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<h2> LETTER CXVI </h2>
<h3> LONDON, June 11, O. S. 1750 </h3>
<p>MY DEAR FRIEND: The President Montesquieu (whom you will be acquainted
with at Paris), after having laid down in his book, 'De l'Esprit des
Lois', the nature and principles of the three different kinds of
government, viz, the democratical, the monarchical, and the despotic,
treats of the education necessary for each respective form. His chapter
upon the education proper for the monarchical I thought worth transcribing
and sending to you. You will observe that the monarchy which he has in his
eye is France:—</p>
<p>"In monarchies, the principal branch of education is not taught in
colleges or academies. It commences, in some measure, at our setting out
in the world; for this is the school of what we call honor, that universal
preceptor, which ought everywhere to be our guide.</p>
<p>"Here it is that we constantly hear three rules or maxims, viz: That we
should have a certain nobleness in our virtues, a kind of frankness in our
morals, and a particular politeness in our behavior.</p>
<p>"The virtues we are here taught, are less what we owe to others, than to
ourselves; they are not so much what draws us toward society, as what
distinguishes us from our fellow-citizens.</p>
<p>"Here the actions of men are judged, not as virtuous, but as shining; not
as just, but as great; not as reasonable, but as extraordinary.</p>
<p>"When honor here meets with anything noble in our actions, it is either a
judge that approves them, or a sophister by whom they are excused.</p>
<p>"It allows of gallantry, when united with the idea of sensible affection,
or with that of conquest; this is the reason why we never meet with so
strict a purity of morals in monarchies as in republican governments.</p>
<p>"It allows of cunning and craft, when joined with the notion of greatness
of soul or importance of affairs; as, for instance, in politics, with
whose finenesses it is far from being offended.</p>
<p>"It does not forbid adulation, but when separate from the idea of a large
fortune, and connected only with the sense of our mean condition.</p>
<p>"With regard to morals, I have observed, that the education of monarchies
ought to admit of a certain frankness and open carriage. Truth, therefore,
in conversation, is here a necessary point. But is it for the sake of
truth. By no means. Truth is requisite only, because a person habituated
to veracity has an air of boldness and freedom. And, indeed, a man of this
stamp seems to lay a stress only on the things themselves, not on the
manner in which they are received.</p>
<p>"Hence it is, that in proportion as this kind of frankness is commended,
that of the common people is despised, which has nothing but truth and
simplicity for its object.</p>
<p>"In fine, the education of monarchies requires a certain politeness of
behavior. Man, a sociable animal, is formed to please in society; and a
person that would break through the rules of decency, so as to shock those
he conversed with, would lose the public esteem, and become incapable of
doing any good.</p>
<p>"But politeness, generally speaking, does not derive its original from so
pure a source. It arises from a desire of distinguishing ourselves. It is
pride that renders us polite; we are flattered with being taken notice of
for a behavior that shows we are not of a mean condition, and that we have
not been bred up with those who in all ages are considered as the scum of
the people.</p>
<p>"Politeness, in monarchies, is naturalized at court. One man excessively
great renders everybody else little. Hence that regard which is paid to
our fellow-subjects; hence that politeness, equally pleasing to those by
whom, as to those toward whom, it is practiced; because it gives people to
understand that a person actually belongs, or at least deserves to belong,
to the court.</p>
<p>"A court air consists in quitting a real for a borrowed greatness. The
latter pleases the courtier more than the former. It inspires him with a
certain disdainful modesty, which shows itself externally, but whose pride
insensibly diminishes in proportion to his distance from the source of
this greatness.</p>
<p>"At court we find a delicacy of taste in everything; a delicacy arising
from the constant use of the superfluities of life; from the variety, and
especially the satiety of pleasures; from the multiplicity and even
confusion of fancies, which, if they are not agreeable, are sure of being
well received.</p>
<p>"These are the things which properly fall within the province of
education, in order to form what we call a man of honor, a man possessed
of all the qualities and virtues requisite in this kind of government.</p>
<p>"Here it is that honor interferes with everything, mixing even with
people's manner of thinking, and directing their very principles.</p>
<p>"To this whimsical honor it is owing that the virtues are only just what
it pleases; it adds rules of its own invention to everything prescribed to
us; it extends or limits our duties according to its own fancy, whether
they proceed from religion, politics, or morality.</p>
<p>"There is nothing so strongly inculcated in monarchies, by the laws, by
religion, and honor, as submission to the Prince's will, but this very
honor tells us, that the Prince never ought to command a dishonorable
action, because this would render us incapable of serving him.</p>
<p>"Crillon refused to assassinate the Duke of Guise, but offered to fight
him. After the massacre of St. Bartholomew, Charles IX., having sent
orders to the governors in the several provinces for the Huguenots to be
murdered, Viscount Dorte, who commanded at Bayonne, wrote thus to the
King: 'Sire, Among the inhabitants of this town, and your Majesty's
troops, I could not find so much as one executioner; they are honest
citizens and brave soldiers. We jointly, therefore, beseech your Majesty
to command our arms and lives in things that are practicable.' This great
and generous soul looked upon a base action as a thing impossible.</p>
<p>"There is nothing that honor more strongly recommends to the nobility,
than to serve their Prince in a military capacity. And indeed this is
their favorite profession, because its dangers, its success, and even its
miscarriages, are the road to grandeur. Yet this very law, of its own
making, honor chooses to explain; and in case of any affront, it requires
or permits us to retire.</p>
<p>"It insists also, that we should be at liberty either to seek or to reject
employments; a liberty which it prefers even to an ample fortune.</p>
<p>"Honor, therefore, has its supreme laws, to which education is obliged to
conform. The chief of these are, that we are permitted to set a value upon
our fortune, but are absolutely forbidden to set any upon our lives.</p>
<p>"The second is, that when we are raised to a post or preferment, we should
never do or permit anything which may seem to imply that we look upon
ourselves as inferior to the rank we hold.</p>
<p>"The third is, that those things which honor forbids are more rigorously
forbidden, when the laws do not concur in the prohibition; and those it
commands are more strongly insisted upon, when they happen not to be
commanded by law."</p>
<p>Though our government differs considerably from the French, inasmuch as we
have fixed laws and constitutional barriers for the security of our
liberties and properties, yet the President's observations hold pretty
near as true in England as in France. Though monarchies may differ a good
deal, kings differ very little. Those who are absolute desire to continue
so, and those who are not, endeavor to become so; hence the same maxims
and manners almost in all courts: voluptuousness and profusion encouraged,
the one to sink the people into indolence, the other into poverty—consequently
into dependence. The court is called the world here as well as at Paris;
and nothing more is meant by saying that a man knows the world, than that
he knows courts. In all courts you must expect to meet with connections
without friendship, enmities without hatred, honor without virtue,
appearances saved, and realities sacrificed; good manners with bad morals;
and all vice and virtues so disguised, that whoever has only reasoned upon
both would know neither when he first met them at court. It is well that
you should know the map of that country, that when you come to travel in
it, you may do it with greater safety.</p>
<p>From all this you will of yourself draw this obvious conclusion: That you
are in truth but now going to the great and important school, the world;
to which Westminster and Leipsig were only the little preparatory schools,
as Marylebone, Windsor, etc., are to them. What you have already acquired
will only place you in the second form of this new school, instead of the
first. But if you intend, as I suppose you do, to get into the shell, you
have very different things to learn from Latin and Greek: and which
require much more sagacity and attention than those two dead languages;
the language of pure and simple nature; the language of nature variously
modified and corrupted by passions, prejudices, and habits; the language
of simulation and dissimulation: very hard, but very necessary to
decipher. Homer has not half so many, nor so difficult dialects, as the
great book of the school you are now going to. Observe, therefore,
progressively, and with the greatest attention, what the best scholars in
the form immediately above you do, and so on, until you get into the shell
yourself. Adieu.</p>
<p>Pray tell Mr. Harte that I have received his letter of the 27th May, N.
S., and that I advise him never to take the English newswriters literally,
who never yet inserted any one thing quite right. I have both his patent
and his mandamus, in both which he is Walter, let the newspapers call him
what they please.</p>
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