men, is the object of the memoir that I offer you to day.

"If I have rightly grasped the object of your thought; if I succeed in
bringing to light a truth which is indisputable, but, from causes
which I am bold enough to claim to have explained, has always been
misunderstood; if by an infallible method of investigation, I establish
the dogma of equality of conditions; if I determine the principle
of civil law, the essence of justice, and the form of society; if I
annihilate property forever,--to you, gentlemen, will redound all the
glory, for it is to your aid and your inspiration that I owe it.

"My purpose in this work is the application of method to the problems of
philosophy; every other intention is foreign to and even abusive of it.

"I have spoken lightly of jurisprudence: I had the right; but I should
be unjust did I not distinguish between this pretended science and
the men who practise it. Devoted to studies both laborious and severe,
entitled in all respects to the esteem of their fellow-citizens by their
knowledge and eloquence our legists deserve but one reproach, that of an
excessive deference to arbitrary laws.

"I have been pitiless in my criticism of the economists: for them
I confess that, in general, I have no liking. The arrogance and
the emptiness of their writings, their impertinent pride and their
unwarranted blunders, have disgusted me. Whoever, knowing them, pardons
them, may read them.

"I have severely blamed the learned Christian Church: it was my duty.
This blame results from the facts which I call attention to: why has
the Church decreed concerning things which it does not understand? The
Church has erred in dogma and in morals; physics and mathematics
testify against her. It may be wrong for me to say it, but surely it
is unfortunate for Christianity that it is true. To restore religion,
gentlemen, it is necessary to condemn the Church.

"Perhaps you will regret, gentlemen, that, in giving all my attention to
method and evidence, I have too much neglected form and style: in vain
should I have tried to do better. Literary hope and faith I have none.
The nineteenth century is, in my eyes, a genesic era, in which new
principles are elaborated, but in which nothing that is written shall
endure. That is the reason, in my opinion, why, among so many men of
talent, France to-day counts not one great writer. In a society like
ours, to seek for literary glory seems to me an anachronism. Of wh