cience; when
they are not present to our memory, we have only what is called taste,
instinct, and tact. The reasons for showing ourselves sensible to the
recital of good actions are numberless: we reveal a quality that is
worthy of infinite esteem; we promise to others our esteem, if ever they
deserve it by any uncommon or worthy piece of conduct.... Independently
of all these views of interest, we have a notion of order, and a taste
for order, which we cannot resist, and which drags us along in spite of
ourselves. Every fine action implies sacrifice; and it is impossible for
us not to pay our homage to self-sacrifice"--and so forth.[224]

Alas, all these endless debates and dialogues lacked the inspiration and
the charm with which the genius of a Plato could adorn the narrowest
quibble between Socrates and a Sophist. "Diderot," said Mademoiselle de
Lespinasse, "is an extraordinary man; he is out of his place in society;
he was meant for the chief of a sect, a Greek philosopher, instructing
youth. He pleases me greatly, but his manner does not touch my
soul."[225] And we understand this. People disputed what virtue is, but
the dispute failed in that undefined spirit which makes men love and
adore virtue. Goodness is surrounded with no spacious beauty, it is
clothed with none of the high associations of spontaneous piety. The
discussion seems close, stifling, and airless. Yet ages of loftier
speech and greater spirituality have not always been so favourable to
the affections or to the attachments of life. In amiability that society
has never been surpassed; in sincerity of mutual sympathy and kindliness
of mutual regard. The common irregularity of morals was seen to be
perfectly compatible not merely with a desire to please, but with an
honest anxiety to serve.

Of the thorough excellence of Diderot's heart, of his friendliness and
unwearied helpfulness, time would fail us to tell. Men's conceptions of
friendship differ as widely as their conceptions of other things. Some
look to friendship for absolute exemption from all criticism, and for a
mutual admiration without limit or conditions. Others mistake it for the
right of excessive criticism, in season and out of season.

Diderot was content to take friendship as the right, the duty, or the
privilege of rendering services, without thought of requiring either
them, or gratitude for them, back in return. This we must confess to be
rare. No man that ever lived showed mor