igious and moral, and all communities, cannot be otherwise
than barbarous and unhealthy, since, thus far, they are built up out of
bits and pieces, by degrees, and generally by fools and savages, in
any event by common masons, who built aimlessly, feeling their way and
devoid of principles. As far as they are concerned, they are genuine
architects, and they have principles, that is to say, Reason, Nature,
and the Rights of Man, straightforward and fruitful principles which
everybody can understand, all that has to be done is to draw their
consequences making it possible to replace the imperfect tenements
of the past with the admirable edifice of the future.--To irreverent,
Epicurean and philanthropic malcontents the temptation is a great one.
They readily adopt maxims which seem in conformity with their secret
wishes; at least they adopt them in theory and in words. The imposing
terms of liberty, justice, public good, man's dignity, are so admirable,
and besides so vague! What heart can refuse to cherish them, and what
intelligence can foretell their innumerable applications? And all the
more because, up to the last, the theory does not descend from the
heights, being confined to abstractions, resembling an academic oration,
constantly dealing with Natural Man (homme en soi) of the social
contract, with an imaginary and perfect society. Is there a courtier
at Versailles who would refuse to proclaim equality in the lands of the
Franks!--Between the two stories of the human intellect, the upper where
abstract reasoning is spun and the lower where an active faith reposes,
communication is neither complete nor immediate. A number of principles
never leave the upper stories; they remain there as curiosities, so many
fragile, clever mechanisms, freely to be seen but rarely employed. If
the proprietor sometimes transfers them to the lower story he makes but
a partial use of them; established customs, anterior and more powerful
interests and instincts restrict their employment. In this respect he
is not acting in bad faith, but as a man; each of us professing truths
which he does not put in practice. One evening Target, a dull lawyer,
having taken a pinch from the snuff-box of the Marechale de Beauvau, the
latter, whose drawing room is a small democratic club, is amazed at such
monstrous familiarity. Later, Mirabeau, on returning home just after
having voted for the abolition of the titles of nobility, takes his
servant by the ea