as such worthy of respect. It is impossible to
imagine an excess more opposite to that of his contemporaries in France,
for whom it was enough that a thing was old for it to be bad. But enough
of Blackstone; he must make way for what I really want to say to you.

In comparing the feudal institutions in England in the period immediately
after the conquest with those of France, you find between them, not only
an analogy, but a perfect resemblance, much greater than Blackstone seems
to think, or, at any rate, chooses to say. In reality, the system in the
two countries is identical. In France, and over the whole Continent, this
system produced a caste; in England, an aristocracy. How is it that the
word _gentleman_, which in our language denotes a mere superiority of
blood, with you is now used to express a certain social position, and
amount of education, independent of birth; so that in two countries the
same word, though the sound remains the same, has entirely changed its
meaning? When did this revolution take place? How, and through what
transitions? Have no books ever treated of this subject in England? Have
none of your great writers, philosophers, politicians, or historians,
ever noticed this characteristic and pregnant fact, tried to account for
it, and to explain it?

If I had the honour of a personal acquaintance with Mr. Macaulay, I
should venture to write to ask him these questions. In the excellent
history which he is now publishing he alludes to this fact, but he does
not try to explain it. And yet, as I have said before, there is none more
pregnant, nor containing within it so good an explanation of the
difference between the history of England and that of the other feudal
nations in Europe. If you should meet Mr. Macaulay, I beg you to ask him,
with much respect, to solve these questions for me. But tell me what you
yourself think, and if any other eminent writers have treated this
subject.

You must think me, my dear friend, very tiresome with all these questions
and dissertations; but of what else can I speak? I pass here the life of
a Benedictine monk, seeing absolutely no one, and writing whenever I am
not walking. I expect this cloistered life to do a great deal of good
both to my mind and body. Do not think that in my convent I forget my
friends. My wife and I constantly talk of them, and especially of you and
of our dear Mrs. Grote. I am reading your MSS.,[1] which interest and
amuse me extremely.