ker, sagely meditating on the ideal man, rather than of a parent
who is living the life of his child through with him. Rousseau's
interest in children, though perfectly sincere, was still aesthetic,
moral, reasonable, rather than that pure flood of full-hearted feeling
for them, which is perhaps seldom stirred except in those who have
actually brought up children of their own. He composed a vindication
of his love for the young in an exquisite piece;[289] but it has none
of the yearnings of the bowels of tenderness.

II.

Education being the art of preparing the young to grow into
instruments of happiness for themselves and others, a writer who
undertakes to speak about it must naturally have some conception of
the kind of happiness at which his art aims. We have seen enough of
Rousseau's own life to know what sort of ideal he would be likely to
set up. It is a healthier epicureanism, with enough stoicism to make
happiness safe in case that circumstances should frown. The man who
has lived most is not he who has counted most years, but he who has
most felt life.[290] It is mere false wisdom to throw ourselves
incessantly out of ourselves, to count the present for nothing, ever
to pursue without ceasing a future which flees in proportion as we
advance, to try to transport ourselves from whence we are not, to some
place where we shall never be.[291] He is happiest who suffers fewest
pains, and he is most miserable who feels fewest pleasures. Then we
have a half stoical strain. The felicity of man here below is only a
negative state, to be measured by the more or less of the ills he
undergoes. It is in the disproportion between desires and faculties
that our misery consists. Happiness, therefore, lies not in
diminishing our desires, nor any more in extending our faculties, but
in diminishing the excess of desire over faculty, and in bringing
power and will into perfect balance.[292] Excepting health, strength,
respect for one's self, all the goods of this life reside in opinion;
excepting bodily pain and remorse of conscience, all our ills are in
imagination. Death is no evil; it is only made so by half-knowledge
and false wisdom. "Live according to nature, be patient, and drive
away physicians; you will not avoid death, but you will only feel it
once, while they on the other hand would bring it daily before your
troubled imagination, and their false art, instead of prolonging your
days, only hinders you from enjoying