t Eloisa. Julie, like Eloisa, has been a consenting
party. Obedient to her father's will, Julie marries Wolmar. In despair
Saint-Preux wanders abroad. Wolmar offers him his friendship and a
home. The lovers meet, are tried, and do not yield to the temptation.
Julie dies a victim to her maternal devotion, and not too
soon--"Another day, perhaps, and I were guilty!"

In 1757 Rousseau conceived the design of his romance. It might have
been coldly edifying had not the writer's consuming passion for Madame
d'Houdetot, awakening all that he had felt as the lover of Madame
de Warens, filled it with intensity of ardour. In the first part of
the romance, passion asserts the primitive rights of nature; in the
second part, those rights are shown to be no longer rights in an
organised society. But the ideal of domestic life exhibited is one
far removed from the artificialities of the world of fashion: it is
a life of plain duties, patriarchal manners, and gracious beneficence.
Rousseau the moralist is present to rebuke Rousseau the
sentimentalist; yet the sentimentalist has his own persuasive power.
The emotion of the lovers is reinforced by the penetrating influences
of the beauty of external nature; and both are interpreted with
incomparable harmonies of style and poignant lyrical cries, in which
the violin note outsoars the orchestra.

A reform of domestic life must result in a reform of education.
Rousseau's ideal of education, capable of adaptations and
modifications according to circumstances, is presented in his
_Emile_. How shall a child be formed in accordance, not with the
vicious code of an artificial society, but in harmony with nature?
Rousseau traces the course of Emile's development from birth to adult
years. Unconstrained by swaddling-bands, suckled by his mother, the
child enjoys the freedom of nature, and at five years old passes into
the care of his father or his tutor. During the earlier years his
education is to be negative: let him be preserved from all that is
false or artificial, and enter upon the heritage of childhood, the
gladness of animal life, vigorous delights in sunshine and open air;
at twelve he will hardly have opened a book, but he will have been
in vital relation with real things, he will unconsciously have laid
the foundations of wisdom. When the time for study comes, that study
should be simple and sound--no Babel of words, but a wholesome
knowledge of things; he may have learnt little, but