n of the book is an
apology for Seneca or a vindication of Denis Diderot. As Grimm said, we
have to make up our minds to see the author suddenly pass from the
palace of the Caesars to the garret of MM. Royou, Grosier, and company;
from Paris to Rome, and from Rome back again to Paris; from the reign
of Claudius to the reign of Lewis XV.; from the college of the Sorbonne
to the college of the augurs; to turn now to the masters of the world,
and now to the yelping curs of literature; to see him in his dramatic
enthusiasm making the one speak and the others answer; apostrophising
himself and apostrophising his readers, and leaving them often enough in
perplexity as to the personage who is speaking and the personage whom he
addresses.[185] We may agree with Grimm that this gives an air of
originality to the performance, but such originality is of a kind to
displease the serious student, without really attracting the few readers
who have a taste for rebelling against the pedantries of literary form.
We become confused by the long strain of uncertainty whether we are
reading about the Roman Emperor or the French King; about Seneca,
Burrhus, and Thrasea, or Turgot, Malesherbes, and Necker.

[185] Grimm, _Corr. Lit._, xi. 77.

Diderot's candour, simplicity, happy bonhommie, and sincerity in real
interests raised him habitually above the pettiness, the bustling
malice, the vain self-consciousness, the personalities that infest all
literary and social cliques. It is surprising at first that Diderot, who
had all his life borne the sting of the gnats of Grub Street with decent
composure, should have been so moved by Rousseau, or by meaner
assailants, whom Rousseau himself would have rudely disclaimed. The
explanation seems to lie in this fact of human character, that a man of
Diderot's temperament, while entirely heedless of criticism directed
against his opinions or his public position, is specially sensitive to
innuendoes against his private benevolence and loyalty. An insult to the
force of his understanding was indifferent to him, but an affront to
one's _belle ame_ is beyond pardon. It was hard that a man who had
prodigally thrown away the forces of his life for others should be
charged with malignity of heart and an incapacity for friendship. This
was the harder, because it was the moral fashion of that day to place
friendliness, amiability, the desire to please and to serve, at the very
head of all the virtues. The whol