A brother of his father, perpetual president of the Parliament of Bordeaux, an able judge and virtuous citizen, the oracle of his own society and of his province, having lost an only son, left his fortune and his office to M. de Montesquieu.

Some years after, in 1722, during the king’s minority, his society employed him to present remonstrances upon occasion of a new impost.  Placed between the throne and the people, like a respectful subject and courageous magistrate he brought the cry of the wretched to the ears of the sovereign—­a cry which, being heard, obtained justice.  Unfortunately, this success was momentary.  Scarce was the popular voice silenced before the suppressed tax was replaced by another; but the good citizen had done his duty.

He was received the 3d of April, 1716, into the new academy of Bordeaux.  A taste for music and entertainment had at first assembled its members.  M. de Montesquieu believed that the talents of his friends might be better employed in physical subjects.  He was persuaded that nature, worthy of being beheld everywhere, could find everywhere eyes worthy to behold her; while it was impossible to gather together, at a distance from the metropolis, distinguished writers on works of taste.  He looked upon our provincial societies for belles-lettres as a shadow of literature which obscures the reality.  The Duke de la Force, by a prize which he founded at Bordeaux, seconded these rational views.  It was decided that a good physical experiment would be better than a weak discourse or a bad poem; and Bordeaux got an Academy of Sciences.

M. de Montesquieu, careless of reputation, wrote little.  It was not till 1721, that is to say, at thirty-two years of age, that he published the ‘Persian Letters.’  The description of Oriental manners, real or supposed, is the least important thing in these letters.  It serves merely as a pretense for a delicate satire upon our own customs and for the concealment of a serious intention.  In this moving picture, Usbec chiefly exposes, with as much ease as energy, whatever among us most struck his penetrating eyes:  our way of treating the silliest things seriously, and of laughing at the most important; our way of talking which is at once so blustering and so frivolous; our impatience even in the midst of pleasure itself; our prejudices and our actions that perpetually contradict our understandings; our great love of glory and respect for the idol of court favor, our little real pride; our courtiers so mean and vain; our exterior politeness to, and our real contempt of strangers; our fantastical tastes, than which there is nothing lower but the eagerness of all Europe to adopt them; our barbarous disdain for the two most respectable occupations of a citizen—­commerce and magistracy; our literary disputes, so keen and so useless; our rage for writing before we think, and for judging before we understand.  To this picture he opposes, in the apologue of the Troglodytes,