of modern philosophy; it ran in all the veins of the times; it had
enlisted every genius, it spoke every language. Chance or Providence had
decided that this period, which elsewhere was almost barren, should be
the age of France. From the end of the reign of Louis XIV. to the
commencement of the reign of Louis XVI., nature had been prodigal of men
to France. This brilliancy continued by so many geniuses of the first
order, from Corneille to Voltaire, from Bossuet to Rousseau, from
Fénélon to Bernardin Saint Pierre, had accustomed the people to look on
this side. The focus of the ideas of the world shed thence its
brilliancy. The moral authority of the human mind was no longer at Rome.
The stir, light, direction, were from Paris; the European mind was
French. There was, and there always will be, in the French genius
something more potent than its potency, more luminous than its
splendour; and that is its warmth, its penetrating power of
communicating the attraction which it has, and which it inspires to
Europe.

The genius of the Spain of Charles V. is high and adventurous, that of
Germany is profound and severe, that of England skilful and proud, that
of France is attractive,--it is in that it has its force. Easily seduced
itself, it easily seduces other people. The other great individualities
of the world of have only their genius. France for a second genius has
its heart, and is prodigal in its thoughts, in its writings, as well as
in its national acts. When Providence wills that one desire shall fire
the world, it is first kindled in a Frenchman's soul. This communicative
quality of the character of this race--this French attraction, as yet
unaltered by the ambition of conquest,--was then the precursory mark of
the age. It seems that a providential instinct turned all the attraction
of Europe towards this point, as if motion and light could only emanate
thence. The only real echoing point of the Continent was Paris. There