, has affected Xavier de
Maistre "with a difference." The Savoyard gentleman is entirely and
unexceptionably orthodox in religion; it may be doubted whether a severe
inquisition in matters of Sensibility would let him off scatheless. It
is not merely that he jests--as, for instance, that when he is imagining
the scene at the Rape of the Sabines, he suddenly fancies that he hears
a cry of despair from one of the visitors. "Dieux immortels! Pourquoi
n'ai-je amene ma femme a la fete?" That is quite proper and allowable.
It is the general tone of levity in the most sentimental moments, the
undercurrent of mockery at his own feelings in this man of feeling,
which is so shocking to Sensibility, and yet it was precisely this that
was inevitable.

Sensibility, to carry it out properly, required, like other elaborate
games, a very peculiar and elaborate arrangement of conditions. The
parties must be in earnest so far as not to have the slightest suspicion
that they were making themselves ridiculous, and yet not in earnest
enough to make themselves really miserable. They must have plenty of
time to spare, and not be distracted by business, serious study,
political excitement, or other disturbing causes. On the other hand, to
get too much absorbed, and arrive at Werther's end, was destructive not
only to the individual player, but to the spirit of the game. As the
century grew older, and this danger of absorption grew stronger, that
game became more and more difficult to play seriously enough, and yet
not too seriously. When the players did not blow their brains out, they
often fell into the mere libertinism from which Sensibility, properly so
called, is separated by a clear enough line. Two such examples in real
life as Rousseau and Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, one such demonstration
of the same moral in fiction as _Werther_, were enough to discourage the
man of feeling. Therefore, when he still exists, he takes to motley,
the only wear for the human race in troublesome circumstances which
beset it with unpleasant recurrence. When you cannot exactly believe
anything in religion, in politics, in literature, in art, and yet
neither wish nor know how to do without it, the safe way is to make a
not too grotesque joke of it. This is a text on which a long sermon
might be hung were it worth while. But as it is, it is sufficient to
point out that Xavier de Maistre is an extremely remarkable illustration
of the fact in the particular regi