and five hundred francs, in _sous_, were collected after the sermon. Moreover, the poor brought gifts of bread, and wished to help in the erection of the church. {102} Two poor women brought the fire-wood which had been given to them by the _Bureau de Bienfaisance_. Many brought their rings and wedding presents. Working men clubbed together to ornament the church; and, what is better still, now that it is built, they go there to pray. O people whom Christ loved, how little are ye known! how little beloved! Ye would be saved. ...

To sum up: in order to benefit the people, they must be cared for; they must be loved, must be made to love all that is good and great, and then you may lead them where you will. Charity is popular in France. Above all, succor the unfortunate; do so bountifully, and you will gain an ascendency which nothing will be able to wrest from you. You may then defy the criticisms of wits, of the press, and of hate, and retain possession of the most glorious sovereignty in the world--that over the hearts of men.

We must insist, therefore, on the necessity of giving the people a right direction; not the dry and cold direction of a metaphysical argument, or of a sword's point, but a benevolent, sympathetic, devoted impulse. ... We have not busied ourselves as we ought about the people, about their moral amelioration. We have abandoned them to the intriguing and ambitious, and then we complain of and reproach them. Have they not as much reason to murmur against and to upbraid us? The people are what they are made. {103} They are like those unclaimed lands which belong to the first occupant: they are good or bad according as they are well or badly managed; and, looking at the manner in which the people have progressed for the last ten or twelve years, it would hardly seem that they have been under the direction of honest men. What have we done? What masters have we given them? To what school have we sent them? To the school of the tavern, the liquor-vaults, and debauchery. And who have been the masters of this great French people? Men over head and ears in debt, bankrupt tradesmen, briefless barristers, peddling tipstaffs--such have been their educators; and yet forsooth, we have the face to complain that they have been badly brought up! What ought to surprise those who know the temptations and allurements to which they have been exposed, and the kind of literature which has been put into their hands--no less than eight millions of mischievous books every year by colportage alone--is, not that the people are so bad as they are, but that they are no worse. Their nature must be good at bottom, and Christianity must still survive in their hearts, to have withstood as they have done. I deplore the good which is ours no longer; but I bless Providence for that which still subsists.

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We have, in truth, played into the hands of designing and malevolent; for when we have seen them set on the people, overwhelming them under a crushing load of errors, prejudices, and antipathies, instead of taking part in the contest, we have too often stood aloof, and contented ourselves with the vain deprecation, uttered perhaps with a smile of disdain:--"They are being taught what is unreasonable and will not bear examination!" Very true; but do the people examine? When a bad press has been active, lavish, and amusing withal--when it has followed them into their workshops, their cottages, in fact, everywhere--how did we act? Why, we gave them some wearisome treatises which were either puerile or crammed full of metaphysics. Good heavens! when shall we be brought to understand that the people do not reflect, that they look, listen, and then go forward? They need some one to guide them, and if honest men do not undertake the mission, they will find others who will. ...

To aid us in affording that guidance, we should invoke the cooperation of the higher classes, inducing them to exert themselves for the moral amelioration of the people. Here, again, we have another rich mine to be worked which has been greatly neglected, but whereby all may be benefited. The people must be morally reformed by the rich, and the rich by the people.

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Alas! we often have to deplore the little effect which our words produce on the higher classes. But why should you expect them to understand us? They have no longer the Christian sense; they do not wish to endure, their aim is to enjoy themselves. They are devoured by sensualism and hardened by egotism. To remedy this, begin by dipping their souls in the waters of charity; teach them the way of self-sacrifice and devotion; enlist them in efforts for the moral benefit of the people, their children, and the poor, and then you will be listened to.

This kind of charity is readily understood in France. All of us have some sort of pretension of wishing to do something for the moral welfare of the people, even though we may not be strictly consistent in our own morality. But the French mind is so logical that it cannot play such a part for any length of time without being bettered thereby, were it only for shame's sake or out of self-respect. Something within will say:--"Before attempting to reform others, I shall do well to reform myself." Then charity will attract heavenly blessings, and the heart will open itself to the inspirations of the Gospel.

If, therefore, you wish to convert or reform a man, set him to reform one somewhat worse than himself. You will succeed much more readily in that way than by argument.

Take the case of a young man whose virtue is more than wavering, and the flights of whose imagination cause you anxiety. Set him at work to reform others, or to make the effort on some notorious offender. {106} He will do his part wonderfully well; his own virtue will be strengthened and confirmed thereby, and you will have given beneficent scope to an exuberant vivacity which the youth himself did not know how to utilize.

It is related that a president of the Society of Saint Vincent de Paul had reason to fear that some of its members failed to discharge their Paschal obligations. There were, at the same time, several poor families to be converted, and he committed the task to the suspected defaulters. The result was that they were the first to partake of the Holy Communion. The thing was simple enough: before leading others to the confessional, it was necessary that they themselves should show them the way.

Every effort made by the higher classes to benefit those below them, revives and sustains in the former the spirit of compassion, of benevolence, and of self-sacrifice--the best sentiments of the human heart. It imparts life to them; for to live is to feel, is to love, is to be loved, and to cause love in others. To have sympathy with and fellow-feeling for the poor--that is to live; but to be wholly absorbed in business matters, in advancing one's own fortune, or in concocting intrigues--that is not to live; rather it is to become brutish and to go to ruin. Nothing is more immoral and contrary to nature than to be always taken up with self. {107} Moreover, the course which we are recommending tends to draw the different classes closer together, to teach them to know and esteem each other, and to assuage mutual jealousies and antipathies. The people are fond of being thought of, of having interest manifested toward them. Under such treatment they readily yield, and are glad to be reconciled. They become even proud of the tokens of benevolence bestowed on them by some wealthy individual; it is a kind of safeguard to them against evil passions. They say to themselves:-"We are loved and esteemed: let us by honest and Christian conduct continue to deserve such consideration."

Further, it cannot be denied that there is a tendency in the spirit of the people to fancy themselves despised by the rich. Even suspicion on that point must be rendered impossible, for it may lead to serious evils. The people are implacable on the subject of contempt: they are even cruel, and they cannot pardon it, whatever else they may be ready to overlook. They forgive those who deceive and those who rob and over-work them; but they do not forgive those who despise them. To be despised is to them the last indignity: and perhaps there is some reason in that popular instinct. It is surprising that our blessed Lord complained but once during His passion. ... He suffered, He died, without a murmur; but when the affront of contempt was inflicted on Him, He complained, and uttered that speech which revealed a heart profoundly bruised:--"If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil; but if well, why smitest thou me?"

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But when the people meet with benevolence and cordiality among the rich, jealousy and hate give way, and they may be heard to say:--"If all the rich were of that sort, they would be adored; we should be ready to die for them." Moreover, they are led thereby to have more faith in God and in the reality of a Providence.

Some few years ago there lived an artisan's wife who was notorious for her hatred toward society, toward the rich, and even toward God. She hated them with an implacable, a woman's hate. Her malignity was specially directed against the _rolls of silk_ and _bundles of stuff_--so she designated the females of the upper classes--and she was known to be in the habit of saying to her children:--"I have brought you up for the democracy ... to humble the rich and to reestablish equality; and if you do not become democrats, I will disown you."

A priest commissioned a young marchioness, as virtuous as she was accomplished, to attend to this poor creature. She began by listening with kindness to all her grievances and insults, and even allowed herself to be called a _coquine_. Nevertheless, by dint of patience, she soon succeeded in calming her embittered soul.

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One day, the marchioness, who was about to absent herself for several weeks, went to bid farewell to her _protégée_. She took her affectionately by the hand, and then, moved thereto spontaneously by her kind heart, and doubtless by the grace of God also, cordially kissed her, saying, as she left:--"I shall soon see you again."

The poor woman was stunned with amazement, and moved even to tears, and forthwith went to the priest; but instead of first saluting him, she began by exclaiming:--"Is it possible? You will not believe me; nevertheless it is true. She kissed me! .... Yes, the lady marchioness kissed a miserable creature like me. ... Ah! I have frequently declared that there was no good God; now I say there is, because that lady is one of His angels. I have said, too, that I would never confess; now you may confess me as often as you please." Since that time she has been an exemplary Christian.

The day after, the priest wrote as follows to the excellent lady whom God had made the instrument of this good work:--"You may, indeed, consider yourself happy. ... We priests are at great pains to preach, and do not always succeed in converting our hearers; but you succeed with an embrace!"

Oh, if women only knew! Oh, if they would, what good they might do, what evil they might prevent! ....

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Moreover, the existence of real virtue in a woman of the world depends upon her coming out of self, and devoting herself assiduously to works of charity. ... For, you may rest assured of this, that without self-denial on her part you will never be able to keep her in the right way. ... Take the case of a light, worldly, and gay woman--and there are many such; you will never acquire any influence over her except through the medium of charity. She will make promises, but she will take care not to keep them: you can never rely on her being faithful to them. It will be vain for you to address her in the most conclusive speeches, to ply her with refined and smart essays on good breeding--in vain that you assail her foibles and waywardness with irony and sarcasm--in vain that you hold up before her the terrors of death, hell, and eternity. She will find loopholes by which to elude all that, and to deceive herself. It will not prevent her in the least from being vain and excessively addicted to pleasure, from baring her shoulders immoderately, and from going a-begging for idolatrous incense in fashionable circles. Before all, she must be made to feel, to love, to be loved, to devote herself. Charity filling her soul will set fire to the house, and then every thing else will be thrown out of the window.

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Strive, therefore, to enlist all--women, men, and even children--in searching out the distressed, and in the moral improvement of the people. Make charity honorable; let there be benevolent enterprises in your locality in which all can take part, so that there may not be a man or woman who has not his or her poor, or who is not engaged somehow in works of charity.

This is the case already in several towns in France, where a person can scarcely decline being a member of some benevolent association without suffering a loss of respect. You must overcome all repugnances on this subject, more especially that of _amour propre_. There are those who will raise the following objection, which is by no means rare:--"How can I, a man in my position, a woman of my standing, busy myself about a set of beggarly people like these?" To such reply:--"And why not? In the great cities, men the most eminent by fortune, talent, and reputation, do it. ... Even ladies who are fêted and sought after in the world--the young and beautiful, countesses, marchionesses, and princesses--even such do not disdain the task. There are women in Paris, possessing every thing that heart can desire, with a rental of from two hundred thousand to three hundred thousand francs, who deprive themselves of legitimate pleasures to occupy themselves in making clothes for the poor, visiting the most wretched hovels, and nursing the indigent sick." {112} Tell them all this with gentleness and kindness; make the grand ladies of certain small towns--such as the wives of lawyers, judges, advocates, merchants, commission agents, and viscounts--ashamed of themselves. It will tend to wean them from that spirit of contempt and sensualism, and that pride of shabby finery, which consists in thinking one's self superior to a rival because she has had the signal honor of finding a better dressmaker. Tell them that, if they affect the fashions and usages of Paris, they would do well to imitate the charity, zeal, and devotion which are exercised there.

To cite but one instance, that of Donoso Cortès, whom we may now praise, for God has just called him to Himself. He disappeared every day from home at certain hours. No one knew where he went; but it was afterward discovered that it was the time of his visits to the poor. M. de Montalembert, who knew him well, tells us that he loved the poor passionately, but, withal, discreetly. In fact, in order to benefit the people, that is how they must be loved. Thereby alone can you hope to succeed in restoring them to the path of Gospel self-denial and self-sacrifice.

Be on your guard, moreover, against another excuse often urged by certain of the wealthier classes. They say:--"But the people distrust us; it is quite enough for us to attempt to lead them in one way to make them determined to follow another."

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The people distrust the wealthy classes! If it be so, whose fault is it? Is it all theirs? They do not know those classes; they seldom see them except at a distance, and from a lower standing. Their estimate of them is founded on slander; how, then, can they have confidence in them? ... Their confidence must be won, it must be raised by dint of benevolence, charity, and self-devotion, and the task is by no means impracticable. What! the possessors of fortune, and talent, and a name, and yet unable to gain that confidence on the part of the people which a schoolmaster, a village lawyer, a tipstaff, a man without any intellectual or moral worth, is able to secure! Of what avail, then, is it to spend so many long years in study? What does a good education mean, and of what use is it? Surely a very false idea has been formed of education. It will soon be made to consist in knowing how to train a horse, or to turn a compliment, or in instilling vanity into brains which need no addition of that quality. Knowledge, talent, position, and birth are not bestowed on us for the benefit of self, but for the welfare of all; and it therefore behoves those who are endowed with a greater capacity--who possess more knowledge, more time, more influence, and more heart than others--to share their advantages with those who have less, or who have not the leisure to acquire them.

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