On the other hand, there are a few master-spirits—­men not of an age but for all time—­whose power has been so deeply infused, so generally and silently absorbed, that it would be vain to inquire how it has operated in detail.  We cannot indicate the course or fix the limits of its action:  we perceive only that without it our intellectual life must have been dormant or extinct.  Rousseau belongs to neither of these classes.  His power was not general but specific, not creative but stimulative, not a source of perennial light but the torch of a conflagration; yet it was original and independent, it did not co-operate but clashed with that of his contemporaries, and while it acted upon minds far higher and broader than his own, it received no aid except from disciples and imitators.  Of the French Revolution we may say with precision and confidence that it owed primarily its peculiar character—­its austere ideals and wild distortions, its illimitable aspirations and chaotic endeavors—­to the extent to which the nation had become imbued with his spirit and theories.  In regard to literature, it is not sufficient to point to a long list of celebrated writers, from Chateaubriand and De Stael to Lamartine and George Sand, whose works have reflected the characteristic hues of his sentiment and style; or to adduce particular instances of his influence upon writers of higher and more contrasted genius, such as Goethe and Byron, Schiller and Richter:  what is to be noted, as underlying all such examples and illustrations, is the fact that a literature distinguished from that which had immediately preceded it by earnestness, simplicity and depth, by spontaneous and vivid conceptions and freedom from conventional restraints, had its beginning with him, appealing to emotions and ideas which he was the first to call into renewed and general activity.  In education, in art, in modifications of religious opinion and of social life, the same force, if less measurable and distinct, is everywhere apparent either as an active participant or a strong original impulse.

It need hardly be said that, as productions of genius, the writings of Rousseau cannot hold any rank proportionate to the effect which they thus produced.  They are not among the treasures that constitute our intellectual capital, the possessions which we could not lose without becoming bankrupt.  They are rather among the instruments which, having served their purpose, may be laid aside, however interesting as mementoes or admirable as curiosities.  Their highest qualities—­their fervor, simplicity and grace—­do not of themselves disclose the secret of their power.  From the point of view of mere literary criticism we are apt to be more observant of their defects than their beauties.  By the side of earlier and later models they are seen to be deficient in the very qualities—­force of passion and depth of thought—­by which they startled or enthralled contemporary readers.