Unfortunately, this is no longer the case. The sermon is looked upon as something cold, official, and tedious; or merely as a necessary accompaniment of the service. It is thought wearisome to listen to, but must needs be endured for the sake of example. Generally speaking, moreover, the greater part of the faithful are absent, and the majority of the pious souls present consists of females. These place themselves as much at their ease as possible on a couple of chairs, and resign themselves to undergo the sermon. When it is over, they remark that it was either a good or an indifferent discourse, and then depart absolutely as they came; none feeling in the least bound to practise what has been enjoined. {224} Preaching, indeed, is a sorry trade. The preacher studies and meditates on his subject, composes his sermon, and then commits it to memory. What a task! He then goes into the pulpit, and is grieved to perceive that the minds of his audience are abstracted--that they look like persons who are being bored; so much so, that he is glad if even by a nod of assent they do not prove that they have been doing anything else rather than listening to him. For the sermon is undoubtedly regarded in the light of an infliction; a species of forced labor. When the faithful learn that there is to be no sermon, they hail the announcement with pleasure, and seem to say with great glee: "Another sermon got over!" Hence one frequently hears the remark:--"I shall not go to such a mass because there is preaching there." Truly, all this is sad, very sad, as regards the preaching of the Divine word. But who is to blame, ourselves or the faithful? In the first place, it is quite certain that in France there is a decided distaste for any thing serious, or that requires attention and mental effort. Nothing is cared for nowadays but what is amusing; hence the most highly remunerated people amongst us are those who cater for the amusement of others, some of whom make fabulous incomes. How to be amused is, in fact, the great question of the day, insomuch that you hear the remark on all sides:--"I will not go there again, for the entertainment did not amuse me." The malady of _ennui_ pervades the social atmosphere and all who move in it, while any thing serious suggests wearisomeness and disgust. This state of mind is the result of excessive selfishness. For three-fourths of their time, men are bored about themselves personally. They then feel the want of some excitement to get rid of the incubus, and generally resort to whatever is romantic in search of it. {225}