Chapter II · The People. (continued 2)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That the influence of which we are speaking may be secured is proved by the fact of its existence throughout France. There are parts of the country where the rich man is king and father of his commune; which then resembles one great family. There, the tenant of the cottage exchanges smiles with the proprietor of the mansion, and the joys and sorrows of both are warmly reciprocated. No important step is taken by those who are below without knowing first what those above them think of it. Under such circumstances, how many evils are avoided, how many quarrels adjusted, how many animosities appeased! Oh, what a glorious mission! How sad to reflect that it is not carried out everywhere! Nevertheless, strive to make it understood by persuasion. Make frequent appeals to the hearts of the rich, to their love of humanity. Invoke them to aid us in stopping the misery at its source. Invoke their pity on the masses who toil and suffer beneath us; their pity for those poor children whose fathers devour their bread; pity on behalf of the aged who pine in cold and hunger; pity for the woman who spends her Sunday evenings in tears, expecting every moment to encounter the brutality of a husband who reels home with his reason and heart drowned in liquor. Appeal even to their sense of shame, and tell them that, if it is right to protect animals, it is still more so to cherish human beings—that their words, coupled with a good example, would be all-powerful to remedy these miseries—that it is the rich and great of the earth who sow good or evil in the hearts of men, and that if matters do not progress to their satisfaction, they should begin by taking the blame to themselves. … Your efforts will be appreciated by many. … You will be blessed by all.

Such are the French people; such, it appears to us, is the way to do them good.

It is well to study books: it is indispensable; but it is not enough. We must also study the hearts, the minds, the manners of those with whom we have to deal, otherwise our knowledge will be like gold buried in the mountains of America. "The good shepherd knows his sheep, and is known of them." Is that saying always realized amongst ourselves?

There is one particular point, however, on which we must be thoroughly convinced, namely, that what sufficed in former times will not suffice now. A great revolution has taken place among the masses. A century ago, Christianity bore all away in its strong current. Passions broke loose, no doubt; but sooner or later all bowed before the Gospel. Nowadays, attempts are made to justify human weaknesses. Formerly, scarcely any other guidance was permitted but that of the Christian pulpit. Now, there are platforms everywhere, and within a century we have between fifteen and eighteen millions more who can read—from fifteen to eighteen millions of men who may easily be led astray.

It is a common saying that "France is very sick." Then, I beseech you not to treat it as if it were in perfect health. Would you make an end of it?

"Christianity alone can save us," is another common remark. Very true; but it must be brought in contact with the masses, and if they do not come to us, we must go to them. … We have been unsuccessful in the ministry of the word; let us try the ministry of charity.

Is it not the aim of Christian eloquence to win over the hearts of men, and to dispose them toward that which is good? Avail yourselves, then, of your position to carry out that object. … Be persuaded that the world is tired of fine speeches; it wants actions: and of that demand, who can complain? … To study and to argue is to act well; to act and to love is better still.

But the most formidable argument against Christianity is this:—"We admit that Christianity has rendered great benefits to mankind by endowing the world with admirable institutions; but its sap is exhausted; its ascendency over the masses is lost." Let us prove that this is false, not by words merely, but by deeds: by self-denial and self sacrifice. Those arguments are unanswerable.

But in order to remedy the evils which beset us, we must not rely on the systems of the learned or on human laws. Good heavens! if reasonings and codes of law sufficed to secure the peace and happiness of a people, France ought to be the most prosperous country in the world.

Neither must we rely upon the power of the sword. It is easily used; but, as De Maistre has said, to rely on force is like lying down on the sail of a windmill to obtain quiet sleep. Then, again, the adoption of force leads to the most terrible excesses. Those who invoke it know not what they do: they have never witnessed civil war or barricades, they have never seen French blood flow in the streets, they have never heard the roar of cannon or the crash of grapeshot. . . . May God preserve us from a recurrence of such experience! Rather by dint of persuasion, of devotion, and of love, let us strive to reconcile all hearts, and make France the foremost people in the world—the most Christian and divinely blessed nation.