of profound and original thought, showed, that though it was in
advance of the age, it was but a little in advance; and that it had
struck a key which was ready to vibrate in the national mind. Like all
distinguished works, if it was much read and admired by some, it was
as keenly criticized and cut to pieces by others. Madame de Deffand
said it was not the _Esprit des Loix_ he had written, but _Esprit sur
les Loix_. This expression made a great noise; it had a certain degree
of truth, just enough, when coupled with epigrammatic brevity, to
make the fortune of the sayer. Encouraged by its success, the enemies
of original genius, ever ready to assail it, united their forces, and
Montesquieu was soon the object of repeated and envenomed attacks. It
was said, that to establish certain favourite theories, he availed
himself of the testimony of travellers obscure and of doubtful credit;
that he leapt too rapidly from particulars to general conclusions;
that he ascribed to the influence of climate and physical laws what
was in fact the result of moral or political causes; that he had split
the same subject into small chapters, so confusedly arranged that
there was no order or system in the work; that it was still
incomplete, and wanted the master-hand which was to put it together;
and that it resembled the detached pieces of a mosaic pavement, each
of which is fair or brilliant in itself, but which have no meaning or
expression till disposed by the taste and skill of the artist. There
was some truth in all these criticisms; it is rare that it is
otherwise with the reproaches made against a work of original thought.
Envy generally discovers a blot to hit. Malignity is seldom at a loss
for some blemish to point out. It is by exaggerating slight defects,
and preserving silence on great merits, that literary jealousy ever
tries to work out its wretched spite. The wisdom of an author is not
to resent or overlook, but in silence to profit by such sallies;
converting thus the industry and envy of his enemies into a source of
advantage to himself.

Montesquieu, in pursuance of these principles, passed over in silence
the malignant attacks of a herd of critics, whose works are now buried
in the charnel-house of time, but who strove with all the fury of envy
and disappointment to extinguish his rising fame. When pressed by some
of his friends to answer some of these attacks, he replied--"It is
unnecessary; I am sufficiently avenged on