emainder of the night in reading. In Germany the effect
was just as astonishing. Kant only once in his life failed to take his
afternoon walk, and this unexampled omission was due to the witchery
of the New Heloisa. Gallantry was succeeded by passion, expansion,
exaltation; moods far more dangerous for society, as all enthusiasm is
dangerous, but also far higher and pregnant with better hopes for
character. To move the sympathetic faculties is the first step towards
kindling all the other energies which make life wiser and more
fruitful. It is especially worth noticing that nothing in the
character of Julie concentrates this outburst of sympathy in
subjective broodings. Julie is the representative of one recalled to
the straight path by practical, wholesome, objective sympathy for
others, not of one expiring in unsatisfied yearnings for the sympathy
of others for herself, and in moonstruck subjective aspirations. The
women who wept over her romance read in it the lesson of duty, not of
whimpering introspection. The danger lay in the mischievous
intellectual direction which Rousseau imparted to this effusion.

The stir which the Julie communicated to the affections in so many
ways, marked progress, but in all the elements of reason she was the
most perilous of reactionaries. So hard it is with the human mind,
constituted as it is, to march forward a space further to the light,
without making some fresh swerve obliquely towards old darkness. The
great effusion of natural sentiment was in the air before the New
Heloisa appeared, to condense and turn it into definite channels. One
beautiful character, Vauven argues (1715-1747), had begun to teach the
culture of emotional instinct in some sayings of exquisite sweetness
and moderation, as that "Great thoughts come from the heart." But he
came too soon, and, alas for us all, he died young, and he made no
mark. Moderation never can make a mark in the epochs when men are
beginning to feel the urgent spirit of a new time. Diderot strove with
more powerful efforts, in the midst of all his herculean labours for
the acquisition and ordering of knowledge, in the same direction
towards the great outer world of nature, and towards the great inner
world of nature in the human breast. His criticisms on the paintings
of each year, mediocre as the paintings were, are admirable even now
for their richness and freshness. If Diderot had been endowed with
emotional tenacity, as he was with ten