'Our friend Gregory is a good husband; but he sometimes has
little arguments with his wife.
'The other day, Mrs. Gregory was angry, because she had
found out that a shoemaker was going to establish himself in
the village. "What do we want another shoemaker for," said
she "when you and I are here already? The Government ought
to prevent such things."
'Gregory, who was at his work, lifted his head and said:
"The Government ought to prevent women from talking
nonsense. Suppose that I was the shoemaker who had just
established himself in the village; what would you say if
any one interfered with my carrying on my trade? You would
not be very well pleased, I fancy."
'He then explained to his wife the necessity of competition.
'"There is plenty of work for everybody," said he. "If there
had been already two or three shoemakers in the place, this
new fellow would not have come to settle here. He would have
seen that there was nothing for him to do. I am surprised
that no competing shoemaker has come here before. You know
very well that we have sometimes to refuse work, and that
there are people in the village who have to go to the town
to get their shoes. Beyond doubt the newcomer will take some
of our custom; but it is our business to look after that. We
must work better than we have done hitherto; and that's all
about it."
'Mrs. Gregory was not convinced, but she said nothing.
'"You see," continued Gregory, "you must look a little
beyond the end of your nose. You wish that there should be
only one shoemaker in the place. The linendraper wishes that
there should be only one linendraper; the grocer only one
grocer; and so on through all the trades. Very well; don't
you remember when we had only one linendraper how dear
shirts used to be? And don't you remember some twenty years
ago, when there was only one smith? You could never get hold
of him; and when you did, his charges were tremendous. I
recollect him putting a bell to our front door. When he gave
me the bill, and I had seen the amount, I said to him, 'my
good fellow, I didn't order a silver bell.' 'And I have not
put up a silver bell,' was the reply. 'Oh! I thought from
the price it must have been silver,' said I. This vexed him,
and he answered, 'If you are not satisfied, go elsewhere.'
That was well enough; he was the only smith in the
neighbourhood. I could not send for a man from Pekin: he
would have been sure to be lost on the road, and I should
have been obliged to provide for his family."
'Gregory made some other good remarks to show that if
competition prevents a shopkeeper from selling his goods at
a high price, it enables him to buy from others at a cheap
rate. "So on the whole," concluded he, "do not let us fuss
and make ourselves ill. I would much rather have some
coffee, than be compelled to take medicine."'
Gregory must have had some of the saintly qualities of his great
namesakes to enable him to take so calm a view of the invasion of his
shoemaking monopoly. We trust that Mrs. Gregory was eventually convinced
by his wise and philosophical arguments, and still more, that the
generation of Frenchmen who enjoy such teaching from their early years
may emulate so bright an example.
We cannot refrain from making one more extract from our little manual.
The thirteenth section deals with 'The Rights and Duties of the Citizen'
and the third subsection treats as follows of:--
'POLITICAL DUTIES.
'The French people ought more than any other people, to
respect the law made by its own deputies.
'It ought without murmuring to pay the taxes voted by the
Chambers, and to fulfil its military duties.
'It ought to respect the authority of all the agents of the
Government, from the lowest to the highest, from the _garde
champetre_ to the Ministers and the President of the
Republic, for the agents of authority are the servants of
the law, and all are chosen directly or indirectly, by the
deputies of the people.
'_The greater the rights of citizens, the greater their
duties._
'It used to be said, _Noblesse oblige_. This meant: a
nobleman ought to behave himself better than another, to be
worthy of his nobility.
'It should now be said, _Liberte oblige_. This means that a
free citizen ought to behave himself better than another, in
order to be worthy of liberty.
'You have the duty of putting your name upon the electoral
roll at the Mairie of the Commune in which you reside.
'You have the duty of voting, and you must vote according to
your conscience.
'You have not the right of being indifferent to public
affairs, and of saying that they do not concern you.
'You have an interest in securing to your Commune good
Municipal Councillors, who will look well after the
finances, will take care of the schools, and of the roads,
and attend to all wants.
'You have an interest in securing to your Department good
General Councillors, who will do for the Department what the
Municipal Councillors do for the Commune.
'You have an interest in nominating good Deputies and good
Senators, who may make useful and just laws, choose a
President of the Republic worthy of that supreme honour, and
keep the Government in good ways.
'You ought to make a good choice, not merely for your own
interest, but for the love of your country.
'_Love those republican institutions which France has
provided for herself._
'Endeavour to make them loved, respecting the while your
neighbour's opinions, and restraining yourself from all
hatred and from all violence.
'The future of the Republic depends upon each of you. If
each of you does his duty, it will be strong: strong enough
to make our lives happy, and to restore to us one day the
brothers whom we have lost--the BROTHERS OF ALSACE AND
LORRAINE.'
This is the conclusion of the manual. All works up to ALSACE AND
LORRAINE. (The capital letters are in the original.) Is it not
delightful? Is it not most truly French?
We should be sorry to see a parody or parallel to this French manual
introduced into our schools. At the same time we think there is
something to be learnt from studying it. Our neighbours seem to have in
some respect learnt better than ourselves the maxim of Horace:--
'pueris dant crustula blandi
Doctores, elementa velint ut discere prima.'
The pages of our manual are full of literary _crustula_; and we imagine
that most boys would find themselves sufficiently amused to read and
study the book, whether they were desirous of profiting by the contents
or not. And after all it is a great thing to _get hold_ of a boy,
whether it be by the loving and evidently self-sacrificing efforts of
the Christian Brothers, or by the ingenious mental food provided by the
Minister of Public Instruction. Notwithstanding such ingenuity, we do
not, however, believe that the present system of French teaching can
answer: it is hollow and unsound: it ignores the deepest of motives, and
disregards the most potent of influences: it may breed a desire to fight
with Germany for the recovery of Alsace and Lorraine, but it can
scarcely produce the highest class of citizens and heroes, because it
does not acknowledge the fear of God as the beginning of wisdom, and the
love of God as the best foundation of the love of man. The principles of
duty inculcated in the manual from which we have been exhibiting a few
elegant extracts will never rear such a character as De la Salle, nor
supply the foundation of such an institution as that of the Christian
Brothers.