rise in the heart, leaves deep and lasting traces; that which is
merely a product of art, or of eloquence, has only a passing power; it
produces its immediate effect, and that is all. But how many
philosophers are there in life who are able to distinguish the
difference? Almost always the trick is played (to use a popular
expression) before the ordinary run of men have perceived its methods.

Everything about this young man of twenty-seven was in harmony with
his character; he obeyed his vocation by cultivating philanthropy,
--the only expression which explains the philanthropist. Theodose
loved the People, for he limited his love for humanity. Like the
horticulturist who devotes himself to roses, or dahlias, or
heart's-ease, or geraniums, and pays no attention to the plants his
fancy has not selected, so this young La Rochefoucault-Liancourt gave
himself to the workingmen, the proletariat and the paupers of the
faubourgs Saint-Jacques and Saint-Marceau. The strong man, the man of
genius at bay, the worthy poor of the bourgeois class, he cut them off
from the bosom of his charity. The heart of all persons with a mania
is like those boxes with compartments, in which sugarplums are kept in
sorts: "suum cuique tribuere" is their motto; they measure to each duty
its dose. There are some philanthropists who pity nothing but the man
condemned to death. Vanity is certainly the basis of philanthropy; but
in the case of this Provencal it was calculation, a predetermined
course, a "liberal" and democratic hypocrisy, played with a perfection
that no other actor will ever attain.

Theodose did not attack the rich; he contented himself with not
understanding them; he endured them; every one, in his opinion, ought
to enjoy the fruits of his labor. He had been, he said, a fervent
disciple of Saint-Simon, but that mistake must be attributed to his