come；　under　what　obstructions　and　perversions　soever。　　They　are　_sincere_　words；　those　of　his；　he　means　things　by　them。　　A　wondrous　buckram　style；the　best　he　could　get　to　then；　a　measured　grandiloquence；　stepping　or　rather　stalking　along　in　a　very　solemn　way；　grown　obsolete　now；　sometimes　a　tumid　_size_　of　phraseology　not　in　proportion　to　the　contents　of　it：　　all　this　you　will　put　up　with。　　For　the　phraseology；　tumid　or　not；　has　always　_something　within　it_。　　So　many　beautiful　styles　and　books；　with　_nothing_　in　them；a　man　is　a　malefactor　to　the　world　who　writes　such！　_They_　are　the　avoidable　kind！Had　Johnson　left　nothing　but　his　_Dictionary_；　one　might　have　traced　there　a　great　intellect；　a　genuine　man。　Looking　to　its　clearness　of　definition；　its　general　solidity；　honesty；　insight　and　successful　method；　it　may　be　called　the　best　of　all　Dictionaries。　　There　is　in　it　a　kind　of　architectural　nobleness；　it　stands　there　like　a　great　solid　square…built　edifice；　finished；　symmetrically　complete：　　you　judge　that　a　true　Builder　did　it。
  One　word；　in　spite　of　our　haste；　must　be　granted　to　poor　Bozzy。　　He　passes　for　a　mean；　inflated；　gluttonous　creature；　and　was　so　in　many　senses。　　Yet　the　fact　of　his　reverence　for　Johnson　will　ever　remain　noteworthy。　　The　foolish　conceited　Scotch　Laird；　the　most　conceited　man　of　his　time；　approaching　in　such　awe…struck　attitude　the　great　dusty　irascible　Pedagogue　in　his　mean　garret　there：　　it　is　a　genuine　reverence　for　Excellence；　a　_worship_　for　Heroes；　at　a　time　when　neither　Heroes　nor　worship　were　surmised　to　exist。　　Heroes；　it　would　seem；　exist　always；　and　a　certain　worship　of　them！　　We　will　also　take　the　liberty　to　deny　altogether　that　of　the　witty　Frenchman；　that　no　man　is　a　Hero　to　his　valet…de…chambre。　　Or　if　so；　it　is　not　the　Hero's　blame；　but　the　Valet's：　　that　his　soul；　namely；　is　a　mean　_valet_…soul！　　He　expects　his　Hero　to　advance　in　royal　stage…trappings；　with　measured　step；　trains　borne　behind　him；　trumpets　sounding　before　him。　　It　should　stand　rather；　No　man　can　be　a　_Grand…　Monarque_　to　his　valet…de…chambre。　　Strip　your　Louis　Quatorze　of　his　king…gear；　and　there　_is_　left　nothing　but　a　poor　forked　radish　with　a　head　fantastically　carved；admirable　to　no　valet。　　The　Valet　does　not　know　a　Hero　when　he　sees　him！　　Alas；　no：　　it　requires　a　kind　of　_Hero_　to　do　that；and　one　of　the　world's　wants；　in　_this_　as　in　other　senses；　is　for　most　part　want　of　such。
  On　the　whole；　shall　we　not　say；　that　Boswell's　admiration　was　well　bestowed；　that　he　could　have　found　no　soul　in　all　England　so　worthy　of　bending　down　before？　　Shall　we　not　say；　of　this　great　mournful　Johnson　too；　that　he　guided　his　difficult　confused　existence　wisely；　led　it　_well_；　like　a　right　valiant　man？　　That　waste　chaos　of　Authorship　by　trade；　that　waste　chaos　of　Scepticism　in　religion　and　politics；　in　life…theory　and　life…practice；　in　his　poverty；　in　his　dust　and　dimness；　with　the　sick　body　and　the　rusty　coat：　　he　made　it　do　for　him；　like　a　brave　man。　　Not　wholly　without　a　loadstar　in　the　Eternal；　he　had　still　a　loadstar；　as　the　brave　all　need　to　have：　　with　his　eye　set　on　that；　he　would　change　his　course　for　nothing　in　these　confused　vortices　of　the　lower　sea　of　Time。　　〃To　the　Spirit　of　Lies；　bearing　death　and　hunger；　he　would　in　nowise　strike　his　flag。〃　　Brave　old　Samuel：　　_ultimus　Romanorum_！
  Of　Rousseau　and　his　Heroism　I　cannot　say　so　much。　　He　is　not　what　I　call　a　strong　man。　　A　morbid；　excitable；　spasmodic　man；　at　best；　intense　rather　than　strong。　　He　had　not　〃the　talent　of　Silence；〃　an　invaluable　talent；　which　few　Frenchmen；　or　indeed　men　of　any　sort　in　these　times；　excel　in！　The　suffering　man　ought　really　〃to　consume　his　own　smoke；〃　there　is　no　good　in　emitting　_smoke_　till　you　have　made　it　into　_fire_；which；　in　the　metaphorical　sense　too；　all　smoke　is　capable　of　becoming！　　Rousseau　has　not　depth　or　width；　not　calm　force　for　difficulty；　the　first　characteristic　of　true　greatness。　　A　fundamental　mistake　to　call　vehemence　and　rigidity　strength！　　A　man　is　not　strong　who　takes　convulsion…fits；　though　six　men　cannot　hold　him　then。　　He　that　can　walk　under　the　heaviest　weight　without　staggering；　he　is　the　strong　man。　　We　need　forever；　especially　in　these　loud…shrieking　days；　to　remind　ourselves　of　that。　　A　man　who　cannot　_hold　his　peace_；　till　the　time　come　for　speaking　and　acting；　is　no　right　man。
  Poor　Rousseau's　face　is　to　me　expressive　of　him。　　A　high　but　narrow　contracted　intensity　in　it：　　bony　brows；　deep；　strait…set　eyes；　in　which　there　is　something　bewildered…looking；bewildered；　peering　with　lynx…eagerness。　　A　face　full　of　misery；　even　ignoble　misery；　and　also　of　the　antagonism　against　that；　something　mean；　plebeian　there；　redeemed　only　by　_intensity_：　　the　face　of　what　is　called　a　Fanatic；a　sadly　_contracted_　Hero！　　We　name　him　here　because；　with　all　his　drawbacks；　and　they　are　many；　he　has　the　first　and　chief　characteristic　of　a　Hero：　　he　is　heartily　_in　earnest_。　　In　earnest；　if　ever　man　was；　as　none　of　these　French　Philosophers　were。　　Nay；　one　would　say；　of　an　earnestness　too　great　for　his　otherwise　sensitive；　rather　feeble　nature；　and　which　indeed　in　the　end　drove　him　into　the　strangest　incoherences；　almost　delirations。　　There　had　come；　at　last；　to　be　a　kind　of　madness　in　him：　　his　Ideas　_possessed_　him　like　demons；　hurried　him　so　about；　drove　him　over　steep　places！
  The　fault　and　misery　of　Rousseau　was　what　we　easily　name　by　a　single　word；　_Egoism_；　which　is　indeed　the　source　and　summary　of　all　faults　and　miseries　whatsoever。　　He　had　not　perfected　himself　into　victory　over　mere　Desire；　a　mean　Hunger；　in　many　sorts；　was　still　the　motive　principle　of　him。　　I　am　afraid　he　was　a　very　vain　man；　hungry　for　the　praises　of　men。　　You　remember　Genlis's　experience　of　him。　　She　took　Jean　Jacques　to　the　Theatre；　he　bargaining　for　a　strict　incognito；〃He　would　not　be　seen　there　for　the　world！〃　　The　curtain　did　happen　nevertheless　to　be　drawn　aside：　　the　Pit　recognized　Jean　Jacques；　but　took　no　great　notice　of　him！　　He　expressed　the　bitterest　indignation；　gloomed　all　evening；　spake　no　other　than　surly　words。　　The　glib　Countess　remained　entirely　convinced　that　his　anger　was　not　at　being　seen；　but　at　not　being　applauded　when　seen。　　How　the　whole　nature　of　the　man　is　poisoned；　nothing　but　suspicion；　self…isolation；　fierce　moody　ways！　　He　could　not　live　with　anybody。　　A　man　of　some　rank　from　the　country；　who　visited　him　often；　and　used　to　sit　with　him；　expressing　all　reverence　and　affection　for　him；　comes　one　day；　finds　Jean　Jacques　full　of　the　sourest　unintelligible　humor。　　〃Monsieur；〃　said　Jean　Jacques；　with　flaming　eyes；　〃I　know　why　you　come　here。　　You　come　to　see　what　a　poor　life　I　lead；　how　little　is　in　my　poor　pot　that　is　boiling　there。　　Well；　look　into　the　pot！　　There　is　half　a　pound　of　meat；　one　carrot　and　three　onions；　that　is　all：　　go　and　tell　the　whole　world　that；　if　you　like；　Monsieur！〃A　man　of　this　sort　was　far　gone。　　The　whole　world　got　itself　supplied　with　anecdotes；　for　light　laughter；　for　a　certain　theatrical　interest；　from　these　perversions　and　contortions　of　poor　Jean　Jacques。　　Alas；　to　him　they　were　not　laughing　or　theatrical；　too　real　to　him！　　The　contortions　of　a　dying　gladiator：　　the　crowded　amphitheatre　looks　on　with　entertainment；　but　the　gladiator　is　in　agonies　and　dying。
  And　yet　this　Rousseau；　as　we　say；　with　his　passionate　appeals　to　Mothers；　with　his　_contrat…social_；　with　his　celebrations　of　Nature；　even　of　savage　life　in　Nature；　did　once　more　touch　upon　Reality；　struggle　towards　Reality；　was　doing　the　function　of　a　Prophet　to　his　Time。　　As　he　could；　and　as　the　Time　could！　　Strangely　through　all　that　defacement；　degradation　and　almost　madness；　there　is　in　the　inmost　heart　of　poor　Rousseau　a　spark　of　real　heavenly　fire。　　Once　more；　out　of　the　element　of　that　withered　mocking　Philosophism；　Scepticism　and　Persiflage；　there　has　arisen　in　this　man　the　ineradicable　feeling　and　knowledge　that　this　Life　of　ours　is　true：　　not　a　Scepticism；　Theorem；　or　Persiflage；　but　a　Fact；　an　awful　Reality。　　Nature　had　made　that　revelation　to　him；　had　ordered　him　to　speak　it　out。　　He　got　it　spoken　out；　if　not　well　and　clearly；　then　ill　and　dimly；as　clearly　as　he　could。　　Nay　what　are　all　errors　and　perversities　of　his；　even　those　stealings　of　ribbons；　aimless　confused　miseries　and　vagabondisms；　if　we　will　interpret　them　kindly；　but　the　blinkard　dazzlement　and　staggerings　to　and　fro　of　a　man　sent　on　an　errand　he　is　too　weak　for；　by　a　path　he　cannot　yet　find？　　Men　are　led　by　strange　ways。　　One　should　have　tolerance　for　a　man；　hope　of　him；　leave　him　to　try　yet　what　he　will　do。　　While　life　lasts；　hope　lasts　for　every　man。
  Of　Rousseau's　literary　talents；　greatly　celebrated　still　among　his　countrymen；　I　do　not　say　much。　　His　Books；　like　himself；　are　what　I　call　unhealthy；　not　the　good　sort　of　Books。　　There　is　a　sensuality　in　Rousseau。　Combined　with　such　an　intellectual　gift　as　his；　it　makes　pictures　of　a　certain　gorgeous　attractiveness：　　but　they　are　not　genuinely　poetical。　　Not　white　sunlight：　　something　_operatic_；　a　kind　of　rose…pink；　artificial　bedizenment。　　It　is　frequent；　or　rather　it　is　universal；　among　the　French　since　his　time。　　Madame　de　Stael　has　something　of　it；　St。　Pierre；　and　down　onwards　to　the　present　astonishing　co