Two years ago, a new parish was formed in one of the most miserable quarters of Paris, where the people were almost pagans. An appeal was made to their charity, and five hundred francs, in _sous_, were collected after the sermon. Moreover, the poor brought gifts of bread, and wished to help in the erection of the church. {102} Two poor women brought the fire-wood which had been given to them by the _Bureau de Bienfaisance_. Many brought their rings and wedding presents. Working men clubbed together to ornament the church; and, what is better still, now that it is built, they go there to pray. O people whom Christ loved, how little are ye known! how little beloved! Ye would be saved. ... To sum up: in order to benefit the people, they must be cared for; they must be loved, must be made to love all that is good and great, and then you may lead them where you will. Charity is popular in France. Above all, succor the unfortunate; do so bountifully, and you will gain an ascendency which nothing will be able to wrest from you. You may then defy the criticisms of wits, of the press, and of hate, and retain possession of the most glorious sovereignty in the world--that over the hearts of men. We must insist, therefore, on the necessity of giving the people a right direction; not the dry and cold direction of a metaphysical argument, or of a sword's point, but a benevolent, sympathetic, devoted impulse. ... We have not busied ourselves as we ought about the people, about their moral amelioration. We have abandoned them to the intriguing and ambitious, and then we complain of and reproach them. Have they not as much reason to murmur against and to upbraid us? The people are what they are made. {103} They are like those unclaimed lands which belong to the first occupant: they are good or bad according as they are well or badly managed; and, looking at the manner in which the people have progressed for the last ten or twelve years, it would hardly seem that they have been under the direction of honest men. What have we done? What masters have we given them? To what school have we sent them? To the school of the tavern, the liquor-vaults, and debauchery. And who have been the masters of this great French people? Men over head and ears in debt, bankrupt tradesmen, briefless barristers, peddling tipstaffs--such have been their educators; and yet forsooth, we have the face to complain that they have been badly brought up! What ought to surprise those who know the temptations and allurements to which they have been exposed, and the kind of literature which has been put into their hands--no less than eight millions of mischievous books every year by colportage alone--is, not that the people are so bad as they are, but that they are no worse. Their nature must be good at bottom, and Christianity must still survive in their hearts, to have withstood as they have done. I deplore the good which is ours no