medieval fetters which it had worn even in the days
of Bossuet, and considered the development of events
from a purely secular point of view, as the result
of natural causes. But his greatest work, over
which he spent the greater part of his life, and on
which his reputation must finally rest, was
L’Esprit
des Lois (published in 1748). The discussion
of this celebrated book falls outside the domain of
literature, and belongs rather to the history of political
thought. It is enough to say that here all Montesquieu’s
qualities—his power of generalization,
his freedom from prejudice, his rationalism, his love
of liberty and hatred of fanaticism, his pointed,
epigrammatic style—appear in their most
characteristic form. Perhaps the chief fault
of the book is that it is too brilliant. When
Madame du Deffand said that its title should have
been
De l’Esprit sur les Lois she put
her finger on its weak spot. Montesquieu’s
generalizations are always bold, always original,
always fine; unfortunately, they are too often unsound
into the bargain. The fluid elusive facts slip
through his neat sentences like water in a sieve.
His treatment of the English constitution affords
an illustration of this. One of the first foreigners
to recognize the importance and to study the nature
of English institutions, Montesquieu nevertheless
failed to give an accurate account of them. He
believed that he had found in them a signal instance
of his favourite theory of the beneficial effects produced
by the separation of the three powers of government—the
judicial, the legislative, and the executive; but
he was wrong. In England, as a matter of fact,
the powers of the legislative and the executive were
intertwined. This particular error has had a curious
history. Montesquieu’s great reputation
led to his view of the constitution of England being
widely accepted as the true one; as such it was adopted
by the American leaders after the War of Independence;
and its influence is plainly visible in the present
constitution of the United States. Such is the
strange power of good writing over the affairs of men!
At about the same time as the publication of the Lettres
Persanes, there appeared upon the scene in Paris
a young man whose reputation was eventually destined
far to outshine that of Montesquieu himself. This
young man was Francois Arouet, known to the world as
VOLTAIRE. Curiously enough, however, the work
upon which Voltaire’s reputation was originally
built up has now sunk into almost complete oblivion.
It was as a poet, and particularly as a tragic poet,
that he won his fame; and it was primarily as a poet
that he continued to be known to his contemporaries
during the first sixty years of his life (1694-1754).
But to-day his poetry—the serious part of
it, at least,—is never read, and his tragedies—except
for an occasional revival—are never acted.
As a dramatist Voltaire is negligible for the very
reasons that made him so successful in his own day.