hind. The vehemence of his own convictions did not
prevent him from being socially tolerant to others who hated them. 'If I
had the good fortune to be among his acquaintances,' he wrote of a
heretical assailant, 'he would see that among the people with
convictions it would be hard to find one so free from prejudice as I am.
I have many friends among the Protestants, and now that their system is
tottering, they are all the dearer to me.' In spite of his scanty means,
his shabby valet, his threadbare cloak, and the humbleness of his
diplomatic position, the fire and honesty of his character combined with
his known ability to place him high in the esteem of the society of St.
Petersburg. His fidelity, devotion, and fortitude, mellowed by many
years and by meditative habits, and tinged perhaps by the patrician
consciousness of birth, formed in him a modest dignity of manner which
men respected. They perceived it to be no artificial assumption, but the
outward image of a lofty and self-respecting spirit. His brother
diplomatists, even the representatives of France, appear to have treated
him with marked consideration. His letters prove him to have been a
favourite among ladies. The Emperor Alexander showed him considerable
kindness of the cheap royal sort. He conferred on his brother, Xavier de
Maistre, a post in one of the public museums, while to the Sardinian
envoy's son he gave a commission in the Russian service.

The first departure of this son for the campaign of 1807 occasioned some
of the most charming passages in De Maistre's letters, both to the young
soldier himself and to others. For though without a touch of morbid
expansiveness, he never denied himself the solace of opening his heart
to a trusted friend, and a just reserve with strangers did not hinder a
humane and manly confidence with intimates. 'This morning,' he wrote to
his stripling, soon after he had joined the army, 'I felt a tightening
at my heart when a pet dog came running in and jumped upon your bed,
where he finds you no more. He soon perceived his mistake, and said
clearly enough, after his own fashion: _I am mistaken; where can he be
then?_ As for me I have felt all that you will feel, if ever you pursue
this mighty trade of being a father.' And then he begs of his son if he
should find himself with a tape line in his hand, that he will take his
exact measure and forward it. Soon came the news of the battle of
Friedland, and the unhappy father th