{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_54246/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_54246","id":"gutenberg_54246","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54246","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Religion/Spirituality","Preaching"],"text":"[Transcriber's note: I dedicate this transcription to the Very\n  Reverend Richard Trout of Corpus Christi Parish, Celebration,\n  Florida. His gentle and moving homilies are perfect examples of\n  the style and content recommended by this author. As the\n  preface observes, the many references to nineteenth century\n  France may not all apply to our times, but people and cultures\n  are remarkably similar over time and distance.]\n\n\n\n{3}\n\n    The Clergy And The Pulpit\n    In Their Relations To The People.\n\n\n\n    By M. L'Abb\u00e9 Isidore Mullois,\n\n      Chaplain To The Emperor Napoleon III.,\n      And Missionary Apostolic.\n\n\n    Translated By\n\n    George Percy Badger,\n\n    Late Chaplain In The Diocese Of Bombay,\n    Author Of \"The Nestorians and Their Rituals,\" Etc.\n\n\n    First American Edition.\n\n\n    New-York:\n\n    The Catholic Publication Society,\n    Lawrence Kehoe, General Agent,\n    126 Nassau Street.\n    1867.\n\n{4}\n\n    John A. Gray & Green, Printers,\n    16 and 18 Jacob Street, New-York.\n\n{5}\n\n  Preface To The American Edition.\n\n\nThis excellent translation of the now celebrated work of the Abb\u00e9\nMullois is presented to the American public with every assurance\nthat it will meet with a most cordial welcome.\n\nIt is a live book; full of earnest words, fresh from the heart no\nless than from the head of the devout and zealous author. It has\ngained an unwonted popularity in France, where it has already\npassed through many editions. No less than twenty thousand copies\nare said to be in the hands of as many ecclesiastics.\n\nWe judge it to be one of the most timely books that could be\noffered to our own clergy, who will find much in these pages to\nencourage and stimulate them in their arduous pastoral duties.\n{6}\nThe sceptical spirit which pervades a large mass of the French\npeople, hardly yet recovered from the fearful shock which their\nfaith received in the Revolution, is one which, happily, we in\nAmerica have not to contend with; and the suggestions of the\nauthor in reference to this are, of course, of no practical\nmoment to us: but the principle that underlies every subject of\nwhich the author treats is a universal one, applicable at all\ntimes and to every nation: \"To address men well, they must be\nloved much.\" This is the title of the first chapter, and the key\nto the whole work.\n\nIt is written in a pleasing, familiar style, with an unction that\nendues every sentence with an irresistible power of conviction\nand persuasion. Its perusal cannot fail of exerting a most\nhealthful influence upon the character and tone of the discourses\nwhich the reader may be called upon by virtue of his office to\ndeliver for the instruction and edification of the people\ncommitted to his spiritual care.\n\n------\n\n{7}\n\n    Author's Preface.\n\n\nIt is surprising that whereas, during the last three centuries,\nmany books have been published on the mode of preaching to the\nhigher classes, scarcely any thing has been written on the same\nsubject with reference to the people, or lower orders. It seems\nto have been thought that the latter ought to be satisfied with\nthe crumbs which might fall from the table provided for the\neducated portion of society.\n\nNevertheless, nothing could be more opposed to the spirit of the\nGospel; which is specially addressed to the poor and humble--\"He\nhath anointed Me to preach to the poor.\" The Fathers of the early\nChurch did not consider it beneath their genius to write\ntreatises on the manner of communicating religious instruction to\nthe people. The people form nearly the whole of the population.\n{8}\nIn France, they number twenty-three out of a total of twenty-five\nmillions; yet, strange to say, they are quite overlooked. The\neducated two millions appear to have assumed that they constitute\nFrance, and that France has so willed it. But if a few men were\nto arise capable of laying hold of the instincts of the\nmultitude, were it only of one of the emotions which stir them,\nthey would soon undeceive those who fancy that the people are\nunder their guidance. We know something by experience on that\nscore.\n\nThere is a prevailing conviction among the well-disposed that\nnothing but religion can save us; that France must either once\nmore become Christian or perish. But in order that religion may\nexercise a beneficial influence over the masses, it must be\nbrought into contact with them; and that can only be done by the\npreaching of the Word, agreeably with the inspired\ndeclaration:--\"Faith cometh by hearing.\"\n\n{9}\n\nIt is much more difficult than is imagined to preach to the\ncommon people, because they are so little conversant with\nspiritual things, and so much absorbed in what is material. It is\nmore difficult to address them than the wealthier classes; for,\nin addressing the latter, one has only to fall in with the\ncurrent of their ideas; whereas in preaching to the former, we\nhave to bring high and sublime thoughts within the grasp of\nfeeble intelligences. Besides, there exists among the masses a\ncertain amount of knowledge more or less superficial, and none is\nmore difficult to direct than a half-taught man.\n\nThe foregoing considerations have led us to indite this little\ntreatise; wherein our object has been not to lay down any\nspecific rules, but simply to set forth the teachings of\nexperience. What we most need nowadays is a popular religious\nliterature to meet the temper and wants of the people. Such a\nliterature does not exist. It should be based entirely on the\nnational character and on the precepts of the Gospel. Invested\nwith those two qualities, it would become an irresistible agency\nfor good, and would act as powerfully on the educated few as on\nthe unlettered many.\n{10}\nIt might inaugurate the regeneration of our literature by\nrestoring to it vitality, naturalness, and dignity. The time has\ncome for taking up the cause of the people in earnest. The\ncommunity generally is impressed with that conviction, and\nmanifests a praiseworthy desire to encourage every effort for\nameliorating their moral condition. Upward of one hundred\nthousand volumes specially designed for them are sold every year.\nWorldly-minded men, too, are anxious to foster the movement;\nfinding that those who show a disposition to benefit the masses\nare sure to meet with countenance, sympathy, and even veneration.\nMoreover, we are at present in the enjoyment of profound calm.\nHeretofore, the apology for delay was:--\"Let us wait to see the\nupshot of passing events; for who knows what may become of us;\nwho knows but that we may be driven from our own homes?\" The\nevil-disposed have had their day; let us see what honest folk may\nand can do.\n\nLet us mutually co-operate, piously and charitably, to become\nonce more a united people and country--a France with one heart\nand one soul. 'Twill be the beginning of blessedness.\n\n{11}\n\n      Contents.\n\n\n\n                                                        Page\nPreface To The American Edition,                           5\n\nPreface By The Author,                                     7\n\n  Chapter I.                                              15\n\n  To Address Men Well, They Must Be Loved Much.\n\n  The Gospel enjoins universal Benevolence.\n  The Men of the present Age have a special Claim to our Love.\n  The success of Preaching depends upon our loving them.\n  Wherein true Apostolical Eloquence consists.\n\n\n  Chapter II.                                             40\n\n  The People.\n\n  The actual State of the People.\n  Their good and bad Qualities.\n  The People in large Cities.\n  The People in small Towns.\n  The People in rural Districts.\n  How to benefit these Three Classes of the People.\n  One powerful Means is to act upon the People through the upper\n    Classes, and upon the latter through the former.\n\n\n  Chapter III.                                           118\n\n  The Order Of A Sermon.\n\n  The Exordium.\n  Divisions.\n  Proofs.\n  Are there many Unbelievers in France?\n  Manner of refuting Objections.\n\n{12}\n\n  Chapter IV.                                            136\n\n  The Sermon Should Be Popular.\n\n  What constitutes true Popularity?\n  Popularity in Words, in Thought, in Sentiment.\n  One of the most popular Sentiments in France is Patriotism.\n  Means to utilize that Sentiment.\n  The Relationship between Popularity and Genius.\n  Demosthenes.\n  Saint John Chrysostom.\n  Daniel O'Connell.\n\n\n  Chapter V.                                             160\n\n  The Sermon Should Be Plain.\n\n  An obscure Sermon is neither Christian nor French.\n  Abuse of philosophical Terms.\n  Philosophical Speculations not popular amongst us.\n  The French mind is clear and logical.\n  Plainness of Speech.\n  Plainness of Thought.\n  Starting from the Known to the Unknown.\n  Metaphors.\n  Similes.\n  Parables.\n  Facts.\n  P\u00e8re Lejeune.\n  M. l'Abb\u00e9 Ledreuil.\n\n\n  Chapter VI.                                            183\n\n  The Sermon Should Be Short.\n\n  The Discourses of the Fathers were short.\n  The French Mind is quick to apprehend.\n  Sermons are generally too long.\n  Sermons of Ten, Seven, and of Five Minutes.\n\n\n  Chapter VII.                                           197\n\n  Tact And Kindliness.\n\n  We should assume that our Hearers are what we wish them to be.\n  Reproaches to be avoided.\n  How to address Unbelievers.\n  Special Precautions to be taken in small Towns and Rural Districts.\n  How to treat Men during times of public Commotion.\n  Forbearance due to the Church for being obliged.\n    to receive Money from the Faithful.\n\n{13}\n\n  Chapter VIII.                                          222\n\n  Interest. Emotion, and Animation.\n\n  We should endeavor to excite Interest by Thoughts, by Sallies or\n    Epigrams, by Studies of Men and Manners.\n  The Truth should be animated.\n  The P\u00e8re Ravignan.\n  The P\u00e8re Lacordaire.\n  The Heart is too often absent.\n\n\n  Chapter IX.                                            243\n\n  The Power And Accent Of Conviction.\n\n  The Divine Word has always been the first Power in the World.\n  The Gospel still the first of Books.\n  There can be no Christian Eloquence\n    without the Accent of personal Conviction.\n\n\n  Chapter X.                                             254\n\n  Action.\n\n  Action should be:\n    first, true and natural;\n    secondly, concentrated;\n    thirdly, edifying.\n  It should be cultivated.\n  How cultivated by the Society of Jesus Suggestions.\n\n\n  Chapter XI.                                            275\n\n  Study.\n\n  Study a Duty.\n  The State of the World calls for\n    Knowledge on the part of the Clergy.\n  Knowledge has always been one of the Glories of Religion.\n  All the eminent Men in the Church were Men of Study.\n  Reasons adduced for not studying, answered:\n    Want of Leisure,\n    Natural Aptitude,\n    The Plea of having already studied sufficiently;\n    That one is fully equal to the Requirements\n      of the People committed to his Charge.\n\n{14}\n\n  Chapter XII.                                           287\n\n  Zeal.\n\n  The Excellency of Zeal.\n  Love for the Body should be coupled with Love for the Soul.\n  The Zeal of the Wicked.\n  How Zeal should be exercised.\n  Associations:\n    of Apprentices,\n    of Operatives,\n    Conferences of Saint Vincent de Paul,\n    of Domestics,\n    of Clerks,\n    of the Young.\n  Circulation of good Books.\n  Happy Results of the same.\n  The Advantages and Difficulties of Opposition.\n  Great Occasions.\n\n------\n\n{15}\n\n    The Clergy And The Pulpit\n    In Their Relations To The People.\n\n----\n\n  Chapter I.\n\n  To Address Men Well, They Must Be Loved Much.\n\n\n  The Gospel enjoins universal Benevolence.\n  The Men of the present Age have a special Claim to our Love.\n  The Success of Preaching depends upon our loving them.\n  Wherein true Apostolical Eloquence consists.\n\n\nMany rules of eloquence have been set forth, but, strange to say,\nthe first and most essential of all has been overlooked, namely,\nCharity. ... To address men well, they must be loved much.\nWhatever they may be, be they ever so guilty, or indifferent, or\nungrateful, or however deeply sunk in crime, before all and above\nall, they must be loved. Love is the sap of the Gospel, the\nsecret of lively and effectual preaching, the magic power of\neloquence. ... The end of preaching is to reclaim the hearts of\nmen to God, and nothing but love can find out the mysterious\navenues which lead to the heart.\n{16}\nWe are always eloquent when we wish to save one whom we love; we\nare always listened to when we are loved. But when a hearer is\nnot moved by love, instead of listening to the truth, he ransacks\nhis mind for some thing wherewith to repel it: and in so doing\nhuman depravity is seldom at fault.\n\nIf, then, you do not feel a fervent love and profound pity for\nhumanity--if in beholding its miseries and errors you do not\nexperience the throbbings, the holy thrillings of Charity--be\nassured that the gift of Christian eloquence has been denied you.\nYou will not win souls, neither will you ever gain influence over\nthem, and you will never acquire that most excellent of earthly\nsovereignties--sovereignty over the hearts of men.\n\nI may be mistaken, but it seems to me that the tradition of this\ngreat evangelical charity has declined among us. I hasten to add,\nhowever, that this is the fault of the age, of its injustices and\nsarcasms. It has dealt so hardly with Christianity, and has been\nso ungrateful toward it, that our souls have become embittered,\nand our words have been sometimes cold and dry: like the mere\nwords of a man and nothing more. But that bitterness is passing\naway.\n\n{17}\n\nReligion in France, at the present day, is in the condition of a\nmother who meets with indifference and abuse from her son. The\nfirst outburst of her heart is one of pain and repugnance; but\nsoon the better part of her nature gains the ascendency, and she\nsays within herself: \"After all, it is true that he is wicked; it\nis also true that he fills me with grief, and is killing me with\nanguish; nevertheless, he is still my child, and I am still his\nmother. ... I cannot help loving him, so great is his power over\nme. Let them say what they will, I still love him. ... Would to\nGod that he had a desire to return! Would that he might change!\nHow readily would I pardon every thing and forget all! ... How,\nthen, can I enjoy a moment's happiness whilst knowing that he is\nwicked or wretched?\" ... This is what Religion and those who\nrepresent it have felt. We have been wounded; we have been made\nto suffer cruelly. Yes, men have been unjust and ungrateful: but\nthese same are our brethren still, still our children. And can we\nbe happy while we see them wicked and miserable? Have they not\nalready suffered enough? .... The question is not to ascertain\nwhat they are worth, but to save them such as they are. Our age\nis a great prodigal son; let us help it to return to the paternal\nhome. Now is the time to recall the admirable words of\nFenelon:--\"O ye pastors, put away from you all narrowness of\nheart. Enlarge, enlarge your compassion. You know nothing if you\nknow merely how to command, to reprove, to correct, to expound\nthe letter of the law. Be fathers, ... yet that is not enough; be\nas mothers.\"\n\n{18}\n\nThis large love for men, alike for the good and the evil, is the\npervading spirit of the Gospel. It is the true spirit of\nChristianity. Its power was felt by our fathers in the sacred\nministry, and it governed their lives.\n\nLook at Saint Paul, that great missionary of the Catholic Church.\nA stream of love flows from his apostolic soul. He did not suffer\nhimself to be disconcerted by the failings, the vices, or the\ncrimes of men. His heart uplifts him above such considerations,\nand he overcomes human prejudices and errors by the power of his\ncharity. Let us hear him:--\"O ye Corinthians, our mouth is open\nunto you, our heart is enlarged. Ye are not straitened in us, but\nye are straitened in your own bowels. ... Be ye also enlarged.\nFor though ye have ten thousand instructors in Christ, yet have\nye not many fathers: for in Christ Jesus I have begotten you. I\nseek not yours, but you, ... and I will very gladly spend and be\nspent for you; though the more abundantly I love you, the less I\nbe loved.\" And, again:--\"Would to God ye could bear with me a\nlittle in my folly: and, indeed, bear with me. For I am jealous\nover you with godly jealousy. Wherefore? because I love you not?\nGod knoweth.\" [Footnote 1]\n\n    [Footnote 1: 2 Cor. vi. 13. I Cor. iv. 15.\n    2 Cor. xii. 14, 15; xi. i, 2, 11.]\n\n{19}\n\n\"I say the truth in Christ that I lie not,\" saith he to the\nRomans; \"I have great heaviness, and continual sorrow in my\nheart. For I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ for\nmy brethren.\" [Footnote 2]\n\n    [Footnote 2: Rom. ix. 2, 3.]\n\nAnd addressing the Galatians, he says:--\"Brethren, be as I am;\nfor I am as ye are. Ye know how through infirmity of the flesh I\npreached the Gospel to you at first. And my temptation, which was\nin my flesh, ye despised not, nor rejected. Where is, then, the\nblessedness ye spake of? For I bear you record, that, if it had\nbeen possible, ye would have plucked out your own eyes, and have\ngiven them to me. Am I therefore become your enemy because I tell\nyou the truth? ... My little children, of whom I travail in birth\nagain until Christ be formed in you.\" [Footnote 3]\n\n    [Footnote 3: Gal. iv. 12-16, 19.]\n\n... And, again, writing to the Philippians:--\"It is meet for me\nto think this of you all, because I have you in my heart. For God\nis my record, how greatly I long after you all in the bowels of\nJesus Christ. ... Yea, and if I be offered upon the sacrifice and\nservice of your faith, I joy, and rejoice with you all.\"\n[Footnote 4]\n\n    [Footnote 4: Philip, i. 7, 8; ii. 17.]\n\nAlas! in this our day we see around us the same men, the same\nfrailties, the same passions. Let us aim at possessing the same\napostolical heart.\n\n{20}\n\nIn like manner Saint Chrysostom. ... what love, what charity,\nwhat devotedness dwelt in the heart of that Christian orator! And\nas regards the people with whom he had to deal; what laxity, what\nvices, what baseness had he not to contend against! Nevertheless,\nhis heart is inflamed with charity, his yearnings are kindled.\nExclamations of pain, the plaintive accents of pity escape from\nhim; and even when he grows angry, he entreats, he sues for\npardon.\n\n\"I beseech you,\" said he to the faithful, \"to receive me with\naffection when I come here; for I have the purest love for you. I\nfeel that I love you with the tenderness of a father. If\noccasionally I reprove you rather sharply, it arises from the\nearnest desire which I have for your salvation. ... If you reject\nmy words, I shall not shake off the dust of my feet against you.\nNot that herein I would disobey the Saviour, but because the love\nwhich He has given me for you prevents my doing so. ... But, and\nif you refuse to love us, at least love yourselves by renouncing\nthat sad listlessness which possesses you. It will suffice for\nour consolation that we see you becoming better, and progressing\nin the ways of God. Hereby, also, will my affection appear still\ngreater, that while having so much to youward, you shall have so\nlittle toward me. ... We give you what we have received, and, in\ngiving it, ask nothing but your love in return. If we are\nunworthy of it, love us notwithstanding, and perchance your\ncharity may render us deserving.\"\n\n{21}\n\n\"You love me and I love you,\" said he, addressing the believers,\n\"and I would willingly give you my life, and not merely that\nsmall service which I render by preaching the Gospel unto you.\"\n\nIn consequence of sickness he had been obliged to go into the\ncountry. On his return he thus addressed his audience:--\"You\nthought of me, then, during my absence. For my part, it was\nimpossible for me to forget you. ... Even when sleep closed my\nbodily eyes, the strength of your affection for me opened the\neyes of my mind insomuch that while sleeping I often fancied that\nI was addressing you. ... I have preferred to return with the\nremains of my ailment rather than by staying longer away to do\nany injury to your charity; for while I was in the country you\nwere unremitting in the expression of your grief and condolence.\nThis was the subject of all your letters; and I am not less\ngrateful for your grief than for your praise, since one must be\ncapable of loving in order to grieve as you have done. ... Hence,\nas I am no longer ill, let us satisfy one an other; if, indeed,\nit be possible that we should be satisfied; for love is\ninsatiable, and the continual enjoyment of it by those whom it\nendears only inflames it still more. This is what was felt by\nSaint Paul, that foster-child of Charity, when he said: 'Owe no\nman any thing but to love one another;' for that debt is always\nbeing paid, yet is never discharged.\" [Footnote 5]\n\n    [Footnote 5: Second Homily on Repentance.]\n\n{22}\n\nAlso the following passage, which is quite to the purpose here:\n\"You are to me in the place of father, mother, brothers and\nchildren. You are every thing to me, and no joy or sorrow can\naffect me in comparison with that which concerns you. Even though\nI may not have to answer for your souls, I should not be the less\ninconsolable were you to perish; just as a father is not consoled\nfor the loss of his son, although he may have done all in his\npower to save him. That I may some day be found guilty, or that I\nmay be justified before the awful tribunal, is not the most\npressing object of my solicitude and of my fear; but that you may\nall, without exception, be saved, all made happy forever, that is\nenough: that is also necessary to my personal happiness, even if\nthe divine justice should have to reprove me for not having\ndischarged my ministry as I ought; although, in that respect, my\nconscience does not upbraid me. But what matters it by whom you\nare saved, provided that you are saved? And if any one is\nsurprised to hear me speak in this manner, it is because he knows\nnot what it is to be a father.\" [Footnote 6]\n\n    [Footnote 6: Homily iii. on the Acts.]\n\n{23}\n\nOn the other hand, if men ever ought to be loved, if, above all,\nthe heart of the Christian priest ought to be touched, moved even\nto tears with deep compassion for humanity, this is pre\u00ebminently\nthe time. Doubtless, humanity is deserving of blame, but it is\nalso most worthy of pity. Who, indeed, can be bold enough to hate\nit? Let us rather grieve for it: grieve for the men of the world\nwho are truly miserable. ... What truths can they lay hold of to\nresist themselves, to fill the void in their souls, to control\nthemselves under the trials of life? All have been assailed,\nshaken, denied, overturned. What are they to do in the midst of\nthis conflict of affirmations and negations? Hardly has a\npowerful and divine truth been presented to them, than one of\nthose so-called talented men has come forward to sully it by his\ngainsaying or scornful derision.\n\nAbove all, the rising generation calls for our pity, because it\nhas so long been famished. The half of its sustenance has been\nwithheld from it by the cruelty of the age.\n\nBut let us do it justice: youth appreciates sincerity and candor\nabove every thing. It is straightforward, and hates nothing so\nmuch as duplicity and hypocrisy. Well, when a young man awakens\ninto life, what does he see around him? Contradiction and\ninconsistency, a very Babel of tongues: a discordant, a hellish\nconcert. One bawls out to him, \"Reason!\" another \"Faith!\" here\nsome bid him \"Suffer!\" there others tell him to \"Rejoice!\" but\nsoon all join in the chorus, \"Money, my son, money!\" What, we\nask, is a youth of eighteen, with all his besetting passions, to\ndo in the midst of confusion like this?\n\n{24}\n\nIt were well if even the domestic hearth afforded an asylum from\nthis turmoil; but, unhappily, it assumes there its most flagrant\nform in father and mother. There we find one building up, and the\nother destroying. The mother prays, the father is prayerless; the\nmother is a communicant, the father is not; the mother confesses,\nthe father does not; the mother speaks well of religion, the\nfather derides it. ... What, we ask again, is a youth to do with\nhis affections under circumstances like these? Reason tells him\nthat if there is a truth, it must be the same for all; if there\nis a rule of morals, it should apply to all; that if there is a\nreligion, it should be the religion of all. Next, he is tempted\nto believe that he is being made sport of, and that the words\n_vice_, _truth_, and _virtue_ are nothing but bare words after\nall. Such is the aspect of things presented to the rising\ngeneration; and were it not that there is something naturally\ngood and generous in the hearts of the young, how much would they\ndespise their predecessors in life! ...\n\nThey are told of the existence of duties, laws, and other\nsubjects of vast importance, and yet they see men who ought to be\nserious spending their time in material pursuits, in hoarding\nmoney, or in sensual gratifications.\n\n{25}\n\nIs there not in all this enough to distress a sensitive mind, and\nto lead it to utter the complaint, \"O God! wherefore hast Thou\nplaced me in the midst of such contradictions? What am I to do?\nMy father, the man whom I am bound to resemble most on earth, can\nI condemn him? Can I any the more blame my mother, or charge her\nwith weakness--my mother, whose influence over me is so strong?\nWhat, then, am I to do? What must I become? Is life a desert\nwherein I am lost? Is there no one to guide me? Those who should\ndirect are the first to mislead me. My father says: Do as I do;\nfollow my example. My mother, with all the power of maternal\naffection, says: 'No, no, my son; do not follow your father, for\nif you do you will perish'.\" What shame should we take to\nourselves for a state of things like this, and how much should we\npity those who are its victims!\n\nAnd then the lower classes--the people,--who do penance under our\neyes in toil and suffering, how can we help loving, how avoid\ncompassionating, them? Undoubtedly, they have their faults, their\nfrailties, and their vices; but are we not more blameworthy than\nthey? The people are always what they are made. Is it their fault\nif the pernicious doctrines and scandals of the higher orders\nhave stained the lower classes of society? Moreover, they have\nbeen treated without pity and without mercy.\n{26}\nThey have been despoiled of all: even that last resource, hope,\nhas been taken from them. They have been forbidden to dream of\nhappiness. Heartless men have interposed between them and heaven,\nand have said to them, \"Listen; your toil, your trials, your\nrags, your hunger, the hunger of your wives and children--such is\nyour lot. You have nothing else to hope for; except, perchance,\nthe pleasures of revelry.\" They have been deprived of every\nthing: they had hopes of a better future, which have been taken\nfrom them; they had God above, who has been robbed from them, and\nthey have been told that heaven consisted in the enjoyments of\nearth. Meanwhile, they are miserable; and being miserable are, as\nit were, doomed already: yet, what have they done to merit this?\n\nYes, there has been no pity shown to the people; for has not the\npresent age regarded Christianity as a delusion? Christianity\nought to have been respected among the people, because it\nbenefited them, because it alleviated their wretchedness. But no,\na cruel age has had the fell courage to snatch it from them. A\ntale is told of a prisoner who became deeply attached to a\nspider, which served to while away the tedium of his captivity.\nHe fed it with his own food, and it was his delight to see it\nscamper about his cell; but the jailer, noticing this innocent\ngratification, crushed the insect. ...\n{27}\nThe spider was undoubtedly an insignificant thing; but the\njailer's conduct was harsh, and all would denounce it as a\ngratuitously brutal act. Well, then, if religion among the people\nhad been regarded merely as the spider of this poor prisoner, it\nought to have been respected, because it might have done them\ngood. On the contrary, the laborer has been denied the hope that\nthere will be a time of rest; the sufferer, that some day there\nwill be consolation; the wronged has not been allowed to\nanticipate that hereafter justice will be meted out; the mother\nwho deplores the loss of her child has been denied the hope that\nsome day she shall behold him again. Every thing has been taken\nfrom the people, and nothing has been left them but material\npleasures to be enjoyed at rare intervals.\n\nWhat a field is here opened out for the exercise of love, of\ncompassion, and of pity! O ye poor people whom Christ loved! is\nit that all your struggles and trials are merely a foretaste of\neternal misery? If you are to suffer here, and to suffer also\nafter death, then you must needs suffer forever! But that we\ncannot allow, and after the example of Christ, we should say to\nourselves:--\"I have pity upon the multitude, for if I send them\naway fasting they will faint by the way.\"\n\nLastly, on this Charity depends the success of evangelical\npreaching.\n\n{28}\n\nTo be co-workers with Christ in regenerating and saving mankind,\nwe must love it as He loved. He first did men good, then He\naddressed them. Hence it was that the people, unmindful of their\nmost urgent wants, followed Him exclaiming: \"Never man spake like\nthis man.\"\n\nLet us never forget that the object of preaching is to turn men\nfrom wrong-doing, and to lead them to that which is good. This is\nthe great aim of the Christian orator. But where is the seat of\ngood and evil, and where are both elaborated? According to the\ndivine word, \"_out of the heart_ proceed evil thoughts, murders,\nadulteries, fornications, thefts, false witness, blasphemy.\"\n\nThe heart, then, must be touched, moved, laid hold of. It is the\nheart which receives or rejects the truth; which says to it:\n\"Come, I welcome you;\" or, \"Begone, you annoy me;\" and it is love\nalone that can reach the heart and change it. An Arab proverb\nruns thus:--\"The neck is bent by the sword; but heart is only\nbent by heart.\" If you love, you yourself will be loved; the\ntruth from you will be loved; even self-sacrifice will be an act\nof love. ... What we most want nowadays is not additional\nknowledge, for nearly all of us know full well what we ought to\ndo. What we really want is the courage to act, the energy to do\nwhat is right.\n{29}\nTruth has sadly diminished amongst us, and its characteristics\nalso. What we need, then, is a style of preaching which\nenlightens and sustains, which threatens and encourages, which\nhumbles and exalts, and which throughout speaks to individuals,\nsaying, \"I love thee.\"\n\nIt is not by essays of reasoning, any more than by the sword,\nthat the moral world is to be swayed. A little knowledge, much\nsound sense, and much more heart--that is what is requisite to\nraise the great mass, the people, and to cleanse and purify them.\nTo be able to reason is human, very human, and one who is a man\nand nothing more may possess that ability as well as you, perhaps\nin a higher degree. But to love, to devote one's self, to\nsacrifice self, is something unearthly, divine, possessing a\nmagic power. Self-devotion, moreover, is the only argument\nagainst which human malevolence can find no answer. ...\n\nYou may employ the most splendid reasonings, clothed in the\ngrandest phraseology, and yet the mind of man will readily find\nwherewith to elude them. Who knows but that French wit, by one\nmalicious word, may not upset all at once your elaborate\nstructure of arguments? What is required in sacred eloquence is\nsomething new, something unexpected. Ask you what it is? It is\nlove; for loving, you will surprise, captivate: you will be\nirresistible.\n\n{30}\n\nFor it is useless to disguise the fact that in France nowadays\nthere is scarcely any belief in disinterestedness. Even the\npeople are beginning to think that no one acts without a motive\nof self-interest; and their thought is aptly expressed in the\nfrank and original reply of a poor devil who was brought before\nthe correctional police for having inscribed some Legitimist\nsentences on a wall. The president, observing his tattered\ngarments, and his any thing but aristocratic appearance, asked\nhim if he was really a Legitimist. \"By no means, Monsieur le\nPresident,\" was the answer; \"I merely do as others, as you do, as\nall do nowadays--_I work for those who feed me_.\"\n\nBut when the people meet with real affection, a thorough\ndevotedness, then they are overcome at once and yield heartily.\n\nYou visit a poor family, or one of the working-classes in a large\ntown, where the people are generally frank, and hardly know how\nto conceal their thoughts. Do not be surprised, then, if\nsomething like the following dialogue should take place:\n\n\"Well, sir, but who pays you for visiting us?\"\n\n\"Nobody.\"\n\n\"What interest, then, have you in coming?\"\n\n\"None whatever, beyond that of wishing to benefit you and your\nlittle ones, whom I love.\"\n\n\"I can scarcely believe it. There must be something underhand in\nthis.\"\n\n{31}\n\nBut when such persons are convinced that you entertain a sincere\naffection for them--that there is nothing _underhand_ in what you\ndo--you become all-powerful. The disclosure breaks in upon them\nlike a divine revelation, and they may be said to love the truth\neven before knowing it. Then you may speak, entreat, or command;\nyou will be listened to, you will be believed, obeyed. What else,\nindeed, could any do who love you, and also inspire love on your\npart?\n\nIt is quite right to reason and to appeal to the intellect, but\nit is not enough. Human malice will never be at a loss for a\nreply to your arguments. You may be acute, logical, endowed with\nlearning and talent, the right may be most clearly on your side,\nand yet your efforts will be unproductive; nay, you will often be\ndefeated, insomuch that it may be affirmed that he who uses\nreason only shall perish by reason. On the contrary, love causes\nthings to be regarded from a different point of view, removes\ndifficulties, and imparts light and courage simultaneously.\n\nYou say to a worldly woman:--\"If you were to occupy yourself a\nlittle in good works, such as visiting the poor.\" ... Forthwith\nshe starts a thousand objections against the suggestion:--\"What,\nI, in my position! ... I really have no leisure. I have my house,\nmy children, my servants, and so many other things to attend to.\nThen, my health is so wretched, and my husband cares for nothing.\n... Besides, it is a woman's first duty to look after her\ndomestic concerns.\"\n{32}\nIn a word, she instantly bristles up with good reasons. You\nencounter a pointed defence everywhere, and no gap to admit your\narguments. Beware, therefore, of reasoning with her. Go straight\nto her heart, beget charity within her, make her to feel, to\nlove, and soon you will hardly recognize her as the same\nindividual, for the change will be almost instantaneous, and\nevery subsidiary stumbling-block will disappear. Then she will go\nand come, suffer, be humble, self-denying, examplary.\n\nWoman is called the feeble sex. True, when she does not love; but\nwhen love takes possession of her soul, she becomes the strong,\nthe able, the devoted sex. She then looks difficulties in the\nface which would make men tremble.\n\nAn orator of high intellectual powers occupies a pulpit, and\nleaves scarcely any results behind him. He is succeeded by one of\nordinary attainments, who draws wondering crowds and converts\nmany. The local sceptics are amazed. \"This man's logic and\nstyle,\" say they, \"are weak; how comes it that he is so\nattractive?\" It comes from this, that he has a heart; that he\nloves and is loved in return. So when a venerable superior of\nmissionaries [Footnote 7] wished to learn what success a priest\nhad met with on his tour, he generally asked, \"Did you really\nlove your congregations?\" If the answer was in the affirmative,\nthe pious man remarked--\"Then your mission has been a good one.\"\n\n    [Footnote 7: This clearly refers to Home Missionaries. ED.]\n\n{33}\n\nHave a heart, then, in dealing with the people; have charity;\nlove, and cause others to love, to feel, to thrill, to weep, if\nyou wish to be listened to, and to escape the criticisms of the\nlearned as well as the ignorant. Then let them say what they\nlike, let them criticise and inveigh as they please, you will\npossess an invincible power. What a grand mission, what a\nglorious heritage is that of loving our fellow-men! Let others\nseek to lord it over them, and to win their applause; for my\npart, I prefer holding-out a hand to them, to bless and to pity\nthem, convinced by a secret instinct that it is the best way to\nsave them.\n\nI have already remarked that our language has not always breathed\nthis broad and tender charity. The injustice and unreason which\nwe have had to encounter have made us somewhat querulous, and we\nhave become champions when we should have remained fathers and\npastors. We have followed the world too much into the arena of\ndiscussion. We have fancied that it was enough to prove a truth\nin order to secure its adoption into the habits of life. We have\nforgotten that Saint Fran\u00e7ois de Sales converted 70,000\nProtestants by the sweetness of his charity, and not one by\nargument.\n{34}\nNevertheless, strange enough, much is urged on the young\nclergyman as regards the necessity and mode of proving a truth\nand of constructing a sermon, but scarcely any thing on the\nnecessity and manner of loving his audience.\n\nJust look at the young priest on his entrance upon the sacred\nministry. He is armed cap-\u00e0-pie with arguments, he speaks only by\nsyllogisms. His discourse bristles with _now, therefore,\nconsequently_. He is dogmatic, peremptory. One might fancy him a\nnephew of one of those old bearded doctors of the middle ages,\nsuch as Petit Jean or Courte-Cuisse. He is disposed to transfix\nby his words every opponent, and to give quarter to none. He\nthrusts, cuts, overturns relentlessly. My friend, lay aside a\npart of your heavy artillery. Take your young man's, your young\npriest's heart, and place it in the van before your audience, and\nafter that you may resort to your batteries if they are needed.\nMake yourself beloved,--be a father. Preach affectionately, and\nyour speech, instead of gliding over hearts hardened by pride,\nwill pierce _even to the dividing of the joints and marrow_; and\nthen that may come to be remarked of you which was said of\nanother priest by a man of genius who had recently been reclaimed\nto a Christian life:--\"I almost regret my restoration, so much\nwould it have gratified me to have been converted by so\naffectionate a preacher.\"\n\n{35}\n\nI do not mean to say that the truth should not be set forth with\npower and energy. God forbid! but it should be seasoned\nthroughout with abundant charity. It is only those, indeed, who\nlove much and are themselves beloved, who possess the prerogative\nof delivering severe truths in an effectual manner. The people\npardon every thing in those to whom they are attached, and\nreceive home, without recoiling, the sternest truths and reproofs\naddressed to them by a beloved preacher.\n\nLet your preaching, then, be the effusion of a heart full of love\nand truth. Skilfully disconnect vices and errors from\nindividuals. Place the latter apart, and then assail the former:\nbe merciless, close up all loop-holes, allow no scope for the\nresistance of bad passions; tread the evil under foot. But raise\nup the vicious and erring, stretch out a hand to them, pour\nconfidence and good-will into their souls, address them in\nlanguage such as will make them hail their own\ndefeat:--\"Brethren, I speak to you as I love you, from the bottom\nof my heart.\" \"Permit us to declare unto you the whole truth;\nsuffer us to be apostles; suffer us to address you in words\nenlivened by charity; suffer us to save you. ...\"\n\nThus have we endeavored to describe the nature, the power, and\nthe triumphs of apostolical preaching; which should be the same\nnow as it was in olden time.\n\n{36}\n\nBut apostolical eloquence is no longer well understood. It is now\nmade to consist of I hardly know what: the utterance of truths\nwithout any order, in a happy-go-lucky fashion, extravagant\nself-excitement, bawling, and thumping on the pulpit. There is a\ntendency in this respect to follow the injunctions of an old\ndivine of the sixteenth century to a young bachelor of\narts:--\"_Percute cathedram fortiter; respice Crucifixum torvis\noculis; nil diu ad propositnm, et bene prcedicabis_.\"\n\nIt is evident that any thing so congenial to indolence cannot be\napostolical eloquence, which consists of an admixture of truth,\nfrankness, and charity. To be an apostle one must love, suffer,\nand be devoted.\n\nFor, what is an apostle? To use the language of one who was\nworthy to define the meaning of the word, and who exemplified the\ndefinition in his own life: [Footnote 8] \"An apostle is fervent\ncharity personified. ... The apostle is eager for work, eager to\nendure. He yearns to wean his brethren from error, to enlighten,\nconsole, sustain, and to make them partakers of the happiness of\nChristianity. The apostle is a hero; he is a martyr; he is a\ndivine, a father; he, is indomitable, yet humble; austere, yet\npure; he is sympathizing, tender. ... The apostle is grand,\neloquent, sublime, holy. He entertains large views, and is\nassiduous in carrying them out for the regeneration and salvation\nof mankind.\"\n\n    [Footnote 8: P\u00e8re Ravignan.]\n\n{37}\n\nWe must return, then, to this broad and tender benevolence. Let\nour congregations feel it, read it; see it in our persons, in our\nfeatures, in our words, in our minutest actions. Let them\nunderstand that the priest is, before all others, their best,\ntheir most faithful friend. Nothing must disconcert our charity.\nOur heart must be enlarged, and soar above the frail ties, the\nprejudices, and the vices of humanity. Did not Saint Paul say: \"I\ncould wish that myself were accursed from Christ,\" for the sake\nof his erring brethren? And did not Moses elect to be blotted out\nfrom the book of life rather than see his cowardly, ungrateful,\nfickle countrymen stricken by the hand of the Almighty? The\nweaker men are, the more need have they to be loved.\n\nSuch love does good to all. It cheers the heart of the preacher.\nIt also creates sympathy, and those electric currents which go\nfrom the speaker to the hearts of the faithful, and from the\nhearts of the faithful back to the speaker. It reveals what\nshould be said, and, above all, supplies the appropriate accent\nwherein to express it. Saint Augustine writes: \"Love first, and\nthen you may do what you choose.\" We may subjoin: \"Love first,\nand then you may say what you please;\" for affectionate speech\nfortifies the mind, removes obstacles, disposes to\nself-sacrifice, makes the unwilling willing, and elevates the\ncharacter as well as the mind.\n\n{38}\n\nCharity is the great desideratum of the present time. It is\nconstantly being remarked that the age in which we live requires\nthis and that. What the age really wants is this:--It needs to be\nloved. ... It needs to be drawn out of that egotism which frets\nand consumes it. It needs a little esteem and kindly treatment to\nmake good all its deficiencies. How silly we are, then, to go so\nfar in search of the desired object, overlooking the fact that\n_the kingdom of God is within us_--in our hearts.\n\nBe it ours, therefore, to love the people. ... Is it not to that\nend that we have no family ties? ... Let us prevent their hate,\nwhich is so harmful to them. Let love be present with us always,\naccording to the saying of Saint Augustine:--\"Let us love in\nspeaking, and speak in love. Let there be love in our\nremonstrances ... love also in our reproofs. Let the mouth speak,\nbut let the heart love.\" Yes, let us learn to love, to endure, to\nbe devoted. What! do we not belong to the same family as those\nexcellent and self-denying men who leave country and home to seek\nand to save souls beyond the ocean? Were we not brought up at the\nsame school? They love infidels, they love pagans and savages\nsufficiently well to sacrifice every thing for them. ... Are not\nour pagans in France worth as much as the pagans of Oceania? Are\nnot our French little ones as deserving of compassion as Chinese\nchildren?\n{39}\nTrue, their parents do not expose them on the highways; but they\nabandon them to shame, to vice, to the education of the streets.\n... It is right that we should commiserate the heathen, that\ndevotion should be manifested on their behalf; but let us have\ncompassion on our own children also, on our brothers in France,\nthat they be not suffered to perish before our eyes. ... Yes, I\ninvoke pity for this people; pity for their sufferings, their\nmiseries, their prejudices, their deplorable subjection to\npopular opinion, their ignorance, their errors. Let us, at least,\ntry to do them good, to save them. Therein lies bur happiness; we\nshall never have any other. All other sources are closed to us;\nthere is the well-spring of the most delectable joys. Apart from\ncharity, what remains? Vanity, unprofitableness, bitterness,\nmisery, nothingness.\n\n\n\n{40}\n\n  Chapter II.\n\n  The People.\n\n\n  The actual State of the People.\n  Their good and bad Qualities.\n  The People in large Cities.\n  The People in small Towns.\n  The People in rural Districts.\n  How to benefit these Three Classes of People.\n  One powerful Means is to act upon the People through.\n    the upper Classes, and upon the latter through the former.\n\n\nWe shall now assume that you love the people. But, besides that,\nin order to address them pertinently, you must understand them\nwell, know their good qualities, their failings, instincts,\npassions, prejudices, and their way of looking at things; in a\nword, you must know them by heart. To a profound acquaintance\nwith religion must be joined a profound knowledge of humanity as\nit exists at the present day. But, to speak frankly, the people\nare not known; not even by the most keen-sighted, not even by our\nstatesmen. They are only studied superficially, in books, in\nromances, in the newspapers, or else they are not studied at all.\n{41}\nJudgment is mostly formed from appearances. One sees a man mad\nwith rage, who insults, blasphemes, or who staggers through the\nstreets, and he says: \"There; behold the people!\" Another sees\none who risks his own life to save a fellow-creature, or who\nfinds and restores a purse or a pocket-book to its owner, and he\nexclaims exultingly, \"Behold the people!\" Both are mistaken, for\nboth substitute an exception for the rule.\n\nIn order to understand the people well, we must probe beyond the\nsurface, and take them as they are when they are most themselves.\nThey must be studied in the spirit, as it were, and not on the\noutside; for they often appear worse than they actually are.\nStill less should we arrest our researches, as is frequently\ndone, at a point where they clash against ourselves. On the other\nhand, I feel bound to state that if we do not know the people,\nthey, in turn, do not know the classes of society above them; and\nit is on that account that we do not love each other as we ought.\n\nAt first sight, the French people--the lower orders--are a real\nmystery: an inconceivable medley of weakness and of courage, of\ngoodness and ill-will, of delicacy and rudeness, of generosity\nand egotism, of seriousness and of frivolity. It may be said that\nthey possess two natures: one endowed with good sense, which is\ngenerous, feeling, and contrite; the other unreflecting, which\nraves and drinks, curses and swears. On one side they are\nfrivolous, vain, weak, scornful, sceptical, credulous,\nheadstrong.\n\n{42}\n\nIn their frivolity they jeer at every thing; at what is frivolous\nand what is serious, at what is profane and what is sacred. Their\nweakness under temptation is lamentable: they have no restraint\nover themselves. But, above all, their credulity is unbounded.\nThis is their weak, their bad side; the source of one portion of\nour evils.\n\nAlas! what may not this people be led to believe? There is no lie\nso great, no absurdity so gross, the half of which they may not\nbe made to swallow when their passions dictate that any thing may\nbe gained thereby, or they conceive that their interests are\nassailed. At certain seasons of blind infatuation they may be\nmade to believe any thing; even that which is incredible, even\nwhat is impossible. Unfortunately this is to some extent the case\namong the higher classes. The people surrender themselves to the\nfirst comer who has a glib tongue and can lie adroitly.\n\nTheir credulity, as already stated, knows no bounds; especially\nas respects the rich and the clergy, whom they regard as the\ncause of all the ills which befall them. Accidents wholly\nindependent of human volition are placed to their account. Is\nthere a dearth? They create the scarcity of corn. Is there\nstagnation in trade? They restrain the capitalists. Undoubtedly\nthey had some hand in the cholera; and it is not quite certain\nbut that there exists some damnable connivance between them and\nthe caterpillars and weevils. ... Poor people! yet how they are\ndeceived! Thereupon their good sense disappears, their heads\nreel, reflection abandons them, and then they rise up in anger:\nstrike, pillage, kill. ... They become terrible.\n\n{43}\n\nBut I hasten to say that if there is evil in the French people,\nthere is also good: much good. They are witty, frank, logical,\ngenerous, amiable, and above all, _they have hearts_. This is\nundeniable; and we should never despair of a man who has a heart,\nfor there is always something in him to fall back upon. When all\nelse is lost to this people, their heart survives, for it is the\nlast thing which dies within them.\n\nIt has been said that frivolity is the basis of the French\ncharacter; but that judgment is incorrect. More truly it should\nbe said that the French character is frivolous outwardly, but at\nthe bottom it is generous, combined with exquisite good sense.\n\nVery few are aware how much generosity and sympathy toward all\nsuffering are hid under the jerkin and smock-frock. The people\npossess an inexhaustible store of sentiment, of the spirit of\nself-sacrifice and devotedness. Why, then, are they not better\nunderstood? The mischievous, indeed, know them too well; for when\nthey would mislead or stir them up, they appeal to their sense of\njustice, to their love of humanity. They point out to them\ngrievances which should be redressed, oppressions to be avenged.\n{44}\nThen are their passions lit up, and they are carried away ... we\nneed not tell the rest. The motive on their part was almost\nalways praiseworthy at the outset, in some measure at least; but\nonce led beyond themselves they hurried headlong into extremes.\n\nThe heart, then, is the better side of the French people; their\nhonorable and glorious side; their genius. Others may claim the\ngenius of extensive speculations in science and industry; to them\nbelongs the genius of heart, of love, of sympathy, of charity.\nEndowed with so goodly a portion, what have they to complain of;\nfor is not dominion over mankind achieved thereby? Hence, when\nProvidence designs to spread an idea throughout the world, it\nimplants it in a Frenchman's breast. There it is quickly\nelaborated; and then that heart so magnanimous and communicative,\nso fascinating and attractive, gives it currency with electric\nspeed.\n\nIf noble aspirations spring from the heart, they nowhere find a\nmore fertile soil; and, strange to say, this excellent gift is\nfound in all classes, and under all conditions. A man may be\nworse than a nonentity in a moral point of view, but he has a\nheart still. Would you do him good? aim at that.\n\nBut you will say: \"Look at those coarse fellows, those besotted\nclowns sunk in materialism, those men stained with crime and\ndegraded by debauchery, where is their heart? They have none.\" I\nsay they have a heart still: go direct to the soul, pierce\nthrough that rough and forbidding crust of vices and evil\npassions, and you will find a treasure.\n\n{45}\n\nProof in point is to be met with everywhere; even in the\ntheatres, where its manifestation has been noticed by observant\nspectators. The galleries are generally occupied by persons of\nall conditions; mechanics, profligates, vagabonds, loose women,\nand even men, who, to use their own indulgent expression, _have\nhad a weakness_: that is, have spent some years in prison, or at\nthe treadmill. It is gratifying to witness the conduct of that\nmass during the performance of some touching scene or generous\naction. They are often moved even to tears--they applaud and\nstamp with enthusiasm. On the contrary, when mean or heinous\nactions are represented, they can not hoot or execrate enough:\nthey shake the fist at the scoundrel or traitor, hurl abuse at\nhim, and not unfrequently more substantial missiles.\n\nIt will be said that all this feeling is transitory. So it may\nbe; still it shows that there remain in such breasts, chords\nwhich may be made to vibrate, hearts not yet dead, good\nsentiments which are capable of cultivation.\n\nSuch are the French people taken in the mass; such their merits\nand defects. The head is not their better part, and they might\nalmost be described as having a good heart but a bad head.\n{46}\nIn order to lead them, they must be seized where they present the\nbest hold. To do this effectually requires sound sense and a\nkindly heart, moderate reasoning, and very little metaphysics. An\nopposite course, however, is too frequently pursued. Crotchets,\nfancies, theories, vapid ideas--such is the stuff wherewith\nattempts have been made to influence them. Is it surprising that\nthey have not always yielded to such guidance?\n\nOn points of wit, argument, and right, the Frenchman is acute,\npunctilious, headstrong. On points of generosity and devotedness\nhe is tractable, liberal, admirable. Demand any thing from him as\na right, and he will refuse it. Ask the same thing of him,\nappealing to his heart, and he will often grant it with the best\npossible grace. But, above all, if you wish to restore him to\nequanimity and a right mind, get him to perform an act of\ncharity.\n\nTo prove that the heart rarely disappears, and that it always\nretains a hold on the mind, I must be permitted to cite an\nexample combining the good and the bad qualities which are to be\nmet with in the lower grades of society. I shall frequently refer\nto facts; for in morals, as in many other matters, they bring us\nsooner to the point aimed at.\n\n{47}\n\nIt was in one of the most wretched quarters of Paris that a\npriest went to visit a rag-woman who was dangerously ill. She was\nlying on straw so damp that it was fit only for the dung-hill.\nThe visitor had reached the landing-place, and was reflecting how\nhe might best minister to the poor woman's wants, when he heard\nthe cry of another female from the end of a dark corridor,\nexclaiming: \"Help! murder!\"\n\nHe ran toward the spot, and pushing open a door saw two young\nchildren crying. Extended on the floor lay the unfortunate woman,\nwhile a tall man with a sinister countenance, and clad only in a\npair of pantaloons and a ragged shirt, stood over her, kicking\nher. Her face was already black and blue from his violence.\n\nThe priest sprang towards the man and said: \"Wretch! what are you\nabout? Will you not desist?\" He did desist, but it was to attack\nthe speaker. He seized him suddenly by the breast, thrust two\nfingers under his cassock, and then, without uttering a word,\nlifted him as if he had been an infant, and carried him to an\nopen window. There he angrily told him that he would not have\npriests intermeddling with his affairs, and _disturbing the peace\nof his household_, and that he intended to pitch him out of the\nwindow forthwith. In fact, he was preparing to put the threat\ninto execution; but, as if wishing to gloat over his victim, he\ncontinued to glare at him with the eyes of a tiger, holding him\nall the while as with an arm of steel.\n\n{48}\n\nThe priest was alarmed, but God enabled him not to betray it. He\nregarded his antagonist calmly, and said almost with a smile:\n\"Gently, my friend; you are much too hasty. Do you really mean to\nthrow me out of the window? Is that the most pressing business on\nhand? You who are always talking about fraternity and charity; do\nyou know what was taking place while you were beating your wife?\nAnother woman was dying on a dung-heap in your house. I am sure\nyou would be horrified at such a thing. Now, let us both see what\nwe can do on her behalf; for you are by no means such a bad\nfellow as you wish to appear. I will pay for some clean straw, if\nyou will go and fetch it.\" Terror, combined with the desire of\nwinning over his assailant, made the priest eloquent, and he had\nhardly ended his appeal before the lion was tamed. The man's\ncountenance rapidly changed, and he relaxed his hold at once;\nthen taking off his shabby cap and placing it under his arm, he\nassumed a respectful attitude, like that of a soldier in presence\nof a superior officer, and replied:--\"If you talk in that style,\nsir, the case is different. I have always been humane, and will\nreadily help you to assist the poor woman. I will, in fact, do\nany thing you please; for it won't do to let a fellow-creature\ndie in that plight.\" Thereupon the priest gave him the money, and\nhe went out to purchase two bundles of clean straw.\n\n{49}\n\nIn the mean time the women of the neighborhood, attracted by the\naltercation, had rushed to the spot, and on seeing the priest\nexpostulated with him in these terms:--\"What are you about? Do\nyou know where you are? You are in the clutches of the worst man\nin the quarter. He is so outrageous that even cut-throats are\nafraid of him, and he has often said that nothing would give him\nmore pleasure than to break a man's neck, especially if that man\nwere a priest.\" These remonstrances were by no means encouraging;\nbut those who urged them little knew the power of charity.\n\nThe sturdy fellow soon returned with the bundles on his shoulder.\nHe was calm, and his countenance had become almost honest. On\nentering the room where the poor woman lay, he took half a bundle\nof straw and spread it on the floor. The most touching part of\nthe scene followed. He lifted the sufferer in his arms with the\ntenderness of a mother, placed her on the clean straw, then made\nher bed, and finally laid her upon it, just as a mother would her\nchild. A female wished to help him, but he pushed her aside,\nremarking that he was well able to do a humane act unassisted.\n\nThe man was in tears, and the priest perceiving that he wished to\naddress him, retired toward the window. But his new acquaintance\ncould not utter a word; emotion choked him. The priest gave him\nhis hand, and the stalwart workman squeezed it as in a vice, in\ntoken of his affection.\n{50}\n\"Well done, my friend,\" said the priest, \"well done; I quite\nunderstand you. I knew full well that you were not as bad as you\nwanted to make me believe. I knew you were capable of doing a\ngood action.\" \"You have done it all,\" was the reply; \"four men\ncould not master me, and yet you have overcome me with as many\nwords. _You must be a true pastor_.\"\n\nThe priest hastened to turn this favorable opportunity to profit,\nby pleading the cause of the wife, and rejoined:--\"But, my\nfriend, you have done something which is not becoming. You have\nill-used your wife; and a man does not marry a woman to beat her.\nI have no doubt she has her failings, and you also have yours.\nYou should bear with one another. Come, promise me that you will\nnever strike her again.\" At these words, his face assumed\nsomewhat of its former sullenness, and dropping the priest's hand\nhe said frankly:--\"I am very sorry that I cannot do as you wish.\nI will not promise because I should not keep my word.\" ... The\npriest returned to the charge, and among other remarks which made\nsome impression on the man, he was quite brought to bay by the\nfollowing:--\"So you won't promise not to beat your wife? That is\nsimply because you don't reflect. Surely, you who have just done\nan act of kindness to a strange woman, cannot, with any decency,\ncontinue to beat your own wife.\"\n{51}\nAfter much hesitation, he pledged his word, backing it with a\ntremendous oath. Since then, he has never been intoxicated,\nneither has he once struck his wife. You should have seen with\nwhat gratitude the woman welcomed her preserver on his next\nvisit. \"What a blessing my acquaintance with you has proved,\"\nsaid she. \"Since your last visit you have saved me from two\n_floorers_. My husband does not drink now, but he still goes into\nviolent passions. He raises his fist, and I fear he is about to\nstrike me; but he forbears. He calms down at once, and says: 'Tis\nwell for you that that abb\u00e9 came, otherwise I would have floored\nyou again.\"\n\nNot long after, he was reclaimed to a Christian life; he\nconfessed and communicated, and it is now rare to find a man of\nmore exalted sentiments. He refused assistance from every one,\nsaying that he was able to earn his own livelihood, and to\nprovide for his family. To do this, he worked all day and part of\nthe night also. Peace and comfort were restored to his home,\nwhich his wife now likens to a paradise.\n\nTo give an instance of his noble disposition, I may mention that\ntoward the end of last December he called on the priest, to whom\nhe had become greatly attached, and said to him with his\ncharacteristic frankness:--\"I am very sad to-day, Monsieur\nl'Abb\u00e9.\"\n\n{52}\n\n\"Why, my friend?\"\n\n\"Because I am poor. In the course of my lifetime I have suffered\nmisery enough. I have cursed the rich, and that Providence which\ngave them their wealth. Nevertheless, I don't believe I ever felt\nthe wretchedness of being poor as much as I do to-day; although\nit is for a different reason.\"\n\n\"What is it, then, my good friend?\"\n\n\"Well, it is this. Here we are close upon the beginning of a new\nyear, and I wished to make you a small present--for you have been\nvery kind to me and I have no money. However, be assured of this,\nat least, that you have in me a devoted friend, and that I am\nalways at your service. Send me wherever you please; I would walk\nbarefoot and beat a steam-engine to serve you.\" Then, taking the\npriest's hand, he added with unspeakable kindness and\nenergy:--\"Monsieur l'Abb\u00e9, should there ever be another\nrevolution, and any assault be made on the clergy, come and take\nrefuge with me; come and hide in our quarter, and I vow that many\nheads shall be broken before a hair of yours is touched.\"\n\nSuch are the people, taken as they are with the good and the bad\nwhich is in them. I have again selected my illustrations from\namong the least favorable specimens, and I may further add that\nit rarely happens that a priest meets even with abuse from the\nmost depraved. The instance above adduced is exceptional, and\narose out of the anger of the moment.\n\n{53}\n\nSuch, then, are the people generally; but their characteristics\nare modified by circumstances of locality, intercourse, and\neducation. There are the people of the large cities, those of\nsmall towns, and the people in rural districts. There are also\nthe people who work, and those who are always looking for work\nand never find it; with whom the true people are often\nconfounded.\n\n\n    The People in large Cities.\n\nThe people in large cities possess, in a high degree, all the\nmerits and defects which we are about to notice.\n\nThey are fickle, vain, braggart, improvident, mad after\npleasures, and not very moral.\n\nThe ease with which they may be duped is astounding. They are\nreadily excited, they clamor, are carried away, strike for\nnothing whatever, and then they reflect. They live from hand to\nmouth. When work is plentiful, they squander; when it is scarce,\nthey fast and suffer.\n\nThey love money for the pleasures which it procures; and in their\nestimation a debauch is one of the greatest enjoyments of life.\n\n{54}\n\nThis latter tendency they have borrowed from the present age;\nwhich is somewhat sensual, not to say gluttonous--that term would\nnot be parliamentary--as it would have been called in former\ntimes. Nowadays a good dinner is not a matter of indifference to\nothers besides men of high standing. A person of exalted rank was\nonce told that his cook had the talent of adding considerably to\nhis own wages. \"I know it,\" was the reply; \"but I hold that we\ncannot pay a man too handsomely for making us happy twice a day.\"\nIn fact, in these times, one who can thus serve you out two\nrations of happiness _per diem_ is regarded as a treasure.\n\nDespite the vices, however, which exist in large cities, there\nare many virtues also to be found among the resident people. They\nare sincere, generous, disinterested, amiable, and withal\nextremely witty. In the midst of their hardships, or when exposed\nto danger, they will often utter sparkling sallies, or laugh\ngood-naturedly at their miseries. They are not rich; but what\nmatters that? They are ever ready to help those who are poorer\nthan themselves. In case of an accident, they will run, work,\nexpose themselves to save others at the risk of their own lives.\nThey are ready to sacrifice themselves for whatever they deem\njust and right. Unfortunately, in their opinion, the authorities\nare always in the wrong, and they are never backward to take part\nagainst the law.\n\n{55}\n\nThe more I study the people, the more incomprehensible they\nappear to me. They are at once sceptical and religious. Watch\nthem in a public-house there they curse and swear, and indulge\nfreely in ribald talk; but if a funeral happens to pass by, they\nimmediately doff their caps, and make the sign of the cross.\nTo-day they will thrash one of their comrades unmercifully; the\nday after they will adopt an orphan. No class ever had so much\nneed of guidance; of benevolent sympathizing guidance. They drift\nwith the wind under the influence of good or evil counsels. They\nmay become sublime or atrocious, angels of heaven or demons.\n\nThe people themselves feel their own weakness and fickleness, and\nare occasionally dismayed at it. Some time back, one of them,\nwhile looking at the stains of blood which had been shed in a\nchurch in the month of September, 1792, was seized with a sudden\nhorror, and, laying hold of the arm of the priest who accompanied\nhim, exclaimed with a shudder:--\"I fear those times may return;\nfor, you see, we are unfortunate. We are ill-advised, and are as\nready to kill with one hand as we are to embrace with the other.\"\n\nThey require, then, to be under constant guidance They always\nneed to have some one near who will sustain and keep them in the\nright way by appealing to the better dictates of their hearts.\n\n{56}\n\nIn one respect, such guidance is easier here than elsewhere. You\ntread on ground which is perfectly well-known. These people can\nhide nothing. As the saying is, when an idea tickles them, they\nmust scratch it until it finds utterance. Their frankness is\noccasionally foul-mouthed, and they do not hesitate to blurt it\nout to your face. Nevertheless, such a style rather pleases me\nthan otherwise. You know, at least, with whom you have to deal;\nand when such an one says that he is attached to you, he is\nsincere. God grant that the feeling in every case may be abiding!\n\nThey are not tenacious either of their errors, their prejudices,\nor their passions. It is true that they are disposed to assume\nairs, to repine, and to threaten. They declare that they will do\nthis and that; but it is by no means difficult to prevent them\nfrom doing it at all. Ridicule their prejudices and their foibles\nfairly, and with sound sense, and they will surrender them, and\nyou will overcome them all. Moreover, they will not be the last\nto laugh at their own folly.\n\nSome weeks after the revolution of February, when men's brains\nwere all in a whirl, and every one fancied himself called upon to\npresent us with a better world than that which Providence has\ngiven us, Monseigneur D'Amata, Bishop of Oceania, happened to be\nin Paris. One day he passed by a club in full session. The\nattendance was numerous, and all ears were bent and all eyes\nfixed on an orator who was dilating on the benefits of communism.\n{57}\nHe wound up with the usual phrases: No more poor nor rich; no\nmore great nor small; no more palaces nor hovels; but perfect\nequality and happiness for all. After which peroration there was\na tremendous outburst of applause.\n\nThe bishop then asked leave to speak, which being granted, he\nmounted on a table which served for a rostrum, and spoke to the\nfollowing effect: \"Citizens, you have just been hearing about\ncommunism, and a great deal of good has been attributed to it. I\nam entitled as much as any man to have my say on the subject. For\na long time past I have resided in a country where communism is\ncarried out into practice thoroughly.\" (Increased attention.)\n\"There every thing is common: the land, the forests, rivers,\nfish, game, and women. But let me tell you how matters go on\nthere. Nobody works; the fields are untilled; and the inhabitants\nlive on fish and game. When these fail, as the people must eat,\nthey hunt one another. The stronger catches the weaker, roasts\nhim on a spit, and then eats him. Reflect, therefore, before\nestablishing communism, whether such a state of existence would\nsuit you. Should you persist, I would advise you to lay in a good\nsupply of spits, and to sharpen them well, for they will be the\nmost valuable stock under the reign of communism.\" Whereat there\nfollowed an outcry of \"Down with communism! Away with communism!\"\n\n{58}\n\n  _The People in small Towns._\n\nIn small towns, the scene changes and assumes smaller\nproportions. Little things play the part of great things. A small\ntown is the home, the real classical soil of petty ideas, petty\nvanities, petty triumphs, and gross backbiting. They all know,\nsalute, and criticise each other. None is more slanderous than\nthe male resident in a small town, except it be his wife. The\nchief authority of the place is neither the mayor, nor the\nsub-prefect, nor even the prefect himself. It is public opinion,\nflanked by its inseparable companion, routine.\n\nThe local virtue is not independence of character, but timidity.\nEvery one fears his friends as well as his enemies, neighbors as\nwell as strangers; he fears for his own _amour propre_, and he\nfears to give others cause for talking about him.\n\nAll this has exercised a pernicious influence over the people in\nsuch localities. They are extremely timid, niggardly, insincere,\nrather hypocritical, and inordinately obsequious. They may be\nwell-disposed to discharge their religious duties; but should\nthere happen to be a free-thinker among them, one who takes the\nlead in the finance or trade of the place, who might traduce or\nturn such conduct into ridicule, or bespatter it with some of the\nblasphemies picked up from among the off-scourings of the\neighteenth century, they do not dare to perform them; they\ntremble at the idea, so abject is their state of dependence: they\nhave not even the courage to brave sarcasm.\n{59}\nThis servile deference, which has been ignominiously expelled\nfrom our great cities, has taken refuge in our small towns and\ncountry districts, where it exercises a tyrannical sway.\n\nOn the other hand, the people in small towns are more moral, more\nprovident, less turbulent, and more faithful to family\nobligations than those in large cities. They, above all others,\nshould not be judged by appearances: by that cold and lifeless\nindifference which characterizes them. Hence it is that they are\nso little understood, even by those who come into closest contact\nwith them.\n\nIn order to win them, you must attack them boldly. Promote\nconcurrence toward some benevolent object, by grouping your men\ntogether, so that they may not feel isolated. Then they will take\ncourage, and will get to understand that it is no disgrace to\npractise religious duties; or, at least, that in attending to\nthem, they are in fair and goodly company.\n\nTo that end, organize a society of St. Vincent de Paul; or,\nshould one exist already, develop it still further. It is no\nlonger allowable that a small town, or even a village, should be\nwithout a branch of that institution. The attempt has succeeded\nin many hamlets; and, surely, there is no inhabited locality so\nunfortunate as not to possess at least three zealous Christians.\n{60}\nIf so, they must be created forthwith; otherwise, what are we\ngood for? Have also a Society of Saint Francis Xavier, and an\nApprentices Association. Occupy yourself chiefly with the men;\nleave the faithful flock in order to seek after the lost sheep;\nand, above all, let it not be said of you as it is said of\ncertain small towns, that _religion there is engrossed with the\ndistaff_.\n\n\n  _The People in Rural Districts._\n\nThe people in the country are the reverse of the people in large\ncities. There, every thing moves slowly. Results are tardily\nobtained, but they are more durable.\n\nThe peasant is bound to routine; he is diffident, dissembling,\nsusceptible, cunning, and somewhat avaricious.\n\nAbove all others, usage and custom are a law to him. He never\nrisks any thing novel, or trusts to new faces, but with reserve.\nHe possesses few ideas; but those he has he adheres to as\ntenaciously as he does to his little bit of land.\n\nHe seldom comes straight to the point; he is incapable of saying\nyes or no frankly, and he must be very acute who can penetrate\nhis thoughts. He will listen to you, and appear to approve all\nyou say; but in fact, he disagrees with you.\n{61}\nHe has, moreover his grain of vanity; why should he not? Is he\nnot a child of Adam, like the rest of mankind? Has he not, like\nthem, preserved the tradition of his noble origin?\n\nHence he is prouder of being mayor of his _commune_, or an\nofficer in the National Guard, than either a prefect or a marshal\nof France is of his dignity. And as regards deference, no man is\nmore exacting than a peasant who has risen to the rank mayor, or\nbecome an enriched shopkeeper.\n\nLastly, the peasant does not possess much acquired knowledge; but\nhe makes up for the deficiency by consummate shrewdness. He must\nbe a sharp person indeed, who can overreach him where money is\nconcerned; unless he can manage to play upon his credulity or his\ndread of spells and witchcraft.\n\nNothing can be more perverse, more astute, or more cunning than\nan old peasant of Normandy or Lorraine. He will expend more craft\nin disposing of an unsound horse than our diplomats would in\nformulating one of those protocols destined to preserve the\nbalance of power in Europe. He will haggle for half-an-hour to\ngain sixpence on a sheep which he wants to buy or to sell. In\nother respects, the peasant is generally good-natured, laborious,\nsober, full of good sense, and religious as well as moral, up to\na certain point; were it not for the public house. His life is\ncapable of easy adaptation to precepts of the Gospel.\n\n{62}\n\nIn order to lead him, you must first secure his confidence, take\nhold of him by his better side, or even by his weak side--which\nis, his vanity. Ought we not to become little with the little,\nthat we may save all?\n\nBut the best way of gaining that confidence is to do him a good\nturn. The peasant, undoubtedly, relishes kind words, but he likes\nkindly actions still better; and therein I agree with him.\n\nIn other respects, he is by no means exacting. A little\nforethought on his behalf, a little politeness, a salutation, a\nmanifestation of interest, or a trifling present to his child,\nwill be enough to open his heart, and to make him well-disposed.\n\nWhen he is bent on doing a thing, never oppose him directly,\notherwise he will become restive and obstinate; and if you\nattempt to lead him to the right, he will show a malicious\npleasure in going to the left. Beware still more of pushing him\nto extremes; for he may become obstreperous, spiteful, pitiless,\nand perchance atrocious. Take the peasant by the heart; for,\nafter all, it is the most healthy part of the community\ngenerally.\n\n{63}\n\n  _On the Way of doing some little Good to these Three\n  Classes of the People._\n\nSuch are the people, with whom we have to deal, and who need to\nbe restored to vital Christianity; seeing that they are,\nunfortunately, sadly deficient in practical religion, and their\nmanner of life is often far removed from evangelical morality.\nStill, let us beware of judging that the religious sentiment is\nextinct among them. The people in France are naturally Christian.\nThere is more religion in the little finger of the people than in\nthe superb bodies of our _demi-savants_.\n\nThe people, I say, are still capable of comprehending and of\nappreciating religion; and whenever their hearts are brought into\ncontact with the Gospel, they allow themselves to be penetrated,\nruled, elevated by its influence. Look at them in the presence of\na preacher who speaks to the souls of his hearers. Their\nattention is suddenly riveted, their countenances become\nanimated, their eyes glisten. They listen with an attention and\ngood-will, which one often wishes to see in the most pious\naudiences. They welcome without a frown the severest truths, and\neven applaud those passages which bear most against themselves.\n\nThose are, therefore, mistaken who think that religion has no\nlonger any influence over the masses. It is true that at first,\nowing to the prejudices and sarcasms of a past age, the cassock\nis a scarecrow to certain classes.\n{64}\nThey begin by suspecting. But when the same persons come to know\nthe priest well, when they are once won over by his address,\nthere is no man in the world--neither tribune, nor popular\norator, nor demagogue--who ever acquires so powerful a hold over\nthem. It is on that very account that those who distrust the\nclergy express their apprehensions, and say:--\"Their influence is\nexcessive; their preaching should be interdicted; otherwise they\nmay proceed to abuse it, and then we shall all be upset.\"\n\nThis ascendency is often obtained over the most stubborn and\nvicious. Condemned felons, despite their vices and their crimes,\nhave been amazed to find themselves amenable to its power. Those\nwho had been confided to the mission of Toulon, remarked:--\"How\nstrange it is that we who require armed soldiers to make us obey,\nnevertheless cheerfully do whatever the priests bid us!\" And when\nthe mission referred to terminated, no less than 2800 of the\nprisoners partook of the holy communion.\n\nNo, the people are not so much estranged from God and\nChristianity as is thought. We were made to understand each\nother; but evil passions have interposed between us and them.\nThey still possess good sense and an inward instinct which draws\nthem toward religion. They feel their need of it, because they\nfeel the need of hope. Religion belongs preeminently to them;\nthey are linked to it by their sympathies. Let us, moreover, do\nthem this justice: they, the people, did not give up religious\npractices till long after the other classes.\n{65}\nThey held out for more than a century. Errors and scandals\ndescended upon them from a sphere above them, yet they did not\nsuccumb. The churches were closed to them, their priests were\ndriven away, even their God was hunted, yet they did not yield.\nThey were pursued even into their cottages, their huts, and their\nworkshops with licentious books and pamphlets, and they resisted\nstill.\n\nAt length, religion was covered with ridicule, the mantle of\nderision was thrown over it, as it was over Christ, and they were\nbade in scorn to behold their religion! Then they gave way. ...\nBut the crash did not come till 1830, as the whole world can\ntestify. The people were assailed on their weak side, with taunts\nand sneers which they were the least capable of withstanding.\n\nBut though deficient in evangelical morality, religious sentiment\nhas still clung to them. As a pious and illustrious prelate,\n[Footnote 9] who knows the people well, who loves them, and is\nbeloved in return, remarked to the Emperor, on his way to\nMoulins:--\"I thank your Majesty for having understood that the\nFrench nation, left to its natural tendencies, preserves the\ncharacter of the most Christian nation, and that, in spite of\nmany rude shocks, the faith of their fathers is the first want of\ntheir hearts.\"\n\n    [Footnote 9: Monseigneur de Dreux-Br\u00e9z\u00e9, Bishop of Moulins.]\n\n{66}\n\nA dignitary of religion is always venerated by the people. They\nrun to see him and to solicit his benediction.\n\nThe visits of Monseigneur the late Archbishop of Paris to the\nfaubourgs, tenanted by a population regarded as the most\nirreligious and immoral of the capital, may be adduced in\nillustration of this statement. Crowds of men and women flocked\nto him, bent under his paternal hand, and held up their squalid\nand half naked children to receive his blessing. In like manner,\nthey brought him from all sides chaplets, images, and medals;\nwhile those who did not possess such pious articles brought\nhalfpence, that he might bless them; and these they afterward\npreserved as sacred relics.\n\nThe same soothing influence followed the devout prelate in the\nstreets, the workshops, and the public places. His words had a\nmagic effect everywhere among those hardened and redoubtable\ndenizens of the faubourgs.\n\nIt was in a quarter as poor in spiritual as in temporal things\nthat an immense crowd thronged to him, and like the Good\nShepherd--like the blessed Saviour--unwilling to send them away\nfasting, that is, without a few affectionate words, he mounted\nsome steps, and stood on a landing, which served him for a\npulpit. Among the crowd was a group of those men who are at\nperpetual war with society, keepers of smoking-dens, and worse\nplaces too; blacklegs, and setters-up of barricades. They looked\nat him without removing their caps, and with a sneer on their\nlips.\n\n{67}\n\nNo sooner had the prelate begun to speak than there was silence.\nAs he proceeded, one cap was doffed, then two or three more, and\nsoon all heads were bared, in accordance with the rules of French\npoliteness. When the sermon was ended, these men shouted louder\nthan the rest:--\"Vive Monseigneur! Vive la Religion!\"\n\nIt cannot be denied that the manners of the people are often\npainful in the extreme; but, then, they have so little to fall\nback upon, and are surrounded by so many temptations. Ignorance\nfrets them, debauchery degrades them, and, besides, having\nconstantly to struggle against the pinchings of want, it is not\nsurprising that they become, as it were, linked to a necessity\nwhich weighs upon them so heavily.\n\nEven we, with all our education, our science, the superior moral\natmosphere which we breathe,--are we always blameless? When the\npeople look above them, do they always find good examples in the\nhigher classes of society? What would you have them think when\nthey see men who ought to be patterns of virtue, when they see,\nto use their own expression, _respectable scoundrels_, with money\nin their hands and lying words on their lips, endeavoring to\nseduce their wives or their daughters?\n\n{68}\n\nNevertheless, they have not lost the courage of truthfulness: a\nrare thing nowadays. They have still moral energy enough to\ncondemn themselves, to condemn their own mode of life, and to\nadmit that they are wrong-doers. A notorious reprobate, after\nhearing a sermon, remarked to his companion: \"All right;\nreligion, after all, is not such a humbug as it has been\nrepresented.\" Scarcely any but the people retain such\ningenuousness. Elsewhere the truth is not relished, is not\nrecognized, is rather thrust aside as an intruder. Where, I\nshould like to know, among other classes, will you hear the\nadmission:--\"I am misled; I am in the wrong?\"\n\nThe people scarcely ever attempt to justify their failings by\nreasoning, or to reduce their vices to a system; for there exists\nin them a sense of justice and integrity which, when they are\ncalm, leads them to confess that they are unworthy to live.\n\nA man [Footnote 10] who was in the habit of mixing with the least\nmoral class in Paris, relates that he one day had the following\nconversation with the father of a family whose union had not been\nblessed by religion.\n\n    [Footnote 10: M. Gossin, _Manuel de la Soci\u00e9t\u00e9\n    de Saint-Fran\u00e7ois R\u00e9gis_, p. 143.]\n\n{69}\n\n\"I must apologize,\" he remarks, \"for reproducing this colloquy in\nall its original crudity; but I shall invent nothing; I shall\nmerely repeat what was actually said by both parties the first\ntime this _argmnentum ad hominem_ was employed.\n\n\"'I regret to find that we cannot understand each other. What!\nyou persist in maintaining that in seducing the woman at your\nside eighteen years ago you did nothing wrong?'\n\n\"'Nothing at all. I am an honest man; I have never stolen nor\ncommitted murder. I was rather gay when young; but there is no\nharm in that. As to the woman, I did not compel her. Why did she\nallow herself to be enticed?'\n\n\"'Let us speak on another subject. ... Are all these your\nchildren?'\n\n\"No, sir; we have another at home, a young lass named Seraphine.'\n\n\"'I am sorry you have not produced her. I should have been very\nglad to see her.'\n\n\"'It is very civil of you to say so, sir.'\n\n\"'Is she grown-up?'\n\n\"'Tolerably: she is twelve years old. She is getting on nicely\nwith the Sisters, which is very satisfactory. She sews well\nalready, and is a promising girl.'\n\n\"'Your boys here are comely and well-behaved, and do credit to\nthe mother's care.'\n\n{70}\n\n\"'Yes, it cannot be denied that what she does for them she does\nthoroughly. She keeps them well washed, and one hears nothing in\nthe morning but \"let me comb you; let me wash you.\" You should\nsee how she souses and scrubs them.'\n\n\"'Is Seraphine as comely as her brothers?'\n\n\"'Do you hear that, missis? What a goose you are; won't you\nanswer? Well, I will decide for both. On my honor, Seraphine is\nbetter looking than any in this house, though we have eighteen\nlodgers, who have a jolly lot of damsels among them of all\nshades.'\n\n\"'(Then looking fixedly at the man)--'In two or three years,\nSeraphine, who is still a child, will be a very attractive and\nmodest young woman, and she will be a comfort to you. ... But\nwhat would you say if a working-man, doing as you did by her\nmother, should seduce and dishonor the poor girl?'\n\n\"He sprang up almost beside himself, and said:--'What should I\nsay? I would say nothing; but I would murder the villain who\ndared to inveigle my daughter.'\n\n\"'You would be wrong; for the man, according to what you yourself\nhave just said, would be, in your opinion, a perfect man; for he\nwould neither have killed, nor stolen, nor forced your daughter.\nHe could only be charged with having wished to amuse himself a\nlittle; which you say is not a crime.\n\n\"Still beside himself with rage, he said:--'Nevertheless, I would\nmurder the wretch.'\n\n{71}\n\n\"'But, my friend, recall to mind what you have done yourself, and\nthen judge.'\n\n\"With tears in his eyes, and pressing the hand of his\ninterlocutor, he said:--'Forgive me, sir; I lied to myself when I\nsaid what I did. I was boasting just as many others of us do; but\nI am better than my stupid speeches.'\n\n\"I may add, as a characteristic trait of the human heart, that\nafter this dialogue, the father's emotion at seeing his faults\nplaced naked before him was so strong, that he was seized with a\nfever which lasted several days; that he subsequently thanked me\nmost warmly for having opened his eyes; and that I have now\nreason to believe in his complete and sincere conversion.\"\n\nAre we certain that we should find the same frankness and courage\nelsewhere?\n\nThe people, notwithstanding the bravado common to their class,\ndeplore their failings, and if intimate with them, you will often\nhear them expressing their regret in some such style as\nthis:--\"Pity me, for I am most wretched. Do you think it does not\nmake me uncomfortable to see my wife and children miserable, and\nto know that I am the cause of their misery? I have made good\nresolutions a thousand times over, and have broken them as often.\nMy passions and my habits have become so inveterate that I am\nunable to resist them.\" ... They are right; for left to\nthemselves they will never be able to persevere in well-doing.\n{72}\nThey need the aid of religion, which ought to be afforded them,\nand which is by no means an impracticable task. Let us hear no\nmore of those incessant excuses that nothing can be done with\nthem on that score.\n\nAway with all discouragement! Away with all despair! Those who\nindulge in such feelings do us infinite mischief. They are a most\ndangerous class in our midst; they will do nothing themselves,\nand will not allow others to do any thing. They try to prevent\nall good by ceaselessly repeating:--\"It will never succeed. ...\nThere are so many obstacles to be encountered. ... It is\nheadstrong to attempt it.\"\n\nThis is one of the most hideous sores of the age. Such men accuse\nothers, and yet never seem to reflect that despair is the\ngreatest possible crime in the sight of God.\n\nNothing can be done with the French people! What, then, have we\ncome to? We admit that something can be done for felons in the\nhulks, for the pagan Chinese, for American savages, for the\ncannibals of Oceania. We believe it, for we send them help and\nmissionaries; and yet nothing can be done for our France, for the\nnation beloved of God and His Church, which sheds its blood and\nspends its gold for the conversion of the infidels, and where so\nmany heroic virtues still exist!\n{73}\nIt is a calumny against France. In order to justify your own\nneglect, you slander your brethren, you expose your ignorance of\nyour country, you ignore the power of the Gospel and the virtue\nof the Cross. ... Know, then, that we may yet regenerate the\npeople. ... Yes, we can, and if we cannot we ought, for it is a\nsacred duty; and he who does not discharge his own duty in that\nrespect, has no right to give an opinion about the duty of\nothers.\n\nBut what are the means which should be employed to bring the\npeople nearer to the Gospel?\n\nReligion must first be exhibited to them as it really\nis--beautiful, good, and lovely; and then you may hold it up to\nthem as true, divine, and obligatory. You must first attract them\nby the senses and the imagination, by sentiment, and by the\nheart. The people like to be interested, touched, moved. They are\nfond of sentiment, of festivals, and shows. After a week spent in\nabsorbing material drudgery their poor souls require the breath\nof the Divine word to animate and cheer them. To them especially\nreligion should be \"glad tidings\"--should bring them mental\nrepose, refreshment, and peace. We should set out by making them\nto feel, to love, and to bless; instead of which we begin with\nreasoning, and end with the same. We have a mania, a rage for\nreasoning; but make the people love first, then you may reason,\nand will be understood.\n\n{74}\n\nI say that in order to make religion lovely in the eyes of the\npeople, you should exhibit it under its most attractive aspect.\nPoint out the good which it does on all sides, to orphans, to\nchildren and their parents, to the forsaken, to the people\nthemselves, their wives, their daughters, and their fathers.\nAppeal to their good sense and to their heart. Ask: \"Is it not\ntrue? I refer the decision to your own judgment.\" Say to the\npeople, but with overflowing affection:--\"My dear friends, do\nwhat you will, you will never find a better resource than\nreligion; religion will always be your best stay. ... When you\nhave spent your all, when the world will have nothing more to do\nwith you, when your bodies shall be worn out by old age and\nsickness, when from dread of you men will flee from you as from a\ncontagion, you will still find by your bedside a priest or a\nsister of charity to care for you and to bless you.\" [Footnote\n11]\n\n    [Footnote 11: _Le Manuel de Charit\u00e9_.]\n\nBut in order to make religion beloved, you must secure some love\nfor the priest also; for the people confound our cause with that\nof God. In their estimation, religion is what the priest is; and\nif they do not love the one, they will hardly entertain any love\nfor the other.\n\n{75}\n\nThe priest, then, should appear to them surrounded with a halo of\ncharity. He must make himself known; he will always gain by being\nknown. He has been depicted in such dark colors that a true view\nof him will effectually remove many prejudices, and give occasion\nto the oft-recurring remark:--\"Would that all priests were like\nthis one.\"\n\nBut if the people no longer come to us, we must go to them. We\ndon't mind going after the heathen of America and Asia; we cross\nthe seas to get at them; whereas there are in our midst--in our\nworkshops, our cottages, and throughout the country--tens of\nthousands, perhaps millions, of practical pagans. We know this\nwell, we confess it, we deplore it, and yet we hesitate to cross\nthe distance which separates us from them! Poor French souls! Can\nit, indeed, be that you are not of so much value as the souls of\nChinese?\n\nTo come to us the people must know the value, the necessity of\nreligion. But do they entertain any such idea? Surrounded as they\nhave been with so many passions and prejudices, is it surprising\nthat they are now insensible and mistrustful? Should we be better\nthan they if we had breathed the same pestiferous atmosphere? If\nthey are weak in the faith, it is our duty to pity them,\naccording to the apostolic injunction:--\"We that are strong ought\nto bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please\nourselves.\"\n\n{76}\n\nBut one replies:--\"I cannot go to the people, for I don't know\nwhat to say to them, how to address them.\" Well, I will tell you.\nThe best way of winning them, and others too, is to know how to\nlisten. That is one of the greatest talents in the direction of\nhuman affairs. The man to whom you have listened attentively will\nalways go away satisfied with himself, and with you also.\n\nYou do the people good by the bare fact of listening to them. Let\nthem, therefore, complain and talk nonsense to their hearts\ncontent. Overlook their errors, prejudices, outbursts of passion,\nand their profanities, too. Let them discharge all the gall which\nis in their hearts, and then they will be far more tractable.\nThey will tell you that they have no time to practise religious\nduties; that they have no need of religion; that it is enough to\nbe honest; that they don't believe in another life; that\nProvidence is unjust, bestowing all the comforts on one class,\nand all the miseries on the other. You may also expect to meet\nwith opprobious personalities. They will tell you that priests\nare just like other men; that they only work when they are paid,\nand so forth. Overlook all such remarks; they are enemies which\nare taking their departure, and you will have fewer to encounter.\nHear all, and be not disconcerted at any thing that you hear; on\nthe contrary, after such an explosion, redouble your kindness,\nassail the heart where your attack is least expected, sympathize\ncordially with them, give them a hearty shake of the hand, and on\nleaving say with candor:--\"Well, well, I perceive that there is\ngood in you. At all events, you are frank, and I like frankness.\nYou are not as bad as you think. I will call again to-morrow and\nhave another chat with you.\" In this way you may baffle the most\ndiabolical ill-will.\n\n{77}\n\nThen, when a friendly footing has been established, you may refer\nto the most salient objections and errors, and your words will be\nlike so many gleams of light. Who knows but that the individuals\nthemselves will not be the first to say:--\"I know what you are\nreferring to; but make yourself easy on that score, for _much\nthat I said the other day was in order to get rid of you_.\"\n\nOccasionally you will have to deal with a blunt and surly\ncharacter. Ask such an one, in an affectionate manner, after he\nhas expended his curses and oaths:--\"Is that all that you have to\nurge against religion and society? It is all you know, perhaps;\nbut I could tell you a great deal more. You have forgotten this\nand overlooked that,\" till at length he will be induced to\nsay:--\"I perceive that you are bantering me;\" and he will never\nafterward repeat his objections or his imprecations.\n\nBut, good God! why are we so much startled and horrified when we\nhear such profanities? It is the very way to increase the evil.\nAre we ignorant of what a man is who is vicious, or ignorant, or\npassionate?\n{78}\nDoes he always know the drift of his words? The man of the\npresent age has a special claim to the pardon which the Saviour\nprayed for on the cross. Besides, the profane man is not always\nso far from God as is thought; such an one is not the most\ndifficult of conversion. A very witty man, speaking of another\nwhose restoration to religion has since gladdened the Church,\nremarked:--\"I begin to have hope of him; for when one talks about\nChristianity to him he is annoyed, and blasphemes.\" We have the\nbesetting foible of readily believing those who tell us that they\nhave no faith. They must, indeed, regard us as most credulous\nsimpletons when they see us approach them with a cart-load of\nargument to prove to them what they already know as well as we\ndo, or what they would know if their poor hearts were a little\nless diseased.\n\nHere, again, we see that charity must initiate and direct our\nefforts. As to subsequent measures, if you would win over the\npeople, if you would acquire an irresistible influence over them,\nbusy yourself in what concerns them, and be unremitting in your\ncare of their poor. I will even go so far as to say, make a\nsemblance of taking this interest in them, and you will gain a\ngreat ascendency over them, your words will have a magic effect\nupon them, and they will be ready to overlook every thing else in\nyou, even the fact of your being a priest. ... This is a subject\ndeserving the serious consideration of those who have a hearty\ndesire to labor for the salvation of souls.\n\n{79}\n\nA priest enters a workshop, say, of gunsmiths. On perceiving the\ncassock, those blackened figures immediately become blacker\nstill. They purposely turn their backs, in order to give him no\ninducement to address them, and should he do so, the reply is\ngenerally a curt \"Yes, sir,\" uttered in as dry and morose a tone\nas possible. He walks through the establishment, and meets\neverywhere with a similar reception. Meanwhile, one of the\nworkmen whispers something to the foreman, which the priest\nfancies may be a suggestion for his immediate expulsion; but he\nis speedily reassured. What passed is transmitted from one group\nto another, and suddenly the countenances and hearts of all\nundergo a change. Instead of turning their backs, the workmen now\nmove sideways, as if to invite a colloquy as the visitor moves\nalong, and before he utters a word, they all stand ready, with\ncap in hand, to welcome his address. The men become at once\npolite, amiable, charming--Frenchmen, in fact, in the best\nmeaning of the word. The whispered sentence was the sacramental\nsaying of the poor:--\"This priest is kind to the unfortunate; he\nloves the people; he is not a proud man.\" O wondrous power of\ncharity! how little art thou understood? and yet thou canst thus\ntame even the most unruly! We hear much on all sides about the\nbest means of enlightening and reforming the people, and of\npreventing them from harboring envy and hatred. What is really\nrequired to that end is, as we have been endeavoring to show, the\nexercise of charity.\n\n{80}\n\nBut, further, would you acquire an unlimited sway over the\npeople? Would you exert a divine power over them? Become poor,\nand live in an humble dwelling. Herein I no longer insist on\nduties and obligations; I merely give the counsels of charity,\nand the reader may, if he pleases, skip over the next few lines.\nYes, unfurnish your house for the poor; send your silver plate,\nif you have any, to the money changer; send your fauteuils and\nyour couches to the fancy warehouse; give one of your mattresses\nto him who has none; send your clock to the pawnbroker, and let\nyour watch go and exchange places with it occasionally. Contend\nfor your left-off clothes and linen with your old housekeeper,\nwho will threaten to be seriously vexed if you attempt _to rob_\nher of her perquisites. Accustom yourself to privations. Have a\nroom like that of the Cardinal Cheverus: a small table and a\nchair constituted the furniture, a truck bedstead covered with a\nlight mattress formed his couch, and the most miserable room in\nhis palace was that which he chose to occupy. [Footnote 12]\n\n    [Footnote 12: _Vie du Cardinal_, p. 316.]\n\n{81}\n\nDo this, and then speak and act, and you will be listened to,\nbelieved, blessed, worshipped. Your heart will overflow with joy,\nso much so that you may be induced to say:--\"I fear lest I am\nreceiving my reward here, and that none awaits me in heaven.\"\n\nSuch voluntary poverty not only impresses the people, it\nexercises also a powerful influence on the highest intellects,\ntransforming and disposing them to acknowledge the truth.\n\nA person who had taken a prominent part in public affairs made\nthe following remarks after an interview with an eminently pious\nman:--\"What most impressed me was not his language, which,\nnevertheless, was powerful and keen; but it was his furniture,\nhis wretched pallet, his three rush chairs and rickety table--all\nwhich formed a most appropriate frame, so to speak, to his\nanchorite figure. I returned home saying:--'I have seen something\ndivine.'\" These are the ways of doing good which cost little, and\nare within the reach of every one.\n\nBut to return. As I was remarking, the priest must be known and\nloved, in order that, through him, religion may be known and\nloved. To attain this, let him first appear to the people as\n_full of grace_, and afterward as _full of truth_. Let love\nprecede truth, and then the latter will enter into the heart as\ninto its own domain.\n{82}\nArgument must be avoided, lest we drive the man of the people to\nthe miserable vanity of setting himself up as an enemy to\nChristianity. Above all, we must be on our guard against\nhumiliating any one; for it is very easy to reduce a man to\nsilence by a witticism, or to make him fall into inconsistency\nwhen he is not a Christian. With the reason of God it is always\npossible to nonplus the reasoning of men.\n\nIn a word, we should consult our hearts much, and our heads only\na little. Yes, let us love the poor people, who have been so\nlittle loved during their lives. Are not the people the most\nnotable part of our family? I mean of the priest's family; for we\nhave no other to love. It is true that we do not find its members\nvery amiable at first; but we soon get attached to them: we even\nbecome enthusiastic about them, and experience a sincere pleasure\nin associating with those dear _mauvais sujets_. Especially must\nwe bear with the weak, with the smoking flax and the bruised\nreed. We must have a kindly word for all: a smile for this one, a\nsalutation for that one, a picture for the little child of the\nmore depraved. That child will love us; the mother will like\nnothing better than to do the same, and perchance the father may\nfollow. ... In a word, we must bring into play all the\nassiduities and the holy wiles of charity.\n\n{83}\n\nI conceive that the blessed Saviour lived and acted in this way,\nin the midst of that wicked nation which put him to death. He\nbegan by doing good--_coepit facere_; and then He\ntaught--_docere_. He healed, He comforted, He pitied, He ate with\nsinners, He took the part of the guilty woman, He deplored the\nimpending ruin of His country.\n\nSeize every opportunity of mixing with the people and of showing\nthem kindness; even those who seem the least promising. Are not\nall a source of good to those who love?\n\nYou are a priest, and in walking along hear some one imitating\nthe cry of a raven. Such an occurrence is less frequent now, but\nit happens occasionally. You recognize a human voice, for you\nhear the accompanying remark:--\"It will be foul weather today,\nand some misfortune will befall us, for the ravens are on the\nwing.\" Take no notice of the ill-nature, and do not assume a\nproud or disdainful demeanor. It is vulgar to do so, and by no\nmeans Christian. The first chance comer could do no more. But,\nwith a gracious smile on your countenance, and fervent charity in\nyour heart, and, above all, avoiding anything like irony, accost\nthe man somewhat in this style:--\"So, my friend, it seems to\namuse you to cry like a raven. I am glad of it. There is so\nlittle enjoyment in the world that I am gratified to have given\nyou a moment's pleasure. Besides, you are quite right; our dress\nis as black as the raven. Nevertheless, if you knew us well, you\nwould discover that we are not as bad as our dress is black.\n{84}\nBut, what are you doing here?\" This will lead to conversation,\nexplanations will follow, a good understanding and mutual esteem\nwill be the result, and you will take leave of each other with a\nhearty shake of the hand. Thus, an embittered spirit may be\nrestored to calm and to a better judgment; you will have made a\nfriend yourself, and perhaps gained one over to God; for who can\ntell to what a favorable issue such simple beginnings may lead?\nGod be praised! many souls have been reclaimed to religion and to\nsociety by similar means.\n\nI must forewarn you, however, that success will not always attend\nyour efforts. You will often encounter obstacles, and even\nopprobrium; but what then? To a Christian, that will not be the\nworst feature in the case. Thereby, in the first place, you will\nlearn to be more a man; for one who has never known strife and\nconflict, victory and defeat, is not a man: he has not lived: he\ndoes not know himself, he does not know others; he is ignorant of\nthe science of life. He is an imperfect man: a man who has come\nshort of manhood: because he has never fallen back upon himself\nto discover the treasures which Providence has hidden there. He\nwill never be a man to initiate, or a man of action. It is only\nobstacles and contests which form useful as well as great men.\nThere is, somehow, a most unreasonable tendency in us always to\nbe sure of success; and yet our blessed Lord expired in anguish,\nHe. . . .\n\n{85}\n\nAs to jeers and sarcasms, you may fully reckon on them.\nOccasionally, moreover, you will be made to act the part of a\ndupe or ninny. So much the better; such experience will serve as\na useful counterpoise to our natural arrogance. Such things are\ntrifles compared with what our missionaries have to endure among\nthe infidels. They brave the sword, and we are afraid of needles'\npoints, and call our fear prudence. But why this dread of being\nderided? Can it be that we are ignorant of the French people? Are\nwe not aware that they must banter or ridicule some one, even\nthough it be a benefactor? What else can we expect? It is their\nnature; but they are sterling at bottom. Join, then, to all your\nother benevolent actions, that of allowing them occasionally to\nsneer at you. Should an opportunity offer, say to them, in the\nwords of St. Chrysostom:--\"I give you leave to turn me into\nridicule; I will forgive all the evil which you may say of me, on\nthe express condition that you become less wicked and less\nunhappy.\" Here, then, we have another means of touching the\nheart; for even revilers will find it difficult to help loving\none who thus throws himself upon their mercy, and sacrifices self\nfor their welfare.\n\n{86}\n\nA priest who was in the habit of visiting prisons, acting like a\nclever man, generally addressed the most obstinate of the\ninmates, and made it a point to enter into conversation with the\ngroups which appeared to be the most vicious and ill-disposed,\nknowing that if these were converted the rest would probably\nfollow. He was specially gracious to the more impious, so much so\nthat the remark was often made to him by one and another:--\"Don't\nyou remember that it was I who abused you the other day?\" \"Of\ncourse I do,\" he replied; \"but do you imagine that I care for\nabuse? On the contrary, I consider myself rather lucky when I get\na good round of it, and feel to like the abuser the more.\nBesides, I was fully convinced that you were better than your\nlanguage might lead one to believe.\" When he retired, the\nobservation was frequently made:--\"There's a priest unlike the\nrest. He acts up to his religion. I don't know but that I shall\nconfess to him;\" and the veiled intent was often carried into\npractice. Act in this way, and you will be loved more and more;\nand when men have learned to love the servant on earth, they may\nperchance learn to love his Master who is in heaven.\n\nThis done, you will have made a good beginning, and you must\npersevere by presenting religion under its most attractive\naspect. Generally, however, religion has been exhibited to the\npeople in a manner which imposes too great a restraint on\nindividual liberty.\n\n{87}\n\nWe should talk less about what religion forbids, and a little\nmore of the benefits which it imparts. Don't be always\nsaying:--\"Religion forbids this, and that, and the other thing;\"\nfor you will turn the people against it, and will be charged with\ninsisting on what is impossible. We Frenchmen are very children\nof Adam--and of Eve too. It is quite enough for a thing to be\nforbidden to induce us to do it. We have a ravenous taste for the\nforbidden fruit. For instance, a man curses and swears in your\npresence. Don't tell him that it is a sin, an abominable habit;\nfor he will then take a malicious pleasure in repeating his\nprofanity. Tell him rather that it is unseemly, that it is\nvulgar, that it shows bad taste, and he will abstain; for all,\neven the most depraved, wish to be thought well brought up. Let\nus therefore talk less of vices and more of virtues.\n\nLet us now suppose that you are brought in contact with a crafty\nand narrow-minded class of persons. Disconcert all their\nmanoeuvres by a straight forward and sincere address, and by a\nstill more frank demeanor, always combined with discretion. Then\nthere will be no gratification in deceiving you. Above all, never\nresort to underhand measures, and carefully avoid slander. The\npeople hate them: and God and His truth have no need of a secret\npolice.\n\n{88}\n\nWhen you have to deal with an egotistical and slanderous set,\nnever speak of egotism or slander; but scatter love broadcast\namong them, make the good chords of their hearts vibrate, filling\nthem with the holy palpitations of charity toward their brethren.\nThus slander and egotism will vanish, according to the saying of\nSt. Fran\u00e7ois de Sales:--\"When there is a fire in the house, every\nthing is thrown out through the windows.\"\n\nIn large cities, where the people are quick, bustling, and\npetulant, your speech should be lively, frank, bold, winning, and\nirresistible, that it may cause their hearts to thrill with\nemotion, and excite their interest by occasionally drawing a\nsmile from them. In small towns, on the contrary, be less bold\nand more circumspect, and let it be your first aim to acquire the\nconfidence of the people. Study your ground well, the prevailing\nprejudices, and even the local routine.\n\nNovelties often engender distrust. To gain currency for them, you\nmust secure the affections of your charge, and soar above petty\nideas and feelings. Be impassible and kind in the midst of the\npuerile interests which surround you. Be just, for the people\nlove justice: they even love a severe man who is just; how much\nmore, then, will they regard such an one if he is benevolent\nalso? Confidence once restored, go to the main point; stir up\nmen's consciences, appeal to the better part of human nature, and\nthrow routine overboard.\n{89}\nBring religion into close contact with those hearts which seem so\ncold, and you will witness things unknown to those who believe\nthese people to be indifferent or hostile, simply because, as is\noften the case, the people in small towns are not known. They are\nlooked at too near, they are judged by the exterior, and almost\nalways by those characteristics wherein they clash against\nourselves.\n\nThere is another reason why you should keep aloof from the\nnarrow-mindedness above mentioned. One frequents certain\nexcellent families of the locality who are devoutly inclined and\nare munificent to the Church. There is no harm in that; but it\noften happens that these worthy persons have rather contracted\nviews, and are not altogether exempt from petty passions. They\nare fond of hearing and repeating some ill-natured gossip, or the\nleast edifying news of the day; and as we are all apt to acquire\nsome of the ideas of those with whom we associate, one comes at\nlength to look at things with their eyes, and finally adopts some\nsuch style as this:--\"My parish is this, my parish wishes that;\"\nwhereas, if matters were closely analyzed, it would turn out that\nthe alleged wish of the parish is confined to a few of those\naforesaid pious souls.\n\n{90}\n\nThe next false step is to adopt a self-conceited course of action\nand of religious teaching, wholly irrespective of the Catholic\nChurch: nothing is thought of what may be done elsewhere.\n\"Success can only be achieved in such a way,\" becomes the\nexpression of this self-sufficiency; while those who fall into it\ngrow exclusive and empirical, and forget that, thanks be to God,\nthe ways of doing good are multifarious, and among them such as\nare suited to all dispositions and characters. Nay, it will be\nfortunate if this conceit does not assume to have done all that\ncould be done, and to deny the possibility of others doing better\nor more. Happy indeed is the man who can truly bear such a\ntestimony to himself! We war against prejudices: let us therefore\nbeware of entertaining any ourselves, for they are not the\neasiest enemies to be dislodged. Yes, we sometimes circumscribe,\nwe confine the beautiful Catholic religion within the small town\nwhere we ourselves reside; we recognize it there, and there only;\nit is taught as it should be only there; no good can be done\nexcept what is done there, whether that said small town be called\nQuimperl\u00e9 or Saint-Pierre-de-Chignac.\n\nAs regards the people in rural districts, who are dull, timid,\nsusceptible, and rather gross, you must strive to open out their\nsouls in order that religion may penetrate them. They are not\nover-exacting, not having been spoilt on that score, and a very\nlittle attention satisfies them.\n{91}\nA token of good-will, a salutation, an act of politeness, a\ntrifling gift bestowed on their children, will suffice to attract\nthem toward religion; for, generally speaking, when it is\nproperly presented to them, they are attached to it: they love\nit, they are proud of their Church and of their cur\u00e9, and are\nready to fight to prove that he is the most accomplished priest\nin the kingdom.\n\nThe peasant must never be provoked or pushed to extremes. When he\nresists, don't attack him in front, but turn the difficulty by\nlaying hold of one of his weaker points, some one of the good\nfibres of his heart; otherwise, the more you talk and threaten\nthe more he will consider it a duty not to listen to you. Never\nbe at variance with any one. The priest should have no enemies,\nand should not be content while he has any. I do not like to hear\nthe remark: \"That man is my enemy.\" Christ never said so; but He\ndid say:--\"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.\"\n\nOne of the most effectual ways of gaining over the peasant, as\nwell as the people generally, is to show great confidence in him,\nand to raise him in his own eyes. Don't be chary either of\nencouragement or commendation when he has but partially deserved\nthem. Suppose him to be all that you could wish; you will thereby\npave the way to impart some useful truths to him. Exalt his good\nqualities in his own estimation. He has fallen so low that you\nneed not be afraid of making him vain, or of raising him too\nhigh.\n{92}\nMay you rather succeed in exalting him to heaven! Did not Christ\ncome to raise the fallen? Carrying about with him, as man does,\nthe remembrance of his noble origin, he finds it very hard to\nresign himself to being a nonentity on the earth. For my part, I\nprefer a little vanity to the mania of envy and hatred.\n\nIn this respect also, timidity has led to our passive cooperation\nwith the malevolent. We have suffered the people to be too much\ndepressed. We have allowed them to be practically told that they\nare nothing and the rich every thing; that the lot of the\ndisinherited poor is toil, misery, and contempt; that of the\nrich, affluence, enjoyment, and honors. Rather raise the people\nby telling them, in the accents of truth, that they are great in\nthe estimation of God and the Gospel; that they have their share\nof dignity and honor, and have no cause to envy others.--\"My\nfriends, the rich have their advantages and you have yours. They\nhave their joys and so have you. Beware of envying them. A good\nworkman! why, such an one is the spoilt child of Providence. You\nare mistaken in thinking that wealth alone brings happiness. The\nrich happy, indeed! How can any one be led into such a delusion?\nYou know not what they have to suffer: their sufferings are\nfearful; and if I wished to discover the most poignant sorrows on\nearth, I should not knock at the hut or cottage to seek for them.\n{93}\nI should knock at the gates of those splendid mansions which\nadorn our squares. It is there, behind those triple curtains,\nthat I should find them with their claws of iron embedded in\nbroken hearts. ... My friends, with a stout heart and two strong\narms you may be as deserving, as happy, as great, as noble as any\none.\"\n\nBut this must not only be said; the people must be treated in\nsuch a manner that they may understand it. We must respect them\nmuch, in order that they may learn to respect themselves; showing\nthem always due deference: as, indeed, we should show all men. In\na word, we should practise, in our dealings with the people, all\nthe decorum and refined politeness of the drawing-room; with\ngreater sincerity, to boot.\n\nFor, indeed, they have more need of such treatment than others.\nAs manifested toward them it would be novel and efficacious;\nelsewhere it is generally vain and barren. This kind of\npoliteness charms and raises them out of that moral degradation,\nthe remembrance of which besets and weighs them down. So treated\nthey will cease to hate, to envy, or chafe; and will learn to\nlove, to be resigned, to have better aspirations: and, withal,\nthey will bless you.\n\n{94}\n\nThe best way to direct, to benefit, and to reclaim the people to\nreligion, is to develop the good sentiments which lie dormant in\nthe recesses of hearts; the foremost of which is charity, or the\nspirit of self-sacrifice.\n\nFrance is the home of charity: it exists among the high, the low,\nand the middle classes. The people are naturally sympathizing. As\nalready remarked, it is a pleasure to see their readiness to\noblige. The rich class are charitable; but are they more so than\nthe popular classes? I will not judge; I prefer saying to all:\n\"Well done; onward!\"\n\nIf you wish to inspire a man of the people with good-feeling,\ncalm, and a love of the truth, prevail on him to perform a\ncharitable act. Get him to comfort or to relieve some one, even\nthough you undertake to compensate him for so doing.\n\nWhen you meet with a hasty or passionate man, do not adopt the\nill-timed and absurd method of arguing with him. Is he capable of\nunderstanding you? He is drunk with rage, and such intoxication\nis more terrible and brutifying than that with wine. In\nattempting to argue with him, you are like the woman who\nsermonizes her husband on his return home with his reason drowned\nin liquor.\n\nRather take the man, and induce him to undertake an act of\ncharity. Talk to him about humanity, get him to help a\nfellow-creature, and after that you will hardly recognize him as\nthe same individual. That act of generosity will transform him;\nwill raise him in his own eyes, will give him holy joys, will\ndraw him toward God, will reconcile him to himself and to\nhumanity. God be praised for having brought down charity to our\nearth! It blesses him who receives, and him who bestows it.\n\n{95}\n\nThe people are specially capable of appreciating\ndisinterestedness, the spirit of self-devotion. It is their\nelement, and constitutes the largest share of their happiness.\n\nBut latterly they have been treated harshly and cruelly. Wants,\naspirations, and desires have been fostered in them which can\nnever be gratified, and their life has been poisoned thereby.\n\nMuch has been said about ameliorating their condition. So far\nwell; but that amelioration has been made to consist, in a great\nmeasure, of material enjoyments, of more to eat and drink: in\nfact, of feasting. In former times they lived on rye bread and\nwere not unhappy. Now they have wheaten bread, and meat with it,\nand even coffee; yet they complain and are not content. A want\nshould not be created among the people, unless there is a\ncertainty of its being amply and always provided for.\n\nThe people, however, are not always won over through their\nappetites; they prefer being led by the nobler instincts of the\nhuman heart. They like what is grand, what is costly, and what is\nobtained by great sacrifices. They have not, in any degree, the\n_bourgeois_ tastes, the _bourgeois_ petty calculations, the\n_bourgeois_ love of little comforts.\n{96}\nThey are much more disinterested than is thought. We must not\nattempt to gain them over by their material interests solely:\nthat would be to ruin them and ourselves also; but, allowing them\na due share of such inducements, we should rely mainly on their\ngenerosity and devotedness; for the people really admire great\nactions, great achievements, and the great characters who bear\nsway over the destinies of mankind. They entertain a species of\nworship for them; they refuse them no sacrifice. They attach\nthemselves to their good or evil fortune, and with them they are\nalways popular, always abiding.\n\nThe wars of the Revolution and of the Empire have weighed heavily\nupon France, have levied the tax of blood on many families;\nnevertheless, the name of the Emperor is still surrounded with a\nmagic halo. Moreover, in the east of France, the marches and\ncounter-marches of armies, with two successive invasions, have\ndevastated the country, overburdened the peasantry with imposts,\nand altogether ruined many of them. For all that, enter any\ncottage there, and you will find the picture of Napoleon by the\nside of the image of the Virgin. Even on the field of battle,\namid showers of shot and shell which decimated their ranks, the\nbrave children of the people exclaimed in death: \"Vive\nl'Empereur!\" Such are the French people at heart: if there is a\ntendency in them to seek their own interests, there is a tendency\nin them, equally strong, toward devotion and self-sacrifice.\n\n{97}\n\nIf, then, you would give them a right guidance, speak to them of\nother than petty ideas and material enjoyments: the more so,\nbecause, if you attempt to win them over by such low motives,\nthey will become insatiable; their appetites will get the mastery\nover them and plunge them into every kind of excess. Material\nenjoyments, indeed! It may be questioned whether France, with all\nits fertility, and all the resources of its advanced\ncivilization, would suffice, in that case, to furnish their first\nrepast.\n\nIn order to elevate, to control, and to satisfy this great\ncolossus, the people, you must be provided with something more\nthan human, something mysterious, surpassing human views and\nhuman reason; otherwise, you will continue powerless, and will\nnever bring about any moral improvement in the world.\n\nWhat has become of our great men, who trusted in man, who\nappealed to reason only, however exalted that reason may have\nbeen? Where is now their ascendency? Where the devotion which\nthey have kindled? Where are the masses who have clung to their\ngood or evil fortune? They fall, and their fall is regarded with\nindifference.\n{98}\nEven in prosperity, do they secure attachment? Do they acquire a\npermanent sway over the hearts of men? Not in the least; respect,\nand esteem, and even fidelity are meted out to them according to\ntheir characters, or according to the benefits which they are\njudged to have conferred on us. \"That man is worth so much: he\npossesses so much learning, so much talent, and may be so far\nprofitable to me. He only deserves so much consideration; I owe\nhim nothing more.\" That is his account fully made up. A halo of\nsuperhuman radiance should surround him who would govern the\nmasses--something divine, infinite, presaging immortality,\nheaven, hell, eternity ... otherwise, you will continue to have a\ndegraded, besotted, or savage people, a people who, in the\ncountry, are sunk in materialism, encroach on their neighbor's\nfield, or become the prey of usurers; who, when their asses are\ndiseased, will call in a veterinary surgeon, but will let their\nwives suffer rather than pay a doctor to attend them; who will\nweep over the break-down of one of their horses, but find no\ntears for the death of an aged parent;--a people who, in towns,\nfind all their pleasures and happiness in rioting and debauchery;\nwho are never well; who accuse others of their sufferings; and\nwho, after squandering their own substance, appeal to others,\nwith hate on their lips and a sword in their hands, saying: \"Now\nwe will share with you.\"\n\n{99}\n\nThe best means of reclaiming them to religion is, first, to get\npossession of their ideas, their instincts, and their good\nfeelings. We must enter in at their door, and make them go out by\nours. Bind, rivet religious thought to their thought--to those\nsentiments which cause their hearts to vibrate most, and then\nelevate their souls; wean them from the prepossessions of earth,\nfrom indifference and evil passions, and impart to them the joys\nof religion and charity.\n\nTake advantage of any occurrence, of any great event, of a fire,\na calamity, an illness. ... A fire reduces a poor family to ruin,\nAppeal for aid, placing yourself at the head of the movement, and\nthe result will surprise you. A laborer falls sick, and his\nfields remain untilled. Call his fellow-laborers together, and\nthey will be glad, they will forget their own interest, to come\nto the assistance of their suffering comrade. The people of\nFrance are not known; the spirit of self-sacrifice and generosity\nwhich is in them is not known. It may require some great occasion\nto develop it. Well, it is for you to bring it about.\n\nFor instance, you wish to restore a church or to build a new one,\nand require a considerable sum of money for the purpose. So much\nthe better; out of that requirement, you may draw treasures of\ncharity and religion.\n\n{100}\n\nEnter the pulpit and state your object; be like a father in the\nmidst of his family. Set the whole case before them, your fears,\nyour hopes, your need, and then add:--\"We rely upon you. You will\naid me, will you not? for I shall take the lead, and this will be\nour church.\"\n\nYou will then witness how the old French and Christian enthusiasm\nmay be rekindled in the hearts of the people, insomuch that you\nwill be tempted to ask:--\"Are we really in the nineteenth\ncentury? Are we not still in the middle ages?\" All will\ncooperate: the poor man will offer his two arms, work men will\ngive their day's labor, the agriculturists, if there be any, will\nsupply carts; this one will give money, another wood, a third\nstone; here windows, and there ornaments will be presented. Who\nknows but that some, who have never been accustomed to work, will\noffer to aid in the building? The little _bourgeois Voltairien_,\nwho has been known to speak evil of God and of His cur\u00e9, even he\nmay wish to have a hand in the erection of the church; so that\nall will thereby be brought nearer to God, nearer to the truth,\nand nearer salvation.\n\nSimilar things have occurred in every part of France; though few\nhave any conception of the existence of such a spirit among the\npeople. We have even heard venerable pastors exclaim on\nwitnessing it:--\"I have held this parish for twenty-five years\nwithout knowing of it. I could not have believed that my\nparishioners had so much good in them.\"\n\n{101}\n\nHaymon, abb\u00e9 of Saint-Pierre-sur-Dives, [Footnote 13] tells us\nthat in the middle ages, kings and mighty men of the time,\nrenowned and wealthy, nobles of both sexes, stooped so low as to\nlay hold of the ropes attached to the carts laden with provisions\nand materials for building churches, and drag them to the house\nof God. And what appeared most astonishing was, that, although\nowing to its size and heavy burden, the cart was sometimes drawn\nby upward of a thousand persons, so profound was the silence\nmaintained that nobody's voice was heard above a whisper, and the\neye alone could recognize particular individuals in that vast\nmultitude.\n\n    [Footnote 13: _Manuel de Charit\u00e9_, p. 244.]\n\nSimilar spectacles may be witnessed again. Scenes akin to them\noccur frequently in the least religious parts of the country, and\nunder the most adverse circumstances. One such took place during\nthe present year at the prison of St. P\u00e9lagie.\n\nTwo years ago, a new parish was formed in one of the most\nmiserable quarters of Paris, where the people were almost pagans.\nAn appeal was made to their charity, and five hundred francs, in\n_sous_, were collected after the sermon. Moreover, the poor\nbrought gifts of bread, and wished to help in the erection of the\nchurch.\n{102}\nTwo poor women brought the fire-wood which had been given to them\nby the _Bureau de Bienfaisance_. Many brought their rings and\nwedding presents. Working men clubbed together to ornament the\nchurch; and, what is better still, now that it is built, they go\nthere to pray. O people whom Christ loved, how little are ye\nknown! how little beloved! Ye would be saved. ...\n\nTo sum up: in order to benefit the people, they must be cared\nfor; they must be loved, must be made to love all that is good\nand great, and then you may lead them where you will. Charity is\npopular in France. Above all, succor the unfortunate; do so\nbountifully, and you will gain an ascendency which nothing will\nbe able to wrest from you. You may then defy the criticisms of\nwits, of the press, and of hate, and retain possession of the\nmost glorious sovereignty in the world--that over the hearts of\nmen.\n\nWe must insist, therefore, on the necessity of giving the people\na right direction; not the dry and cold direction of a\nmetaphysical argument, or of a sword's point, but a benevolent,\nsympathetic, devoted impulse. ... We have not busied ourselves as\nwe ought about the people, about their moral amelioration. We\nhave abandoned them to the intriguing and ambitious, and then we\ncomplain of and reproach them. Have they not as much reason to\nmurmur against and to upbraid us? The people are what they are\nmade.\n{103}\nThey are like those unclaimed lands which belong to the first\noccupant: they are good or bad according as they are well or\nbadly managed; and, looking at the manner in which the people\nhave progressed for the last ten or twelve years, it would hardly\nseem that they have been under the direction of honest men. What\nhave we done? What masters have we given them? To what school\nhave we sent them? To the school of the tavern, the\nliquor-vaults, and debauchery. And who have been the masters of\nthis great French people? Men over head and ears in debt,\nbankrupt tradesmen, briefless barristers, peddling\ntipstaffs--such have been their educators; and yet forsooth, we\nhave the face to complain that they have been badly brought up!\nWhat ought to surprise those who know the temptations and\nallurements to which they have been exposed, and the kind of\nliterature which has been put into their hands--no less than\neight millions of mischievous books every year by colportage\nalone--is, not that the people are so bad as they are, but that\nthey are no worse. Their nature must be good at bottom, and\nChristianity must still survive in their hearts, to have\nwithstood as they have done. I deplore the good which is ours no\nlonger; but I bless Providence for that which still subsists.\n\n{104}\n\nWe have, in truth, played into the hands of designing and\nmalevolent; for when we have seen them set on the people,\noverwhelming them under a crushing load of errors, prejudices,\nand antipathies, instead of taking part in the contest, we have\ntoo often stood aloof, and contented ourselves with the vain\ndeprecation, uttered perhaps with a smile of disdain:--\"They are\nbeing taught what is unreasonable and will not bear examination!\"\nVery true; but do the people examine? When a bad press has been\nactive, lavish, and amusing withal--when it has followed them\ninto their workshops, their cottages, in fact, everywhere--how\ndid we act? Why, we gave them some wearisome treatises which were\neither puerile or crammed full of metaphysics. Good heavens! when\nshall we be brought to understand that the people do not reflect,\nthat they look, listen, and then go forward? They need some one\nto guide them, and if honest men do not undertake the mission,\nthey will find others who will. ...\n\nTo aid us in affording that guidance, we should invoke the\ncooperation of the higher classes, inducing them to exert\nthemselves for the moral amelioration of the people. Here, again,\nwe have another rich mine to be worked which has been greatly\nneglected, but whereby all may be benefited. The people must be\nmorally reformed by the rich, and the rich by the people.\n\n{105}\n\nAlas! we often have to deplore the little effect which our words\nproduce on the higher classes. But why should you expect them to\nunderstand us? They have no longer the Christian sense; they do\nnot wish to endure, their aim is to enjoy themselves. They are\ndevoured by sensualism and hardened by egotism. To remedy this,\nbegin by dipping their souls in the waters of charity; teach them\nthe way of self-sacrifice and devotion; enlist them in efforts\nfor the moral benefit of the people, their children, and the\npoor, and then you will be listened to.\n\nThis kind of charity is readily understood in France. All of us\nhave some sort of pretension of wishing to do something for the\nmoral welfare of the people, even though we may not be strictly\nconsistent in our own morality. But the French mind is so logical\nthat it cannot play such a part for any length of time without\nbeing bettered thereby, were it only for shame's sake or out of\nself-respect. Something within will say:--\"Before attempting to\nreform others, I shall do well to reform myself.\" Then charity\nwill attract heavenly blessings, and the heart will open itself\nto the inspirations of the Gospel.\n\nIf, therefore, you wish to convert or reform a man, set him to\nreform one somewhat worse than himself. You will succeed much\nmore readily in that way than by argument.\n\nTake the case of a young man whose virtue is more than wavering,\nand the flights of whose imagination cause you anxiety. Set him\nat work to reform others, or to make the effort on some notorious\noffender.\n{106}\nHe will do his part wonderfully well; his own virtue will be\nstrengthened and confirmed thereby, and you will have given\nbeneficent scope to an exuberant vivacity which the youth himself\ndid not know how to utilize.\n\nIt is related that a president of the Society of Saint Vincent de\nPaul had reason to fear that some of its members failed to\ndischarge their Paschal obligations. There were, at the same\ntime, several poor families to be converted, and he committed the\ntask to the suspected defaulters. The result was that they were\nthe first to partake of the Holy Communion. The thing was simple\nenough: before leading others to the confessional, it was\nnecessary that they themselves should show them the way.\n\nEvery effort made by the higher classes to benefit those below\nthem, revives and sustains in the former the spirit of\ncompassion, of benevolence, and of self-sacrifice--the best\nsentiments of the human heart. It imparts life to them; for to\nlive is to feel, is to love, is to be loved, and to cause love in\nothers. To have sympathy with and fellow-feeling for the\npoor--that is to live; but to be wholly absorbed in business\nmatters, in advancing one's own fortune, or in concocting\nintrigues--that is not to live; rather it is to become brutish\nand to go to ruin. Nothing is more immoral and contrary to nature\nthan to be always taken up with self.\n{107}\nMoreover, the course which we are recommending tends to draw the\ndifferent classes closer together, to teach them to know and\nesteem each other, and to assuage mutual jealousies and\nantipathies. The people are fond of being thought of, of having\ninterest manifested toward them. Under such treatment they\nreadily yield, and are glad to be reconciled. They become even\nproud of the tokens of benevolence bestowed on them by some\nwealthy individual; it is a kind of safeguard to them against\nevil passions. They say to themselves:-\"We are loved and\nesteemed: let us by honest and Christian conduct continue to\ndeserve such consideration.\"\n\nFurther, it cannot be denied that there is a tendency in the\nspirit of the people to fancy themselves despised by the rich.\nEven suspicion on that point must be rendered impossible, for it\nmay lead to serious evils. The people are implacable on the\nsubject of contempt: they are even cruel, and they cannot pardon\nit, whatever else they may be ready to overlook. They forgive\nthose who deceive and those who rob and over-work them; but they\ndo not forgive those who despise them. To be despised is to them\nthe last indignity: and perhaps there is some reason in that\npopular instinct. It is surprising that our blessed Lord\ncomplained but once during His passion. ... He suffered, He died,\nwithout a murmur; but when the affront of contempt was inflicted\non Him, He complained, and uttered that speech which revealed a\nheart profoundly bruised:--\"If I have spoken evil, bear witness\nof the evil; but if well, why smitest thou me?\"\n\n{108}\n\nBut when the people meet with benevolence and cordiality among\nthe rich, jealousy and hate give way, and they may be heard to\nsay:--\"If all the rich were of that sort, they would be adored;\nwe should be ready to die for them.\" Moreover, they are led\nthereby to have more faith in God and in the reality of a\nProvidence.\n\nSome few years ago there lived an artisan's wife who was\nnotorious for her hatred toward society, toward the rich, and\neven toward God. She hated them with an implacable, a woman's\nhate. Her malignity was specially directed against the _rolls of\nsilk_ and _bundles of stuff_--so she designated the females of\nthe upper classes--and she was known to be in the habit of saying\nto her children:--\"I have brought you up for the democracy ... to\nhumble the rich and to reestablish equality; and if you do not\nbecome democrats, I will disown you.\"\n\nA priest commissioned a young marchioness, as virtuous as she was\naccomplished, to attend to this poor creature. She began by\nlistening with kindness to all her grievances and insults, and\neven allowed herself to be called a _coquine_. Nevertheless, by\ndint of patience, she soon succeeded in calming her embittered\nsoul.\n\n{109}\n\nOne day, the marchioness, who was about to absent herself for\nseveral weeks, went to bid farewell to her _prot\u00e9g\u00e9e_. She took\nher affectionately by the hand, and then, moved thereto\nspontaneously by her kind heart, and doubtless by the grace of\nGod also, cordially kissed her, saying, as she left:--\"I shall\nsoon see you again.\"\n\nThe poor woman was stunned with amazement, and moved even to\ntears, and forthwith went to the priest; but instead of first\nsaluting him, she began by exclaiming:--\"Is it possible? You will\nnot believe me; nevertheless it is true. She kissed me! .... Yes,\nthe lady marchioness kissed a miserable creature like me. ... Ah!\nI have frequently declared that there was no good God; now I say\nthere is, because that lady is one of His angels. I have said,\ntoo, that I would never confess; now you may confess me as often\nas you please.\" Since that time she has been an exemplary\nChristian.\n\nThe day after, the priest wrote as follows to the excellent lady\nwhom God had made the instrument of this good work:--\"You may,\nindeed, consider yourself happy. ... We priests are at great\npains to preach, and do not always succeed in converting our\nhearers; but you succeed with an embrace!\"\n\nOh, if women only knew! Oh, if they would, what good they might\ndo, what evil they might prevent! ....\n\n{110}\n\nMoreover, the existence of real virtue in a woman of the world\ndepends upon her coming out of self, and devoting herself\nassiduously to works of charity. ... For, you may rest assured of\nthis, that without self-denial on her part you will never be able\nto keep her in the right way. ... Take the case of a light,\nworldly, and gay woman--and there are many such; you will never\nacquire any influence over her except through the medium of\ncharity. She will make promises, but she will take care not to\nkeep them: you can never rely on her being faithful to them. It\nwill be vain for you to address her in the most conclusive\nspeeches, to ply her with refined and smart essays on good\nbreeding--in vain that you assail her foibles and waywardness\nwith irony and sarcasm--in vain that you hold up before her the\nterrors of death, hell, and eternity. She will find loopholes by\nwhich to elude all that, and to deceive herself. It will not\nprevent her in the least from being vain and excessively addicted\nto pleasure, from baring her shoulders immoderately, and from\ngoing a-begging for idolatrous incense in fashionable circles.\nBefore all, she must be made to feel, to love, to be loved, to\ndevote herself. Charity filling her soul will set fire to the\nhouse, and then every thing else will be thrown out of the\nwindow.\n\n{111}\n\nStrive, therefore, to enlist all--women, men, and even\nchildren--in searching out the distressed, and in the moral\nimprovement of the people. Make charity honorable; let there be\nbenevolent enterprises in your locality in which all can take\npart, so that there may not be a man or woman who has not his or\nher poor, or who is not engaged somehow in works of charity.\n\nThis is the case already in several towns in France, where a\nperson can scarcely decline being a member of some benevolent\nassociation without suffering a loss of respect. You must\novercome all repugnances on this subject, more especially that of\n_amour propre_. There are those who will raise the following\nobjection, which is by no means rare:--\"How can I, a man in my\nposition, a woman of my standing, busy myself about a set of\nbeggarly people like these?\" To such reply:--\"And why not? In the\ngreat cities, men the most eminent by fortune, talent, and\nreputation, do it. ... Even ladies who are f\u00eated and sought after\nin the world--the young and beautiful, countesses, marchionesses,\nand princesses--even such do not disdain the task. There are\nwomen in Paris, possessing every thing that heart can desire,\nwith a rental of from two hundred thousand to three hundred\nthousand francs, who deprive themselves of legitimate pleasures\nto occupy themselves in making clothes for the poor, visiting the\nmost wretched hovels, and nursing the indigent sick.\"\n{112}\nTell them all this with gentleness and kindness; make the grand\nladies of certain small towns--such as the wives of lawyers,\njudges, advocates, merchants, commission agents, and\nviscounts--ashamed of themselves. It will tend to wean them from\nthat spirit of contempt and sensualism, and that pride of shabby\nfinery, which consists in thinking one's self superior to a rival\nbecause she has had the signal honor of finding a better\ndressmaker. Tell them that, if they affect the fashions and\nusages of Paris, they would do well to imitate the charity, zeal,\nand devotion which are exercised there.\n\nTo cite but one instance, that of Donoso Cort\u00e8s, whom we may now\npraise, for God has just called him to Himself. He disappeared\nevery day from home at certain hours. No one knew where he went;\nbut it was afterward discovered that it was the time of his\nvisits to the poor. M. de Montalembert, who knew him well, tells\nus that he loved the poor passionately, but, withal, discreetly.\nIn fact, in order to benefit the people, that is how they must be\nloved. Thereby alone can you hope to succeed in restoring them to\nthe path of Gospel self-denial and self-sacrifice.\n\nBe on your guard, moreover, against another excuse often urged by\ncertain of the wealthier classes. They say:--\"But the people\ndistrust us; it is quite enough for us to attempt to lead them in\none way to make them determined to follow another.\"\n\n{113}\n\nThe people distrust the wealthy classes! If it be so, whose fault\nis it? Is it all theirs? They do not know those classes; they\nseldom see them except at a distance, and from a lower standing.\nTheir estimate of them is founded on slander; how, then, can they\nhave confidence in them? ... Their confidence must be won, it\nmust be raised by dint of benevolence, charity, and\nself-devotion, and the task is by no means impracticable. What!\nthe possessors of fortune, and talent, and a name, and yet unable\nto gain that confidence on the part of the people which a\nschoolmaster, a village lawyer, a tipstaff, a man without any\nintellectual or moral worth, is able to secure! Of what avail,\nthen, is it to spend so many long years in study? What does a\ngood education mean, and of what use is it? Surely a very false\nidea has been formed of education. It will soon be made to\nconsist in knowing how to train a horse, or to turn a compliment,\nor in instilling vanity into brains which need no addition of\nthat quality. Knowledge, talent, position, and birth are not\nbestowed on us for the benefit of self, but for the welfare of\nall; and it therefore behoves those who are endowed with a\ngreater capacity--who possess more knowledge, more time, more\ninfluence, and more heart than others--to share their advantages\nwith those who have less, or who have not the leisure to acquire\nthem.\n\n{114}\n\nThat the influence of which we are speaking may be secured is\nproved by the fact of its existence throughout France. There are\nparts of the country where the rich man is king and father of his\n_commune_; which then resembles one great family. There, the\ntenant of the cottage exchanges smiles with the proprietor of the\nmansion, and the joys and sorrows of both are warmly\nreciprocated. No important step is taken by those who are below\nwithout knowing first what those above them think of it. Under\nsuch circumstances, how many evils are avoided, how many quarrels\nadjusted, how many animosities appeased! Oh, what a glorious\nmission! How sad to reflect that it is not carried out\neverywhere! Nevertheless, strive to make it understood by\npersuasion. Make frequent appeals to the hearts of the rich, to\ntheir love of humanity. Invoke them to aid us in stopping the\nmisery at its source. Invoke their pity on the masses who toil\nand suffer beneath us; their pity for those poor children whose\nfathers devour their bread; pity on behalf of the aged who pine\nin cold and hunger; pity for the woman who spends her Sunday\nevenings in tears, expecting every moment to encounter the\nbrutality of a husband who reels home with his reason and heart\ndrowned in liquor. Appeal even to their sense of shame, and tell\nthem that, if it is right to protect animals, it is still more so\nto cherish human beings--that their words, coupled with a good\nexample, would be all-powerful to remedy these miseries--that it\nis the rich and great of the earth who sow good or evil in the\nhearts of men, and that if matters do not progress to their\nsatisfaction, they should begin by taking the blame to\nthemselves. ... Your efforts will be appreciated by many. ... You\nwill be blessed by all.\n\n{115}\n\nSuch are the French people; such, it appears to us, is the way to\ndo them good.\n\nIt is well to study books: it is indispensable; but it is not\nenough. We must also study the hearts, the minds, the manners of\nthose with whom we have to deal, otherwise our knowledge will be\nlike gold buried in the mountains of America. \"The good shepherd\nknows his sheep, and is known of them.\" Is that saying always\nrealized amongst ourselves?\n\nThere is one particular point, however, on which we must be\nthoroughly convinced, namely, that what sufficed in former times\nwill not suffice now. A great revolution has taken place among\nthe masses. A century ago, Christianity bore all away in its\nstrong current. Passions broke loose, no doubt; but sooner or\nlater all bowed before the Gospel. Nowadays, attempts are made to\njustify human weaknesses. Formerly, scarcely any other guidance\nwas permitted but that of the Christian pulpit. Now, there are\nplatforms everywhere, and within a century we have between\nfifteen and eighteen millions more who can read--from fifteen to\neighteen millions of men who may easily be led astray.\n\n{116}\n\nIt is a common saying that \"France is very sick.\" Then, I beseech\nyou not to treat it as if it were in perfect health. Would you\nmake an end of it?\n\n\"Christianity alone can save us,\" is another common remark. Very\ntrue; but it must be brought in contact with the masses, and if\nthey do not come to us, we must go to them. ... We have been\nunsuccessful in the ministry of the word; let us try the ministry\nof charity.\n\nIs it not the aim of Christian eloquence to win over the hearts\nof men, and to dispose them toward that which is good? Avail\nyourselves, then, of your position to carry out that object.  ...\nBe persuaded that the world is tired of fine speeches; it wants\nactions: and of that demand, who can complain? ... To study and\nto argue is to act well; to act and to love is better still.\n\nBut the most formidable argument against Christianity is\nthis:--\"We admit that Christianity has rendered great benefits to\nmankind by endowing the world with admirable institutions; but\nits sap is exhausted; its ascendency over the masses is lost.\"\nLet us prove that this is false, not by words merely, but by\ndeeds: by self-denial and self sacrifice. Those arguments are\nunanswerable.\n\n{117}\n\nBut in order to remedy the evils which beset us, we must not rely\non the systems of the learned or on human laws. Good heavens! if\nreasonings and codes of law sufficed to secure the peace and\nhappiness of a people, France ought to be the most prosperous\ncountry in the world.\n\nNeither must we rely upon the power of the sword. It is easily\nused; but, as De Maistre has said, to rely on force is like lying\ndown on the sail of a windmill to obtain quiet sleep. Then,\nagain, the adoption of force leads to the most terrible excesses.\nThose who invoke it know not what they do: they have never\nwitnessed civil war or barricades, they have never seen French\nblood flow in the streets, they have never heard the roar of\ncannon or the crash of grapeshot. . . . May God preserve us from\na recurrence of such experience! Rather by dint of persuasion, of\ndevotion, and of love, let us strive to reconcile all hearts, and\nmake France the foremost people in the world--the most Christian\nand divinely blessed nation.\n\n{118}\n\n    Chapter III.\n\n    The Order of a Sermon\n\n\n  The Exordium.\n  Divisions.\n  Proofs.\n  Are there many Unbelievers in France?\n  Manner of refuting Objections.\n\n\nAfter getting to know the people and to be known of them, to love\nthem and to be loved by them in return, the next step is to lead\nthem to the knowledge and love of God and His Gospel by means of\noral teaching. ... In carrying this out, use plain speech, and\naim straight at your object, which is to expound the truth\nproposed to be treated in such a way as shall cause it to be\nlistened to with interest. Let it be perceived at once what the\nsubject is, and what you intend to say. Sketch out your truth in\na few sententious words, clearly and emphatically enunciated.\n\nLet there be none of those vague and halting considerations which\ngive the speaker the air of a man who is blindfolded, and strikes\nat random,--none of those perplexing exordiums wherein every\nconceivable fancy is brought to bear upon a single idea, and\nwhich frequently elicit the remark:--\"What is he driving at? what\ntopic is he going to discuss?\"\n\n{119}\n\nLet the subject-matter be vigorously stated at the outset, so\nthat it may rivet the minds and engage the attention of the\naudience.\n\nGenerally speaking, at the commencement of a discourse, there is\nprofound silence, and all eyes are fixed on the preacher. Avail\nyourself of that opportunity to arrest the imagination of your\nhearers, to attract their attention, which you should maintain\nthroughout, and to withdraw their minds from the things of earth\nand from themselves, in order that they may live your life for\nthe space of half-an-hour.\n\nLet your onset be bold and vigorous, that your audience may catch\na glimpse of the strength of your position, your means of\ndefence, and the triumph of the truth which you are about to\nhandle. ... \"I prefer,\" says Montaigne, \"those discourses which\nlevel the first charge against the strongest doubt. I look for\ngood and solid reasons to come after.\"\n\nThis should be followed by a word of appeal to the heart, to\nrestrain its evil promptings--something genial and earnest,\ncalculated to open out the soul, and which, coupled with a simple\nand modest demeanor, shall at once bespeak the preacher as\nsincerely attached to his audience.\n{120}\nIf preaching on the duty of charity toward the poor, you might\nsay:--\"I come before you on the present occasion to plead a cause\nwhich will secure me against all adverse criticism, for I know\nyour charity. I have not to address you to-day in language of\ncensure or rebuke, but in words of encouragement and blessing.\"\n\nIf a severe truth is to be urged on the congregation, it might be\nintroduced thus:--\"You will permit me to declare the truth unto\nyou; for you love the truth. The people have never been hostile\nto it. ... You yourselves would not be satisfied with half\ntruths; you desire something better. Therefore I shall deem it my\nduty to tell you the whole truth with the freedom of an apostle,\nbut at the same time, with all Christian charity.\"\n\nIn a word, you should exhibit that gentle admixture of power and\nbenignity which so well befits him who speaks in the name of the\nMost High; exciting the love of your hearers as with the\ninfluence of a mother. Or, following therein the example of Saint\nPaul, being like one who serves, and not like one who rules;\ncondescending toward all; striving to withdraw them from the\nsorrows and passions of life, that you may lead them to the\ntruth, to virtue, and to heaven. ...\n\nOn great occasions it is usual to recite the _Ave Maria_ before\nthe sermon. It is a venerable and edifying practice which ought\nto be followed; but forbear invoking the Holy Spirit or the\nblessed Virgin unless you do it devoutly and sincerely.\n{121}\nIt is frequently otherwise: one appeals to heaven, and fixes his\neyes on the earth: another, instead of the posture of prayer,\nassumes the attitude of menace, and looks very much like a man\nwho demands your money or your life.\n\nThere should be order in the sermon, and the ideas should be\nlinked together, and should mutually support each other. But it\nshould not be laid down as an invariable rule always to follow\nthose categorical divisions which necessarily cut up a truth into\ntwo or three parts, these to be cut up again into two or three\nsections of truth, giving the speaker the air of a man who is\namusing himself with pulling a machine to pieces, and then\nputting it together again. The Fathers did not ordinarily follow\nthat course. Indeed all discourses cannot be so subdivided; for\nnot every subject will bear it without losing much of its\ninterest. ... Most sermons seem to be modelled on the same\npattern, so much so, that the hearer is disposed at the very\noutset to remark:--\"I have heard that already twenty times over,\nset forth just in the same way. What use is there in my listening\nto it again?\" This is one drawback, in addition to the\nconsideration that it is not prudent to take the audience into\nyour confidence as to the conclusion to which you intend to lead\nthem. ... Or another listener will say:--\"Alas! we are still at\nthe second subdivision of the first part.\n{122}\nWhat a long sermon it will be!\" He is seized with _ennui_, and\nthen farewell to all feeling of interest in the Divine word, and\nto all hope of any benefit to be derived from it.\n\nIt is preferable to have a range of ideas known to yourself\nalone, with intervening pauses. In that way you will carry the\nhearers along with you. They will listen, will be moved, will\nforget how time passes, and at the conclusion will not feel tired\nwith having followed you. It appears that the mania for\nsubdividing every thing is a complaint of long standing. La\nBruy\u00e8re has passed his judgment upon it; which, apart from\nexaggeration--the inseparable companion of criticism--is not\ninapplicable at the present day.\n\nSpeaking of preachers he says:--\"They hold three things to be of\nindispensable and geometrical necessity, and to deserve your\nadmiring attention. They will prove a certain proposition in the\nfirst part of their discourse, another in the second part, and an\nother in the third. Thus, you are to be convinced, first, of a\ncertain truth--that is their first point; then of a third\ntruth--which is their third point; so that the first reflection\nis to instruct you on one of the most fundamental principles of\nreligion; the second, on another not less so; and the third, on a\nthird and last principle, the most important of all, but which,\nnevertheless, must be postponed for lack of time to another\noccasion. Finally, in order to resume and sum up these divisions,\nand to form a plan. ...\n{123}\nWhat! you are ready to exclaim, more yet! And are these merely\nthe preliminaries to a discourse of forty-five minutes duration\nwhich is still to follow! Why, the more they attempt to digest\nand throw light upon the subject, the more they confuse me! I\nreadily believe you, for it is the most natural effect of that\nheap of ideas, which always turns upon one and the same thought,\nwith which they pitilessly burden the memory of their hearers. It\nwould seem, to witness their obstinate adherence to this\npractice, as if the grace of conversion was attached to these\npreposterous divisions. I heartily wish that they would pause in\ntheir impetuous course to take breath, and give a little\nbreathing-time to others. Vain discourses! Words thrown away! The\ntime of homilies exists no longer; our Basils and Chrysostoms\nwill fail to reclaim them; people will pass over into other\ndioceses to be beyond the reach of their voice and familiar\ninstructions: for men in general like set phrases and finely\nturned periods, admire what they don't understand, consider\nthemselves edified thereby, and rest satisfied with deciding\nbetween the first and second points of a discourse, or between\nthe last sermon and that which preceded it.\"\n\nDivision must not be sought for; it must present itself, and\nspring out of the subject which you are about to discuss, or the\nobject which you have in view.\n{124}\nFor instance, you intend to treat on deference to man's opinion.\nEstablish these two points:--1st. That there is no disgrace\nattached to the practice of religion; and 2nd. That even if there\nwere, in the estimation of some men, it is our bounden duty to\nbrave it.\n\nWhen a dogma of the faith is to be treated either before the\npeople or others, never propound the truth in a hypothetical\nform, which is fraught with danger. Thus, do not say:--\"Does the\nsoul die with the body or does it pass to another life?\" ... \"Is\nJesus Christ a mere man; or is he the Son of God?\" Always use the\naffirmative form:--\"The soul does not die with the body; the soul\nwill live for ever.\" ... \"Jesus Christ is the Son of God; he is\nGod Himself.\" Otherwise, you will seem to question those\nverities, and may give rise to doubts. Such was the result in the\ncause of an artisan, who remarked, after listening to a\nsermon:--\"For my part, I was quite sure that there was another\nlife; but I learn from what the preacher has stated to-day, that\nthere is something to be said against as well as in favor of the\ndoctrine.\"\n\nThe people like a strong, self-reliant, and fearless affirmative,\ndeclared boldly and sincerely in the name of God, which admits of\nno buts, or ifs, but which descends from on high, claiming the\nready assent of all without distinction.\n\n{125}\n\nDiscussion is not the way to teach Christianity. It must be fully\nunderstood that the truth of the Gospel is not the conclusion of\nan argument; that it depends neither on the talents of the\npreacher, not yet on the acceptance of the hearer; that all such\naccidents do not affect it in any way. Christianity must be\nexpounded just as it is; but in a noble and energetic manner,\nsuch as shall cause it to be readily understood and loved in\nspite of all opposition.\n\nNevertheless, in condescension to human infirmity, you may\noccasionally justify God, as the Divine word says, by pointing\nout the fitness of a Catholic truth; but this must be by the way\nonly. Resume quickly the high standing of a man who speaks in the\nname of God--_tanquam potestatem habens_--who is himself\ncontrolled by a truth which he cannot modify in the least degree.\nCall in frequently the aid of faith; prove, without stating that\nyou are going to prove; and, in order the better to combat men's\nerrors, confront human authority with the authority of God.\n\nMen will raise such objections as these:--\"But the Gospel itself\ndeclares. ... Those great men who are called the Fathers on\naccount of their piety and genius have said ... The Catholic\nChurch, armed with its infallible authority, says ... God Himself\nhas declared ... And as against these witnesses what is the word\nof a mere man to me? Moreover, I will not submit; I will not bow\ndown to human authority. Am not I a man as well as he? Am I not\nendowed with reason? He affirms, I deny; he denies, I affirm; my\nword is as good as his, even were he what is called a man of\ngenius.\n{126}\nGranted that genius commands respect--and I respect it when it\nyields to what is superior to it--but, as compared with the law\nof God, what is a man of genius? A poor pigmy, who labors and\ndrudges for forty years to acquire some traces of a superior\nmind; who more frequently possesses the _amour propre_ of a silly\nwoman; and who, while pretending to govern the world from his\nstudy, allows himself to be led by his own female domestic. For\nmy part, I require something better than that; a greater, a\nhigher authority, and one much more self-reliant.\"\n\nYou will best restrain and meet these objections by having God\nalways at your side. Entrench yourself behind the Divine\nauthority; efface the man and hold up God; impose silence on the\nearth and let Him speak, but with power and loving-kindness.\n\nUnhappily, we have not maintained this high standing. The Divine\nword has been brought down too much to a human level; it has been\nmade too much to reflect man's image. The incessant attacks of\nthe enemies of religion, and, it may be, our own scholastic\nstudies also, have inspired us with a combative, and querulous\nhumor. Christianity is now discussed, proved, philosophically\ndemonstrated. You constantly meet men who are going to _prove_\nthis to you, then to _prove_ that, and then again to _prove_\nsomething else. In God's name, don't repeat this so often, but do\nit a little better.\n\n{127}\n\nThese attempts to prove certain propositions generally result in\nobscuring and confounding them. A preacher states a truth; you\nunderstand and enjoy it. He demonstrates it; and you understand\nit less, and perchance begin to doubt it.\n\nSome years ago especially, we were seized with the malady of\ndogmatic conferences. Every one wished to hold conferences to\nprove the _reasonableness_ of Christianity. The epidemic has\nabated, but we are not wholly free from it. ... That there should\nstill be one or two of these conference-men in certain large\ntowns is all well enough; yet even that is to be regretted, for\nthe genus is an offshoot of the misfortune of the age, and is by\nno means apostolic. In order to treat Christianity in that way,\nextraordinary talent is required, together with a thorough\nknowledge of the dogmas of our religion, a knowledge equally\nprofound of the human heart, of philosophical systems and errors,\nand a mathematical precision of language.\n\nWe may rest assured that the control over antagonisms and\npassions, so as to preclude doubt or suspicion from creeping into\nthe mind, must always proceed from an elevated standing, and that\nmen possessing the necessary qualifications, or even some of them\nin a high degree, are extremely rare.\n\n{128}\n\nThis consideration has been sadly overlooked. Very soon we shall\nhave every one attempting to philosophize Christianity. There are\nscarcely any, down to the youngest priest, who does not take up\nthe most difficult dogmas, and who does not seek to do battle\nwith those who are styled \"unbelievers\"--that is the current\nword nowadays, because, as it would seem, the old term (infidel)\nhas been worn out by long usage, and, therefore, it has been\nthought necessary to create a new one.\n\nAll this is very deplorable. Until quite lately there was hardly\na discourse, addressed even to the people exclusively, which did\nnot contain passages intended for unbelievers, or tirades against\nunbelievers, or apostrophes to unbelievers. The believers who\nwere present were neglected for the sake of the unbelievers who\nwere absent.\n\nIt is not rare, indeed, to meet with men who call themselves\nunbelievers, who assert it, and who write themselves such; but\nwill you find men who are seriously unbelievers, and who do not\nfalter in their negations? A pious priest, who was frequently\ncalled upon to attend the sick in the higher classes of society\nin Paris, was once asked whether he often met with men who had\nceased to believe. He replied, good-naturedly:--\"Pray, don't\nallude to the subject. Though I have been long accustomed to\nminister to great sinners, I have never yet had the good fortune\nto lay my hand on one who was even a little unbelieving. As\nregards the faith, men in general are better than their words or\ntheir writing either.\"\n\n{129}\n\nAs has been well remarked:--\"The man who, even in all sincerity,\nsays: 'I don't believe,' often deceives himself. There is in the\ndepths of his heart a root of faith which never dies.\"\n\nReal unbelief cannot prevail in France. There is too much good\nsense, too much rectitude in the French mind, and too much moral\nbeauty in the Gospel, to render absolute unbelief possible.\n\nThese pretensions to unbelief are generally based on a little\nignorance combined with a large amount of feeble-mindedness; so\nthat when one tells you that he does not, that he cannot believe,\nyou should understand him to mean that he is weak and timid. Let\nus be on our guard against taking such men at their word, for we\nshould thereby show how little knowledge we possess of the human\nheart. A priest who was called in to attend a person who had\nspoken and written much against religion, put this question to\nhim:--\"When you wrote were you quite sure of your own unbelief?\"\nThe other replied, \"Alas! Monsieur l'Abb\u00e9,\" ... in a deprecating\ntone, which seemed clearly to imply:--\"How young you are, and how\nlittle you know of the human heart!\"\n\nNo; the question between the world and ourselves is not whether\nthe miracles and mysteries of Christianity are believed, but\nwhether the morality of the Gospel is practised.\n{130}\nThat is the real question at issue. So true is this, that\nscholars and honest men will not hesitate to say frankly:--\"The\nmatter is not one of argument; only retrench from your religion\nseveral small commandments of God and the Church, which we need\nnot specify, and then we will be on your side.\"\n\nThat is the secret of unbelief. It is not faith that is wanting,\nbut the courage to do what is right.\n\nHow, then, are we to get rid of those preachers who are always\ntaken up with unbelievers? How delivered from those endless\nsermons addressed to unbelievers? They do us much harm and very\nlittle good. The whole thing, besides being ill-judged, is a\nmistake. By incessantly speaking to men about unbelief, we may\nend in making them unbelievers; just as we may make a dolt of a\nman by dint of telling him that he has no sense. Besides, what a\nblow it is to Christianity to give the people to understand that\na notable portion of a great nation has seriously contested its\nDivine origin! Is not this to suggest the temptation that they\ntoo should become unbelievers, since, by so doing, they would be\nin so numerous and goodly a company? Instead of such a course,\nbegin by telling your audience--but in the accents of profound\nconviction--that there is not one unbeliever among them; that\nthey all have faith; that they believe as you do; that they are\nbetter than they judge themselves to be; that not every one who\nwishes it can become an unbeliever; that Jesus Christ is too\neminent in history and in the world to be regarded, in earnest,\nas a mere man: ... tell them this, and you will do them good,\nand, besides, you will be telling the truth.\n\n{131}\n\nThey all believe, but their faith is imperfect, wounded. So true\nis this, that Voltaire himself, as all the world knows, could not\nrid himself entirely of his faith, all Voltaire that he was. ...\nWhat! Voltaire, with all his wit, and, if you will, his genius,\nVoltaire, with his demon pride, his satanic hatred of Christ, his\nhalf century of blasphemies,--Voltaire, the head of the most\nredoubtable cohort of enemies that Christianity ever had,--even\nhe could not wholly divest himself of his belief; and yet it is\npretended that our pigmies of the nineteenth century, with their\nlimited knowledge and petty malice, are able to stifle their\nfaith when that giant of impiety was unable to strangle his in\nhis eagle's clutch! ...\n\nOnly a little reflection is needed to convince ourselves on this\npoint. For what is unbelief? It is the conviction that\nChristianity is false. Now, how can such a conviction be arrived\nat against eighteen centuries of genius and virtue, against the\nauthority of the Gospel, against Christ Himself? How can any man\nreasonably attain the position of being able to confront those\neminent men and facts, and say:--\"I am quite sure that you have\ndeceived the world ... you have lied?\"\n{132}\nIt is impossible. It may be said and written in a moment of\npassion; but such assurance is not, cannot be attained.\n\nWe shall, therefore, be acting truly as well as wisely in not\ndescanting so much about unbelievers. For, after all, of what use\nis it? For the most part, these alleged unbelievers are not\npresent to listen to you. Neither is that the worst feature in\nthe case. These kinds of sermons are by no means calculated to\nconvert them. Generally speaking, they show too little regard for\nthe _amour propre_ of such characters; who, as is well known, do\nnot pique themselves on their humility. If we would benefit them\nwe must pass quickly from the mind to the heart: that is their\nweak point. We must not keep ourselves so much on the defensive,\nbut carry the war into the enemy's country. Our tactics should be\nto do good abundantly to all men that we may save all, and then\nthere will be no doubt about their believing in the divinity of\nChristianity.\n\nAll the parts of a sermon need not be equally good and powerful.\nTwo or three more elaborate and striking passages will suffice to\nensure success; but those passages should be such as effectually\nto overthrow prejudices and errors, and should be conclusive\nagainst all gainsayers.\n\n{133}\n\nThere should also be intervals to break monotony--that\nstumbling-block of many sermons; to give the mind rest; to allow\ntime for the hearts of the audience to be penetrated by what has\nbeen said; to introduce familiar topics which do the soul so much\ngood; to soften the asperities of any great emotion; to bind up\nthe wounded; in a word, intervals for the preacher to become the\nfather after having represented the King, to attract the hearts\nafter having gained the minds of his hearers.\n\nIt is a mistake to aim at making every part of a sermon equally\npowerful and equally prominent. It is an attempt against Nature.\nMoreover, we should not aspire to adduce every available proof in\nsupport of a particular truth. One or two will suffice, and the\nstrongest is not always the most convincing to your audience.\nSelect those likely to produce the greatest impression, and\nforbear when that end is attained. The victory is yours, retain\nit, and do not expose yourself to a reverse.\n\nThere are men who do not think they have proved a thing until\nthey have brought together, pell-mell, all the known proofs in\nthe world. The consequence is that, after listening to one of\ntheir sermons, the question discussed appears more confused to\nyou than ever.\n\n{134}\n\nAs regards objections to be refuted, you should never adduce any\nbut such as are current in the locality where you are speaking;\nand it is dangerous to give them a too salient form, for you may\nthereby wound the faith of your audience. But the objection once\nstated, refute it at once in a few sharp and decisive words. Let\nyour reply be in language as prompt, striking, and decisive as\nthat of the objection. Avoid all circumlocution and hesitation in\nmeeting it. Show it no pity, but let it expire forth with in the\npresence of your audience. Let every word tell like the cut or\nthrust of a sword, or, at least, like the stroke of a mace which\nshall effectually silence the objection. You may then justify,\neasily, the blows which you have dealt: but strike first and\nexplain afterward; otherwise, never attempt to place an objection\nbefore the people. If, as is too often done, you begin by\nsaying:--\"Before refuting this objection, two principles must\nfirst be laid down,\" or, \"three reflections must be made,\" the\nminds of your hearers will go a wool-gathering; they will not\nlisten to your reflections; they will retain nothing of your\ndiscourse beyond the objection; you will have lost your time, and\nmay have done harm into the bargain.\n\nIn sermons to the people, the peroration should be energetic,\ncaptivating, fervent; not a fervor of the head or throat, but of\nthe soul, accompanying something to enlighten the minds of the\nhearers, to gain the assent of their hearts, to subdue their\npassions, and to electrify their spirits.\n\n{135}\n\nLet us be on our guard against those vapid perorations which are\nnothing more than the ending of a discourse which we are at a\nloss how otherwise to wind up. The audience must not be dismissed\nwith a wrong impression; therefore be more affectionate at the\nconclusion, the more severe the truths have been which you have\nenunciated. In a word, the peroration should be sympathetic and\nvibrating. It should comprise all the power, all the marrow, and\nall the energy of the sermon. It should contain some of those\nkeen thoughts, some of those proverbial phrases, which recur to\nthe mind again and again like the strains of a familiar song\nwhich we sing involuntarily,--or a single thought, which when\nonce entertained leads one to say:--\"Were I to live a hundred\nyears, I shall never forget it.\"\n\n{136}\n\n\n  Chapter IV.\n\n  The Sermon Should Be Popular.\n\n\n  What constitutes true Popularity?\n  Popularity in Words, in Thought, in Sentiment.\n  One of the most popular Sentiments in France is Patriotism.\n  Means to utilize that sentiment.\n  The Relationship between Popularity and Genius.\n  Demosthenes.\n  Saint John Chrysostom.\n  Daniel O'Connell.\n\n\nThe language of the Christian orator whose object is to make\nreligion known and loved, should possess the following\ncharacteristics:--\n\nIt should be, 1st, popular; 2dly, plain; 3dly, short.\n\nAll eloquence to be effectual must be popular. An orator is\nessentially the man for all, and is specially made for the\npeople. The people are the best judges of true eloquence, and are\nthemselves the best soil to be cultivated thereby. Cicero says\nthat \"the most infallible token of an orator is to be esteemed as\nsuch in the opinion of the people.\" He was so persuaded of this\nthat he remarks in another place:--\"I wish my eloquence to be\nrelished by the people.\"\n\n{137}\n\nThis is still more true as regards the Christian orator. He\nappeals to all: to the little, to the poor and the ignorant as\nwell as to the great, the wealthy, and the learned, and his\nspeech should be understood and enjoyed by all. He is not free to\ndeprive any one of the truth. All men are people before the\nGospel, and that Gospel speaks in unison with the souls of all.\nIt stoops to raise, to comfort, and to enlighten all. Hence the\ntruly popular preacher proclaims himself at the outset as no\nordinary orator, but one about to be powerful, and to rise into a\ngiant, before whom even the most learned will be obliged to bow,\nbecause his soul is linked with the Divine word, and with the\nhearts of the people.\n\nThis popularity of Christian discourses has become rare, more\nespecially in our towns. Instead of being satisfied with the\nlife, the sap of that Gospel which has moved the world, preachers\nhave deemed themselves obliged to call in the aid of philosophy,\nmetaphysics, and distorted phraseology and rhetoric. The\nexception has been taken for the rule. The Divine word has been\nbound, imprisoned in a terminology, which many do not understand.\nThe preacher speaks, but the man remains impassible and cold.\nPainful reflection! The word of God passes by and says nothing to\nthe mind, the soul, or even to the ears of the audience.\n\n{138}\n\nBut I hasten to observe that the popularity of a sermon does not\nconsist in using common, trivial, or vulgar language. The people\ndo not like such a style, and regard it as derogatory to their\nintelligence and dignity. They have much more tact than is\ngenerally supposed. They know perfectly well what befits each,\nand have an exquisite sense of propriety. The people wish their\npreacher to speak better than they do, and appreciate dignified\nlanguage. Hence, whenever they have to name any thing mean before\nyou, they are careful to preface it with the proverbial apology:\n\"saving your presence.\" In fine, the object of preaching being to\nelevate the people, the language adopted should be superior to\ntheirs. The style of speaking has an important bearing on the\nmorals of life.\n\nWe may, however, occasionally borrow some of their most striking\nand picturesque, and even some of their quaint expressions, put\nthem into a good framing, and make them the starting-point for a\nfelicitous sally or thought. They have then a powerful effect.\nThe people perceive thereby that you are acquainted with them,\nthat you must have visited among them, that you know their life,\ntheir toil, their sorrows, and even their foibles, and they will\nopen their hearts to you at once. They feel themselves to be on\nfamiliar ground, where they find, as it were, an old friend.\nThere is a strange instinct among the people which leads them to\nreason thus:--\"That man knows us, therefore he loves us;\"\nwhereupon they readily give you their confidence.\n\n{139}\n\nThen, again, it is not very difficult to maintain a style of\nspeaking at once dignified and popular. Look at the lady of\nfashion dealing with the petty tradesman, or even with a\nfish-woman--a character by no means celebrated for choice or\npolite expressions. The price of the article treated for is\ndiscussed, the bargain is struck, both parties come to a\nsatisfactory understanding, and the language of the woman of the\nworld has been sober throughout, and perfectly becoming. ...\n\nBut popular speech consists not so much in the expressions used\nas in the thoughts and sentiments conveyed thereby. We have\nalready remarked that the people have good sense, ready wit, and\nabove all a heart. ... We must lay hold of those points in them\nto effect an entry into their minds as well as their hearts,\nthereby preparing the way for religion to follow.\n\nThe people have a certain aggregate of ideas and thoughts, and\ntheir own way of apprehending and appreciating things. All this\nshould be studied, for it constitutes the best holdfast of\nhumanity. We should make ourselves of the people, as it were, in\ntheir mode of thought, joining thereto superior knowledge; study\nthose ideas which they do not adequately estimate, put them into\nexpressive and proverbial language such as they relish, and then\nengraft religious thought into their thoughts in order to\nelucidate and elevate them.\n\n{140}\n\nBut the people possess, above all, an inexpressible richness of\nsentiment, together with admirable instincts. These must be laid\nhold of, cultivated, and profoundly stirred, and then\nChristianity should be brought in and fused, so to speak, with\nthose good instincts and noble sentiments. Dive down to the\nbottom of the souls of the people ... touch the best chords of\ntheir hearts ... be inspired with their aspirations ... be\nanimated with their passions; I had almost said be agitated with\ntheir anger. Possess yourself of what is best in them, and return\nit to them in vivid expressions and glowing effusions of the\nsoul, that they may think, feel, will, as you do; that their\nthought may seem to have anticipated yours, while, at the same\ntime, you exercise sway over them. Then your sermon will be the\noutward expression of the best sentiments of the human heart,\nennobled by the Divine word. Such, we take it, is true\npopularity; such also is the real power of Christian eloquence.\n\nIn this way you may lead men onward to the highest speculations,\nand raise them even to heroism. You may then use the language of\nscholars, provided that you continue to be of the people in\nheart.\n\n{141}\n\nOne noble and powerful sentiment which should be cultivated--a\nsentiment which may be made to call forth the sublimest\naspirations and the most heroic transports--is patriotism. The\npeople love France, they love the glory of France, they love all\nthat concerns France. If, then, you wish to interest them, to\ninduce them to listen to you, to stir them up, to enlarge their\nhearts, speak well of France to them; dilate to them of their\nearthly country, and then you will find it much easier to raise\nthem to that country which is in heaven.\n\nAn admirable example of this was afforded by Monseigneur the\nArchbishop of Paris, during his visitations, and he produced one\nof those magic effects which seem hardly to belong to our times.\n\nThe venerable prelate visited a school of adults, consisting of\nabout four hundred youths, all in the flower of their age and the\nheyday of their passions. On taking his seat, the whole assembly\nintoned a harmonious and popular hymn, full of patriotic\nsentiments. The archbishop made this the starting-point of his\nlecture, and soon there was such a thunder of applause that the\nfloor of the hall shook, to say nothing of the ears of the\nspectators. The speaker himself must have been stunned, but he\nresumed with animation:--\n\n  \"Do you know, my children, why this magic word 'country'\n  electrifies your hearts? It is because one's native country is\n  the sacred home of man, of his duties and his privileges. It is\n  his life, his cradle, his tomb; it is every thing to him after\n  heaven, from whence he comes, and whither he must return; and\n  which is on that account the glorious country, the kingdom of\n  all righteousness, the fruition of all privileges, the\n  communion of all souls, of all happiness, of all good. Chaunt,\n  therefore, your earthly country, but be not forgetful of that\n  country which is beyond the skies.\n\n{142}\n\n  \"Yes, sing it, and love it well. It has need of all your filial\n  love and useful prowess. It has bled much; it still suffers.\n  Respect it, comfort it, for it is your mother. You are indebted\n  to it for birth, instruction, employment, and a livelihood. It\n  behoves you to show yourselves worthy of these benefits, to\n  merit them, to win them, and to preserve them. Young citizens,\n  be men! Young men, be Christians!\n\n  \"I recognize in your ardor the descendants of those warriors\n  who, on the approach of the enemy, gained the frontier at a\n  bound, and as one man. They were workmen when they left;\n  workmen less fortunate and educated than you are. They\n  returned, as you know, conquering heroes, or they fell covered\n  with glory.\n\n  \"Were the country again menaced, and an appeal made to your\n  courage, I should have no misgivings; for, hardly should I have\n  blessed the tricolored standard over your heads, than it would\n  take the eagle's flight and echo a reply by a brilliant\n  victory, either from the summits of the Alps or from the\n  borders of the Rhine.\"\n\n{143}\n\nWe must renounce all attempt[s] to describe the sensation which\nthis discourse elicited, and which it at the same time\nrestrained, that the speaker might not be interrupted. It broke\nout at last; the hurricane burst through all bounds, and then\nsuddenly subsided as if in remorse at its own violence. This\nintelligent silence seeming to say: \"Go on,\" the archbishop\nproceeded:--\n\n  \"I doubt not that you would easily triumph over the enemy: but\n  would you overcome yourselves also? would you subdue your\n  passions, calm your impetuosity, be Christians, be virtuous?\"\n  [Footnote 14]\n\n    [Footnote 14: _Visites Pastorales_, p. 136.]\n\n\"Yes, yes!\" exclaimed these noble youths. Their hearts were\ntouched, and they were ready for any sacrifice. The prelate then\nrapidly set forth the virtues which they ought to practise, the\ntemptations which they should avoid, the vices they should\nsubdue, and the passions which they should curb. Thereupon, the\nexplosion of enthusiasm was redoubled, showing that these brave\nyouths were not irretrievably wedded to their errors and foibles;\nfor though in reality undergoing a partial defeat, they applauded\nas if they had been the conquerors.\n\nWe repeat it: one of the best means to popularize religion among\nthe people is to speak always in favorable terms of their native\ncountry.\n\n{144}\n\nThere can be no doubt that deplorable excesses in the history of\nthe last seventy years have wounded the hearts of the clergy, and\nimparted a savor of bitterness and sarcasm to our language\nrespecting France. But it is wrong: one should always love one's\ncountry and one's times, though it may be a duty to combat their\nprejudices and their errors. On this subject I commend the words\nof one of our own statesmen, endeared both to religion and to his\ncountry:-- [Footnote 15]\n\n    [Footnote 15: M. de Falloux.]\n\n  \"Do not misunderstand what I am about to say; do not imagine\n  that I wish to unduly criticise the era in which we live. No;\n  my country and my contemporaries will find in me rather an\n  impassioned advocate then a prejudiced detractor. I love my\n  country and my time, for I cannot separate the one from the\n  other. I believe that one cannot be loved without the other. He\n  who does not acquiesce in the age in which he lives, its\n  responsibilities and its dangers, does not wholly love his\n  country: does not love his country except in times which either\n  exist no longer, or in those which have not yet come. To do\n  this, is to discourage, to lessen the power which we should\n  hold at its service. The age in which each of us lives is\n  simply the frame wherein God sets our duties; the career which\n  He opens to and imposes upon our faculties. To study one's age\n  is to search out what God desires and demands of us.\"\n\n{145}\n\nThen, again, we are bound to be just. If France has done wrong,\nhow much good has she not done; how much is she not still doing\nevery day! The words _Gesta Dei per Francos_ have not ceased to\nbe true as regards ourselves. Is not the blessed institution of\nthe _Propagation of the Faith_ the work of France? Is not, also,\nthe _Archiconfr\u00e9rie_ for the return of sinners to the paternal\nhome, the work of France? Is not the society of Saint Vincent de\nPaul likewise the work of France? That society numbers eight\nhundred confraternities throughout the world, and of these, five\nhundred are claimed by France. And wherever any good work is to\nbe wrought for the Church, is it not accomplished by the words,\nthe money, the prayers, and even by the sword of France? Surely,\nthe citizen of such a country, the child of such a fatherland,\nhas a right to speak well of his mother; more especially when the\nobject is to lead souls to virtue. Reawaken, then, the old French\nand Christian enthusiasm, filling all hearts with the sacred\nemotions of earthly patriotism, and with holy love for that\nbetter home which is eternal in the heavens.\n\nSuch is true popularity; such the power of speech. One is strong\nwhen he has on his side the reason and will of the multitude;\nwhen he has sympathy with humanity, and possesses the hearts of\nthe masses.\n{146}\nLet others say what they please: the many possess more mind than\none person, whoever he may be; and popular speech has more weight\nthan the speculations or fancies of a man of science, or even a\nman of genius.\n\nFurther, there is a sort of relationship between popularity and\ngenius, so that one cannot exist with out the other. For, what is\na man of genius? He is one who has learnt to seize the thoughts,\nthe aspirations, the wants of his own times, and has profoundly\ntraced them in brilliant, energetic, sympathetic pages; a man who\nastonishes and revivifies the age in which he lives, by telling\nit aright what it is, what it thinks, what it wants, and what it\nsuffers. Moreover, as has been remarked long ago, the finest\nconceptions of genius are always grasped by the people.\n\nOn the other hand, the most sublime pages are always popular. I\nshall cite but one example, which is familiar to all. ... The\nprophet Isaiah is describing the fall of the King of Babylon:--\n\n  \"How hath the oppressor ceased! ... The whole earth is at rest,\n  and is quiet; yea, the fir-trees rejoice at thee, and the\n  cedars of Lebanon, saying:--Since thou art laid down, no feller\n  is come up against us. Hell from beneath is moved for thee, to\n  meet thee at thy coming; it stirreth up the dead for thee, even\n  all the chief ones of the earth; it hath raised up from their\n  thrones all the kings of the nations. All they shall speak and\n  say unto thee: Art thou also become weak as we? art them become\n  like unto us?\n{147}\n  Thy pomp is brought down to the grave, and the noise of thy\n  viols; the worm is spread under thee, and the worms cover thee.\n  All the kings of the nations ... lie in glory ... but thou art\n  cast out of thy grave like an abominable branch, and as the\n  slain, thrust through with a sword, that go down to the stones\n  of the pit; as a carcase trodden under feet. How art thou\n  fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! For thou\n  hast said in thine heart, I will ascend unto heaven, I will\n  exalt my throne above the stars of God, I will also sit upon\n  the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north. ... I\n  will be like the Most High. Yet thou shalt be brought down to\n  hell, to the sides of the pit. They that see thee shall\n  narrowly look upon thee, and consider thee, saying:--Is this\n  the man that made the earth to tremble, that did shake\n  kingdoms, that made the world as a wilderness? ... Thou hast\n  destroyed thy land and slain thy people. The seed of evil-doers\n  shall never be renowned. Prepare slaughter for his children for\n  the iniquity of their fathers, that they do not rise nor\n  possess the land.\" (_Isaiah_ xiv. 4-21.)\n\nAs might be expected, all great orators have been popular; for\none cannot be truly an orator by one's own power or by dint of\nstudy; there must be, besides, a multitude to inspire you, and to\nstimulate you by their criticism and opposition.\n\n{148}\n\nDemosthenes, the greatest orator of ancient times, was\npre-eminently a popular orator, and that popularity was the chief\nelement of his glory. The people of Athens were all for him, for\nhe loved them and knew them thoroughly: knew their frivolity,\ntheir vanity, their generosity, and their happy impulses. He\ninvoked all that was great and good in the heart of man; not by\nvain declamations, but by energetic appeals to sentiments which\none would blush not to possess. He drew his inspirations from the\nnoblest patriotism, and his politics--a rare exception--had their\nsource in the deepest affections of his heart.\n\nHence it was that the people were so much attached to\nDemosthenes, and that he, on his part, could place such unbounded\nconfidence in them.\n\nAEschines had complained that Demosthenes had reproached him with\nbeing the host of Alexander. He answered him in these terms:--\"I\nreproach you with being the host of Alexander! I reproach you\nwith Alexander's friendship! How could you attain it? By what\nmeans? No, I cannot call you either the friend of Philip or the\nhost of Alexander; I am not so foolish. Are reapers and hirelings\ncalled the hosts of those who pay them? He is nothing, nothing of\nthe kind. First, a mercenary of Philip, he is now the mercenary\nof Alexander; that is what I and all our hearers call you. If you\ndoubt it, ask them ... or, rather, I will do it for you. Men of\nAthens, what, then, is your opinion? Is AEschines the host, or\nthe mercenary of Alexander? ... Do you hear their reply?\"\n\n{149}\n\nSo likewise Saint John Chrysostom, who was, perhaps, the most\npopular of orators. We do not find that he amused himself with\nvain speculations. He did not wander far and wide to hunt up\ntopics whereon to address his hearers, for they themselves\nsupplied all that he wanted. He found ample materials for his\npurpose in the depths of their minds and hearts, and under his\nmasterly treatment the simplest things acquired an accent of\neloquence which gratified and moved his audience, which the\npeople understood and the learned admired.\n\nSurrounded by his congregation, he seems like a father in the\nmidst of his family. He converses, he questions, he even\nconsults, and he always loves.\n\nIt was the custom in his time for the audience to applaud the\npreacher during the sermon. They did not spare him that\nmanifestation, and these are the terms in which he complains of\nit:--\n\n  \"Believe me--the more so because I would not say it were it not\n  true--that when you applaud my discourses, I am seized with a\n  certain infirmity, and feel quite contented and happy. ... But,\n  on returning home, I reflect that all fruit of my speaking is\n  lost through these applauses and commendations;\n{150}\n  and I say to myself: Of what avail is my labor if my hearers do\n  not profit thereby? I have even thought of making a rule\n  positively to forbid all applause, that you may listen to me in\n  silence, with proper decorum and reserve. ... I pray and\n  conjure you to suffer me to establish such a rule forthwith.\n  ... Let us now order that no hearer shall make any noise while\n  the preacher is speaking; and that if any one wishes to admire,\n  let it be by keeping silence. (Applause.) Why do you still\n  applaud me, even while I am making a law to prohibit the abuse?\n  Though you will not suffer me to speak to you on the subject,\n  nevertheless, let us enact the law, for it will be to our\n  advantage. ... However, I do not wish to be too rigorous, for\n  fear of appearing uncivil in your estimation; so that if you\n  find so much gratification in applauding, I shall not hinder\n  it; but I will suggest to you a much superior motive for\n  eliciting still greater applause on your part, namely, that you\n  carry away with you what you hear, and practise it.\"\n\nWhen condemned to his first exile, the people flocked round their\npastor, determined to proceed to extremities rather than let him\ndepart. He then addressed them the following touching farewell:--\n\n{151}\n\n  \"A violent tempest surrounds me on all sides; but I fear\n  nothing, because I stand on an immovable rock. The fury of the\n  waves cannot sink the vessel of Jesus Christ. Death cannot\n  terrify me; it would rather be a gain to me. Do I fear exile?\n  All the earth is the Lord's. Do I fear the loss of goods? Naked\n  I was born into the world, and naked I shall return. I despise\n  the scorn and the flattery of the world. I have no desire to\n  live but for your welfare.\"\n\nThe people remained with him eight days to defend him, and the\nholy pastor, in order to prevent an insurrection, escaped by a\nsecret door, and delivered himself up to his enemies. The Empress\n_Eudoxia_, however, was soon obliged to recall him. \"We shall\nlose the empire,\" said she, \"unless John is recalled.\"\n\nThen, again, O'Connell, that orator who acquired so wide an\ninfluence, how popular he was! But I shall let M. de Cormenin\ndescribe him:--\n\n  \"Look at O'Connell with his people--for they are truly his\n  people. He lives of their life, he smiles with their joys, he\n  bleeds with their wounds, he groans with their pains. He\n  transports them at his will from fear to hope, from slavery to\n  liberty, from the fact to the right, from the right to duty,\n  from supplication to invective, and from anger to mercy and\n  pity. He directs the people to kneel on the ground and pray,\n  and they all kneel and pray; to raise their faces to the skies,\n  and they raise them; to curse their tyrants, and they curse\n  them; to sing hymns to liberty, and they sing them; to bare\n  their heads and swear on the holy Gospels, and they uncover,\n  raise the hand, and swear; to sign petitions for the reform of\n  abuses, to unite their forces, to pardon their enemies, and\n  they sign, they forget, they embrace, they forgive.\n\n{152}\n\n  \"That which makes him incomparable among all the orators of\n  this or any other country, is that, without any premeditation,\n  and by impulse alone, by the sole force of his powerful and\n  triumphant nature, he enters wholly into his subject, and\n  appears to be more possessed by it than of himself. His heart\n  overflows; it goes by bounds, by transports, bringing into play\n  all its pulsations. Like a high-bred charger, suddenly pulled\n  back on its nervous and quivering haunches, even so can\n  O'Connell arrest himself in the unbridled course of his\n  harangues, turn short and resume them--such versatility,\n  spring, and vigor is there in his eloquence. You imagine at\n  first that he is staggering, and about to succumb under the\n  weight of the divinity which inwardly agitates him; but he\n  rises again with a halo on his brow, an eye full of flame, and\n  his voice, unlike that of a mortal, begins to resound in the\n  air, and to fill all space.\n\n  \"He is lyrical as a poet, and familiar even to playfulness. He\n  draws his audience to him, and then transfers them to the floor\n  of the theatre; or descends himself and mixes with the\n  spectators. He never allows the stage to be without speech or\n  action for a single moment.\n{153}\n  He distributes the parts to each. He himself sits as judge: he\n  arraigns and he condemns; the people ratify, upraise the hand,\n  and seem to believe that they are joining in a verdict. Some\n  times O'Connell adapts the interior drama of a family to the\n  external drama of political affairs. He calls up his aged\n  father, his ancestors and the ancestors of the people. ... He\n  disposes and extemporizes narratives, monologues, dialogues,\n  _propoeia_, interludes, and peripatetics. Knowing that the\n  Irish are both light-hearted and melancholy, that they are fond\n  of metaphor, flourish, and sarcasm, he stifles laughter with\n  tears, the grandiose by the grotesque. He attacks the House of\n  Lords, and, chasing them from their aristocratic lairs, tracks\n  them one by one like wild beasts. He is always popular, be his\n  speech grave, sublime, or jocular:--\n\n  \"'Ireland! oh, how that name alone sticks in the Saxon throat.\n  My friends, my heart and my mind are known to you, and I wish\n  you to understand this, that I have power enough to prevent\n  either Peel or Wellington from treading on the liberties of\n  Ireland. I have only to say this to them: We will entrench\n  ourselves behind the law and the constitution; but do not\n  attempt to put our patience to the test beyond bounds, for if\n  there is danger in exasperating cowards, there is a thousand\n  times more danger in exasperating those who are not.'\n  (Applause.)\n{154}\n  'I told you at the outset that I did not feel disposed to\n  speak: this is not a speech, it is history which I am making at\n  this moment. The people have placed unlimited confidence in me.\n  I might, perhaps, say with affected modesty that I do not\n  deserve it. I will be more frank. I believe that I do deserve\n  it.' (Applause: yes! yes!) 'Mine is a strange fortune. I\n  believe I am the only man, living or dead, who has enjoyed\n  uninterrupted confidence and popularity for forty years.\n\n  \"_A voice_.--May you enjoy them twice as long!\n\n  \"_O'C._--'That is impossible. Long before then, I shall be\n  summoned before my Maker to give an account of all the actions\n  of my public and private life.'\n\n  \"_A voice_.--'You have always done your duty!'\n\n  \"_O'C_.--May such be the judgment of the Most High!'\n  (Applause.) 'Kindly spare me these interruptions.' (Laughter.)\n  'Our first duty is to obey the law. Don't think that in giving\n  you this advice I intend that you should submit to unlawful\n  outrage. After all, violence is not what I fear--I who am alone\n  in the world.' (Cries of no, no, you are not alone!) 'Pardon\n  me, my friends, I am alone; for she for whom I might have\n  entertained fears, but whose courage would certainly never have\n  failed, has been taken from my affections.' (O'Connell\n  pronounced these last words with deep emotion, in which the\n  whole assembly seemed to participate. Several ladies present\n  raised their handkerchiefs to their eyes.)\n\n{155}\n\n  \"'Were they to put a gag in my mouth or handcuffs on my wrists,\n  I would still point out the safest and wisest course for you to\n  follow. I trust there will be no conflict: let us close our\n  ranks, shoulder to shoulder, let us rally round the\n  constitution, that Ireland may not be delivered over to her\n  enemies by the folly, the passions, or the treachery of her\n  children.' (Applause.)\"\n\nHe knows how to excite the laughter of his audience, and to\nenliven them with racy comparisons, which are sometimes, however,\nof a kind unsuited to Christian discourses.\n\n  \"There was formerly a fool in Kerry--a rare thing there. This\n  fool having discovered a hen's nest, waited till the hen had\n  quitted it, and then took the eggs and sucked them. After\n  sucking the first, the chicken which had been in the shell\n  began to cry out while descending the fool's throat. 'Ah, my\n  boy, said he, 'you speak too late.' (Laughter.) My friends, I\n  am not a fool; I know how to suck eggs. (Laughter.) Should\n  England now be disposed to tell me that she is ready to do us\n  justice, I would say to England as the Kerry fool said to the\n  chicken: My darling, you speak too late. (Laughter and\n  applause.)\"\n\n{156}\n\nHe then continued, in the most sublime and rapturous accents:--\n\n  \"In the presence of my God, and with the most profound feeling\n  of the responsibility attached to the solemn and arduous duties\n  which you Irishmen have twice imposed on me, I accept them,\n  relying not on my own strength, but on yours. The people of\n  Clare know that the only basis of liberty is religion. They\n  have triumphed because the voice raised in behalf of the\n  country was first uttered in prayer to God. Songs of liberty\n  are now heard throughout our green isle, their notes traverse\n  the hills, they fill the valleys, they murmur with the waves of\n  our rivers and streams, and respond in tones of thunder to the\n  echoes of the mountains. Ireland is free!\"\n\nOne may readily conceive the magic of this speech. I borrow once\nmore from the pen of M. de Cormenin.\n\n  \"Eloquence does not exercise all its power, its strong,\n  sympathetic, moving power, except upon the people. Look at\n  O'Connell, the grandest, perhaps the only orator of modern\n  times. How his thundering voice towers over and rules the waves\n  of the multitude! I am not an Irishman, I have never seen\n  O'Connell; I believe I should not understand him. Why, then, am\n  I moved by his discourses even when translated into a strange\n  tongue, discolored, stunted, and deprived of the charm of voice\n  and action more than with all I have ever heard in my own\n  country?\n{157}\n  It is because they are utterly unlike our jumbled, wordy\n  rhetoric; because it is true passion that inspires him: passion\n  which can and does say all that it has to say. It is, that he\n  draws me from the shore, that he whirls with me, and drags me\n  with him into his current. It is that he shudders, and I\n  shudder; that he utters cries from the depths of his soul which\n  ravish my soul; that he raises me on his wings and sustains me\n  in the sacred transports of liberty. Under the influence of his\n  sublime eloquence, I abhor, I detest with furious hatred, the\n  tyrants of that unfortunate country, just as if I were\n  O'Connell's fellow-citizen; and I seem to love green Ireland as\n  much as my own native land.\"\n\nHere we have an orator who should be constantly studied by all\nthose who wish to benefit the people.\n\nThere is a wide difference between such powerful speeches and\nthose dreary metaphysical sermons, those finely-spun phrases,\nthat quintessence of reasoning, so common amongst us. For, what\ndo we often take for an orator or preacher? ... One who wraps\nhimself in his own conceptions, and soars into sublime regions,\nwhile the poor audience is left on the plain below to gaze at him\nor not, to grow weary, to sleep or to chat, when they cannot\ndecently go away. And yet it is so easy to be popular in France.\nThe native mind is prompt and readily roused to the noblest\nsentiments.\n{158}\nMoreover, we are bound to do the higher classes this justice,\nthat they always tolerate and even admire the preacher who\naddresses the people. They mingle with the crowd to join in their\napplause, and, what is better, to profit by what they hear. Yes,\nstrange to say, under the influence of such eloquence, scholars\nand wits throw aside their arguments and their prejudices, and\nbecome one with the people--think, feel, and commend as they do.\n... There are two powerful ways of leading men: to take up with\nthe higher classes or to go to the masses. The latter appears the\nmore powerful nowadays, for opinion and strength always prevail\nwith those whose wills are feeble.\n\nWe must retrace our steps, then, and resume a popular style of\naddress, which, to use a homely comparison, consists simply in\nentering in by the door of the people, and making them go out by\nours; for to be truly popular is: to love the people ardently, to\nthrow our souls into theirs, to identify ourselves with them; to\nthink, feel, will, love, as they do; to rouse their instincts of\njustice, generosity, and pity; to fill their souls with the\nnoblest thoughts; to exalt with the breath of the Gospel their\nholiest aspirations, and to send these back to them in burning\nwords, in outbursts and sallies of the heart; and then, as with a\nback-stroke of the hand, to crush their errors and destroy their\nvices, and to lead them onward after you, while they shall\nbelieve that they are still leading the way; to abase them to the\nlowest depths, and then to raise them to heaven.\n{159}\nIn all this, making them to play so prominent a part that, after\nhearing you, they may almost be led to say with secret\nsatisfaction:--\"What an excellent sermon we have delivered!\" Then\nwill your words be invested with the two greatest powers in the\nworld: they will be the voice of the people and the voice of God.\n\n\n{160}\n\n    Chapter V.\n\n    The Sermon Should Be Plain.\n\n\n  An obscure Sermon is neither Christian nor French.\n  Abuse of philosophical Terms.\n  Philosophical Speculations not popular amongst us.\n  The French mind is clear and logical.\n  Plainness of Speech.\n  Plainness of Thought.\n  Starting from the Known to the Unknown.\n  Metaphors.\n  Similes.\n  Parables.\n  Facts.\n  P\u00e8re Lejeune.\n  M. l'Abb\u00e9 Ledreuil.\n\n\nThe sermon should be plain. ...\n\nThis truth has been partially demonstrated in the course of the\nforegoing remarks. It follows, moreover, as a consequence from\nthe nature and design of the Gospel. The religious discourse\nwhich is not plain is neither Christian nor French.\n\nThe Divine word should be understood by all, even by the poor\nwoman who crouches into a corner of the church; for she too has a\nsoul to save, and her soul is as precious in the sight of God as\nthe soul of a rich or learned man: perhaps more.\n\nThis is one of the glories of Christianity. Human lore is only\nwithin the reach of those who are able to comprehend it, or who\nhave money enough to pay for it.\n{161}\nThe word of God is for all; and none can be deprived of it, as\nfar as the preacher is concerned, without a grave dereliction of\nduty on his part. Severe censure is passed upon those professors\nwho, to further their own ambitious views, take great pains with\nsome of their pupils and neglect others. This is called a crying\ninjustice, plundering the parents, and so forth. But the matter\nunder consideration involves something far more serious than a\npecuniary robbery.\n\nWe are all bound to preach the Gospel. Now, the Gospel is\nremarkably plain. When it was first announced, or while the facts\nwhich it narrates were extant or palpable, it must have been\nsurpassingly so. Hence it is not surprising that the multitude\nupon whom our blessed Lord had been pouring forth the torrents of\nHis Divine eloquence, exclaimed:--\"Never man spake like this\nman!\"\n\nFurther: he who does not use plain speech does not speak French;\nfor the French language is naturally plain, limpid, and simple,\ninsomuch that obscure speech is not really French: it is\nTeutonic, a jargon, or a patois; but it is by no means the\nlanguage of the great Frank people.\n\nAll our most celebrated and popular writers and orators had a\nclear and impressive style. Their weakest passages are those\nwhich are most obscure.\n{162}\nVoltaire possessed this perspicuity in a high degree; and it was\npartly on that account that he acquired so much influence and\npopularized so many errors. His speech was true French, both in\nexpression and conception; but there was no heart in it. He had\nperfectly mastered his own tongue, and had equally learned to\nknow the people with whom he had to deal. He who does not use\nplain speech proves that he possesses neither a knowledge of men\nnor a knowledge of the Gospel; nor even of his primary duties.\n\nBut it will be said:--Is it not occasionally allowable that one\nshould clothe his thoughts in language above the common, in order\nthereby to raise religion and the preacher in the eyes of the\npeople, who admire what they do not understand?\n\nI do not object, if you believe that any good is to be done in\nthat way, and if you feel incapable of exciting interest by a\nsimple exposition of the beauties of Christianity. But I tell you\nthat the idea savors strongly of charlatanism, and that\nChristianity has no need of such an auxiliary. Whenever such a\ncourse is adopted, it should be regarded as a tolerated\nexception; but on this point, also, the exception has too\nfrequently been taken for the rule.\n\nNowadays, the Gospel is almost entirely overlooked, there are so\nmany other matters to be attended to. We must needs discuss and\nargue, and treat all kinds of philosophical and humanitarian\nquestions.\n{163}\nHence a great part of our time is taken up with talking\nphilosophy to pious men and women,--and after what fashion? The\npulpit resounds with such words as these: rationalism,\nphilosophism, Protestantism, materialism, pantheism, socialism;\nand it will be lucky if all this does not ultimately get mixed up\nwith fetishism, anthropormorphism, Vishnooism, Buddhism, Kantism,\nHegelism, etc. No wonder that a woman of fashion once exclaimed,\nin a fit of petulance:--\"The Lord deliver us from these preachers\nof _isms!_\"\n\nI repeat, it is all well enough that a few eminent men should\ntreat such questions before select audiences; but now every one\nseems bent on talking philosophy, or on philosophizing about\nevery thing. We have the philosophy of theology, the philosophy\nof the sacraments, the philosophy of the liturgy; and to what\ndoes it all tend? To prove that God might have occupied a\nprominent place among the thinkers of these times: which would be\nproving very little in God's favor.\n\nThere has, indeed, been quite a mania to make philosophy about\nevery thing. We have heard a treatise on the philosophy of the\nhand-grenade. As a malicious wag once remarked:--\"We shall soon\nhave the philosophy of boots and shoes.\"\n\nHence it is that the ignorance respecting religion everywhere\nprevailing, among high and low, even among those who constantly\nhear sermons, is truly deplorable.\n\n{164}\n\nSociety in general is much less instructed in matters of\nreligion, and even in philosophical questions, than is usually\nsupposed; for religion is no longer taught. We demonstrate,\nargue, philosophize, but we do not evangelize. ... There is so\nmuch ignorance among men, otherwise well-informed, on the subject\nof religion, that they would certainly be deemed unfit for\nconfirmation even in a country district.\n\nNeither is the community more proficient in philosophical than in\nreligious questions; and much less attention is bestowed upon\nthem than is imagined. We meet with certain systems in special\nbooks, or among a particular class of persons, and we may think\nthat those systems are about to make a great stir in the world.\nBut do the masses trouble themselves about them? For the most\npart, even intelligent men hardly know what to say when referred\nto on such subjects.\n\nSome years ago, a preacher delivered several discourses in one of\nthe principal towns of France on the subject of rationalism. He\ndecried it in good set terms, and was judged to have spoken very\nably. But the wife of a councillor in the Court of Appeal, tired\nof hearing so much about rationalism without being able to make\nout what it was, asked her husband, who was a great admirer of\nthe discourses, to explain to her what rationalism meant.\n{165}\nThe husband stammered out a few words in reply, but was obliged\nat last to say:--\"Sincerely, I know nothing about it; but inquire\nof M. le Cur\u00e9, for he ought to be able to give you the\ninformation.\"\n\nInstead of dragging all these systems into the pulpit, it would\nhave been far better to leave them immured in books and in the\nschools. They are not dangerous in France while restricted to the\nformulae in which they were originally conceived, because\nphilosophical speculations are by no means popular amongst us.\nThe French mind is too precise and active to be taken up with\nsuch like dreams and crude systems.\n\nA proof of this is afforded by the old Chamber of Deputies. ...\nWhen a speaker was practical, and entered into the gist of the\nquestion in debate, there was profound silence; but if he\nattempted lofty flights, and soared into the region of\nphilosophical speculations, the attention of the hearers flagged,\nand a great uproar ensued, insomuch that the luckless orator was\nfrequently driven to call upon the President to enforce silence\nand order; who, on his part, reiterated that he could not\ninterfere. ... Altogether such scenes presented a curious study.\n\nGenerally speaking, the Frenchman is essentially a practical man.\n\n{166}\n\nIt is true that ever and anon we pretend to great depth; but the\nmalady is momentary and does not last long. We are, in fact, like\ncertain eminent men who affect a speciality to which they have no\njust claim, and who consider themselves more honored by a\ncompliment for an acquirement which they do not possess, than by\nany which may be paid them for a talent for which they are really\nconspicuous.\n\nIn combating this tendency and these systems, we must be on our\nguard against assailing them with hazy tirades or dull\nmetaphysics. We should drag them into the full light of the\nGospel, and dissect them by translating them into plain French,\nand then they will soon disappear altogether. We must further\nbear in mind that the truth, and especially evangelical truth, is\nonly rightly apprehended by the heart; whereas there is a general\ndisposition amongst us to be always reasoning. Are we not aware\nthat bare reason is foolishly vain, dishonest, stern, and\nsometimes pitiless, and that to be constantly appealing to its\nauthority is to lose our time, and to engender the most\ndeplorable ignorance in matters of religion?\n\nThe people are very fond of understanding what is addressed to\nthem, for it raises them in their own eyes, and is, moreover, a\nreal gratification to them. Therein they are active, whereas when\nmerely astounded they are simply passive; to say nothing of the\nadditional fact that they go away as ignorant as they came.\n\n{167}\n\nA preacher who had been specially appointed to deliver a course\nof sermons in one of our towns, was accosted while walking out by\na poor woman, upon whom his presence seemed to produce a lively\nimpression of joy, which was forthwith manifested in these\nwords:--\"How delighted I am to have met you! I must tell you that\nI attend your sermons and understand them. Yes, believe me, even\nI understand your sermons. Every body says that you are a\n_savant_, but for my part I don't believe it; because, whenever\nour rector or his curates preach, I don't understand anything\nthey say; whereas when you preach I understand all. If you were a\n_savant_, an ignoramus like me would not be able to understand\nyou.\" ...\n\nWe must retrace our steps, then, and return to a clear, plain,\nsimple, and vivifying exposition of the Gospel; for when religion\nis set forth in that way it is always attractive. We may have to\nstudy much to attain it, but when once Christianity is rightly\nunderstood, and we get thoroughly to know those with whom we have\nto do, we shall find it possible to acquire an influence over\ntheir minds and hearts, and easy to adapt our style to the\nintelligence of all. You should see the working classes when\naddressed by one of our great preachers: their countenances\nbrighten, their eyes glisten, their bosoms glow. They understand,\nthey are moved, they applaud.\n\n{168}\n\nTo attain this plainness--speech being the vehicle of\nthought--words should never be used which are not generally\nunderstood. There are terms in language which are common to the\nliterary and non-literary; only such should be adopted, and all\nscientific, philosophical, technical, theological, and even\ndevotional terminology should be discarded. Our age is not strong\nin spiritual matters: they speak a language which it does not\neven care to learn, for it does not feel the need of it.\n\nUse none of those set phrases, those trite expressions, which\nfollow one after another in all sermonizers for the last half\ncentury. They form a threadbare language which no longer conveys\nany meaning, and which is quite unfit for the transmission of\nthought. Drive them from your pen and lips; try to acquire a\ndisgust, a hatred for them: they are more unintelligible than\neither Latin or Greek. You would do well to abstain entirely from\nperusing such sermonizers, because one unwittingly picks up their\nhackneyed phraseology; which will recur to you when you are at a\nloss what else to say. Moreover, they prevent you from being\nnatural. ...\n\nIt is desirable, doubtless, that you should read Bourdaloue for\ndoctrine, Bossuet for touch and for the sublime, Massillon for\nstyle and form; but let that suffice.\n{169}\nThen read the Scriptures, the Fathers, books of devotion, and\nsuch other works as will make you acquainted with the wants and\ntendencies of the age, and teach you how to combat its passions\nand its errors.\n\nYou must beware, however, of attempting to preach like Bossuet,\nBourdaloue, or Massillon. They addressed courtiers, and the elite\nof society of their times, when men had more knowledge of\nreligion than they have now. Besides, if those eminent preachers\nlived in these days, there is every reason to believe that they\nwould not always speak now as they did then.\n\nPlain speech should be coupled with plain thought.\n\nThe thoughts which serve as starting points, should always be\nsimple, natural, and popular. The people do not understand\nabstractions or the speculations of reason, which are to them a\nstrange language. You should start from the known to lead them to\nthe unknown. That is the mathematical and logical method. You\nmust begin with sensible, visible, and above all with actual\nthings, in order to draw them gently toward spiritual and\ninvisible things, and to the life that is to come. By adopting\nthis course, you may conduct them far onward, and elevate them to\ngreat heights, even to the sublimest aspirations of heart and\nsoul. ... As we have already said by way of example: first\nexhibit religion to them as grand, good, and lovely, then as true\nand divine; winding up by fervently and energetically insisting\non the necessity of submission to its moral law.\n\n{170}\n\nIt is an excellent plan to adopt the ordinary expressions in\nevery-day use among the people, and to apply them in a religious\nsense. Thus, you might tell them to lay up in the _Savings Bank_\nof Heaven, to become members of the _Refuge Fund_ of Eternity,\nand you will be understood.\n\nMonsigneur the Archbishop of Paris, during some of his\nvisitations, furnishes us with a delightful model of this style\nof addressing the people:--\n\n  \"My children,\" said he to the operatives who had assembled in a\n  courtyard to see and hear him, \"my children, while attending to\n  your worldly interests and material welfare--for the increase\n  of which you have my sincere wishes--think also sometimes of\n  that God who created us, and in whom we live, and move, and\n  have our being. Do you know what that man resembles who lives\n  without God and without hope? He is like a piece of wheel-work\n  out of gear, or a faulty machine, which only mars what it ought\n  to make, wounds the hand which it should help, and obliges the\n  owner to break it up and throw it aside.\n\n  \"Maintain, then, my beloved children, the sentiments, and\n  practise the duties which belong to your dignity as men. As\n  workmen, be industrious, honest, and temperate, and your\n  condition will be as happy as it can be here below, remembering\n  that rest will come after toil; for we are all the day-laborers\n  of a gracious God, and life is but a day, at the end of which\n  we shall receive ample wages, and be abundantly recompensed for\n  all our pains.\n\n{171}\n\n  \"My children, I am glad to see that my words affect you. I\n  regret being obliged to separate from you; but before going I\n  give you my benediction as an earnest of my paternal\n  tenderness, and of all the Divine graces which I invoke upon\n  you, upon all who are dear to you, upon your families and your\n  labors.\"\n\nWe should begin, then, by exhibiting the material aspects of\nreligion, proceeding from thence to doctrines and duties, without\nceasing to be simple, true, and natural throughout. This,\nhowever, is not the usual course pursued: we start with\nmetaphysics, move onward through a redundant phraseology, and end\nby making religion more unintelligible than ever.\n\nBut we must be fair: preachers are not wholly to blame in this\nmatter; for if one tries to be simple, true, natural, and\nevangelical, they will tell him in certain districts that his\nstyle is not sufficiently high-flown, that it does not do honor\nto the pulpit. This actually occurred to one of our best\npreachers. A member of the congregation came to him and said:--\n\"You speak admirably; but there is one drawback to your sermons,\nthey are too well understood.\" So that the poor preacher, in\norder to carry out the views of his adviser, felt that he would\nbe obliged to invoke the Holy Spirit to give him grace to say\nunintelligible things! ...\n{172}\nWhat they wanted was something bombastic, academical, and highly\nseasoned; and such is what is generally regarded as constituting\na profound, dignified, and useful sermon.\n\nLook at our blessed Lord: surely He knew what real dignity was.\nOr, let us study the Gospel: do we find there any of these fine\nairs, this inflated and consequential tone? It is simple, clear,\nand profound throughout. We hear it occasionally said of certain\nindividuals:--\"He cannot adapt himself to the capacity of every\none; his knowledge is far too high and deep for that;\" which\nmeans, that the poor man indicated has heaped up in his brains,\npell-mell, a mass of ill-digested ideas which he is unable to\ncall forth with anything like order: and that is all. The truly\nprofound man, on the contrary, is always clear. He moves calmly\nthrough the highest regions of science, and is as much at his\nease there as if he were at home. He sees things, and he narrates\nthem. He turns his thoughts over and over again, putting them\ninto a thousand forms, so as to be able to place them within\nreach of the feeblest intellects. Take M. Arago as an example of\nthis wisdom and simplicity combined. He succeeds in rendering the\nhighest problems of astronomy intelligible, and that in a few\nwords, even to very young children. ...\n\n{173}\n\nHerein, also, a wrong estimate has been formed of the French\nmind; since even those who move in the highest circles of society\nmuch prefer what is simple, clear, and natural.\n\nThere is a well-known preacher in Paris who gives familiar\nlectures--they are real sermons--even when appointed select\nseason-preacher. He has been preaching for the last twenty years\nwithout ever sparing himself, readily responding to every call.\nCrowds of the elegant world, notwithstanding, press round his\npulpit, and there is always the same affluence of hearers. The\nmost eminent of preachers, who adopted a different style of\naddress, would have been used-up long since.\n\nA priest, full of the Spirit of God, died some years ago in the\nflower of his age. He was remarkable in the art of giving plain\nand simple lectures. After his death, these lectures, in a\nmutilated form, were collected and published by a female, and\nobtained as wide a circulation as the most celebrated discourses.\n\nPlain speech pleases and benefits all; whereas what is called\nsublime speech only amuses a few, and benefits fewer still.\n\nBut one of the most effectual ways of making the truth understood\nby the people is by metaphor and simile. They speak an analogous\nlanguage themselves and readily understand it; more especially\nwhen the comparisons are drawn from visible, present, or actual\nthings, and when they are striking or popular. The Sacred\nScriptures are full of expositions of this nature, and the\nsermons of P\u00e8re Lejeune also contain a rich mine of the same\nclass.\n\n{174}\n\nO'Connell did not overlook this means of influencing the people,\nand he sometimes employed it in the most picturesque and\ncharacteristic fashion.\n\nHe was one day assailing the hereditary peerage. \"What are the\nlords?\" said he. \"Because the father was considered a good\nlegislator, therefore the son must be the same! Just as if a man\nwho proposed to make you a coat should answer the question: Are\nyou a tailor? by saying that his father before him was. Is there\nany of you who would employ such an hereditary tailor? This\nprinciple of common sense as regards the lords will become\npopular in time. We want no hereditary legislators or tailors. Do\nyou ask who will make this principle popular? I reply, the lords\nthemselves, who show themselves to be very bad tailors.\"\n\nAbove all, similes drawn from actual things make a still greater\nimpression.\n\nThus, steam-engines and railroads are a common topic of\nconversation nowadays, and form a rich source from whence to\nderive matter for stirring similes and for profitable\ninstruction. For example, you wish to point out the necessity of\nmastering the passions, and of restraining them by the laws of\nGod. The heart of man may be likened to a steam-engine of\nterrific power, which we should mistrust, and which requires to\nbe under the most vigorous control.\n\n{175}\n\nLook at the locomotive confined within its iron furrows. It is a\nwonderful thing; it approximates distances, develops commerce,\nand contributes to the welfare of man. There is much in it to\ncall forth gratitude to a beneficent Providence. But look at it\nwhen thrown off the line. O God! what do I hear and see? I hear\nthe most piercing and heart rending screams; I see blood flowing,\nlimbs broken, heads crushed; and I turn from the spectacle, and\nalmost curse the inventor. ... In like manner, the heart of man,\nwhen restrained by the law of God, is worthy of all admiration;\nit begets the noblest and sublimest virtues, and scatters the\nblessings of a good example all around. It brings joy and\ngladness to the domestic hearth, rendering all those happy who\nlove it; and on seeing such results I am proud of being a man.\nBut once beyond the bounds of that law--thrown off the rails, as\nit were--O God! what do I hear and see? I hear bitter\nlamentations, the harrowing cries of mothers, wives, and\nchildren. I see vice, and crime, and shame mantling on the brow\nof those who indulge therein; and at the sight of so much misery\nand degradation I am tempted to utter imprecations, and almost\nblush that I am a man.\n\n{176}\n\nFinally, another way of simplifying truth is by narrative, of\nwhich the people are very fond. They cast every thing, even\nspiritual things, into tales, legends, and facts, which they take\npleasure in learning to recite. We should imitate them, by\nputting a moral or dogmatic truth into action, connecting it with\na fact, and then narrate it; in short, give it the form of a\nlittle drama. When skilfully employed, this method has a powerful\neffect upon the people, and even upon educated men. The _Paroles\nd'un Croyant_ owed a part of the notoriety which it acquired to\nthis feature. The people must have facts, and often nothing but\nfacts. In like manner the Gospel narrates, but seldom argues. The\nHoly Scriptures are full of truths rendered palpable, as it were,\nby scenic representation.\n\nThus the prophet Isaiah exposes the folly of idolatry in these\nwords:--\n\n  \"Who hath formed a god or a graven image that is profitable for\n  nothing? ... He heweth him down cedars, and taketh the cypress\n  and the oak from among the trees of the forest; he planteth an\n  ash, and the rain doth nourish it. ... He burneth part thereof\n  in the fire; with part thereof he eateth flesh; he eateth roast\n  and is satisfied; yea, he warmeth himself, and saith, Aha! I am\n  warm, I have seen the fire. And the residue thereof he maketh a\n  god, even his graven image; he falleth down to it, and\n  worshippeth it, and prayeth unto it, and saith, Deliver me, for\n  thou art my god. They have not known nor understood, for he\n  hath shut their eyes that they can not see, and their hearts\n  that they cannot understand.\n{177}\n  And none considereth in his heart, neither is there knowledge\n  nor understanding to say, I have burned part of it in the fire;\n  yea, also I have baked bread upon the coals thereof; I have\n  roasted flesh and eaten it; and shall I make the residue\n  thereof an abomination? Shall I fall down to the stock of a\n  tree? He feedeth on ashes; a deceived heart hath turned him\n  aside, that he cannot deliver his soul, nor say, Is there not a\n  lie in my right hand?\"\n\nP\u00e8re Lejeune, apart from certain quaint and obsolete modes of\nexpression, has some charming things of this sort, which must\nhave produced a marvellous effect. He is attempting to point out\nthe heinousness of sin, and to describe the punishment of Adam\nand Eve:--\n\n  \"Picture to yourselves, then, the unfortunate pair, staff in\n  hand, going forth from the earthly paradise, carrying nothing\n  with them but two skins, given them out of compassion by the\n  Judge, to cover their nakedness. They found themselves in the\n  fields as if they had fallen from the clouds, exposed to the\n  inclemency of the weather, to wild beasts, and to their own\n  natural infirmities, without shelter, bed, linen, bread,\n  covering for their hands or feet; without thread or needle,\n  knife or hammer, destitute of any implements beyond their own\n  feeble arms.\n{178}\n  They collect stones as best they may, and cement them together\n  with mud to form a low room, and cover it with branches of\n  trees, which they are obliged to break off with their hands;\n  for they had neither saw nor hatchet. They gather leaves for\n  their couch, and fruits and wheat for their subsistence; but if\n  they wanted any in years to come, they must till the ground, or\n  rather they must dig it up with sticks, having no other kind of\n  spade. Think, then, of the woman, and of the straits to which\n  she must have been put on being seized with the pangs of labor,\n  which she had never before experienced, and on being confined\n  with her first child. When she saw her firstborn ushered into\n  the world in its natural state, moaning and trembling with the\n  cold, and found herself utterly destitute of linen, cradle,\n  cap, bandages, and all the other requisites for a new-born\n  babe,--when she was called to bear all this, how poignantly she\n  must have recognized the enormity of her offence!\n\n  \"But when both parents saw their son Abel, a youth as beautiful\n  as a star, gentle as a lamb, and devout as an angel, stretched\n  stark dead upon the ground, wounded and weltering in his blood,\n  a ghastly spectacle to behold; the bloom on his face gone, his\n  lips livid, the light of his eyes utterly extinguished,--on\n  first beholding all this, they could have no idea that he was\n  dead, for they had never witnessed death; but drawing near they\n  say:--'Abel, what dost thou here? Who hath done this?' The dead\n  are silent.\n{179}\n  'My beloved Abel, why speakest thou not? My son! my soul! I\n  pray thee speak? But Abel has no more words, no more voice, no\n  sight, no motion. Decay soon sets in, and Abel becomes foul and\n  corrupt, and father and mother are obliged to cover him with\n  earth. When at length they learn that it was their sin which\n  had given entrance to death, what grief, what tears, what anger\n  against the fatal tree, against the tempter, against\n  themselves, and against everything which had contributed to\n  their disobedience, must have agitated the wretched pair! Why\n  did we pluck of that tree? Why did we not burn it rather than\n  be tempted to gather its fruit? Why did we not quit the earthly\n  paradise, and flee to the end of the world to avoid the risk of\n  so tremendous an evil? Why did I not pluck out my eyes rather\n  than look upon that which I was forbidden to know? Ill-advised\n  that I was, why did I suffer myself to be amused with talking\n  to the serpent? Liar, thou didst assure me that we should be as\n  gods, and behold we are more humiliated and miserable than the\n  beasts of the field!\n\n  \"In like manner, when you are in hell, you will regret, and\n  lament, and resolve; but it will then be too late. You will be\n  maddened with spite and rage against everything that has\n  conspired to your condemnation. Alas! why did I not cut out my\n  tongue when preachers told me that my oaths would damn me? Why\n  did I not smite to death this scandalous bosom of mine?\n{180}\n  Why did I not destroy the papers of that lawsuit which I\n  prosecuted so unjustly, and the schedule and bond of that poor\n  man who could not pay the usurious interest which I charged him\n  for money lent? Why did I not leave the town and province, and\n  bury myself in the wilds of Canada, rather than remain where\n  there was an occasion of my falling into sin?\"\n\nIn concluding, I must be permitted to quote a more recent\nexample, premising that I only adduce it as a model of familiar\nconversation with the working classes.\n\nM. l'Abb\u00e9 Ledreuil, in an address to operatives, is endeavoring\nto convince them that they have no reason to envy the rich, since\nthe working man has his share of joy and happiness as well as\nthey. He expresses himself somewhat as follows, though I must\napologize for abridging, and therefore for disfiguring his\nlecture:--\n\n  \"My friends, do not envy the rich, and don't believe them happy\n  because they have nothing to do. The rich must work, after\n  their fashion, under pain of being unhappy and of leading a\n  miserable existence. Hence it is that, for the most part, they\n  condemn themselves to work as you do. ... And do you know how\n  one of this class passes his life who does not work? I will\n  tell you: he thinks everything a bore, and he yawns.\n\n{181}\n\n  \"In the morning, he no sooner begins to dress than he stops\n  short. He is so tired! He stretches his limbs, and--he yawns.\n\n  \"He next sets about his toilet, which is a very formidable\n  affair to him; enters into his dressing-room quite a perfumery\n  shop in its way--looks around him, and then--he yawns.\n\n  \"Breakfast-time comes. He goes to the breakfast-room, surveys\n  the different dishes, knows not which to choose, for the poor\n  man is not hungry, and--he yawns.\n\n  \"After breakfast, he takes up a paper and skims over it. Pugh!\n  politics are so uninteresting. Then more than ever--he yawns.\n\n  \"Toward noon, or one o'clock, he must go out, and asks himself:\n  Where shall I go to-day? Shall I go to Madame So-and-so? No,\n  she is at the waters. I will go to Mr. So-and-so. By the way,\n  he is in the country; and then--he yawns.\n\n  \"For something better to do, he seeks the promenade, where he\n  meets a friend of his own stamp. They shake the tips of each\n  other's fingers, not to hurt their hands, touch the brims of\n  their hats, and then together, one more than the other,--they\n  yawn.\n\n  \"He next takes a chair, adjusts his feet on the bars, places\n  himself at his ease, thinks of nothing, looks vacantly into the\n  air, or bites the head of his cane, and then--he yawns.\n\n{182}\n\n  \"In the evening he goes to the theatre, extends himself at full\n  length in his box, gazes around him, listens, and then--he\n  yawns.\n\n  \"He returns home very late. He is quite worn out and needs\n  sleep, and ends the day as he began it--he yawns.\n\n  \"Not so the laborer: he rises early, goes to his work betimes,\n  and he sings or whistles.\n\n  \"The breakfast-hour arrives. He loses no time in examining\n  which dish he will partake of, for there is only one. He does\n  not yawn over it, but eats with a good appetite, and in the\n  same cheery mood he passes the remainder of the day.\n\n  \"My friends, don't be discontented with your lot. Don't\n  say:--'If I were rich I would take my ease; for work is a\n  blessing. Don't envy the rich, but be thankful for what God has\n  given you. The honest and industrious workman, who has a good\n  heart, and loves virtue, is the spoilt child of Providence.\"\n\n{183}\n\n    Chapter VI.\n\n    The Sermon Should Be Short.\n\n\n  The Discourses of the Fathers were short.\n  The French Mind is quick to apprehend.\n  Sermons are generally too long.\n  Sermons of Ten, Seven, and of Five Minutes.\n\n\n\"Long sermons bore us,\" [Footnote 16] says M. de Cormenin; \"and\nwhen a Frenchman is bored, he leaves the place and goes away. If\nhe cannot so retire, he remains and talks. If he cannot talk, he\nyawns and falls asleep. Anyhow, he declares that he will not come\nagain. ...\"\n\n    [Footnote 16: \"_Nous ennuient._\" It is useless to attempt\n    giving the full force of the French _ennui_ in any one\n    English word. That above adopted appears to me the nearest\n    approach to it which our language affords; still it comes far\n    short of the expressive original. Translator.]\n\nThe sermon should be short. At all events, it must not bore. Bore\nor ennui is fatal in France, and is never pardoned. It has been\nsaid, there are two things which are not permitted in France,\nnamely, to ridicule and to bore.\n{184}\nUnhappily the former is allowed nowadays, for there are many who\nuse it, and many who abuse it; but on the article of bore society\nis still inflexible and implacable. The man who is deemed a bore\nis shunned and detested. We, the clergy, must beware of exciting\nthis antipathy on the score of religion; the more so, because\nmost minds secrete a stock of the sentiment, which is readily\ncalled forth when they are brought in contact with any thing\nserious.\n\nOn the other hand, why preach so long? I know not how we have\nallowed ourselves to be led into these lengthy discourses. What\nis the good of it? What is the object? We speak in God's name.\nNow, power and majesty are always chary of words; yet such words\nare not the less efficacious for being few. The instructions of\nour blessed Lord, who is the Divine Master of us all, were\nuniformly short. Even the Sermon on the Mount, which has\nrevolutionized the world, does not appear to have lasted more\nthan half an hour. The homilies of the Fathers also were short,\nand Saint Ambrose says:--\"_Nec nimium prolixus sit sermo ne\nfastidium pariat; semihorae tempus communiter non excedat._\"\nSaint Fran\u00e7ois de Sales, too, recommends short sermons, and\nremarks that excessive length was the general fault in the\npreachers of his time.\n\n  He says:--\"The good Saint Fran\u00e7ois, in his rules to the\n  preachers of his Order, directs that their sermons should be\n  short.\n\n{185}\n\n  \"Believe me, and I speak from experience, the more you say, the\n  less will the hearers retain; the less you say, the more they\n  will profit. By dint of burdening their memory, you will\n  overwhelm it; just as a lamp is extinguished by feeding it with\n  too much oil, and plants are choked by immoderate irrigation.\n\n  \"When a sermon is too long, the end erases the middle from the\n  memory, and the middle the beginning.\n\n  \"Even mediocre preachers are acceptable, provided their\n  discourses are short; whereas even the best preachers are a\n  burden when they speak too long.\"\n\nIs not long preaching very much like an attempt to surpass these\nmen, who were so highly imbued with the spirit of Christianity?\n\nOn the other hand, we have to deal with the most intelligent,\nkeen, and sensible people in the world. They understand a thing\nwhen only half stated, and very often divine it. You hardly speak\nbefore they are moved to accept or to reject; and yet we\novercharge them with long and heavy dissertations. To act in this\nway, is to evince an utter unacquaintance with one's people, and\nto display our own ignorance, in spite of all the learning which\nwe may possess. Moreover, it tends to excite antipathy.\n{186}\nThe Frenchman does not care to be treated like a German: he does\nnot wish to be told every thing, thereby depriving him of the\npleasure of working out the truth for himself. Open the vein,\nlance his imagination and feelings, let them flow on the road to\ntruth, and he will pursue it alone; perchance more quickly and\nfurther than you. Nothing impairs intelligence, sentiment, and\nthe effusion of thought so much as redundancy of words and even\nof ideas.\n\nA sharp working man, who had been listening to a sermon, was once\nasked--\n\n  \"What did the preacher say? What do you remember of his\n  sermon?\"\n\n  \"Nothing at all.\"\n\n  \"How's that? Surely you heard him?\"\n\n  \"Perfectly.\"\n\n  \"How is it, then, that you did not understand any thing?\"\n\n  \"Ah,\" replied he, in an original language, which only the\n  people can command, \"because all he had to say was hid behind a\n  mass of words.\"\n\nThere is too much reminiscence of our philosophical and\nscholastic studies in our sermons. It often appears as if we were\nspeaking to a meeting of young bachelors in theology. We seem to\nbelieve--and the notion is generally taken for granted--that we\nhave not adequately developed an idea unless we discuss it for an\nhour or for three-quarters of an hour at the least.\n\n{187}\n\nThus the audience is overwhelmed under the weight of a ponderous\nerudition. It is not sufficient that they should have one proof\nset before them, they must submit to any conceivable number on\nthe same subject. Or, to use M. de Cormenin's language, preachers\nkeep on using the flat side of their sword with weak proofs,\nafter they have given a decisive thrust with the weapon's point.\nWhat has been said a thousand times before is repeated, and what\neverybody knows, or what nobody needs to know, is dilated upon to\nno purpose.\n\nA man must be endowed with extraordinary genius who can bring\nforcible thoughts to bear upon one and the same subject for the\nspace of a whole hour. But this consideration does not appear to\noccasion the least embarrassment. The vacuities of thought are\nfilled up with words, and that is called developing an idea.\n\nFor the most part, we are all convinced that others speak too\nlong, but we are beguiled by the world's flattery.\n\nWe preach, and people are delighted, and send intimations to us\nthat we have acquitted ourselves to admiration; that they would\ngladly have listened to us much longer, and so forth.\n\n{188}\n\nBut we know better than any one else that the world does not\nalways speak the truth, and that we ourselves have frequently\ndenounced its want of sincerity. How comes it, then, that we are\ndeluded by such fine speeches? In flattering us, the world simply\nplies its trade; but it is our duty not to give heed to its\nblandishments. Moreover, there prevails at present a strong and\nuniversal conviction that, generally speaking, our sermons are\ntoo long.\n\nAsk whom you please, enemies and friends, ask even the most\nfervent Christians--thanks be to God there are intelligent men,\nand men renowned for their charity among the sincerely\nreligious--ask them, I say, and they will tell you that our\nsermons and services are too long. And if pious and intelligent\nmen are of that opinion, what must the masses think?\n\nUndoubtedly, the intention is praiseworthy. ... We aim at\nsecuring a greater good by lengthening out the services and\nsermon. Still, it is equally certain that in so doing we discard\nboth prudence and charity. It resembles the ordinary treatment of\nwives, who insist on giving their sick husbands good strong\nbroth, on the plea that it will do them more good than all the\nchemist's medicines. The intention is unquestionably a kind one;\nbut it is no less true that the regimen, instead of benefiting\nthe patients, is most likely to kill them outright. Alas! the\nsame result has followed a similar injudicious treatment of men's\nsouls.\n\n{189}\n\nA man of high intellectual attainments, recently converted,\ndeclared that the manner in which he was bored by sermons during\nhis youth, had kept him from listening to them for twenty years.\nWe complain, and with reason, that the masses have ceased to\nfrequent the church, and that sermons nowadays are not popular.\nBut do not we assist in driving them away? The services are\nlonger now than they were in the seventeenth and eighteenth\ncenturies, when there was more faith abroad among the people\ngenerally.\n\nReligion would most probably be greatly promoted if the sermon\nand the services also were abridged. This might readily be\naffected as regards the latter. Pitch your music out of the\nwindow, or rather out of the door, as the former might not be\nconsidered parliamentary. Or, take care at least that the polkas\nwith which your organist embellishes the _Magnificat_ shall not\noccupy more than a quarter of an hour. With respect to the\nsermons, they might easily be shortened without injuring them in\nthe least. Lop off all commonplace considerations from the\nexordium, all useless discussions from the body of the discourse,\nand all vague phrases from the peroration. Prune away all\nredundant words, all parasitical epithets, using only those that\ntriple the force of the substantive. Be chary of words and\nphrases; economize them as a miser does his crown-pieces.\n{190}\nThe people affect those thoughts which are formulated in a single\nword. They like such expressions as the following:--_vive! ... \u00e0\nbas! ... mort! ... vengeance! ... libert\u00e9! ... justice!_ These\nsimple words often move men more than a long discourse.\n\nIn this respect, however, there has been a marked improvement in\nmany of our churches. There are parishes in Paris where a rule\nprevails that no one shall preach more than forty minutes. In\nsome popular meetings, preachers are not allowed to speak beyond\nfifteen minutes, and it is there that the most good is done.\n\nNowadays, brevity is one of the first conditions of success, and\nof promoting the welfare of souls.\n\nThe preacher who was most frequented at Paris during the Lenten\nseason this year, hardly ever exceeded half-an-hour. There are,\nundoubtedly, many other rules to be observed, but brevity will\nnot injuriously affect any of them.\n\nThe people are easily impressed: they like to be moved; but\nnothing passes away so quickly as an emotion. In order to bring\nthem back to the church, we must have sermons of ten, seven, and\neven of five minutes duration. The Mass and the sermon together\nshould not exceed half-an-hour.\n\n{191}\n\nThis plan has been attempted. The experiment was made, and\nproduced the most happy and unexpected results. Intelligent and\nzealous pastors, distressed at seeing that the greater part of\ntheir flock scarcely ever heard the word of God or went to\nchurch, established a low Mass, announced as specially designed\nfor the men, with a lecture of from ten to five minutes duration\nevery Sunday. ... Crowds flocked to the church, which was\nsometimes found too small to hold them. Nor was this all: many\nattended high Mass also, and even went to the confessional; which\nthey had not done, some for twenty, some for thirty, and some for\nforty years. This success was obtained in irreligious as well as\nreligious districts, and under the most unfavorable\ncircumstances; even in populous manufacturing towns. And the same\nplan is practicable everywhere. Frequently, nothing more is\nrequired than a man to take the initiative with a right good\nwill, in order to attract crowds to the church and to religion.\n\nBut it will be objected: What can be said in ten or seven\nminutes? Much, much more than is generally thought, when due\npreparation is made, when we have a good knowledge of mankind,\nand are well versed in religious matters. ... Have not a few\nwords often sufficed to revolutionize multitudes, and to produce\nan immense impression?\n\n{192}\n\nThe harangues of Napoleon only lasted a few minutes, yet they\nelectrified whole armies. The speech at Bourdeaux did not exceed\na quarter of an hour, and yet it resounded throughout the world.\nHad it been longer, it would have been less effective. In fifteen\nweeks, with a sermon of seven minutes every Sunday, one might\ngive a complete course of religious instruction, if the sermons\nwere well digested beforehand. [Footnote 17]\n\n    [Footnote 17: We have chosen the seven minutes sermon,\n    because experience has taught us that it attracts the\n    greatest numbers.]\n\nIf, then, you wish to be successful, in the first place fix the\nlength of your sermon, and never go beyond the time; be\ninflexible on that score. Should you exceed it, apologize to your\naudience for so doing, and prove in the pulpit of truth that you\ncan be faithful to your word.\n\nIn your course of instruction, do not follow the old method which\ncommences with metaphysical questions and principles; but adhere\nto the plan which we have indicated: start from the known to the\nunknown. ...\n\nIn the first place, disconnect religion from all prejudices and\npassions, and from every thing uncongenial. Discard all\nobjections and antagonisms. Exhibit it as good and lovely, then\ntrue, then divine, then as obligatory, proceeding onward from\nthence to God's commandments and to the sacraments. If you\napprehend that the term \"God's commandments\" does not\nsufficiently strike your hearers, you may call them the duties of\nan upright man.\n\n{193}\n\nWhen about to compose your sermon, study your subject thoroughly,\ngrasp the salient points, and then write. ...\n\nBut do not stop there; begin afresh. Supposing that you have\nwritten four pages, reduce them to two, taking care that all the\nstrong thoughts and sentiments remain. ... Use those terms which\nbelong to a single thought, those expressions which imprint\nthemselves--or, as the Scripture says, engrave the truth as with\na pen of steel--on the hearts of men, and which scatter it abroad\nfull of life and exultation. Nothing is so profitable as this\nexercise: it cultivates and supplies the intellect, gives us a\ndeeper insight into Christianity and mankind, and it teaches us\nhow to think, and how to write. ...\n\nDuring the reading of the Gospel, ascend the pulpit and be quite\nready. Place your watch by your side and begin thus:--\"Last\nSunday we said so and so. To-day we continue.\" ... Then enter\nfully into your subject, enlightening the minds of your hearers\nor stirring up their hearts as may be suitable, during the\ndiscourse. When the allotted time arrives, stop short and\nconclude.\n\n\"But do speak more at length ... you are wrong in being so brief\n... you only tantalize your audience ... you deprive them of a\nreal pleasure.\" Expostulations like these will pour in upon you;\nbut don't listen to them: be inflexible, for those who urge them\nare enemies without knowing it.\n\n{194}\n\nBe more rigid than ever in observing the rule which you have\nprescribed for yourself. Then your sermon will be talked of--it\nwill be a phenomenon--every body will come to _see_ a sermon of\nseven minutes duration. The people will come; the rich will\nfollow. Faith will bring the one, and curiosity will attract the\nother, and thus the Divine word will have freer course and be\nglorified. ...\n\nIf the men do not come, appeal to the women, and ask them to help\nyou. If you want to attract the women, announce that you intend\npreaching specially for the men. You will find this method\ninfallible; the men will follow.\n\nMoreover, go yourself and find them out: visit the workshops,\nfactories, and wharves. Be particularly attentive to those who\nare shabbily dressed and ill-favored. On taking your departure,\ntell them with a smile that French politeness--in which you feel\nquite sure they are not deficient--demands that visits received\nshould be returned: that you will dispense with their coming to\nyou personally, but will expect to see them at the seven minutes\nsermon. The result will not disappoint you.\n\n{195}\n\nWhen you have many male hearers, you should reserve a space for\nthem. The women will complain that thereby they are placed\nfurther away; but you must appease them with a compliment. Tell\nthem that you know their charity, and are persuaded that they\nwould not certainly wish to hinder the word of God from being\nheard by those who need it most.\n\nWhen you have well cultivated your congregation, when a strong\ncurrent of sympathy and charity has set in from them to you and\nfrom you to them, when a number of conversions shall have been\nmade, then you may think of sending some of them to high Mass and\nto Vespers. Don't fail to felicitate such:--\"You have come hither\nto hear me. So far well, and I am greatly rejoiced at it. Still\nyou may do something better: you may attend high Mass,\" adding\nyour reasons, and then conclude somewhat in this style:--\"Now, I\nhope that those who are rightly disposed will attend high Mass. I\nonly want the badly disposed, poor downright sinners, at my\nsermons.\" You will be obeyed by some, and you will thereby do\nmuch toward repopularizing religion; and when those who are not\nconverted fall sick they will say:--\"Send for the man who\npreaches the seven minutes sermon; I don't want any other.\" Thus\nGod will be blessed and glorified. ...\n\nHere, then, you have a very simple and cheap means of restoring\nthe people to religion. It may be put into practice everywhere:\nin great cities, in small towns, and even in hamlets. The subject\nis one for serious reflection.\n{196}\nEven in our most religiously disposed towns, hardly a third of\nthe inhabitants habitually hear the word of God. Elsewhere,\nmatters are still worse; and yet all are sheep of the same Divine\npastor, all have a soul to save. Moreover, according to all\ntheologians, every parish priest of a cure is required, _sub\ngravi_, to preach at low Mass, whenever the faithful generally do\nnot attend high Mass. Hence, by pursuing the course above\nindicated, we may not only save others but shall also exonerate\nourselves.\n\n{197}\n\n    Chapter VII.\n\n    Tact and Kindliness.\n\n  We should assume that our Hearers are what we wish them to be.\n  Reproaches to be avoided.\n  How to address Unbelievers.\n  Special Precautions to be taken in small Towns and rural Districts.\n  How to treat Men during times of public Commotion.\n  Forbearance due to the Church for being obliged to receive Money\n    from the Faithful.\n\n\nIn France, it is not enough to say good things, they must also be\nwell said. This remark applies to all, but more especially to him\nwho speaks in behalf of the Gospel; for he is bound to follow the\nDivine injunction:--\"Be ye wise as serpents, and harmless as\ndoves;\" which I should prefer to see carried out as commented\nupon by St. Fran\u00e7ois de Sales:--\"Ah! my dear Philothea, I would\ngive a hundred serpents for one dove.\"\n\nIt is especially in this respect that we should endeavor to\nreduce to practice what has already been advanced on the\nimportance of becoming thoroughly acquainted with the people, and\nthe necessity of loving them in order to our being qualified to\naddress them to good purpose.\n{198}\nWe must make ourselves Sisters of Charity to the souls of men;\nhaving all their pliancy and kindness, so as to be capable of\nconforming ourselves to those light, weak, vain, and fickle\ncharacters--to say nothing of the suspicious and malevolent--with\nwhom we may have to deal. Our age is arrayed in prejudices from\nhead to foot, and no sooner is one destroyed than another is\nready to take its place.\n\nFor the most part, a great mistake is made as regards this\nnecessity of exercising tact in our intercourse with the people.\nIt is remarked:--\"We have to do with little people, such\ncircumspection is therefore uncalled for. Why should we give\nourselves so much trouble on their account?\" Very true; but\nlittle people are often very susceptible people everywhere; not\namong the laity only, but among the clergy likewise.\n\nThe people have certain formalities, courtesies, and politenesses\nof their own which we should learn to respect, for when once\noutraged, they are more difficult to be appeased than the\neducated and genteel classes. Complaints are often made of our\ncongregations; but have they not sometimes cause on their part to\ncomplain of their preachers? ... Are these latter always prudent\nand conciliatory in their mode of procedure? And yet success\ndepends on this mixture of tact and kindliness.\n\n{199}\n\nIn our sermons, we should start with assuming that the people are\nwhat we wish them to be; thereby raising them in their own\nestimation, and laying hold of them by their better part. ... You\nwill then feel yourself quite at ease, and in spite of any desire\non the part of your hearers to oppose you, they will be\nrestrained from doing so by an exquisite sentiment of respect.\n\nA _religieux_ who was engaged on a mission in a rural district,\nhad announced that a particular gallery, which had previously\nbeen occupied by the men, would in future be reserved for the\nladies forming the choir. Now, the men were much attached to the\nsaid gallery, and were determined to keep it. Accordingly, the\nday after, long before the sermon, they installed themselves in\nit as usual.\n\nOn ascending the pulpit, the preacher noticed that his directions\nhad not been attended to. What would he do? Command or scold? A\nvulgar man might have done so under the circumstances, but he got\nover the difficulty by a compliment.\n\nTurning toward the occupants of the gallery, he addressed them in\na kindly tone as follows:--\"My dear friends, you are aware that\nthe gallery was set apart for the ladies. Now, French politeness\ncalls upon us always to give place to the ladies, and not to\ndeprive them of it. From what I already know of you, I feel\npersuaded that you will not be behindhand in that respect.\" ...\n\"We have put our foot into it,\" whispered the men one to another;\n\"and can hold out no longer.\n{200}\nAh! the crafty fellow, he has outwitted us, and we must go.\" The\ngallery was evacuated forthwith and made over to the ladies; to\nthe satisfaction of all, even of those who had been worsted in\nthe affair. That is the way to deal with the people. The preacher\nmight have asserted his absolute authority on the occasion; but,\nlike a wise man, he preferred the exercise of prudence and\ncharity.\n\nWe repeat it: the most effectual way of communicating the truth\nto the people, of putting them in the right way, and of reforming\nthem, is not to be chary of complimenting them when they have\ndeserved it ever so little; and to show that we have confidence\nin them. This course tends to gladden their souls; disposes them\nto what is good, exalts, elates them. It should never be\nneglected, for it is capable of transforming the most obstinate\ncharacters.\n\nSubsequent to the revolution of 1848, an association of\nunemployed operatives was formed at the church of the Carmelites;\namongst whom was a number of sharpers, makers of barricades, and\nworkmen always on the look-out for work--men clothed in rags and\nin a state of complete destitution. There were about twelve\nhundred of them. A meal was first served out to them, which was\nfollowed by a lecture.\n\n{201}\n\nThe priests who addressed them soon acquired an irresistible\nascendency over this formidable body; so much so that certain\nparties took umbrage at it, as a dangerous power to be wielded by\nthe clergy, and accordingly hired a set of roughs to hiss and\notherwise disturb the congregation.\n\nThe preacher, who was apprised of this on entering the pulpit,\ndid not manifest the least discomposure. Before beginning the\nsermon, however, he looked round upon the sinister figures and\ntattered habiliments of his hearers with a benevolent\ncountenance, and then said in a sonorous voice:--\"What a pleasant\nmeeting this is, my friends! What an excellent audience! what\nsilence! what attention! Therein I recognize the people. ... P\u00e8re\nLacordaire preaches at Notre-Dame to the noble and wealthy, and\nit is found necessary to station constables there to maintain\norder. ... None but men of the people are here, and yet we have\nno constables amongst us. We do not want them, for the people are\ntheir own police; the people are discreet.\" ...\n\nHe then delivered his sermon, which was listened to amidst the\nmost profound silence. Never was an audience of nuns more\nattentive than those men; their deportment was admirable. The\nroughs took the hint, saw that their game was up, and that those\nwho had engaged them would lose their money. They accordingly\nmoved toward the door.\n\n{202}\n\nWhen the sermon was over, however, a few hisses were attempted;\nbut fifty stalwart arms instantly seized the intruders, and\nadministered a castigation to them which was by no means\nfraternal.\n\nBy laying hold of men in this manner we may lead them onward a\ngreat way on the road to improvement. ...\n\nOne should be very cautious not to assume that his hearers are\nwicked, impious, or unbelieving. The people do not relish such\nimputations: they don't like reproaches; neither do you, dear\nreader. They rarely do any good, and often much harm.\n\nIf it is deemed desirable to censure a fault, a vice, or a\nscandal, such delinquencies may be treated of in a general way,\nand energetically denounced. In applying the lesson to your\nhearers, you might say in a subdued tone--\"Malpractices like\nthese are committed elsewhere. It is even stated that you are not\nwholly free from them; but perhaps it is only the malevolent who\nsay this of you. However, if you have really been guilty of them,\nI am sure you will abandon them in future. It is always a duty to\nprove that the malevolent are in the wrong.\" You may further\nadd:--\"I will do you this justice, that whenever I have given you\nany advice, I have always had the satisfaction of finding that\nsome at least have profited by it.\"\n\n{203}\n\nIt shows a want of charity as well as tact--and it is, moreover,\ndeplorably vulgar--to address a congregation in such a style as\nthe following:--\"All my preaching, and all the trouble which I\ntake in your behalf are in vain, for you are not a whit better.\nFaith is departing from France. ... I must abandon you to your\nfate. No matter how I preach, none the more come to the sermons.\"\n... I say this mode of address is as vulgar and contemptible as\nit is derogatory to the minister of the Gospel. Saint John\nChrysostom, as already remarked, did not talk in that style:--\"If\nyou reject my words,\" said he, \"I shall not shake off the dust of\nmy feet against you. Not that herein I would disobey the Saviour;\nbut because the love which He has given me for you prevents my\ndoing so.\" ...\n\nIf sermons are not attended, whose fault is it? It is our duty to\nlook into that question. At all events, if only a few come it is\nnot certainly their fault, and therefore they should be spared\nall reproaches; otherwise some captious hearer--and such are to\nbe met with everywhere--may slip into a corner of the pulpit, and\nsay:--\"Take care, Mr. Preacher; you are speaking ill of the\nabsent, and you know better than I do that such a proceeding is\nimproper.\" ...\n\n{204}\n\nIf your audience is scanty, I can quite fancy that you would like\nto comment upon it, and also to express a little annoyance at the\nfact; but you may do something better. Begin by congratulating\nthose who are present, thank them heartily for coming to listen\nto you, and tell them afterward, in an affectionate manner, that\nit would be a praiseworthy act if they could induce one or two of\ntheir comrades to accompany them to the next meeting. Instead of\nuttering reproaches against the erring absentees, which your\nhearers might report to them, charge the latter to communicate\nwords of kindness to them:--\n\n\"Tell those dear brethren who do not attend the lectures, that we\nbear them no ill-will; that we love all of them; that they too\nare our children; and that we never cease praying for them.\"\nThereby all will be edified, and God will be less offended. ...\n\nFurther, it is highly imprudent to say to one's audience:--\"I\nhave preached to you a long time, and yet you are still the same:\nI see no improvement in you. On the contrary, evil increases\nevery year. I wash my hands of you; you will be lost: you will be\ndamned.\" ... Now, the people do not like to be damned, or to be\ndiscouraged. Besides, such a course is highly dangerous. ...\nMight they not say:--\"As it seems that we are damned already, let\nus at least enjoy life while it lasts.\" Moreover, may there not\nstill be a portion for the pastor, even from among the erring\nflock?\n\nA pastor once recapitulated in the pulpit the results of his\nministrations in this language:--\"My time is thrown away upon\nyou, for you become more and more ungodly.\n\n{205}\n\n\"The first year of my cure there were only five persons who did\nnot communicate at Easter.\n\n\"The second year there were eleven.\n\n\"The third year there were thirty.\n\n\"And the number has gone on increasing, so that at present there\nare eighty non-communicants.\" After Mass, a mischievous peasant\napproached the speaker, and said, in a low voice:--\"Monsieur le\nCur\u00e9, take my advice, and don't make so much stir about this\nmatter. According to your own testimony, we were in a\nsatisfactory condition when you took charge of us, so that we\nmust have deteriorated under your _reign_.\"\n\nNeither should such commonplace and infelicitous remarks as the\nfollowing be made:--\"Faith is departing from among men. ... Hell\nis let loose on earth; ... everybody is abandoning religion;\" ...\nfor observations like these only tend to induce others to abandon\nit; and the people will hardly feel disposed to practise a\nreligion which the rest of the world is alleged to be giving up.\nThey would rather prefer being lost with the multitude.\n\nOn the contrary, you should say something to this effect,--\"Go\nto! faith is not extinct, for there are many godly men to be\nfound in all ranks of society.\n{206}\nYou would be convinced of this if you only knew what takes place\nin our large towns, where numbers of the young, the rich, and the\nlearned belonging to the higher classes, and others occupying\ndistinguished positions, may be seen devoutly frequenting the\nservices of the church, partaking of the holy communion, visiting\nthe poor, and practising confession with the docility of little\nchildren. Moreover, what exemplary women there are amongst us!\"\n... You might then add:--\"Brethren, we should strive to imitate\nsuch men, and should not allow ourselves to be outdone by them.\"\nRepresentations like these will induce the people to think more\nhighly of religion, and will make it more attractive to them.\n\nWe have already discussed the most appropriate method of warning\nthe people against the bad example and pernicious talk of those\nwho affect infidelity; but a few additional remarks may not be\nout of place here. In general, we should not evince any fear of\nsuch antagonism, nor attach much importance to it. We should\nrather cause the impression to be produced that God having\nbestowed mind and talent upon mankind, is a proof that He can be\nin no dread of those endowments.\n\nAbove all, we should lay great stress on such reflections as\nthese:--that those who call themselves unbelievers are, in fact,\nnothing of the kind, and are better than their words would imply;\nalthough, perchance, they might not be greatly disappointed if\nthey could attain to infidelity; that they have as good reason\nfor fearing hell as others have of being in dread of the police;\nand that by dint of repeating that they are unbelievers, they\nhave been led to imagine that they are so in reality.\n\n{207}\n\nYou might liken them to some of those old soldiers of the empire,\nwho, from having travelled a good deal in foreign countries, are\ngenerally allowed the license of embellishing and even of\ninventing a little. As everybody knows, they make free use of the\nprivilege, and concoct a number of tales wherein they themselves\nare made to play a prominent part. These they repeat incessantly,\nuntil at length they succeed in persuading themselves that such\nstories are true, and that the incidents actually occurred as\nthey have narrated them. ... It is the same with those who wish\nto pass themselves off as unbelievers. Hence we should not allow\nourselves to be moved by their words; for at heart they are\nbetter men and nearer to God than is thought, and you should\ninsist on the duty of praying for them. If you pursue this\ncourse, none will be hurt or offended, and the wives, daughters,\nor mothers of these pretended unbelievers will return home from\nyour sermons happier at the thought that all hope for those whom\nthey love is not wholly lost.\n\n{208}\n\nThe sterner the truths which you have to set forth, the more\nshould tact and kindliness be brought into play, that the souls\nof the hearers be not depressed. This, however, is a very common\nerror. We are terrible in the pulpit; we thunder and storm there;\nwhereas in the confessional we are gentle and paternal. That was\nall well enough in times of faith; but an entirely different\ncourse is called for nowadays, otherwise you will estrange the\nhearts of your people. Be paternal in the pulpit, be paternal in\nthe confessional as well; but at the same time uncompromising in\nyour principles. There are many things which terrify at a\ndistance, but which, nevertheless, are readily assented to in the\nfamiliar intercourse of the confessional.\n\nWe sometimes hear such language as this, uttered in a tone of\ngreat self-conceit, after a long tirade or vehement\ndeclamation:--\"I have driven them into a corner. I have now\nfairly crushed them.\" You have crushed them, have you? So much\nthe worse, for in so doing you have altogether misapprehended\nyour duty. God has not called you to crush men, but to raise and\nsave them. Moreover, there is much cause to fear that those whom\nyou have crushed will not run the less eagerly in the way of\nevil.\n\nHence all strong admonitions should be tempered with such\ndeprecations as these:--\"Brethren, why am I constrained to tell\nyou these stern truths? You will pardon me for doing so, because\nit is my duty. It pains me as much as it does you to have to say\nthem.\"\n{209}\nOr, something to this effect:--\"If I wished to pain you, or if it\nwas not rather my heart's desire to spare you, or if I did not\nlove you, I might inflict on you the chastisement of irony and\ndefeat; I might say this or that, and speak truly and justly. But\nno; I leave you to your own consciences, which will tell you of\nyour faults and failings more forcibly than I can. For my part, I\nprefer holding out a hand to you, I prefer to pity, to save you.\"\n...\n\nWe must become the servants of all. ... That was the course\npursued by Saint John Chrysostom. \"A man,\" says he, \"who is only\nbound to serve one master, and to submit to one opinion only, may\ndischarge his duty without trouble; but I have an infinity of\nmasters, being called to serve an immense people who hold many\ndifferent views. Not that I bear this servitude with any sort of\nimpatience, nor that by the present discourse I would defend\nmyself against the authority which you exercise over me in the\ncapacity of masters. God forbid that I should entertain such a\nthought! On the contrary, nothing is so glorious to me as this\nservitude of love.\"\n\nThe same feelings ought to pervade the heart of every Christian\npriest, who should be able to say as St. Paul did to the\nCorinthians:--\"Out of much affliction and anguish of heart, I\nwrote unto you with many tears; not that ye should be grieved,\nbut that ye might know the love which I have more abundantly unto\nyou.\"\n\n{210}\n\nYou become aware, for instance, of a prevailing disposition to\nill-will, and have cause to apprehend the ridicule of certain\nparties. Under these circumstances, throw yourself into the hands\nof your audience; make them your judge, and rest assured you will\nbe treated with indulgence. As Saint Augustine has said:--\"If you\nfear God, cast yourself into His arms, and then His hands cannot\nstrike you.\" In like manner, if you fear the wit and ridicule of\nthe French people, throw yourself into their hearts, and then the\nsallies of their tongues will fail to reach you.\n\nThere are certain thoughts and expressions which have a great\nhold on the French mind, such as progress, liberty,\nenlightenment. These you should never meddle with unless\nabsolutely obliged. We ought to respect even the illusions of our\nbrethren, when they do nobody any harm. When we are forced to\ncombat them, it should be done with courtesy, with gentle irony,\nor with profound ability. We, too, may speak of enlightenment, of\nprogress, and of liberty, and point out that they can only be\neffectually attained through the instrumentality of religion. ...\n\nMatters have undoubtedly improved on this score; proving that, if\nwe correct our own errors, the effect will not be lost upon\nothers. We are now far removed from the time when nothing but the\nfuture was talked of, the philosophy of the future, the happiness\nof the future, when it used to be said that the time was big with\nthe future, big with a new philosophy; nay, even with a new\nreligion; whereas, in truth, it was big with nothing but misery,\nas the event fully proved. ...\n\n{211}\n\nWe must not assail these delusions directly, nor imitate the bold\npreacher who is reported to have said--\"So we are supposed to be\nliving in the era of light! If so, then it is the devil who holds\nthe candle.\" On the contrary, you should enter into the current\nof the ideas of the age, and strive vigorously to turn it in\nfavor of religion, by taking advantage of prevailing errors and\ndelusions to edify your hearers.\n\nOne of the lectures of the Rev. P\u00e8re Ventura supplies a fine\nmodel of this style of preaching; which but for the sacredness of\nthe place where it was delivered, would undoubtedly have elicited\nroars of applause. He had been showing that the attempt to\nintroduce German philosophy into France was a great mistake,\ninasmuch as it was altogether unsuited to the positive, sensible,\nand Christian mind of the French people. He wound up as\nfollows:--\"Frenchmen, it is your bane that you do not value\nyourselves as you ought, that you wish to imitate foreigners;\nwhereas you are rich enough in resources of your own. Last\ncentury you imitated English politics and were not very\nsuccessful. Why do you now wish to borrow a philosophy from\nProtestant Germany? Frenchmen, be yourselves. ...\n{212}\nWhat! are you not rich enough in mind, in your wonderful talent\nfor comparison and for development, and in your extreme quickness\nat deducing consequences from the most remote premises? Not rich\nenough in the truth which eighteen centuries of Christianity have\npoured into your bosoms, and to which you owe your civilization\nand grandeur. Frenchmen, forbear aping others; you have only to\nbe yourselves in order to be great.\" (Prolonged sensation.)\n\nWe should become all things to all men, without ever being rude;\nbeing always simple, natural, true, and upright. These are\nqualities admired alike by all; by the little, and especially by\nthe great. ...\n\nThe wealthy residents in towns frequently go to spend a part of\nthe fine season in the country, where the cur\u00e9, in order to exalt\nreligion in their eyes--and the pastor a little as well--thinks\nhimself called upon to be at the expense of some grand phrases\nand flights of fancy. Now, such a course is neither adroit nor\napostolic. As to grand phrases, the visitors hear enough of them\nin the towns. Besides, they may judge that you have talked at\nthem, and may be offended. Moreover, it is not at all unlikely\nthat they may think you have mistaken your profession. ...\nInstead of acting in this way, do not seem to be aware of their\npresence, but speak boldly to your people in your usual style.\n{213}\nAvail yourself, nevertheless, of any fitting occasion to tell\nthem some useful truths; to draw their attention to some striking\nparable, like that of the poor man with the ewe lamb and the\nprophet Nathan, which may afford you a good opportunity of\nreaching the rich over the shoulders of the peasant. Be careful,\nhowever, always to do this in a kindly manner; both rich and poor\nwill then be more satisfied with you, and God Himself will concur\nin the same opinion.\n\nRemember that you have a difficult part to play in a small town.\nThere, you may not say all that may be said in a large city.\nThere, the most paltry things assume huge proportions. One of our\nbest preachers entirely failed of success through having omitted\nto repeat the _Ave Maria_ after the exordium, and for not having\nallowed his audience time to cough, to expectorate, and to take\nbreath. It is a wonder that he escaped without having his\northodoxy suspected.\n\nMoreover, the residents in small towns are excessively fond of\nfinely-turned phrases, rhetorical displays, and pomposity. They\ncall such rodomontade poetry, and think it sublime. You may adopt\nit occasionally by way of accompaniment. Nevertheless, don't be\nled into the delusion that any essay in that style will prevent\nthe _sturdy bourgeois_ from slandering his neighbor, from\ncheating him if he can, and from doing many other things of a\nsimilar kind.\n\n{214}\n\nGood manners have great weight in France, and many things are\nexcused in him who says them cleverly.\n\nA celebrated preacher was expected to preach a charity sermon in\none of the Paris churches. A crowded audience had already\nassembled, when, to their surprise and disappointment, they saw\nthe parish priest enter the pulpit, and heard him announce that,\nowing to the sudden indisposition of the eminent preacher, he was\nobliged to supply his place. Thereat the congregation rose and\nbegan to leave the church. Meanwhile the priest, seeing the\ncrowed on the move, and the anticipated collection disappearing\nwith them, suddenly arrested them with a _bon mot_. \"My\nbrethren,\" said he, \"when everybody has left the church, I will\nbegin.\" This so delighted the audience that they remained where\nthey were; the priest preached an excellent sermon, and the\ncollection was most liberal.\n\nWe should endeavor to acquire and practise all the breeding and\npoliteness of good society, with sincerity superadded. By birth,\nwe are for the most part children of the people; that is neither\na fault nor a disgrace; it forms an additional resemblance\nbetween ourselves and the Apostles. But our primary education was\nneglected, and we should fill up the gap by retaking from the\nworld those forms which it has borrowed from Christianity, and\nfill them up with the substance. Then we shall be powerful men.\n\n{215}\n\nThe present age has given us a great model of this tact,\nkindliness, and urbanity of speech in the person of the Cardinal\nde Cheverus.\n\n\"He generally spoke,\" says M. Hamon, [Footnote 18] \"with such\ntact and moderation, and so much to the purpose, that, far from\noffending any one, his audience always went away gratified. Some\nwere convinced, others were staggered, and all disabused more or\nless of their prejudices. When he addressed persons of a\ndifferent communion, his kind and affectionate words were the\nutterances of a heart overflowing with benevolence and charity.\nHe made his audience feel by the accents of his voice and his\nwhole deportment that it was a friend who was addressing them;\nnot merely a sincere, but a tender and devoted friend, who wished\nthem all possible good; and this persuasion, by disposing them to\nwelcome his words, opened the way for him to their hearts.\n\n    [Footnote 18: _Histoire du Cardinal de Cheverus_.]\n\n  \"His usual course was this: he first stated the question\n  clearly, expounding carefully the true doctrine of the Church;\n  eliminating therefrom all the erroneous interpretations,\n  wherewith heretics have travestied it in order that they might\n  decry it. He then adduced his proofs in a form so simple and\n  natural, combining them with reasons so completely within the\n  reach of ordinary intelligences, that no effort of the mind was\n  required to feel their force.\n{216}\n  He adhered above all to those proofs which speak to the heart;\n  setting forth all that is lovely and affecting, noble and\n  excellent in the Catholic creed. It is almost unnecessary to\n  add that his efforts were often crowned with deserved success.\"\n\nBut the exercise of tact and kindliness on our part, is specially\ncalled for in times of public commotion, when men's minds are\ndisturbed and their passions inflamed. Under such circumstances,\nwe should endeavor to be perfectly self-possessed ourselves, in\norder that we may be the better able to control others.\n\nBefore all, we should be just. The people, on their part, have an\nexquisite sense of justice. In depicting their faults or their\nexcesses, abstain from all exaggeration; rather say too little\nthan too much, and they will accuse themselves unsparingly.\nOutstep the limits of truth, and they will rebel, and you will\nforfeit all your influence over them. Further, take pains to\nexplain to them in detail how matters stand; show them that you\nare not an enemy, but a sincere friend and adviser, and they will\nresign themselves, even to suffering.\n\nA great orator has left on record a perfect model of this style\nof address. He is so little known that I cannot resist the desire\nof quoting him. Some time prior to the Revolution of '89, the\ndearness of bread had excited public indignation at Marseilles,\nexcesses had been committed, and still greater outrages were\napprehended.\n\n{217}\n\nMirabeau caused a notice, containing the following passages, to\nbe put up on all the walls of the town:--\n\n  \"My good friends, I am about to tell you what I think of the\n  occurrences which have taken place in this superb city during\n  the last few days. Listen to me: I shall not deceive you; my\n  only wish is to be of use to you.\n\n  \"Every one of you desires what is right, for you are all honest\n  people; but every one does not know how he ought to act. A man\n  is often deceived, even with respect to his own interests.\n\n  \"You complain chiefly of two things: of the price of bread and\n  the price of meat.\n\n  \"Let us consider the subject of the bread first; other matters\n  will come after.\n\n  \"Bread is the most indispensable article of food, and there are\n  two requisites regarding it: first, that there should be an\n  adequate supply; and, secondly, that it should not be too dear.\n\n  \"Well, my good friends, I have some cheering news to tell you.\n  There is no deficiency of wheat at the present moment. There\n  are 50,000 loads in the city, which will furnish bread for\n  three months and twelve days. But, my good friends, that is not\n  all; your administrators and the merchants still expect a large\n  additional supply. ...\n\n{218}\n\n  \"Be calm, therefore; be perfectly calm. Thank Providence for\n  giving you what others are deprived of.\n\n  \"You have heard it reported, and you yourselves know, that the\n  seasons generally have been bad throughout the country. The\n  people have to suffer elsewhere much more than you do here; yet\n  they bear it patiently.\n\n  \"I trust, therefore, that you will be contented and quiet, and\n  that your example may promote peace on all sides. Then, my good\n  friends, it will be said everywhere: The Marseillaise are a\n  brave people. The King will hear it--that excellent King whom\n  we should not afflict, whom we unceasingly invoke--even he will\n  hear of it, and will esteem and love you the more.\"\n\nAs might have been expected, this address produced the happiest\nresults. The people do not, cannot resist such appeals, unless\nsome mischievous demagogue interferes to rekindle their passions.\n\nLastly, I must say a few words on a subject which should be\ncandidly explained to the people. I allude to the money taken for\nthe use of chairs in our churches, and the difference which\nexists in the celebration of marriages and funerals for the rich\nand the poor.\n{219}\nThis is a matter which causes great estrangement from religion,\nand he who is not aware of the fact shows his ignorance of the\nfeelings prevailing among the people. It is desirable that all\nshould be set right on this point, both rich and poor; even the\nmost pious amongst us. Faith is no longer large enough to\ncomprehend these exigencies, and there is a wide-spread suspicion\nabroad that the Church is following the ruling passion of the\nmultitude--love of money. Besides, the people entertain strong\nviews on the subject of equality, and expect it in matters of\nreligion, if they do not meet with it anywhere else.\n\nHence it is not uncommon to hear reflections such as the\nfollowing among the operatives of our work shops:--\"Religion\nnowadays is no longer the religion of the Gospel. The Gospel\nloves and prefers the people; but religion as practised at\npresent prefers the rich and encourages felons.\n\n\"Take, for example, two men of humble parentage. The one remains\na workman and maintains his integrity all his life; he toils on\nand dies poor. The other becomes rich by very questionable means,\ndefrauds right and left, and dies wealthy. He is then placed in\nthe centre of the church, and surrounded with burning tapers and\nchanting priests. ... The poor devil of a workman, on the\ncontrary, who has been upright all his life, is borne in the rear\nof the parish priest, accompanied by two or three assistants,\nwith as many tapers, and is then pitched into a corner. . . . And\nyou would have me believe that this is the religion of Christ? It\nis no such thing; it is the religion of the priests: it is the\nreligion of money.\" ....\n\n{220}\n\nArguments like these have a powerful effect on persons who are\nincapable of sober reflection and who scarcely ever look beyond\nthe present state of existence. They harrow up the popular\ninstincts; and with the people instinct is everything. The man\nwho secures the command over their instincts may do any thing\nwith them; he who fails in that respect cannot manage them at\nall. ... It is most desirable, then, that the inequality\ncomplained of should be kindly and frankly explained.\n\nIn doing so, we might say something to the following effect:--\n  \"Dear friends, this subject is quite as painful to us as it can\n  be to you; but you are aware that there are some stern\n  necessities in life. The Church is poor nowadays, and yet has\n  many expenses to meet. The sacred fabrics must be maintained,\n  the wages of employ\u00e9s paid, suitable furniture provided, and we\n  ourselves, brethren, even we, the clergy, must live. ... Would\n  you like us to go begging our bread? Say, would you wish that?\n  Certainly not; for if you knew we were in need, you would be\n  the first to succor us, even though you had to stint\n  yourselves.\n{221}\n  Moreover, it is our duty to visit the poor; and would you\n  condemn us to the greatest possible misery, that of witnessing\n  want without being able to relieve it? Say, would you inflict\n  such torture upon us? Well, then, brethren, the money in\n  question goes to defray these expenses, to give us bread, and\n  to enable us to alleviate the necessities of the poor.\n\n  \"Instead of complaining, therefore, be content that the\n  weddings and burials of the wealthy should be made to provide\n  for these requisites. Moreover, brethren, let us lift up our\n  souls and look beyond the present life. Thank God, we are not\n  destined to spend all our existence on earth. You know full\n  well that this life is not all our life. There is another to\n  follow, where all the inequalities which we see here will be\n  perfectly adjusted, and when every one shall receive according\n  to his works and not according to his good fortune. Why, then,\n  attach so much importance to these matters? Surely you do not\n  think that God troubles Himself about them; that He counts the\n  number of tapers, or carpets, or chairs? ... God looks to see\n  whether a man has been upright and honest, faithfully\n  discharging his duties as a citizen and a Christian. Be all\n  that, my brethren, and He will not fail to give you a blissful\n  abode in heaven; which will be far better than the most\n  magnificent place in the church, either at your wedding or your\n  funeral.\"\n\n\n{222}\n\n    Chapter VIII.\n\n    Interest, Emotion, and Animation.\n\n  We should endeavor to excite Interest by Thoughts, by Sallies or\n    Epigrams, by Studies of Men and Manners.\n  The Truth should be animated.\n  The P\u00e8re Ravignan.\n  The P\u00e8re Lacordaire.\n  The Heart is too often absent.\n\n\nWe remarked in a former chapter that the preaching of the Divine\nword, especially on Sundays, should be to the people, wearied\nwith the toil and cares of the week, a rest, a joy; or, as the\nScripture says, a refreshment. ... It should be to them what a\nspring of water surrounded with verdure is to our soldiers worn\nout with marching, and scorched by the sun and burning sands of\nAfrica.\n\nUnder its breath, the souls of men should dilate, blossom, as it\nwere, and feel less unhappy; for is not the Gospel glad tidings?\nWas it not proclaimed at the Nativity of Christ:--\"I bring you\nglad tidings of great joy?\"\n\n{223}\n\nChristian pulpit instruction should be a sort of paternal\nintercourse enlivened with faith and charity--a family meeting\nwhere the different members come to talk over their labors and\ntheir trials, their fears and their hopes, and the bounty of that\nFather who is in Heaven, in such a way that each may go away\nbenefited and less unhappy, saying within himself:--\"I feel all\nthe better now. The words of the preacher have cheered me. Why\ndid he not speak a little longer? While he spoke, my soul was on\nfire.\"--\"Did not our heart burn within us, while He talked with\nus by the way?\"\n\nUnfortunately, this is no longer the case. The sermon is looked\nupon as something cold, official, and tedious; or merely as a\nnecessary accompaniment of the service. It is thought wearisome\nto listen to, but must needs be endured for the sake of example.\nGenerally speaking, moreover, the greater part of the faithful\nare absent, and the majority of the pious souls present consists\nof females. These place themselves as much at their ease as\npossible on a couple of chairs, and resign themselves to undergo\nthe sermon. When it is over, they remark that it was either a\ngood or an indifferent discourse, and then depart absolutely as\nthey came; none feeling in the least bound to practise what has\nbeen enjoined.\n\n{224}\n\nPreaching, indeed, is a sorry trade. The preacher studies and\nmeditates on his subject, composes his sermon, and then commits\nit to memory. What a task! He then goes into the pulpit, and is\ngrieved to perceive that the minds of his audience are\nabstracted--that they look like persons who are being bored; so\nmuch so, that he is glad if even by a nod of assent they do not\nprove that they have been doing anything else rather than\nlistening to him. For the sermon is undoubtedly regarded in the\nlight of an infliction; a species of forced labor. When the\nfaithful learn that there is to be no sermon, they hail the\nannouncement with pleasure, and seem to say with great glee:\n\"Another sermon got over!\" Hence one frequently hears the\nremark:--\"I shall not go to such a mass because there is\npreaching there.\" Truly, all this is sad, very sad, as regards\nthe preaching of the Divine word.\n\nBut who is to blame, ourselves or the faithful? In the first\nplace, it is quite certain that in France there is a decided\ndistaste for any thing serious, or that requires attention and\nmental effort. Nothing is cared for nowadays but what is amusing;\nhence the most highly remunerated people amongst us are those who\ncater for the amusement of others, some of whom make fabulous\nincomes. How to be amused is, in fact, the great question of the\nday, insomuch that you hear the remark on all sides:--\"I will not\ngo there again, for the entertainment did not amuse me.\"\n\nThe malady of _ennui_ pervades the social atmosphere and all who\nmove in it, while any thing serious suggests wearisomeness and\ndisgust. This state of mind is the result of excessive\nselfishness. For three-fourths of their time, men are bored about\nthemselves personally. They then feel the want of some excitement\nto get rid of the incubus, and generally resort to whatever is\nromantic in search of it.\n\n{225}\n\nAgain, there is scarcely any prevailing love of the truth; on the\ncontrary, it is rather dreaded, and men manifest a strange\npusillanimity when confronted with it. Whenever a stern truth is\naddressed to others, they readily applaud, and think it quite\nright that this and that vice should be strongly reprehended; but\nwhen it is brought home to themselves, they frown, question the\npropriety of the censure, and can see no harm in their own\ndelinquencies. Besides which, there is a universal tendency to\npass judgment on every thing sacred and profane, and a sermon is\ncriticised as if it were nothing more than an ordinary literary\nproduction. ...\n\nThese are shortcomings on the part of the congregation, but are\nthey wholly responsible for them? The blame is sometimes cast on\nthe world, on the absorbing passion for frivolity, and on the\nliterature of the day; but may there not be a little fault\nelsewhere? It is our duty to look into this subject; and as we\nare called upon to proclaim the truth to others, it behoves us to\nadminister it in the first place to ourselves. This will be a\nreal charity; the more so, because if we are not told it to our\nfaces, we may rest assured that it will be repeated with\nadditions behind our backs.\n\n{226}\n\nI hasten, then, to state it. There is a large amount of talent in\nParis, and no lack of clergymen who know how to draw, to\ninterest, and to direct an audience. In the provinces, too, how\nmany preachers are there, who, though little known, do a vast\namount of good! Christian eloquence is still one of the glories,\none of the purest and most indisputable glories of France. As a\nwitty writer has said:--\"God has evidently made France His spoilt\nchild. The misfortune is that the child does not always profit by\nthe parent's indulgence.\" Unquestionably, there are still\napostolic preachers amongst us, whose words are effectual in\nstirring up and saving the souls of men; nevertheless, is it not\nequally sure, that our usual style of preaching is deficient in\ninterest and perspicuity, is too monotonous and didactic, is made\nup of a misuse of reasoning and rhetorical phraseology, is\nwanting in heart and soul, and, above all, in that tone of\nconviction which lends to speech its paramount power? ...\n\nIn the first place, we must interest our hearers; for that is an\nindispensable condition of benefiting them. ... People generally\nrequire to be interested. They may be rather exacting on that\npoint: it may be a weakness on their part; but what is to be\ndone? Must we not become all things to all men? Must we not take\nthem as they are? It is constantly being repeated that society is\nunsound; then, should we not overlook some things in those who\nare ailing?\n{227}\nAfter all, the question is not to discover whether they are right\nor wrong. The vital question is to save them, and how to get them\nto listen to us, and to cause Gospel truth to reach their ears,\ntheir minds, and their hearts to that end. Why should we take so\nmuch trouble in preparing sermons if they are not to be listened\nto? In that case, it becomes nothing more than a disheartening,\nprofitless labor. As somebody once remarked:--\"They teach me to\ncompose magnificent sermons. I only wish they would also teach me\nhow to make people come and hear them.\"\n\nOur aim then should be to secure a hearing. To attain that, we\nmust first excite interest. ...\n\nThere are different ways of doing this. We may interest our\nhearers by well-digested studies of men and manners, conveyed in\nvarious styles of unsophisticated and sympathetic language; by\nspirited sallies; by metaphors drawn from the incidents of\nevery-day life; and by heart-stirring impulses and emotions. ...\n\nIn the first place, in order to interest an audience you must\nnever lose sight of them, but keep them always in your wake. They\nshould be made to think and feel with you, and even to anticipate\nor divine your train of thought; for that will gratify them. At\nother times, prepare a surprise for them, and that too will\nplease them.\n\n{228}\n\nWhen you perceive that the attention of your hearers is flagging,\nit may be stimulated by a lively speech or sally; such as shall\ngladden their hearts, and draw from them that gentle smile which\nbespeaks approving assent. Frenchmen are delighted with this\nstyle of address; and surely there is nothing to urge against it.\nWith so many depressing cares to battle with, one should rejoice\nto see them inspirited a little under the breath of the Divine\nword. Moreover, it may be made a useful medium for communicating\nsome wholesome truths.\n\nSallies of this kind are greatly relished by the French people,\neven when directed against themselves.\n\nAll great orators have employed them. Saint Chrysostom himself,\nalways so grave and dignified, did not disdain to use them. He\nthus wittily derides the vanity of the male sex of his\ntime:--\"Look at that young man. He walks delicately on the tips\nof his toes for fear of soiling his shoes. My friend, if you\ndread the mud so much on account of your shoes, put them on your\nhead and they will be safe.\"\n\nIn another place he assails the vanity of the women. \"Why are you\nso proud of your fine clothes? You reply: 'Only look at this\nstuff and see how beautiful it is: touch it, and feel how silky\nit is.' True: but that is no merit of yours. 'But how exquisitely\nthis dress fits me!' True, again, but the merit of that is due to\nthe sempstress.\"\n\n{229}\n\n\"Alas! for human weakness,\" he exclaimed; \"it takes the produce\nof a plant, an animal, or a vile insect, bedizens itself\ntherewith, then goes abroad and asks the world's admiration,\nsaying: Look at me, for I am worth something to-day.\"\n\nAll our great modern orators, both of the tribune and pulpit,\nabound in trenchant sallies; which almost always carry\nconviction, because they are universally understood.\n\n\"France,\" says M. de Falloux, \"repels equally those men who can\ndo every thing, and those who can do nothing.\"\n\nThe Rev. P\u00e8re Lacordaire excels in epigrams of this kind. He has\na peculiar talent in that line, and has succeeded in winning over\nmany of his hearers by his pithy humor.\n\nOne day his object was to show that rationalism does not possess\nthat charity which distinguishes the Christian faith and\nministry. Instead of entering into a long dissertation on the\nsubject, he expressed himself thus:--\n\n  \"I shall only say a few words about rationalism in connection\n  with the topic before us. I have never heard of a rationalist\n  having been beaten by the Cochin-Chinese. Minds like theirs are\n  too highly polished and too ingenious to risk encountering such\n  distinction in behalf of the truth. It will, therefore, be time\n  enough to trouble ourselves about them, when the next vacancy\n  occurs in the Academy. We are too well bred to offer them any\n  thing else than a laurel branch, which they unquestionably\n  deserve.\"\n\n{230}\n\nOn another occasion he remarked with a smile, addressing those\nwho affected unbelief:--\"Yes, sirs, I admit that you have mind,\nthat you have plenty of mind; but know this, that God has endowed\nyou with it--a clear proof that He entertains no fear of it.\"\n\nEven the Rev. P\u00e8re Ravignan, who is generally so austere, ever\nand anon adopts a similar style.\n\nOne day, in recapitulating the philosophical errors of the\npresent time, he remarked:--\"Rationalism is another error, and\nhas the largest following. It comprises a class of thinkers who\nare devoid of faith; men who are eternally seeking but never\nfind; jaded in their search by the oscillations of doubt, the\nsport of grand and pretty phrases. According to them, the day is\nat length about to dawn; the solution of all questions is at\nhand. If, by any chance, we may have still to wait a long time\nfor it ... in that case, you must exercise patience; the religion\nof the future will come at last;\" [then, taking off his cap and\nbowing ironically, he added,] \"for which, of course, we are much\nobliged.\"\n\n{231}\n\nSimilar points are to be met with throughout the discourses of M.\nLecourtier. Addressing wives, he says:--\"Do not play the master\nat home. I know of no one so ridiculous as the wife who does so,\nunless it be the husband who obeys her.\" Sallies like these are\ntreasured up, and serve to recall to memory a whole discourse.\nMoreover, they enlarge the heart and dispose it to subsequent\nnobler impulses. ...\n\n\"To do children good,\" says a well-known writer, \"they must be\ninterested: they must be made to laugh, to cry, and then sent\naway happy.\" Are not the people still children? Are we not all\nchildren still, in more than one respect?\n\nLet it not be supposed that in what has been said above, it is\nintended that any person whatever should be ridiculed or held up\nto contempt. On the contrary, irony should never be employed\nexcept against prejudices, vices, and crimes.\n\nAnother way of exciting interest is by lively, skilful, witty,\nand delicate sketches of men and manners. ... The Frenchman is\nfond of being spoken to about himself, about his occupations, his\ncharacteristics, his trials, even his foibles and caprices. This\nfact is too much lost sight of. We descant on the Hebrews, the\nJews, the Egyptians, Midianites, Philistines, and other nations\nof the past. Set all that aside, and speak more freely of the\nGospel and Frenchmen, and of Frenchmen and the Gospel; of\nFrenchmen of the present age, of their virtues and vices. Do\nthis, and you will not fail to interest your hearers: you will\ninterest them in spite of themselves.\n\n{232}\n\nM. Lecourtier transcends in such portraiture. Hence, as before\nremarked, his sermons always attract crowded audiences; and he is\nnever listened to with more attention then when delineating the\ninner history of a man or woman of the nineteenth century.\nOccasionally some are offended, and declare that they will not\ncome to hear him again; but they seldom keep their word, for they\nfind his discourses so interesting that they cannot stay away.\n\nHumility is not our forte; on the contrary, we are all very fond\nof engaging the attention of others. Indeed, we prefer ill-usage\nto neglect; an instance of which is afforded by a letter\naddressed to a celebrated man by an obscure author, wherein he\nwrote:--\"I entreat you to be kind enough to refute me, and, if\nneed be, to abuse me, for that will bring me into notice.\"\n\nStudies of men and manners are well-timed everywhere. They are\nunderstood by and interest all, because they draw forth a\nrepetition of the speech made by the woman of Samaria:--\"I have\nseen a man who hath told me all things that ever I did.\"\n\nNevertheless, we must not stop there. After depicting what is\nevil, we must combat, and overcome, and drive it away by the\nforce of logic, and by the impulses of thought and heart\ncombined. In this, also, we may find it easy to excite interest.\n\n{233}\n\nEvery truth should be proved. The French mind is pre-eminently\nlogical; but it is also prompt and quick, and likes neither that\nwhich is long, nor that which is heavy; nor that which affirms\nwithout proving, nor yet that which proves too much.\n\nState your principles, therefore, in a clear and concise form,\nand then demonstrate them in prompt and vigorous language; making\nyour audience feel from the outset that you are master of the\nsituation; thereby precluding the possibility of resistance on\nthe part of the ingenuous or even of the disingenuous, and that\nwhile listening to you they may be led to repeat the remark of\nthe great Cond\u00e9 when he saw Bourdaloue ascending the\npulpit:--\"Attention! voil\u00e0 l'ennemi.\"\n\nSuch however, is far from being the case with ourselves. ... The\nfaithful are fed with nothing but frigid, precise, dogmatic and\neven unintelligible discourses, which are supposed to convey\nsolid instruction. But what if it be so, if the discourses are\nneither listened to nor understood? Dry bread is also solid, yet\nnobody likes it only, any more than you do yourself; and if you\nprovide nothing but such food at your table, rest assured that\nyou will find but few guests.\n\nWe should animate or impassion reason itself. Demosthenes did\nthis, and so did all great orators. The Rev. P\u00e8re Ravignan, whose\nreasoning is always so forcible and logical, gives sensation and\nlife to his arguments in a masterly manner.\n\n{234}\n\nIn his sermon on the divinity of the Lord Jesus Christ, after\ndemonstrating that we must admit the mystery of the Incarnation\nor else submit to many other mysteries, he subjoins:--\"But the\nobjection is raised that a mystery is inexplicable, insolvable.\nSo be it; nevertheless not to admit it, is to throw every thing\ninto the most frightful chaos. ... Then is Christianity false;\nthe world believes what is false; has been converted,\nregenerated, civilized, by what is false; there is falsehood in\nthe faith, in the love, and in all the other inspirations of the\nChristian religion; falsehood in all the blessings which have\nbeen conferred upon humanity in the name of God the Redeemer;\nfalsehood in the heroism of innumerable martyrs; falsehood in all\nthe master-minds who have adorned Christianity; falsehood in the\nwhole chain of science, zeal, devotion, and superhuman virtues;\nfalsehood in the entire series of the ages of the Church, in all\nits monuments, in all its testimonies; falsehood in the Catholic\npriesthood and in the sacred ministry of all centuries; falsehood\nin the happiness springing from faith and a pure conscience;\nfalsehood in the pulpit; falsehood on my lips and in my heart.\nWhat! does your light and disdainful tongue find a lesser mystery\nin all these consequences which necessarily result from your\nprinciples? ME THEY TERRIFY.\"\n\n{235}\n\nWe should, moreover, attempt in some way to put the truth into\naction, making it to come and go, to speak, question, and reply;\nand should always keep the scene so fully occupied that the minds\nof the audience may not be diverted therefrom for an instant. In\nthis respect also, the Rev. P\u00e8re Lacordaire supplies us with an\nexcellent model.\n\nIn his discourse on the _Intellectual Society founded by the\nChurch_, he points out the efforts which have been made by the\nworld to destroy the immutability of her doctrine, in a style\ntruly dramatic:--\"When every thing else on earth is subject to\nchange, what a weighty prerogative must the possession by others\nof an unchangeable doctrine be in the estimation of those who do\nnot themselves possess it! A doctrine which some feeble old men,\nin a place called the Vatican, keep secure under the key of their\ncabinet, and which, without any other safeguard, has resisted the\nprogress of time, the conceits of sages, the machinations of\nsovereigns, the downfall of empires, and maintained throughout\nits unity and identity. A standing miracle this, and a claim\nwhich all ages, jealous of a glory which disdained theirs, have\nattempted to gainsay and silence. One after another they have\napproached the Vatican, and knocked at the gate with buskin or\nboot. Whereat Doctrine has come forth under the form of a feeble\nand decrepit septuagenarian, and has asked:--\n\n\"'What do you want of me?'\n\n\"'Change.'\n\n{236}\n\n\"'I change not.'\n\n\"'But every thing in the world has changed. Astronomy has\nchanged; philosophy has changed; empire has changed; why are you\nalways the same?'\n\n\"'Because I come from God, and God is always the same.'\n\n\"'But know this, that we are masters. We have a million of men\nunder arms, we will draw the sword, and the sword which\ndemolishes thrones may easily be made to behead an old man like\nyourself, and to tear into fragments the leaves of a book.'\n\n\"'Attempt it. Blood is the aroma which gives me new youth.'\n\n\"'Well, then, accept half of my purple; join in a sacrifice to\npeace, and let us go shares.'\n\n\"'Keep thy purple, O Caesar; to-morrow we will bury you in it,\nand will chant over you the _Alleluia_ and _De profundis_, which\nnever change.'\"\n\nThis is something which everybody can understand, and which will\nalways be listened to with pleasure, and with profit to the\ntruth.\n\nBut further: It is not enough to speak to the mind. That goes a\nvery little way, however powerful our speech may be; for the mind\nis merely the vestibule of the soul. We must penetrate to the\nsanctuary of the temple, namely, to the heart. The heart is\nnearly the whole man, and we are hardly any thing apart from the\nheart. It is the heart which believes--\"with the heart man\nbelieveth\"--and it is the heart which begets virtues. Moreover,\nthe heart is what God demands from us.\n\n{237}\n\nBut in order to speak to the heart, we must have a heart\nourselves, and make use of it too. Now, it is questionable in\nthese days whether many preachers have a heart. No one can\nperceive it in them; so great is the care which they take not to\nexpose even a corner of it, lest by so doing they might derange\nthe massive chain of their arguments. And, besides, who knows but\nthat it might subject them to the charge of being deficient in\ndignity? In fact, the heart appears to have come down from the\npulpit, and fears to occupy it again ... it is no longer allowed\nto play a part there, lest it might prove disconcerting. It is\nnow regarded with suspicion, and God must have been mistaken when\nhe said:--\"My son, give me thine heart.\" The general notion seems\nto be, that nothing more is required in order to do men good than\nclearly or obscurely to demonstrate the truth to them. But\nknowing and doing are as widely apart as heaven and earth, and\nthe distance between the two can only be surmounted by the heart.\n... Nothing, indeed, profits an audience so much; nothing is so\nsuccessful as the windings, the boundings of the heart, even when\nintroduced in the middle of an argument.\n\n{238}\n\nAll those who heard the discourse of P\u00e8re Ventura on the\n_Philosophical Reason of Modern Times_, will recall to mind the\nprofound and sympathetic impression which he produced when, after\nhaving spoken of a well-known philosopher, he added:--\"But, after\nall, he was endowed with a rare intellect, a genial heart, and a\nnoble disposition. Deceived and led astray as he had been by the\nfalse doctrines of the day, he nevertheless eventually recognized\nand avowed that he had made a sad bargain when he exchanged the\ntenets of the faith for the vain conceptions of science. Some\nmoments before death, he shed tears over his beloved daughter,\nwho had just partaken of the holy communion for the first time.\nLet me believe that his avowal and tears were acts of faith, of\nrepentance, and of love, which availed toward his salvation at\nthe hands of a merciful God. Let me, I say, believe this; for it\nis a consolation to me to believe that my brethren have found\nagain, even in death, that grace which I hope to find myself with\na benevolent God.\"\n\nYes, if we appealed to the heart we should frequently discover\nhow good, true, and sincere it is, and how little is required to\nchange it:--often nothing more than a word, a reminiscence, a\ntear, a look, a sigh. And yet how sadly has this easy and\neffectual means been neglected! ... Every body does not\nunderstand a fine dissertation, but every body does understand a\ngood sentiment.\n\n{239}\n\nTo sum up: the sermon should be interesting, animated, vivifying;\nten years of a lifetime should be comprised in a sermon of thirty\nminutes duration. Speak to the mind, to the good sense, to the\nimagination, to the hearts of men, in words that breathe and\nthoughts that burn; laying hold of them, as it were, by whatever\nstirs the lively and profound emotions of the soul: by grief and\nby joy, by hatred and by love, by tears and by consolations, by\nhell and by heaven. Let your speech be always powerful and\ntriumphant. Whatever you attempt, do well. If you reason, let\nyour reasoning be sharp, to the point, and decisive. If you\nexercise charity, let it flow in broad streams, that it may\ninundate and cheer all around. If you give vent to anger, let it\nescape in glowing and irresistible sallies. If you are ever at a\nloss what other influence to invoke, then appeal to pity. After\nsuch outbursts, there should be intervals of calm to tone down\nasperities, to smooth to softness any bitterness, and to express\nregret for having used them; but in reality to make a deeper\nimpression by touching a different chord of the heart. These\ncontrasts of thought and sentiment always produce a powerful\neffect. M. Berryer is well aware of this, and often avails\nhimself of them with the greatest success.\n\n{240}\n\nIn the celebrated discussion on the affairs of the East, after\nhaving exhibited the humiliation of France, he added:--\"Let no\nmore be said upon what has been done; above all, let us never,\nnever again recall the humiliating admissions which have reached\nus both from London and Constantinople. (Profound sensation.)\n\n\"Let that despatch, wherein Lord Palmerston is stated to have\nsaid that France would yield, and that the Eastern question would\nbe settled in accordance with the wishes of England, be buried in\noblivion. ... Is there a country whose ambassadors have\ncognizance of such language, and not only retain their posts, but\nbecome ministers? (Bravo, bravo!) That country is certainly not\nFrance. (Renewed applause.) England cannot have said so. Those\nwho saw us even at Waterloo could not say such a thing. ...\"\n\nBut after this suspension of arms, we must return to the charge\nwith redoubled nerve and bravery, implanting our weapon in the\nheart, and turning it again and again within the wound. In other\nwords, our train of thought should be still more energetic, our\nsentiments more powerful; embodied sometimes in a dramatic or\ntragic form, wherein truth and error are brought together in a\nfierce and obstinate hand-to-hand struggle; truth being made to\noverthrow error and to triumph over vice, and then to raise the\nerring and the transgressor, to embrace them, and to bear them\naway with herself to virtue, to happiness, to heaven. ...\n\n{241}\n\nThe following extract from M. de Cormenin furnishes an admirable\nsummary of the foregoing chapter:--\n\n  \"Select with a quick and confident instinct, from among the\n  methods available to you, the method of the day; which may not\n  be the most solid, but which, considering the disposition of\n  men's minds, the nature of the matter in hand, and the\n  peculiarity of concomitant circumstances, is the best adapted\n  for making an impression upon your audience.\n\n  \"Take strong hold of their attention. Stir up their pity or\n  indignation, their sympathies or their antipathies, or their\n  pride. Appear to be animated by their breath, all the while\n  that you are communicating yours to them. When you have, in\n  some degree, detached their souls from their bodies, and they\n  come and group themselves of their own accord at the foot of\n  the pulpit, riveted beneath the influence of your glance, then\n  do not dally with them, for they are yours; your soul having,\n  as may be truly said, passed into theirs. Look now how they\n  follow its ebb and flow! how they will as you will! how they\n  act as you act! But persist, give no rest; press your discourse\n  home, and you will soon see all bosoms panting because yours\n  pants; all eyes kindling because yours emit flame, or filling\n  with tears because you grow tender. You will see all the\n  hearers hanging on your lips through the attractions of\n  persuasion; or, rather, you will see nothing, for you yourself\n  will be under the spell of your own emotion; you will bend, you\n  will succumb, under your own genius, and you will be the more\n  eloquent the less effort you make to appear so.\n\n{242}\n\n  \"Be clear, exact, concise, impartial.\n\n  \"Do not attempt to say everything, but what you do say, say well.\"\n\n\n{243}\n\n    Chapter IX.\n\n    The Power and Accent of Conviction.\n\n\n  The Divine Word has always been the first Power in the World.\n  The Gospel still the first of Books.\n  There can be no Christian Eloquence\n    without the Accent of Personal Conviction.\n\nHitherto, we may be said to have treated merely of human\ninstrumentality; we must now consider our subject in a higher\npoint of view. Reason, imagination, and sentiment are necessary\nqualifications to success in our vacation; but we require besides\nthese the power of God, because our aim is to lay hold of and to\ndirect the souls of men. Now, as that mighty genius Bossuet has\nremarked:--\"There is nothing so indomitable as the heart of man.\nWhen I see it subdued, I adore.\" And why? Because he recognized\nin such submission a superhuman agency.\n\nThis power we possess in the Word, which is the power of God;\nbefore which every head must bow, and every knee bend, whether on\nearth, in heaven, or in hell. Armed with the Divine word, our\npower is immense; only, in order to wield it, we must ourselves\nbe thoroughly penetrated thereby, and, above all, be able to\nconvince others that we are so. It must be felt, seen, and\nacknowledged that God is with us.\n\n{244}\n\nThe Divine word is the foremost power in the world. It has\nwithstood and overcome every other power. ... It has uttered its\nvoice everywhere: in the catacombs, at the foot of the scaffold,\nunder the axe of the executioner, and within the jaws of wild\nbeasts. It has spoken while the feet of the speakers have been\ndrenched in blood. ...\n\nDuring the middle ages, mighty barons, sheltered behind\nimpregnable strongholds, had cast the network of their sway over\nthe whole of France, and silence was imposed on all lips.\nNevertheless, on more than one occasion did the Divine word, in\nthe guise of a priest or monk, venture to ascend the steps of\nthose redoubtable fortresses; and its voice alone sufficed to\ninspire fear in the breasts of men clad in armor of steel.\n\nThere was a king in whom power seemed incarnate. That king was\nLouis XIV. He dared to say:--\"L'\u00e9tat, la France, c'est moi.\"\nUnder his inspiring look, military genius triumphed in war;\npoetry begat the sublimest conceptions; canvas spoke; marble was\nanimated; and the arts replenished even the gardens of his royal\nabode with master-piece s of skill.\n\n{245}\n\nOne Sunday, Louis XIV., surrounded by his court, took his seat in\nthe chapel at Versailles, when the preacher boldly uttered from\nthe pulpit those terrible words: \"Woe to the rich! Woe to the\ngreat!\" whereat the monarch lowered his eyes and the courtiers\nmurmured. ... After the sermon, there was some talk of\nreprimanding the priest for his temerity; but the King remarked,\nwith a justice which does him honor:--\"Gentlemen, the preacher\nhas done his duty; it behoves us now to do ours.\"\n\nWe may recognize herein the power of the Divine word; and it is\nthat same word which is on our lips.\n\nWhat, indeed, is the word of man even in the mouth of the boldest\norator, even when set forth in all the brilliancy of its power,\nwhen compared with the Divine word? ... Much has been said of the\nforce of Mirabeau's famous apostrophe:--\"The communes of France\nhave decided on deliberating. We have heard of the designs which\nhave been suggested to the King; and you, who are not allowed to\nbe his organ with the National Assembly--you who possess neither\nthe standing nor the option, nor the right of speaking--go and\ntell your master that we are here by the power of the people, and\nthat it shall not be wrested from us except at the point of the\nbayonet.\" [Footnote 19]\n\n    [Footnote 19:  The authenticity of this statement has been\n    questioned.]\n\n{246}\n\nThis speech has been eulogized as grand, bold, and even\naudacious; but, what does it amount to? Any priest might do as\nmuch, and say something far better, with greater truth and less\narrogance; for there is no priest, however poor and humble he may\nbe, who might not say:--\"We are here in God's name, and here we\nintend to remain, and we will speak in spite of guns and\nbayonets.\" ...\n\nBut the fact is, we are not adequately convinced of our own\npower, and of the superiority which we possess over every thing\naround us; for, with nothing else in our hands but that little\nbook which is called the Gospel, we may bring the world to our\nfeet; inasmuch as the Gospel is, and will continue to be, as\nregards mankind generally, the first of books.\n\nThere are not wanting those who taunt us in this style:--\"Ye men\nof a past age, ye retrogrades, follow in the wake of your own\nage; strive to progress. We, on our part, have been constantly\nadvancing, especially within the last two centuries ... we have\ngained ground.\" ... To this we are justified in replying:--\"Very\ntrue; the human mind has developed; you have worked hard; you\nhave stirred up thought; you have filled our libraries with\nfirst-rate books; there have been some profound thinkers and\nsublime geniuses among you; and you have given birth to many\nadmirable ideas. All this we admit; nevertheless, show us a book\nsuperior to our Gospel, or one which will even bear comparison\nwith it. Tell us where it is to be found. You talk of progress,\nand bid us follow you; but it is we who are in advance, and you\nwho are behind. ... Begin your studies afresh; do something\nbetter; and then come to us again, and we will see. In the\nmeantime, we occupy the foremost place, and are determined to\nhold it.\"\n\n{247}\n\nOur power, we maintain, is far above that of any earthly weapons;\nfor the Christian preacher is backed by eighteen centuries of\nlearning and virtue, which believed what he declares by more than\nten millions of martyrs, who died to attest the truth of what he\nproclaims; and, behind all that, he is supported by the mighty\nvoice of God which says to him:--\"Speak, and be not afraid, for I\nam with thee.\"\n\nIt behoves us, therefore, to be thoroughly persuaded of the power\nwhich the Divine word confers upon us. But, besides this, we must\nmake our hearers feel that we are so endowed. They must be\nimpressed, while listening to us, that we verily and indeed speak\nin God's name--that we are not men who have merely cogitated or\nmused in their studies, and then come forth to propound their own\nideas; but that we are commissioned from on high to proclaim to\nmankind the laws and promises of God, before whom we ourselves\nprofoundly bow. They must read all this in our whole deportment,\nin our voice, our gestures, and, above all, in our charity. In a\nword, we must possess _the accent of conviction_, that accent\nwhich believes, speaks, arrests, and alarms.\n\n{248}\n\nThe accent of conviction is made up of a mixture of faith, power,\nand love combined; the combination forming a characteristic which\nis at once simple, pious, and grand, redolent of inspiration and\nsanctity. It is the power, the life of speech; the sacred fire,\nor what Mirabeau styles _divinity_ in eloquence. \"I have never\nheard any one speak,\" said he, referring to Barnave, \"so long, so\nrapidly, and so well; but there is no divinity in him.\" The\naccent of conviction is the magic of speech ... that which puts\nargument to silence, withdraws all attention from the preacher,\nand fixes it solely on what he says; or rather, on what God says\nthrough him.\n\nUnhappily, we are very backward in this respect. There is faith\nundoubtedly in our souls; but it is not always manifest in our\nspeech. ... How, then, can we expect to make others believe what\nwe do not seem to them to believe ourselves?\n\nWe have to deal with a light, reasoning, and somewhat sceptical\nworld, accustomed to regard every one as merely acting a part ...\nand if you do not possess the accent of conviction, it will\neither suspect you of hypocrisy, or will brand you by admiring\nhow well you ply _the trade_, and how cleverly you play your\ngame.\n\n{249}\n\nThere is a remark very common nowadays, which is much to be\nregretted. If one speaks of a preacher, he is immediately asked:\n\"Has he faith?\" which means: Does he appear to believe what he\nsays? Should the reply be: \"No; ... but he is a fine speaker;\"\nthe rejoinder generally is: \"Then I shall not go to listen to\nhim; for I want to hear somebody who has faith.\" This observation\nis not intended to imply any doubt of the inward faith of the\npreacher, but that he preaches as if he did not believe what he\nutters.\n\nLet us, however, do the world this justice, that when it meets\nwith the accent of conviction--the bold accent of faith, as Saint\nChrysostom calls it,--it is deeply impressed thereby. The\npreacher who believes and speaks out of that belief, astounds,\nstaggers, and overcomes the gainsayers. A few words uttered with\nthe accent of conviction go much further than many long sermons.\nHow, indeed, can any prevail against one in whom God is felt to\ndwell? ... Fine language, talent, imagination, brilliant\nargumentative powers--all these are common enough amongst us, and\nwe are quite accustomed to them; but what is rare, what is\nunlooked for, what carries every thing before it, is the language\nof a faith and of a heart which seems to echo the voice of God\nHimself.\n\n{250}\n\nTwo years ago, the late pious and gallant Captain Marceau was\npresent at a meeting of operatives in Paris, many of whom were\nunbelievers and wrong-headed men. He felt moved to address them,\nand the impression which he produced was almost magical. He had\nnever before spoken in public; nevertheless, he did so on the\noccasion referred to with that accent of conviction and candor\nwhich finds its way at once to the heart, overcoming all\nresistance, and sometimes seeming to take away one's breath.\n\n  \"My friends,\" said he, \"there are doubtless some among you who\n  are not yet Christians, and who have no love for religion. I\n  was once as ungodly as you are--perhaps more so; for no one has\n  hated Christianity more cordially than I have done. I am bound,\n  however, to do it this justice, that while I was not a\n  Christian, that is, till I was twenty-three years old, I was\n  unhappy, profoundly unhappy. ... Up to that period, my friends,\n  I had not lived. No, it was not living ... I worried myself,\n  or, rather, my passions drew or drove me hither and thither,\n  and carried me away; but I did not live ... I was a machine ...\n  but I was not a man. ...\"\n\nStrange to say, scarcely any attention is paid to this accent of\nconviction, which is the soul of all eloquence; more especially\nof sacred eloquence. Those destined to proclaim the Divine word\nare instructed in every thing else but this. ... Hence the\nlanguage from the pulpit is often cold, monotonous, turgid,\nstiff, cramped, conventional, perfunctory; savoring of a formal\ncompliment, but of nothing to indicate the effusion of a genial\nsoul, and without any of those felicitous sallies of the heart,\nthose insinuating and familiar tones, as F\u00e9n\u00e9lon calls them,\nwhich produce in you almost a Divine impression.\n\n{251}\n\nAnd yet there are many pious priests amongst us, many who are\ntruly men of God. Still, such is the deplorable power of routine,\nthat their piety seems sometimes to abandon them when in the\npulpit--the very place where it should be most conspicuous.\n\nLike myself, you have, doubtless, in the course of your life,\noften met with one of these estimable priests, full of faith and\ncharity. His countenance alone did you good, and his words\ncheered you alike in familiar conversation and in the\nconfessional. ... The same individual occupies the pulpit: you\nare delighted to see him there, and forthwith set yourself to\nlisten to him with earnest attention; but, alas! you no longer\nrecognize him: he is no longer the same; what he utters is no\nlonger the word of life. You exclaim: \"What has become of my\nmodel pastor, my saint?\"  ... for you hear nothing now but\ndeclamation, or a sing-song speech ... a uniform tone which\nutters the denunciation: \"Depart ye cursed into ever lasting\nfire,\" and the invitation: \"Come, ye blessed of my Father,\" in\nthe same strain. ... You hear what you have heard a hundred times\nbefore--a poor man who, with a painful sense of effort, is doing\nhis best to evoke refractory thoughts and phrases, and are almost\nled to doubt whether he is not acting a part.\n\n{252}\n\nThis monotony, this dull uniformity, this mannerism must be\nabandoned, and we must resume our personality--our own minds and\nhearts--enlarged and inspired by the breath of God; ...\notherwise, by persisting in that dismal tone, that frigidly\nphilosophical style, that finely spun phraseology, that speech\nwithout emphasis, which characterizes the generality of our\nsermons nowadays, we shall wholly lose our time, our pains, and\nperchance our souls also. ...\n\nCan it, indeed, be that we are wanting in a just sense of our\nmission, and that we do not adequately estimate the object which\nthose who speak in God's name should have in view? The end of\npreaching is to bring back the souls of men to the Creator.\n\nIn this respect also, it is to be feared that the philosophical\nspirit, and a tendency to controversy, have turned us aside from\nour proper aim and the end of all our efforts. Take away the\naccent of conviction from a sermon, divest it of energetic faith,\nand what is left thereof to the hearers? Mere sounding phrases,\nand nothing more.\n\nNow, let me ask, are you aware of the enemies with whom you have\nto deal, and the difficulties which you have to contend against?\nThe object set before you is to redeem the hearts of men, who in\ntheir thirst, their rage for happiness, have given themselves up\nto the sensual, visible, intoxicating things which surround them.\n{253}\nYou will have to do battle with the human passions: to say to\npride, be abased; to voluptuousness, be accursed; to the love of\ngold, renounce your avarice and be bountiful ... and you fancy\nthat you will succeed in the encounter by the use of mere\nphrases; forgetting, perchance, that those passions can make\nbetter phrases than yours. They know how to give them life, and\nwill hurl them at you, glowing with a fire which will speedily\ndevour your cold and meagre speeches ... Nothing can restrain and\nsubdue the passions but the inspiration, the power of God. ...\n\nIt is high time that we should resume the accent of conviction in\nour ministrations. Having that, the soul is perfectly at ease,\nand, feeling sure of its footing, cherishes the widest\nbenevolence. ... Why should it be troubled, knowing that it is\nsecure in the Power on which it relies? It is only those powers\nwhich doubt their own strength that are suspicious and wavering.\nAnd when God is with us, we cannot fail to entertain profound\npity for the weaknesses, the prejudices, the profanities, and the\nfalse reasonings of humanity.\n\n\n{254}\n\n    Chapter X.\n\n    Action.\n\n\n  Action should be:\n    first, true and natural;\n    secondly, concentrated;\n    thirdly, edifying.\n  It should be cultivated.\n  How cultivated by the Society of Jesus.\n  Suggestions.\n\n\nAction is not mere gesture, neither is it motion nor sound. It is\nthe manifestation of the thoughts and sentiments of the soul\nthrough the bodily organs. It is the soul which, unable to reveal\nitself, makes its material exterior the medium of communicating\nits conceptions of truth and love to the souls of others.\n\nThe principle of action should be the heart. ... Action itself\nmay be in the voice, in gesture, in the face, in the hand, in\ndemeanor generally, and even in silence. ...\n\nAction plays a conspicuous part in eloquence. We are familiar\nwith what Demosthenes said on the subject. Being asked three\ntimes what was the first quality in an orator, he thrice\nreplied:--Action. This is an exaggerated judgment; but\nDemosthenes probably estimated action in proportion to the pains\nwhich its acquirement had cost him: nevertheless, it is certain\nthat action adds greatly to the clearness, the weight, the\nimpressiveness, and the power of thought.\n{255}\nIt is the charm of eloquence. Saint Fran\u00e7ois de Sales writes:\n\"You may utter volumes, and yet if you do not utter them well, it\nis lost labor, Speak but little, and that little well, and you\nmay effect much.\"\n\nOnly a few are capable of appreciating the intrinsic value of a\ndiscourse; whereas all can see whether you speak from an inward\nsense of the truth--from the heart and from personal conviction.\n\nIt is more especially upon the people that action produces a\npowerful effect; it attracts, it transports them. A preacher who\npossesses sterling and noble ideas, who has genuine sentiment and\ntrue action, is irresistible with them. Such weapons will\nassuredly do great havoc among them; or, as I should rather say,\nwill save many. They may not always admit their discomfiture: but\nthey will not hesitate to confess that your words are weighty and\ntrue, and tell against them.\n\nBut in order to be impressive, action must be: first, true and\nnatural; secondly, concentrated; thirdly, edifying. ...\n\n1. In the first place, the preacher should be himself, and should\nspeak like a man. It is preeminently in the pulpit that every\nthing should be genuine: that every accessory should harmonize\nwith the thoughts; that the eye, the look, and the hand should\ncorroborate what is uttered by the lips.\n\n{256}\n\nStrange to say, hardly any attention is paid to this point. Once\nin the pulpit, it seems to be taken for granted that no effort is\nrequired to give the truth distinctness. Words are strung on to\nwords, and any tone of voice is deemed appropriate. ... The\npreacher speaks as nobody in the world ever spoke: he bawls,\nchants, or sings without modulation and without feeling. Hence, a\nmalicious wag on hearing a preacher pronounce those terrible\nwords: \"Depart ye cursed!\" in a bland tone, turned to his\ncompanion, and said: \"Come here, my lad, and let me embrace you;\nthat is what the preacher has just expressed.\"\n\nEverywhere else, men speak; they speak at the bar and the\ntribune; but they no longer speak in the pulpit, for there we\nonly meet with a factitious and artificial language, and a false\ntone. ...\n\nThis style of speaking is only tolerated in the Church, because,\nunfortunately, it is so general there; elsewhere it would not be\nendured. ... What would be thought of a man who should converse\nin a similar way in a drawing-room? He would certainly provoke\nmany a smile.\n\nSome time ago, there was a warden at the Pantheon--a good sort of\nfellow in his way--who, in enumerating the beauties of the\nmonument, adopted precisely the tone of many of our preachers,\nand never failed thereby to excite the hilarity of the visitors,\nwho were as much amused with his style of address as with the\nobjects of interest which he pointed out to them.\n\n{257}\n\nA man who has not a natural and true delivery, should not be\nallowed to occupy the pulpit; from thence, at least, every thing\nthat is false should be summarily banished. ...\n\nBut is it so very difficult to be one's self? Assume your usual\nvoice, your usual manner, modifying them according to the number\nof your hearers, and the truth which you are about to set forth.\nLet your speech be frank, sincere, cordial, revealing a true and\naffectionate soul. Be yourself, and be persuaded that to be so\nsuits you best. Make manifest your heart, your soul; for there is\nnothing so attractive as a soul. Saint Catherine of Sienna said\nthat if a soul could be seen, she believed that people would die\nof happiness at the sight.\n\nLook at the man who has a cause to plead, or one who is moved\nwith a strong passion; he is always true--true even to grandeur.\n\nIn these days of mistrust, every thing that is false should be\nset aside; and the best way of correcting one's self in that\nrespect, as regards preaching, is frequently to listen to certain\nmonotonous and vehement preachers. We shall come away in such\ndisgust, and with such a horror of their delivery, that we shall\nprefer condemning ourselves to silence rather than imitate them.\n{258}\nThe instant you abandon the natural and the true, you forego the\nright to be believed, as well as the right of being listened to.\n\n2dly. Action should be concentrated: that is to say, it should\nproceed from a soul which is itself convinced, penetrated,\nfervent; which puts a restraint upon itself that it may not say\nall that it feels: unless it be from time to time, like the\nflames which escape at intervals from a volcano. Inward fervor\nharmonizes with the sacred word, whereas excessive noise and\nmotion are wholly unsuited to it. If a passionate outburst\nsometimes escapes us, it should be repressed forthwith. P\u00e8re\nRavignan is admirable in this respect: after thundering at his\naudience, he immediately resumes the most benignant countenance.\n\nIn the first place, the preacher should be calm; master of\nhimself as well as of his subject. He should have a steady\ndemeanor, should keep his forces well in hand, not relinquish his\nhold over them, unless it be designedly, and never lose\nself-control:--_be carried away and yet possess himself, and\nretain self-possession while allowing himself to be carried\naway_.\n\nVocal power and bodily motion are frequently very much abused.\n\n{259}\n\nThe more a man shouts, the greater effect he is believed to\nproduce, and the greater orator he is held to be. Often, however,\nit is quite the reverse. Genuine passion--passion driven to\nextremities--speaks low, says little, and that little in a few\ndetached words. The most captivating eloquence is that which says\nmuch in a few words, and that noiselessly. ...\n\nThe vocal power is the animal part of man; he shares it in common\nwith the brute creation, who often possess it in a high degree.\nBut the distinguishing sign of intelligence is the consonant.\nWell-educated men attend less to sound than to articulation. The\nvowel is the letter that kills; the consonant is the spirit which\nvivifies.\n\nBodily motion should be moderate; too much motion wearies the\npreacher and the audience likewise, and distracts their\nattention. One may be eloquent without much gesticulation. There\nis a famous preacher who generally speaks with his hand in his\nrobes, whose discourses, nevertheless, are very powerful. ...\nHere, also, the same reflection which was made above recurs to\nus; namely, that a profound passion is scarcely ever accompanied\nwith agitation; it is unmoved, prostrate, and does not manifest\nitself except by occasional sudden outbursts. Mistakes are often\nmade on this score, and that is thought to be a fervent sermon\nwhich is delivered with much bawling and much gesticulation.\n\n{260}\n\nIt is true, as M. de Cormenin remarks, that the people are fond\nof expressive gestures, such as are visible at a distance, and\nabove the heads of the congregation; that they also like a\npowerful and thrilling voice; ... but all this cannot be kept up\nlong, for preacher and hearers soon, grow tired of it. Then,\nagain, the people are fond of variety, and a monotonous voice\nsends them to sleep. That the delivery of a sermon should\nsometimes be accompanied with significant gestures, and that\nemotion should occasionally vent itself in an outburst, is all\nwell enough; but compress such power as much as possible, so that\nit may be felt that you possess within your own soul a force\nthreefold greater than you outwardly manifest. ... The more\nvehement you wish your sermon to be, the more you should restrain\nthe air in its passage, forcing it to make its way in thrilling\nexplosions and a resounding articulation. Then many will fall by\nthe sword of the word.\n\n3dly. Action should be edifying.\n\nThe bearing of a man who speaks in the name of the Gospel should\nbe full of grace and truth. It is most desirable that he should\npossess knowledge and talent, but those endowments do not\nsuffice; he must possess, in addition, a virtuous, yea, even a\nholy exterior. Frenchmen are much more sensitive on this point\nthan is usually thought. A godly man at once inspires their\nrespect and veneration; and were a saint to appear in our midst,\nit is certain that he would reproduce many of the scenes of the\nmiddle ages. A saint is essentially a man beloved by the people,\nbecause he is surrounded with a Divine halo.\n\n{261}\n\nThe Christian orator makes his appearance with simplicity and\nmodesty. He kneels and bows profoundly, rises up, and then looks\nround upon his audience with a kindly expression, devoutly makes\nthe sign of the cross, and then begins his sermon, thinking only\nhow to arrest the attention of his hearers.\n\nThe time is happily long gone by when the preacher used to enter\nthe pulpit with great formality, a flushed countenance, and hair\nmost carefully got up; then place by his side a fine white\nhandkerchief, sometimes of costly silk, which ever and anon he\nmethodically passed over his face. These airs no longer suit the\ntimes: the preacher nowadays must not be engrossed with self,\nwith his handkerchief, or his surplice, or his hair; neither must\nhe cause others to be taken up with such trifles. In the pulpit\nthe man should disappear, and the apostle alone be seen. ...\n\nThe people, who have an exquisite notion of propriety, are very\nsensitive on all such matters; and God often derides our affected\nwords and actions by rendering them vain and barren, and by\nmaking use of the most insignificant things to convert the souls\nof men.\n\n{262}\n\nA converted Parisian operative, a man of a wilful but frank\ndisposition, full of energy and spirit, who had often spoken with\ngreat success at the clubs composed of men of his own class, was\nasked by the priest who had reconciled him to God to inform him\nby what instrumentality he who had once been so far estranged\nfrom religion had eventually been restored to the faith. \"Your\ndoing so,\" said his interrogator, \"may be useful to me in my\nefforts to reclaim others.\"\n\n\"I would rather not,\" replied he; \"for I must candidly tell you\nthat you do not figure very conspicuously in the case.\"\n\n\"No matter,\" said the other; \"it will not be the first time that\nI have heard the same remark.\"\n\n\"Well, if you must hear it, I can tell you how it took place, in\na few words. A _religicuse_ had pestered me to read your little\nbook--pardon the expression: I used to speak in that style in\nthose days. On reading a few pages, I was so impressed that I\nfelt a strong desire to see you.\n\n\"I was told that you preached in a certain church, and I went to\nhear you. Your sermon had some further effect upon me; but to\nspeak frankly, very little, comparatively, indeed, none at all.\n{263}\nWhat did much more for me was your open, simple, and good-natured\nmanner, and, above all, your ill-combed hair; _for I have always\ndetested those priests whose heads remind one of a hair-dresser's\nassistant;_ and I said to myself: That man forgets himself on our\nbehalf; we ought, therefore, to do something for his sake.'\nThereupon I determined to pay you a visit, and you _bagged me_.\nSuch was the beginning and end of the affair.\"\n\nThe thought should never be absent from our minds that we preach\nthe Gospel, and that the Gospel is preeminent in inculcating love\ntoward humanity. Away, then, with all domineering and dictatorial\nairs! Away with all violent language! The people regard it as the\nebullition of anger, and are not at all edified thereby.\n\nOn the other hand, in order to succeed, the heart of the preacher\nmust first be penetrated with what he teaches; an appropriate\naccent will follow of itself. There are men who carry about with\nthem something godlike. ... Such men are eagerly listened to,\nthey are believed, and then loved.\n\nFrom what has been said, it is obvious that we should train\nourselves to obtain proficiency in action.\n\n{264}\n\nAction is the manifestation of the thoughts of the soul through\nthe medium of the body. But the body often rebels and weighs down\nthe soul; and in this, as well as in many other things, requires\nto be suppled, mortified, disciplined to obedience. However\nstrong the soul may be, it rarely gets the mastery over the body\nat the outset, and does its part very inefficiently. It is the\nsame with soldiers. When a young conscript first joins his\nregiment he is heavy and awkward, and his military arms seem a\nburden to him. Six months later all this is changed: he is quick\nand smart, and carries his arms with quite a French grace. The\nsame transformation may be effected as regards public speaking.\n\nOne who has had considerable experience in the direction of\nseminaries, has written the following; which I feel it a duty to\ntranscribe entire:--\n\n  \"It is incumbent on a preacher to possess oratorical action,\n  and to practise himself therein until he has acquired it.\n  Conscience, indeed, must tell him that he ought not to neglect\n  a matter on which the success of his ministry depends; and that\n  if, to the mischief of men's souls, theatrical actors spare no\n  pains to attain perfection in action, the preacher should\n  strive, with at least an equal zeal, to become proficient in\n  that respect for the good of men's souls. What! shall the\n  ministers of God weaken by vicious action the force of all they\n  say, while the ministers of Satan, by consummate skill in\n  action, redeem the vanity of their speeches, and impassion the\n  souls of their audience! Surely, this would be a disgrace to\n  the clergy, and an outrage on the word of God.\n\n{265}\n\n  \"If it be objected that in the case under consideration art is\n  useless, because nature teaches what is needful, we reply, with\n  Quintilian:--_Nihil licet esse perfcctum, nisi ubi natura cur\u00e2\n  juvatur_. All talents are rude and unformed until the precepts\n  of art refine and impart to them that polish which makes them\n  valuable. Demosthenes had few natural gifts for public\n  speaking; but exercise and experience gave what nature had\n  denied him.\n\n  \"If it be objected, further, that the Apostles never learnt the\n  rules of action, we reply that they received the power of\n  miracles--a more than adequate compensation for human\n  eloquence. That, moreover, they received the gifts of the Holy\n  Spirit, which enabled them to proclaim the Gospel worthily.\n  That, inspired by that Divine Spirit, they were eloquent in\n  action as well as in speech; and that St. Paul would not have\n  been listened to on the Areopagus unless he had been able to\n  captivate the eloquent people whom he addressed, as well by\n  external action as by the sublimity of his language.\n\n  \"Saint Charles directed that the candidates for holy orders in\n  his seminary should be exercised several times a week in public\n  speaking; and the Church has always followed the same practice.\n  The Fathers also bestowed much attention on the formation of\n  speech. Deprive me of every thing else, says Saint Gregory of\n  Nazianzen, but leave me eloquence, and I shall never regret the\n  voyages which I have made in order to study it.\" [Footnote 20]\n\n    [Footnote 20: _Trait\u00e9 de la Pr\u00e9dication_. By M. Hamon, Cur\u00e9\n    de Saint-Sulpice.]\n\n{266}\n\nWhat we are most deficient in is articulation--that powerful\narticulation which isolates, engraves, and chisels a thought ...\nwhich fills the ear with harmony and the soul with truth; which\ngives the orator an extraordinary power of animation, by bringing\ninto play the whole nervous system. We have already remarked that\nthe force of a word is entirely in the consonant, whereas it is\noften laid on the vowel. The emission of the vowel is the rude\nblock; the consonant is the artist's chisel, which works it into\na masterpiece. ... It appears to be frequently imagined that it\nrequires as much effort to discharge waves of air as to hurl a\nheavy club into space; but it is not so in the least. What is\nneeded is that the air should be compressed and triturated, and\nreduced into expressive and harmonious sounds. It is from\nmisapprehension on this score that so many preachers fume and\ntire themselves and others, and that some appear like men who\ndisgorge words which they have swallowed by mistake. A little\npractice would prevent them from falling into these and similar\naberrations.\n\n{267}\n\nAt the same time, we should not practise, as is often done, upon\nevery sermon which we preach, for by so doing we shall be apt to\ndeliver them very badly. It is scarcely in nature to prepare\nsentiments beforehand. As M. de Cormenin satirically puts\nit:--\"Be impassioned, thunder, rage, weep, up to the fifth word,\nof the third sentence, of the tenth paragraph, of the tenth leaf.\nHow easy that would be! above all, how very natural!\"\n\nThe course to be pursued is this:--we should practise ourselves\nin the delivery of the several parts of a discourse, such as the\nexpository, the demonstrative, and especially those which give\nexpression to the different passions. That done, and when once in\nthe pulpit, such studies should cease to occupy the mind.\n\nThe exercise thus insisted on is practised in other professions.\nMen who devote themselves to the theatre, cultivate their voices\nand their limbs. Young law students and advocates have their\nconferences, where they train themselves to plead at the bar; and\nyet those who are called to save souls neglect to cultivate the\ntalents which God has given them!\n\nThis is the usual process:--A young man composes a sermon while\nat college, which is generally made up of odds and ends and\nquotations, and in putting them together he does his best not to\nbe himself. With this stuff he mounts the pulpit, it may be of a\ntown church or even of a cathedral; and behold him a full-fledged\npreacher! And then, forsooth, astonishment is expressed because\nthe faithful are bored, and do not come to listen to us! The\nwonder is that so many attend our sermons.\n\n{268}\n\nBut let us be just: all do not entertain this idea of sacred\neloquence. By certain religious orders, the Jesuits for example,\nit is regarded in quite a different light. I crave pardon for\nrevealing their family secrets; but it is for the good of souls.\n\nA novice among the Jesuits, no matter what he may have been\npreviously--whether a lawyer, author, preacher, canon, grand\nvicar, bishop, or even a cardinal--must attend a reading-class\nthree or four times a week. There he is made to read like a\nchild, is taught to articulate and accentuate, and every now and\nthen is stopped while those present are called upon to point out\nthe merits and defects in his reading. This training is persisted\nin until his pronunciation is perfect, and he is free from all\ndisagreeable accent.\n\nBut that is not all: every Monday during his noviciate, or during\nthe term of his studies, that is, for five, six, eight, or ten\nyears, he has to undergo a training in the _tones_, which\nconsists in his being made to recite what is called the formula\nof the general _tones_--a short discourse, comprising all the\ntones ordinarily used in oratorical compositions; such as the\ntone of persuasion, of menace, of kindness, of anger, of the\nmercy and justice of God, of prayer, and of authority.\n{269}\nThereby the young preacher is taught how to supple, to break in\nhis own organism, and to adapt it to those different tones.\n\nAfter these come the _special tones_. This consists of a short\ndiscourse, to be composed in two hours on a given text, and must\ncontain certain specified strokes of oratory. Three or four of\nthe younger novices are exercised in this way, exclusive of the\nsermons which are preached in the refectory.\n\nBut the most profitable part of the exercise is this, that after\nreciting his tones, the preacher must remain in the pulpit while\nthe master of the novices asks some of the spectators what they\nthink of its substance, form, expression, etc., the poor patient\nbeing present and obliged to hear all his faults detailed. This,\nhowever, is done in all charity; and moreover, his good qualities\nare pointed out in a similar way.\n\nThese are most interesting meetings. They comprise, besides young\nlawyers and ecclesiastics, men of general experience, logicians,\npoets, and preachers, who are all invited to express their\nopinion with the greatest freedom.\n\nThe youngest are interrogated first; for the young are naturally\nfastidious, and generally find much to blame. Time, however, will\ncorrect them of that fault. After these come the older novices,\nthen the Jesuits well trained to preaching; and lastly, the\nmaster of the novices, who sums up the different opinions\nelicited, and then proceeds to expound the science.\n{270}\nIt sometimes happens, however, that the judgments passed are so\nwell formulated and so well based, that, despite his desire to\ncriticise or to applaud, the master is obliged to modify his own\nopinions.\n\nWhen the young preacher leaves the pulpit, he retires to note\ndown his defects and merits, which he is subsequently expected to\nread over from time to time.\n\nOne excellent feature in this exercise is the encouragement which\nit is designed to impart; for besides pointing out defects, no\nefforts are spared to develope in the novices the talents which\nGod has given them. They are made to understand that a man may do\ngood even though he be subject to half a dozen drawbacks.\nMistakes are often made on this score. One qualification only may\nsuffice to render a man a remarkable orator, whereas another may\nbe free from all obvious defects, and yet be a sorry speaker. The\nLord deliver us from a faultless preacher! for he is generally a\nvery bore, as incapable of a trait of genius as he is of a\nblunder. Always intent on guarding against this and that defect,\nhe loses his personality. He is no longer a man; he is no longer\na priest: he is merely a scholar doing his recitation. ...\n\n{271}\n\nIn order to form a young speaker into a good preacher, he should\nfirst be set to address the lower classes. ... Among such\naudiences he will be better able to discover his own special\ntalent, and to utilize his qualifications. The Jesuits pursue a\nsimilar course.\n\nThe young Jesuit is sent to address the inmates of prisons and\nhospitals; if in orders, he is charged with missions in rural\ndistricts; if unordained, he is put to catechise; but always\naccompanied by the indispensable _socius_, who is not chary of\ncriticising or applauding him. It is doubtless owing to this\ntraining that the members of the Society of Jesus have acquired\nthat standing, power, and unction for which they are so\nconspicuous.\n\nAnother advantage of this training is that it teaches the science\nof life, and imparts wisdom in forming opinions.\n\nIf a young priest has not thoroughly studied the difficulties of\npublic speaking, he is apt to think that the art of preaching\nconsists in composing a sermon, learning it by rote, and then\ndelivering it without tripping. If he finds that he is considered\nto have acquitted himself tolerably well, he is thenceforward\ndisposed to dogmatize remorselessly, and to tolerate no appeal\nfrom his irrevocable verdicts, with all the stateliness of a man\nwho has the satisfaction of not knowing what he says.\n\n{272}\n\nBut when a man has studied and labored, say, for fifteen years,\nhe becomes more indulgent and moderate, and begins to understand\nthat there may be other ways of doing good besides his own. A\npriest who was once called upon to preach before several others\nof the same profession, complained that their presence rather\nembarrassed him. Whereupon one of our most celebrated orators\nremarked:--\"It is far better for you to have to deal with a dozen\nof our first-rate preachers than with an equal number of curates\nor even collegians.\"\n\nPractice, therefore, is indispensable. But it will be urged:\n\"Where is the time to come from? One has so much to do during the\nfour years passed at college, and afterward in the work of the\nministry.\" Very true; still we are bound to pay attention to the\nmost essential requirements of our vocation: and should not\npreaching be of the number nowadays? We learn dogmatic theology,\ndesigned to serve as the ground-work for solid lectures; but if\nnobody comes to hear them, or if they send the audience to sleep?\n... Ethics also are learnt, and the solution of difficulties\nwhich occur at the confessional: but what if the people do not\ncome to confession? ... It should ever be borne in mind that the\nobject and aim of our studies is _propter nos homines et propter\nnostram salutem_. Then, again, might we not talk less about past\nheresies and errors, and be more taken up with the time present?\n{273}\nMight we not also devote less attention to those doubtful\nquestions which are the great temptation as well as the great\nbane of professors of theology and philosophy, who dilate at\ngreat length on the opposite opinions held regarding them, never\nomitting to add their own, and generally wind up somewhat in this\nstyle: Decide as you please?\n\nI submit these considerations to the wisdom and piety of the\ndirectors of our colleges, who are well aware that a priest\nshould not be learned for himself only, but should be capable of\ncommunicating what he knows to others, and of securing their\nattachment to it.\n\nThings are taken for granted which no longer exist. It is\nsupposed that the churches are full, that careless Christians\nattend the services, and that the confessionals are frequented;\nall of which are often mere gratuitous assumptions. Something\nmust be done before such notions are borne out by facts; namely,\nour priests must be taught how to attract men to the church and\nthe confessional, and then to instruct them when they are there.\n\nLastly, the young students might meet together during the\nvacations, and mutually aid one another by their common\nexperience. Parish priests might also meet in a similar manner,\nand communicate to each other their reflections and the progress\nof their labors, in all simplicity and charity, just as young\nlawyers do.\n{274}\nThen we might anticipate the happiness of seeing every thing that\nis false, borrowed, factitious, artificial, stiff, vehement,\ntrite, and noisy, together with all unmeaning action, monotony,\nand _ennui_, descend from the pulpit; and of seeing their places\noccupied by the true, the simple, the natural, the powerful: in a\nword, by the Gospel.\n\n\n{275}\n\n    Chapter XI.\n\n    Study.\n\n  Study a Duty\n  The State of the World calls for Knowledge\n    on the part of the Clergy.\n  Knowledge has always been one of the Glories of Religion.\n  All the eminent Men in the Church were Men of Study.\n  Reasons adduced for not studying, answered:\n    Want of Leisure,\n    natural Aptitude,\n    the Plea of having already studied sufficiently,\n    that one is fully equal to the Requirements\n      of the People committed to his Charge.\n\n\nFrom what has been said above, it will readily be inferred that\nmuch study is called for on our part--study of the sciences and\nstudy of mankind, study of books and study of the human heart.\n... In order to attain a noble simplicity, to acquire ease, and\nto be natural, a man must possess profound knowledge. I even\nventure to say that a little study leads us away from the\nnatural, whereas much study conducts us to it.\n\nBut there are other and still stronger motives for study on our\npart: namely, duty, and the salvation of mankind. It has been\nsaid, and that truly, that piety is the first and most essential\nrequirement. We admit that it is so; but genuine piety consists\nin the faithful discharge of the duties of one's station.\n{276}\nNow, it is absolutely impossible for a priest at the present day,\nwhatever position he may occupy, to discharge his duty without an\nadequate amount of learning.\n\nFor, what is a priest? He is the depositary of the science of\nlife, and is debtor therein to every man. He is bound to trace\nout the way for all; for the small and great, the young and aged,\nthe learned and ignorant, the humble and proud together.\n\nHe is bound to confront human passions and errors, to expose\ntheir wiles, to withstand the assaults of vice, and to enlighten\nthe minds and win over the hearts of men by the power of the\nGospel. A priest's need of knowledge is truly paramount. ...\n\nHence the Church has always recommended study. The Fathers were\nmen of study; the men whose genius has made them illustrious,\nwere studious men. Look at Bossuet! we boast of his fluency; yes,\nhe was fluent; but the thought of the life which he led up to a\nvery advanced age is enough to make one tremble. He generally\nrose at two in the morning, to continue a task hardly\ninterrupted. Let us not deceive ourselves in this matter: the\nlabors which have redounded to the glory of the Church have been\ndearly bought.\n\n{277}\n\nBossuet's intense devotion to study was notorious. One day his\ngardener accosted him thus: \"Monseigneur, I am very much put out;\nfor I dig away and plant flowers, and you do not take the least\nnotice of them. If I could plant some John Chrysostoms or some\nSaint Augustines in my garden I should be much more successful.\"\n\nEven in our own times, those priests who effect any real good are\nunremitting in their studies. The rule which P\u00e8re Maccarthy\nprescribed for himself is appalling:--\"My recreations,\" said he,\n\"must be short. It is generally enough for me to walk about with\na book in my hand, or while I am reciting my prayers.\nUnprofitable talk and time misspent are crimes in a priest.\"\n\nAt the age of fifty, he could no longer work seated, owing to an\ninfirmity brought on by doing a charitable act. He lay down on a\nsheepskin spread in the centre of his room, and there worked from\nten to twelve hours a day. We admire his success; but we here see\nwhat it cost him. We complain that the faithful do not come to\nour sermons; have we made any such efforts as these? Let us do\nthe men of our time this justice, that whenever they come in\ncontact with a priest possessing piety and knowledge--sound\nknowledge which is not acquired from books alone--he never fails\nto make a lively impression upon them.\n\nOn the other hand, the men of the present day crave after\nknowledge: it is one of their fancies. Are they right in this, or\nare they to blame? You may think as you please on the subject;\nbut we are, nevertheless, bound by the obligation of charity to\nbecome all things to all men, that we may save all; and among the\nmeans thereto, knowledge is one of the most efficacious.\n\n{278}\n\nThere are but two powers in the world nowadays: namely, the power\nof wealth and the power of talent.\n\nThe prestige of a name, of authority, and of dignity, has passed\naway. The fact is to be deplored; but it is true. What are we to\ndo in consequence? We must take men as they are, in order to\nbetter them.\n\nAs regards the power of wealth, we do not possess it; and we are\ncertainly not the worse for that. We are for the most part poor,\nthe offspring of humble parents; and what Saint Paul said of the\nfirst Christians is applicable to us:--\"Not many mighty men, not\nmany noble, are called.\"\n\nWe must array ourselves, therefore, on the side of the power of\ntalent. Therewith we may secure a hearing, and may succeed in\nreclaiming some to the faith. ... There are two ways leading to\nreligion: many are led thereto by love, and through the heart,\nand many likewise by knowledge; but when the two are conjoined,\nincalculable good is the result.\n\nA priest who is notoriously ignorant is already condemned: he is\nmorally dead, whatever other excellent qualities he may possess.\nHe is stigmatized with some such remark as this:--\"He is a worthy\nman, but he knows nothing.\" ... Thenceforward, what can you\nexpect him to effect, even among peasants, who have heard that\nfatal verdict?\n{279}\nThe world calls for knowledge from us, and we are bound to supply\nit. To that end, we must study, I do not say all human sciences,\nbut we should acquire some thoroughly, especially those which\nbear upon our special duties; and, as regards others, should not\nbe what may be called \"ignorant\" of them. It would be\ndisgraceful, for example, if we were obliged to refer to laymen\nto explain to us the beauties of our church architecture, or the\nsymbols which decorate our ornaments.\n\nFrenchmen like a bold, animated, lively--a telling style of\nspeech; let us endeavor, therefore, to attain it. ... The world\ncomes to us; let us meet it half way. Let us partake of its\nscience, and it will partake of our religion.\n\nFurther, knowledge has always been one of the greatest glories of\nthe Church. At the period of the Revolution of '93, even\naccording to the testimony of occasionally prejudiced historians,\nthere was an immense number of men among the clergy of France who\nwere eminent for learning and talent. Nowadays, we are called an\nadmirable clergy--the first clergy in the world. That sounds very\nwell; but it is a mere compliment: that is, we do not merit the\neulogy. Let us lose no time in proving our claim to it in every\nrespect.\n\n{280}\n\nBut there is no lack of plausible reasons adduced for our\ndispensing with study. Good God! the egregious mistakes and\ninfirmities which speech has taken under its patronage ought to\nbe well known by us. On the point under consideration, the\nreasons urged are various.\n\nThe first is: \"We would gladly do it, but, really, we have no\ntime.\" Now, let us be fair here. This is quite true in some\ncases. ... The labors and anxieties of the sacred ministry are\nabsorbing, and, besides, they cut up the little leisure which is\nleft us after a conscientious discharge of our duty. ... I say,\nthis is true sometimes; but very often, if we only had the will!\n... How is it with us, whenever we have a strong desire for any\nthing? ... Put the question to the weakest among men, and you\nwill learn even from them, that when they have the will they\nalways find the way. Come along with me, and I think we may\nsucceed in picking up some scraps of time, and, perchance, a\nlarge supply. ... And, first, as regards those long dinners: if\nyou were to curtail a little from the commencement, a little from\nthe end, and a small portion from the middle, methinks what\nremained would be amply sufficient for that meal.\n{281}\nDignity is brief in words, and at dinner likewise; feeling that\nit is endangered by exhibiting itself too long and too near in\nthe midst of meats and drinks, which savor little of Gospel\nmortification: without taking into account the poor, who do not\nsee us sitting down at sumptuous tables, while they are hard at\nwork and fare scantily. ... And what shall we say of the\nnumberless visits received and returned, the cares which are\nself-imposed, travelling, certain kinds of reading, and\ninordinate sleep? In all these there is much scope for economy.\nPlace an old academician, or a compiler of works which nobody\nreads, or a decipherer of illegible manuscripts, or a\nbird-stuffer, or the eternal collector of coins and butterflies,\nin the same position, and you will see how he will contrive to\nsave therefrom five hours a day at least. ... And we who are\ncalled to save men's souls! ... Oh, idleness! idleness! That,\ntoo, is another of our calamities. ... The serpent of indolence,\none of the vilest beasts in creation, glides in everywhere. ...\nWhat restrains us is this, that we do not plunge into study; that\nwe have not the taste, the passion for study. We can only attain\nsuch a temper by hard work. Let us break through the first\ndifficulties, then the taste will come, and ample time will be\nfound. ...\n\nThe fact of a man having studied a good deal during his lifetime,\nis another plea on the same side. It may not be expressed, but\nthe flattering notion is nevertheless entertained that we have\nalready acquired a certain amount of knowledge; that the public\nare aware of it, and have more than once complimented us on that\nscore.\n\n{282}\n\nYes, one has studied a good deal, learnt a good deal, and, we may\nadd, forgotten a good deal. ... Nothing is so soon forgotten as a\nscience which is not cultivated.\n\nA strange habit obtains in this respect. ... We judge of a man's\nabilities by what he was at college. He had ability then; but\nsubsequently he learnt nothing, and has forgotten much of what he\ndid learn. His knowledge has dwindled down to the wretched _just\nenough_:--a fact which is patent. For all that, he is still\nregarded as an able man. ... Another was rather backward at\ncollege, but since then has worked, striven, and succeeded in\nenlarging his talents. Why should such an one be spoken of as\nunapt, while we venture to think that we ourselves are well up in\nevery thing, because we were believed to know something fifteen\nyears ago? Moreover, it never seems to be borne in mind that\ncollege education merely gives us the key to knowledge and the\ntaste for study.\n\nBut one is naturally endowed with great ingenuity; what need is\nthere, then, for so much application? The Lord deliver us from\nthese gifted men! They are long-winded, tedious, monotonous,\nbombastic, and any thing but natural; bearing out what we said\nabove, that a little study removes us from the natural, whereas\nmuch study draws us toward it.\n{283}\nOur aim should be to have it remarked of our\ndiscourses:--\"Really, all that is very simple, and precisely what\nought to have been said. It is just what I should have said\nmyself had I been called upon to speak.\" But we shall not attain\nthat stage without much painstaking. Sermons generally are worth\nwhat they cost; and our most able men are those who study most.\n\nThe course sometimes pursued of restricting study to one special\nsubject is a sorry habit. It reminds one very much of a young man\nwhose chief aim is to get his bachelor's degree.\n\nBut it is further urged:--\"No complaints are made; on the\ncontrary, people have been pleased to tell us that they are quite\ndelighted with us.\"\n\nGood God! and has not every one experienced the same! Who,\nindeed, has not been deluged with compliments? Do you know any\none to whom the like has not happened? It would be a great\ncuriosity to discover a preacher, however wretched, tiresome, and\ninsipid he may be, who has not found a few pious souls to bestow\non him the alms of a small compliment, or a small lie. He is to\nbe congratulated, indeed, if in addition thereto, after having\nlistened to one of our good preachers, some of them do not come\nto him and say, with all the subtlety of the serpent:--\"Yes, his\nsermon was very grand, it was magnificent; still, we like your\nexcellent and charming little discourses much better.\"\n{284}\nThere is no doubting one's ability after that; and one is tempted\nto believe himself a Ravignan, or an unrecognized Lacordaire. ...\nOne sees, of course, that there is some exaggeration in all this:\nnevertheless he is fain to believe the half of it at least. ...\nAlas! flattery is the ruin of kings--and of preachers also.\n\nLastly, we have this plea:--\"I know quite enough to speak to my\nown people; I shall always be superior to the good souls which\nare committed to my charge.\" ... It is not superior to, but in\nunison with them that you should be. ... Let us see, however,\nwhat your knowledge really is, in connection with the good souls\nyou speak of. Whenever you address them from the pulpit, is their\nattention riveted? do their countenances beam, do their eyes\nglisten, or are they moistened with tears? Do you hold them under\nthe spell of your words? Do you possess their souls, together\nwith your own? ... \"Alas! no,\" you reply; \"blockheads that they\nare; they yawn, they dread the sermon, and are delighted on\nfinding that at Mass the Gospel is immediately followed by the\nCreed.\" ... Away to study! then; ... brush up your knowledge and\nyour heart; betake yourself once more to the study of your\npeople; find out their weak and their strong points; study their\nminds, their manner of looking at and apprehending things; and\nthen you will come forth to proclaim the truth pithily and\npowerfully, and will take up your proper position.\n{285}\nThe general impression, however, appears to be that a preacher\nhas but to open his mouth and the people should listen to him\nwith ecstasy; otherwise they are called dull and stupid. Instead\nof speaking to them a language which they understand, they are\ntreated to a theological theme amplified; whereon they\nremark:--\"All that is undoubtedly very grand; but it does not\nconcern us.\" Or, as an operative once said:--\"If that is the word\nof God, it is not addressed to us; it must be intended for the\nrich.\" ...\n\nStudy, then, is necessary to qualify us for doing good to all;\neven to the lower orders, the poorest and meanest. We have\nremarked elsewhere, that it is more difficult to preach to the\nignorant than to the literary: more preparation is required.\nHence it is that there are more men fitted to address the upper\nthan the lower classes; and yet the latter form nearly the whole\nof the community. ... Be it ours, then, to attain that\nsuperiority which knowledge confers; whereby also we shall be\nable to lay hold of both small and great, through the medium\nwhich they severally offer for being so secured. The world\nthirsts for knowledge; let us give them knowledge; let us make\nourselves masters of knowledge, for then we shall undoubtedly be\nstronger than the world.\n{286}\nWe shall then be invested with a twofold power: the power of\nhuman and the power of Divine knowledge. The world possesses the\npower of human speech only; we shall possess that, and the power\nof God's word likewise. In a word, the world possesses the earth;\nabsolutely nothing but the earth: we, too, shall possess the\nearth and heaven besides.\n\n\n{287}\n\n    Chapter XII.\n\n    Zeal.\n\n\n  The Excellency of Zeal.\n  Love for the Body should be coupled with Love for the Soul.\n  The Zeal of the Wicked.\n  How Zeal should be exercised.\n  Associations of Apprentices, of Operatives.\n  Conferences of Saint Vincent de Paul, of Domestics,\n    of Clerks, of the Young.\n  Circulation of good Books.\n  Happy results of the same.\n  The Advantages and Difficulties of Opposition.\n  Great Occasions.\n\n\nThere is a sentiment which should sustain us, and infuse life\ninto all that has been above set forth; into our studies, our\ncomposition, and into the Divine word: namely, Zeal. Zeal is\npower, joy, happiness, expectation, reward and salvation, to the\npriest and to humanity generally.\n\nWe need not stop to prove the necessity of zeal. ... It is\nenjoined on all men:--_Unicuique mandavit Dominus de proximo\nsuo_. ... Is a priest who is without zeal a priest at all? Is not\nsuch an one rather a mere man? He is placed here solely to keep\nup the sacred fire which the Lord Jesus brought down to earth;\nand what must a cold and insensible priest be nowadays in the\nmidst of those who are perishing through the vices which fret and\nconsume them? He is an almost inconceivable contradiction. ...\n\n{288}\n\nOne of the glories of Christianity is its zeal in ministering to\nthe wants of the body: a charitable service, wherein the priest\ntakes a conspicuous part. But of what avail is it to succor the\nbody, if the soul is neglected? Of what use is it to go forth\nproclaiming charity! charity! if the soul, the most sensitive and\nsuffering part of mankind, is abandoned to endless misery? Who\ncan fail to be touched with compassion at the sight of so many\npoor creatures who drudge and wear themselves out, who go and\ncome, who endure and curse, unconsoled and hopeless?\n\nThe greater part of them, notwithstanding, are not vicious. Some\nare ignorant, others are led astray; ... many waver between the\ngood and the bad, only waiting for a kindly word to be addressed\nto them; for an outstretched hand; for some great stream of good\nto pass by them, and carry them away in its current. How gladly\nwould they follow it! Well, be it ours to create such currents of\ntruth and virtue; be it ours to confront human errors and\npassions, and to arrest their onward progress.\n\nI fancy that we stick too closely to our own snug corners, and to\nour own ideas. Yes, we stand apart! ... and, regarding the\nworld's progress from thence, we naturally find that it goes on\nmost unsatisfactorily.\n{289}\nVery likely: ... we suffer it to be led by evil passions; ...\nwhereas we should take our stand in the breach as Moses did;\nconfront the invading vices and lusts, come to a hand-to-hand\nstruggle with them, and cry out to them with the mighty voice of\nGod:--\"Stop! stop! you shall not carry away these souls, for they\nare not yours, but Christ's; He has bought them, and redeemed\nthem with his blood!\" ... If such courage, such resolution, such\nvigor as this was more common amongst us, the aspect of the world\nwould speedily be changed. But, alas! our good qualities are\nfeeble; we have lost the power to will; we allow ourselves to be\ncarried away in the stream. What is wanted nowadays to direct the\nworld is not knowledge so much as it is _will_. ... Where,\nindeed, are we to look for men with a will? ...\n\nIf we needed any additional consideration to stimulate our zeal,\nwe might say to ourselves:--\"Let us observe the world; let us see\nhow the wicked act.\" The wicked, indeed, afford us Christians\nsome most humiliating and painful lessons, enough to make us hide\nour faces from very shame; so much so, that we can wish nothing\nbetter than that the best amongst us might possess that zeal for\nwhat is good which the wicked evince for what is evil.\n\n{290}\n\nWe censure the wicked, and are right in doing so; but let us at\nany rate do them this justice, that they are adepts in their\nprofession: ... they profess their opinions boldly; ... they are\nzealous and active; ... they are energetic, and ready to\nsacrifice every thing, repose, money, liberty, even life itself.\n... Then, how adroit they are! how expert in making themselves\ngreat with the great, and little with the little! A pernicious\nbook appears ... forthwith it is put into an attractive shape and\nembellished with fine engravings ... There it is, to suit the\nrich and the drawing-room. ...\n\nNext, an ordinary edition at a moderate cost is prepared for the\nmiddle classes, for reading-rooms, and for the counter; and then\na popular edition--copies to be had at four sous each--for the\nworkshop and the cottage. A man recently converted, avowed that\nhe had contributed in three years no less a sum than 30,000\nfrancs in the dissemination of such books. And we! ... we\nChristians, who know the worth of men's souls, whose duty it is\nto save them, rest satisfied with a few slender efforts, directed\noften by mere routine! Shall we continue any longer inactive at\nthe sight of the torrents of vice and error which are hurrying\nour brothers on to the abyss? Would that be to have faith? Would\nthat be to have charity? Would that be to love God and our\nneighbor? ...\n\nBut how should this zeal be carried out into practice? That is\nthe important question. ...\n\nIn the first place, associations should be formed. In these days\nwe cannot dispense with them.\n\n{291}\n\nSociety must be taken up in detail, ameliorated part by part, and\nthen formed into a compact structure; for a good community can\nonly be composed of good elements. These objects may be attained\nthrough the medium of associations. There should be such for all\nages: associations of children, of apprentices, of operatives, of\nSaint Vincent de Paul, of the _Sainte Famille_, [Footnote 21]\netc. They benefit all, the members and the directors also.\n\n    [Footnote 21: See the _Manuel de Charit\u00e9_, and the\n    _Livre des Classes Ouvri\u00e8res_ for the details and manner\n    of establishing and conducting these associations.]\n\nHow comes it that there are not associations of young apprentices\nin all the towns of France? How comes it that any town dares to\nbe without one? What strange beings we are sometimes! We surround\nchildren with the most tender and assiduous care up to the time\nof confirmation, and then, at the most critical age, when their\npassions begin to cross them, we launch them forth, without\nsupport and without counterpoise, into that pestilential\natmosphere called the workshop; and then we wonder, and say\nnaively that they do not persevere in the right path.\n\n... Pray, can they be expected to persevere when thus left to\ntheir own resources? ... You, with all your religious knowledge,\nwith all your acquired virtues, with all your experience and age,\nwould you do so in their place? I defy you to persevere under\nsuch circumstances.\n\n{292}\n\nAn affiliated society of Saint Vincent de Paul should exist\neverywhere, even in the most retired corner of France. It already\ncomprises five hundred conferences. They have been founded in the\ncountry, where they do a vast amount of good. No town or village,\nat least, should be without its conference. It is sometimes urged\nthat the elements are wanting. That must be a wretched town or\nhamlet which can not muster three God-fearing and charitably\ndisposed individuals.\n\nMoreover, no town should be without its association of\noperatives. There can no longer be any excuse on this head. They\nexist elsewhere, are in active operation, and effect much good in\nmany places. The way to form and direct them is well known. We\nhave our associations of girls and grown-up women; but the men,\nthe poor men, are overlooked, neglected, and cast aside. ...\n\nLastly, we should have an association of the _Saint Famille_--an\nassociation for the poor.\n\nThe poor are so miserable as they are owing to the ignorance and\nmoral abandonment in which they live. ... An association tends to\nenlighten, to support, to elevate them; as also to bring charity\ninto play. Let no one tell us that he lacks time for this object.\n{293}\nTime is given you especially for the service of the poor; your\nfirst duty is to evangelize the poor. ... On the other hand, are\nyou anxious to benefit the rich, to touch their hearts, to gain\ntheir confidence, or even to secure their adoration--I say, is\nsuch your desire? If so, busy yourselves on behalf of the poor,\ndevote yourselves to the service of the poor, be popular in a\nholy sense; then, instead of vegetating in the midst of your fine\nphrases and isolation, you will live in the fulness of life. You\nwill see around you outstretched hands, willing hearts, and open\npurses, and will hear many a voice applauding and cheering you\nwith a cordial \"Well done! take courage!\" You will be driven to\nhumble yourself before God, saying: \"Depart from me, for I am a\nsinful man, O Lord.\"\n\nYes, let us be just toward the wealthy classes, toward the world\ngenerally, and even toward those who do not practise religion at\nall. Whenever they fall in with a priest who is friendly to the\npoor, they are ready to pay him a large tribute of respect and\nveneration; and nothing so much resembles love toward God as the\nlove which is shown toward one of His ministers.\n\nOther associations might also be formed with advantage. For\nexample, in towns, a servants association; but as humility is not\none of our virtues, either among high or low, it might be called\nthe Household Association.\n{294}\nIt might meet on Sunday--say once a month--and one would have an\nopportunity of telling that class a host of truths which could\nnot well be spoken elsewhere; and these poor people, who are more\nand more disposed to treat their masters as enemies, might be set\nright. It is much to be regretted that a hostile party is being\nformed in families; which, under certain circumstances, might\nprove highly dangerous. On the other hand, all the fault does not\ncome from below. Nothing now but interest binds the master to his\nservant, and servants attach themselves to those who give the\nhighest wages. As to probity, fidelity, and discretion, where are\nthey to be found? ... Masters are not only robbed, they are\noutraged.\n\nFurther, a mothers' association. The duties of a mother, more\nespecially among the lower classes, are very arduous. She\nrequires to be enlightened, encouraged, stirred up, and perhaps\nrebuked. Such an association would afford eligible opportunities\nfor telling them many things which could not be appropriately\ndelivered before a mixed assembly. It is a great misfortune for a\nfamily when the husband forgets himself and his duties; but when\nthe wife gives way, all is lost. Is she not, indeed, the guardian\nof religion and virtue at the domestic hearth? The attempt thus\nsuggested has been made at Bordeaux and elsewhere with perfect\nsuccess. [Footnote 22]\n\n    [Footnote 22: See the _Manuel de Charit\u00e9_.]\n\n{295}\n\nThere are two other associations which should by all means be\nestablished in large towns: namely, an association of young\nclerks, and an association of those young persons who are called\nshop-girls or girls of the counter. These two classes are most\nshamefully neglected; hence their morality is generally _nil_ ...\nand from the large towns they go to the smaller towns, and into\nthe larger villages, where they help to form that egotistical,\nsensual, _Voltairian_, excitable, and vain shop-class, ever ready\nto disseminate the vicious lessons which they have acquired.\n\nIt would be easy to form these associations. There would be no\ndifficulty as regards the young females. With respect to the men,\nall that is required is a good nucleus; which would soon be\nincreased by those who are at a distance from their homes.\nFamilies are often pained at being obliged to launch a young man\nalone into a great city, and would feel much happier on learning\nthat there would be some to protect him against being led astray,\nand who would help him on in his new career. Almost all the young\npeople who come up from the country are Christians up to the time\nof leaving their homes. Some genial title might be given to the\nassociation, which would make it attractive.\n\nAnother great field for the exercise of zeal is the diffusion of\ngood books. [Footnote 23]\n\n    [Footnote 23: See the _Manuel de Charit\u00e9_\n    under the chapter headed _Les Biblioth\u00e8ques_.]\n\n{296}\n\nThis kind of ministration has not been adequately or generally\nappreciated hitherto. The ministry of the word, which is\nproclaimed in our churches, is recognized; but that of the word\nwhich, in the guise of a good book, goes and sits down at the\ndomestic hearth, is not understood as it should be.\n\nWe are, however, making some progress in this respect; and I\ntrust that the magnitude of existing evils may stir us up to\ngreater activity, and that after being thoroughly beaten we shall\nrise up again as becomes Christians.\n\nThe Christian of the present day is not constitutionally brave;\nhe is rather timid, is subject to a number of little infirmities,\nand does all he can to reconcile duty with interest. But when he\nperceives that he has been wronged, when he is driven to\nextremes, he falls back upon himself, recovers his strength, and\nstands up for the faith. Then he is grand and bold; then he\ndefends himself, resists, assails, and triumphs even in death.\n\nThe time has come for us to avail ourselves of that tremendous\nengine which Providence has introduced into the world for good\nand for evil. Has not the Press injured us enough already? Has it\nnot already thrown blood and scum enough at humanity and\nreligion? Are not the two hundred millions of pernicious books\nscattered throughout France enough? Is not the world sufficiently\nestranged from the Church already? What do we wait for?\n\n{297}\n\nA powerful means of doing good is here placed within our reach.\nDon't be deceived; almost every body reads nowadays. Mistakes,\nhowever, are frequently made on that score.\n\nA preacher gives a _retreat_ [Footnote 24] in a country district,\nand is told by the cur\u00e9 that his people do not read. As the\nexercises progress, heaps of books are forth coming of so\nabominable a description that the like are not to be found in the\npurlieus of Paris--books the very titles of which are an outrage\non public morality.\n\n    [Footnote 24: A series of special religious services. ED.]\n\nLet us here recall to mind what has already been stated, that\nthere are now in France from eighteen to twenty millions more\npersons able to read than there were at the end of the eighteenth\ncentury.\n\nBut it is urged that good books are not read.--_That_ in a great\nmeasure depends on the quality of the books.\n\nFurther, that after reading them, men are just the same as they\nwere. Not always; and who can tell but that some thought has\ntaken root in their minds which in time will bear fruit? There\nare books which have wrought many conversions; which in the\ncourse of a few years have reclaimed more individuals than our\nmost celebrated preachers have converted during their lives.\n{298}\nI may instance one which is universally known, which has been and\nstill is the angel of good to many perishing sinners; yes, and\nsuch sinners too! such men! You have already guessed the title of\nthe book alluded to--it is the _Etudes Philosophiques_ by M.\nNicholas. [Footnote 25]\n\n    [Footnote 25: A person holding a high position wrote to the\n    author of the above-named work as follows:--\"From being\n    wholly indifferent to religion, you have made me, in a\n    fortnight, a fervent Christian, one sincerely repentant, and\n    firmly determined to lead a holy life.\" ... Another addressed\n    him thus:--\"I owe a great share of my restoration to your\n    book, which I shall try and induce all my relations and\n    friends to read.\"]\n\nSober town cur\u00e9s have expressed to us their belief that they have\neffected more good among their people by means of their\nlibraries, than by their sermons and all the other resources of\nthe ministry combined.\n\nBut these books should be selected with great care: nevertheless,\nvery little attention is bestowed on that point. How strange! One\ntakes great pains about a sermon, which will be heard at most by\na few hundreds of individuals, and no care is exercised in the\nselection of a book which will go to speak of God to the\nthousands who do not frequent the Church! At the yearly\ndistribution of prizes in France, twelve hundred thousand volumes\nare given gratuitously to respectable schools.\n{299}\nWhat a vast amount of good might be done through that channel, if\nthe books were well chosen! What a mass of profitable reading\nmight be introduced thereby among families! But as it is, the\nworks are taken up at random. A book receives a bishop's\napproval; which is deemed amply sufficient to warrant its\nadoption. It may be barren of ideas, tiresome, nothing more than\na bad religious romance; it may even be dangerous: no matter, it\nis given away, notwithstanding all those defects. But what is\npassing strange is the fact that this is done by men who have a\nreligious vocation, who are otherwise most distinguished, and who\nare intrusted with the education of the children of the upper\nclasses. It would seem, indeed, as if we were bent on verifying\nthe assertion of our adversaries, that the pious possess no other\nthan a contemptible and humdrum literature.\n\nIt would be an act of intelligent zeal to remedy these\naberrations.\n\nLastly, another way of promoting the diffusion of good books is\nto give men a personal interest in the undertaking. Authors and\npublishers should be amply commended and remunerated for their\nco\u00f6peration; and the trade--if you choose to call it so--made\nsubservient to the good work. Let those, also, who sell such\nbooks make large profits by the sale. Generally speaking, success\nis not best attained by acting alone, but by securing and\navailing ourselves of the assistance of others. We often make too\nmuch fuss about our proceedings, and should effect twice as much\nif we fussed one half less.\n\n{300}\n\nBut it will be urged:--\"Such associations cannot be formed\nwithout self-sacrifice and money; besides, they will encounter\nopposition.\" Undoubtedly they will; and so much the better.\nOpposition and calumny are the rod which God uses to drive us\nonward. ... If there be opposition, then there will be courage\ntoo; and many other noble qualities will be elicited. Is it so, I\nask, that we are called to \"vulgarly follow the masses?\" ...\n\nThere is a class of well-disposed people, who appear to have no\nmisgivings as to what Christianity is, who, nevertheless, give\nexpression to their supineness with a charming na\u00efvet\u00e9. You\npropose some good work to them; they reply at once: \"Excuse me;\nthere will be obstacles in the way; the time has not yet come for\nsuch things; and, moreover, I should not like to put myself\nforward in matters of that kind, for it might place me in an\nawkward position.\" One feels tempted on these occasions to ask\nthe apologist:--\"Are you a Christian?\" You may do so, and the\nready reply will be:--\"Yes, by the grace of God.\"\n\nWhat, then, do you understand by being a Christian?\n\nOne who believes in the doctrine of Christ, has been baptized.\n...\n\n{301}\n\nNow, listen to what the doctrine of Christ is: Blessed are they\nwho are persecuted. Blessed are ye when men shall revile\nyou,--when they shall drag you before the rulers of the people.\n...\n\nI think there is a prevailing tendency to regard those texts of\nHoly Writ which embarrass us as mere rhetorical figures.\n\nMen talk of the possibility of being placed in a false\nposition--that the time has not come--that there will be\nopposition, etc. In like manner, when Christ sent His apostles to\nconvert the world, might they not also have said:--\"But, Lord,\nthe world is not prepared; it is still so insensible. Besides, we\nshall encounter opposition?\" ... Or, when their shoulders were\nbeaten with rods, might they not have felt justified in saying:--\n\n\"Let us return to our own quiet life, for this only brings us\ninto difficulties.\"\n\nIs not a priest's life essentially a militant life? Is not the\npriest a soldier? What would be said, what would be thought of a\nsoldier who, on hearing the alarm, the enemy! to arms! should\ncoolly reply:--\"Stop, there will be opposition; the enemy will\nresist and assail us with musketry and artillery?\" There would\nonly be one name for such a soldier in France--he would be called\na coward.\n{302}\nBut no such soldier is to be found amongst us; on the contrary,\nat the bare thought of opposition and resistance to be\nencountered, his courage rises, his heart leaps, he runs, he\nstrikes, he conquers, or he dies a glorious death. That is what a\npriest ought to be; ... better still; he should feel that he is\nsafe beneath the power of the Almighty; and be like a general who\nmaintains perfect calm while shot, shell, and death, are flying\naround him in every direction.\n\nGood God! what have we to do with peace? Peace will never be\nyours. ... Talk of peace to men who are conquerors! ... Was it\nnot said in a celebrated harangue:--\"We are the first soldiers\n... and yet they come to talk to us of peace!\" The priest is a\njeopardized, a sacrificed man, dead to the life of this world, to\nwhom it has been said:--\"Go and defend such a post, and die to\nsave, not an army, but humanity.\" Be assured, then, that you will\nnever have peace, because human passions will eternally war\nagainst you.\n\nWe have borrowed two things from the present age--and those by no\nmeans the best of what it possesses--which do us a vast amount of\ninjury. The first is, a profound weakness of character, which\nprefers a petty, vulgar, and rather sensual existence, disposing\nus to lead the life of a retired tradesman. The second is a\ntendency to _officialism_. We blame that tendency in others; but\nare we not somewhat bureaucratic ourselves? We consider those\namong us to be great men who are what is called good\nadministrators.\n{303}\nThe accessory has usurped the place of principal. Administration\nis every thing: in certain localities it stifles the sacred\nministry. If Saint Paul himself were to return to earth, he would\nhardly be deemed fit to be the cur\u00e9 of a canton, unless he was\njudged to be well versed in administration.\n\nYet when Christ placed Saint Peter at the head of His Church, he\ndid not put the question to him:--\"Canst thou administer well?\"\nbut, \"Lovest thou Me? lovest thou Me? Art thou quite sure that\nthou lovest Me?\"--that is, Dost thou know how to save the souls\nof men? how to devote thyself, how to die for their sakes?\n\nThis brings us back again to the subject of zeal. There are many\nearnest-minded priests in France--most admirable men in every\nrespect. Among the laity also, there is no lack of zeal,\ndevotion, and the spirit of self-sacrifice ... A Christian who\nhas no zeal is not tolerated: in fact, there is much more of it\nthan is generally supposed.\n\nNow, something like this frequently happens:--On going to a town\nwhich has hitherto exhibited no signs of zeal, you ask the\npriest:--\"How comes it that you have no associations, no society\nof apprentices, of operatives, or of the _Sainte Famille?_ What\nare you about? It is a shame!\" ... He will reply:--\"How can I\nhelp it? I have no colleagues, and no laymen are available.\n{304}\nBesides, our people do not like to be drawn out of their old\nhabits: it is not with us as it is elsewhere.\" ... You then make\nthe same observations to the laymen, and they immediately\nanswer:--\"Pray, don't mention it, for it is not our fault. We\nshould like nothing better; but we have no priests to take the\nlead, and to tell us how to act. Our priests are excellent men in\ntheir way, but _they cannot step out of their routine_.\"\n\nIt should be our endeavor, therefore, to bring priests and laymen\ntogether; then there will be a mutual understanding between them,\nand both will heartily co\u00f6perate in doing good.\n\nFor, at any cost, we must save souls. That is our duty, our joy,\nour crown, that whereon our whole future depends; and what is\nsaid of men of the world, who have made a false step in life,\nwill be said of the priest who fails in that respect--he has lost\nhis chance.\n\nWe should take advantage of every opportunity to benefit the\nsouls of men; to enlighten, to reclaim, to reconcile them. A\nconfirmation, for example, associated as it is with so many sweet\nand sad reminiscences, offers a most eligible occasion for such\nefforts. But beware of all vulgar vituperation of unbelievers, or\nof the parents. They are on the look-out for such tirades, and\nhave already hardened their hearts and their faces against them.\nRather aim at their hearts, where they least expect an attack,\nand where they are not prepared to resist you.\n\n{305}\n\nAfter stating that God will require a strict account of parents\nfor the manner in which their children have been brought up, turn\nat once to the parents and say:--\n\n\"Do not be alarmed, for I am not going to reproach you. I would\nnot disturb your present happiness. I would not detract one iota\nfrom your gratification. Enjoy it thoroughly, for you have a\nright to it; it is but a slender recompense for all your pains.\nLook at your children, they are happy, and they owe their\nhappiness to religion. No, I cannot bring myself to utter any\nthing which might trouble you on this occasion; for it must have\ncost you pain enough already to see your children go alone to the\nholy table, absolutely like orphans, while you yourselves stand\napart, and are driven to say:--'Yes, my child is worthy to be\nthere, but I am not. ... I say, such a reflection as this must\nhave caused you intense sorrow.\n\n\"Nevertheless, you are not so much estranged from religion as you\nmay think: God is not far from you. One always loves his child's\nfriend, and your child's best friend is God. ... Can you repel\nreligion, can you repulse God himself, whom we are about to send\nto you this evening in the angelic form of a dearly loved child?\nDraw near then to the Gospel ... carry away with you, at least,\nsome pious sentiment, some wholesome regret, some incipient\ndesire after that which is good.\" ... Adopt some such strain as\nthis, and your words will not be in vain.\n\n{306}\n\nSimilar efforts might be made on the termination of the special\nservices for Lent and the great ecclesiastical seasons, and on\nother extraordinary occasions also. After congratulating those\nwho have profited by the means of grace, be careful to abstain\nfrom upbraiding or denouncing those who have abused them. Such a\ncourse is low and vulgar, and does much harm. On the contrary, do\nall you can to encourage and touch the hearts of all. I may\nsuggest the following. Say what a pious and zealous _religieux_\nonce said to his audience, at the end of a home mission:--\n\n\"Brethren, I am going to tell you an anecdote. It is not true,\nfor the details are impossible. It is merely a parable.\n\n\"It is alleged that there is a country near the north pole, where\nit is so cold that words are frozen as they issue from the lips.\nIf two men placed apart at a certain distance attempt to\nconverse, they do not hear one another, for their words freeze in\nthe air. But when spring comes, then their words are heard.\n\n\"Brethren, it is cold too and icy round your souls, and our words\nfreeze; but when spring comes, when God's sun shall shine, then\nthese our words will thaw and penetrate into your hearts, even\nthough it be not till the hour of death.\"\n\n{307}\n\nThus, let there be an outburst of love and kindliness toward\nthose who have been edified by the means of grace, and a still\nlarger and more affectionate appeal to those who seemingly have\nnot profited thereby.--\"What shall I say to you? Shall I address\nyou in the language of severity? I might claim the right to do so\nin God's name; but certainly I have no desire to avail myself of\nthat prerogative. I prefer holding out a hand to you; I prefer\npitying, commiserating your misfortune. It would have been\ndelightful for me to have been the instrument of your salvation;\nbut you would not let me save you. Doubtless, God has not judged\nme worthy; although my mission here embraced you also. ...\nAnother, I trust, will be more successful. ... Be assured that I\nentertain no ill-will toward you: I do not denounce you; on the\ncontrary, I shall ever pray for you.\n\n\"Draw a little nearer toward religion. In your calmer moments you\nsometimes say:--'I do not wish to die without the consolations of\nreligion. Were I to fall sick, I should send for a priest. Well,\nthen, dispose yourself to return to the right path: curb your\npassions, and break off those habits which poison your existence.\nAbove all, do not be a stumbling-block to your children.\n{308}\nHow often, as you well know, alas! are fathers the ruin of their\noffspring. Therefore have pity on your children, and on your\nwives also; for I whisper it to you that you are said to be\nsometimes harsh toward them. Ah, the poor wives! such treatment\nmust be very painful to them: they who have already suffered and\nendured so much.\"\n\nThat is the way to appeal to the hearts of men! Such are the joys\nof the sacred ministry! They are the only joys vouchsafed to us:\nand yet can we dare to complain? Are they not the most delectable\njoys which earth can afford? To have committed to him the souls\nof poor sinners to save, to love, and to bless; to be charged\nwith condescending toward his erring brethren; gathering them in\nhis arms amidst the miseries and sufferings of this life, and of\nleading them to the truth, to virtue, and to heaven, is not this\nthe sweetest enjoyment which a priest's heart can desire? Was it\nnot to that end that he bade adieu to the world and left his\nfather and his mother in tears? ... O holy joys of the sacred\nministry, how little are they known and felt by any of us! It is\npainful, doubtless, to have to stir up sin-sick souls; but when\nat the cost of much self-sacrifice we are able to benefit but one\nsuch soul, with what overflowing gratitude shall we thank God,\nand say:\n\n    \"May All My Days Be Like This Day!\"\n\n--------\n\n{309}\n\n      Books Published By The\n      Catholic Publication Society.\n\n\n  The Life And Sermons Of The Rev. Francis A. Baker,\n  Priest of the Congregation of St. Paul, Edited\n  by Rev. F. A. Hewit. One volume, crown octavo, pp. 504, $2.50\n\n\n      Extracts From Notices Of The Press.\n\n  \"Father Baker was a lovely boy, a wise and thoughtful youth,\n  and a devout servant of Christ. The son of a Methodist, the\n  graduate of a Presbyterian college, he became first an\n  Episcopal clergyman, and then a Catholic priest. In all these\n  changes, he everywhere won love; and whatever were the\n  peculiarities of his character, he was a sincerely good and\n  thoroughly pure man, and deserved the tribute which this\n  remarkably appreciative and tender biography pays him.\"--\n    --_New-York Watchman_.\n\n\n  \"After Newman's Apologia and Robertson's 'Life', the memoir\n  contained in this volume is perhaps the most respectable\n  clerical biography that we have met for a long time. We\n  recommend such persons as have already attained to settled\n  principles, and who may have an opportunity, to give the Memoir\n  itself a thorough perusal. It is rich in personal\n  reminiscences. It is, at the same time, like the 'Apologia',\n  both an argument and a biography.\"\n    --_Christian Times_.\n\n\n  \"Father Hewit's biography of his deceased friend is a most\n  noticeable piece of writing. It is as impartial as could be\n  expected, and has a marked local interest from its allusions to\n  local affairs in religious circles. A great part of it is\n  occupied with an elaborate view of the Oxford, or, as it is\n  familiarly called here, the Puseyite movement, and of its\n  effect on this country. The conversion of Bishop Ives, the\n  remarkable scenes at the ordination of Rev. Arthur Carey, the\n  movement toward a Protestant Oriental bishopric at\n  Constantinople, in which Bishop Southgate was engaged, and\n  various other features in recent church history, all are\n  described, rendering the biography of marked interest to\n  Episcopalians as well as to Catholics; while the history of\n  Father Baker is a curious study of the operation of religious\n  belief on a young, vigorous, and active mind.\"\n    --_New-York Evening Post_.\n\n{310}\n\n  \"The portrait which forms the frontispiece to this volume\n  appears to represent one of the contemplative, saintly,\n  seraphic spirits of the early ages of Christianity, rather than\n  a man whose life was cast amid the bustle and activity and\n  worldly-mindedness of the nineteenth century. The impression is\n  confirmed by the perusal of the memoir. It introduces us to a\n  type of character which is rare in these days, and reminds us\n  of a strain of mediaeval music. ... The sermons are remarkable\n  for the earnestness of their spirit, the simple and vigorous\n  eloquence of their style, and their frequent beauty of\n  conception and illustration. The biography, by his bosom friend\n  and companion, is an athletic piece of composition,\n  controversial and aggressive in its tone, abounding in personal\n  episodes, and presenting a spirited and impressive sketch of\n  the movement in which both the author and the subject have been\n  prominent actors. The volume, of course, possesses a paramount\n  interest for Catholic readers, but it forms too remarkable an\n  illustration of some important features in the religious\n  tendencies of the day not to challenge a wide attention from\n  intelligent observers.\"\n    --_New-York Tribune_.\n\n\n  \"This is the very best edition, as regards typographical skill,\n  that has as yet been issued of any Catholic work in this\n  country.\"\n    --_Boston Pilot_.\n\n\n  \"His sermons are brief, addressed to the common heart and\n  reason of his hearers, and remarkably free from clerical\n  assumptions of authority. The sermon on The Duty of Growing in\n  Christian Knowledge is liberal and philosophical to a degree\n  not usual in the pulpits of any denomination.\"\n    --_New-York Nation_.\n\n\n------\n\n\n  II.\n\n  The Works Of The Most Rev. John Hughes, D.D.,\n  First Archbishop of New-York, containing Biography, Sermons, Letters,\n  Lectures, Speeches, etc. Carefully Compiled from the Best Sources,\n  and Edited by Lawrence Kehoe.\n\nThis important work makes two large volumes of nearly 1500 pages.\nThe editor has spared neither labor nor expense to have it as\ncorrect and as complete as it is possible to make a work of the\nkind. The prominent position occupied for so many years by\nArchbishop Hughes makes this a highly important work; his views\non all the general questions of the day so eagerly read at the\ntime--are here collected and presented to the Catholic public in\ntwo elegant volumes, which are indispensable to every library of\nAmerican Catholic Literature.\n\n\n  _Price, Cheap Edition._\n\n  Two volumes, 8vo, cloth, $6.00\n\n\n  _Fine Edition, On Extra Paper._\n\n  Two volumes, cloth, bevelled,  $8.00\n\n  Two volumes, half morocco, bevelled,  $10.00\n\n  Two volumes, half calf, extra,  $12.00\n\n\n{311}\n\n    Extracts From Notices Of The Press.\n\n  \"Opening these volumes, the first thing that strikes us is the\n  vast energy, the indomitable resolution, the all-embracing zeal\n  of this great prelate. No subject affecting the interests of\n  Catholics was beneath his notice. The collection of such a vast\n  pile of materials is in itself an arduous and laborious task,\n  and when collected the arrangement and collation of the\n  documents were a work of time and trouble, requiring both\n  judgment and discrimination; both these qualities are apparent\n  in the contents of the two large volumes before us.\"\n    --_New-York Tablet_.\n\n\n  \"The editor deserves great credit for the care, industry, and\n  taste with which he prepared his work.\"\n    _Baltimore Catholic Mirror_.\n\n\n  \"This is one of the most carefully prepared, as well as most\n  interesting, contributions to American and Catholic history.\"\n    --_Boston Pilot_.\n\n\n  \"Every Catholic should provide himself with a copy of the\n  works, because they are the history, almost, of the Church in\n  her infancy in the Eastern States.\"\n    --_Cincinnati Catholic Telegraph_.\n\n\n  \"Take him all in all, Archbishop Hughes was the greatest man\n  that the Catholic Church has yet produced in this country, and\n  his writings must have a deep interest for all the members of\n  his communion.\"\n    --_Chicago Republican_.\n\n\n  \"There is a fund of instruction in his writings alike to the\n  Christian and the worldling, the Protestant and the Catholic.\"\n    --_Daily News_.\n\n\n  \"The work of the editor appears to have been done in a manner\n  worthy of the highest commendation.\"\n    --_Pittsburg Catholic._\n\n\n  \"Every Catholic household should have the work.\"\n    --_Irish American_.\n\n\n  \"This work gives his speeches and discourses in full. These\n  will be sought for by multitudes of his admirers.\"\n    --_New-York Freeman's Journal_.\n\n--------\n\n    III.\n\n    Sermons of the Paulist Fathers, for 1865 and 1866.\n    Price, $1.50\n\n\n    Extracts From Notices Of The Press.\n\n  \"They are good examples of practical, earnest, pungent\n  preaching. ... Others besides Catholics may be stimulated by\n  these discourses, and some Protestant preachers we have heard\n  might learn how to talk plainly to the heart and conscience of\n  men.\"\n   --_Round Table_.\n\n\n  \"These sermons are dictated with a conviction of mind and\n  earnestness of heart that the hearer and the reader are carried\n  away while reading or listening to them, which, after all, is\n  the triumph of eloquence.\"\n    --_Boston Pilot_.\n\n\n  \"These sermons, like those which preceded them, are sound,\n  practical, and able productions.\"\n    --_Catholic Mirror_.\n\n\n  \"They are adapted to the wants of our age and country, and\n  consequently must elevate the standard of morality whenever\n  they can secure the attention of a reader.\"\n    --_Pittsburg Catholic_.\n\n  \"Here are twenty-one Catholic sermons in various degrees of\n  excellence, nearly all of which are so thoroughly and truly\n  catholic in the widest sense of the term, that they will be\n  read with pleasure by Protestants, as well as by members of the\n  communion to which they are carefully addressed.\"\n    --_New-York Citizen_,\n\n--------\n\n  IV.\n\n  May Carols and Hymns and Poems.\n  By Aubrey De Vere. Blue and gold, . . . $1.25\n\n--------\n\n  V.\n\n  Christine, and Other Poems.\n  By George H. Miles. Price, $2.00\n\n--------\n\n  VI.\n\n  Dr. Newman's Answer To Dr. Pusey's Eirenicon.\n  Paper, $0.75\n\n--------\n\n  VII.\n\n  Three Phases of Christian Love:\n  The Mother, The Maiden, and The Religious.\n  By Lady Herbert.\n  One volume, 12mo, $1.50\n\n\n  Extracts From Notices Of The Press.\n\n  \"The author writes in a spirit and style worthy of the sacred\n  subjects of her pen. It is a book that should be in the hands\n  of every Catholic, and one which Protestants might read with\n  benefit to themselves, and without having their prejudices\n  rudely assailed. Mr. Kehoe has issued the volume in admirable\n  taste. Its mechanical execution is without a flaw.\"\n    --_Citizen_.\n\n\n  \"We hail this work as a great acquisition to our Catholic\n  literature, and recommend it to the attention of all. It is\n  just the book that ought to be placed in the hands of Catholic\n  ladies. The publisher deserves great credit for the beautiful\n  type, paper, and binding, which make this book equal in taste\n  and elegance to any published in this country.\"\n    --_Pittsburg Catholic_.\n\n--------\n\n  VIII.\n\n  Aspirations of Nature.\n  By Rev. I. T. Hecker.\n  Fourth edition, revised, cloth, extra, ... $1.50","title":"The Clergy and the Pulpit in Their Relations to the People.","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":72353}