But the founder of a nation must propose to himself a design. He has his human material to set in motion, and he must direct its movements to a definite result. As the people are deprived of the initiative, and all depends upon the legislator, he must decide whether the nation is to be commercial or agricultural, or a barbarous race of hunters and fishers; but it is desirable at the same time that the legislator should not himself be mistaken, and so do too much violence to the nature of things.
Men in agreeing to enter into an association, or rather in associating under the fiat of a lawgiver, have a precise and definite design. “Thus,” says Rousseau, “the Hebrews, and, more recently, the Arabs, had for their principal object religion; the [p059] Athenians, letters; Carthage and Tyre, commerce; Rhodes, navigation; Sparta, war; and Rome, virtue.”
What object is to determine us Frenchmen to leave the state of isolation and of nature, in order to form a society? Or rather—as we are only so much inert matter—the materials of a machine,—towards what object shall our great founder direct us?
Following the ideas of Rousseau, there could be but little room for learning, commerce, or navigation. War is a nobler object, and virtue still more so. But there is another, the noblest of all: “The end of every system of legislation is liberty and equality.”
But we must first of all discover what Rousseau understands by liberty. To enjoy liberty, according to him, is not to be free, but to exercise the suffrage, when we are “borne along without violence, and persuaded without being convinced;” for then “we obey with freedom, and bear willingly the yoke of the public felicity.”
“Among the Greeks,” he says, “all that the people had to do they did for themselves, they were constantly assembled in the market-place; they inhabited a genial climate; they were not avaricious; slaves did all their work; their grand concern was their liberty.”
“The English people,” he remarks in another place, “believe themselves free,—they are much mistaken. They are so only during the election of their members of parliament; the moment the election is over, they are slaves—they are nothing.”
The people, if they will be free, must, then, themselves perform all duties in connexion with the public service, for it is in that that liberty consists. They must be always voting and electing, always in the market-place. Woe to him who takes it into his head to work for his living! the moment a citizen begins to mind his own affairs, that instant (to use Rousseau’s favourite phrase) tout est perdu—all is over with him.
And yet the difficulty is by no means trifling. How are we to manage? for, after all, before we can either practise virtue, or exercise liberty, we must have the means of living.
We have already remarked the rhetorical veil under which Rousseau conceals the word Imposture. We shall now see how, by another dash of eloquence, he evades the conclusion of his whole work, which is Slavery.