discernment in themselves; that they have no
moving spring in them; that they are inert matter, passive particles,
atoms without impulse; at best a vegetation indifferent to its own mode
of existence, susceptible of receiving, from an exterior will and hand,
an infinite number of forms, more or less symmetrical, artistic, and
perfected.

Moreover, every one of these politicians does not scruple to imagine
that he himself is, under the names of organiser, discoverer,
legislator, institutor or founder, this will and hand, this universal
spring, this creative power, whose sublime mission it is to gather
together these scattered materials, that is, men, into society.

Starting from these data, as a gardener, according to his caprice,
shapes his trees into pyramids, parasols, cubes, cones, vases,
espaliers, distaffs, or fans; so the Socialist, following his chimera,
shapes poor humanity into groups, series, circles, sub-circles,
honeycombs, or social workshops, with all kinds of variations. And as
the gardener, to bring his trees into shape, wants hatchets,
pruning-hooks, saws, and shears, so the politician, to bring society
into shape, wants the forces which he can only find in the laws; the law
of customs, the law of taxation, the law of assistance, and the law of
instruction.

It is so true, that the Socialists look upon mankind as a subject for
social combinations, that if, by chance, they are not quite certain of
the success of these combinations, they will request a portion of
mankind, as a subject to experiment upon. It is well known how popular
the idea of _trying all systems_ is, and one of their chiefs has been
known seriously to demand of the Constituent Assembly a parish, with all
its inhabitants, upon which to make his experiments.

It is thus that an inventor will make a small machine before he makes
one of the regular size. Thus the chemist sacrifices some substances,
the agriculturist some seed and a corner of his field, to make trial of
an idea.

But, then, think of the immeasurable distance between the gardener and
his trees, between the inventor and his machine, between the chemist and
his substances, between the agriculturist and his seed! The Socialist
thinks, in all sincerity, that there is the same distance between
himself and mankind.

It is not to be wondered at that the politicians of the nineteenth
century look upon society as an artificial production of the
legislator's genius. This idea,