“No doubt of that,” he replied; “but still, to use the language of the doctor, ‘there have always been a number of genteel saints, and well-bred devotees;’ and this difference in their manners, mark you, arises entirely from a difference of humors. ‘I am far from denying,’ says my author, ‘that there are devout persons to be met with, pale and melancholy in their temperament, fond of silence and retirement, with phlegm instead of blood in their veins, and with faces of clay; but there are many others of a happier complexion, and who possess that sweet and warm humor, that genial and rectified blood, which is the true stuff that joy is made of.’ “You see,” resumed the monk, “that the love of silence and retirement is not common to all devout people; and that, as I was saying, this is the effect rather of their complexion than their piety. Those austere manners to which you refer, are, in fact, properly the character of a savage and barbarian, and, accordingly, you will find them ranked by Father Le Moine among the ridiculous and brutal manners of a moping idiot. The following is the description he has drawn of one of these in the seventh book of his Moral Pictures: ‘He has no eyes for the beauties of art or nature. Were he to indulge in anything that gave him pleasure, he would consider himself oppressed with a grievous load. On festival days, he retires to hold fellowship with the dead. He delights in a grotto rather than a palace, and prefers the stump of a tree to a throne. As to injuries and affronts, he is as insensible to them as if he had the eyes and ears of a statue. Honor and glory are idols with whom he has no acquaintance, and to whom he has no incense to offer. To him a beautiful woman is no better than a spectre; and those imperial and commanding looks—those charming tyrants who hold so many slaves in willing and chainless servitude—have no more influence over his optics than the sun over those of owls,’ &c.” “Reverend sir,” said I, “had you not told me that Father Le Moine was the author of that description, I declare I would have guessed it to be the production of some profane fellow, who had drawn it expressly with the view of turning the saints into ridicule. For if that is not the picture of a man entirely denied to those feelings which the Gospel obliges us to renounce, I confess that I know nothing of the matter.”[190] “You may now perceive, then, the extent of your ignorance,” he replied; “for these are the features of a feeble, uncultivated mind, ‘destitute of those virtuous and natural affections which it ought to possess,’ as Father Le Moine says at the close of that description. Such is his way of teaching ‘Christian virtue and philosophy,’ as he announces in his advertisement; and, in truth, it cannot be denied that this method of treating devotion is much more agreeable to the taste of the world than the old way in which they went to work before our times.”