Voltaire's manner, we almost seem to see him abjuring the consciences
of his contemporaries for not having learned long ago what the modern
Voltaire had to offer them. "Even his excellences are wonderfully
uniform," he says: "simple naturalness, transparent clearness,
vivacious mobility, seductive charm. Warmth and emphasis are also not
wanting where they are needed, and Voltaire's innermost nature always
revolted against stiltedness and affectation; while, on the other
hand, if at times wantonness or passion descend to an unpleasantly low
level, the fault does not rest so much with the stylist as with the
man." According to this, Strauss seems only too well aware of the
importance of simplicity in style; it is ever the sign of genius,
which alone has the privilege to express itself naturally and
guilelessly. When, therefore, an author selects a simple mode of
expression, this is no sign whatever of vulgar ambition; for although
many are aware of what such an author would fain be taken for, they
are yet kind enough to take him precisely for that. The genial writer,
however, not only reveals his true nature in the plain and
unmistakable form of his utterance, but his super-abundant strength
actually dallies with the material he treats, even when it is
dangerous and difficult. Nobody treads stiffly along unknown paths,
especially when these are broken throughout their course by thousands
of crevices and furrows; but the genius speeds nimbly over them, and,
leaping with grace and daring, scorns the wistful and timorous step of
caution.

Even Strauss knows that the problems he prances over are dreadfully
serious, and have ever been regarded as such by the philosophers who
have grappled with them; yet he calls his book lightly equipped! But
of this dreadfulness and of the usual dark nature of our meditations
when considering such questions as the worth of existence and the