der may wish that Julie had been less of a preacher, as
well as less of a sinner. And even as sinner, she would have been more
readily forgiven if she had been less deliberate. A maiden who
sacrifices her virtue in order that the visible consequences may force
her parents to consent to a marriage, is too strategical to be
perfectly touching. As was said by the cleverest, though not the
greatest, of all the women whose youth was fascinated by Rousseau,
when one has renounced the charms of virtue, it is at least well to
have all the charms that entire surrender of heart can bestow.[46] In
spite of this, however, Julie struck the imagination of the time, and
struck it in a way that was thoroughly wholesome. The type taught men
some respect for the dignity of women, and it taught women a firmer
respect for themselves. It is useless, even if it be possible, to
present an example too lofty for the comprehension of an age. At this
moment the most brilliant genius in the country was filling France
with impish merriment at the expense of the greatest heroine that
France had then to boast. In such an atmosphere Julie had almost the
halo of saintliness.

We may say all we choose about the inconsistency, the excess of
preaching, the excess of prudence, in the character of Julie. It was
said pungently enough by the wits of the time.[47] Nothing that could
be said on all this affected the fact, that the women between 1760
and the Revolution were intoxicated by Rousseau's creation to such a
pitch that they would pay any price for a glass out of which Rousseau
had drunk, they would kiss a scrap of paper that contained a piece of
his handwriting, and vow that no woman of true sensibility could
hesitate to consecrate her life to him, if she were only certain to be
rewarded by his attachment.[48] The booksellers were unable to meet
the demand. The book was let out at the rate of twelve sous a volume,
and the volume could not be detained beyond an hour. All classes
shared the excitement, courtiers, soldiers, lawyers, and
bourgeois.[49] Stories were told of fine ladies, dressed for the ball,
who took the book up for half an hour until the time should come for
starting; they read until midnight, and when informed that the
carriage waited, answered not a word, and when reminded by and by that
it was two o'clock, still read on, and then at four, having ordered
the horses to be taken out of the carriage, disrobed, went to bed, and
passed the r