which his contemporaries were so busy introducing into society were
worse than useless--the mere patching of an edifice which would never be
fit to live in. He believed that it was necessary to start altogether
afresh. And what makes him so singularly interesting a figure is that,
in more than one sense, he was right. It _was_ necessary to start
afresh; and the new world which was to spring from the old one was to
embody, in a multitude of ways, the visions of Rousseau. He was a
prophet, with the strange inspiration of a prophet--and the dishonour in
his own country.

But inspiration and dishonour are not the only characteristics of
prophets: as a rule, they are also highly confused in the delivery of
their prophecies; and Rousseau was no exception. In his writings, the
true gist of his meaning seems to be only partially revealed; and it is
clear that he himself was never really aware of the fundamental notions
that lay at the back of his thought. Hence nothing can be easier than to
pull his work to pieces, and to demonstrate beyond a doubt that it is
full of fallacies, inconsistencies, and absurdities. It is very easy to
point out that the _Control Social_ is a miserable piece of
logic-chopping, to pour scorn on the stilted sentiment and distorted
morality of _La Nouvelle Héloïse_, and finally to draw a cutting
comparison between Rousseau's preaching and his practice, as it stands
revealed in the _Confessions_--the lover of independence who never
earned his own living, the apostle of equality who was a snob, and the
educationist who left his children in the Foundling Hospital. All this
has often been done, and no doubt will often be done again; but it is
futile. Rousseau lives, and will live, a vast and penetrating influence,
in spite of all his critics. There is something in him that eludes their
foot-rules. It is so difficult to take the measure of a soul!