ions, one thinks that one hears Apollo's lyre,
strung by the hands of the Graces, and tuned by the Muses. The idea of a
perfect king, which you have exhibited in your "Telemachus," far excels,
in my own judgment, my imaginary "Republic." Your "Dialogues" breathe
the pure spirit of virtue, of unaffected good sense, of just criticism,
of fine taste. They are in general as superior to your countryman
Fontenelle's as reason is to false wit, or truth to affectation. The
greatest fault of them, I think, is, that some are too short.

_Fenelon_.--It has been objected to them--and I am sensible of it
myself--that most of them are too full of commonplace morals. But I
wrote them for the instruction of a young prince, and one cannot too
forcibly imprint on the minds of those who are born to empire the most
simple truths; because, as they grow up, the flattery of a court will try
to disguise and conceal from them those truths, and to eradicate from
their hearts the love of their duty, if it has not taken there a very
deep root.

_Plato_.--It is, indeed, the peculiar misfortune of princes, that they
are often instructed with great care in the refinements of policy, and
not taught the first principles of moral obligations, or taught so
superficially that the virtuous man is soon lost in the corrupt
politician. But the lessons of virtue you gave your royal pupil are so
graced by the charms of your eloquence that the oldest and wisest men may
attend to them with pleasure. All your writings are embellished with a
sublime and agreeable imagination, which gives elegance to simplicity,
and dignity to the most vulgar and obvious truths. I have heard, indeed,
that your countrymen are less sensible of the beauty of your genius and
style than any of their neighbours. What has so much depraved their
taste?

_Fenelon_.--That which depraved the taste of the Romans after the ago of
Augustus--an immoderate love of wit, of paradox, of refinement. The
works of their writers, like the faces of their women, must be painted
and adorned with artificial embellishments to attract their regards. And
thus the natural beauty of both is lost. But it is no wonder if few of
them esteem my "Telemachus," as the maxims I have principally inculcated
there are thought by many inconsistent with the grandeur of their
monarchy, and with the splendour of a refined and opulent nation. They
seem generally to be falling into opinions that the chief end of soc