Turning toward the occupants of the gallery, he addressed them in a kindly tone as follows:--"My dear friends, you are aware that the gallery was set apart for the ladies. Now, French politeness calls upon us always to give place to the ladies, and not to deprive them of it. From what I already know of you, I feel persuaded that you will not be behindhand in that respect." ... "We have put our foot into it," whispered the men one to another; "and can hold out no longer. {200} Ah! the crafty fellow, he has outwitted us, and we must go." The gallery was evacuated forthwith and made over to the ladies; to the satisfaction of all, even of those who had been worsted in the affair. That is the way to deal with the people. The preacher might have asserted his absolute authority on the occasion; but, like a wise man, he preferred the exercise of prudence and charity. We repeat it: the most effectual way of communicating the truth to the people, of putting them in the right way, and of reforming them, is not to be chary of complimenting them when they have deserved it ever so little; and to show that we have confidence in them. This course tends to gladden their souls; disposes them to what is good, exalts, elates them. It should never be neglected, for it is capable of transforming the most obstinate characters. Subsequent to the revolution of 1848, an association of unemployed operatives was formed at the church of the Carmelites; amongst whom was a number of sharpers, makers of barricades, and workmen always on the look-out for work--men clothed in rags and in a state of complete destitution. There were about twelve hundred of them. A meal was first served out to them, which was followed by a lecture. {201} The priests who addressed them soon acquired an irresistible ascendency over this formidable body; so much so that certain parties took umbrage at it, as a dangerous power to be wielded by the clergy, and accordingly hired a set of roughs to hiss and otherwise disturb the congregation. The preacher, who was apprised of this on entering the pulpit, did not manifest the least discomposure. Before beginning the sermon, however, he looked round upon the sinister figures and tattered habiliments of his hearers with a benevolent countenance, and then said in a sonorous voice:--"What a pleasant meeting this is, my friends! What an excellent audience! what silence! what attention! Therein I recognize the people. ... Père Lacordaire preaches at Notre-Dame to the noble and wealthy, and it is found necessary to station constables there to maintain order. ... None but men of the people are here, and yet we have no constables amongst us. We do not want them, for the people are their own police; the people are discreet." ...