PRELIMINARY REFLECTIONS ON THE PERSIAN LETTERS, By M. DE
MONTESQUIEU.
Prefixed to the
Quarto Edition.
THERE is nothing
in the Persian Letters that has
given readers so general a satisfaction, as to find in
them a sort of romance, without having expected it. It
is easy to discern in them the beginning, the progress,
and the conclusion of it: the several different persons
introduced, are connected together by a sort of a chain.
The longer they reside in Europe, the less marvellous
and extraordinary the manners of that part of the world
begin to appear to them; and they are more or less
struck with the marvellous and extraordinary, according
to their different characters. Add to this, that the
Asiatic seraglio grows disorderly in proportion to the
time of Usbek’s absence; that is to say, according as
phrenzy increases in it, and love abates. There is
another reason why these romances, generally speaking,
succeed, and that is, because the persons introduced
give themselves an account of what happens to them,
which causes the passions to be felt more sensibly than
any narrative made by another could do. This is likewise
one of the causes of the success of some admirable works
which have appeared since the Persian
Letters. To conclude, in common romances
digressions can never be admitted, except when they
themselves constitute another romance. Reasoning cannot
be intermixed with the story, because the personages not
being brought together to reason, that would be
repugnant to the design and nature of the work. But in
the form of letters, wherein personages are introduced
at random, and the subjects treated of do not depend
upon any design, or plan, already formed, the author has
the advantage of being able to blend philosophy,
politics and morality with romance, and to connect the
whole by a secret, and, as it were, undiscoverable
chain. So great a call was there for the
Persian Letters, upon their
first publication, that the booksellers exerted their
utmost efforts to procure continuations of them. They
pulled every author they met by the sleeve, and said,
‘Sir, I must beg the favour of you to write me a
collection of Persian Letters.’
But what has been said, is sufficient to convince the
reader, that they do not admit of a continuation, and
still less of a mixture with letters wrote by another
hand, how ingenious soever. There are in them some
strokes, which many have looked upon as too bold. But
these are requested to take the nature of the work into
consideration. The Persians, who were to play so
considerable a part in it, were all on a sudden
transplanted to Europe, that is, removed to another
world, as it were. At a certain time, therefore, it was
necessary to represent them as full of ignorance and
prejudices. The author’s chief design was to display the
formation and progress of their ideas. Their first
thoughts could not but have a dash of singularity in
them: it was apprehended that there is nothing to be
done but to give them that sort of singularity which is
not incompatible with understanding. It was only to
represent their situation of mind at seeing any thing
that appeared extraordinary to them. The author, far
from having a design to strike at any principle of our
religion, thought himself even free from the imputation
of indiscretion. These strokes appear always connected
with a manifestation of surprize, or astonishment, and
not with the idea of inquiry, much less with that of
criticism. In speaking of our religion, these Persians
should not appear better informed than when they talk of
our manners and customs. And if they sometimes seem to
look upon the tenets of our religion as singular, the
singularity they discover in them fully shews their
ignorance of their connection with the other truths
thereof. The author justifies himself in this manner, as
well on account of his attachment to these important
truths, as through respect for the human species, which
he certainly could not have had an intention to wound in
the tenderest part. The reader is therefore requested
not to cease one moment to consider these strokes as the
effects of surprize in persons who ought to be
surprized, or as the paradoxes of men who spoke of what
they did not understand. He is likewise requested to
consider that the whole beauty of the invention
consisted in the constant contrast between the real
state of things and the singular, or whimsical manner in
which they were contemplated. Certain it is, that the
nature and design of the Persian
Letters are so apparent and obvious, that none
can mistake them, but such as have a mind to impose upon
themselves.
INTRODUCTION TO THE
FIRST FRENCH EDITION.
I SHALL neither
write a dedicatory epistle, nor solicit protection for
this work; if it is good, it will be read, if bad, I am
not anxious that it should be read by any. I have
adventured the first of these letters to try the public
taste; I have a great number more, which I may hereafter
give. But this depends upon my not being known, for from
the moment that happens, I am silent. I know a lady who
walks very well, but limps if observed. There are faults
enough in the work for the critics, without subjecting
myself to them. If I was known, it would be said, his
book is his true character; he might have engaged
himself to a better purpose; it is unworthy of a grave
man. The critics are never deficient in these kinds of
reflections, because little wit is necessary to make
them.
The Persians,
who wrote these letters, lodged with me, and we passed
our time together; as they regarded me as one of another
world, they hid nothing from me. In fact, persons
removed to such a considerable distance, could have no
secrets. They communicated to me the most of their
letters, which I copied; others I took which they were
desirous not to entrust me with, as they exposed the
jealousy and vanity of the Persian. I am no more than a
translator: my whole care has been to suit this work to
our manners. I have relieved the reader, as much as I
could, from the Asiatic stile, and have exonerated him
from the trouble of an infinite number of sublime and
elevated expressions. But this is not all the service I
have rendered him; I have retrenched those long
compliments, of which the orientals are not less profuse
than ourselves, and have passed over a great many
particulars too trifling to be made public, and which
ought only to live from friend to friend. If this had
been observed by most of those who have published
epistolary collections, many of their works would have
disappeared. There is one circumstance which has often
excited my admiration; that these Persians were
frequently as well instructed as myself in the manners
and customs of our nation, even to a knowledge of the
most minute particulars, taking notice of some things
which I am sure have escaped many of the Germans who
have visited France. This I attribute to the long stay
they made here, without considering that it is less
difficult to an Asiatic to inform himself of the manners
of the French in one year, than it would be to a
Frenchman to acquire a knowledge of those of Asia in
four years; because the one are as open as the other are
reserved. Translators have been indulged by custom, even
the most barbarous commentators, to decorate the head of
their version, or glossary, with a panegyric on the
original, and to expatiate on the usefulness, merit, and
excellency of it; but this I have not done. The reasons
are obvious; one of the best is, that it would be
tedious, in a part of a work already too much so; I
would say in a preface.

LETTER I.
Usbėk to his Friend
Rustan at
Ispahan.
AT Com we
remained only one day, when, having paid our devotions
at the tomb of the virgin who brought forth twelve
prophets, we renewed our journey, and yesterday, the
twenty-fifth since we left Ispahan, came to Tauris.
Probably Rica and I are the first among the Persians,
whose thirst after knowledge made them leave their own
country, and renounce the pleasures of a life of ease,
for the laborious search of wisdom. Though born in a
flourishing kingdom, we did not think that its
boundaries were those of knowledge, and that the
oriental light could only enlighten us. Inform me what
is said of our journey, without flattery; I do not
expect that it will be generally approved. Address your
letter to me at Erzeron, where I shall rest some time.
Farewel, my dear Rustan; be assured that in whatever
part of the world I may be, thou hast there a faithful
friend.
Tauris, the 15th of
the moon Saphar, 1711.
LETTER II.
Usbek to the First Black
Eunuch, at his Seraglio in Ispahan.
THOU art the
trusty keeper of the finest women in Persia: I have
consided in thee what I have in the world most dear:
thou holdest in thy hands the keys of the fatal doors,
which are never unlocked but for me. Whilst thou
watchest over this precious deposit of my heart, it
reposes itself, and enjoys a perfect security. Thou
keepest watch in the silence of the night as well as in
the hurry of the day. Thy unwearied cares sustain thy
virtue when it wavers. If the women whom thou guardest,
would swerve from their duty, thou destroyest the very
hope of it. Thou art the scourge of vice and the pillar
of faithfulness. Thou commandest them, and thou obeyest
them; thou implicitly fulfillest all their desires, and
thou makest them conform to the laws of the seraglio
with the same obedience: thou takest a pride in
rendering them the meanest services; thou submittest to
their just commands with an awful respect; thou servest
them as if thou wert the slave of their slaves. But
again thou resumest thy power, commandest like a master
as myself, when thou fearest the relaxation of the laws
of chastity and modesty. Ever remember the obscurity
from which I took thee when thou wast the meanest of my
slaves, to put thee in that place, and intrusted to thee
the delights of my heart; observe then the deepest
humility towards those who share my love; yet, at the
same time, make them sensible of their very dependant
state. Procure them every innocent pleasure; beguile
their uneasiness, entertain them with music, dancing,
and the most delicious liquors; induce them to meet
together frequently. If they have a mind to go into the
country, you may carry them thither; but destroy any man
who attempts to come into their sight. Exhort them to
observe that cleanliness, which is an emblem of the
soul’s purity; talk to them sometimes of me. I wish to
see them again in that charming place which they adorn.
Farewel.
Tauris, the 18th of
the moon Saphar, 1711.
LETTER III.
Zachi to
Usbek, at
Tauris.
WE commanded the
chief of the Eunuchs to remove us into the country; he
will inform you that no accident happened. When we were
to leave our litters to pass the river, two slaves, as
usual, bore us on their shoulders, and we were so hidden
as not to be at all observed. How can I be able to live
in thy seraglio at Ispahan? which incessantly reminds me
of my past happiness; which every day renews my desires
with fresh violence? I range from apartment to
apartment, ever in search of thee, and never find thee,
but through the whole, meet with an afflictive
remembrance of my past happiness. I sometimes behold
myself in the place where I the first time received thee
to my arms; again I view thee on the spot where thou
dist decide that famous quarrel amongst thy wives; each
of us pretending to the superiority of beauty; we
presented ourselves before thee, after having exerted
our imaginations to the utmost, to provide ourselves
with every advantageous ornament; thou contemplatedst
with pleasure, the prodigies of our art; you admired to
what a height we had carried our desires to please thee.
But thou soon madest those borrowed charms give place to
whose of nature; thou destroyedst all our labours, we
were obliged to despoil ourselves of all those
ornaments, which were become incommodious to thee; we
were obliged to appear to thy view in the simplicity of
nature. I thought nothing of modesty, glory was my only
thought. Happy Usbek! What charms were then exposed to
thy eyes! We beheld thee a long time, roving from
enchantment to enchantment; long thy wavering soul
remained unfixed; each new grace demanded a tribute from
thee; we were in a manner covered all over with thy
kisses; thou carriedst thy curious looks to the most
secret places; thou madest us change, in a moment, to a
thousand various attitudes; thy commands were always
new, and so was our obedience. I confess to thee, Usbek,
a more lively passion than ambition made me hope to
please thee. I saw myself insensibly become the mistress
of thy heart; thou tookest me; thou quittedst me, thou
tookedst me again; and I knew how to retain thee; the
triumph was all my own, and despair my rivals; it
seemed, to us, as if we only were in the world, and all
around us unworthy of our attention. Would to heaven
that my rivals had had the courage to have remained to
have been witnesses of all those proofs of love that I
received from thee! Had they well observed my
transports, they would have been sensible of the
desparity between their love and mine: they would have
found that though they might dispute with me for charms,
they could not in sensibility. But where am I? Where
does this vain recital lead me? Not to have been beloved
is a misfortune; but to be so no more, an affront. Thou
abandonest us, Usbek, to wander through barbarous climes
But why dost thou esteem the advantage of being beloved
as nothing? Alas! thou dost not know thyself what thou
losest. I utter sighs which are never heard; my tears
flow and thou dost not enjoy them; it seems that love
breathes in this seraglio, and thy insensibility hath
removed thee from it. Ah! my dear Usbek, if thou knewest
how to be happy!
From the seraglio
at Fatme, the 21st of the moon Maharram, 1711.
LETTER IV.
Zephis to
Usbek at
Erzeron.
AT length the
black monster has determined to make me despair. He
would, forcibly, deprive me of Zelida, my slave, who
served me with so much affection, and who is so handy at
every graceful ornament. He was not satisfied that this
separation should be grievous, he would have it also
dishonourable. The traitor would treat as criminal the
motives of my confidence; and because he was weary of
waiting behind the door, where I always placed him, he
dared to imagine that he heard or saw things which I
cannot even conceive. I am very unhappy! Neither my
retreat nor my virtue can secure me from unreasonable
suspicions: a vile slave assaults me even in thy heart,
and it is there I must justify myself. No; I have too
much regard to myself to descend to a justification: I
will have no other guardian of my conduct but thyself;
thy love and mine, and if I must tell thee so, dear
Usbek, my tears.
From the seraglio
at Fatme, the 29th of the moon Maharram, 1711.
LETTER V.
Rustan to
Usbek, at
Erzeron.
THE whole
conversation of Ispahan turns upon thee, thy departure
is the only thing about which people talk. Some ascribe
it to levity of mind, others to some disgust; thy
friends only justify thee, but they persuade no one.
They cannot conceive that thou canst forsake thy wives,
thy relations, thy friends, and thy country, to explore
climes unknown to the Persians. The mother of Rica is
not to be comforted; she demands her son of thee, whom
she saith thou hast carried away. As to me, dear Usbek,
I am naturally led to approve of all thy proceedings,
yet I know not how to pardon thy absence, and whatever
reasons thou mayest offer to me, my heart will never
relish them. Farewel, Love me always.
Ispahan, the 28th
of the moon Rebiab, 1711.
LETTER VI.
Usbek to his Friend
Nessir, at
Ispahan.
AT the distance
of one day’s journey from Erivan we quitted Persia, and
entered those territories subject to the Turks. Twelve
days after we reached Erzeron, where we continued three
or four months. I must confess to thee, Nessir, I
suffered a secret concern when I lost sight of Persia,
and found myself surrounded by faithless Osmanlins; and,
as I advance into the country of the profane, I think I
become such myself: my country, my family, my friends,
present themselves to my mind, my tenderness is revived;
a certain uneasiness hath completed my sorrow, and makes
me sensible that I have ventured too much for my quiet.
But my wives are my chief affliction; I cannot think of
them but I am swallowed up in grief. It is not, Nessir,
that I love them; with respect to that, I am in a state
of insensibility, which leaves me no desires. The number
of women I saw in the seraglio hath prevented love, and
I have defeated him by himself, but this coldness itself
is a kind of secret jealousy that devours me. I behold a
number of women trusted almost to themselves; for I have
none but some base spirited wretches to answer for their
conduct. I should scarcely think myself secure though my
slaves were faithful; how would it be then if they
should not be so? What distressing accounts may I
receive in the distant countries through which I am to
pass! It is a malady for which my friends can afford no
remedy; the causes of my disorder arise from a place,
the melancholy secrets of which they ought to be
ignorant of; and, if they could discern them, what could
they do? Had not I a thousand times better let them die
with silence and impunity, than make them public by
correction? In thy heart, my dear Nessir, I confide all
my griefs, which is the only consolation that remains to
me in my present state.
Erzeron, the 10th
of the moon of the second Rebiab, 1711.
LETTER VII.
Fatme to
Usbek, at
Erzeron.
THOU hast
been gone two months, my dear Usbek, and, in the trouble
that I am in, I cannot yet persuade myself that it is
so. I run all over the seraglio, as if thou wert there,
nor is my fancy disabused. What wouldest thou have
become of a woman who loves thee; who hath been
accustomed to hold thee in these arms; whose only
concern was to give thee fresh proofs of her affection;
free by the advantage of her birth, but by the violence
of her love a slave? When I married thee, my eyes had
never seen the face of man, thou yet art the only one
they have ever been permitted to see
; for I do not place in the order of men these hideous
eunuchs, whose least imperfection is to have nothing of
man. When I compare the beauty of thy countenance with
their deformity, I cannot forbear esteeming myself
happy. My imagination cannot supply me with a more
ravishing idea than the inchanting charms of thy person.
I swear to thee, Usbek, that if I should be permitted to
quit this place, where I am shut up from the necessity
of my condition; could I escape from the guard that
surrounds me; if I were allowed to chuse from among all
men who live in this capital of nations, Usbek, I swear
to thee, I should chuse none but thee. Think not that
thy absence has made me neglect a beauty dear to thee.
Though I must not be seen by any person, and though the
ornaments with which I deck myself do not contribute to
thy happiness, yet I endeavour to amuse myself by a
habit of pleasing; I never go to rest till I am perfumed
with the most agreeable essences. I recal to my mind the
happy time when you came to my arms: a flattering dream
deceives me, shews me the dear object of my love; my
imagination loses itself in its desires, as it flatters
itself in its hopes. I sometimes think that, disgusted
at a toilsome journey, thou wilt return to us; the night
wears away in these kind of dreams, which are not
verified either waking or asleep; I seek for thee at my
side, and it seems to me that thou fliest from me; at
length the fire itself which burns me, disperses these
delusions, and recals my spirits; I then find myself
reanimated—Thou wilt not believe it, Usbek, it is
impossible to live in this condition; the fire burns in
my veins. Why cannot I express to thee what I so
sensibly feel? and how can I so sensibly feel what I
cannot express? In these moments, Usbek, I would give
the empire of the world for one of thy kisses. How
unhappy is the woman who has such strong desires, when
she is deprived of him who only can satisfy them, who,
left to herself, has nothing that can divert her; she
must live in a course of sighs, and in the fury of an
irritated passion; who, far from being happy, has not
the privilege of promoting the felicity of another, an
useless ornament of a seraglio, kept for the honour, and
not the happiness of her husband. You men are very
cruel! you are delighted that we have passions which we
cannot gratify, yet you treat us as if we were
insensible and would be sorry if we were so; you think,
that our desires, though a long time mortified, will be
quickened at the sight of you. It is very difficult to
make one’s self be beloved; it is the best way to obtain
by doubting of our understanding, what you dare not
expect from your own merit. Farewel, my dear Usbek,
farewel: be assured that I live only to adore thee; my
soul is full of thee, and thy absence, far from making
me forget thee, would quicken my love, if it were
capable of becoming more vehement.
From the seraglio
at Ispahan, the 12th of the moon of the 1st Rebiab,
1711.
LETTER VIII.
Usbek to his Friend
Rustan, at
Ispahan.
THY letter was
delivered to me at Erzeron, where I now am: I thought
indeed my departure would make a noise, but it gives me
no trouble. What wouldest thou have me follow? what my
enemies think prudent, or what I myself think to be so?
I appeared at court when I was very young. I may say, my
heart was not at all corrupted there; I formed to myself
a vast design; I dared to be virtuous there. When I knew
vice, I kept at a distance from it; but I afterwards
approached it to pluck off its mask. I carried truth to
the foot of the throne, I spoke a language till then
unknown; I disconcerted flattery, and astonished at the
same time the worshippers and the idol. But when I saw
my sincerity had created me enemies; that I had
attracted the jealousy of the ministers, without
obtaining the favour of the prince; I resolved to
retire, since my feeble virtue could no longer support
me in a corrupt court. I feigned to be strongly attached
to the sciences, and, in consequence of that pretence,
became really so. I no longer engaged myself in any
affairs, but retired to a house in the country; but even
this retreat had its inconveniences; I was continually
exposed to the malice of my enemies, and was almost
deprived of the means of safety. Some secret advice
disposed me to think more seriously of myself; I
resolved to banish myself from my country, and my
retreat from court provided me with a plausible
pretence. I waited on the king, and acquainted him with
my desire to inform myself of the sciences in the west;
I insinuated to him that he might be benefited by my
travels; I found favour with him; I departed, and stole
a victim from my enemies: see, Rustan, the true motive
of my travelling. Let Ispahan talk, defend me only to
those who love me; leave with my enemies their malicious
interpretations; I should be happy if that were the only
hurt that they could do to me; they talk of me at
present, probably I shall be too much forgotten
hereafter, and my friends—No, Rustan, I will not resign
myself to these melancholy suspicions, I shall always be
dear to them, I reckon upon their fidelity, as on thine.
Erzeron, the 20th
of the moon of the 2d Gemmadi, 1711.
LETTER IX.
The Chief Eunuch to
Ibbi, at
Erzeron.
THOU attendest
thy ancient master in his travels; thou passest through
provinces and kingdoms, no chagrin affects thee, each
moment presents thee with fresh objects, every thing
thou seest amuses thee, and makes thee pass away thy
time imperceptibly. It is otherwise with me, who am shut
up in a horrible confinement, surrounded continually by
the same objects, and perplexed with the same cares. I
groan beneath the burden of fifty years of cares and
pains; and through the period of a long life, I cannot
say I have seen a day’s case or a moment’s quiet. When
my first master formed the cruel design of confining me
to the care of his wives, and induced me by promises,
inforced by a thousand threats, to part with myself for
ever, tired of being employed in a most toilsome
service, I reckoned upon sacrificing my passions to ease
and plenty. Unhappy that I was! my mind was prepossessed
with the evils I should escape, but not with the loss I
should sustain: I expected that an incapacity to gratify
the attacks of love would secure me from it. Alas! the
gratification of the passions is extinguished, but the
foundation of them remained, and far from being freed
from them, I found myself encompassed by objects which
continually excited them. I entered the seraglio, where
every thing filled me with regret for what I had lost; I
felt myself provoked to love each instant, a thousand
natural beauties seemed to shew themselves to my view
only to torment me; and to complete my misfortune, I had
always before me the happy master of these beauties.
During this unhappy time, I never led a woman to my
master’s bed, I never undress’d one but I returned back
enraged in my heart at myself, and my soul filled with a
horrible despair. See how miserably I passed my youth, I
had no confident but myself, loaded with grief and care
I must needs be destroyed; and those women, whom I was
tempted to regard with the most tender looks, I could
only behold with the most stern attention. I was ruined
had they penetrated my thoughts; what advantages would
they not have taken? I remember once as I put a lady
into a bath, I felt myself so ravished that I entirely
lost my reason, and ventured to clap my hand upon a most
formidable part. On the first reflection I thought that
day would be my last, I was so happy however, to escape
the thousand deaths I feared; but the beauty whom I had
made witness of my weakness, made me buy her silence
very dear. I lost entirely my power over her, and she
forced me, from that time, to compliances which, a
thousand times exposed me to hazard the loss of my life.
At length the fire of youth is extinguished; I am old,
and I find myself, with respect to these things, in an
easy condition; I regard women with indifference, and I
reward them well for their contempt and all the torments
which they made me feel. I always remember that I was
born to govern them; and it seems to me as if I
recovered my manhood, on every occasion that I have yet
to command them. Since I can behold them with coldness,
and my reason permits me to see all their foibles, I
hate them: though it is for another I watch them, the
pleasure of being obeyed affords me a secret joy, and it
is as if I did it for myself, and it always gives me an
indirect happiness, when I can deprive them of their
pleasures. I am in the seraglio as in a little empire;
and my ambition, my only remaining passion, receives
some satisfaction; I see with pleasure that all depends
upon me, and that I am necessary on every occasion; I
charge myself willingly with the hatred of all these
women, which establishes me the more firmly in my post.
So they do not find me in any affair an ungrateful man,
I always prevent them in their most innocent pleasures;
I ever present myself to them as a fixed barrier, they
form schemes, and I suddenly frustrate them. I am armed
with refusals, full of scruples, I never open my mouth
but with lectures of duty, virtue, chastity, and
modesty. By continually talking to them of the weakness
of their sex, and of the authority of my master, I drive
them to despair; afterwards I complain of the necessity
I am under to be thus severe, and seem as if I would
have them suppose their proper interest, and a strong
attachment to them, to be my only motives. Not but that,
in my turn, I suffer a number of disagreeable things
from these vindictive women, who daily endeavour to
repay me the evils I heap on them; there is between us a
kind of interchange of empire and obedience; they are
always imposing upon me the most humiliating offices;
they affect an exemplary contempt, and regardless of my
age, make me rise ten times in a night, on the most
trifling occasion. I am continually tired with orders,
commands, employments and caprices; it looks as if they
alternately relieved each other to weary me with a
succession of whimsies. They take a pleasure, sometimes,
in making me redouble my attention, they pretend to make
me their consident; at one time they run to tell me,
that a young man is seen about the walls; another time
that a noise is heard, or a letter delivered, and
delight themselves with laughing at the trouble and
torment these things give me. Sometimes they fix me
behind a door, and make me continue there night and day;
they well know how to feign sickness, swoonings, or
frights, and never want a pretence to gain their will of
me. On these occasions I am forced to yield an implicit
obedience, and boundless complaisance, for a refusal
from such a man as I, would be an unheard of thing, and
if I were to hesitate about obeying them, they would
take a right to correct me. I would much rather, my dear
Ibbi, lose life than to submit to such a mortifying
state: but this is not the whole, my master’s favour is
not sure to me for a moment; I have too many enemies in
his heart, who are all watching to ruin me, they enjoy
certain seasons when I cannot be heard, seasons in which
he can refuse them nothing, times in which I am ever in
the wrong. I conduct women enraged to my master’s bed,
can you imagine they will serve me? or that my interest
will be the strongest? From their tears, their sighs,
their embraces, and from their very pleasures, I have
every thing to fear. It is then they triumph, and that
their charms become terrible to me; their present
services, in an instant efface all my past ones, and to
a master no longer himself, by me nothing can be
answered. How frequently has it happened to me to sleep
in favour, and a wake to disgrace! The day I was so
disgracefully whipt round the seraglio, what had I done?
I had left in my master’s arms a woman, who, when she
saw he was inflamed, burst into a flood of tears; she
lamented, and so successfully managed her complaints,
that they arose with the love she excited in him; in so
critical a moment, how was I able to support myself? I
was ruined when I least expected, I was the victim of an
amorous intrigue, and a treaty made by fighs. See, dear
Ibbi, the wretched state in which I have ever lived; how
happy art thou! thy cares are confined to the person of
Usbek only. It is easy to please him, and to support
thyself in his favour to thy latest day.
From the seraglio
at Ispahan, the last of the moon Saphar, 1711.
LETTER X.
Mirza to his Friend
Usbek, at
Erzeron.
IT is thou only
who couldest recompense to me the absence of Rica, and
there is no person but Rica who could console me for
thine. We want thee, Usbek, thou wast the soul of our
society; how difficult is it to dissolve the engagements
which friendship and reason have formed! We have here
many disputations; which turn commonly on morality. The
question yesterday was, Whether the happiness of mankind
consists in pleasure and sensual gratifications, or in
the exercise of virtue? I have frequently heard you
maintain, that virtue is the end for which we were born,
and that justice is a quality as necessary to us as
existence; explain to me, pray, what you mean by this. I
have conversed with the Moilocks, who distract me with
their quotations from the Koran; for I speak no
otherwise to them than as a man, a citizen, and a father
of a family, and not as a believer. Farewel.
Ispahan, the last
day of the moon Saphar, 1711.
LETTER XI.
Usbek to
Mirza, at
Ispahan.
THOU renouncest
thy own reason to try mine: thou condescendest even to
consult me; thou think est me capable of instructing
thee. My dear Mirza, there is one thing which flatters
me more than the good opinion thou hast conceived of me;
it is what has procured it me, thy friendship. I do not
think that there is need to use very abstracted reasons,
to sulfil the task which thou hast prescribed to me.
There are some certain truths, of which it is not
sufficient to be persuaded, but men must be made even to
feel them; moral truths are of this kind. Probably this
historical piece may affect thee more than a
philosophical subtlety. In Arabia there were a few
people, named Troglodites, descendants of the ancient
Troglodites, who, if we can believe our historians,
resembled beasts rather than men. They were not so
deformed; they were not hairy like bears; they did not
hiss; they had two eyes: yet they were so wicked and
brutish, that they were strangers to the principles of
justice and equity. A foreign king, who reigned over
them, willing to correct their natural wickedness,
treated them with severity; but they conspired against
him, murdered him, and exterminated all the royal
family. Having struck this blow, they met to chuse a
government, and after much dissention, appointed
magistrates, but they were scarcely elected when they
became intolerable, and were massacred. The people,
freed from this new yoke, consulted only their own
savageness. Every one agreed to submit to no person:
that each should follow his own interest, without any
attention to that of others. This general resolution was
extremely pleasing to all.—They reasoned thus: “Why
should I destroy myself in labouring for those who do
not concern me; I will take care for myself only; I
shall live happily; what is it to me how others live? I
shall provide for my own wants; and if they are
satisfied, what care I if all the rest of the
Troglodites are miserable?”—This was seed-time: each man
said, “I will only manure as much land as will supply
corn sufficient for myself; a greater quantity would be
useless to me; I shall not take the trouble to work in
vain.” The lands of this little kingdom were not all
alike; some parts were dry and mountainous; others, in
the low grounds, were well watered by rivulets. This
year there was a great drought, insomuch that the upper
grounds failed greatly, whist those which were watered
proved very fertile; the consequence was, that almost
all the people who lived in the mountains perished by
famine, through the hard-heartedness of those who
refused to share their harvest with them. The following
year was very rainy; the higher grounds proved
extraordinary fruitful, whilst the lower grounds were
drowned. Now the other half of the people complained of
famine; but these miserable people found the
mountaineers as hard-hearted as they themselves had
been. One of the chief inhabitants had a very handsome
wise, of whom his neighbour became in love, and forced
her from him; this occasioned a strong contest, and,
after many blows and outrages, they consented to submit
the decision to a Troglodite, who, whilst the republic
subsisted, had been in some esteem. They came to him,
and were going to plead their cause before him.—“What
does it concern me, said the umpire, whose wife she is,
yours, or yours; I have my land to till; I cannot spend
my time in determining your quarrels, not busy myself in
your affairs to the neglect of my own; pray let me be
quiet, and do not trouble me with your disputes.”—Having
so said, he left them, and went to work on his land. The
ravisher, who was the stronger man, swore he would
sooner die than restore the woman; whilst the husband,
penetrated with the injustice of his neighbour, and the
hardness of his judge, returned home in despair; when
meeting in his way a handsome young woman, returning
from a fountain, and having now no wife of his own;
being pleased with her, and much more so, when he
learned she was the wife of him whom he had chosen for
his judge, and who had been so little sensible of his
affliction; he seized on her, and forced her to go to
his house. There was another man who possessed a
fruitful field, which he had cultivated wich great
labour; two of his neighbours united together, forced
him out of his house, and took possession of his field;
they formed a compact to defend themselves against all
those who should endeavour to take it from them, and did
really support themselves several months. But one of
them, tired of sharing what he might possess alone,
murdered the other, and became sole master of the field;
his reign was not long; two other Troglodites attacked
him; and he was massacred, being too weak to defend
himself. Another Troglodite, who was almost naked, asked
the price of some cloth, which he saw, and wanted to
buy; the draper reasoned thus with himself: “I indeed
ought not to expect more money for my cloth than will
buy two measures of wheat; but I will sell it for four
times that advantage, that I may purchase eight
measures.”—The man must needs have the cloth, and pay
the price demanded; “I am very well contented, said the
draper, I now shall have some wheat.” “What is it you
say, replied the buyer, do you want wheat? I have some
to sell, however the price perhaps may surprise you; for
you know wheat is extremely dear, and that the famine is
extended almost every where; but return me my money and
you shall have a measure of wheat, and though you should
perish by the famine, you should not have it otherwise.”
In the mean time the country was ravaged by a mortal
distemper; a skilful physician arrived from a
neighbouring country, who administered his medicines so
properly, that he cured all who put themselves under his
care. When the distemper ceased, he went to those whom
he had cured, to demand his pay, but refusals were all
he received. He returned to his own country, tired with
the fatigue of so long a journey. But a short time
after, he heard that the same distemper had returned
again, and more grievously afflicted those ungrateful
people. They did not now wait for his coming, but went
to him themselves. “Unjust men, said he, go; you have in
your souls a more deadly poison than that of which you
desire to be cured; you are unworthy to enjoy a place
upon earth, for you are void of humanity, and the laws
of equity are unknown to you. I should think it an
offence against the gods, who punish you, should I
oppose their just anger.”
Erzeron, the 3d of
the moon of the 2d Gemmadi, 1711.
LETTER XII.
Ushek to the Same, at
Ispahan.
THOU hast seen,
my dear Mirza, how the Troglodites were destroyed by
their own wickedness, and fell the victims of their own
injustice. Of so many families, two only remained, who
escaped the miseries of this people. There were in this
country two very extraordinary men; they possessed
humanity, were acquainted with justice, and loved
virtue. They were as much united by the uprightness of
their hearts, as by the corruption of those of others
they saw the general desolation, and only shewed their
sense of it by their pity; this was a new motive to
union. A common solicitude, and a common interest,
engaged their labours; there was no difference between
them but what owed its birth to a sweet and tender
friendship. In a retired part of the country, separate
from their unworthy countrymen, they led a life of peace
and happiness; cultivated by their virtuous hands, the
earth seemed to yield its fruits spontaneously. They
loved their wives, and were affectionately beloved by
them. The training up their children to virtue engaged
their utmost care. They continually represented to them
the miseries of their countrymen, and placed their
melancholy example before their eyes. They especially
inculcated upon their minds, that the interest of
individuals was always to be found in that of the
community, and that to attempt to seek it separately,
was to destroy it; that virtue is by no means a thing
that ought to be burdensome to us, nor the practice of
it considered as painful; that doing justice to others
is acting charitably to ourselves. They soon enjoyed the
consolation of virtuous parents, which consists in
having children like themselves. These young people, who
grew up under their care, were increased by happy
marriages, and their number augmented; the same union
continued, and virtue, far from being weakened by the
multitude, was, on the contrary, strengthened by a
greater number of examples. Who is able to represent the
happiness of the Troglodites at this period! A people so
just could not but be dear to the gods. They learned to
reverence them as soon as they had a knowledge of them,
and religion improved their morals, and softened their
natural roughness. In honour of the gods they instituted
feasts. The young women dressed with flowers, and the
youths danced to the sound of rural music; then followed
banquets, which were not less joyful than frugal. In
these assemblies pure Nature spoke; it was here they
learned to give and receive hearts; it was here that
virgin modesty, blushing, consessed its alarms; but its
wishes were soon established by the consent of fathers;
and here affectionate mothers delighted themselves with
the foresight of a loving and faithful union. They went
to the temple to ask the favour of the gods; it was not
for riches, or a burdensome superfluity; such kind of
wishes were unworthy to be desired by the happy
Troglodites, except only for their fellow-countrymen.
They only bowed before the altars to pray for the health
of their parents, the unity of their brethren, the
affection of their wives, and the love and obedience of
their children. Maidens came thither to offer up the
tender sacrifice of their hearts, and that they might
make a Troglodite happy was the only favour they asked.
When the flocks at evening left the fields, and the
weary oxen returned home with the plough, then these
happy people met together, and, during a frugal repast,
sang the crimes of the first Troglodites, and their
punishment; and the revival of virtue with a new race.
They also sang the power of the gods, their favour, ever
present to those who worship them, and their inevitable
displeasure at those who fear them not: they afterwards
described the pleasures of a rural life, and the
happiness with which innocence is always adorned. They
soon after resigned themselves to a repose never
interrupted by any cares or uneasiness. Nature equally
provided for their cares and their pleasures. In this
happy country, covetousness was unknown: they made
presents to each other, and the donor always supposed he
had the advantage. The Troglodites ever considered
themselves as one family; their flocks were mingled
together, and the only trouble they excused themselves
was that of separating them.
Erzeron, the 16th
of the moon of the second Gemmadi, 1711.
LETTER XIII.
Usbek to the Same.
THE virtue of
the Troglodites is what I cannot speak to thee enough
of. One of them once said: “My father to-morrow should
labour in the field, I will rise two hours before him,
and when he comes into the field he shall find all his
work done.”—Another said to himself: “My sister seems to
like a young Troglodite, a relation of ours, I must
speak to my father, that he may terminate it by a
marriage.”—Another being told, that some robbers had
carried off his herd, “I am very sorry, said he, for
there was a white heiffer, which I intended to have
offered up to the gods.”—Another was once heard saying;
“I must go to the temple to return the gods thanks, that
my brother, who is so greatly beloved by my father, and
who is so dear to me, has recovered his health.”—Or
else: “Adjoining to a field of my father’s there is
another, and those who work in it are continually
exposed to the heat of the sun; I must plant some trees
there, that those poor men may sometimes rest themselves
under the shadow of them.”—One time, several Troglodites
being together, an elderly man reproached a younger,
whom he suspected of having committed a base action: “We
do not think he has done such an action, said the
others, but if he has, may his death happen the last of
his family!—A Troglodite being informed, that some
stranger had pillaged and carried every thing off,
replied, “I could wish the gods would give them a longer
use of them than I have had, were they not unjust
men.”—Such great prosperity was not regarded without
envy. The neighbouring people gathered together, and,
under a frivolous pretence, determined to take away
their flocks. As soon as this resolution was known, the
Troglodites sent ambassadors to them, who addressed them
to this purpose: “What have the Troglodites done to you?
Have they taken away your wives, stolen your cattle, or
ravaged your country? No; we are just, and fear the
gods. What then do you demand of us? Would you have wool
to make you clothes? Would you have the milk of our
flocks, or the fruits of our lands? Lay down your arms,
come among us, and we will give you all these; but we
swear by that which is most sacred, that if you enter
our lands as enemies, we will treat you as wild
beasts.”—This address was treated with contempt, and the
savage people entered armed into the country of the
Troglodites, who, they supposed had no other defence
besides their innocence. But they were well prepared for
a defence; they had placed their wives and children in
the midst of them, and were surprised at the injustice,
but not dismayed at the numbers of their enemies. Their
hearts were seized with a fresh ardour; one would lose
his life for his father, another for his wife and
children; this for his brethren, and that for his
friends, and all of them for their country. The place of
him who was killed was instantly taken by another, who
besides the common cause had also a private death to
revenge. Such was the combat between injustice and
virtue. These base people, who sought nothing but the
spoil, were not ashamed to fly, and submit to the virtue
of the Troglodites, and even without being touched with
a sense of it.
Erzeron the 9th of
the moon of the 2d Gemmadi, 1711.
LETTER. XIV.
Usbek to the Same.
AS these people,
the Troglodites, every day grew more numerous, they
thought it necessary to elect a king; they determined to
offer the crown to him who was the most just; and cast
their eyes on one venerable for his age, and a long
course of virtue; but he would not attend the assembly,
and retired to his own house with a heart oppressed with
grief. They then sent deputies to him, to acquaint him
of the choice they had made of him. “The gods forbid,
said he, that I should so wrong the Troglodites, as that
they should believe that there is not a more just person
among them than myself. You offer me the crown, and if
you will absolutely have it to be so, I must accept it;
but be assured I shall die of grief, at having seen the
Troglodites born free, now to see them become
subject.”—At these words he lamented with a torrent of
tears. “Miserable day! said he, why have I lived so
long?” Then cried he, in a severer accent, “I very well
perceive what is the cause, O ye Troglodites; your
virtue begins to be too heavy for you. In the state you
are, without a head, you are constrained to be virtuous
in spite of yourselves, or you cannot subsist, but must
sink into the miseries of your ancestors. But this seems
too hard a yoke for you; you like better to be subject
to a king, and to obey his laws, less rigid than your
morals. You know that then you may gratify your
ambition, gain riches, and languish in slothful luxury,
and, provided you avoid falling into great crimes, you
will have no want of virtue.” He ceased a little, and
his tears flowed more than ever.—“And what do you expect
me to do? How can it be that I should command a
Troglodite any thing? Would you have him act virtuously
because I command him, which he would do wholly of
himself without me, and purely from a natural
inclination? Oh Troglodites, I am at the end of my days,
my blood is frozen in my veins, I shall soon go to
revisit your holy ancestors; why would you have me
afflict them, and why must I be obliged to inform them
that I left you under any other yoke than that of
virtue?”
Erzeron, the 10th
of the moon of the 2d Gammadi, 1711.
LETTER XV.
The first Eunuch,
to Jaron, the Black Eunuch,
at Erzeron.
I PRAY heaven
that it may bring thee back to these parts, and defend
thee from all danger. Though I have scarcely ever been
sensible of that engagement which is called friendship,
and am entirely swallowed up in myself, yet thou hast
however made me feel that I have a heart, and at the
same time that I was as brass to the rest of the slaves
who lived under my command, I saw with pleasure thy
infancy grow up. The time when my master cast his eyes
on thee approached. Nature had not then inspired thee
with its dictates, when the iron separated thee from
what is natural. I will not confess whether I bewailed
thee, or whether I was sensible of the pleasure of
seeing thee brought into the same condition with myself.
I appeased thy tears and thy cries. I imagined I saw
thee undergo a second birth, and passing from a state of
servitude, in which thou must always have obeyed, to
engage in one in which thou oughtest always to command.
I took upon myself the care of thy education. That
severity, which is ever inseparable from instruction,
kept thee long ignorant that thou wast dear to me.
However, thou wast so to me; and I assure thee that I
loved thee as a father loves his son, if the words,
father and son, are compatible with our condition. Thou
art to pass through countries inhabited by Christians,
who have never believed: it is impossible but that thou
must there contract some impurities. How can the prophet
behold thee in the midst of so many millions of his
enemies? I wish my master, on his return, would
undertake a pilgrimage to Mecca; you would be purified
in that land of angels.
From the seraglio,
the 10th of the moon Gemmadi, 1711.
LETTER XVI.
Usbek to
Mollak Mehemet Ali, Guardian
of the Three Tombs, at Com.
WHY dost thou
live, divine Mollak, in the tombs? Thou art better made
for the abode of the stars. Thou doubtless hidest
thyself through fear of obscuring the sun; thou hast no
spots like that star, yet like him thou art covered with
clouds. Thy knowledge is an abyss deeper than the ocean;
thy wit more piercing than Zufagar, the sword of Hali,
which had two points; thou art acquainted with what
passes in the nine choirs of the celestial powers. Thou
readest the Koran on the breast of our holy prophet, and
when thou findest any obscure passage, an angel, at his
command, spreads his rapid wings, to descend from the
throne, to reveal to thee the secret. I may, by thy
means, have an intimate correspondence with the
seraphim, for, in short, thou thirteenth Iman, art thou
not the centre where heaven and earth meet, the point of
communication between the abyss and the empyreal heaven?
I am in the middle of a profane people; permit that I
may purify myself with thee; suffer me to turn my face
towards thy holy place where thou dwellest. Distinguish
me from the wicked, as the white thread is distinguished
from the black; at the rising of Aurora, aid me with thy
councils; take care of my soul; make it to drink of the
spirit of the prophets; feed it with the science of
Paradise, and permit that I display its wounds at thy
feet. Address thy holy letters to me at Erzeron; where I
shall continue some months.
Erzeron, the 11th
of the moon of the 2d Gemmadi, 1711.
LETTER XVII.
Usbek to the Same.
I CANNOT, divine
Mollak, quiet my impatience; I know not how to wait for
thy sublime answer: I have doubts which must be
satisfied; I perceive that my reason wanders; restore it
to the right path; enlighten me, thou source of light;
drive away, with thy divine pen, the difficulties I am
now going to propose to thee; make me commiserate
myself, and even blush at the questions I am about to
ask. Why does our legislator restrain us from swine’s
flesh, and from all those meats which he calls unclean?
Why are we forbidden to touch a corpse? And why, for the
purification of our souls, are we commanded continually
to wash our bodies? these things appear to me to be, in
themselves, neither pure nor impure; for that they
should be rendered such by any inherent quality in them,
I cannot conceive. Dirt appears filthy to us, only
because it is offensive to our sight, or to some other
of our senses, yet in itself it is no more so than gold
or diamonds. The idea of filthiness contracted by
touching a dead body, arises only from a certain
repugnance which we have to it. If the bodies of those
who do not wash themselves neither offended our smell
nor sight, how could we imagine them to be impure?
Therefore the senses, divine Mollak, ought to be the
only judges of the purity or impurity of things; yet, as
the same objects do not affect all men in the same
manner, as that which yields an agreeable sensation to
some, affords an unpleasant one to others, it follows
that the evidence of our senses cannot in this case
serve as a rule, unless we allow that each person may,
according to his own fancy, determine the point, and
distinguish, for what relates to himself, what things
are pure or impure. But would not this, divine Mollak,
overturn all the distinctions established by our holy
prophet, and the fundamental points of that law which
was written by the fingers of angels?
Erzeron, the 20th
of the moon of the 2d Gemmadi, 1711.
LETTER XVIII.
Mollak Mehemet Ali to
Usbek, at
Erzeron.
THOU art
always offering questions which have a thousand times
been proposed to our holy prophet. Why dost thou not
read the traditions of the doctors? Why dost thou not go
to that pure fountain of all intelligence? Thou wouldest
there find all thy doubts resolved. Unhappy man! who art
continually embarrassed with worldly things; having
never fixed thy attention on the things of heaven; and
who reverencest the order of the Mollaks, without daring
to embrace or follow it! profane beings! who never enter
into the secrets of the Eternal; your lights resemble
the darkness of the abyss, and the reasonings of your
mind are as the dust, which your feet throw up when the
sun reaches the meridian in the scorching month of
Chahban. Nor does the zenith of your understanding reach
to the nadir of the meanest Imaum. Your vain philosophy
is that lightning which foretels tempests and darkness;
thou art in the midst of the storm, and carried to and
fro with every gust of wind. The solution of your
difficulty is very easy; nothing more is necessary but
to relate to you what one day happened to our holy
prophet, when being tempted by the Christians, and tried
by the Jews, he equally confounded each of them. Abdias
Ibesalon
, the Jew, asked the prophet, why God had prohibited the
eating of swine’s flesh? “Not without reason, replied
Mahomet, it is an unclean animal, and that it is so I
will instantly convince you.” He moulded some dirt in
his hand into the figure of a man, threw it upon the
ground, and cried, “Arise thou!” Immediately a man
arose, and said, “I am Japhet, the son of Noah.” To whom
the holy prophet said, “Was thy hair as white at the
time of thy death?” “No, replied he; but when thou didst
awake me, I thought the day of judgment was come, and I
felt so great a terror, that my hair was changed to
white in a moment.”—“Now relate to me, said the Sent of
God, the entire history of what happened in Noah’s ark.”
Japhet obeyed, and gave an exact account of the events
of the first months, and then continued as follows:
“All the dung of the beasts we cast to one side of the
ark, which made it lean so much, that we were all
terribly frightened, especially our wives, who made an
horrible lamentation. Our father Noah, having taken
counsel of God, he ordered him to remove the elephant to
that part, and to turn his head toward the side which
leaned. This huge animal made such plentiful evacuations
that a hog was produced from them.” Dost thou not
believe, Usbek, that from this time we have abstained
from this animal, and regarded it as unclean? But as
this hog wallowed daily in the dung, he raised such a
stench in the ark, that he himself could not help
sneezing, and a rat fell from his nose, which
immediately ghawed every thing he met with, and thereby
he became so intolerable to Noah, that he once more
thought it necessary to consult God. He ordered him to
strike the lion a great blow on his forehead, who also
sneezed, and from his nose leaped a cat. Dost thou not
believe these animals also to be unclean? How does it
appear to thee? Therefore when thou dost not comprehend
the reason why certain things art unclean, it is because
thou art ignorant of many other things, and hast not a
knowledge of what has passed between God, the angels,
and men. Thou knowest not the history of eternity; thou
hast not read the books which were written in heaven;
that which hath been revealed to thee is only a small
portion of the divine library; even those who, like us,
have approached much nearer, so as to be in this kind of
life, are nevertheless in obscurity and darkness.
Farewel. May Mahomet be in thy heart.
Com, the last day
of the moon Chahban, 1711.
LETTER XIX.
Usbek to his Friend
Rustan, at
Ispahan.
AT Tocat
we continued but eight days; after a journey of five and
thirty days, we reached Smyrna. Between Tocat and Smyrna
we saw only one city, which merited that name. I was
surprised to see the weak state of the Osmalin empire.
This distempered body does not support itself by a mild
and temperate government, but by such violent remedies
as incessantly exhaust and destroy it. The bashaws, who
procure their employments only by the power of money,
enter those provinces in a ruined condition, and ravage
them as conquered countries. An insolent militia,
subject only to its own caprice; the towns dismantled,
the cities deserted, the country desolated, the culture
of the land and commerce entirely neglected. Under this
severe government impunity reigns; the Christians, who
cultivate the lands, and the Jews, who collect the
tribute, are exposed to a thousand outrages. The
property of the lands is uncertain, and consequently the
desire of increasing their value diminished; as neither
title nor possession are a sufficient security against
the caprice of those who have the government. These
barbarians have so far abandoned the arts, that they
have even neglected the military art. Whilst all Europe
grows daily more refined, they remain in their ancient
ignorance, and rarely think of improving by their new
inventions, till they have been a thousand times
employed against them. They have gained no experience at
sea; no skill in naval affairs; a mere handful of
Christians, the possessors of a barren rock
, are a terror to the Ottoman race, and distress their
whole empire. It is with anxiety they suffer the
Christians, always laborious and enterprising, to carry
on for them that commerce for which themselves are
unfit; they imagine they are granting a favour, when
they permit these foreigners to enrich themselves.
Through this vast extent of country that I have passed,
Smyrna is the only rich and powerful city that I have
observed; it is the Europeans that have rendered it
such, and it is no fault of the Turks that it is not in
the same miserable condition with the others. See, dear
Rustan, a just representation of this empire, which in
less than two centuries will be the theatre of triumph
to some new conqueror.
Smyrna, the 2d of
the moon of Rahmazan, 1711.
LETTER XX.
Usbek to
Zachi, his Wife, at the
Seraglio at Ispahan.
THOU hast
offended me, Zachi, I feel emotions in my heart at which
you ought to tremble, if the distance I am at did not
afford thee time to alter thy conduct, and allay the
excessive jealousy with which I am tormented. I am
informed, that you were catched alone with Nadir, the
white eunuch, whose head shall pay for his infidelity
and treachery. How could you forget yourself so far as
not to be sensible that it is not allowed you to receive
a white eunuch into your chamber, whilst you have black
ones appointed to serve you? You may say what you will
to me; that these eunuchs are not men; and that your
virtue raises you above all thoughts that an imperfect
likeness might give birth to. This is not sufficient
either for you, or for me; not for you, because you have
done what the laws of the seraglio forbid; nor for me,
in that you rob me of my honour, in exposing yourself to
the looks; to the looks, did I say? it may be, to the
attempts of a traitor, who may have defiled you by his
crimes, and yet more by the repinings of his despair,
and of his impotence. Perhaps you will say, that you
have always continued faithful. How had you a power to
be otherwise? How could you deceive the vigilance of
those black eunuchs, who are astonished at the life you
lead? How could you break through those bolts and doors
with which you are locked up? You glory in a virtue
which is not free, and perhaps your impure desires have
robbed you a thousand times of the merit and value of
that fidelity of which you so much boast. I will admit
that you have not done all that I might reasonably
suspect; that this traitor has not laid his sacrilegious
hands upon you; that you have refused to indulge him
with a sight of the delights of his master; that,
covered with your habit, you let that weak barrier
between you and him remain; that, struck with a
reverential awe, he cast his eyes to the ground; that,
failing in his courage, he trembled at the chastisement
he was preparing for himself. Though all this should be
true, it is nevertheless so, that you have acted
contrary to your duty. And if you have broken through
your duty for nothing, without fulfilling your irregular
desires, what would you have done to gratify them? What
would you do, if you could leave that sacred place,
which seems to you a melancholy prison, though it is an
happy asylum to your companions against the attacks of
vice; an holy temple, where your sex loses its weakness,
and finds itself invincible, in opposition to all the
disadvantages of nature? What would you do, if,
abandoned to yourself you had no other defence but your
love to me, which is so grievously injured, and your own
duty, which you have so basely acted against? How sacred
are the manners of the country in which you live, which
secure you from the attempts of the meanest slaves! You
ought to thank me for the restraint I make you live
under, since it is by that only that you even merit to
live. The chief of the eunuchs is intolerable to you,
because he is always attentive to your conduct, and
affords you his sage advice. You cannot look at him, you
say, without uneasiness, because he is so extremely
ugly, as if the handsomest objects should be appointed
to such kind of posts as his. The not having in his
place the white eunuch, who dishonours you, is what
afflicts you. But what has your chief slave done to you?
She has told you, that the familiarities you take with
young Zelida are not decent; this is the cause of your
aversion. I ought, Zachi, to be a severe judge, but I am
a kind husband, who desire to find you innocent. The
love I bear to Roxana, my new spouse, has not deprived
me of that tenderness which I ought to entertain for
you, who are not less beautiful. I divide my love
between you two, and Roxana hath no other advantage but
what beauty receives from the addition of virtue.
Smyrna, the 12th of
the moon Zilcade, 1711.
LETTER XXI.
Usbek, to the chief White
Eunuch.
WHEN you open
this letter you ought to tremble; or rather you ought to
have done so when you permitted the treachery of Nadir.
You who, in a cold languishing old age, may not
guiltless raise your eyes to the dreadful objects of my
love; you, to whom it is never allowed to put your
sacrilegious foot over the threshold of the tremendous
place which conceals them from the view of every human
eye; you suffer those whose conduct is intrusted to your
care to do what you have not boldness enough to do
yourself; and are you not sensible of the thunder just
ready to break on you and them? And what are you but
vile instruments which I can destroy according to my
humour, who exist only as long as you obey; who were
born only to live under my laws, or to die at my
pleasure; who do not breathe longer than my happiness,
my love, and even my jealousy, have need of your
servility; in short, who have no other portion but
submission, no other will but my pleasure, and no hope
but my happiness. Some of my wives, I know, bear with
impatience the strict laws of duty; the continual
presence of a black Eunuch disgusts them; they are tired
with those frightful objects which are appointed to
confine their affections to their husband; all this I
know. But you, who have taken part in this irregularity,
you shall be punished in such a manner as to make all
those who have abused my confidence tremble. By all the
prophets in heaven, and by Hali, the greatest of them
all, I swear, that if you swerve from your duty, I will
regard your life but as the life of those infects which
I crush under my feet.
Smyrna, the 2d of
the moon Zilcade, 1711.
LETTER XXII.
Jaron to the first Eunuch.
USBEK, in
proportion as he removes further from his seraglio,
turns his mind towards those women who are devoted to
him: he sighs; he sheds tears; his grief augments; his
suspicions gain strength. He wants to encrease the
number of their guardians. He is going to send me back
again, with all the blacks who attend him. His fears are
not for himself, but for what is dearer to him a
thousand times than himself. I return then to live under
thy laws, and to divide thy cares. Alas! how many things
are necessary to the happiness of one man! At the same
instant that nature placed women in a dependent state,
it seemed to deliver them from it; disorder arose
between the two sexes, because their rights were mutual.
The plan of harmony we have engaged in is new: we have
put hatred between the women and us, love between the
men and women. My brow is becoming stern, I shall
contract a gloomy air, joy shall fly from my lips. I
shall outwardly appear calm, and my mind disturbed. I
shall not wait for the wrinkles of old age to shew its
peevishness. I should have taken pleasure in attending
my master to the west, but my will is his property. He
will have me guard his women; I will watch them
faithfully. I know how I ought to carry myself with the
sex, which, when not allowed to be vain, becomes proud;
and which it is more easy to destroy than to humble. I
prostrate myself in thy presence.
Smyrna, the 12th of
the moon Zilcade, 1711.
LETTER XXIII.
Usbek to his Friend
Ibben, at
Smyrna.
AFTER a
sail of forty days, we have reached Leghorn. It is a new
city, a proof of the great genius of the dukes of
Tuscany, who have raised the most flourishing city in
Italy from a marshy village. Here the women are greatly
indulged: they may look at men through certain windows,
called jealousies; they may go out every day,
accompanied only by some old women; they wear only a
single veil
. Their brothers-in-law, uncles, and nephews may visit
them; at which the husband is scarcely ever offended.
The first view of a Christian city is a great sight to a
Mahometan. I do not mean such things as at first view
strike every spectator, as the difference of buildings,
dress, and principal customs; there is, even to the
minutest thing, a singularity which I know not how to
describe, though I can feel it. We set out for
Marseilles tomorrow; our continuance there will be
short; for Rica and I design to go immediately to Paris,
which is the seat of the European empire. Great cities
are always the desired objects of travellers; for they
are a kind of common country to all strangers. Farewel;
be assured I shall always love you.
Leghorn the 12th of
the moon Saphar, 1712.
LETTER XXIV.
Rica to
Ibben, at Smyrna.
WE have been
this month at Paris, and all the while in a continual
motion. There is a good deal to be done before one can
be settled, meet with all the persons one has business
with, and procure every thing necessary, all which are
wonted at once. Paris is as large as Ispahan. One would
imagine the houses were only inhabited by astrologers,
they are so lofty. Thou wilt easily judge, that a city
built in the air, which has six or seven houses one on
another, must be extremely populous, and that when all
this world of people are come down into the streets,
there must be a fine bustle. Thou wilt not, perhaps,
believe, that during the month I have been here, I have
not yet seen one person a walking. There is no people in
the world who make better use of their machines than the
French; they run; they fly; the slow carriages of Asia,
the regular pace of our camels, would make them fall
asleep. As for my own part, who am not made for such
expedition, and who often go on foot without altering my
pace, I am sometimes as mad as a Christian; for, passing
over the splashing me from head to foot, I cannot pardon
the punches of elbows, which I receive regularly and
periodically. A man comes behind me, and passes me,
turns me half round, and another who crosses me on the
other fide, in an instant returns me back again into my
first place; and I am more bruised before I have walked
a hundred paces than if I had travelled ten leagues.
Thou must not expect that I can as yet give thee a
perfect account of the European manners and customs; I
have myself only a faint idea of them, and have scarcely
had more than time to wonder. The king of France is the
most puissant prince in Europe. He has not, like his
neighbour the king of Spain, mines of gold; but his
riches are greater than his; for he supplies them from
the vanity of his subjects, more inexhaustible than
those mines. He has engaged in, and supported, great
wars, without any other fund than the sale of titles of
honour, and his troops have been paid, his towns
fortified, and his fleets fitted out, by a prodigy of
human pride. This prince is, besides, a great magician;
he exercises his empire even over the minds of his
subjects, and makes them think as he pleases. If he has
but only a thousand crowns in his treasury, and has
occasion for two, he needs only tell them that one crown
is worth two, and they believe it. If he has a difficult
war to maintain, and has no money, he has only to put it
into their heads that a piece of paper is money, and
they are presently convinced of the truth of it. He even
goes so far as to make them believe that he can cure
them of all kinds of evils by touching them; so great is
the power and influence which he has over their minds.
Thou needest not be astonished at what I tell thee of
this prince; there is another magician more powerful
than he, who is no less master of his mind than he is of
those of others. This magician is called the Pope:
sometimes he makes him believe, that the bread which he
eats is not bread, or that the wine which he drinks is
not wine, and a thousand other things of the same
nature. And, to keep him always in breath, and that he
may not lose the habit of believing, he gives him, from
time to time, to exercise him, certain articles of
faith. It is two years since he sent him a large scroll,
which he called constitution, and would needs
oblige, under great penalties, this prince and all his
subjects, to believe every thing it contained. He
succeeded with the king, who instantly submitted, and
set an example to his subjects; but some among them
revolted, and declared they would believe nothing of all
that was contained in the scroll. The women are the
movers of this rebellion, which divides the whole court,
all the kingdom, and every family in it. This
constitution prohibits the women reading a book,
which all the Christians say was brought down from
heaven; which is properly their Koran. The women,
enraged at this affront offered to their sex, raise all
their force against the constitution; they have
gained the men to their party, who, on this occalion,
will not receive their privilege. The Mufti, it must be
owned, does not reason amiss; and, by the great Hali, it
must be, that he has been instructed in the principles
of our holy faith; for, since the women are an inferior
creation to ours, and our prophets insorm us, that they
will not enter into Paradise, for what end should they
corcern themselves in reading a book, which is only
designed to teach the way to Paradise? Some miraculous
things I have heard related to the king, which I doubt
not but you will hesitate to believe. It is said, that
whilst he made war against his neighbours, who were all
leagued against him, he had in his kingdom an infinite
number of enemies, who surrounded him. They add, that he
searched for them above thirty years, and that,
notwithstanding the unwearied pains of some dervises,
who have his confidence, he could never discover one.
They live with him; are in his court, in his capital, in
his troops, in his tribunals; yet it is said, he will
have the mortisication to die without finding one of
them. They may be said to have a general existence, and
to have nothing of individuality; it is a body, but
without members. Doubtless it is heaven that would
punish this prince, for not having been sufficiently
moderate towards his conquered enemies, since it hath
raised up against him invisible ones, whose genius and
appointment are superior to his own. I shall continue to
write to you, and to acquaint you with things extremely
remote from the character and genius of the Persians. It
is indeed the same earth that bears us both; yet the men
of the country in which I live, and those of that which
thou inhabitest, are very different kinds of men.
Paris, the 4th of
the moon of the 2d Rebiah, 1712.
LETTER XXV.
Usbek to
Ibben, at
Smyrna.
I HAVE received
a letter from thy nephew Rhedi, who acquaints me with
his design to see Italy, and that the sole view of his
voyage is to improve himself, and thereby to render
himself more worthy of thee. I congratulate thee, on
having a nephew who will one day be the comfort of thy
old age. Rica writes thee a long letter; he tells me
that he gives thee a large account of this country. The
quickness of his understanding makes him apprehend every
thing with ease; as to me, who conceive more slowly, I
cannot at present inform thee of any thing. Thou art the
subject of our most tender conversations; we can never
talk enough of the kind reception you afforded us at
Smyrna; nor of the friendship thou renderedst us. Mayest
thou, generous Ibben, find every where friends, as
grateful and as faithful as we! May I soon see thee
again, and once more enjoy with thee those happy days,
which pass so sweetly between two friends. Farewel.
Paris, the 4th of
the moon of the 2d Rebiab, 1712.
LETTER XXVI.
Usbek to
Roxana, at the Seraglio at
Ispahan.
HOW happy art
thou, Roxana, to be in the delightful country of Persia,
and not in these poisoned climes, where neither virtue
nor modesty are known! How happy art thou! Thou livest
in my seraglio, as in the abode of innocence, secure
from the attempts of all mankind! you, with pleasure,
experience a happy inability to go astray; never did man
pollute you with his lascivious looks; during the
freedom of festivities even your father-in-law never saw
your fine mouth; you never neglected to cover it with a
holy veil. Happy Roxana! whenever you have gone into the
country, you have always had eunuchs to march before, to
punish with death the temerity of those who did not fly
from your sight. Even I myself, to whom heaven gave you
to make me happy, how much trouble have I had to render
myself master of that treasure, which with so much
constancy you defended! How distressing to me, during
the first days of our marriage, not to see you! And how
impatient when I had beheld you! Yet you would not
satisfy it; on the contrary you increased it, by the
obstinate refusals of your bashful alarms; you did not
distinguish me from all other men, from whom you are
always concealed. Do you recollect the day I lost you
among your slaves, who betrayed me, and hid you from my
searches? Do you remember another time, when, finding
your tears insufficient, you engaged the authority of
your mother, to stop the eagerness of my love? Do you
remember, when every other resource failed you, those
you found in your own courage? You took a dagger, and
threatened to sacrifice a husband who loved you, if he
persisted in requiring of you what you prized more than
your husband himself. Two months passed in the struggle
between love and modesty. You carried your modest
scruples too far; you did not even submit after you were
conquered. You defended to the last moment a dying
virginity; you regarded me as an enemy who had done you
a wrong, not as a husband who had loved you; you was
above three months before you could look at me without a
blush; your bashful looks seemed to reproach me with the
advantage I had taken. I did not enjoy even a quiet
possession; you deprived me of all those charms and
graces that you could; and without having obtained the
least favours, I was ravished with the greatest. If your
education had been in this country, here you would not
have been so troublesome. The women here have lost all
modesty; they present themselves before the men with
their faces uncovered, as though they would demand of
them their defeat; they watch for their looks; they see
them in thier mosques, their public walks, and even by
themselves; the service of eunuchs is unknown to them.
In the room of that noble simplicity, and that amiable
modesty which reigns amongst you, a brutal impudence
prevails, to which it is impossible to be accustomed.
Yes, if thou wert here, Roxana, you would be enraged at
the wretched shamefulness to which your sex is
degenerated; you would fly these polluted places, and
sigh for that sweet retreat, where you find innocence,
and yourself secure, and where no dangers terrify you:
in a word, where you can love me without fear of ever
losing that love for me which is my due. When you
heighten your beautiful complexion with the finest
colours; when you persume your whole body with the most
precious effences, when you deck yourself with the
richest dresses, when you endeavour to distinguish
yourself from your companions by your graceful motions
in dancing, and when, by the sweetness of your voice,
you pleasingly dispute with them charms, affability, and
gaiety, I cannot imagine you have any other object to
please but myself; and when I see your modest blush,
that your eyes seek mine, that you insinuate yourself
into my heart by your soft alluring speeches, I cannot,
Roxana, suspect your love. But what can I think of the
European women? The art which forms their complexion,
the ornaments they use in dress, the pains which they
take with their persons, the constant desire to please
that possesses them, are blemishes in their virtue, and
affronts to their husbands. It is not, Roxana, that I
suspect they carry their incroachments upon virtue to
such a length as their conduct might lead one to
believe; or that they carry their defection to such a
horrid excess, that makes one tremble, as really to
violate the conjugal vow. There are few women abondoned
enough to go this length; they all bear in their hearts
a certain impression of virtue, naturally engraved on
them, which though their education may weaken, it cannot
destroy. Though they may decline the external duties
which modesty exacts; yet when about to take the last
step, nature returns to their help. Thus when we shut
you up closely, when we make you be guarded by so many
slaves, when we so strongly restrain your desires when
they would range too far; it is not that we fear the
least infidelity; but because we know that purity cannot
be too great, and that by the least stain it may be
polluted. I pity you, Roxana; your chastity, so long
tried, merited a husband who would never have left you,
and who might himself have satisfied those desires which
can be subdued by your virtue alone.
Paris, the 7th day
of the moon Regeb, 1712.
LETTER XXVII.
Usbek to
Nessir, at
Ispahan.
WE are at
present at Paris, that proud rival of the city of the
Sun
. I engaged my friend Ibben, when I left Smyrna, to send
a box to thee, containing some presents for thee; by the
same means thou wilt receive this letter. Though removed
at so great a distance from him, as five or six hundred
leagues, I send my letters to him, and receive his, with
as much facility as if he was at Ispahan, and myself at
Com. My letters I send to Marseilles, from whence there
are vessels going continually to Smyrna; from thence,
those intended for Persia, he sends by the Armenian
caravans, which are constantly departing for Ispahan.
Rica enjoys perfect health; his strong constitution,
youth, and natural chearfulness, render him superior to
every affliction. But, for my own part, I am not well;
my body and mind are both depressed; I give myself up to
reflections which every day become more melancholy; my
health, which is impaired, turns my mind towards my own
country, and renders this country still more foreign to
me. But I conjure thee, dear Nessir, take care that my
wives may be ignorant of the condition I am in; for if
they love me, I would spare their fears; and if they
love me not, I would not increase their boldness. If my
eunuchs believed me in danger, if they could hope their
base compliance would pass unpunished; they would soon
cease to be deaf to the flattering voice of that sex,
which can melt rocks, and move things inanimate.
Farewel, Nessir; it is a happiness to me to afford thee
proofs of my confidence.
Paris, the 5th day
of the moon of Chahban, 1712.
LETTER XXVIII.
Rica to
* * *.
YESTERDAY I saw
a very extraordinary thing, though it happens every day
at Paris. After dinner, towards evening, all the people
assemble to act a kind of mimickry, which I heard called
a play. The performance is in a place called a theatre;
on each side are little nooks, called boxes, in which
the men and women act together dumb scenes; something
like those in use in Persia. Here you see a languishing
love-sick lady; another more animated eagerly ogling her
lover, whose returns are as ardent; all the passions are
painted in their faces, and expressed by an eloquence
which, though dumb, is not the less lively. Here, the
actresses expose but half their bodies, and commonly,
cut of modesty, wear a muff to conceal their arms. In
the lower part of the theatre is a troop of people
standing, who ridicule those who are above, and they in
their turn, laugh at those below. But those who put
themselves to the greatest trouble, are some who take
the advantage of their youth to support the fatigue of
it. They are forced to be every where, they go through
passages known only to themselves, they mount, with
extraordinary activity from story to story; they are
above, below, and in every box; they dive, if I may so
speak; they are lost this moment, and appear again the
next; they often leave the place of scene, and go to
play in another. Now there are others, though such a
prodigy is not to be expected, seeing they use crutches,
who walk and move about like the others. You come, at
length, to some rooms where they act a private comedy.
This commences with low bows, continued by embraces; the
slightest acquaintance, they say, gives a man a right to
squeeze another to death. This place seems to inspire
tenderness; in fact, they say, that the princesses who
reign here are not cruel, and excepting two or three
hours a day, in which they are hard-hearted enough, one
must allow that they are very tractable, and that the
other humour is a kind of drunkenness which they easily
quit. All that I have been relating to you, is pretty
nearly transacted in another place, called the
Opera-house; all the difference is, that they speak at
the one, and sing at the other. A friend of mine, the
other day, took me into a room where one of the
principal actresses was undressing; we became so
intimate, that the next day I received from her the
following epistle.
“Sir,
“I am the most
unhappy woman in the world. I have been always the most
virtuous woman in the whole opera. Seven or eight months
ago, as I was dressing myself for a priestess of Diana,
in the same room you saw me in yesterday, a young abbot
came in, and regardless of my white habit, my veil, or
my frontlet, deprived me of my innocence. I have in vain
remonstrated to him the sacrifice I made to him, he only
laughs, and maintains he found me a very profane woman.
In the mean time I dare not come upon the stage I am so
big; for I am, with respect to honour, inconceivably
delicate, and I always insist, that to a woman well born
it is more easy to lose her virtue than her modesty.
With this delicacy, you may readily judge, that the
young abbot had never succeeded, if he had not made to
me a promise of marriage; such a lawful motive induced
me to pass over those little usual formalities, and to
begin where I ought to have concluded. But since his
infidelity has dishonoured me, I will no longer continue
at the opera, where, between you and me, they scarcely
give me sufficient for my support; for, at present, that
I advance in years, and lose the advantage of charms, my
salary, though the same, seems to diminish daily. I have
learned from one of your attendants, that in your
country a good dancer is highly esteemed, and that if I
was at Ispahan, my fortune would be quickly made. If you
would take me under your protection, you would have the
praise of doing good to a woman, who by her virtue and
prudent conduct, would not render herself unworthy of
your generosity. I am, &c.”
From Paris the 2d
of the moon of Chalval, 1712.
LETTER XXIX.
Rica to
Ibben at Smyrna.
THE Pope
is the head of the Christians; an old idol whom they
reverence through custom. He was heretofore terrible
even to princes themselves; for he deposed them as
easily as our magnificent sultans do the kings of
Iremetta and Georgia; but he is no longer feared. He
says he is the successor of one of the first Christians,
named Saint Peter; and it is certainly a rich
succession, for he hath immense treasures, and a large
country under his dominion. The bishops are the men of
the law, who are subject to him, and have, under his
authority, two very different functions. Articles of
faith are constituted by them as well as by himself,
when they are assembled together. When they are
separated, the business of their function is no other,
than to dispense with the fulfilment of the law. For the
Christian religion, thou must know, is loaded with a
vast number of very difficult practices, and as it is
judged less easy to fulfil those obligations, than to
have bishops to dispense with them, they have, for the
public benefit, taken the latter method, in such a
manner, that if they are not willing to observe the fast
of Rahmazan
, if unwilling to subject them to the formalities of
marriage, if they would break their vows, if they would
marry contrary to the appointment of the law; nay,
sometimes if they are desirous not to abide by their
oath, they go to the Bishop or Pope, who presently
grants a dispensation. The bishops do not make articles
of faith of their own proper accord. There is a
prodigious number of doctors, for the most part
dervises, who raise among themselves new questions in
religion, which are lest in dispute a long time, and the
contention subsists until a decision comes to terminate
it. I can also affirm to thee, that there never was a
kingdom where there has been so many civil wars as in
that of Christ. Those who publish any new proposition,
are at once called heretics; each heresy has its own
name, which is used in ridicule to those who engage in
it. But no man need to be an heretic unless he will; he
has only to divide the difference in the middle, and
admit a distinction to those who charge him with heresy,
and provided there be a distinction, intelligible or
not, he purifies himself as white as snow, and may make
himself esteemed orthodox. What I tell you does very
well in France and Germany; but I have heard that in
Spain and Portugal the dervises do not relish jesting,
and will burn a man as readily as they would straw. When
a man comes into the hands of these people there, it is
happy for him if he has always prayed to God with little
wooden balls in his hands, that he has carried about
with him pieces of cloth fastened to two ribbons, and
that he has been sometimes in the province of Galicia;
otherwise the poor devil is terribly embarrassed. Though
he should swear like a pagan that he is orthodox, it is
possible they may not admit his plea, and may burn him
for an heretic, it is to no purpose for him to make
distinctions, away with distinctions, he shall be in
ashes before they even think of hearing him. The judges
here commonly presume upon the innocence of the accused;
there they always suppose the party culpable. If in
doubt, it is their custom to determine on the side of
severity; probably because they think badly of mankind;
but the others conceive so well of them that they never
judge them capable of a lie, for they receive the
testimony of mortal enemies, of loose women, of such who
follow an infamous calling. The others in their sentence
pay a slight compliment to those whom they dress up in a
shirt painted with flames of fire; and assure them that
they are extremely concerned to see them so badly
habited; that their own disposition is to mercy; that
they abhor blood, and that they are grieved at having
condemned them. But for their own consolation, they
confiscate to their own emolument all the effects of the
miserable sufferers. Happy the land which is possessed
by the children of the prophets! There these melancholy
spectacles are unknown
. The holy religion brought there by angels, maintains
its power by truth itself; it needs no cruel means for
its support.
Paris, the 4th of
the moon Chalval, 1712.
LETTER XXX.
Rica to the Same, at
Smyrna.
THE people of
Paris are curious to an extravagant degree. When I came
here I was stared at as if I had been sent from heaven;
old and young, men, women, and children, all must have a
peep at me. If I went out, every body was at their
window; if I walked in the Thuilleries, I was presently
surrounded by a circle; the women formed a rainbow about
me, variegated with a thousand colours; if I attended
the public shows, my strange figure attracted a hundred
spying glasses; in short, never was a man so much looked
at as myself. I smiled sometimes at hearing persons, who
but scarcely ever stirred from their chamber, whispering
to each other, it must be allowed he has much of the air
of a Persian. But what is very wonderful, I met with my
own picture every where, saw myself multiplied in every
shop, upon every chimney-piece; so fearful were they of
not seeing me sufficiently. All these honours however
are only burdensome; I did not imagine I was so curious,
or so extraordinary a person; and though I think very
well of myself, I never imagined I should have disturbed
the quiet of a great city where I was wholly unknown.
This determined me to quit my Persian dress, and put on
that of an European, to try if my physiognomy would yet
retain any of the wonderful. This experiment convinced
me of what I really was; divested of these foreign
ornaments I found myself properly rated. I had occasion
enough to be displeased with my taylor for making me
lose all public regard and attention, for I at once sunk
into a contemptible nothingness. I was sometimes an hour
in company without being the least noticed, and without
any body’s giving me occasion to speak. But if by chance
any one informed the company that I was a Persian, there
was a buz around me; ha! ha! the gentleman a Persian!
very strange, that any one should be a Persian!
Paris, the 6th of
the moon Chalval, 1712.
LETTER XXXI.
Rhedi to
Usbek, at
Paris.
I AM at present,
my dear Usbek, at Venice. After seeing all the cities in
the world, a person may be surprised on his arrival at
Venice; it will always excite wonder to see a city whose
spires and mosques rise out of the water, and to meet
with an innumerable people in a place where naturally
fishes ought only to be found. But this profane city
wants the most precious treasure in the world, that is,
pure water; it is impossible here to perform a single
legal ablution. This city is an abomination to our holy
prophet, who never beholds it from the height of heaven
but with indignation. Was it not for this, my dear
Usbek, I should be delighted to spend my life here,
where my understanding is every day improved. I gain a
knowledge of commercial secrets, the interests of
princes, their method of government; nor do I even
despise the European superstitions; I apply to
medicines, physics, astronomy; I study the arts; in
short, I get out of the clouds in which I was enveloped
in my native country.
Venice, the 16th of
the moon Chalval, 1712.
LETTER XXXII.
Rica to
* * *.
THE other day I
went to see a house where a mean provision is made for
about three hundred persons. I had soon done, for the
church and the buildings are not worth regarding. The
inhabitants of this house are very chearful, many of
them play together at cards, or at other games that I do
not understand. As I was coming away, one of these men
was going out also, and hearing me enquire the way to
Murais, which is the most extreme quarter of all Paris,
“I am going there, said he to me, and I will conduct you
there; follow me.” He guided me admirably, cleared me
from crouds, and saved me very dextrously from coaches
and carriages. Our walk was pretty near at an end when
my curiosity prompted me: “My good friend, said I to
him, may I not know who you are?” “I am, Sir, replied
he, a blindman.” “How? said I to him, are you blind? And
why did you not desire the honest man you was playing at
cards with to conduct us?” “He is blind also, replied
he; there hath been for this four hundred years, three
hundred blind persons in the house where you met with
me; but I must leave you, there is the street you asked
for; I must join the crowd to go into that church, where
I dare swear I shall be a greater obstruction to others
than they to me.”
Paris, the 17th of
the moon Chalval, 1712.
LETTER XXXIII.
Usbek to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
AT Paris,
wine is so extremely dear, on account of the duties laid
on it, that it seems as if it was designed to fulfil the
commands of the divine Koran, which prohibits the
drinking of it. When I think upon the melancholy, fatal
effects of this liquor, I cannot avoid considering it as
the most dreadful present that nature hath made to
mankind. If any thing ever disgraced the lives and
characters of our monarchs, it hath been their
intemperance; it hath been the most empoisoned spring
from whence have issued all their injustice and cruelty.
I must needs say, to the disgrace of these men, the law
prohibits our princes the use of wine, and yet they
drink it to an excess that degrades them of humanity;
this custom, on the contrary, is indulged to the
Christian princes, and never observed to lead them into
any crime. The mind of man is a contradiction to itself.
During a licentious debauch they transgress the
precepts, and the law made to render us just, serves
only to render us more culpable. Yet when I disapprove
of the use of this liquor, which destroys our reason, I
do not at the same time condemn those beverages which
exhilerate the mind. The Orientals are so wise, as to
inquire after remedies against melancholy, with the same
solicitude as for more dangerous disorders. When any
misfortune happens to an European, he hath no other
resource but to read a philosopher called Seneca: but
the Asiatics, more sensible than they, and in this case
better naturalists, drink a liquor capable of chearing
the heart, and of charming away the remembrance of its
sufferings. There is nothing so distressing as the
consolations drawn from the necessity of evil, the
inefficacy of medicines, the irreversibleness of
fatality, the decrees of providence
, and the miserable condition of humanity. It is mockery
to attempt to soften evils by the consideration, that it
is the consequence of our being born; it is much better
to divert the mind from its reflections, and to treat
man as a being susceptible of sensation, rather than
reason. The soul united to a body is continually under
its tyrannical power. If the blood moves too slowly, if
the spirits are not sufficiently pure, if they are not
enough in quantity, we become dejected and melancholy;
but if we make use of such liquors that can change the
disposition of our bodies, our soul again becomes
capable of receiving pleasing ideas, and is sensible of
a secret pleasure in perceiving its machine recover, as
it were, its life and motion.
Paris, the 25th of
the moon Zilcade, 1713.
LETTER XXXIV.
Usbek to
Ibben, at
Smyrna.
THE women of
Persia are finer than those of France, but those of this
country are prettier. It is difficult not to love the
first, and not to be pleased with the latter; the one
are more delicate and modest, and the others more gay
and airy. What in Persia renders the blood so pure, is
the regular life the women observe, they neither game
nor sit up late, they drink no wine, and do not expose
themselves to the open air. It must be allowed that the
seraglio is better adapted for health than for pleasure;
it is a dull uniform kind of life, where every thing
turns upon subjection and duty; their very pleasures are
grave, and their pastimes solemn, and they seldom taste
them but as so many tokens of authority and dependence.
The men themselves in Persia are not so gay as the
French; there is not that freedom of mind, and that
appearance of content, which I meet with here in persons
of all estates and ranks. It is still worse in Turky,
where there are families in which from father to son,
not one of them ever laughed from the foundation of the
monarchy. The gravity of the Asiatics arises from the
little conversation there is among them, who never see
each other but when obliged by ceremony. Friendship,
that sweet engagement of the heart, which constitutes
here the pleasure of life, is there almost unknown. They
retire within their own house, where they constantly
find the same company; insomuch that each family may be
considered as living in an island detached from all
others. Discoursing one time on this subject with a
person of this country, he said to me, that which gives
me most offence among all your customs is the necessity
you are under of living with slaves, whose minds and
inclinations always savour of the meanness of their
condition. Those sentiments of virtue which you have in
you from nature are enfeebled and destroyed by these
base wretches who surround you from your infancy. For,
in short, divest yourself of prejudice, and what can you
expect from an education received from such a wretch,
who places his whole merit in being a jailer to the
wives of another man, and takes a pride in the vilest
employment in society? who is despicable for that very
fidelity which is his only virtue, to which he is
prompted by envy, jealousy, and despair? who, inflamed
with a desire of revenging himself on both sexes, of
which he is an out-cast, submitting to the tyranny of
the stronger sex, provided he may distress the weaker; a
wretch who, deriving from his imperfection, ugliness,
and deformity, the whole lustre of his condition, is
valued only because he is unworthy to be so; who, in
short, rivetted for ever to the gate where he is placed,
and harder than the hinges and bolts which secure it,
boasts of having spent a life of fifty years in so
ignoble a station, where, commissioned by his master’s
jealousy, he exercises all his cruelties.
Paris, the 14th of
the moon Zilhade, 1713.
LETTER XXXV.
Usbek to
Gimchid, his Cousin, Dervise
of the shining Monastery of Tauris.
WHAT dost thou
think, sublime dervise, of the Christians? Dost thou
believe, that at the day of judgment it will be with
them as with the unbelieving Turks, who will serve the
Jews for asses, and to carry them in a high trot to
hell? I well know that their abode will not be with the
prophets, and that the great Haly is not come for their
sakes. But dost thou believe they will be sentenced to
eternal punishment, because they have been so unhappy as
to find no mosques in their country? and that God will
punish them for not practising a religion that he never
made known to them? I can assure thee I have frequently
examined these Christians; I have questioned them, to
see if they had any idea of the great Haly, who was the
most excellent of mankind, and have found that they have
never so much as heard him mentioned. They are not like
those infidels whom our holy prophet put to the sword,
for refusing to believe in the miracles of heaven; but
rather like those unhappy people who lived under the
darkness of idolatry, before the divine light
illuminated the face of our great prophet. Again, if you
search their religion closely, you will find some seeds
of our doctrines. I have often admired the secret
dispositions of providence, which seems thereby willing
to prepare them for a general conversion. I have heard
speak of a book of their doctors called Polygamy
Triumphant, in which is proved, that polygamy is
enjoined to Christians. Their baptism is an emblem of
our legal washings; and the Christians only mistake in
the efficacy that they ascribe to this primary ablution,
which they believe sufficient for every other. Their
priests and monks, like us, pray seven times a day. They
hope to enjoy a paradise, where they shall taste a
thousand delights, by the means of the resurrection of
their bodies. They have, as well as we, set fasts, and
mortifications, by which they hope to incline the divine
mercy. They worship good angels, and fear the evil. They
pay a holy credulity to the miracles which God works by
the ministry of his servants. They acknowledge, as we
do, the insufficiency of their own merits, and the need
they have of an intercessor with God. I see Mahometism
throughout the whole, though I do not there find
Mahomet. Do all we can, truth will prevail and shine
through the cloud that surrounds it. A day will come,
when the Eternal will see none upon earth but true
believers. Time, which consumes all things, will destroy
even errors themselves. All mankind will be astonished
to find themselves under the same standard. All things,
even to the law itself, shall be done away; the divine
examplers will be taken up from the earth, and carried
to the celestial archives.
Paris, the 20th of
the moon Zilhage, 1713.
LETTER XXXVI.
Usbek to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
COFFEE is very
much used at Paris; here are a great many public houses
where they sell it. In some of these houses they talk of
news, in others they play at draughts. There is one
where they prepare the coffee in such a manner, that it
inspires the drinkers of it with wit; at least, of all
those who frequent it, there is not one person in four
who does not think he has more wit after he has entered
that house. But what offends me in these wits is, that
they do not make themselves useful to their country, and
that they trifle away their talents on childish things.
For instance, at my arrival in Paris, I found them very
warm about the most trifling controversy imaginable;
they were disputing about the character of an old Greek
poet, of whose country, and the time of his death, they
have been ignorant these two thousand years. Both
parties allowed he was an excellent poet; the question
was only whether he had more or less merit ascribed to
him than he deserved. Each was for settling the value,
but amidst these distributers of reputation, some made
better weight than others; such was the quarrel. It has
been very fierce, for they so heartily abused each
other, and were so bitter in their raillery, that I did
not less admire the manner of their dispute, than the
subject of it. If any one, said I to myself, should be
giddy-headed enough in the company of these defenders of
this Greek poet, to attack the reputation of an honest
citizen, he would be but badly received! and surely this
zeal, so delicate for the reputation of the dead, would
be inflamed in defence of that of the living! But
however that may be, added I, may I ever be defended
from the censors or this poet, whose abode of two
thousand years in the grave has not defended him from so
implacable an hatred; they now do but beat the air, but
how would it be, if their fury was animated by the
presence of an enemy? These I have been speaking of,
dispute in the vulgar tongue, and must be distinguished
from another kind of disputants, who make use of a
barbarous language, which seems to augment the fury and
obstinacy of the combatants. There are particular
quarters of the town where these people engage as in a
battle, night and day; they, as it were, feed themselves
with distinctions, and live upon obscure reasonings, and
false consequences. This trade, by which it should seem
no bread could be got, yet does not fail answering. A
whole nation, expelled their own country, hath been seen
to pass the seas, to settle in France, bringing nothing
with them to ward off the necessities of life, but a
formidable talent for disputation. Farewel.
Paris, the last day
of the moon of Zilhage, 1713.
LETTER XXXVII.
Usbek to
Ibben, at
Smyrna.
THE king of
France is old; we have not one instance in our history,
of a monarch who reigned so long. He is said to possess
to a very great degree the art of making himself obeyed;
he governs with the same spirit, his family, his court,
and his kingdom; he hath often been heard to say, that
of all the governments in the world, that of the Turks,
or of our august Sultan, pleased him best; so highly
does he esteem the politics of the East! I have studied
his character, and have discovered in it contradictions
impossible for me to solve: for example, he hath a
minister who is not above eighteen years old, and a
mistress turned of fourscore; he loves his religion, and
yet cannot bear those who say it ought to be rigorously
observed; though he avoids the tumult of cities, and is
little communicative, yet he is busy from morning to
evening, what he may do to be talked of; he is very fond
of trophies and victories, but he fears as much to see a
good general at the head of his troops as he would have
cause to do one at the head of his enemies troops. It
never happened, I believe, but to himself, to be at the
same time loaded with more riches than a prince could
wish to be, and to be oppressed with a poverty that a
private person could not be able to sustain. He loves to
reward those who serve him; but he rewards as liberally
the assiduity, or rather the idleness of his courtiers,
as the laborious campaigns of his generals. He
oftentimes prefers a man who undresses him, or gives him
a napkin when he sits down to table, preferable to
another who takes cities, or gains battles for him; he
does not think that the grandeur of a sovereign ought to
be restrained in the distribution of favours, and
without examining whether the man he loads with his
favours hath real merit, he thinks his choice capable of
rendering him such; accordingly he hath been known to
bestow a small pension on a man who run away two leagues
from the enemy, and a good government to another who run
twice that length. He is magnificent above all in his
buildings; he has more statues in his palace-gardens
than there are inhabitants in a great city. His guard is
as strong as that of the prince before whom all other
thrones are debased; his armies are equally numerous,
his resources as many, and his finances as
inexhaustible.
Paris, the 7th of
the moon Maharan, 1713.
LETTER XXXVIII.
Rica to
Ibben, at Smyrna.
WHETHER it is
better to deprive women of their liberty, or to permit
it them? is a great question among men; it appears to me
that there are good reasons for and against this
practice. If the Europeans urge that there is a want of
generosity in rendering those persons miserable whom we
love: our Asiatics answer, that it is meanness in men to
renounce the empire which nature has given them over
women. If they are told that a great number of women,
shut up, are troublesome, they reply, that ten women in
subjection are less troublesome than one who is
refractory. But they object in their turn, that the
Europeans cannot be happy with women who are faithless
to them; they reply, that this fidelity, of which they
boast so much, does not hinder that disgust, which
always follows the gratification of the passions; that
our women are too much ours; that a possession so easily
obtained, leaves nothing to be wished or feared; that a
little coquetry provokes desire, and prevents disgust.
Perhaps a man wiser than myself would be puzzled to
decide this question; for if the Asiatics do very well
to find out proper means to calm their uneasiness, the
Europeans also do as well to have uneasiness. After all,
say they, though we should be unhappy as husbands, we
should always find means to recompence ourselves as
lovers. For that a man might have reason to complain of
the infidelity of his wife, it must be that there should
be but three persons in the world, they will always be
at even hands when there are four. Another question
among the learned is, Whether the law of nature subjects
the women to the men? No, said a gallant philosopher to
me the other day, nature rever dictated such a law. The
empire we have over them is real tyranny, which they
only suffer us to assume, because they have more good
nature than we, and in consequence more humanity and
reason. These advantages, which ought to have given them
the superiority, had we acted reasonably, have made them
lose it, because we have not the same advantages. But if
it is true that the power we have over women is only
tyrannical, it is no less so that they have over us a
natural empire, that of beauty, which nothing can
resist. Our power extends not to all countries, but that
of beauty is universal. Wherefore then do we hear of
this privilege? Is it because we are the strongest? But
this is really injustice. We employ every kind of means
to reduce their spirits. Their abilities would be equal
with ours, if their education was the same. Let us
examine them in those talents which education hath not
enfeebled, and we shall see if ours are as great. It
must be acknowledged, though it is contrary to our
custom, that among the most polite people, the women
have always had the authority over their husbands; it
was established among the Egyptians, in honour of Isis,
and among the Babylonians, in honour of Semiramis. It is
said of the Romans, that they commanded all nations, but
obeyed their wives. I say nothing of the Sauromates, who
were in perfect slavery to the sex, they were too
barbarous to be brought for an example. Thou seest, my
dear Ibben, that I have contracted the fashion of this
country, where they are found of defending extraordinary
opinions, and reducing every thing to a paradox. The
prophet hath determined the question, and settled the
rights of each sex; the women, says he, must honour
their husbands, and the men their wives; but the
husbands are allowed one degree of honour more.
Paris, the 26th of
the moon of the 2d Gemmadi, 1713.
LETTER XXXIX.
HagiIbbi
to the Jew Ben-Joshua, a
Mahometan Proselyte, at Smyrna.
IT appears to
me, Ben-Joshua, that there are always some amazing
prodigies preparative to the birth of extraordinary
persons, as if nature suffered a kind of crisis, and the
celestial power could not bring forth without a
struggle. There is nothing of this kind so marvellous as
the birth of Mahomet. God, who had determined by the
decrees of his providence from the beginning, to send to
mankind this great prophet, to chain up Satan, created a
light four thousand years before Adam, which descending
from elect to elect, from ancestor to ancestor of
Mahomet, descended at length to him, as an authentic
testimony, of his descent from the patriarchs. For the
sake of this very prophet it was, that God decreed that
no child should be conceived, but the woman should cease
to be unclean, and the man should be circumcised. He was
born circumcised, and joy smiled on his face from his
birth; thrice the earth trembled as if she herself had
brought forth; all the idols prostrated themselves, and
the thrones of kings were overturned; Lucifer was cast
down into the bottom of the sea, and it was not till
after forty days, that he immersed from the abyss, and
fled to Mount Cabes, from whence, with a terrible voice,
he called upon the angels. This same night God fixed a
bound between the man and woman, which neither of them
can pass. The art of the magicians and necromancers
failed; a voice was heard from heaven speaking these
words: “I have sent into the world my faithful friend.”
According to the testimony of Isben Aben, an Arabian
historian, the generation of birds, clouds, winds, and
all the host of angels met together to bring up this
child, and disputed the preference. The birds, in their
warbling, said they were best fitted to educate him,
because they could more easily collect together the
several fruits from different parts. The winds murmured,
and said, it is rather us, because we can convey to him
from all places the most delightful odours. No, no, said
the clouds, no; it is to us the care of him ought to be
consigned, for we will continually bear to him the
coolness of the waters. From above the angels,
indignant, cried out, what will there remain for us to
do? But a voice from heaven was heard, which determined
all disputes; he shall not be removed out of the hands
of mortals, because happy are the breasts that shall
give him suck, the hands that shall hold him, and the
bed on which he shall rest! after so many striking
evidences, my dear Joshua, the heart of man must be
steeled not to believe his holy law. What could heaven
do more to authorize his divine mission, unless nature
itself had been overturned, and all mankind had been
destroyed whose conviction it designed?
Paris, the 20th of
the moon Rhegeb, 1713.
LETTER XL.
Usbek to
Ibben, at
Smyrna.
ON the death of
a great man they assemble in a mosque to pronounce his
funeral oration, which is a discourse in praise of him;
from which it is very difficult to determine justly the
merit of the deceased. I would abolish these funeral
pomps. The birth, not the death of men should be
mourned. To what end do these ceremonies serve, and all
their mournful show to a dying man in his last moments?
even the tears of his family, and the grief of his
friends, do but exaggerate to him the loss he is about
to sustain. We are so blind, that we know not how to
time our sorrow nor our joy; we have scarcely ever any
but false joys and false sorrows. When I see the Mogul,
who every year goes to weigh himself in a balance, to be
weighed like an ox; when I see the people rejoice that
their prince is become more gross, that is, less fit to
govern them, I have pity, Ibben, on human extravagance.
Paris, the 20th of
the moon Rhegeb, 1713.
LETTER XLI.
The Chief black
Eunuch to Usbek.
ISMAEL, one of
thy black eunuchs, magnificent lord, is just dead, and I
was unwilling to neglect filling up his place; but as
eunuchs are extremely scarce at present, I intended
making use of a black slave that thou hast in the
country; but I have not as yet been able to bring him to
submit to be initiated into this office. As I considered
that this was really for his good, I was willing the
other day to use a little violence, and with the
assistance of the intendant of thy gardens, I ordered,
against his will, that he should be put into a state
capable of rendering thee those services most pleasing
to thy heart, and to live, as I do, within this
formidable palace, which he dares not even to look at;
but he fell a-roaring as if he was going to be skinned,
and struggled so that he got out of our hands, and
escaped the fatal knife. I have just now been informed
that he intends writing to thee, to ask thy favour,
affirming that I formed this design only from an
insatiable desire to be revenged for some sharp
railleries of his against me. However, I swear to thee
by the hundred thousand prophets, that I acted only for
the good of thy service, the only thing dear to me, and
beyond which there is nothing that I regard. I prostrate
myself at thy feet.
From the seraglio
at Fatme, the 7th of the moon Maharran, 1713.
LETTER XLII.
Pharan to
Usbek, his Sovereign Lord.
IF thou wert
here, magnificent lord, I should appear before thee
covered all over with white paper, and that would not be
sufficient to write all the abuses which thy chief black
eunuch, the wickedest of all men, hath exercised towards
me since thy departure. On account of some jokes which
he pretends. I made on his miserable condition, he hath
incensed the cruel intendant of thy gardens against me,
who, since thy departure hath imposed upon me the most
intolerable labours, under which I have a thousand times
thought I should lose my life, without abating for a
moment of my zeal for thy service. How many times have I
said to myself, I have a master full of goodness, and
yet am I the most unhappy slave upon earth! I confess to
thee, magnificent lord, I did not believe myself
destined to greater miseries, but this traitor of an
eunuch was willing to fill up the measure of his
wickedness. Some days ago, of his own authority, he
determined that I should guard thy sacred women, that
is, that I should suffer an execution, which to me would
be a thousand times more severe than death. Those who
have had the unhappiness to suffer such kind of
treatment from their cruel parents, at their birth, have
this to comfort them, that they never knew a different
state; but for me to be degraded, and deprived of
manhood, I should die with grief, if I did not of the
barbarity itself. I embrace thy feet, sublime lord, in
the most profound humility. Grant that I may experience
the effects of thy virtue, so highly respected, and that
it may not be said, there is upon earth one unhappy man
the more by thy order.
From the gardens of
Fatme, the 7th of the moon Maharran, 1713.
LETTER XLIII.
Usbek to
Pharan, at the Gardens of
Fatme.
LET thy heart
receive joy, and reverence these sacred characters; let
the chief eunuch and the intendant of my gardens kiss
them. I forbid their attempting any thing against thee;
tell them to buy the eunuch I want. Do you discharge
your duty, as though I was always present with thee; for
know that the greater my kindness is, if thou abusest
it, the greater shall be thy punishment.
Paris, the 25th of
the moon Rhegeb, 1713.
LETTER XLIV.
Usbek to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
IN France there
are three kinds of professions; the church, the sword,
and the long robe. Each hath a sovereign contempt for
the other two: for example, a man who ought to be
despised only for being a fool, is often so because he
is a lawyer. There are none, even to the meanest
mechanic, who does not contend for the excellency of the
trade they have chosen; each values himself above him
who is of a different profession, according to the idea
he has formed to himself of the superiority of his own.
These men are, more or less, like that woman in the
province of Erivan, who having received a favour from
one of our monarchs, wished a thousand times, in the
blessings she bestowed upon him, that heaven would make
him governor of Erivan. I have read, that a French ship
putting in upon the coast of Guinea, some of the crew
went on shore to buy sheep. They were carried to the
king, who administered justice to his subjects under a
tree. He was seated on a throne, that is to say, a piece
of timber, as stately as though he had sat upon the
throne of the Great Mogul, attended by three or four
guards armed with hedge stakes; an umbrella in the form
of a canopy, secured him from the heat of the sun; his
whole regalia, and that of the queen his wife, consisted
in their black skins and some rings. This prince, yet
more vain than miserable, asked these strangers if he
was not much talked of in France. He imagined that his
name could not but have reached from pole to pole; and
different from that conqueror of whom it is said, that
he had silenced the whole earth, he fancied that the
whole world must talk of him. When the Cham of Tartary
hath dined, a herald proclaims, that all the princes of
the earth may go to dinner, if they please: and this
barbarian who feeds only upon milk, who hath no house to
dwell in, and who lives only by murder and robbery,
regards all the potentates in the world as his slaves,
and formally insults them twice a-day.
Paris, the 28th of
the moon Rhegeb, 1713.
LETTER XLV.
Rica to
Usbek, at * * *.
AS I was in bed,
yesterday morning, I heard a violent rapping at my door,
which was soon opened, or rather sorced open, by a man
with whom I had made some acquaintance, and who seemed
to me to be beside himself. His dress was far from being
decent, his peruke, all awry, had not been so much as
combed; he had not had leisure to get his black
waistcoat mended; and, for this time, had neglected
those wise precautions with which he was used to conceal
the tattered condition of his dress. “Get up, says he to
me, I have business with you all day; I have a thousand
implements to buy, and should be glad to have you with
me. We must go first to the street St. Honoré, to speak
to a notary, who is commissioned to sell an estate of
five hundred thousand livres, and I am willing he should
give me the preference. As I came here, I stopt a moment
in the suburbs of St. Germain, where I have hired a
house for two thousand crowns, and hope to execute the
contract to-day.” As soon as I was drest, or pretty near
so, my gentleman made me hastily go out with him. “Let
us, said he, first buy a coach, and settle our
equipage.” Indeed we bought not only the coach, but also
an hundred thousand livres worth of goods, in less than
an hour; all this was done presently, for my gentleman
haggled about nothing, paid no money, nor was he ever
out of his way. I reflected upon all this, and when I
examined my gentleman, I found in him so strange a
mixture of riches and poverty, that I knew not what to
think. But at last I broke, silence, and taking him on
one side, I said to him, “Sir, who is to pay for all
these things?” “Myself, says he; come to my chamber, I
will shew you immense treasures, and riches that might
excite the envy of the greatest monarchs, but not yours,
who shall always share them with me.” I followed him; we
clambered up to his fifth floor, and by a ladder hoisted
ourselves to the sixth, which was a closet, open to the
four winds, in which there was nothing but two or three
dozen of earthen basons, filled with different liquors.
“I got up early, says he, and, as I have done these five
and twenty years, went immediately to visit my work; I
saw that the great day was come which was to render me
the richest man upon earth. Do you see this fine red
liquor? It hath now all those qualities which the
philosophers require to make a transmutation of metals.
I have gathered these grains which you see, which are
true gold by their colour, though a little imperfect as
to their weight. This secret, which Nichola’s Flammel
found out, but Raymond Lully, and a million of others,
have been always seeking after, is at length come to me,
and I this day find myself an happy adept. May heaven
grant that I may never make use of the treasures it hath
bestowed upon me but to its glory!” I left him, and
came, or rather tumbled down the ladder, transported
with anger, and left this very rich man in his
hospital.—Farewel, my dear Usbek, I will come and see
you to morrow, and if you please we will return together
to Paris.
Paris, the last day
of the moon Rhegeb, 1715.
LETTER XLVI.
Usbek to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
I MEET
here with people who are continually disputing about
religion; but it seems as if they contended at the same
time who should least observe it. But they are neither
better Christians, nor even better citizens; and this is
what hurts me: for whatever religion we profess, the
observation of the laws, the love of mankind, duty to
our parents, are ever the principal duties of it. And
indeed, ought not the first object of a religious man to
be, to please the deity who hath established the
religion he professes? But the surest way to do so is,
without doubt, to obey the laws of society, and to
discharge the duties of humanity; for whatever religion
a man professes, the moment any religion is supposed, it
must also necessarily be supposed, that God loves
mankind, since he establishes a religion to render them
happy: that if he loves men, we are certain of pleasing
him in loving them also; that is, in exercising toward
them all the duties of charity and humanity, and not
breaking the laws under which they live. By these means
we are much surer of pleasing God, than by observing
such and such a ceremony; for ceremonies in themselves
have no degree of goodness, they are only relatively
good, and upon a supposition that God hath commanded the
observance of them. But this is a nice point to discuss,
about which we may easily be deceived; for the
ceremonies of one religion must be chose from among
those of two thousand. A certain man daily offered up to
God this prayer:—Lord, I understand none of those
disputes which are continually made concerning thee: I
would serve thee according to thy will, but every person
I consult would have me do so according to his will.
When I would pray to thee, I know not what language I
should use; nor do I know in what posture I ought to put
myself; one says I ought to pray standing, another that
I should sit, and a third requires me to kneel. This is
not all: there are those who pretend that I ought to
wash myself every morning with cold water: others
maintain, that thou wilt regard me with abhorrence, if I
do not cut off a small piece of my flesh. The other day
I happened to eat, at a caravansary, a rabbit: three men
who were present made me tremble; they all three
maintained that I had grievously offended thee: one
, because this was an unclean animal; the other
, because it was strangled, and the third
, because it was not fish. A Brachman who was passing
by, whom I desired to judge between us, says to me, they
are all wrong, for certainly you yourself did not kill
the creature: but I did, said I: ah! then you have
committed an abominable action, and God will never
forgive you, says he to me in a severe tone: how do you
know that the soul of your father hath not passed into
this animal? All these things, Lord, greatly embarass
me; I cannot move my head that I am not threatened with
having offended thee: though all the while I desire to
please thee, and to that end to employ the life I hold
from thee. I know not whether I deceive myself; but I
believe the best way to please thee is, to be a good
citizen in the community thou hast made me to live in,
and a good father of the family which thou hast given
me.
Paris, the 8th of
the moon Chahban, 1713.
LETTER XLVII.
Zachi to
Usbek, at
Paris.
I HAVE
great news to communicate to you; I am reconciled to
Zephis; the feraglio that was divided between us is
reunited. There is nothing wanting in this place, where
peace reigns, but thee: come then, my dear Usbek return,
and make love triumph here. I gave Zephis a grand
entertainment, to which thy mother, wives, and principal
concubines, were invited; there were also thy aunts, and
several of thy female cousins; they came on horseback,
covered with the dark cloud of their veils and habits.
The next day we set out for the country, where we hoped
to be more at liberty: we mounted our camels, and went
four and four under a covering. As it was a party
suddenly made, we had not time to send round the
neighbourhood to publish the Courouc
: but the chief eunuch, ever attentive to his duty, took
another precaution, for he added to the cloth which
covered us so thick a curtain, that we could really see
nobody. When we arrived at the river, which we were to
cross, we each of us, according to custom, placed
ourselves in a box, for we were informed there were a
great many people on the river. One more curious than
the rest, who approached too near to where we were shut
up, received a mortal blow, which for ever deprived him
of the light of the day; another who was bathing himself
quite naked near the shore, suffered the same fate! and
thy faithful eunuchs sacrificed to thine and our honour,
these two unhappy creatures. But attend to the rest of
our adventures; we had scarcely reached the middle of
the river, when so violent a wind arose, and so
frightful a cloud covered the sky, that the sailors
began to despair. Affrightened at this danger, we almost
all of us swooned away. I remember I heard our eunuchs
talking and disputing, some of whom said we ought to be
acquainted with our danger, and released from our
confinement; but their chief constantly maintained that
he would rather perish than let his master be so
dishonoured, and that he would force a dagger into his
breast who should make such a bold proposal. One of my
slaves, out of her wits, came running to my assistance,
all undrest; but a black eunuch brutishly forced her
back to the place she came from. I then swooned away,
and did not come to myself until the danger was over.
How dangerous are journies to women! men are exposed to
no dangers but such as threaten their lives; but we are
every instant in fear of losing our lives, or our
virtue. Adieu, my dear Usbek; I shall adore thee always.
From the seraglio
at Fatme, the 2d of the moon Rhamazan, 1713.
LETTER XLVIII.
Usbek
to Rhedi, at
Venice.
THEY who love to
inform themselves, are never idle. Though I have no
business of consequence to take care of, I am
nevertheless continually employed. I spend my life in
examining things: I write down in the evening whatever I
have remarked, what I have seen, and what I have heard
in the day: every thing engages my attention, and every
thing excites my wonder: I am like an infant, whose
organs, as yet tender, are strongly affected by the
slightest objects. Perhaps you will not believe we are
agreeably received into all companies, and into all
kinds of societies. I believe much of this is owing to
the sprightliness and natural gaiety of Rica, which
leads him to search through the whole world, and makes
him equally searched after. Our foreign air no longer
offends any body; we even take pleasure at the surprise
our politeness occasions; for the French do not imagine
that our climate produces men, yet it must be confessed,
they are worthy the trouble of convincing them. I have
passed some days at a country house near Paris, with a
man of some consequence, who delighted in having company
with him. He hath a very lovely wife, who hath, joined
to a great share of modesty, a liveliness which the
constant retired life of our Persian ladies deprives
them of. As I was a stranger I had nothing better to
employ me, than to observe the company who were
continually coming there, and always affording me
something new. I observed at first a man, whose
simplicity pleased me, I attached myself to him, and he
to me, insomuch that we were continually together. As we
were one day conversing together, amidst a large circle,
leaving the general conversation to themselves: “You
find perhaps in me, said I to him, more curiosity than
politeness, but pray allow me to ask you some questions;
for I am tired with doing nothing, and of living among
people, among whom I cannot mix. My mind hath been at
work above these two days: there is not one of these men
here, who hath not put me to the torture above two
hundred times; and I should not be able to comprehend
these people in a thousand years; they are more
invisible to me than the wives of our great monarch.”
“You have only to ask, said he to me, and I will
acquaint you with all you wish to know, and the more
willingly, because I believe you are a discreet man, and
that you will not abuse my confidence.” “Who is that
man, said I to him, who talks so much to us of the great
entertainments he has given to great men, who is so
familiar with your dukes, and who converses so
frequently with your ministers, who I am informed are
difficult of access? He certainly must be a man of
quality; but his aspect is so mean, that he does not
much honour to men of that rank; and besides I do not
find he has any education. I am a foreigner, but it
seems to me, that there is in general a certain
politeness common to every nation; I find none of this
in him: is it that your men of quality are worse
educated than other men?” “This man, answered he
laughing, is a farmer of the king’s revenues, he is as
much above others in riches, as he is below all the
world in birth. He would have the best table in Paris,
could he persuade himself never to dine at home; he is
very impertinent, as you see, but he excels in a cook,
nor is he very ungrateful, for you have heard how he has
praised him all day.” “And who is that big man in black,
said I to him, who the lady hath placed next herself?
how comes he to wear so grave a dress, with so gay an
air, and so florid a countenance? He smiles graciously
at every thing said to him, his apparel is more modest,
but more formal, than that of your women.” “He is a
preacher, and what is worse, a director. Notwithstanding
his looks, he knows more than the husbands; he knows the
weak side of the women, and they also know that he hath
his weak side too.” “How, says I, he is always talking
of something which he calls grace?” “No; not always,
replied he; at the ear of a pretty woman he talks more
freely of the fall of man; he thunders in public, but in
private he is as gentle as a lamb.” “It seems to me,
says I, that he is greatly distinguished, and highly
respected. How comes it that he is so distinguished?”
“He is a necessary man; he sweetens a retired life,
petty councils, officious cares, set visits; he removes
the head-ach better than any man in the world; he is
excellent.” “But if I am not too troublesome to you,
tell me who is that man over against us, so badly
dressed, who makes so many faces, and speaks a language
different from the rest, who hath not wit enough to
talk, but talks that he may have wit? “He is a poet,
replied he, a grotesque figure of the human kind. These
kind of creatures, they say, are born what they are; it
is true, and no less so that they will continue the same
all their lives, that is to say, for the general part
the most ridiculous of mankind; accordingly nobody
spares them; contempt is liberally poured on them by
all. Hunger hath driven him to this house, and he is
here well received by both the master and mistress of
the house, whose good nature and politeness do not
permit them to descend to personal prejudices. He wrote
an epithalamium when they were married, it is the best
thing he ever did; for the marriage hath proved as happy
as he predicted it would be. You will perhaps not
believe, added he, possessed as you are of oriental
prejudices, that there are among us happy marriages, and
women whose virtue is their strict guard. The couple we
are talking of enjoy an uninterrupted peace; they are
beloved and esteemed by all the world. There is but one
thing amiss; their good-nature makes them admit all
kinds of people, which occasions their having bad
company. Not that I dislike them, we must live with
people as we find them; those who are called good
company, are often such whose vices are more refined;
and perhaps it is as with poisons, of which the most
subtle are the most dangerous.” “And who is this old
man, said I to him softly, who looks so morose? I took
him at first for a foreigner; for besides that he is
dressed different from the rest, he censures every thing
done in France, and disapproves of your government.” “He
is an old warrior, said he, who makes himself memorable
to all his auditors, by the tedious relation of his
exploits. He will not allow France hath gained any
battle at which he was not present, or that any siege
should be boasted of where he did not mount the
trenches. He fancies himself of so much importance to
our history, that he imagines it ended where he
concluded his actions; he looks upon some wounds he
received, as he would upon the dissolution of the
monarchy; and different to those philosophers, who say
that we enjoy only the present time, and that the past
is nothing, he, on the contrary, enjoys only the past,
and exists not but in the campaigns he hath made: he
breathes in the times that are passed away, as heroes
ought to live in those which are to come.” “But why,
said I, did he quit the service?” “He did not quit it,
replied he, but it quitted him; he is employed in a
little garrison, where he will recount his adventures
the remainder of his life, but he will get no further;
the road of honour is shut up from him.” “And why? said
I:” “We have a maxim in France, replied he, never to
promote officers whose patience hath languished in
subaltern offices; we regard them as persons whose
understandings are straitened by a narrow sphere of
action; and who, accustomed to little things, are become
incapable of greater. We think that a man who at thirty
hath not the qualifications of a general, will never
have them; that he who has not that cast of eye, as to
shew him at once a tract of several leagues in all its
various situations, that presence of mind which enables
him to improve all the advantages of a victory, and, in
a defeat, to help himself by every possible resource,
will never acquire these talents. Therefore we have high
employments for great and elevated persons, to whom
heaven has not only given the heart, but also the genius
of heroism; and inferior stations for those whose
talents are also inferior. Of this class are those who
are grown old in an obscure warfare: at best they
succeed only in doing what they have done all their
lives; and we ought not to begin loading them at a time
when they begin to be enfeebled.” A moment afterwards
the spirit of curiosity re-seized me, and I said to him,
“I promise to ask no further questions, if you will
allow of this one more. Who is that big young man in his
own hair, with so little wit, and so much impertinence?
How comes he to talk louder than the rest, and seem so
pleased that he is alive?” “He is a man of good fortune,
replied he.”—As he said this, some company came in,
others went away, and all got up; somebody came to speak
to my companion, and I remained as ignorant as before.
But a moment afterwards this young man happened to sit
by me, and began talking to me: “It is fine weather,
Sir, will you take a turn in the garden?” I answered him
as civilly as possible, and we went out together. “I am
come into the country to please the mistress of this
house, with whom I am upon no bad terms. There is a
certain woman in the world who will not be in the best
humour; but what can be done? I visit the handsomest
women in Paris; but I do not confine myself to one, and
they have need to look sharp after me; for, between you
and I, I am a sad fellow.” “Probably then, Sir, said I,
you have some post, or employment, that prevents you
from attending them more constantly.” “No, Sir, I have
nothing else to do but to provoke an husband, or drive a
father to despair: I love to alarm a woman who thinks
she is secure of me, and reduce her within a finger’s
breadth of losing me. Here is a set of us young fellows
who in this manner divide all Paris, and make it take
notice of the least step we take.” “By what I learn from
you, said I, you make a greater noise than the most
valiant warrior, and are more observed than a grave
magistrate. You would not enjoy all these advantages if
you were in Persia; you would be thought fitter to guard
our women than to give them pleasure.” I began to grow
warm, and I believe if I had talked a little more, I
could not have helped affronting him.—What sayest thou
of a country where these kind of wretches are tolerated,
and where they suffer a man to live who employs himself
in such a manner? Where infidelity, treason, rapes,
persidy and injustice, conduce to render a man
considerable. Where a man shall be esteemed because he
has stole away a man’s daughter, or a wife from her
husband, and troubled the happiest and most sacred
societies? Happy the children of Hali, who protect their
families from infamy and debauchery! The light of the
day is not more pure than the fire which warms the
hearts of our women; our daughters think not, without
trembling, of the day that is to deprive them of that
virtue which renders them like angels and incorporeal
powers. O my dear native country, whom the sun honours
with his first regards, thou art unsullied by those
horrible crimes, which obliges this luminary to hide
himself as soon as he approaches the black west!
Paris, the 5th of
the moon of Rhamazan, 1713.
LETTER XLIX.
Rica to
Usbek, at * * *.
AS I was in my
chamber the other day, in came a dervise very strangely
dressed. His beard reached quite down to his hempen
girdle; he was barefooted, his habit grey, coarse, and
in some parts folded into points. The whole of him
appeared so odd to me, that I thought at first of
sending for a painter to draw a sketch of him. He
addressed me with a long compliment, in which he
acquainted me, that he was a person of merit, and also a
capuchin. “I am informed, Sir, added he, that you are to
return shortly to the court of Persia, where you possess
a distinguished rank. I come to ask your protection, and
to desire you to obtain for us a small settlement near
Casbin, for two or three religious.” “My father, said I,
will you go then to Persia?” “I, Sir! cried he; I shall
take better care of myself; I am provincial here, and
would not change my condition for that of all the
capuchins in the world.” “What in the name of wonder
then do you want of me?” “Why, replied he, if we had
this settlement, our fathers of Italy would send thither
two or three monks.” “You then certainly know these
monks, said I.” “No, Sir, I do not know them.” “My
stars! what then will their going into Persia signify to
you? It is a wondrous fine project indeed, for two
capuchins to breathe the air of Casbin! it will be of
extreme advantage to Europe, and to Asia! and highly
necessary to interest monarchs about it! indeed they are
what are called noble colonies! Begone! you and your
fellows are not made for transplantation; and you will
do much better to remain crawling about the places where
ye were first ingendered.”
Paris, the 15th of
the moon Rhamazan, 1713.
LETTER L.
Rica to
* * *.
I HAVE known
some people to whom virtue was so natural, that they
themselves were scarcely sensible of it. They have
applied themselves to their duty without any constraint,
and been carried to it as by instinct; far from raising
in their conversation, an opinion of their own great
qualities; it is as if they themselves were insensible
of them. Such are the men I love, not those virtuous
persons who themselves seem so surprised at their being
so, and who consider a good action as a prodigy, the
report of which ought to astonish every body. If modesty
is a virtue necessary to those whom heaven hath endowed
with the greatest talents, what must be said of those
insects who dare to shew a pride capable of dishonouring
the greatest men? I every where meet with people whose
conversation is continually about themselves; their
discourse is a mirror which always presents their own
impertinent figure; they will talk of the most trifling
things which have happened to themselves, and think
their interest in them must make them of consequence in
your sight; they have done every thing, seen every
thing, thought every thing; they are an universal model;
an inexhaustible subject of comparison, a spring of
examples never to be dried up. Oh how despicable is
praise, when it bounds back from whence it comes! A man
of this character some days ago overwhelmed us for two
hours, with himself, his merit, and his talents; but as
there is no perpetual motion in the world, he stopt at
last. The conversation then came to us, and we took
possession of it. One who seemed to be a little
splenetic, began by complaining of the wearisomeness
some people occasioned in conversation. What! fools for
ever, who give their own characters, and bring every
thing home to themselves! “Your observation is just,
replied our talker abruptly, there is nobody acts as I
do; I never praise myself; I have riches, and am
well-born; I spend freely; my friends say I have some
wit, but I never talk of all this; if I have some good
qualities, that which I make the most account of is my
modesty.” I greatly wondered at this impertinent; and
while he was talking very loud, I said very low: happy
the man who hath vanity enough never to speak well of
himself; who is in awe of those who hear him; and never
opposes his merit to the pride of others!
Paris, the 20th of
the moon Rhamazan, 1713.
LETTER LI.
Nargum the
Persian Envoy residing at
Muscovy, to
Usbek at
Paris.
THEY write
to me from Ispahan, that thou hast quitted Persia, and
art now actually at Paris. Why must I learn news of thee
from others, and not from thyself? The command of the
king of kings hath detained me in this country these
five years, where I have concluded several important
commissions. Thou knowest that the Czar is the only
Christian prince whose interests are mingled with those
of Persia, because he is an enemy to the Turks as well
as we. His empire is greater than that of ours; for it
is computed to be a thousand leagues from Moscow to the
utmost limits of his territories, on the side of China.
He is absolute master of the lives and effects of his
subjects, who are all slaves, four families excepted.
The lieutenant of the prophets, the king of kings, does
not use his power more dreadfully. To see the horrible
climate of Muscovy, none would ever think it a
punishment to be exiled; nevertheless when a great man
is disgraced, he is banished to Siberia. As the law of
our prophet forbids us to drink wine, that of this
prince prohibits the Muscovites the use of it. They have
a custom of receiving their guests, which has nothing at
all of Persian in it. On the entrance of a stranger into
the house, the husband presents him to his wife, and the
stranger kisses her, and this passes as a compliment to
the husband. Though the fathers in the marriage contract
of their daughters, generally covenant that their
husbands shall not beat them; yet it is not to be
believed how much the Muscovite women love to be beaten
; they cannot conceive that they possess their husband’s
heart, if he does not beat them. A contrary treatment
from him, is a mark of indifference not to be forgiven.
See a letter which one of these wives lately wrote to
her mother:
‘My dear Mother,
‘I am the most
unhappy woman in the world, there is nothing that I have
not done to make my husband love me, but I cannot obtain
it Yesterday I had a thousand houshold affairs to do; I
went out and staid abroad all day; I expected at my
return that he would beat me severely; but he did not
say one word to me about it. My sister is much otherwise
treated, her husband beats her every day; she cannot
look at a man but he knocks her down in a moment; they
love one another very dearly, and there is the best
understanding in the world between them. This it is that
makes her so proud; but I will not long give her
occasion to despise me. I am determined to procure my
husband’s love, let it cost what it will; I will so
provoke him that he must needs give me some proofs of
his love. It shall never be said, that I was never beat,
and that I lived in the house without ever being thought
of: the least slap he gives me I will cry out with all
my might, that the neighbourhood may imagine that all
goes well, and I believe that if any of them should come
to my assistance, I should strangle them. I beseech you,
my dear mother, that you would represent to my husband,
that he treats me in an unworthy manner. My father, who
was a good man, did not carry himself so; and I
remember, when I was a little girl, I thought he
sometimes loved you too much. I embrace you, my dear
mother.’
The Muscovites
must not leave the kingdom, even to travel. Thus,
separated by the laws of their country from all other
nations, they have retained their ancient customs with
so much the more constancy, as they did not think it was
possible to have any others. But the now reigning prince
was resolved to change the whole; he had a great
struggle with them about their beards; the clergy and
the monks did not contend less in favour of their
ignorance. He employs himself in making the arts
flourish, and neglects nothing to spread the glory of
his nation throughout Europe and Asia, not observed
hitherto, and scarcely known to any but themselves.
Restless, and continually busied, he wanders through his
extensive dominions, leaving behind him in every place,
marks of his natural ferocity. As if not sufficient to
contain him, he quits them, to explore in Europe other
provinces and new kingdoms. I embrace thee, my dear
Usbek, I beg I may hear of thee.
Moscow, the 2d of
the moon Chalval, 1713.
LETTER LII.
Rica to
Usbek, at * * *.
THE other day I
was in some company, where I was very well diverted.
There were women of every age, one of fourscore years,
one of sixty, one of forty, who had a niece between
twenty and two and twenty. A certain instinct led me to
go near the last, who whispered in my ear: “What do you
say to my aunt, who at her years is desirous of having
lovers, and still endeavours to be thought handsome?”
“She is in the wrong, said I, it is a design only
suitable to you.” A moment afterwards I happened to be
near her aunt, who says to me, “What do you say to that
woman, who, at least, is threescore, and yet spent an
hour to-day at her dressing table?” “It was time lost,
said I, and she ought to have had your beauty to excuse
her.” I went to this unhappy threescore, and pitied her
in my heart, when she whispered me: “Is there any thing
so ridiculous? Look at that woman of fourscore, who yet
wears flame-coloured ribbons; she would fain make
herself young, and indeed she has succeeded, for this
borders upon infancy.” “Oh heavens! said I to myself,
shall we never be sensible but of the folly of others?”
“It is perhaps a happiness, said I, afterward, that we
can reap comfort from the weaknesses of another.”
However, being in a humour to be merry, Come, said I, we
have mounted high enough, let us now go downward, and
begin with the old lady who is at the top.” “Madam, you
are so very like the lady I just now left to speak to
you, that it seems as if you were sisters; I fancy you
are both of the same age.” “Truly, Sir, said she, when
one dies of age, the other will quake for fear; I do not
believe there is two days difference between us.” When I
had quitted my decrepid lady, I went to her of sixty.
“Madam, said I, you must decide a wager I have laid; I
have ventured a wager that you and this lady are of an
age, shewing her the lady of forty.” “Truly, said she, I
believe there is not above six months difference.” Good,
so far; let us go on. I still descend, and go to the
lady of forty. “Madam, do me the favour to inform me, if
it is not in jest, when you call the lady, who is at the
other end of the table, your niece? You are as young as
she is; besides, she has something of a decay in her
face, which you certainly have not; and the lively
colours in your cheeks”—“No, hear me, said she, I am her
aunt; but her mother was at least five and twenty years
older than myself; we were not by the same venter; I
have heard my late sister say, that her daughter and
myself were both born in the same year. “I then said
right, madam, and was not wrong in being surprised.” My
dear Usbek, when the women find themselves near their
end by the loss of their charms, they would willingly
steal back again towards youth. How should they but
endeavour to cheat others, who make every effort to
deceive themselves, and to dispossess their minds of the
most afflicting of all thoughts?
Paris, the 3d of
the moon Chalval, 1713.
LETTER LIII.
Zelis to
Usbek, at
Paris.
NEVER was there
a more strong and lively passion than that of Cosrou,
the white eunuch, for my slave Zelida, he hath so
earnestly desired her in marriage, that I am not able to
deny him. And why should I make any opposition, when her
mother does not, and that even Zelida herself appears
satisfied with the idea of this mock marriage, and this
empty shadow with which she is presented? What will she
do with this unhappy creature, who will have nothing of
a husband besides his jealousy; who can only exchange
his coldness for an unavailing despair; who will always
be calling to mind what he hath been, to put her in mind
of what he now no longer is; who, always ready to enjoy,
and never enjoying, will always be cheating himself, and
cheating her, and make her continually sensible of the
wretchedness of her condition? And then! to be always in
dreams and fancies! to live only in imagination! to find
one’s self ever near, but never tasting, pleasure!
languishing in the arms of an unhappy wretch! instead of
answering to his sighs, to answer only to his repinings!
What a contempt must such a kind of man inspire, formed
only to guard, and never to possess? I seek for love,
and I find it not!—I speak freely to thee, because thou
lovest my frankness and disposition for pleasure, more
than the affected reserve of my companions. I have heard
thee say a thousand times that eunuchs taste a kind of
pleasure with women that is unknown to us; that makes up
their loss; that nature hath resources which repair the
disadvantage of their condition; that they may indeed
lose their manhood, but not their sensibility; and that
in this state, they enjoy a kind of third sense; so that
they only change, as one may say, one pleasure for
another. If it be so, I shall think Zelida less to be
pitied. It is some consolation to live with people less
unhappy. Give me thy orders on this affair, and let me
know if thou wilt have this marriage consummated in thy
seraglio. Farewel.
From the seraglio
at Ispahan, the 5th of the moon Chalval, 1713.
LETTER LIV.
Rica, Usbek at
* * *.
THIS morning as
I was in my chamber, which, as thou knowest, is only
divided from the next by a slight partition, and full of
cracks, so that one may hear every thing that is said in
the adjoining room, a man, walking hastily up and down
it, said to another, “I know not how it is, but every
thing goes against me. It is above three days since I
have said any thing that hath done me honour, and I have
been confounded indiscriminately in the general
conversation, without the least attention, or being
spoken to twice. I had prepared some witty expressions
to embellish my discourse, but they would not let me
introduce them. I had a good story, but every time I
endeavoured to tell it, they avoided it, as though they
had done it on purpose. I was provided with some clever
jests, which for these four days have lain like old
lumber in my head, without the least occasion to use
them. If this continues, I shall be a fool at last; it
seems that my stars will have it so, and drive me to
despair. Yesterday I had hopes of shining among three or
four old ladies, who certainly had no design to impose
upon me, and I had some mighty pretty things to say; I
was above a quarter of an hour labouring to turn the
conversation, but they would not follow, but, like the
fatal sisters, cut off the thread of my discourse. Shall
I tell you? It is very difficult to support the
character of a wit. I do not know how you have managed
to obtain it.”—“I have a thought, replied the other, let
us jointly endeavour to support each other’s wit; let us
make a partnership. We will every day tell each other
what we will say, and support each other so well, that
let what will happen, our thoughts shall never be
interrupted; we will draw every body to us, and if they
will not come over freely, we will force them. We will
agree when to approve, when to smile, and when to burst
out a laughing. You shall find we will give a turn to
all conversations, and nothing shall be admired but the
quickness of our wit, and the good things we say; we
will protect each other upon a nod. You shall shine
to-day, to morrow you shall second me. I will go into a
house with you, and cry out, as I introduce you, I must
tell you a witty reply this gentleman made just now, to
one we met in the street; and then, turning to you, he
did not expect any such thing, he was quite confounded.
I will repeat some of my verses, and you must say, I was
present when he made them, it was a supper, he did not
study a moment for them Nay, you and I will sometimes
rally each other; and people will say, observe how they
attack one another, how they defend themselves; they do
not spare each other; let’s see how he will get off
that; wonderful! what presence of mind! a downright
battle indeed!—But they cannot tell we have been
skirmishing beforehand. We must get some works full of
jests, composed for the use of those who have not wit,
and are willing to counterfeit it; but all depends upon
copying from originals. I see that in less than six
months we shall be able to maintain a conversation of an
hour long, all composed of witticisms. But we must be
very careful to support our good fortune; it is not
enough to say a good thing, it must be spread abroad,
and dispersed every where, or else it will be lost; and
I must confess that there is nothing so mortifying as to
have said a smart thing, and to have it expire in the
ear of the fool who heard it. It is true this is
sometimes compensated, by having a good many foolish
things we say passed over in silence; and this is the
only thing that can console us on such an occasion. See,
my dear friend, the scheme we must pursue. Act as I have
directed you, and I promise you in less than six months
you will have a seat in the academy; this is to let you
know your labour will be soon over; for thou mayest then
give up thine art; for you will then be a man of wit, in
spite of yourself. It is observed in France, that when a
man enters himself of any society, he instantly catches
what is called the spirit of the body; you will
experience this; and I am in no fear for you, but for
the applauses you will be loaded with.”
Paris, the 6th of
the moon Zilcade, 1714.
LETTER LV.
Rica to
Ibben at Smyrna.
THE first
quarter of an hour after marriage, among the Europeans,
smooths every difficulty; the last favours are always of
the same date with the nuptial blessing: the women here
do not behave like ours in Persia, who sometimes dispute
the ground for whole months: there is nothing so
indulging; if they lose nothing, it is because they have
nothing to lose: but you may always know, O shameful!
the moment of their defeat; and, without consulting the
stars, the birth of their children may be predicted to
the very hour. The French seldom or ever speak of their
wives; it is for fear of talking of them before people
who know them better than themselves. There is a set of
very miserable creatures among them, whom nobody
comforts; these are jealous husbands; there are some
whom all the world hates, jealous husbands; there are
some whom every body despises, these are the same,
jealous husbands. Therefore there is no country where
there are so few of them as among the French. Their
tranquility is not placed upon the confidence they have
in their wives, it is on the contrary, upon the bad
opinion they entertain of them. All the wise precautions
of the Asiatics, the veils that cover them, the prisons
that secure them, the vigilance of eunuchs, appear to
them more likely means to put the sex upon contriving,
than to weary it out. Here, the husbands bear their part
with a good grace, and consider the infidelity of their
wives as an inevitable stroke of fatality. An husband
who would keep his wife to himself, would be regarded as
a disturber of the public peace, and as a madman, who
would enjoy the light of the sun to the exclusion of
every body else. Here, an husband who loves his wife, is
considered as a man who hath not merit enough to make
himself beloved by any other woman; and as one who makes
a bad use of the necessity of the law, to supply the
perfections he wants; who makes use of his rights to the
prejudice of the whole community; who appropriates that
to himself which was only lent to him; and who
endeavours, as much as in him, to break that tacit
compact which constitutes the happiness of both sexes.
The report of being married to a very handsome woman,
which in Asia is concealed with so much care, is borne
here without uneasiness; they find themselves able to
divert themselves every where. A prince comforts himself
upon the loss of one place, by the taking of another. At
the time the Turks took Bagdad from us, were not we
taking from the Mogul the sortress of Candahar? In
general, a man who bears with the infidelity of a wife,
is not disapproved of; on the contrary, he is praised
for his prudence: there are only some particular cares
which are dishonourable. It is not that there are no
virtuous women here; it may be said they are
distinguished; my conductor hath constantly made me take
notice of them: but they were all so ugly, that a man
must be a saint not to hate such virtue. After what I
have told thee of the manners of this country, thou wilt
easily imagine, that the French do not pique themselves
much on their constancy. They think it as ridiculous to
swear to a woman, that they will love her always, as to
maintain that they will always continue in good health,
or that they will always be happy. When they promise a
woman that they will always love her, they suppose that
she on her part, engages to be always amiable; and if
she breaks her word, they think themselves no longer
bound to their word.
Paris, the 7th of
the moon Zilcade, 1714.
LETTER LVI.
Usbek to
Ibbin, at
Smyrna.
IN Europe gaming
is much used; to be a gamester is sufficient to hold the
place of birth, riches, or honesty, and, without
examination, admits him to the rank of a gentleman;
though there is nobody who does not know, that in
judging in this manner, they are often deceived; but
they have agreed to be incorrigible. The women, above
all, are greatly given to it. It is true, they do not
practise it much in their youth, to favour a dearer
passion; but as they advance in years, their passion for
play revives, and seems to supply the vacancy of the
rest. They are determined to ruin their husbands, and to
that end they have means suited to every stage of life,
from the tenderest youth to the most decripid old age;
the destruction commences with dress and equipage,
gallantry continues it, and it is finished with gaming.
I have often seen nine or ten women, or rather nine or
ten centuries, set round a table; I have watched them in
their hopes, their fears, their joys, especially in
their transports of anger: you would swear they could
never have time to appease themselves, and that their
lives would end before their rage; thou wouldest have
been in doubt, whether those they paid were their
creditors or their legatees. It seems that our holy
prophet principally intended to restrain us from every
thing that might disturb our reason: He forbad us the
use of wine, which as it were buries our reason: he
hath, by an express command, prohibited all games of
chance; and where it was impossible to take away the
cause of our passions, he hath deadened them. Love,
amongst us, brings no trouble, no fury; it is a languid
passion, which leaves our soul in peace: a plurality of
wives saves us from their dominion; and moderates the
violence of our appetites.
Paris, the 10th of
the moon Zilhade, 1714.
LETTER LVII.
Usbek, to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
A PRODIGIOUS
number of women of pleasure are maintained here by the
libertines, and an innumerable quantity of dervises by
the bigots. The dervises take three oaths, of obedience,
poverty, and chastity. The first is said to be observed
best of all; as to the second, I can assure you it is
not regarded; I leave thee to judge of the third. But as
rich as these dervises are, they will never quit the
character of poverty; our glorious sultan would sooner
resign his sublime and noble titles: they are in the
right, for this pretence to poverty prevents them from
being so. The physicians, and some of these dervises,
called confessors, are here always too much esteemed, or
too much despised: yet it is said the heirs are better
reconciled to the physicians than to the confessors. The
other day I was in a convent of dervises, one of them,
venerable for his grey hairs, received me very
courteously; having shewn me all the house, we went into
the garden, and fell into discourse. “My father, said I
to him, what is your employment in the community?” “Sir,
replied he, with an air of pleasantry at my question, I
am a casuist.” “Casuist! replied I; from the time of my
being in France, I have never heard of this employment.”
“How! do you not know what a casuist is? attend; I will
give you an idea of it that shall thoroughly inform you.
There are two kinds of sins, mortal sins, which
absolutely exclude from Paradise, and venal sins, which
though indeed offensive to God, do not so provoke him as
to deprive us of beatitude. Now our whole art consists
in rightly distinguishing these two kinds of sin; for
except some libertines, all Christians are willing to
obtain Paradise; but there is scarce any person would
not willingly gain it upon as easy terms as possible.
When they are well acquainted what sins are mortal, they
take care not to commit them, and their business is
done, These are persons who do not aspire to a great
degree of perfection, and as they have no ambition, are
not solicitous for the first places; so as they can but
get into Paradise they desire no more; provided they are
there, that’s enough for them. These are those who take
heaven by violence, rather than not obtain it, and who
say to God, Lord, I have rigorously fulfilled the
conditions, thou canst not refuse to keep thy promise;
as I have done no more than what thou didst demand of
me, I do not expect thou shouldest grant me more than
thou hast promised. We are therefore, Sir, a very
necessary kind of people. This, however, is not all; you
shall hear something further. It is not the act that
constitutes the sin, it is the knowledge of him who
commits it; he who doth evil, if he can believe that it
is not an evil, his conscience is safe: and there are a
vast number of actions of a doubtful nature, a casuist
can give them a degree of goodness that they have not,
and pronounce them good; and provided he can persuade
the man to believe they are harmless, he entirely takes
away all their evil. I have here told you the secret of
a trade I am grown old in: I have made you sensible of
the nicety of it: there is a turn to be given to every
thing, even to things which appear the least capable of
it.” “My father, said I to him, all this is very well,
but how do you yourself settle matters with heaven? If
the grand sophi had in his court a man who was to act
with respect to him as you do towards your God, who
should put a distinction between his orders, and should
teach his subjects in what case they ought to obey them,
and in what case they might violate them, he would
instantly impale him.”—I bowed to my dervise, and left
him without waiting for his reply.
Paris, the 23d of
the moon Maharran, 1714.
LETTER LVIII.
Rica to
Rhedi, at Venice.
THERE are a
great many trades, my dear Rhedi, at Paris. A man there
will be so obliging, as to offer you, for a little
silver, the secret of making gold. Another promises that
you shall lie with the spirits of the air, providing you
will only abstain from women thirty years. You may also
meet with able diviners, who will tell you your whole
life, if they have had but one quarter of an hour’s
conversation with your servants. There are some
ingenious women, who make virginity a flower which dies
and revives every day, and is gathered the hundredth
time with more pain than the first. There are others,
who by the power of their art, repair all the injuries
of time; who know how to re-establish the fading beauty
of a complexion, and even to bring back a woman from the
extremity of old age, to return again to the tenderest
youth. All these people live, or endeavour to do so, in
a city which is the mother of invention. The revenues of
the citizens cannot possibly be farmed: they consist
only in ingenuity and industry; each person hath his
talent, which he renders as profitable as he can.
Whoever would number the men of the law, who seek after
the revenue of some mosque, might as soon count the
sands of the sea, and the slaves of our monarch. A vast
number of masters of languages, arts, and sciences,
teach what they themselves are ignorant of; and this is
a very extraordinary talent, for a great understanding
is not necessary to teach what one knows, but a person
must have a very great understanding to teach another
what he himself is ignorant of. Nobody can die here,
except suddenly; death hath no other way to exercise his
power: for there are here in every corner, people who
have infallible remedies against every imaginable
distemper. All the shops are spread with invisible nets,
in which they catch their customers. However a good
bargain is sometimes made: a young female dealer will
wheedle a man for a whole hour, to make him buy a packet
of tooth-pickers. There are none but who leave this city
more cautious than when they entered it, by having
squandered away part of their subsistence amongst
others, they learn how to take care of the remainder;
the only benefit which strangers gain in this enchanting
city.
Paris, the 10th of
the moon Saphar. 1714.
LETTER LIX.
Rica to
Usbek, at A * * *.
THE other day I
was in a house where there was a circle of all sorts of
people; I found the conversation engrossed by two old
ladies, who had laboured in vain all the morning to make
themselves young again. “It must be allowed said one of
them, that the men of these times are very different
from those whom we saw in our youth; they were polite,
well bred, complaisant, but now they are intolerably
brutish.” “Every thing is changed, said a man, who
appeared crippled with the gout; times are not as they
were: forty years ago all the world behaved well, they
walked, were gay, they desired nothing but to dance and
sing, but now all the world is insupportably dull.” Soon
after the conversation turned to politics.—Said an old
lord, “The state is no longer governed; point me out
now, such a minister as monsieur Colbert; he was one of
my friends, he always ordered the pay of my pension
before it was due: in what good order did he keep the
finances! every body was at ease, but now I am ruined.”
Sir, said an ecclesiastic, you are speaking of the most
wonderful times of our invincible monarch; was there any
thing so great as what he then did to extirpate heresy?”
“And do you reckon for nothing his putting an end to
duels?” said another with an air of satisfaction, who
had not spoke a word before. “That remark is very
judicious, said another in a whisper to me. This man is
charmed with the edict, and he observes it so strictly,
that six months ago he suffered himself to be heartily
caned, rather than violate it.” It appears to me, Usbek,
that we never judge of things but with a private view to
ourselves. I do not wonder that the negroes paint the
devil in the most glaring whiteness, and their gods as
black as a coal; that the Venus of some nations should
be represented with breasts pendant to her thighs; nor
indeed that all idolators have made their gods of human
figures, and have ascribed to them all their own
passions. My dear Usbek, when I see men who creep upon
an atom, the earth, which is but as a point to the
universe, propose themselves as the immediate models of
Providence, I know not how to reconcile so much
presumption with so much insufficiency.
Paris, the 14th of
the moon Saphar, 1714.
LETTER LX.
Usbek to
Ibben, at
Smyrna.
THOU asketh me
if there are any Jews in France? Know that throughout
the world wherever there is money, there are Jews. Thou
inquirest what they do here? The very same they do in
Persia: nothing more resembles a Jew in Asia, than a Jew
in Europe. They shew among the Christains, as among us,
an invincible obstinacy for their religion, which they
carry to the height of folly. The religion of the Jews
is an old trunk which hath produced two branches, which
have covered all the earth, I mean Christianity and
Mahometism; or rather it is a mother who hath brought
forth two daughters, who have covered her with a
thousand wounds: for with respect to religion, its
nearest friends are its greatest enemies. But as ill as
she hath been treated by these, she doth not cease to
glory in having produced them; she serves herself of
both to encompass the whole world, whilst on her own
part, her venerable age embraces all ages. The Jews
consider themselves as the source of all holiness, and
the origin of all religion: they on the other hand, look
upon us as heretics, who have changed the law, or rather
as rebellious Jews. If the change had been gradually
effected, they think they might have been easily
seduced; but as it was suddenly changed, and in a
violent manner, as they can point out the day and the
hour of the birth of the one and the other, they are
offended at finding us reckoning our religion by ages,
and therefore adhere firmly to a religion, not preceded
in antiquity by even the world itself. They never
enjoyed in Europe a calm equal to the present.
Christians begin to lay aside that intolerating spirit
which formerly influenced them. Spain hath experienced
the bad consequence of having expelled the Jews, and
France of having worried the Christians, whose faith
differed a little from that of the prince. They are now
sensible that a zeal for the progress of religion is
different from that attachment which ought to be
preserved towards her; and that in order to love and
obey her, it is not necessary to hate and persecute
those who do not regard her. It is to be wished that our
Mussulmans would think as rationally upon this subject
as the Christians, that we might, in good earnest, make
peace between Hali and Abubeker, and leave to God the
care of deciding the pretensions of these holy prophets.
I would have them honoured by acts of veneration and
respect, and not by vain preferences, and to endeavour
to merit their favour, whatever place God may have
assigned them, whether at his right hand, or quite under
the footstool of his throne.
Paris, the 18th of
the moon Saphar, 1714.
LETTER LXI.
Usbek to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
THE other day I
went into a famous church, called Notre-Dame; whilst I
was admiring this superb edifice, I had an opportunity
of conversing with a churchman, whom, as well as myself,
curiosity had drawn thither. Our conversation fell upon
the ease enjoyed in his profession. “The generality of
people, said he, envy the happiness of our condition,
and with reason. However it hath its uneasinesses; we
are not so divided from the world, as not to be called
into it upon a thousand occasions, and there it is very
difficult to support our part. The people of the world
are surprising, they can neither bear our approbation,
nor our censures; if we attempt to reprove them, we are
ridiculous; if we approve their conduct, we are
considered as acting beneath our character. There is
nothing so humbling, as the thought of having given
scandal even to the impious. We are therefore obliged to
use a doubtful kind of conduct, and deal with
libertines, not in a decisive way, but by the
uncertainty in which we leave them to judge of the
manner in which we received their conversation. There
must be a good deal of ingenuity to this purpose; this
neutral state is very difficult: the men of the world,
who hazard every thing, who indulge all their flights,
and who, according to their success, pursue or drop
them, succeed much better. This is not all. This state,
so happy and so quiet, so much boasted of, is not to be
kept up in the world. As, on our appearance there, we
are forced to dispute: we are obliged to undertake, for
example, to prove the efficacy of prayer, to a man who
does not believe in God; the necessity of fasting, to
another, who all his life time hath denied the
immortality of the soul; the enterprize is difficult,
and the laughers are not with us. Further, a strong
desire to draw others to our opinion, perpetually
torments us, and is, as I may say, fixed to our
profession. This is as ridiculous, as it would be for
the Europeans to labour, for the honour of human nature,
to wash the Africans white. We trouble the state, we
torment even ourselves, to make men receive the
nonessential points of religion; and we are like that
conqueror of China, who forced his subjects into a
general revolt, because he wanted to oblige them to cut
their hair and their nails. That zeal even which we
have, to make those who are under our immediate care,
fulfil the duties of our holy religion, is often
dangerous, and cannot be attended with too much
prudence. Theodosius, the emperor, put to the sword all
the inhabitants of a certain city, even the women and
children! afterwards offering to go into a church,
Ambrose, a bishop, shut the doors against him, as a
sacrilegious murderer; and in this he did a noble
action. This emperor having afterwards submitted to the
penance such a crime required, being admitted into the
church, going to place himself among the priests, the
same bishop turned him out; and in this he acted like a
fanatic: so true it is that we ought to be diffident of
our zeal. What did it import to religion, or the state,
whether this prince had, or had not, a place among the
priests?”
Paris, the first of
the moon of the 1st Rebiab, 1714.
LETTER LXII.
Zelis to
Usbek, at
Paris.
THY daughter
having attained to her seventh year, I thought it was
time to remove her into the inner apartments of the
seraglio, and not to wait till she should be ten years
old, to entrust her to the care of the black eunuchs. We
cannot too soon deprive a young person of the liberties
of childhood, and bestow on her an holy education,
within the sacred walls where modesty dwells. For I
cannot be of the opinion of those mothers, who do not
shut their daughters up, till they are upon the point of
marrying them, who rather condemn them to a seraglio,
than consecrate them in it; making them embrace by
violence, a kind of life they ought to have inspired
them with the love of. Is all to be expected from the
force of reason, and nothing from the sweetness of
custom? It is in vain to talk of the state of subjection
in which nature hath placed us: this is not sufficient
to make us sensible of it; we must be made to practise
it, that it may support us at the critical time when the
passions shoot forth, and provoke us to independence. If
by our duty only we were attached to you, we might
sometimes forget it; if drawn only by our inclination,
perhaps a stronger might weaken it. But when the laws
have devoted us to one man, they deprive us of all
others, place us as distant from them, as if we were an
hundred thousand leagues off. Nature, industriously
favourable to men, hath not bounded itself in giving
desires to men, she was willing that we should have them
too, and that we should be the animated instruments of
their felicity: she hath put in us the flame of the
passions, to make them live easy: if they ever quit
their insensibility, she hath destined us to make them
return to it again, without our ever being able to taste
that happy state in which we place them. Yet, Usbek, do
not imagine that thy situation is happier than mine: I
have tasted here a thousand pleasures unknown to you. My
imagination hath incessantly laboured to make me
sensible of their value: I have lived, and you have only
languished. In the very prison where thou hast confined
me, I am more free than thou. Thou only knowest how to
redouble thy cautions, to have me guarded, yet I shall
enjoy thy fears, and thy suspicions, thy jealousy and
thy uneasiness are so many marks of thy dependence.
Continue, dear Usbek, to have me watched night and day;
nay, do not trust to common precautions: augment my
happiness, by securing thy own: and know that I dread
nothing but thy indifference.
From the seraglio
at Ispahan, the 2d of the moon of the 1st Rebiab, 1714.
LETTER LXIII.
Rica to
Usbek, at * * *.
THOU intendest,
I think, to pass thy life in the country. I was not to
have lost thee at first, for more than three or four
days, and here are fifteen gone, and I have not seen
thee. It is true, thou art in a delightful house, where
you find company suitable to your taste, and can reason
at thy ease: there is nothing more necessary to make
thee forget the whole universe. I, for my part, lead my
life pretty nearly in the same manner, as when you saw
me. I launch into the world, and endeavour to know it.
My mind insensibly loses all that remained of the
Asiatic, and easily conforms to European manners. I am
no longer surprised at the sight of five or six women in
one house, with as many men; and I begin to think it is
not improper. I may say I knew nothing of women till I
came here: I have learned more of them here in a month,
than I should have done in thirty years in a seraglio.
With us there is an uniformity of character, as it is al
forced: we do not see people as they are, but as they
are obliged to appear: in this state of slavery, both of
body and mind, it is their fears only that speak, which
have but one language, and that not of nature, which
expresses herself so differently, and which appears unde
so many forms. Dissimulation, an art among us
universally practised, and so necessary, is unknown
here: they speak every thing, see every thing, and hear
every thing: the heart, like the face, is visible: in
their manners, in their virtue, even in their vices,
there is always something genuine and native to be
perceived. To please the women here, a certain talent is
necessary, different from that which contributes more to
their pleasure: it consists in a kind of witty playing
of the fool, that amuses them, as it seems to promise
them every minute what they can only hope to enjoy at
too long intervals. This playing of the fool, naturally
adapted to the toilet, seems to constitute the general
character of this nation; they thus play the fool in the
council, at the head of an army, and do the same with
ambassadors. No profession appears ridiculous but in
proportion to the gravity mixed with it; a physician
would not be so ridiculous, if his dress was less
affectedly grave, and if he killed his patients with
more pleasantry.
Paris, the 10th of
the moon of the 1st Rebiab, 1714.
LETTER LXIV.
The Chief of the
Black Eunuchs to Usbek at
Paris.
I KNOW not how,
magnificent lord, to express the perplexity I am in; the
seraglio is in terrible confusion and disorder: war
reigns among thy wives: thy eunuchs are divided: nothing
is heard but complaints, murmurings, and reproaches: my
remonstrances are despised, every thing seems allowable
in their licentious moments, and I bear no more than an
empty title in the seraglio. There is not one of thy
wives who does not judge herself superior to the rest
for her birth, beauty, riches, wit, or thy love; and who
does not make one of these pretences a sufficient ground
to claim the whole respect. I at this instant lose my
long-continued patience, with which I have always had
the misfortune to make them displeased at me; my
prudence, even my complaisance, a virtue so rare and
uncommon in the post I hold, have been ineffectual.
Shall I discover to thee, magnificent lord, the source
of all this disorder? It is wholly in thy heart, and in
the tender regard thou hast for them. If thou didst not
restrain my hand; if, instead of the liberty of
remonstrating, thou wouldst allow me that of chastising:
if, instead of suffering thyself to be softened by their
complaints and tears, thou wouldst send them to weep
before me, which should never soften me, I would soon
fashion them to the yoke they ought to bear, and I
should weary out their imperious and independant humour.
Being stole away at the age of fifteen years, from the
remotest part of Africa, my native country, I was at
first sold to a master, who had above twenty wives or
concubines, who judged from my gravity and taciturnity,
that I was fit for a seraglio; he ordered I should be
made so, and made me submit to an operation painful at
first, but which afterwards made me happy, as it brought
me to the ear and confidence of my masters. I entered
the seraglio, which was a new world to me. The chief
eunuch, a man the most severe I ever saw, governed there
with an absolute power. There was no talk heard there of
divisions or quarrels: a profound silence reigned
throughout; all the women retired to rest at the same
hour, from one end of the year to another, and rose
again always at a certain hour: they entered the baths
by turns, and came out at the least signal we made: they
were shut up in their chambers almost the rest of their
time. He had one rule, which was to make them observe
the greatest neatness, and it is impossible to express
his care for this purpose: he punished without mercy the
least refusal of his orders. “I am, said he, a slave,
but it is to a man who is your master as well as mine;
and I only use the power he hath given me over you; it
is he who corrects you, and not I, who do no more than
lend my hand. These women never entered my master’s
chamber, unless they were called; they received this
favour with joy, and saw themselves deprived of it
without murmuring. In short, I who was the meanest black
in this peaceful seraglio, was a thousand times more
respected than I am in thine, where I command every
body. As soon as this chief eunuch understood my genius,
he regarded me; spoke of me to my master, as a man fit
to pursue his methods, and to succeed him in the post he
filled: he was not prejudiced at my youthfulness; he
thought my attention would supply the want of
experience. Shall I tell thee! I grew so much in his
confidence, that he made no difficulty to put into my
hands the keys of those tremendous places, which he for
so long a time had guarded. It was under this able
master that I learned the difficult art of commanding,
and formed to myself the maxims of an inflexible
government; I studied under him, the hearts of women; he
taught me to take advantage of their weaknesses, and not
to be confounded by their haughtiness. Often did he
please himself with seeing me force them to the utmost
verge of obedience; he then made them return again by
degrees, and made me seem myself to give way for a time.
You should have seen him in those moments, when they
were driven almost to despair, between intreaties and
reproaches; he bore their tears without being moved
himself, and experienced a pleasure in this kind of
triumph. See, said he, with an air of complacency, how
women must be governed; their number does not incommode
me; I could govern in the same manner, all those of our
great monarch. How can a man captivate their hearts, if
their trusty eunuchs did not first break their spirits?
He was not only possessed of a firm resolution, but also
of as great penetration. He read their thoughts, and saw
through their dissimulations: their studied looks, their
fictitious countenances concealed nothing from him. He
gained a knowledge of all their most private actions,
and their most secret words. he made use of some to gain
intelligence of others, and delighted to reward the
least confidence placed in him. As they never approached
their husbands but when they had notice, the eunuch
introduced whom he pleased, and directed his master’s
regards according to his own views; and this distinction
was the reward of some secret intelligence. He had
persuaded his master that it was necessary to leave this
choice to him, in order to preserve good order, and to
make his authority the greater. Such was the government,
magnificent lord, in a seraglio which was, I believe,
better regulated than any other in Persia. Leave my
hands at liberty, permit me to make myself obeyed; one
week shall put this confusion into order: this is what
thy honour demands, and what thy security requires.
From the seraglio
at Ispahan, the 9th of the moon of the 1st Rebiab, 1714.
LETTER LXV.
Usbek to his Wives, at the
Seraglio at Ispahan.
I UNDERSTAND
that the seraglio is in disorder, and that it is filled
with quarrels and intestine divisions. What did I
recommend at my departure, but peace and good
understanding? You promised me this, was it to deceive
me? It is you who would be deceived, if I was willing to
follow the advice given me by the chief eunuch; if I
would use my authority to make you live as my
exhortations required you to do. I know not how to make
use of such violent methods, until I have tried every
other. Do then, in consideration of yourselves, what you
would not be willing to do for my sake. The chief eunuch
hath great occasion to complain: he says you have no
respect for him. How can you reconcile this conduct with
the modesty of your condition? Is it not to him that,
during my absence, your virtue is intrusted? This is a
sacred treasure, of which he is the depository. But the
contempt you shew him, makes it appear, that those who
have the care of making you live according to the law of
honour, are burthensome. Change therefore your conduct,
I desire you, that I may yet reject the proposals made
to me against your liberty and repose. For I would make
you to forget that I am your master, and that you may
only remember that I am your husband.
Paris, the 5th of
the moon Chahban, 1714.
LETTER LXVI.
Rica to
* * *.
THE sciences are
here very much studied; but I know not if those who
study them are very learned. He who doubts of every
thing as a philosopher, dares to deny nothing as a
divine; this contradictory man is always satisfied with
himself, provided qualities are agreed to. The passion
of most of the French is to be taken for wits, and the
passion of those who would be thought wits, is to write
books. And yet there is nothing so badly imagined:
nature seems to have provided, that the follies of men
should be transient, but they by writing books render
them permanent. A fool ought to content himself with
having wearied those who lived with him: but he is for
tormenting future generations; he is desirous that his
folly should triumph over oblivion, which he ought to
have enjoyed as well as his grave; he is desirous that
posterity should be informed that he lived, and that it
should be known for ever that he was a fool. Of all kind
of authors there are none I despise more than compilers,
who search every where for shreds of other men’s works,
which they join to their own, like so many pieces of
green turf in a garden: they are not at all superior to
compositors in a printing house, who range the types,
which, collected together, make a book, towards which
they contribute nothing but the labours of the hand. I
would have original writers respected, and it seems to
me a kind of profanation to take those pieces from the
sanctuary in which they reside, and to expose them to a
contempt they do not deserve. When a man hath nothing
new to say, why does not he hold his tongue? What
business have we with this double employment? But I will
give a new order. You are an ingenious man; you come
into my library, and you remove those books which were
at the top to the bottom, and put those which were
lowermost at top; this is a masterly work indeed! I
write to thee on this subject, * * *, because I am angry
at a book which I have just left, which is so large,
that it seems to contain universal science, but it hath
almost split my head, without teaching me any thing.
Farewel.
Paris, the 8th of
the moon Chahban, 1714.
LETTER LXVII.
Ibben to
Usbek, at
Paris.
THERE are three
ships arrived here, without bringing me any news of
thee. Art thou sick? or dost thou take a pleasure in
making me uneasy? If thou dost not love me in a country
where thou art tied to nothing, what wouldst thou do in
the middle of Persia, and in the bosom of thy family!
But may be I deceive myself: thou art amiable enough to
find friends every where; the heart is a citizen of
every country; how can a well-formed mind hinder itself
from entering into engagements? I confess to thee I
respect old friendships, but I am not displeased at
making new ones every where. In whatever country I have
been, I have lived as though I was to pass my life
there: I have had the same warm affection for virtuous
people, the same compassion, or rather the same
tenderness, for the unhappy; the same regard for those
whom prosperity hath not blinded. This is my
disposition, Usbek: wherever I shall meet with men, I
shall chuse friends. There is a certain Guebree here,
who, I think, after thee, enjoys the first place in my
heart: he is probity itself. Some particular reasons
have obliged him to retire to this city, where he lives
at ease, with his wife, whom he loves, on the product of
an honest traffic. His whole life is remarkable for
generous actions; and though he seeks to be private, he
hath more heroism in his soul, than in that of the
greatest monarchs. I have talked a thousand times to him
of thee, I shew him all thy letters; I observe they give
him pleasure, and I already perceive that thou hast a
friend who is unknown to thee. Thou wilt find here his
chief adventures; though he wrote them with reluctance,
he could refuse nothing to my friendship, and I intrust
them to thine.
The History of
Apheridon and
Astarte.
I WAS born
among the Guebres
, of a religion which is, perhaps, the most ancient in
the world. I was so unhappy, that love came to me before
reason. I was scarce six years of age when I could not
live without my sister: my eyes were always fixed on
her; and if she left me but a moment, she found them at
her return bathed in tears: every day did not add more
to my age than to my love. My father, astonished at so
strong a sympathy, wished indeed to marry us together,
according to the ancient custom of the Guebres,
introduced by Cambyses, but the fear of the Mahometans,
whose yoke we live under, restrains those of our nation
from thinking of such holy alliances, which our religion
rather commands than forbids, and which resemble so much
the natural union constituted by nature. My father,
seeing it would be dangerous to follow his inclination
and mine, determined to extinguish a flame which he
thought in its infancy, but which was at its height; he
pretended to make a voyage, and took me with him,
leaving my sister in the hands of one of his relations,
for my mother had been dead two years. I will not tell
you what my despair was at this separation: I embraced
my sister, all bathed in teats, but I shed none; for
grief had rendered me insensible. We arrived at Tefflis,
and my father, having intrusted my education to one of
our relations, left me there, and returned home. Some
time after I learned, that, by the interest of one of
his friends, he had got my sister into the king’s
seraglio, where she attended a sultana. If I had been
informed of her death, I could not have been more
affected; for, besides that I had no hopes of seeing her
again, her entering into the seraglio had made her a
Mahometan; and she could no more, according to the
prejudice of that religion, regard me but with horror.
However, not being able to live longer at Tefflis, weary
of myself and of life, I returned to Ispahan. My first
words to my father were bitter; I reproached him with
having put his daughter in a place, into which none can
enter without changing their religion. “You have brought
upon your family, said I to him, the wrath of heaven,
and of the sun that lights you: you have done worse than
if you had sullied the elements, since you have defiled
the soul of your daughter, which is not less pure: I
shall die of grief and love, but may my death be the
only punishment that God may make you feel!” At these
words I went out; and, during two years, I passed my
life in looking at the walls of the seraglio, and
considering the part where my sister might be; exposing
myself a thousand times every day to be killed by the
eunuchs, who keep their round about these dreadful
apartments. At last my father died; and the sultana,
whom my sister waited on, observing her beauty increased
every day, became jealous of her, and married her to an
eunuch, who passionately wished for her. By this means
my sister left the seraglio, and took with her eunuch an
house at Ispahan. I was above three months without an
opportunity of speaking to her; the eunuch, the most
jealous of all men, always putting me off with frivolous
excuses. At last, I entered this seraglio, and was
obliged to talk through a latticed window. The eyes of a
lynx could not have discovered her, so hid was she with
her dress and veils; and I only knew her by her voice.
What was my emotion when I saw myself so near her, and
so far from her! I restrained myself, for I was
observed. As to her, it seemed to me that she shed some
tears. Her husband offered to make some trifling
excuses, but I treated him as the most contemptible of
slaves. He was quite confounded, when he found I talked
to my sister in a language unknown to him; this was the
ancient Persic, which is our sacred language. “What, my
sister, said I, is it true that you have renounced the
religion of your fathers? I know that on entering the
seraglio you must have made profession of Mahometism;
but tell me, hath your heart consented like your mouth,
to quit the religion which permits me to love you? And
for whom have you quitted that religion which ought to
be so dear to us? For a wretch yet marked with the
chains he wore; who, if he was a man, would be the last
of mankind.” “My brother, said she, this man of whom you
speak is my husband: I must honour him, all unworthy as
he appears to you; and I should also be the last of
women, if—” “Ah, my sister! interrupted I, you are a
Guebre; he is not your husband, nor can he be; if you
was a believer, like your forefathers, you could not but
regard him as a monster. Alas, said she, at what a
distance does that religion shew itself to me! Scarce
had I known its precepts, when I was obliged to renounce
it. You must observe, that the language I speak is not
very familiar to me, and that I take the utmost pains to
express myself: but be assured, that the remembrance of
our childhood always gives me pleasure; but, since that
time, I have known only false joys; that there hath not
passed a day of my life in which I have not thought of
you; that you have a greater share in my marriage than
you can believe; and that it had not been concluded but
from a hope of seeing you again. But this day, which
hath cost me so much, will yet cost me more! I see you
are quite beside yourself; my husband foams with rage
and jealousy: I shall see you no more; I, without doubt,
speak to you for the last time of my life: if so, my
brother, it will not be long.” At these words she wept;
and finding herself incapable of talking, she left me,
the most disconsolate of all men. Three or four days
after, I desired to see my sister; the barbarous eunuch
would indeed have hindered me; but, besides that these
kind of husbands have not the same authority over their
wives as others, he loved my sister so passionately,
that he knew not how to refuse her any thing. I saw her
again in the same place, and with the same veils,
attended by two slaves, which made me have recourse to
our own language. “My sister, said I, how comes it that
I cannot see you, without finding myself in this
terrible situation? These walls which keep you shut up,
these bolts and iron gates, these miserable attendants
who watch you, put me in a rage. How have you lost that
sweet liberty which your ancestors enjoyed! Your mother,
who was so chaste, did not give herself to her husband
to guard her virtue, but her virtue itself was her
guard: they both lived happy together in mutual
confidence; and the simplicity of their manners was to
them a treasure a thousand times more precious than that
false splendor which you seem to enjoy in this sumptuous
house. In losing your religion you have lost your
liberty, your happiness, and that precious quality which
constitutes the honour of your sex. But what is yet
worse, is, that you are not the wife, for that you
cannot be, but a slave to a slave, who hath been
degraded of manhood. “Ah, my brother! said she, respect
my husband, respect the religion I have embraced;
according to which religion I cannot hear you, nor speak
to you, without guilt.” “What, my sister! cried I, quite
in a transport, do you then believe this religion to be
true?” “Ah, said she, how well would it be for me if it
was not! I have made too great a sacrifice to it, not to
believe in it; and, if my doubts”—At these words she was
silent. “Yes, your doubts, my sister, are well founded,
whatever they are. What can you expect from a religion
which renders you unhappy here in this world, and leaves
you no hope of another? Consider, our religion is the
most ancient in the whole world; that it hath always
flourished in Persia, and hath no other origin but with
that empire, whose beginning is not known; it was
nothing but chance which introduced Mahometism there;
that sect was established there, not by the power of
persuasion, but by that of conquest. If our natural
princes had not been weak, you would have seen the
worship of the ancient Magi flourishing yet. Review
those ages which are passed, every thing informs you of
Magism, and nothing of the Mahometan sect, which, many
thousand of years after, was but then in its infancy.”
“But, said she, though my religion should be of a more
modern date than yours, it is at least more pure, since
it adores none but God; whereas you also adore the sun,
the stars, fire, and even the elements.” “I see, my
sister, that you have learned among the Mussulmans to
calumniate our holy religion. We worship neither the
stars nor the elements, and our fathers never worshipped
them: they never raised temples to them, they never
offered sacrifices to them. They only paid them a
religious worship of an inferior kind, as to the works
and manifestations of the divinity. But, my sister, in
the name of him who enlightens us, receive this sacred
book which I have brought you; it is a book of our
legislator Zoroaster, peruse it without prejudice;
receive in your heart the rays of light, which will
enlighten you as you read it; remember your fathers, who
for so long a time honoured the sun in the city of the
Holy Balk; and lastly, do thou remember me, who hope
neither for ease, happiness, nor life, but from your
change.” There, quite transported, I quitted her, and
left her alone to determine the most important affair
that I could have in my life. I came there again two
days after; I said nothing to her, waiting with silence
the sentence of my life, or of my death. “Thou art
beloved, my brother, said she to me, and by a Guebre. I
have struggled a long time; but, Gods! what difficulties
doth love remove! How relieved am I! I fear nothing now
but loving you too much; I can fix no bounds to my love:
but the excess is lawful. Ah, how well does this suit
the state of my heart! But you who have known how to
break the chains which my mind itself had forged, how
will you break those that tie my hands? From this moment
I give myself to thee; show by the readiness with which
you receive me, how dear this present is to you. My
brother, the first time that I embrace you, I believe I
shall die in your arms.” I can never fully express the
joy I felt at these words: I did believe, and actually
saw myself, in a moment, the most happy of all mankind:
I saw all the wishes which I had been five and twenty
years of my life in forming, nearly accomplished, and
all those uneasinesses vanished, which had rendered my
life so burthensome. But when I had a little enjoyed
these delightful thoughts, I found that I was not so
near my happiness, as I had so hastily imagined within
myself, though I had surmounted the greatest of all
obstacles. The vigilance of her guardians was to be
deceived: I did not dare to confide this secret of my
life with any body; I had nobody but my sister, and she
nobody but me, to consult: if my scheme failed, I ran
the risque of being imprisoned; but I saw no pain more
tormenting than that of miscarrying. We agreed that she
should send to me for a cloak that her father had left
her, and that I should put a file into it, to saw the
lattice of her window, which opened to the street, and a
rope-ladder to descend by, and after that not to visit
her; but that I should walk every night under the
window, to wait till she could execute her design. I
passed fifteen whole nights without seeing any body,
because she had not found a favourable opportunity. At
length, the sixteenth night, I heard a saw at work: from
time to time the work was discontinued, and in those
intervals my fear was inexpressible. After an hour’s
labour I saw her fasten the cord, she then put herself
on it, and slided down into my arms. I thought no more
of danger, and staid some time without moving from
thence; I then conducted her out of the city, where I
had a horse ready; I placed her behind me, and rode with
all the haste possible, from a place which might have
been very fatal to us. We reached, before day, the house
of a Guebre, in a desert place, where he lived retired
by the labour of his hands. Not thinking it proper to
stay with him, by his advice we entered into a thick
forest, and hid ourselves in the hollow of an old oak
tree, till the noise of our flight should be over. We
lived both together in this place, without being seen,
continually repeating how we would always love one
another, waiting an opportunity when some Guebre priest
should perform the ceremony of our marriage, ordered by
our sacred books. “My sister, said I to her, how holy is
this union! Nature hath united us, our holy law will
again unite us. At length a priest came to satisfy our
impatient love; he performed, in the house of a peasant,
the whole marriage ceremony: he blessed us, and wished
us a thousand times all the vigour of Gustaspe, and the
sanctity of Hohoraspe. Soon after we quitted Persia,
where we were not in safety, and retired to Georgia. We
lived there a year, every day more delighted with each
other. But as my money was near expended, and as I
feared the distress of my sister more than of myself, I
left her, to seek some assistance from our relations.
Never was there a parting so tender. But my journey was
not only unprofitable, but fatal: for finding, on one
hand, our whole estate confiscated, on the other, my
relations in a manner incapable of assisting me, I
brought away no more money than was sufficient for my
journey back. But what was my despair at not finding my
sister! Some days before my arrival, the Tartars had
made an incursion into the town where she was; and, as
they found she was beautiful, they took her, and sold
her to some Jews, who were going into Turky, and left
only a little girl, of whom she had been delivered a few
months before. I followed these Jews, and got up to them
three leagues off: my prayers, my tears, were in vain;
they demanded of me thirty tomans for her, and would not
abate one. After I had asked every body, implored the
help of both Christian and Turkish priests, I applied to
an Armenian merchant; sold both my daughter and myself
to him, for five and thirty tomans. I went to the Jews,
paid them thirty tomans, and carried the other five to
my sister, whom I had not yet seen. “Thou art at
liberty, my sister, said I to her, and I may embrace
you; here are five tomans, which I bring you; I am sorry
the sale of myself would fetch no more.” “What! cried
she, are you sold?” “Yes, replied I.” “Ah, unhappy man,
what hast thou done? Was I not miserable enough without
your endeavouring to make me more so? Your liberty
consoled me and your slavery will send me to the grave.
Ah! my brother! how cruel is your love! and where is my
daughter? I have not seen her” “I have sold her also,
said I.” We both melted into tears, and were no more
able to talk. I went afterwards to wait upon my master,
and my sister got there almost as soon as myself: she
fell down upon her knees before my master; “I ask
slavery of you, said she, as others do liberty; take me,
you may sell me at a higher price than my husband.” This
then occasioned a struggle between us, which drew tears
from my master. “Unhappy man! said she, did you think I
would accept of my liberty at the expence of thine? Sir,
behold here two unfortunate persons, who must die if you
separate us. I offer myself to you, pay me, perhaps that
money, and my services, may one day obtain from you what
I dare not ask of you. It is your interest not to
separate us; be assured that his life is at my
disposal.” The Armenian, who was a good tempered man,
was touched with our misfortunes. “Both of you serve me,
said he, with fidelity and zeal, I promise you, that in
a year you shall have your liberty. I see that neither
of you merit the misfortunes of your condition. If, when
at liberty, you should be as happy as you deserve to be,
if fortune should smile upon you, I am certain you will
recompence me for the loss I shall sustain.” We both
embraced his knees, and went the voyage with him. We
mutually assisted each other in the labours of
servitude, and I was always delighted when I had done
that work which belonged to my sister. The end of the
year at length arrived; our master kept his word, and
gave us our liberty. We returned to Tefflis; there I
found an old friend of my father, who practised physic
in that city with success. He lent me some money, with
which I trafficked. Some affairs afterwards called me to
Smyrna, where I settled. I have lived here six years,
and I enjoy here the most delightful and most agreeable
society in the world: unity reigns in my family, and I
would not change my condition for that of all the kings
in the world. I have been so happy as to find out the
Armenian merchant, to whom I owe every thing, and I have
rendered him some considerable services.
Smyrna, the 27th of
the moon of the 1st Gemmadi, 1714.
LETTER LXVIII.
Rica to
Usbek, at * * *.
THE other day I
went to dine with a man of the long robe, by whom I had
been often invited. After we had talked upon a variety
of subjects, I said to him, “Sir, your profession
appears to me to be very troublesome.” “Not so much as
you imagine, answered he, in the manner we conduct it,
it is no more than an amusement.” “But how? Have not you
your head always filled with the affairs of another? Are
not you perpetually busied with affairs that do not
concern you?” “You are right, those affairs do not give
us any concern, because we do not interest ourselves the
least in them; and this is the reason that the
profession is not so fatiguing as you supposed it to
be.” “When I saw he treated the matter with so much
ease, I added, “Sir, I have not yet seen your study.” “I
believe not, for I have none at all. When I took this
office. I wanted money to pay for it; I sold my library;
and the bookseller, who purchased it, out of the great
number of volumes it contained, left me only my account
book. But this gives me no concern: we judges do not
puff ourselves up with useless knowledge. What business
have we with so many volumes of law? Almost all cases
are hypothetical, and out of the general rule.” “But may
not that be, Sir, said I, because you put them out of
the general rule? For, in short, why have all the people
in the world laws, if they do not make use of them? And
how can they be used if they do not know them?” “If you
was but acquainted with the courts of justice, answered
the magistrate, you would not talk in this manner: we
have living books, who are the counsellors, they study
for us, and take upon themselves our instruction.” “And
do not they sometimes take upon themselves to deceive
you? replied I. You would do well to guard yourselves
against their arts. They have arms, with which they
attack your equity, it would be well you had some to
defend it; and not to suffer yourselves to be placed in
the middle of a battle, slightly armed, among men
dressed in armour to the very chin.”
Paris, the 13th of
the moon Chahban, 1714.
LETTER LXIX.
Usbek to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
THOU couldst
never have imagined that I should become a greater
metaphysician than I was; however so it is, and you will
be convinced of it, when you have endured this
inundation of my philosophy. The most sensible
philosophers, who have reflected upon the nature of God,
have declared him to be a being most absolutely perfect;
but they have very greatly abused this idea. They have
enumerated all the different perfections that man is
capable of possessing, or imagining; and with these they
load this idea of the divinity, not considering that
these attributes are frequently opposite to one another,
and that they cannot subsist in the same subject without
destroying themselves. The poets of the west say, that a
painter, desirous to make a portrait of the goodess of
beauty, assembled the handsomest Grecian women, and
selected from each what was most agreeable, of which
several beauties he composed one whole, to resemble the
most beautiful of all the goddesses. If a man from hence
should conclude that she was fair and brown, that she
had black eyes and grey, and that her countenance was
mild and fierce, he would pass for a fool. God often
wants a perfection which would render him very
imperfect: but he is never limited but by himself; he is
his own necessity. Thus, though God is all powerful, he
cannot break his promises, nor deceive man. Very often
too, the inability is not in him, but in relative
things; and this is the reason why he cannot change the
essence of things. So that it is not a matter of wonder,
that some of our divines have dared to deny the infinite
foreknowledge of God; upon this foundation, that it is
incompatible with his justice. As bold as this opinion
may be, there is in metaphysics, what favours it
greatly. According to the principles of that, it is not
possible that God can foresee what depends upon the
determination of free agents: because what hath not
existed, is not in being, and consequently cannot be
known, which having no properties, cannot be perceived:
God cannot read in the will what is not in it, or see in
the soul a thing which is not yet existing in it: for,
till she hath determined, the action which she
determines upon is not in her. The soul is the maker of
her own determination: but there are some circumstances
in which she is so irresolute, that she knows not on
which side to determine. Sometimes she may even do it,
only to make use of her liberty! in such a manner, that
God cannot see this determination beforehand, neither in
the action of the soul, nor in the actions which the
objects make upon her. How then can God foresee those
things which depend upon the determination of free
agents? He could foresee them but in two ways; by
conjecture, which is irreconcileable with infinite
foreknowledge; or otherwise he must see them as
necessary effects, which infallibly follow a cause which
produces them as infallibly; for the soul must be free
upon this supposition; and yet in the act, she would be
no more so than one billiard ball is free to lie still
when it is pushed by another. However, do not think I
would set bounds to the knowledge of God. As he makes
his creature act according to his own mind, he knows all
that he wills to know. But though he can see every
thing, he does not always make use of that power; he
commonly leaves the creature at liberty to act, or not
to act, that he may leave him a power to merit or
demerit: it is for this end then, that he renounces his
right which he hath to act upon her, and to determine
her actions. But when he wills to know any thing he
always knows it; because that he needs only to will that
it happen as he sees it, and to determine his creatures
according to his will. Thus it is, that he brings forth
what shall happen, from a number of things merely
possible, by fixing by his decrees, the future
determinations of the minds of his creatures, and
depriving them of that power which he hath given them to
act, or not to act. If the comparison may be used, with
respect to what is above all comparison, a monarch is
ignorant of what his ambassador will do in a certain
important affair; if he would know it, he need only
order him to act in such a manner; and he may be assured
the thing will happen as he directs. The Koran, and the
books of the Jews, constantly oppose this doctrine of
absolute foreknowledge. God appears there throughout
ignorant of the future determination of human minds; and
it seems that this was the first truth Moses taught
mankind. God places Adam in a terrestrial paradise, upon
condition that he should not eat of a certain fruit: an
absurd command from a being who knew the future
determination of the soul: for in short, could such a
being make that the condition of his favour, without
rendering it ridiculous? It is as if a man who knew of
the taking of Bagdad, should say to another; I will give
you an hundred tomans, if Bagdad is not taken. Would not
this be a very bad jest? My dear Rhedi, why so much
philosophy? God is above, whom we cannot perceive, even
in the clouds. Indeed we have no knowledge of him, but
in his precepts. He is immense, spiritual, infinite.
What his greatness is, we may conclude from our own
weakness. Always to humble ourselves, is always to adore
him.
Paris, the last day
of the moon Chahban, 1714.
LETTER LXX.
Zelis to
Usbek, at
Paris.
SOLIMAN, whom
thou lovest, is driven to despair, by an affront he hath
just received. A giddy-headed young man, called Suphis,
hath been seeking these three months to marry his
daughter; he seemed pleased with her figure, from the
report and description that he had of her, from the
women who had seen her from her infancy; the portion was
agreed on, and every thing passed without any
difficulty. Yesterday, after the first ceremonies, the
maid went on horseback, attended by her eunuch, and
covered according to custom, from head to foot. But,
when she was arrived at the house of her intended
husband, he shut the door, and swore he would never
receive her, unless her fortune was augmented. Her
relations run there from all parts, to accommodate the
matter; and after a good deal of disputing, Soliman
agreed to make his son-in-law a small present. The
ceremonies of the marriage were finished, they conducted
the young woman to bed with a good deal of violence; but
an hour after, this giddy-headed young man got up in a
fury, cut her face in several places, and afferting that
she was not a virgin, sent her back to her father.
Nobody can be more confounded than he is at this injury.
There are many persons who maintain, that his daughter
is innocent. Fathers are very unhappy to be exposed to
such affronts! If my daughter should receive such
treatment, I believe I should die of grief. Farewel.
From the seraglio
at Fatme, the 9th of the moon of the 1st Gemmadi, 1714.
LETTER LXXI.
Usbek to
Zelis.
I AM sorry for
Soliman, and the more, because this distress is without
remedy, and his son-in-law hath done no more than taking
advantage of the power of the law. I think this law is
very hard, thus to expose the honour of a family to the
caprice of a madman. It is easy to say there are certain
signs to know the truth by: it is an old error which we
have now quitted; and our physicians have given
invincible reasons of the uncertainty of these proofs.
There are none even among the Christians, who do not
regard them as chimerical, though they are plainly
established in their sacred books, and though their
antient legislator hath made the innocence, or
condemnation of all their daughters to depend upon them.
I hear with pleasure, the care thou takest of the
education of thine. May her husband find her as
beautiful, and as pure, as Fatima; may she have ten
eunuchs to watch her; may she be the honour and ornament
of the seraglio for which she is decreed; may she always
have gilded cielings over her head, and never walk but
upon rich tapestry! And, to fill up my wishes, may my
eyes see her in all her glory!
Paris the 5th of
the moon Chalval, 1714.
LETTER LXXII.
Rica to
Ibben, at * * *.
THE other day I
was in company, where I saw a man who was highly pleased
with himself. He had decided, in a quarter of an hour,
three questions in morality, four historical problems,
and five points in natural philosophy. I never saw so
universal a decider; his mind was never suspended by the
least doubt. We left the sciences; talked of the news of
the times. He decided the news of the times. I was
willing to catch him, and said to myself, I must get
into my strong fort; I will take refuge in my own
country; I talked to him of Persia; but I had scarce
spoke four words to him, but he contradicted me twice,
upon the authority of Tavernier and Chardin. Hah! said I
to myself, what a man is this here? He will presently
know all the streets in Ispahan better than myself; I
soon determined what part to take; I was silent; I left
him to talk; and he yet decides.
Paris, the 8th of
the moon Zilcade, 1715.
LETTER LXXIII.
Rica to
* * *.
I HAVE
heard much talk of a kind of tribunal, called the French
academy
. There is not in the whole world a tribunal less
respected; for as soon as it makes a decision, the
people break its decrees, and impose on its laws which
it is obliged to follow. Some time since, in order to
fix their authority, they published a code
of their decisions. This babe of so many fathers, was
nearly in its old age when born; and, though legitimate,
a bastard
, who had got into the world before him, was very near
stifling him in the birth. Those who compose this
tribunal, have no other employment but to be continually
a-prating; panegyric, of its own accord, takes place in
their incessant babbling; and as soon as they are
initiated into their mysteries, this fury of panegyric
seizes them, and never more leaves them. This body hath
forty heads, all filled with figures of metaphors and
antitheses; so that their mouths hardly ever open but
with an exclamation; their ears always expect to be
struck with cadence and harmony. As to their eyes, they
are out of the question; these people seem as if they
were made to hear, and not to see. It does not yet stand
firm upon its feet; for time, which is its scourge,
shakes it every moment, and destroys every thing it
doth. Its hands were said formerly to have been griping
; I shall say nothing of this, but leave it to be
decided by those who know more of it than myself. Such
vagaries, * * *, are not to be found in our country. Our
genius does not bend us to such odd singularities: we
always seek after nature in our plain customs and native
manners.
Paris, the 27th of
the moon Zilhage, 1715.
LETTER LXXIV.
Usbek to
Rica, at
* * *.
SOME time ago, a
man of my acquaintance said to me, “I promised to bring
you to the best houses in Paris; I will take you now to
a great lord, who supports his dignity better than any
man in the kingdom.” “What do you mean, Sir? is it that
his behaviour is more polite, more affable than that of
others? “No,” said he. “Oh! I understand; he takes all
opportunities to make every body who comes near him
sensible of his superiority: If it be so, I have no
business to go there: I allow him his whole demand, and
acquiesce in the inferiority he condemns me to.” Yet I
must go there, and I saw a little man, so lofty; he took
a pinch of snuff with so much dignity; he blowed his
nose so unmercifully; he spit with so much phlegm, and
caressed his dogs in a manner so offensive to the
company, that I could not but wonder at him. “Ah, said I
to myself, if, when I was at the court of Persia, I
hehaved so, I behaved like a great fool!” We must, Rica,
have been naturally very bad, to have practised a
hundred little insults towards those people who came
every day to shew their good will to us. They knew very
well our superiority over them; and, if they had been
ignorant of it, the favours we every day conferred on
them, must have convinced them of it. Having no
necessity to do any thing to make ourselves respected,
we did all to render ourselves beloved: we were
accessible to the meanest; amidst those honours, which
commonly harden the heart, they experienced the
sensibility of ours; they found only our souls superior
to them; we descended to their wants. But when it was
necessary to support the dignity of our prince in public
ceremonies, when it was proper to make our nation
respectable to strangers; or lastly, when in cases of
danger it was necessary to animate our soldiers, we
ascended a hundred times higher than we had before
descended; recalled all our dignity into our looks; and
it was found that we sometimes properly represented
ourselves.
Paris, the 10th of
the moon Saphar, 1715.
LETTER LXXV.
Uskek to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
I MUST
needs confess to thee, I have not observed among the
Christians, that lively persuasion of their religion,
that is to be found among the Mussulmans. There is hence
among them a great difference between profession and
belief, between belief and practice. Religion is less a
matter of holiness than of dispute, in which every body
is concerned. Courtiers, soldiers, even the women oppose
themselves against it to the clergy, demanding from them
a proof of what they are determined not to believe. It
is not because they would be determined by reason, and
that they have taken the pains to examine the truth or
falsehood of the religion which they reject; they are
rebels who have felt the yoke, and have shook it off
before they knew what it was. Nor are they better fixed
in their incredulity than in their faith: they live in a
fluctuating state, which leads them continually from one
opinion to another. One of them once said to me, “I
believe the immortality of the soul six months together;
my opinions absolutely depend upon the temperature of my
body; as I have more or less animal spirits, as my
digestion is good or bad, as I breathe a finer or
grosser air, as my food is light, or solid, I am a
spinosist, a socinian, a catholic, an atheist, or a
bigot. When the physician is at my bedside, the
confessor always finds me at his disposal. I know very
well how to hinder religion from distressing me when I
am in health, but I allow it to comfort me when I am
sick: when I have no longer any thing to hope for from
another quarter, religion offers herself to me, and
gains me by her promises: I am very willing to resign
myself to her, and to die on the hopeful side. It is a
long time since the Christian princes set free all the
slaves in their kingdoms; because, say they,
Christianity makes all men equal. It is true, this act
of religion hath been very serviceable to them. They
destroyed, by this means, the power of the nobility, by
which they kept the people in subjection to themselves.
They afterwards made conquest in countries where they
found it was to their advantage to have slaves; they
allowed of buying and selling them; forgetting those
principles of religion, which had so much touched them.
What shall we call this? Truth at one time, error at
another. Why do we not act like Christians? We are very
foolish to refuse settlements, and easy conquests, in
happy climates, because the water is not pure enough to
wash us
, according to the principles of the holy Koran. I
render thanks to the most high, who hath sent Haly, his
great prophet, from whence it is that I profess a
religion which renders itself preferred to all worldly
interest, and which is pure as the heavens, from which
it descended.
Paris, the 13th of
the moon Saphar, 1715.
LETTER LXXVI.
Usbek to his Friend
Ibben, at
Smyrna.
IN Europe the
laws are very severe against self-murderers. They put
them to death, if I may so say, a second time; they are
ignominiously dragged through the streets, marked with
infamy, and their effects confiscated. It seems to me,
Ibben, that these are very unjust laws. When I am loaded
with grief, misery, and contempt, why should I be
restrained from putting an end to my pains, and be
cruelly deprived of a remedy that I have in my power?
Why would they have me labour for a society of which I
consent no longer to be a member? Why to hold, in spite
of myself, a compact made without my agreement? Society
is founded upon mutual advantage; but when it becomes
burthensome to me, what should hinder me from quitting
it? Life was given to me as a favour; I may then return
it, when it is no more so; the cause ceasing, the effect
then ought also to cease. Would a prince desire that I
should be his subject, when I reap none of the
advantages of subjection? Can my fellow-citizens ask
this unequal division of their benefit, and my despair?
Will God, contrary to all other benefactors, condemn me
to accept of favours which oppress me? I am obliged to
obey the laws, whilst I live under the laws, but when I
no longer live under them, can they still bind me? But,
’tis said, you disturb the order of providence. God hath
united your soul to your body, and you separate them;
you then oppose his designs, and you resist his will.
What would they say by this? Do I disturb the order of
providence, when I alter the modifications of matter,
and render square a bowl, which the first laws of
motion, that is to say, the laws of creation and
preservation, have made round? No, without doubt. I do
but use the right which hath been given me; and, in this
sense, I may disturb, according to my fancy, all nature,
without its being said, that I oppose myself to
providence. When my soul shall be separated from my
body, will there be less order, and less regularity in
the universe? Do you believe that this new combination
would be less perfect and less dependent upon the
general laws? That the world can thereby lose any thing?
that the works of God would be less great? or rather
less immense? Do you think that my body, when become a
blade of grass, a worm, a green turf, would be changed
into a work of nature less worthy of her? and that my
soul, disengaged from all its earthy part, would become
less pure? These ideas, my dear Ibben, have no other
source but our pride. We are not at all sensible of our
littleness; and however it may be, we are willing to be
reckoned of consequence in the universe, and to be there
an object of importance. We imagine, that the
annihilation of such a perfect being as ourselves would
degrade all nature; and we do not conceive, that one man
more or less, in the world; what did I say one? all
mankind together, a hundred millions of heads such as
ours, are but one small minute atom, whom God perceives
not but from the immensity of his knowledge.
Paris, the 15th of
the moon Saphar, 1715.
LETTER
LXXVII.
Ibben to
Usbek, at
Paris.
IT appears to
me, my dear Usbek, that to a true Mussulman misfortunes
are not so much chastisements as warnings. Those are
valuable days indeed, which lead us to expiate our
offences. It is the time of prosperity which ought to be
shortened. To what end does all our impatience serve,
but to make us see that we would be happy, independently
of him who bestows happiness, because he is happiness
itself. If a being is composed of two parts, and that
the necessity of preserving their union is the greatest
mark of submission to the decrees of the Creator, this
then may be made a religious law: if this necessity of
preserving that union is a better security of human
actions, it may be made a civil law.
Smyrna, the last
day of the moon Saphar, 1715.
LETTER LXXVIII.
Rica to
Usbek, at ***.
I SEND
thee a copy of a letter, which a Frenchman, who is in
Spain, wrote to his friend here: I believe you will be
pleased to see it.—I have, in six months time, run
through Spain and Portugal; and I have lived among a
people, who despising all others, do the French alone
the honour of hating them. Gravity is the shining
character of these two nations, it shows itself chiefly
there two ways, by spectacles and mustachios. The
spectacles demonstratively show, that he who wears them
is a man consummate in the sciences, and buried in
profound reading, to such a degree as to have impaired
his sight: and every nose that is thus ornamented, or
loaded, may pass, without contradiction, for the nose of
a learned man. As to the mustachio, it is respectable in
itself, and independently of any consequences; though
great benefits have been sometimes drawn from it, for
the service of the king, and the honour of the nation,
as hath been made appear by a famous Portuguese general
in the East-Indies; for, being in want of money, he cut
off one of his mustachios, and sent to demand of the
inhabitants of Goa twenty thousand pistoles upon this
pledge: they very readily accepted it, and he afterwards
honourably redeemed his mustachio. It is easily
conceived that such grave and phlegmatic people as these
may be proud; and so they are. They commonly found it
upon these two considerable points. Those who live upon
the continent of Spain and Portugal, find their hearts
greatly elated, if they are those who are called the Old
Christians; that is to say, not originally descended
from those, who, in the latter centuries were forced by
the inquisition to embrace Christianity. They who live
in the Indies are no less elated, when they consider
that they have the sublime merit to be, as they say, men
with white skins. There never was in the seraglio of the
Grand Signior, a Sultana so proud of her beauty, as the
oldest, great ugly cur born, is of his olive-white
complexion, when in the town of Mexico, sitting at his
door, with his legs crossed. A man of such consequence,
so compleat a creature, would not work for all the
treasures in the world, nor ever persuade himself, by a
vile mechanic industry, to venture the honour and
dignity of his skin. For you must know, that when a man
hath a certain merit in Spain, as for example, when he
can add to the qualities I have been speaking of, that
of being the proprietor of a long sword, or hath learned
of his father the art of making a wretched noise on an
ill tuned guitar, he works no more; his honour is
interested in the repose of his limbs. He who sits still
ten hours a day, acquires exactly one moiety more of
respect than one who rests but five; because honour is
here to be acquired upon a chair. But though these
invincible enemies to labour make a show of
philosophical tranquility, they have yet none in their
heart; for they are always in love. They are the first
men in the world to die languishing under the window of
their mistresses: and every Spaniard who hath not a
cold, cannot pass for a gallant. They are in the first
place bigots, in the next jealous. They take great care
not to venture their wives to the attacks of a soldier
disabled with wounds, or to a decrepid magistrate: but
they will shut them up with a servent novice, who meekly
casts his eyes down to the earth, or a robust
Franciscan, who as devoutly turns them upwards. They
allow their wives to appear with their bosoms naked: but
they will not let their heel be seen, lest they should
be catched by the foot. The rigours of love are
universally admitted to be great; they are much more so
to the Spaniards. The women relieve their pains, but
they only do so to change them; and frequently a long
and troublesome remembrance of an extinguished passion
continues with them. They observe little pieces of
politeness, which in France would appear oddly applied:
for example, a captain never corrects his soldier
without first asking his leave; and the inquisition
never burns a Jew without making an apology to him. The
Spaniards who are not burned appear so fond of the
inquisition, that it would be ill-natured to deprive
them of it. I would only have another erected, not for
heretics, but for heresarchs, who attribute to some
little monkish tricks the same efficacy as to the seven
sacraments, who worship every thing which they should
only reverence: and who are so extremely devout, that
they are hardly Christians. You may meet with wit and
good sense among the Spaniards, but look for neither in
their books. View but one of their libraries, romances
on this side, and school divines on the other; you would
say that they had been made, and collected together, by
some secret enemy to human reason. The only good one of
all their books, is that which was wrote to show the
ridiculousness of all the others. In the new world they
have made immense discoveries and as yet know not their
own continent: they have not yet discovered there what
they have upon their rivers and in their mountains,
nations
unknown to them. They say that the sun rises and sets in
their country: but it may also be said, that, in passing
his course, he reckons only ruined countries, and
deserted lands.—I should not be sorry. Usbek, to see a
letter written at Madrid by a Spaniard who had travelled
in France; I believe he might thoroughly revenge himself
on this nation. What a vast field for a phlegmatic
pensive man! I imagine he would commence the description
of Paris in this manner: here is a house in which mad
folks are put; it might at first thought be expected
larger than the whole city; no: the remedy is
insufficient for the malady. Doubtless the French,
extremely despised by their neighbours, shut up some
madmen in this house, that it may be thought that those
who are at liberty are not such.—There I leave my
Spaniard. Farewel, my dear Usbek.
Paris, the 17th of
the moon Saphar, 1715.
LETTER LXXIX.
The Chief black
Eunuch to Usbek, at
Paris.
SOME Armenians,
yesterday, brought to the seraglio a young Circassian
slave, whom they desired to sell. I made her enter the
private apartments, there I undressed her, I examined
her with the eyes of a judge, and the more I observed
her, the more beauties I discovered. A virgin modesty
seemed to conceal them from my view; I saw how much it
cost her to submit; she blushed at seeing herself naked,
even before me, who, exempt from those passions which
might alarm her modesty, am unmoved under the empire of
that sex; and who, the minister of modesty, in the
freest actions, bring only chaste looks, and can inspire
nothing but innocence. From the moment I judged her
worthy of thee, I bent my eyes downwards; I threw a
scarlet mantle over her; I put upon her finger a ring of
gold; I prostrated myself at her feet; I adored her as
the queen of thy heart. I paid the Armenians; I shut her
up from every eye. Happy Usbek, thou possessest greater
beauties than are enclosed in all the palaces of the
east. What pleasure to thee, to find at thy return, all
that Persia hath most delightful! and to see in thy
seraglio all the graces re-born, as fast as time and
possession labour their destruction.
From the seraglio
at Fatme, the 1st of the moon of the 1st Rebiab, 1715.
LETTER LXXX.
Usbek to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
SINCE I have
been in Europe, Rhedi, I have seen a variety of
governments. It is not here as in Asia, where the rules
of policy are every where found the same. I have often
enquired which government is most conformable to reason.
It appears to me, that the most perfect is that which
arrives at its end with the least difficulty; of this
kind, that which leads men in a way which best suits
their disposition, is the most perfect. If under a mild
government, the subjects are as obedient as under a
severe one; the first is preferable, because it is most
conformable to reason, and because severity is a foreign
motive. Be assured, Rhedi, that in a state, punishments,
more or less cruel, do not procure greater obedience to
the laws. In a country where chastisements are moderate,
they are as much dreaded as in those where they are
tyrannical and dreadful. Let the government be mild, let
it be cruel, the punishment is always gradual; the
punishment inflicted is greater or less, as the crime is
greater or less. The imagination conforms itself to the
manners of the country in which we live: eight days
imprisonment, or a lighter punishment, affects the mind
of an European, brought up under a mild government, as
much as the loss of an arm intimidates an Asiatic. Men
affix a certain degree of fear to a certain degree of
punishment, and each makes the distribution in his own
way: a Frenchman shall be driven to despair at the
infamy of a punishment to which he is condemned, which
would not deprive a Turk of his sleep for one quarter of
an hour. Besides, I do not observe that policy, justice,
and equity, are better observed in Turky, Persia, or
under the Mogul, than in the republicks of Holland,
Venice, and even in England: I do not find that less
crimes are committed in the former countries, or that
men intimidated by severe punishments are more
submissive to the laws. I have, on the contrary,
remarked, a foundation for injustice and distress in the
midst of the very same states. I have even found the
prince, who is himself the law, less master than in any
other state. I observe, that these times of rigour have
always been attended with tumultuous commotions, in
which nobody is chief; and that, when once a violent
authority is despised, there remains no longer
sufficient power with any per on to restore it. That the
very despair of impunity strengthens the disturbance,
and renders it greater. That, in such states, they never
make a flight revolt; and that there never is any
interval between murmurings and insurrections. That
there is no necessity that great events should there be
prepared for by great causes; on the contrary, a great
revolution hath been produced by the least accident,
often also as unforeseen by those who effected it, as by
those who suffered from it. When Osman, emperor of the
Turks, was deposed, each of those concerned in that
attempt thought nothing of what they effected: they
demanded only, in a supplicant manner, that they might
have justice done with regard to a particular grievance:
a voice, that none had ever known, from among the
multitude pronounced, by accident, the name of Mustapha,
and immediately Mustapha was emperor.
Paris, the 2d of
the moon of the 1st Rebiab, 1715.
LETTER LXXXI.
Nargum, Envoy from
Persia in
Muscovy, to
Usbek at
Paris.
OF all the
nations in the world, Usbek, there is not one that hath
exceeded the Tartars, in glory, or in the greatness of
their conquests. This nation is truly the Lord of the
universe: all others seem made to serve it: it is alike
the sounder and destroyer of empires: in all ages it
afforded the world marks of its power; in all ages it
hath been the scourge of nations. The Tartars have twice
conquered China, and to this time keep it in subjection
to them. They rule those vast countries which form the
empire of the Mogul. Master of Persia, they sit upon the
throne of Cyrus and Gustaspes. They have subdued
Muscovy. Under the name of Turks, they have made immense
conquests in Europe, Asia, and Africa, and they reign
over these three parts of the universe. And, to speak of
more remote times, it was from them that issued forth
some of those people who overturned the Roman empire.
What are the conquests of Alexander, in comparison to
those of Genghiscan? This victorious nation hath only
wanted historians, to celebrate the memory of its
marvellous achievements. What immortal actions have been
buried in oblivion! What empires founded by them, of
whose original we are ignorant! This warlike nation,
wholly taken up with her present glory, sure of conquest
at all times, never thought of signalizing herself in
time to come, by the remembrance of her past conquests.
LETTER LXXXII.
Rica to
Ibben, at Smyrna.
THOUGH the
French talk much, there is yet among them a kind of mute
dervises, called Carthusians. It is said, that they cut
out their tongues at their admittance into the convent;
and it is much to be wished, that all the other dervises
would retrench, in the same manner, every thing that
their profession renders useless to them. Now I am
mentioning these silent people, there are some much more
remarkable than they, and who have a very extraordinary
talent: These are such as know how to talk without
saying any thing; and who support a conversation two
hours together, without its being possible to discover
their meaning, to retale what they say, nay, to retain
one word of what they have been talking. These kind of
people are adored by the women; but not so much as some
others, who have received from nature the amiable talent
of smiling at proper times, that is, every moment, and
who assume the grace of a pleasing approbation for every
thing that comes from the ladies. But these are high
accomplished wits, who can discover a fine thought in
every thing, and find out a thousand little ingenious
strokes in the most common discourse. I know others, who
are so happy as to introduce into their conversation
things inanimate, and to make their embroidered coat,
their white peruke, their snuff-box, their cane, and
their gloves, speak for them. It is a good way to begin
in the street to make one’s self heard by the rattling
of a coach, or by the loud thunder of a knocker at the
door: this prologue gives a prepossession in favour of
the rest of the discourse; and when the introduction is
good, it renders all the folly that follows afterwards
supportable, but which, by good fortune, arrives too
late. I can assure thee that these little talents, which
are made of no value to us, are of great use here to
those who are so happy as to possess them; and a man of
good sense shines not at all among such people.
Paris, the 6th of
the moon of the 2d Rabiab, 1715.
LETTER LXXXIII.
Usbek to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
IF there be a
God, Rhedi, he must necessarily be just; if he was not
such, he would be the worst and most imperfect of all
beings. Justice is a relation of congruity which really
subsists between two things: this relation is always the
same, whatever being considers it, whether it be God, or
an angel, or lastly a man. It is true, men do not always
see these relations: often indeed, when they do see
them, they deviate from them; and their interest is
always what they see best. Justice raises her voice, but
it is with difficulty she makes herself heard amidst the
tumult of the passions. Men may do injustice, because it
is their interest to commit it, and because they prefer
their own private satisfaction to that of others. It is
always with a view to themselves that they act: nobody
is wicked for nothing; he must have some reason that
determines him; and this reason is always a reason of
interest. But it is impossible that God should ever
commit any injustice: from the instant that we suppose
he sees justice, it must necessarily be that he follows
it: for, as he hath no want of any thing, and is
all-sufficient in himself, he would be the most wicked
of all beings, because he would be such without gaining
any thing. Thus, though there was no God, we ought
always to love justice; that is, we should endeavour to
resemble that being, of whom we have so amiable an idea,
and who, if he exists, must necessarily be just. Though
we should be free from the yoke of religion, we ought
not to be so from that of equity. This it is, Rhedi,
that makes me believe that justice is eternal, and
depends not upon human compacts. And, if it was
dependent upon them, it would be a terrible truth, which
should be concealed even from ourselves. We are
surrounded by men stronger than we are; they can injure
us in a thousand different ways; three times in four
they might do it with impunity. What a satisfaction to
us, to know that there is in them, in the heart of all
these men, an inward principle which fights in our
favour, and secures us from their attempts? If it was
not for this, we should be in continual fear; we should
pass by men as by lions, and we should not be assured
one moment of our goods, honour, and life. All these
considerations make me angry at those doctors, who
represent God as a being who exercises his power with
tyranny; who make him act in a manner that we ourselves
would not, for fear of offending him; who charge him
with all those imperfections that he punishes in us,
and, by their contradictory opinions, represent him as
an evil being, by and by as a being who hates evil, and
punishes it. When a man searcheth himself, what a
satisfaction is it to him to find that he hath a just
heart! This pleasure, as severe as it is, must delight
him: he beholds himself a being as much above those who
have not such a consciousness, as he sees himself
superior to tygers and bears. Yes, Rhedi, if I was sure
always to pursue, inviolably, that equity that I have
before my eyes, I should think myself the first of
mankind.
Paris, the 1st of
the moon of the 1st Gemmadi, 1715.
LETTER LXXXIV.
Rica to
* * *.
YESTERDAY I was
at the hospital of the Invalids: I had rather have
founded that establishment, if I was a prince, than have
gained three battles. In every part of it there appears
the hand of a great monarch. I think that it is the most
respectable place in the world. What a fight to see
assembled in one place all the victims of their country,
who only breathed for its defence; and who, still
finding the same heart, but not the same power, only
bewail themselves for the inability they are under, of
sacrificing themselves again for their country. What can
be more pleasing, than to see these disabled warriors,
observing in this retreat as exact a discipline as if
they were in fear of the presence of an enemy, taking
their last satisfaction in this picture of the war, and
dividing their hearts and minds between the duties of
religion, and those of the military art! I would have
the names of those who die for their country preserved
in temples, and written in registers, that should be, as
it were, the foundation of glory and nobility.
Paris, the 15th of
the moon of the 1st Gemmadi, 1715.
LETTER LXXXV.
Usbek to
Mirza, at
Ispahan.
THOU knowest,
Mirza, that some of the ministers of Cha Soliman, had
formed a design to oblige all the Armenians in Persia to
quit the kingdom, or to embrace Mahometism, from a
conceit that our empire would be always defiled as long
as she protected these infidels in her bosom. This had
finished the Persian greatness, if, on this occasion,
blind devotion had been listened to. It is unknown how
this affair failed. Neither those who made the proposal,
nor those who rejected it, were sensible of the
consequences: chance did the office of reason and
policy, and saved the empire from a greater danger than
it would have gone through from the loss of a battle and
of two cities. By banishing the Armenians, it is
supposed they would have rooted out, at once, all the
traders, and very near all the artificers in the
kingdom. I am certain that the great Chah-Abbas would
rather have cut off both his arms, than have signed such
an order; and he would have been of opinion, that by
thus sending to the Mogul, and the other kings of the
Indies, the most industrious of his subjects, he had
given them half his dominions. The persecution which our
Mahometan zealots exercised against the Guebres, obliged
them to remove in multitudes into the Indies: and
deprived Persia of that people, so much given to
tillage, and who alone, by their industry, were in a way
to get the better of the sterility of our lands. There
remained but one thing more for bigotry to do, that was,
to destroy industry; and then the empire had fallen of
itself, and with it, as a necessary consequence, that
very religion it wanted to render so flourishing. If we
could reason without prejudice, I know not, Mirza, but
it may be good for a state, that there should be several
religions in it. It is observable, that the members of
the tolerated religions commonly make themselves more
useful to their country, than those of the established
religion; because, being excluded from all honours, they
can only render themselves considerable by their
opulence; they are led to acquire it by their industry,
and to embrace the most toilsome employments in the
society. Besides, as all religions contain precepts
useful to society, it is good that they should be
observed with zeal. Now what is there more capable of
animating this zeal than a multiplicity of religions?
They are rivals who never forgive any thing. This
jealousy descends to individuals: each keeps upon his
guard, and is cautious of doing any thing that may
dishonour his party, and expose it to the contempt and
unforgiving censures of the opposite party. Accordingly
it hath always been observed that a new fect introduced
into the state, hath been the most certain means of
reforming all the abuses of the old one. It signifies
nothing to say, that it is not the prince’s interest to
permit several religions in his kingdom. Tho’ all the
sects in the world were to get together in it, it would
not be any prejudice to it; for there is not one which
doth not enjoin obedience, and that doth not preach up
submission. I acknowledge that history is full of
religious wars; but we must take care to observe, it was
not the multiplicity of religions that produced these
wars, it was the intolerating spirit which animated that
which thought she had the power of governing. It was the
spirit of proselytism, which the Jews contracted from
the Egyptians, and which from them hath passed, like an
epidemic and popular disease, to Mahometans and
Christians. It is, in short, the spirit of enthusiasm,
the progress of which can be considered only as a total
eclipse of human reason. For indeed if there was nothing
of inhumanity in forcing the conscience of another,
though there did not arise from it any of those bad
effects which spring from it by thousands, it would be
folly to advise it. He who would have me change my
religion, no doubt, desires me to do so, because he
would not change his own if he was forced to it: he yet
thinks it strange, that I will not do a thing which he
himself would not do, perhaps, for the empire of the
world.
Paris, the 26th of
the moon of the first Gemmadi, 1715.
LETTER LXXXVI.
Rica to
* * *.
IT seems as if
every family here governed itself separately. The
husband hath only the shadow of an authority over his
wife, the father over his children, and the master over
his slaves. The law interferes in all differences, and
you may be sure, that it is always against a jealous
husband, a peevish father, or an ill-tempered master.
The other day I went to the court where justice is
administered. Before I could arrive there, I was obliged
to suffer the attacks of a prodigious number of young
shop-women, who invite you with a deceitful voice. This
sight at first is diverting enough, but it becomes
melancholy, when you enter the great halls where you see
none but persons whose dress is even more solemn than
their countenances. At length you come into the sacred
place, where all the secrets of families are revealed,
and where the most private transactions are brought into
open light. Here a modest girl comes to confess the
torments of a virginity too long preserved, her
struggles, and her sorrowful resistance; she is so
little proud of her victory, that threatened every
moment with an approaching defeat; and that her father
may be no longer ignorant of her wants, she exposes them
to every body. Next comes an impudent wife to publish
the insults she hath committed against her husband, as a
reason to be separated from him. Another, with equal
modesty, says she is weary of bearing the title of wife,
without the enjoyments of one; she reveals the hidden
mysteries of the marriage night; she desires to be put
under the inspection of the most able artists, and by a
decree to be re-established in all the rights of
virginity. There are even some who dare desy their
husbands, and challenge them to a public trial, which
witnesses renders so difficult; a trial as disgraceful
to the wife who stands to it, as to the husband who is
cast by it. A vast number of girls, ravished or
debauched, represent mankind much worse than they are.
This court echoes with love, there no talk is heard but
of enraged fathers, abused daughters, faithless lovers,
and discontented husbands. By the law observed here,
every child born in wedlock is counted the husband’s: he
may have good reasons to believe it is not his; the law
believes it for him; and frees him from his scruples and
examination. In this tribunal they follow the majority
of voices; but they say it hath been found by
experience, that it would be the surer way to determine
by the minority; and this is natural enough; for there
are very few just reasoners, and all the world agrees
that there is a very great number of false ones.
Paris, the first of
the moon of the 2d Gemmadi, 1715.
LETTER LXXXVII.
Rica to
* * *.
MAN, they
say, is a sociable animal. In this respect, the French
appear to me to be more men than others: they may be
called men by way of excellence; for they seem to be
only made for society. But I have observed among them,
persons who are not only sociable, but who are
themselves an universal society. They multiply
themselves in every corner; they people, in an instant,
the four quarters of the town: a hundred men of this
fort make a greater shew than two thousand citizens.
They might repair, in the eyes of a stranger, the
devastation made by a plague or famine. It is a question
in the schools, whether the same body can be at one
instant in several places: these men are a proof of what
the philosophers propose as a doubt. These men are
always in haste, as they have upon their hands the
important business of asking every body they meet—where
they are going—and where they have been. You can never
put it out of their heads, but that it is a part of good
breeding to visit the public every day, separately,
exclusive of the visits they make in general, at places
where every body meet; but as this is too short a way,
it is reckoned as nothing in the rules of their
ceremonial. They injure the doors more with knocking at
them, than the winds and storms. If all the porters
visiting lists were to be examined, their names would be
found every day mangled a thousand ways in Swiss
scrawls. They pass their lives in attending funerals,
compliments of condolance, or in matrimonial
congratulations. The King never confers a favour on any
of his subjects, that it does not put them to the
expence of a carriage to go and wish the party joy. At
last they return home, vastly fatigued, to rest
themselves, that they may be able the next day to resume
their tiresome employment. The other day one of them
died of weariness, and this epitaph was put upon his
tomb.—Here is a man at rest who never rested before. He
walked at five hundred and thirty burials. He made
himself merry at the birth of two thousand six hundred
and fourscore children. The pensions on which he
congratulated his friends, always in different terms,
amounted to two millions six hundred thousand livres;
the ground he walked in town, to nine thousand six
hundred furlongs; his walks in the country to
thirty-six. His conversation was pleasing; he had a fund
ready made, of three hundred sixty five stories: he
possessed besides, from his youth, an hundred and
eighteen apothegms collected from the ancients, which he
made use of upon extraordinary ocsions. He at last died,
in the sixtieth year of his age. I hold my tongue,
passenger, for when should I finish telling thee every
thing that he said, and every thing that he saw?
Paris, the 3d of
the moon of the 2d Gemmadi, 1715.
LETTER LXXXVIII.
Usbek to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
AT Paris,
liberty and equality reign. Birth, virtue, nor even
military service, how great soever it may be, do not
distinguish a man from the croud in which he is
confounded. Jealousy about rank is unknown here. They
say the first person in Paris is he who hath the best
horses in his chariot. A great man is he who sees the
king, who talks with the ministers, hath ancestors,
debts, and pensions. If he can, with all this, hide his
idleness by an air of business, or a feigned attachment
to his pleasures, he esteems himself the happiest of all
mankind. In Persia, no person is reckoned great, but
such on whom the monarch confers some part of his
government. Here, there are persons who are great by
their birth, but without interest. Kings act like those
able artificers, who, to execute their works, always
make use of the plainest tools. Favour is the great
divinity of the French; the minister is the high priest,
who offers her many victims: those who attend upon her
are not dressed in white; sometimes the sacrificers, and
sometimes the sacrifices devote even themselves to their
idol, with the whole nation.
Paris, the 3d of
the moon of the 2d Gemmadi, 1715.
LETTER LXXXIX.
Usbek to
Ibben, at
Smyrna.
A THIRST after
glory is not different from instinct, which every
creature hath for its own preservation. We seem to
extend our existence, when we can make it to be
remembered by others; this is a new life which we
acquire, and which becomes as precious to us as that
which we received from heaven. But as all men are not
equally fond of life, neither are they equally sensible
to glory. This noble passion is indeed always engraved
upon their hearts; but imagination and education mould
it a thousand ways. This difference, which is founded
between man and man, is more perceivable between nation
and nation. It may be laid down as a maxim, that, in
every state, the desire of glory increases with the
liberty of the subjects, and diminishes with it: glory
is never the companion of slavery. A sensible man said
to me, the other day; we are in France, in many
respects, more free than you are in Persia; and
therefore, here there is a greater love of glory. This
happy delusion makes a Frenchman do with pleasure and
inclination what your sultan obtains only from his
slaves, by continually setting before their eyes rewards
and punishments. Therefore, among us, the prince is
jealous for the honour of the meanest of his subjects.
There are for the support of it, the most respectable
tribunals; this is the sacred treasure of the nation,
and the only one of which the sovereign is not master;
for he could not be so without acting against his own
interest. So that when a subject finds himself injured
in his honour by his prince, either by an unjust
preference, or by the smallest mark of contempt, he
quits immediately his court, his employment, and his
service, and retires to his estate. The difference
between the French troops and yours is, that the one,
composed of slaves, naturally cowards, only surmount the
fear of death by that of punishment; which railes in the
soul a new kind of terror, which renders them
insensible: instead of which the others present
themselves to dangers with delight, and banish fear, by
a satisfaction which is superior to it. But the
sanctuary of honour, reputation, and virtue, seems to be
seated in republics, and in those states where the word
country may be pronounced. At Rome, at Athens, at
Lacedęmon, honour was the only payment for the most
signal services. A crown of oak, or laurel, a statue, or
an inscription, was an immense recompence for a battle
won, or a city taken. There a man who had performed a
brave action, found himself sufficiently recompensed by
the action itself. He could not behold one of his
countrymen, without being sensible of the pleasure of
having been his benefactor he reckoned the number of his
services by that of his fellow-citizens. Every man is
capable of doing good to another; but it is being like
to God, to contribute to the happiness of a whole
society. But must not this noble emulation be wholly
extinct in the heart of your Persians, among whom
employments and honours are only derived from the
caprice of the sovereign? Reputation and virtue are
there only considered as imaginary, if not accompanied
by the favour of the prince, with which alone they
spring up, and die. A man who enjoys the public esteem,
is never sure that he shall not be dishonoured the next
day. You see him to day the general of an army; it may
be the next the prince makes him his cook, and leaves
him no other praise to hope for, but that of having made
a good ragout.
LETTER XC.
Usbek to the same, at
Smyrna.
FROM this
general passion which the French nation have for glory,
there is sprung up in the minds of the people, a
certain—I know not what, which they call a point of
honour: this is properly the character of every
profession, but more remarkable in the men of the sword;
and among them it is the point of honour by way of
excellence. It will be very difficult to me to make thee
understand what this is, because we have not a right
idea of it. The French, formerly, especially the
nobility, followed scarcely any other laws than those of
this point of honour: they regulated the whole conduct
of their lives; and they were so strict, that they could
not, without suffering what was worse than death, I do
not say infringe, but not even elude, the least
punctilio of them. When they had occasion to settle any
difference, they seldom prescribed more than one method
to decide it, that was by duel, which cut off all
difficulties. But what was the worst part of it, was,
that frequently the trial was made between other parties
besides those who were interested in the affair. How
little soever a person might know another, he was
obliged to enter into the dispute, and to expose his
person in the same manner as if he himself was in anger.
Such a one always thought himself honoured by the
choice, and so flattering a distinction: one, who would
not have been willing to give four pistoles to a man to
save him and all his family from the gibbet, would make
no difficulty to run the risque of his life for him a
thousand times. This manner of decision was badly enough
contrived; for if one was more dextrous, or stronger
than another, it does not follow that he had more reason
on his side. Therefore the kings have forbidden it under
very severe penalties; but this is in vain: honour,
which will always reign, rebels, and will acknowledge no
laws. So that the French are in a great state of
violence: for these laws of honour oblige a well-bred
man to revenge himself when he hath been affronted; but
on the other hand, justice punishes him with the
severest penalties when he hath done so. If men follow
the laws of honour, they die upon a scaffold; if those
of justice, they are banished for ever from the society
of men: there is then only this cruel alternative,
either to die, or to be unworthy to live.
Paris, the 18th of
the moon of the 2d Gemmadi, 1715.
LETTER XCI.
Usbek to
Rustan, at
Ispahan.
A PERSON hath
appeared here who hath travested the character of an
ambassador from Persia; who insolently ridicules the two
greatest kings in the world. He brings to the French
monarch presents which ours would not offer to a king of
Irimetta or Georgia: and by his base avarice he hath
disgraced two empires. He hath made himself contemptible
before a people who pretend to be the politest in
Europe: and hath given occasion to have it said in the
West, that the king of kings reigns over none but
barbarians. He hath received honours which he seemed to
wish had been denied him: and, as if the court of France
had had the Persian grandeur more at heart than himself,
she hath made him appear with dignity before a people
whose contempt he is. Do not tell this at Ispahan; spare
the head of an unhappy wretch. I am not willing that our
minister should punish him for their own imprudence, and
the unworthy choice which they have made.
Paris, the last day
of the moon of the 2d Gemmadi, 1715.
LETTER XCII.
Usbek to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
THE
monarch who reigned so long, is no more
. He made many people talk of him during his life: all
the world is silent at his death. Firm and courageous to
the last moment, he seemed to submit only to destiny.
Thus died the great Cha-Abas, after having filled the
whole earth with his name. Do not imagine that this
great event hath only given occasion to moral
reflections. Every one thought of his own affairs, and
to take his advantage of this change. The king, great
grandson to the deceased monarch, being but five years
old, a prince, his uncle, hath been declared regent of
the kingdom. The late king made a will, which limited
the power of the regent. This wise prince went to the
parliament, and, there laying before them all the
prerogatives of his birth, he made them break the
regulations of the monarch, who, desirous to survive
himself, seemed to have claimed the power of governing,
even after his death: The parliaments resemble those
ruins which we tread under foot, but which always recal
to our mind the idea of some temple famous for the
ancient religion of the people. They seldom now
interfere in any thing more than in affairs of justice;
and their authority will continually decline, unless
that some unforeseen event should arrive, to restore
life and strength to it. These great bodies have
followed the common course of human affairs: they
yielded to time, which destroys every thing, to the
corruption of manners, which hath weakened every thing,
to the supreme, which hath overturned all things. But
the regent, who wished to render himself agreeable to
the people, seemed at first to respect this shadow of
public liberty; and, as if he had an intention to raise
from the ground the temple and the idol, he was willing
that they should regard it as the support of monarchy,
and the foundation of all legal authority.
Paris, the 4th of
the moon Rhegeb, 1715.
LETTER XCIII.
Usbek to his Brother, Santon
in the Monastery of Casbin.
I HUMBLE myself
before thee, sacred Santon, and prostrate myself upon
the earth: I regard the prints of thy footsteps as the
apple of my eye. Thy sanctity is so great, that it
seemeth as if thou hadst the heart of our holy prophet;
thy austerities astonish even heaven itself: the angels
have beheld thee from the summit of glory, and have
cried out, how can he yet be upon earth, when his spirit
is with us, and flies about the throne which is
supported by the clouds? How then can I but honour thee;
I who have learned from our doctors, that the dervises,
even the infidel ones, have always a sacred character,
which renders them respectable to true believers; and
that God hath chosen to himself, out of every part of
the earth, some souls more pure than others, whom he
hath separated from the wicked world, to the end that
their mortifications and fervent prayers may suspend his
wrath, ready to fall upon so many rebellious people? The
Christians tell wonders of their first Santons, who took
sanctuary by thousands in the frightful deserts of
Thebais, and had for their chiefs, Paul, Anthony, and
Pacomus. If what they say of them be true, their lives
were as full of prodigies as those of our most sacred
Imaums. They sometimes passed ten entire years without
seeing a single person: but they dwelt night and day
with dęmons; they were continually tormented by these
evil spirits; they found them in their beds, at their
tables, they never had any place of security from them.
If all this be true, venerable Santon, it must be
acknowledged that no person ever lived in worse company.
The more sensible Christians regard all these accounts
only as a natural allegory, which serves to make us
sensible of the miserable state of humanity. In vain do
we seek in deserts for a state of ease; temptations
follow us every where; our passions, represented by the
dęmons, never wholly quit us: these monsters of the
heart, these illusions of the mind, these vain phantoms
of error and falsehood, appear continually to us, to
mislead us, and attack us even in our fasts and
hair-cloths, that is, even in our greatest strength. For
my part, venerable Santon, I know that the messenger of
God hath chained Satan, and precipitated him into the
abyss: he hath purified the earth, formerly filled with
his power, and hath rendered it worthy of the abode of
his angels and prophets.
Paris, the 9th of
the moon Chahban, 1715.
LETTER XCIV.
Usbek to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
I NEVER heard
any body talk of the law of nations, but he carefully
begun with inquiring into the origin of society; which
appears ridiculous to me. If men did not form themselves
into societies, if they avoided and fled from each
other, it would be right to ask the reason, and to
inquire why they kept themselves separate: but they are
born all united to one another, a son is born near his
father, and there he continues; here is society and the
cause of it. The law of nations is better understood in
Europe than in Asia, yet it must be acknowledged, that
the passions of princes, the patience of nations, the
flattery of authors, have corrupted all the principles
of it. This law, as it is at present, is a science which
teaches princes to what degree they may violate justice
without hurting their own interest. What a knavish
distinction this! Rhedi, to harden their consciences, by
reducing iniquity to a science, by giving rules for it,
by settling the principles of it, and drawing
consequences from them! The unlimited power of our
sublime sultans, which hath no rule but itself, doth not
produce more monsters than this base art, which can make
justice bend, all inflexible as it is. It seems, Rhedi,
there are two kinds of justice entirely different, one
which regulates the affairs of private persons, which
reigns in the civil law; another which regulates the
differences that arise between people and people, which
tyrannizes in the law of nations: as if the law of
nations was not a civil law, not indeed of a particular
country, but of the world. I shall in another letter
explain my thoughts further to thee upon this subject.
Paris, the 1st of
the moon Zilhage, 1716.
LETTER XCV.
Usbek to the Same.
THE magistrates
ought to administer justice between citizen and citizen,
every nation ought to do the same between themselves and
another nation. In this second distribution of justice,
no other maxims ought to be employed but those in the
first. For nation and nation there is seldom need of a
third to judge between them, because the subjects of
their disputes are for the most part always plain and
easy to be determined. The interests of the two nations
are generally so separate, that nothing more is
necessary but a love of justice to find it out; they can
scarcely mistake the proper cause. It is not the same
with the differences that happen between private
persons. As they live in society, their interests are so
mixed and so confounded, and there are so many different
kinds of them, that it is necessary for a third person
to clear up what the covetousness of the parties
endeavour to obscure. There are but two kinds of just
wars: one which is waged to repulse the attack of an
enemy, the other to succour an ally who is attacked. It
would not be justice to enter into a war upon the
private quarrel of a prince; unless the case was so
heinous as to merit the death of the prince or the
people who committed it. Thus, a prince should not
engage in a war because he hath been refused an honour
which was his right, or for any unsuitable demeanor
towards his ambassadors, and such similar cases; no more
than a private person ought to kill him who refuses him
precedency. The reason is this, as a declaration of war
ought to be an act of justice, wherein the punishment
should always be in proportion to the fault, it should
be inquired whether the party against whom war is
declared merits death. For to make war against any
person, is to be willing to punish him with death. In
the law of nations the severest act of justice is war,
since the effect of it is the destruction of society.
Reprisals are of the second degree. To proportion the
punishment to the offence, is a law which no tribunals
could ever avoid observing. The third act of justice, is
to deprive a prince of the advantages that he might
derive from us, always proportioning the punishment to
the offence. The fourth act of justice which ought to be
the most frequent, is the renunciation of the alliance
of a people against whom we have reason to complain.
This punishment answers to that of banishment, appointed
by courts of justice, to cut off delinquents from the
community. Thus a prince, whose alliance we renounce, is
cut off from our society, and is no longer one of its
members. A greater affront cannot be done to a prince
than to renounce his alliance, nor a greater honour than
to contract one with him. There is nothing among men,
that can be more honourable, or more useful to mankind,
than to be always attentive to their preservation. But
that the alliance may be binding it must be just; so
that an alliance concluded between two nations to
oppress a third is not lawful, and may be broke without
a fault. It is not suitable to the honour and dignity of
a prince to ally himself to a tyrant. An Egyptian
monarch once remonstrated to a king of Samos, upon his
cruelty and tyranny, and called upon him to amend; as he
did not, he sent him word that he renounced his
friendship and alliance. Conquest of itself gives no
right. When a society subsists, it is a security for
peace and for reparation of injuries; and if it is
destroyed, or dispersed, it is a monument of tyranny.
Treaties of peace are so sacred among men, that they
seem as if they were the dictates of nature, which
reclaims its rights. They are always lawful, when the
conditions of them are such, that both parties may
preserve themselves: without which that of the two
societies which would perish, deprived of its natural
defence by peace, may seek it by war. For nature, which
hath established different degrees of strength and
weakness among men, hath yet often made weakness equal
to strength, by despair. This, Rhedi, is what I call the
civil law; the law of nations, or rather the law of
reason.
Paris, the 4th of
the moon Zilhage, 1716.
LETTER XCVI.
The Chief Eunuch to
Usbek at
Paris.
THERE are a
great many yellow women arrived here, from the kingdom
of Visapour: I have bought one for thy brother, the
governor of Mazenderan, who, about a month ago, sent me
his sublime commands, and a hundred tomans. I understand
women the better, because they do not surprize me, and
my eyes are not troubled by the motions of the heart. I
have never seen so regular and perfect a beauty: her
sparkling eyes enliven her face, and heighten the lustre
of a complexion, capable of eclipsing all the beauties
of Circassia. The chief eunuch of a merchant of Ispahan
treated with me for her; but she disdainfully avoided
his sight, and seemed to court mine, as if she would
have told me, that a mean merchant was unworthy of her,
and that she was destined for a more illustrious
husband. I confess to thee, I feel a secret joy within
myself, when I think of the charms of this beautiful
person: I fancy I see her entering into the seraglio of
thy brother; I please myself with a foresight of the
astonishment of all his wives; the haughty grief of
some; the silent, yet more mournful, distress of others;
the malicious pleasure of those who have nothing further
to hope for, and the enraged ambition of those who yet
have hope. I am travelling from one end of the kingdom
to another, entirely to change the face of the seraglio;
what passions am I going to provoke; what fears and
troubles am I preparing! Yet notwithstanding all this
inward distress, there shall not be less outward
tranquillity; great revolutions shall be hid in the
bottom of the heart; they shall be consumed with grief,
and their joys restrained; their obedience shall be not
the less exact, nor the government less severe; that
mild behaviour they are always obliged to shew, shall
spring up from the depth of their very despair. We have
observed, the more women we have under our care, the
less trouble they give us. A greater necessity of
pleasing, less convenience for caballing, more examples
of submission; all these form their chains. Each of them
continually watches the steps of the others; it seems as
if, in consort with us, they strived to render
themselves more dependent; they do part of our work for
us, and open our eyes when we shut them. What shall I
say? They continually stir up their master against their
rivals, and see not how near they themselves are to be
punished next. But all this, magnificent lord, all this
is nothing without the master’s presence. What can we do
with this vain phantom of authority, which can never be
entirely communicated? We do but faintly represent the
half of thyself; we can only shew them an hateful
severity. Thou temperest fear with hopes; more absolute
when thou caressest, than when thou only threatenest.
Return thou, magnificent lord, return to these mansions,
and carry through the whole of them thy empire. Come and
assuage their despairing passions; come and remove every
pretext to stray; come and appease murmuring love, and
make even duty itself amiable; come, lastly, and relieve
thy faithful eunuchs from a burthen which every day
grows more heavy.
From the seraglio
at Ispahan, the 8th of the moon Zilhage, 1716.
LETTER XCVII.
Usbek to
Hassein, Dervise of the
mountain of Jaron.
O THOU, sage
dervise, whose curious mind is resplendent with such a
variety of knowledge, hearken to what I am going to say
to thee. There are philosophers here, who indeed have
not arrived at the pinnacle of oriental wisdom: they
have not indeed been caught up to the throne of light:
they have not heard the ineffable words echo from the
conforts of angels, nor felt the awful impressions of a
divine fury: but, left to themselves, deprived of these
holy assistances, they follow, in silence, the traces of
human reason. Thou canst not believe how far this guide
hath led them. They have dispersed the chaos, and have
explained, by a simple mechanism, the order of the
divine architecture. The author of nature hath given
motion to matter; there was nothing more wanting to
produce that prodigious variety of effects which we see
in the universe. The laws which common legislators offer
to us to regulate human society, are subject to
alteration, like the minds of those who form them, and
the people who observe them: these men here talk of
nothing but of laws general, immutable, eternal, which
are observed without any exception, with order,
regularity, and an infinite readiness, in the great
immensity of space. And what dost thou think, divine
man, that these laws are? Thou imaginest, perhaps, that
penetrating into the councils of the Eternal, thou shalt
be astonished with the sublimity of deep mysteries; thou
renouncest beforehand, the power of comprehending; thou
promisest thyself only admiration. But thou wilt soon
change thy thoughts; they do not dazzle us with a false
parade; the plainness of them have made them long
misunderstood; and it was not till after much
reflection, that all their fruitfulness and
extensiveness were discovered. The first law is, that
all bodies tend to form right lines, unless they meet
with some obstacle which turns them out of them; and the
second, which is no more than a consequence of the
former, is that all bodies which move round a center,
have a tendence to fly from it; because that the farther
it is removed, the more the line which it moves in,
approaches to a right line. See, divine dervise, the key
of nature; here are the fruitful principles, from which
they draw consequences which extend beyond our sight.
The knowledge of five or six truths hath filled their
philosophy full of wonders; and hath enabled them to
effect more marvellous miracles than all those which are
related to us of our holy prophets. For in short, I am
persuaded that there is none of our doctors who would
not have been embarrassed, if he had been asked to weigh
in a balance, all the air which surrounds the earth, or
to measure all the water which falls every year upon the
surface of it; and who must not have thought more than
once, before he could have told how many leagues sound
travels in an hour? What time a ray of light takes up in
its journey from the sun to us? How many fathoms it is
from hence to Saturn? What is the curve according to
which a ship should be cut to make the best sailer that
can possibly be? Perhaps if some divine man had
embellished the works of these philosophers with losty
and sublime expressions; if he had mixed bold figures
and mysterious allegories, he would have composed a
noble work, which would have been inferior to none
except the holy Koran. However, if it be necessary to
tell thee what I think, I rarely give into the
figurative stile. Our Koran abounds with trifles, which
to me always appear as such, although they rise with
strength and liveliness of expression. At first it seems
as if these inspired writings were only the divine ideas
cloathed in the language of men. On the contrary, we
often meet in the Koran, the language of God, and the
ideas of men, as if, by a marvellous caprice, the
supreme Being had dictated the words, and man had
furnished the sentiments. Perhaps thou wilt reply, I
talk too freely of things which are deemed most holy
among us; this thou wilt believe is the fruit of that
liberty which distinguisheth the people of this country.
No; heaven be praised, my head hath not corrupted my
heart; and, while I breath, Hali shall be my prophet.
Paris, the 15th of
the moon Chahban, 1716.
LETTER XCVIII.
Usbek to
Ibben, at
Smyrna.
THERE is no
country in the world where fortune is so inconstant as
in this. A revolution of ten years shall precipitate the
rich man into misery, and exalt the poor man with rapid
wings to the summit of affluence. The new-made rich man
admires the wisdom of providence, the poor man the blind
disposal of fate. Those who collect the taxes, swim in
the midst of treasures: there are among them a few
Tantaluses. Yet they come into this employment from
extreme wretchedness. They are despised like dirt whilst
they are poor; when they are rich, they are well enough
esteemed, as they neglect nothing to acquire respect. At
present they are in a terrible situation. They are going
to erect a chamber of justice, called so, because it is
to strip them of all their riches. They cannot transfer
their effects, nor conceal them; for they are obliged to
render a just account, upon pain of death; so that they
are compelled to pass a very narrow straight, as I may
say, between their lives and their money. To fill up
their misfortune, there is a minister remarkable for his
wit, who honours them with his jokes, and is very merry
upon all the deliberations of the council. They will not
always find ministers disposed to make the people laugh;
and they ought to take it kindly of him for behaving so.
The body of footmen is more respectable in France than
any where else: it is a seminary of great lords; they
fill up the vacancies in the other states. Those who
compose it take place of the unfortunate great, of
ruined magistrates, of gentlemen killed by the fury of
war; and when they cannot supply them from among
themselves, they raise up all the great families by the
help of their daughters, who are a kind of a dung by
which mountainous and barren lands are fattened. I find
providence, Ibben, wonderful in her manner of
distributing wealth. If she granted it only to good men,
it would not have been sufficiently distinguished from
virtue, and men would never have been sensible of the
insignificancy of riches. But when we examine who are
the people most loaded with them, by despising of the
rich, we shall come at last to contemn riches
themselves.
Paris, the 26th of
the moon Maharran, 1717.
LETTER XCIX.
Rica to
Rhedi, at Venice.
THE caprices of
fashion among the French are astonishing; they have
forgot how they were dressed in the summer: they are
even more ignorant how they shall dress this winter:
but, above all, it is not to be believed how much it
costs a husband to put his wife in the fashion. What
should I get by giving thee a full account of their
dress and ornaments? A new fashion would destroy all my
labour, as it does that of their works; and before thou
hadst received my letter, the whole would be changed. A
woman who quits Paris, to go and pass six months in the
country, is as antiquated at her return, as if she had
been forgotten thirty years. The son does not know the
portrait of his mother; so strange does the dress she
was drawn in appear to him: he imagines it is some
American who is there represented, or that the painter
had a mind to express some fancy of his own. Sometimes
the head-dresses mount up gradually to a great height,
and a sudden revolution makes them descend again at
once. There was a time when the immense loftiness of
them left the face of a woman in the middle of her body;
another time, the feet occupied the same situation; the
heels formed a kind of pedestals, which raised the women
into the air. Who will credit this? The architects have
often been obliged to raise, lower, and enlarge the
doors, as the dress of the women required these changes;
and the rules of their art have been subjected to their
caprice. You shall sometimes see, upon one face, a
prodigious quantity of patches, and next day they all
disappear again. The women formerly had shapes and
teeth, at present they are not regarded. In this
changeable nation, whatever an unlucky joker may say to
the contrary, the daughters are differently formed from
their mothers. It is the same in their behaviour and
manner of life, as with their fashions: the French
change their customs according to the age of their king.
The monarch might even be able to render this nation
grave, if he would undertake it. The prince communicates
his own sentiments to the court, the court to the city,
the city to the provinces. The soul of the sovereign is
a mold in which all the rest are formed.
Paris, the 8th of
the moon Saphar, 1717.
LETTER C.
Rica to the Same.
THE other day I
wrote to thee about the great inconstancy of the French
in their fashions. Yet it is inconceivable to what a
degree they are infatuated with them; they determine
every thing by them: they are the rules by which they
judge of the transactions of other nations: whatever is
foreign appears to them ridiculous. I confess to thee, I
know not how to reconcile this madness for their
customs, with the inconstancy with which they are daily
changing them. When I tell thee that they despise every
thing that is foreign, I speak only of trifles; for,
upon important occasions, they seem to be diffident even
of themselves, to their own degradation. They are very
ready to allow other nations are wiser, provided they
will allow that they are better dressed: they are quite
willing to submit themselves to the laws of a rival
nation, provided French peruke-makers may decide, like
legislators, the shape of foreign perukes. To them
nothing appears so glorious, as to see the taste of
their cooks reign from north to south, and the
ordonnances of their tire-women extended through all the
toilettes of Europe. With these noble advantages what
does it signify to them if their good sense comes to
them from abroad, and that they have taken from their
neighbours every thing that relates to their government,
political and civil? Who would think, that a kingdom,
the most ancient, and the most powerful in Europe,
should have been governed about ten ages by laws which
were not made for them? If the French had been conquered
it would not be difficult to comprehend this: but they
are the conquerors. They have abandoned the ancient laws
made by their first kings, in the general assemblies of
the nation; and what is more extraordinary, the Roman
laws, which they have taken instead of them, were partly
made, and partly digested by the emperors cotemporary
with their legislators. And, that the theft might be
complete, and that all their good sense might be derived
from others, they have adopted all the constitutions of
the popes, and made them a new part of their law; a new
kind of slavery. In these latter times they have, it is
true, digested in writing some statutes of cities and
provinces; but they are almost all taken from the Roman
law. This multitude of adopted, and, if I may say,
naturalized laws, is so great, that it oppresses equally
justice and the judge. But these volumes of laws are
nothing in comparison to that terrible army of glossers,
commentators, and compilers: a set of men as weak, as to
the justness of their understanding, as they are strong
from their number. This is not all: these foreign laws
have introduced formalities, whose excess is a disgrace
to human reason. It would be very difficult to determine
whether formality hath been more hurtful when it got
into the law, or when it took place in physic: whether
it hath ravaged more under the robe of the lawyer, than
under the large hat of the physician; and whether, in
the one, it hath ruined more people, than it hath killed
under the other.
Paris, the 17th of
the moon Saphar, 1717.
LETTER CI.
Usbek to
* * *.
THEY are always
talking here of the constitution. The other day I went
into a house, where the first person I saw was a great
fat man, with a ruddy complexion, who said, with a loud
voice, I have published my mandate; I shall make no
further answer to what you say; but read that mandate,
and you will find that I have resolved all your doubts.
I sweated much to do it, said he wiping his forehead
with his hand; I had need of all my learning, and I was
obliged to read many a Latin author. I believe so, said
a man who was by; for it is a curious work, and I desy
even the Jesuit, who comes so often to see you, to
compose a better. Read it then, replied the other, and
you will be better instructed in these matters in a
quarter of an hour, than if I had talked to you a whole
day. Thus he avoided entering into a conversation, and
exposing his insufficiency. But as he saw himself
pressed, he was obliged to quit his entrenchments; and
began to say, with a theological energy, a great many
foolish things, supported by a dervise who shewed the
utmost respect to what he said. When two persons who
were present denied him any of his principles, he
presently cried out it is certain, we have so determined
it, and we are infallible judges. And how came you, said
I to him then, to be infallible judges? Do not you
perceive, replied he, that the holy spirit hath
enlightened us? That is happy, returned I; for from the
manner of your talking to-day I perceive you have great
need to be enlightened.
Paris, the 18th of
the moon Rebiab, 1717.
LETTER CII.
Usbek to
Ibben, at
Smyrna.
THE most
powerful states in Europe, are those of the emperor, the
kings of France, Spain, and England. Italy, and a large
part of Germany, are divided into a great many little
states, the princes of which are, strictly speaking, the
martyrs of Sovereignty. Our glorious sultans have more
wives than some of these petty princes have subjects.
The states of Italy, which are not so united, are more
to be pitied, their dominions are as much exposed as so
many caravanseras, they are forced to admit the first
who come: they are therefore obliged to attach
themselves to some great prince, and give him a share of
their fears, rather than of their assistance. The
greater part of the governments in Europe are
monarchical, or rather they are so called: for I do not
know whether there ever was one truly so; at least it is
difficult that they should subsist long without being
corrupted. It is a state of violence, that always
degenerates into despotism, or into a republic. The
power can never be equally divided between the people
and the prince; the balance is too difficult to be
preserved: the power must decrease on one side, whilst
it increases on the other; but the balance is generally
in favour of the prince, who is at the head of the
armies. Accordingly the power of the European kings is
very great, and it may be said they have as much as they
please: but they do not exercise it so extensively as
our sultans; first, because they are not willing to
offend the manners and religion of the people; secondly,
because it is not their interest to extend it so far.
Nothing more reduces princes to the condition of their
subjects, than the immense power they exercise over
them; nothing subjects them more to the turns and
caprices of fortune. The custom, in some states, of
putting to death all those who offend them, upon the
least signal that they make, destroys that proportion
which ought to be observed between crimes and
punishments, which is in a manner the soul of a state,
and the harmony of empires; and this proportion,
carefully observed by the Christian princes, hath given
them a very great advantage over our sultans. A Persian
who hath, by imprudence or misfortune, drawn upon
himself the displeasure of his prince, is sure to die:
the smallest fault, or the least caprice, reduces him to
this necessity. But, if he had attempted the life of his
sovereign, if he had designed to give up places of
importance into the hands of the enemy, he still would
but lose his life; he runs no greater risque in this
latter case than in the former. So that under the least
disgrace, seeing certain death before him, and nothing
worse to fear, he is naturally led to disturb the state,
and to conspire against his sovereign, the only resource
he hath left. It is not the same with the great men in
Europe, from whom their disgrace takes away only the
good will and favour of their prince. They retire from
court, and think of nothing but enjoying a quiet life,
and the advantages of their birth. As they seldom lose
their lives but for hightreason, they are fearful of
falling into it, from a consideration of how much they
have to lose, and how little to gain: this is the reason
that we see few rebellions here, and few princes perish
by violent deaths. If in that unlimited power our
princes have, they did not take so many precautions for
the security of their lives, they would not live a day;
and if they had not in their pay a great number of
troops to tyrannize over the rest of their subjects,
their empire would not subsist a month. It is not above
three or four ages ago, that a king of France took
guards, contrary to the custom of those times, to secure
himself from some ruffians, whom a petty prince of Asia
had sent to assassinate him: till then kings lived quiet
in the midst of their subjects, as fathers amidst their
children. Though the kings of France cannot, of their
own motion, take away the life of any of their subjects,
like our sultans, they have however always the power of
extending mercy to all criminals: it is sufficient that
a man hath been so happy as to see the august
countenance of his prince, to remove his unworthiness to
live. These monarchs are like the sun, who carries
warmth and life every where.
Paris, the 8th of
the moon of the 2d Rebiab, 1717.
LETTER CIII.
Usbek to the Same.
TO pursue the
subject of my last letter, hear what a sensible European
said to me the other day. The worst method the Asiatic
princes could take, is to shut themselves up as they do.
They think to render themselves more respected: but they
make the royalty respected, and not the king; and attach
the minds of the subjects to a certain throne and not to
a certain person. That invisible power which governs, is
always the same to the people. Though ten kings, who are
known only by name, have their throats cut one after
another, the subjects are sensible of no difference; it
is just as if they had been governed by their spirits.
If the detestable parricide of the great king Henry IV.
here, had given his blow to one of the Indian kings,
master of the royal signet, and of a great treasure
which would have seemed to have been heaped up for him,
he would quietly have assumed the reins of the empire,
without any person’s thinking to inquire after his king,
or his family and children. We wonder that there is
scarcely ever any change in the governments of the
eastern princes: whence comes this, if it is not that
they are tyrannical and terrible? Changes cannot be
effected but by the prince, or by the people. Now,
there, the princes will take care not to make a change,
because, being in so high a degree of power, they have
all they can have; if they were to make any change, it
could not but be to their own prejudice. As to the
subjects, if any one of them forms such a design, he
cannot execute it upon the state; it would be necessary
he should counterbalance immediately a power formidable,
and always the only one; he wants time as well as the
means: but he has no more than to go to the source of
this power; and he wants nothing but an arm and a
moment. The murderer mounts the throne, whilst the
monarch descends, falls, and expires at his feet. A
malecontent, in Europe, thinks of carrying on some
private intelligence; to go over to the enemy: to get
some strong place into his power; to excite murmurings
among the subjects. A malecontent, in Asia, aims
directly at the prince, surprises, strikes, and
overthrows: he blots out his very memory; in an instant
slave and master, in an instant usurper and lawful.
Unhappy the king who hath but one head! he seems to
collect all his power upon it, only to point out to the
first ambitious rebel the part where he may meet with it
all together.
Paris, the 17th of
the moon of the 2d Rebiab, 1717.
LETTER CIV.
Usbek to the Same.
ALL the people
of Europe are not equally subject to their princes: for
instance, the impatient humour of the English seldom
give their king time to make his power heavy. Passive
obedience and non-resistance are no virtues in their
esteem. They say upon this head very extraordinary
things. According to them, there is but one tie that can
bind men, which is that of gratitude: a husband, a wife,
a father and son, are not bound to each other, but
either by the love they bear to one another, or by
mutual services: and these different motives of
acknowledgment are the origin of every kingdom, and of
all societies. But if a prince, very far from making his
subjects live happy, endeavours to oppress and ruin
them, the foundation of obedience ceases; nothing ties
them, nothing attaches them to him, and they return to
their natural liberty. They maintain that no unlimited
power can be lawful, because it never could lawfully
commence. For we cannot, say they, give to another more
power over us, than we have ourselves: now we have not
an unlimited power over ourselves; for instance, we
cannot take away our own lives, no person then upon
earth, conclude they, hath a right to such a power. High
treason is nothing, according to them, but a crime
committed by the weaker against the stronger, by
disobeying him, in whatever manner he does so.
Accordingly the people of England, when they found
themselves strongest in opposition to one of their
kings, declared it to be high treason in a king to make
war upon his subjects. They have therefore good reason
to say, that the precept in their Koran, which enjoins
obedience to the powers, is not very difficult to be
followed, as it is impossible for them not to observe
it; since it is not to the most virtuous that they are
obliged to submit, but to the strongest. The English
say, that one of their kings having overcome, and taken
prisoner, a prince who disputed the crown with him, and
reproaching him with his treachery and perfidiousness;
it is not above a moment, replied the unfortunate
prince, since it was decided which of us two is the
traitor. An usurper declares all those to be rebels, who
have not, like him, oppressed their country: and,
believing there are no laws where he sees no judges,
forces respect to the caprices of chance and fortune, as
to the decrees of heaven.
Paris, the 20th of
the moon of the 2d Rebiab, 1717.
LETTER CV.
Redi to
Usbek, at Paris.
THOU talkest
much to me in one of thy letters, of the arts and
sciences cultivated in the west. Thou wilt be ready to
regard me as a barbarian: but I know not if the benefit
derived from them hath made amends to mankind, for the
bad use to which they are daily applied. I have heard
say, that the single invention of bombs, hath destroyed
the liberty of all the people of Europe. The princes
being no longer willing to intrust the guard of towns to
the citizens, who would surrender them at the first
bomb, made that a pretext for keeping a large body of
regular troops, with which they afterwards oppressed
their subjects. Thou knowest, that since the invention
of gun-powder, there is no place impregnable; that is to
say, Usbek, that there is not any longer an assylum upon
earth against injustice and violence. I always tremble,
left they should arrive at last at the discovery of some
secret which may furnish them with a shorter way to
destroy mankind, and to depopulate whole nations and
whole kingdoms. Thou hast read the historians; reflect
seriously upon them; almost all monarchies have been
founded only upon the ignorance of arts, and have only
been destroyed by their being too much cultivated. The
ancient empire of Persia may furnish us with a domestic
example. I have not been long in Europe; but I have
heard wise men talk of the ravages of chymistry. It
seems to be a fourth scourge, which ruins mankind, and
destroys them singly, but continually; whilst that of
war, plague, and famine, destroys them in large bodies,
but by intervals. How have we been benefited by the
invention of the compass, and the discovery of so many
nations, who have rather communicated to us their
distempers, than their riches? Gold and silver have been
established, by a general agreement, to be the price of
all merchandizes, and the measure of their value,
because these metals were scarce, and unfit for other
uses: what benefit was it to us, then, that they should
become more common? and that to mark the value of any
commodity, we should have two or three tokens instead of
one? This was only a greater inconvenience. But, on the
other hand, this invention hath been very hurtful to the
countries that have been discovered. Whole nations have
been discovered; and those who have escaped death, have
been reduced to so cruel a slavery, that the relation of
it makes the Mussulmans tremble. Happy ignorance of the
children of Mahomet! amiable simplicity, so dear to our
holy prophet; thou dost always recal to my mind the
plain honesty of antient times, and that tranquility
which reigned in the hearts of our first fathers.
Venice, the 5th of
the moon Rhamazan, 1717.
LETTER CVI.
Usbek to
Redi, at
Venice.
THOU dost not
think as thou sayest, or else thy actions are better
than thy thoughts. Thou hast quitted thy country to gain
knowledge, and thou despisest all instruction: thou
travellest to improve thyself, in a country where they
cultivate the polite arts, and lookest upon them as
hurtful. Shall I tell thee, Rhedi? I agree with thee
more than thou dost with thyself. Hast thou well
reflected on the barbarous and unhappy condition into
which we should be sunk by the loss of the arts? There
is no need to imagine it, we may see it. There are yet
people upon earth among whom an ape, tolerably well
taught, might live with honour; he would be nearly upon
a level with the rest of the inhabitants; he would not
be thought an odd being, nor a whimsical character; he
would pass as well as another, and would even be
distinguished for his politeness. Thou sayest, that
almost all the founders of empires have been ignorant of
the arts. I will not deny that these barbarous people
may have, like an impetuous torrent, spread themselves
over the earth, and covered with their savage armies the
most polite states: but, observe, they learned the arts,
or made those they conquered exercise them, otherwise
their power would have passed away like the noise of
thunder and tempests. Thou sayest, thou art afraid lest
they should invent some crueller method of destruction
than that now used. No: if such a fatal invention should
be discovered, by the law of nations it would be
prohibited, and by the unanimous consent of nations it
would be suppressed. It is not the interest of princes
to conquer by such means: it is their business to gain
subjects and not lands. Thou dost complain of the
invention of gun-powder and bombs; you think it is bad
that no place is any longer impregnable, that is, you
think it is a bad thing that wars should be sooner
terminated than they were before. Thou must have
observed, in reading of history, that, since the
invention of gun-powder, battles are much less bloody
than formerly, because armies hardly ever mix among one
another. And, if an art in some partiticular case should
be found prejudicial, ought it, on that account, to be
rejected? Thou thinkest that the arts render the people
effeminate, and by that means are the cause of the fall
of empires. Thou mentionest the ruin of the antient
Persians, which was the effect of their effeminacy: but
this example is far from being decisive, since the
Greeks who conquered them so often, and subdued them,
cultivated the arts with much greater assiduity. When
they say, the arts make men effeminate, they do not in
the least speak of those people who work at them;
because they are never idle, which, of all vices, is
that which weakens courage most. The question then is,
as to those who enjoy the fruits of them. But as in a
polite country, those who reap the benefits of one art,
are obliged to cultivate another, lest they should be
reduced to a shameful poverty; it follows, that idleness
and luxury are incompatible with the arts. Paris is,
perhaps, the most luxurious city in the world, and
refines the most upon her pleasures; and yet, perhaps,
no people live harder than there. That one man may live
in luxury, a hundred must be continually labouring. A
lady takes it into her head, that she must appear at an
assembly in a certain dress; from this moment fifty
artificers have no leisure either to eat, drink, or
sleep: she commands, and is more readily obeyed than our
monarch, for interest is the greatest monarch upon
earth. This great application to labour, this thirst to
grow rich, runs through every rank, from the artificers
up to the greatest men. Nobody loves to be poorer than
him who is next beneath him. You may see at Paris, a man
who hath sufficient to live upon to the end of the
world, who continually labours, and ventures the
shortening of his days, to scrape up, as he says,
wherewith to live. The same spirit prevails through the
whole nation, nothing is seen there but labour and
industry. Where then is the effeminate people of whom
you talk so much? I will suppose, Rhedi, that in some
kingdom they should suffer no arts but such as are
absolutely necessary for the manuring of the lands;
which are nevertheless very numerous; and that they
should expel all those which only administer to
pleasure, or curiosity: I will maintain, that this would
be one of the most miserable states that hath ever been
in the world. Though the inhabitants should have
resolution enough to shift without so many things as
their wants require, the people would decay daily, and
the state would become so weak, that there would be no
state so little that could not conquer it. It would be
easy to discuss this at large, and to make thee sensible
that the revenues of the subjects would be almost
absolutely at an end, and consequently those of the
prince. There would hardly be any of those mutual
relations between citizens of the same faculties: they
would see an end to that circulation of riches, and that
increase of the revenues which arise from the dependance
of the arts one upon another: every one would live upon
his land, and raise no more than what would be precisely
necessary to keep him from starving. But as this
sometimes is not the twentieth part of the revenue of
the state, the number of the inhabitants must diminish
in proportion, and there would be but a twentieth part
of them remaining. Consider to how much the revenue of
industry arises. Land produces annually to the owner but
the twentieth part of its value; but with a pistole
worth of colours a painter will draw a picture that will
produce him fifty. The same may be said of goldsmiths,
workers in wool and silk, and every kind of artificers:
from all which we conclude, Rhedi, that, for a prince to
be powerful, it is necessary his subjects should live in
affluence, it is necessary he should endeavour to
procure them every kind of superfluities, with as much
attention as the necessaries of life.
Paris, the 14th of
the moon Chalval, 1717.
LETTER CVII.
Rica to
Ibben at Smyrna.
I HAVE seen the
young monarch. His life is very valuable to his
subjects, it is not less so to all Europe, because of
the great troubles his death might occasion. But kings
are like the gods; and whilst they live, we must believe
them immortal. His countenance is majestic, but
pleasing; a good education concurs with a happy
disposition, and already promises a great prince. They
say we can never know the character of these western
princes, till they have passed these two trials, their
mistress and their confessor. We shall soon see the one
and the other labouring to possess the mind of this, and
he on this account will be the subject of great
contentions. For, under a young prince, these two powers
are always rivals; but they agree and unite together
under an old one. A dervise hath a difficult part to
support with a young prince: the king’s strength is his
weakness; but the other triumphs equally in his strength
and weakness. At my arrival in France, I found the late
king entirely governed by women: and yet, considering
his age, I believe he had less occasion for them than
any monarch upon earth. I one day heard a woman say, I
must do something for this young colonel, I know his
valour: I must speak to the minister. Another said, it
is astonishing this young abbot hath been forgot; he
must be a bishop; he is a man of birth, and I can answer
for his conduct. However, thou must not imagine that
these women who held this conversation were favourites
of the prince: they had not perhaps spoke to him twice
in their lives; which yet is a very easy thing to do
with European princes. But there is not a person who
hath any employment at court, in Paris, or in the
provinces, who hath not some woman through whose hands
all the favours, and sometimes all the injustice he can
do, always pass. These women are constantly connected
together, and make a kind of republic, the members of
which are always busy mutually to succour and serve each
other: it is a new kind of state within another: and a
person at the court at Paris, or in the provinces, who
sees the ministers, magistrates, and prelates, acting in
their several stations, if he knows nothing of the women
who govern them, is like a man indeed who sees a machine
at work, but who is unacquainted with the springs that
move it. Dost thou think, Ibben, that a woman agrees to
be a mistress to a minister for the pleasure of lying
with him? What a strange thought this would be! It is
that she may every morning present him with five or six
petitions: and the goodness of their natural disposition
appears in the zeal which they have to do good to a
great number of unhappy people, who procure them a
hundred thousand livres a year. They complain in Persia,
that the kingdom is governed by two or three women: but
it is much worse in France, where the women in general
govern, and not only assume the authority in gross, but
even divide it among themselves by retail.
Paris, the last of
the moon Chalval, 1717.
LETTER CVIII.
Usbek to
* * *.
THERE are a kind
of books here not at all known to us in Persia, and
which seem to be much in fashion here: these are the
Journals. Lazy people are mightily pleased with reading
them: they are hugely delighted with being able to run
through thirty volumes in a quarter of an hour. In most
of these books, the author hath hardly paid his usual
compliments, but the reader is at his last gasp: he
leads him half dead into a subject drowned in the midst
of an ocean of words. One man hath a mind to immortalize
himself in a duodecimo, this in a quarto,
another in a folio: it is necessary then he
should extend his subject in proportion; this he does
without mercy, esteeming the labour of the poor reader
as nothing, who kills himself in reducing what the
author took so much pains to enlarge. I cannot find, * *
*, what merit there is in composing such kinds of work:
I could do the same easily enough, if I had a mind to
ruin my health, and a bookseller. The great fault of
these journalists is, that they speak only of new books;
as if truth was always novel. It seems to me, that, till
a man hath read all the ancient books, he hath no reason
to prefer the new ones to them. But, when they impose it
as a law upon themselves, never to speak of works but
such as are just hot from the forge, they likewise lay
themselves under another which is, to be very tiresome.
They take care not to criticise those books from which
they make their extracts, for this reason, because they
are not able; and indeed, what man is bold enough to
make ten or a dozen enemies every month? The generality
of authors are like the poets, who will bear a hearty
caning without complaining: but who, little under
[Editor: illegible?] of their shoulders, are so much
more so of their works, that they know not how to bear
the least criticism. A person therefore must take great
care how he attacks them in so sensible a part; and the
journalists are well acquainted with this. They
therefore do just the contrary; they begin with praising
the subject treated on; this is their first folly: from
thence they go on to praise the author, with forced
encomiums; for they have to do with people who are
always in breath, ever ready to do themselves justice,
and to attack, with a stroke of their pens, a fool-hardy
journalist.
Paris, the 5th of
the moon Zilcade, 1718.
LETTER CIX.
Rica to
* * *.
THE
university of Paris is the eldest daughter of the Kings
of France: and the eldest by much; for she is above nine
hundred years old, so that she now and then doats; I
have been told, that she had sometimes a great quarrel
with some doctors about the letter Q
, which she would have pronounced like a K. The dispute
grew so warm, that some were stript of their estates:
the parliament was obliged to determine the difference;
and it granted permission, by a solemn arret, to all the
subjects of the King of France, to pronounce this letter
according to their own fancy. It was certainly very
diverting to see the two most respectable bodies in
Europe, employed in deciding in so vehement a manner
about a letter in the alphabet! It looks, my dear * * *,
as if the heads of the greatest men idiotized when they
meet together; and that where there are most people,
there is so much the less wisdom. Great bodies always
attach themselves so strongly to little things, and
foolish customs, that essentials never come to be
considered till afterwards. I have heard say, that a
king of Arragon having assembled
the states of Arragon and Catalonia, the first meetings
were employed in deciding what language the
deliberations should be held in: the dispute was warm,
and the states would have broke up a thousand times, if
they had not thought of an expedient, which was, that
the questions should be put in the Catalonian tongue,
and the answers in that of Arragon.
Paris, the 25th of
the moon Zilhage, 1718.
LETTER CX.
Rica to
* * *.
THE part a
pretty woman hath to conduct, is more important than may
be imagined. Nothing is more serious than what passes
every morning at her toilet, amidst her servants: a
general of an army does not make use of more
consideration how to place his right, or his corps de
reserve, than she does to place a patch, which may
fail of its end, but of which she hopes or foresees the
success. What perplexity of mind, what thought,
continually to be reconciling the interests of two
rivals; to appear neuter to both, while she is resigned
to the one and to the other; and makes herself the
mediatrix in all the causes of complaint that she gives
them! How busy in settling the order, and to appoint
parties of pleasure, and to prevent every accident that
may interrupt them! With all this, the greatest trouble
is not to be, but to appear, diverted. Be as dull as you
please, they will excuse you, provided they can but be
thought to have been very merry. Some days ago, I was at
a supper which some ladies gave in the country. All the
way thither they were continually saying, however we
must make ourselves very merry. We were very ill paired,
and consequently grave enough. I must confess, says one
of the women, that we are very merry: there is not
to-day in Paris so gay a party as ours. As I grew heavy,
a woman jogged me, and said, “Well, are not we in a
charming good humour?” “Yes, answered I yawning, I
believe I shall burst myself with laughing.” However,
gravity got the better of our resolutions; and, as to
myself, from one gape to another, I sunk into a
lethargic sleep, which put an end to all my mirth.
Paris, the 1st of
the moon Maharran, 1718.
LETTER CXI.
Usbek to
* * *.
THE late king’s
reign was so long, that the end had made the beginning
to be forgot. At present the fashion is, to be taken up
with nothing but with the events that happened in his
minority: and no body reads any thing now but the
memoirs of those times.—See a speech which one of the
generals of the city of Paris made in a council of war:
though I must confess I can conceive nothing very great
in it.
‘Gentlemen,
‘Though
our troops have been repulsed with loss, I believe it
will be very easy for us to repair this misfortune. I
have composed six couplets of a song ready to be
published, which, I am persuaded, will restore all our
affairs to an equilibrium. I have made choice of some
excellent voices, which, issuing from the cavity of
certain strong breasts, will wonderfully move the
people. They are set to an air, which hitherto hath had
a singular effect. If this does not do, we will publish
a print of Mazarine as hanged. Luckily for us, he does
not speak good French
, and so murders it that it is impossible but that his
affairs must decline. We do not fail making the people
observe, with what a ridiculous accent he pronounces
. A few days ago we made such a ridicule of a blunder
that he made in grammar, that it hath been made a joke
of in every street. I hope, that before eight days, the
people will make the name of Mazarine a general word to
express all beasts of burden and carriage. Since our
defeat, our music about original sin
, hath so vexed him, that not to see all his party
reduced to one half, he hath been obliged to send back
all his pages. Recover yourselves then; take courage;
and be assured that we will make him repass the
mountains by the force of our hisses.’
Paris the 4th of
the moon Chahban, 1718.
LETTER CXII.
Rhedi to
Esbek, at
Paris.
DURING my stay
in Europe, I employ myself in reading the antient and
modern historians: I compare one age with another: I
have the pleasure of seeing them pass, as it were before
me: and my mind is particularly engaged to those great
changes which have made so great a difference between
times and times, and the earth so little like itself.
Thou hast perhaps considered a thing which is a
continual subject of wonder to me. How comes the world
to be so thinly peopled, in comparison to what it was
formerly? How hath nature lost the prodigious
fruitfulness of the first ages? Is she already in her
old age, and sunk into a state of feebleness? I staid
above a year in Italy, where I saw nothing but the
wrecks of the ancient Italy, so famous in past times.
Though all the inhabitants live in the cities, yet are
they entire deserts, and wholly depopulated: they seem
to subsist now only to show the places where those
potent cities stood, so much talked of in history. Some
persons here pretend, that the city of Rome alone
contained formerly more people than the greatest kingdom
in Europe does at this day. There were some Roman
citizens who had ten, and even twenty thousand slaves,
without counting those who worked at their country
houses: and as they reckon that there were four or five
hundred thousand citizens, we cannot fix the number of
its inhabitants, without shocking imagination itself. In
Sicily there were formerly powerful kingdoms, and
numerous nations, who have since disappeared: This
island is now considerable for nothing but its
volcanoes. Greece is so deserted, that it doth not
contain the hundredth part of its ancient inhabitants.
Spain, formerly so crouded, now shows us only
uninhabited countries; and France is nothing in
comparison of that ancient Gaul described by Cęsar. The
northern countries are greatly stript; they are now far
from being obliged, as formerly, to divide themselves,
and to send out, like swarms, colonies and whole nations
to seek for new habitations.—Poland, and Turky in
Europe, have hardly any people. We cannot find in
America the fiftieth part of the men who once formed
there such great empires. Asia is scarcely in a better
state. That Asia Minor, which contained so many powerful
Monarchies, and such a vast number of great cities, hath
now but two or three. As to the greater Asia, that part
of it which is subject to the Turk, is not more
populous: as to that under the dominion of our kings if
compared with the flourishing state it formerly enjoyed;
we shall find it hath but a very small share of those
numberless inhabitants which it had in the times of the
Xerxeses and Dariuses. As to the petty states on the
borders of these great empires, they are really desarts:
such are the kingdoms of Irimetta, Circassia, and that
of Guriel. These princes with vast dominions, can hardly
reckon up fifty thousand subjects. Egypt is not less
deficient than other countries. In fine, I survey the
whole earth, and I find nothing there but ruin and
decay: I think I see her just emerging from the ravages
of plague and famine. Africa hath always been so little
known, that we cannot speak so exactly of it as of other
parts of the world: but if we consider only the
Mediterranean coasts, which have been always known, we
shall see that it hath greatly fallen from what it was
under the Carthaginians and the Romans. At present her
princes are so weak, that they are the most petty
potentates in the world. According to a calculation, as
exact as can be made in matters of this nature, I find
there is hardly upon the earth the tenth part of the
people that there was in ancient times. And what is very
astonishing, is, that it becomes every day less
populous: and, if this continues, in ten ages it will be
no other than a desert. This, Usbek, is the most
terrible catastrophe that ever happened in the world.
But we have hardly perceived it, because it hath arrived
by degrees, and through the course of a great number of
ages, which denotes an inward defect, a secret hidden
poison, a languishing disease which afflicts human
nature.
the 10th of the
moon Rhegeb, 1718.
LETTER CXIII.
Usbek to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
THE world,
Rhedi, is not incorruptible; the heavens themselves are
not; the astronomers are eye-witnesses of their changes;
which are indeed the natural effects of the universal
motion of matter. The earth is subject, like the other
planets, to the laws of motion: and she suffers within
herself, a perpetual conflict among her own principles:
the sea and land seem engaged in an eternal war; every
instant produces new conjunctions. Mankind, in an abode
so subject to changes, are in a state likewise
uncertain: a hundred thousand causes may act, capable of
destroying them, and much more of increasing or
diminishing their number. I shall not mention to thee
those particular catastrophes, so frequent among
historians, which have destroyed cities and whole
kingdoms: there are general ones, which have often put
the human species within an inch of destruction. History
is full of those universal plagues, which have, by
turns, desolated the whole earth; of one, among others,
that was so violent that it blasted the very roots of
the plants, and infected the whole known world, to the
very empire of Cathai: one degree more of corruption
would perhaps, in a single day, have destroyed all human
nature. It is not two centuries ago that the most
shameful of all distempers was felt in Europe, Asia, and
Africa; it wrought in a little time prodigious effects,
that would have destroyed mankind, if it had continued
its progress with the same fury. Depressed with disease
from their birth, incapable of sustaining the weight of
the duties of society, they must miserably have
perished. What if the venom had been a little more
exalted? and without doubt it would have become so, if
they had not been so happy as to find out so powerful a
remedy as that which hath been discovered. This disease,
perhaps, attacking the parts of generation would have
affected generation itself. But why talk I of the
destruction which might have happened to human nature?
Hath it not in fact arrived? and did not the deluge
reduce it to one single family? There are philosophers
who maintain two creations; that of things, and that of
man: they cannot conceive that matter and things have
been created but six thousand years; that God deferred
his works during all eternity, and did not use but
yesterday his creative power. Was it because he could,
or because he would not? But, if he could not at one
time, neither could he at another. It must be then
because he would not: but as there is no succession of
time in God, if we admit that he willed any thing once,
he willed it always, and from the beginning
. However all historians mention a first father: they
present us with the birth of human nature. Is it not
natural to think that Adam was saved from some common
destruction, as Noah was from the deluge; and that these
great events have been frequent upon earth since the
creation? But all these destructions have not been
violent. We see many parts of the earth grown weary, as
it were, of furnishing subsistence to man; how do we
know if the whole earth hath not in it general causes,
slow and imperceptible, of this weariness? I was willing
to give thee these general ideas, before I answered more
particularly to thy letter of the decrease of mankind,
which hath happened within these seventeen or eighteen
centuries. I shall show thee in a succeeding letter,
that independent of physical causes, there are moral
ones by which this effect may have been produced.
Paris, the 18th of
the moon Chahban, 1718.
LETTER CXIV.
Usbek to the Same.
THOU inquirest
from what cause the earth is less populous than it was
formerly; and if thou considerest carefully, thou wilt
find that this great difference comes from that which
hath happened in our manners. Since the Christian and
Mahometan religions have divided the Roman world, things
have been greatly changed: these two religions have been
far from being so favourable to the propagation of our
species, as that of those lords of the universe. Among
the Romans, polygamy was prohibited; and by that law it
had a very great advantage over the Mahometan religion:
divorces were also allowed, which gave it another, and
no less considerable advantage over the Christian. I
find nothing so contradictory as this plurality of wives
permitted by the holy Koran, and the order of satisfying
them commanded in the same book. Converse with your
wives, says the prophet, because ye are as necessary to
them as their vestments, and they are as necessary to
you as your own vestments. See here a precept which
renders the life of a true Mussulman very laborious. He
who hath the four wives settled by law, and only as many
concubines, or slaves, must not he be weighed down with
so many vestments? Your wives are your tillage, saith
the prophet; apply yourselves therefore to your tillage:
do good for your souls, and you shall one day find your
recompence. I consider a good Mussulman as a champion,
destined always to be fighting; but who, soon weakened
and weighed down with his first fatigues, saints in the
very field of battle, and finds himself, as may be said,
to be buried beneath his own triumphs. Nature evers acts
slowly, and as one may say, sparingly; her operations
are never violent, even in her productions she requires
temperance: she constantly goes on by rule and measure:
if she is precipitated, she falls into a languor; she
employs all her remaining strength for her own
preservation, quite losing her productive virtue and
generative power. It is to this state of debility we are
always reduced by so great a number of women, who are
fitter to exhaust, than satisfy us. It is very common
among us, to see a man with a very great seraglio, and
yet a very small number of children; these children too
are generally weak and unhealthy, and feel the
imbecility of their fathers. This is not all: these
women, obliged to a forced continence, have need of
people to guard them, who can be none but eunuchs:
religion, jealousy, reason itself will permit no others
to approach them: these guardians must be numerous, to
the end they may maintain peace within doors amidst the
continual contentions of these women, and prevent
attempts from without. So that a man who hath ten wives,
or concubines, must have no fewer eunuchs to guard them.
But what a loss to society, so great a number of men,
dead as it were from their birth! What depopulation must
follow! The female slaves kept in the seraglio, to wait
with the eunuchs upon this great number of women, almost
always growing old in an afflicting virginity: they
cannot marry while they stay there; and their
mistresses, when once used to them, will hardly ever
dismiss them. See how many persons of both sexes a
single man employs for his pleasures; they are dead to
the state, and rendered useless in the propagation of
the species. Constantinople and Ispahan are the capitals
of the two greatest empires in the world: it is there
that every thing ought to terminate, and where every
body, drawn by a thousand different ways, should come
from all parts. Yet even these cities decay of
themselves, and would soon be destroyed, if the
sovereigns did not, almost every century, make whole
nations remove thither to repeople them. I will continue
this subject in another letter.
Paris, the 13th of
the moon Chahban, 1718.
LETTER CXV.
Usbek to the Same.
THE Romans
had not a less number of slaves than we; they had even
more: but they made a better use of them. So far from
hindering by violent means, the multiplication of their
slaves, they on the contrary favoured it all in their
power; they coupled them, as much as they could, by a
kind of marriage; by this means, they filled their
houses with servants of both sexes, of all ages, and the
state with an innumerable people. These children, who
made in time the riches of their master, were born
around him without number; he alone had the charge of
their maintenance and education: their fathers, freed
from this burden, follow’d wholly the inclination of
their nature, and multiplied without the fear of having
too numerous a family. I have observed to thee, that
among us, all the slaves are employed in guarding our
women, and in nothing more; that they are, with respect
to the state, in a perpetual lethargy; so that the
cultivation of the arts, and of the land, is necessarily
confined to some freemen, and some heads of families,
who apply themselves to it as little as possible. It was
not the same among the Romans. The republic served
itself with very great advantage, by this generation of
slaves. Each of them had his peculium
, which he enjoyed upon such conditions as his master
imposed upon him; with this peculium, he
laboured, and applied himself in that way to which his
ingenuity led him. This made himself a banker; another
applied himself to commerce by sea; one sold goods by
retail; another gave himself to some mechanic art, or
else farmed and cultivated some lands; but there was
none who did not apply himself, to his utmost power, to
improve his peculium, which procured him, at the
same time, comforts in his present state of servitude,
and the hope of being able, in some future time, to
purchase his liberty; this made a laborious people, and
encouraged arts and sciences. These slaves became rich
by their care and labour, bought their freedom, and
became citizens. The republic was thus continually
replenished, and received into her bosom new families as
fast as the old ones failed. I may, perhaps in my
following letters, have an opportunity to prove to thee,
that the more men there are in any state, there commerce
flourishes the more; I may also as easily prove, that
the more commerce flourishes, the more the number of
people increases: these two things mutually assist and
favour each other. If this is so, how much must this
very great number of slaves, always at work, have grown
and increased! Industry and plenty gave them birth, and
they in return gave birth to plenty and industry.
Paris, the 16th of
the moon Chahban, 1718.
LETTER CXVI.
Usbek to the Same.
HITHERTO we have
spoken only of the Mahometan countries, and inquired
into the reason why they are less populous than those
which were subject to the government of the Romans: let
us now examine what hath produced this effect among the
Christians. Divorces were allowed in the Pagan religion,
and forbidden to the Christians. This change, which at
first may appear of so little consequence, had by
degrees terrible effects, and such as are not easily to
be believed. This not only took away all the sweets of
marriage, but struck at its very end: desirous to tie
the knot faster, they loosened it; and, instead of
uniting hearts, as they pretended, they separated them
for ever. In so free an action, and in which the heart
ought to have so great a part, they put torment,
necessity, and even fate itself. They reckoned for
nothing disgusts, caprices, and unsociable humours: they
wanted to fix the heart, that is to say, that which is
the most variable and inconstant thing in nature; they
joined together, without the hope of a change, people
tired of one another, and almost always ill matched; and
did by them like those tyrants who used to tie living
men to dead bodies. Nothing contributed more to a mutual
attachment, than the power of divorce; a husband and a
wife were induced to bear patiently domestic troubles,
knowing they were masters of the power of ending them;
and they often retained this power in their hand all
their life-time, without using it, from this single
consideration, that they were at liberty to do so. It is
not the same with the Christians, their present
vexations drive them to despair at the apprehension of
those which are to come. They see nothing in the
discomforts of marriage, but their continuance, or
rather their eternity; hence arise disgusts,
contentions, contempt; and this is so much loss to
posterity. Three years of marriage are scarcely past,
but the essential design of it is neglected: thirty
years of coldness follow: private separations are formed
as strong, and perhaps more hurtful, than if they had
been public: each lives apart his own way: and all this
to the prejudice of future generations. A man, disgusted
at having a wife for ever, soon gives himself up to
loose women; a commerce shameful, and contrary to
nature, which, without answering the end of marriage,
represents at most but the pleasures of it. If, of two
persons thus linked together, one be unfit to answer the
design of nature, and the propagation of the species,
either from constitution or age, that party buries the
other with itself, and renders the other equally
useless. We are not therefore to wonder that we see,
among the Christians, so many marriages produce so small
a number of citizens. Divorce is abolished; marriages
ill formed are not to be rectified; the women do not
pass, as among the Romans, successively through the
hands of several husbands, who, for the time, make the
best they can of them. I dare say, if in a free state,
like that of Lacedęmon, where the citizens were
continually tormented by odd and subtle laws, and in
which there was but one family, that of the republic, if
it had been there established that the husbands might
change their wives every year, it would have produced an
innumerable people. It is very difficult to comprehend
the reason that led the Christians to abolish divorces.
Marriage, among all the nations of the world, is a
contract capable of every kind of settlement; and none
ought to be excluded from it but such as would have
weakened the design of it. But the Christians do not
consider it in this point of view; and they are at a
good deal of trouble to explain themselves upon this
subject. They do not make it to consist in the pleasure
of sense; on the contrary, as I have already told thee,
it seems as if they were desirous to banish it as much
as they can; but it is with them an image, a figure, and
some mysterious thing that I cannot at all comprehend.
Paris, the 19th of
the moon Chahban, 1718.
LETTER CXVII.
Usbek to the Same.
THE
scarcity of people in the Christian countries is not to
be ascribed solely to the prohibition of divorces: the
great number of eunuchs which they have among them, is
not a less considerable occasion of it. I mean the
priests and dervises of both sexes, who devote
themselves to perpetual continence: this is, among the
Christians, a virtue of virtues; in which I cannot
comprehend any virtue, not knowing how that can be a
virtue which is productive of nothing. I find their
doctors plainly contradicting themselves, when they say
that marriage is holy, and that celibacy, which is
opposite to it, is more holy; without considering, that
in a matter of precepts and dogmas, the good is always
the best. The number of these people professing celibacy
is prodigious. Fathers used formerly to condemn their
children to it from their infancy; at present they
devote themselves to it at fourteen years of age, which
comes very near to the same point. This practice of
continence hath been the loss of more men than ever have
been destroyed by the plague, or the most bloody wars.
We see in every religious house an endless family, where
nobody is born, and who are maintained at the expence of
every body else. These houses are always open, like so
many pits, wherein future generations are buried alive.
This is very different policy from that of the Romans,
who established penal laws against those who avoided the
law of marriage, and who wanted to enjoy a liberty so
opposite to the public good. I have yet only spoken of
Catholic countries. In the Protestant religion every
body enjoys the right of propagation; it allows neither
of priests not dervises
: and if, at the establishment of this religion, which
brought back every thing to the standard of the
primitive times, its founders had not been continually
reproached with incontinence, it is not to be doubted
but that, after having rendered the practice of marriage
universal, they would likewise have softened the yoke,
and have concluded with entirely removing the barrier
which in this case separates the Nazarene from Mahomet.
But however that might have been, it is certain that the
religion of the Protestants gives them a very great
advantage over the Catholics. I might venture to say,
that, in the present state of Europe, it is not possible
the Catholic religion should subsist there five hundred
years. Before the reduction of the power of Spain, the
Catholics were greatly stronger than the Protestants.
The latter are gradually come to an equality with them.
The Protestants are grown richer and more powerful, and
the Catholics weaker. The Protestant countries ought to
be, and really are, better peopled than those of the
Catholics; from whence it follows, first, that their
public revenues are more considerable, because they are
augmented in proportion to the number of those who pay
them: secondly, that their lands are better cultivated:
lastly, that trade flourishes better there, because
there are more people who have their fortunes to make;
and where there are more wants, there will be more
resources to supply them. When there are only a
sufficient number of people to cultivate the lands,
trade must needs perish; and where there are no more
than necessary for carrying on of trade, the cultivation
of the lands must be neglected; which is indeed to say,
that both must sink together, because no person can
apply himself to one but the other must suffer. As to
the Catholic countries, not only the cultivation of
their lands is neglected, but even their industry is
hurtful; it consists only in learning five or six words
of a dead language
. With this attainment, a man need not trouble himself
about his fortune; he will find in a cloister a life of
ease, which in the world would have cost him labour and
pains. This is not all: the dervises have in their hands
all the riches of the state; they are a society of
misers, who are always receiving, but never restore;
they are continually heaping up their revenues, to
acquire a large capital. So much wealth, if we may be
allowed the expression, falls into a dead palsy; and
there is no more circulation, no more trade, no more
arts, no more manufactories. There is no Protestant
prince who does not raise from his people much greater
taxes than the pope does from his subjects: yet these
latter are poor, whilst the former live in affluence.
Trade gives life to every thing among the one, but
monkery carries death among every thing belonging to the
others.
Paris, the 26th of
the moon Chahban, 1716.
LETTER CXVIII.
Usbek to the Same.
AS we have
nothing further to say of Asia and Europe, let us pass
on to Africa. But as we do not know the innermost parts
of it, we can hardly say any thing of it, except of the
coasts. Those of Barbary, where the Mahometan religion
is established, are not so well peopled, as they were in
the times of the Romans, for the reasons I have already
mentioned. As to the coasts of Guinea, they must have
been terribly stript in two hundred years, that the
petty kings, or heads of villages, sell their subjects
to the European princes, to be transported to their
colonies in America. What is very extraordinary is, that
this very America, which receives every year so many new
inhabitants, is itself a desert, and gains no advantage
by the continual losses of Africa. The slaves who are
removed into another climate, perish there by thousands;
and the labour of the mines, in which the natives of the
country and the strangers are continually employed, the
malignant vapours that arise from them, the quicksilver
which they are obliged always to use, destroy them
without remedy. Nothing can be more ridiculous than to
destroy an innumerable number of men, to take out of the
bowels of the earth gold and silver: those metals in
themselves absolutely useless, which are only riches
because they have been fixed upon for the marks of
riches.
Paris, the last of
the moon Chahban, 1718.
LETTER CXIX.
Usbek to the Same.
SOMETIMES
the fruitfulness of a people depends upon the minutest
circumstances in the world; in such a manner that often
nothing is necessary but a new turn in the imagination,
to render them much more numerous than they were. The
Jews so frequently exterminated, and always multiplying,
have repaired their continual losses and destructions,
by this single hope, which reigns amongst all their
families, of seeing the birth of a powerful king, who
shall be lord of the whole earth. The ancient kings of
Persia had not had so many thousand subjects, but on
account of this dogma in the religion of the Magi, that
the most pleasing acts to God that men can do, are, to
get a child, manure a field, and to plant a tree. If
China contains such a prodigious number of people, it
arises only from a certain way of thinking: for as the
children regard their fathers as Gods, whom they respect
as such in this life, whom they honour after their
deaths by sacrifices, in that they believe that their
souls extinguished in the Tyen
, resume a new life; every one therefore is induced to
increase a family so dutiful in this life, and so
necessary in the next. On the contrary, the countries of
the Mahometans every day become deserts, from an
opinion, which, all holy as it is, yet is not without
very hurtful consequences, when it is rooted in the
mind. We should consider ourselves as travellers who
ought to have all our thoughts fixed upon another
country: but all useful and permanent labours, every
care to secure fortunes for our children, schemes which
reach beyond this short and transitory life, appear as
things extravagant. Indolent to the present, and
unsolicitous for what is to come, we take no trouble to
repair public buildings, to clear uncultivated lands,
nor to manure those that are deserving of our cares; we
live in a general state of insensibility, and leave
every thing to be done by Providence. It was a spirit of
vanity that established among the Europeans the unjust
law of primogeniture, so unfavourable to propagation, in
that it directs the attention of a father to only one of
his children, and turns his eyes from all the others; in
that it obliges him, in order to make a solid fortune
for one only, to hinder the settlement of the rest;
lastly, in that it destroys the equality of citizens,
which constitutes all their wealth.
Paris, the 4th of
the moon Rhamazan, 1717.
LETTER CXX.
Usbek to the Same.
COUNTRIES
inhabited by savages are usually thinly peopled, from
the aversion they almost always have to labour and the
cultivation of lands. This unhappy aversion is so
strong, that when they would make an imprecation against
one of their enemies, they wish nothing more than that
he may be obliged to manure a field; thinking no
exercise noble and worthy of them, except hunting and
fishing. But as there are often years in which hunting
and fishing afford very little, they are desolated by
frequent famines: besides that there is not any country
where game and fish is so plentiful, as to afford
subsistence to a numerous people, because animals always
fly from places too much inhabited. Besides the hords of
the savages, with two or three hundred inhabitants in
each, separated from one another, and having interests
as different as those of two empires, can never support
themselves; because they have not the resources of great
states, whose parts all unite and mutually assist each
other. There is another custom among the savages, not
less prejudicial than the first; the cruel custom among
the women of procuring abortions, that their bigness may
not render them disagreeable to their husbands. There
are terrible laws here against this crime; they carry
them even to excess. Any woman who does not declare her
pregnancy to a magistrate, is punished with death if her
fruit is lost: shame and modesty, nay accidents
themselves, do not excuse them.
Paris, the 9th of
the moon Rhamazan, 1718.
LETTER CXXI.
Usbek to the Same.
THE
ordinary effect of colonies is the weakening of the
countries from which they are drawn, without peopling
that to which they are removed. Men ought to remain
where they are: there are disorders contracted by
changing a good for a bad air; and others which come
from changing at all. The air, like plants, is charged
with the particles of each country. It so acts upon us,
that our constitution is fixed by it. When we are
removed into another country we grow sick. The fluids
being accustomed to a certain consistency, the solids to
a certain habit, and both to a certain degree of motion,
cannot admit of others, and resist a new habit. When a
country is a desert, it is a sign that there is some
particular bad quality in the nature of the earth or
climate: so that when we take men from a happy climate,
to send them into such a country, we act directly
contrary to the end we designed. The Romans knew this by
experience; they banished all their criminals into
Sardinia, and made the Jews go there too. They were
obliged to be contented with their loss; which the
contempt they had for those wretches made very easy to
them. The great Cha-Abbas, inclined to deprive the Turks
of the means of supporting great armies upon his
frontiers, transported almost all the Armenians out of
their own country, and sent more than twenty thousand
families into the province of Guilan, who almost all
perished in a little time. All the removals of people to
Constantinople have never succeeded, the vast numbers of
Negroes, whom we have already mentioned, have not filled
America. From the destruction of the Jews, under Adrian,
Palestine hath been uninhabited. It must then be allowed
that great depopulations are scarcely to be repaired;
because a people reduced to a certain degree, continue
in the same state: and if, by cance they are
re-established, it must be the work of whole ages. But
if, in a state of decay, the least of the circumstances
already mentioned, happens to occur, it not only can
never repair itself, but decays every day, and
approaches to its utter destruction. The expulsion of
the Moors out of Spain is now as much felt as at the
first day: so far is that vacancy from being filled up,
that it becomes greater every day. Since the devastation
of America the Spaniards, who have taken place of its
ancient inhabitants, have not been able to re-people it:
on the contrary, by a fatality, which I might better
call the divine justice, the destroyers destroy
themselves, and daily consume away. Princes therefore
must not think of peopling large countries by colonies.
I do not say they never succeed: there are some climates
so very favourable, that the inhabitants multiply there
continually, witness those islands
which were peopled by some distempered people whom some
ships left there, and where they soon recovered their
health. But though such colonies should always succeed,
instead of increasing the power, they only divide it;
unless they are but of small extent; as those are, where
they send some to inhabit a place for the convenience of
trade. The Carthaginians, as well as the Spaniards,
discovered America, at least some large islands in which
they carried on a very great trade: but when they found
the number of their inhabitants decreased, this wife
republic forbid their subjects that trade and
navigation. I may venture to say, that instead of
sending Spaniards into the Indies, they ought to make
all the Indians and all the Metifs remove into Spain:
and if only half of those great colonies were preserved,
Spain would become the most formidable power in Europe.
We may compare empires to a tree, whose branches if
extended too far, draw all the sap from the trunk, and
serve only for a shade. Nothing is properer to cure the
arduous desire in princes of making distant conquests,
than the examples of the Portugueze and Spaniards. These
two nations having conquered, with inconceivable
rapidity, immense kingdoms, more astonished at their own
victories, than the conquered people were at their own
defeat, considered of the means to preserve them, and
took each for that end a different way. The Spaniards,
despairing of keeping the conquered nations in
subjection, determined to exterminate them, and send
thither more loyal people from Spain; never horrible
design was more punctually executed. A people as
numerous as all those of Europe together, were cut off
from the earth, at the arrival of these barbarians, who
seemed, in discovering the Indies, to have thought only
of discovering to mankind the utmost reach of cruelty.
By this barbarity they kept the country under their
government. Judge by this what fatal things conquests
are, since the effects are such as these: for, in short,
this terrible expedient was the only one. How was it
possible they could have kept so many millions of men in
their obedience? How could they have supported a civil
war at such a distance? What would have become of them,
if they had given time to those people to have recovered
from the consternation they were in at the arrival of
these new gods, and at the terror of their thunder? As
to the Portuguese, they took a quite contrary method;
they did not make use of cruelties: therefore they were
soon drove out of all the countries they had discovered.
The Dutch favoured the rebellion of those nations, and
profited themselves by it. What prince would envy the
lot of these conquerors? Who would enjoy these conquests
upon such conditions? The one were soon driven out, the
others made nothing but deserts, and rendered their own
countries the same. It is the fate of heroes to ruin
themselves by conquering of countries which they
suddenly lose again, or by subduing of nations which
they themselves are obliged to destroy; like that madman
who ruined himself by buying statues which he threw into
the sea, and glasses which he broke as soon as he had
purchased them.
Paris, the 18th of
the moon Rhamazan, 1718.
LETTER CXXII.
Usbek to the Same.
THE propagation
of mankind is vastly promoted by a mild government. All
republics are certain proofs of this; and above all
others, Swisserland and Holland, which are the two worst
countries in Europe, if we consider the nature of their
land, and which are nevertheless the best peopled.
Nothing invites strangers more than liberty and wealth,
which always follow the former: the first is searched
after for its own sake; and we are led by our wants into
the country where the latter is to be acquired. The
species increase itself in a country where the plenty of
it supports the children without diminishing the
substance of their fathers. The equality of citizens,
which commonly produces an equality in their fortunes,
brings plenty and life into every part of the body
politic, and extends them through the whole. In
countries subject to an arbitrary power it is not the
same: the prince, the courtiers, and some private
persons, possess all the riches, whilst all the rest
groan beneath extreme poverty. If a man is in bad
circumstances, and is sensible that his children would
be poorer than himself, he will not marry; or if he does
marry, he will be afraid of having too great a number of
children, who may complete the destruction of his
fortune, and sink into the condition of their father. I
own that the rustic or peasant, being once married, will
people that state alike, whether he be rich or poor;
this consideration does not affect him, he hath always a
sure inheritance to leave to his children, which is a
plough, and nothing prevents him from blindly following
the instinct of nature. But what purpose, in a state, do
those numbers of children answer, who languish in
misery? Almost all of them perish as soon as they are
born: they seldom thrive; weak and seeble they die by
retail, a thousand different ways, whilst others are
carried away wholesale by frequent popular distempers,
which poverty and a bad diet always produce: those which
escape, reach the age of manhood without having the
strength of it, and languish all the remainder of their
lives. Men are like plants, that never flourish if they
are not well cultivated: among a miserable people, the
species loses, and even sometimes degenerates. France
can supply us with a sufficient proof of this. In the
late wars, the fear all the youths were in of being
enrolled in the militia, forced them to marry, and this
at too tender an age, and in the bosom of poverty. From
so many marriages sprung such numbers of children, which
are now looked for in vain, and whom misery, famine, and
sickness, have destroyed. Now, if in so happy a climate,
in a kingdom of so much policy as France, such remarks
as these may be made, what may be done in other states?
Paris, the 23d of
the moon Ramazan, 1718.
LETTER CXXIII.
Usbek to
Mollak Mahomet Ali, Keeper
of the Three Sepulchres, at Com.
THE
fastings of the Imaums, and the sackcloths of the
Mollaks, what do they profit us? Twice hath the hand of
God been heavy upon the children of the law: the sun is
obscured with clouds, and seems to give light only to
their defeats; their armies assemble, and they are
dispersed like the dust. The empire of the Osmalins is
shaken by two such blows as it never before received: A
Christian Mufti
supports it with difficulty: the Grand Vizier of Germany
is the Scourge of God, sent to chastise the followers of
Omar: he carries every where the wrath of heaven,
incensed by their rebellion and perfidiousness. Sacred
spirit of the Imaums, night and day thou weepest over
the children of the prophet, whom the detestable Omar
hath misled: thy bowels are moved at the sight of their
misfortunes: thou desirest their conversion, and not
their destruction; thou wouldst willingly see them
united under the banner of Hali, by the tears of the
saints; and not dispersed among the mountains, and in
the deserts, by the terror of the infidels.
Paris, the 1st of
the moon Chalval, 1718.
LETTER CXXIV.
Usbek to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
WHAT can be the
motives of those immense liberalities which princes
lavish upon their courtiers? Would they attach them to
them? They have already gained them as much as they can.
And, besides, if they gain some of their subjects by
briding them, they must by that very means lose a
prodigious number of others by impoverishing them. When
I think on the situation of princes, always surrounded
with avaritious and insatiable men, I cannot but pity
them: and I commiserate them the more, when they have
not courage enough to refuse demands always burthensome
to those who ask nothing. I never hear talk of their
liberality, of the favours and pensions which they
grant, without indulging myself with a thousand
reflections: a crowd of ideas offer themselves to my
mind: I think I hear this ordinance published: ‘The
indefatigable courage of some of our subjects, in asking
pensions from us, having, without ceasing, fatigued our
royal magnificence, we have at last consented to the
multitude of requests presented to us, which have
hitherto been the greatest uneasiness of the throne.
They have represented to us, that they have never
failed, since our accession to the throne, attending at
our levee; and that we have always seen them as we
passed along, immoveable as the boundaries of land; and
that they have greatly raised themselves above the
shoulders of others, to behold our serenity. We have
even received several petitions from some of the fair
sex, supplicating us to observe, that it is notorious
that they are of a very reserved conversation: and some
of them, who are very ancient, shaking their heads, have
intreated us to consider, that they have been the
ornaments of the courts of the kings our predecessors;
and that if the generals of our armies rendered the
state formidable by their military actions, they no less
rendered the court celebrated by their intrigues.
Therefore, desirous to treat these suppliants
graciously, and to grant them all their petitions, we
have commanded what follows:—That every labourer having
five children, shall daily retrench the fifth part of
the bread he gives them.—We also enjoin fathers of
families to make a diminution from each in their house,
as justly as can be made. We expressly forbid all those
who apply themselves to improve their estates, or who
let them out in farms, to make any repairs in them of
what kind soever. We also order, that all persons who
exercise low trades and mechanics, who have never been
at the levee of our majesty, shall hereafter purchase no
clothes for themselves, their wives, and their children,
but once in every four years: further, strictly
forbidding them those little rejoicings which they were
accustomed to make in their families upon the principal
festivals in the year. And, forasmuch as we are
informed, that the greatest part of the citizens of our
good towns are wholly engaged in providing an
establishment for their daughters, who have made
themselves respectable in our state, only by a dull
joyless modesty; we order that they delay marrying them,
till they, having attained to the age appointed by
ordinances, may have it in their power to oblige them to
it. We charge our magistrates not to take care of the
education of their children.’
Paris, the 1st of
the moon Chalval, 1718.
LETTER CXXV.
Rica to
* * *.
IN all religions
men are at a great loss, when they attempt to give an
account of the pleasures appointed for those who have
led good lives. The wicked may be easily terrified by a
long detail of pains and torments, with which they are
threatened; but as for the virtuous they know not what
to promise them. It seems to be the nature of pleasures
to be of short duration, the imagination can hardly form
to itself any others. I have heard descriptions of
Paradise capable of disgusting every sensible person.
The happy shades, according to the fancy of some, are
continually playing on the flute, others condemn them to
the punishment of eternally walking about; others, in
short, make those above to be always raving after their
mistresses here below, not thinking a hundred millions
of years long enough to make them get quit of their
amorous inquietudes. I remember, on this occasion, a
story I heard told by a person who had been in the
country of the Mogul; which shows that the Indian
priests are no less fruitful than others in the ideas
they have of the pleasures of Paradise.—A woman who had
just lost her husband, went in form to the governor of
the city to ask his leave to burn herself; but as in the
countries subject to the Mahometans they abolish this
cruel custom as much as they can, he absolutely refused
her. When she saw her prayers were in vain, she flew
into a furious passion. “How tormenting, said she, is
this! A poor woman is not even permitted to burn herself
when she hath a mind to it! Was ever the like seen? My
mother, my aunt, my sisters, they all were happily
burnt. And when I come to beg leave of this cursed
governor, to be permitted to burn myself, he falls into
a passion, and raves like a madman.” There happened to
be present a young Bonze: “Insidel, said the governor to
him, is it you who have instilled this madness into the
mind of the woman?” “No, replied he, I never spoke to
her; but if she will be guided by me, she shall perform
her sacrifice; she will do an action agreeable to the
god Brama: and she shall also be well recompensed; for
she shall find in the other world her husband, and be
joined to him again by a second marriage.” “What do you
say? cried the woman in a fright—I shall find my husband
again? Ah! I will never burn myself.—He was jealous,
stupid, and besides so old, that, if the god Brama hath
made no reformation in him, he certainly hath no need of
me.—Burn myself for him!—not even the end of my finger
to take him out of the bottom of hell. Two old Bonzes
deceived me, who knew what kind of life I led with him,
and took care not to tell me this: but, if the god Brama
hath no other present to make me, I renounce this
blessedness, Mr. governor, I turn Mahometan. And for
you, said she, looking at the Bonze, you may, if you
please, go tell my husband I find myself extremely
well.”
Paris, the 2d of
the moon Chalval, 1718.
LETTER CXXVI.
Rica to
Usbek, at * * *.
I EXPECT thee
here to-morrow: mean time I send thee thy letters from
Ispahan. Mine bring word that the ambassador from the
great Mogul hath received orders to quite the kingdom.
They add, that they have arrested the prince, uncle to
the king, and who had the care of his education, that
they have carried him to a castle, where he is closely
guarded; and have deprived him of all his honours. I am
touched with the misfortune of this prince, and pity
him. I own to thee, Usbek, I never saw the tears of any
person trickle down, without being moved to compassion:
I have the feelings of humanity for the unhappy, as if
none but they were men: and even the great, towards whom
I find my heart as stone whilst they are in prosperity,
I love them when they are fallen. And indeed, during
their prosperity what need have they of tenderness? It
looks too much like equality. They are fonder of
respect, which requires no return. But as soon as they
are fallen from their high station, nothing but our
lamentations can make them recal the idea of their
greatness. I think there is something very natural and
very great in the speech of a prince, who, being very
near falling into the hands of his enemies, seeing his
courtiers round about him weeping: I find, said he to
them, by your tears, that I am still your king.
Paris, the 3d of
the moon Chalval, 1718.
LETTER CXXVII.
Rica to
Ibben, at Smyrna.
A THOUSAND
times thou hast heard talk of the famous king of Sweden;
he was besieging a place, in the kingdom of Norway; as
he was visiting the trenches, with only one engineer, he
received a shot in his head which killed him. They
immediately arrested his prime minister
, the states assembled, and condemned him to lose his
head. He was accused of a very great crime; namely, of
calumniating the nation, and depriving them of the
confidence of their king: an offence that in my opinion
merits a thousand deaths. For in short it is a bad
action to blacken the lowest subjects in the mind of
their king; what is it then to traduce a whole nation,
and to deprive them of the goodwill of him whom
providence hath made choice of to render them happy? I
would have men speak to kings, as the angels spoke to
our holy propher. Thou knowest that, in the sacred
banquets, where the Lord of Lords descends from the most
sublime throne in the world, to communicate himself to
his slaves, I made a severe law to myself, to restrain
an unruly tongue. They never heard me utter a single
word that might have been disagreeable to the meanest of
his subjects. Though I happened to lose my sobriety, I
never lost my honesty; and in that trial of our
fidelity, I ventured my life, but never my virtue. I
know not how it happens, but there is scarcely a king so
bad, but his minister is still worse; if he commits a
bad action, he is almost always prompted to it:
insomuch, that the ambition of princes is never so
dangerous, as the baseness of soul in his counsellors.
But can you comprehend, that a man, who was a minister
but yesterday, who may be deprived of his place
tomorrow, can become in a moment an enemy to himself,
his friends, his country, and to the people who are to
be born of those whom he is about to oppress? A prince
hath passions; the minister works upon them: it is by
their means that he directs his ministry; he hath no
other aim, nor will he observe any other. The courtiers
mislead him by their flattery, and he flatters him more
dangerously by his counsels, by the designs he inspires
him with, and by the maxims he proposes to him.
Paris, the 25th of
the moon Saphar, 1719.
LETTER CXXVIII.
Rica to
Usbek, at * * *.
THE other day,
as I was passing over the Pontneuf, with a friend
of mine, he met a man of his acquaintance, who, he told
me, was a geometrician, and indeed every thing in him
showed him such: for he was in a deep meditation; my
friend was obliged to pull him a long time by the
sleeve, and to jog him, to make him descend from his
sublime speculations; he was so busied with a curve,
which he had been perhaps eight days about. Great
civilities passed between them, and they mutually
informed each other of the literary news. This
conversation led them to the door of a coffee-house,
into which I went with them. I observed that our
geometrician was received there with the utmost
officiousness, and that the coffee-house boys paid him
much more respect than to two musqueteers, who were in a
corner of the room. As for him, he seemed as if he
thought himself in an agreeable place: for he unwrinkled
his brow a little, and laughed, as if he had not the
least tincture of the geometrician in him. In the mean
time he measured every thing that was said in
conversation. He resembled a person in a garden, who
with a sword cuts off all the heads of the flowers that
rise up above the rest. A martyr to regularity, he was
offended at every start of wit, as a tender eye is by
too strong a light. Nothing was indifferent to him, if
so be it were true; accordingly his conversation was
singular. He was come that day out of the country, with
a person who had been to view a noble seat and
magnificent gardens; but he saw nothing but a building
of sixty foot in front, by five and thirty in depth, and
a wood of ten acres: he wished that the rules of
perspective had been so observed, that the walks of the
avenues might have appeared throughout of one and the
same breadth; and he would have laid down for that end,
an infallible method. He seemed very well satisfied with
a dial he found there, of a very singular make, and was
mighty angry at a learned man, who sat next me, who
unhappily asked if the dial showed the Babylonian hours.
A newsmonger talked of the bombardment of the castle of
Fontarabbia: and he presently informed us what kind of
lines the bombs described in the air; and delighted with
the knowledge of this, he was contented to remain
entirely ignorant of the success of the bombardment. A
gentleman complaining, that the winter before he had
been ruined by an inundation: what you say pleases me
much, said the geometrician, I find I am not mistaken in
the observation I made, and that at least, there fell
upon the earth two inches of water more than the year
before. A moment after, he went out, and we followed
him. As he walked very fast, and never looked before
him, he run full against another man: it was a rough
rencounter, and, from the percussion, each rebounded
back, in proportion to his velocity and bulk. When they
were a little recovered from their dizziness, the man,
with his hand on his forehead, said to the geometrician,
I am very glad you run against me, for I have great news
to tell you: I have just now published my Horace.
How! replied the geometrician, Horace hath been
published these two thousand years. You do not
understand me, says the other, it is a translation of
that ancient author, which I have just now published: I
have been twenty years engaged in translations. How,
Sir! answered the geometrician, have you been twenty
years without thinking? You speak for others, and they
think for you? Sir, says the learned man, do not you
believe that I have rendered a great service to the
public, by making the reading of good authors familiar
to them? I do not say absolutely so: I esteem as much as
another the sublime genius whom you have travestied: but
you do not at all resemble him; for, if you should
translate for ever, you will never be translated
yourself. Translations are like copper money, which bear
in proportion, an equal value with a piece of gold, and
are even sometimes of far greater use to the people, but
they are always light, and of a bad alloy. You are
desirous, you say, to revive among us these illustrious
dead; and I own that you give them indeed a body: but
you do not restore life to them, there is still wanting
a spirit to animate them. Why do not you rather apply
yourself to the search of a thousand glorious truths,
which an easy calculation discovers to us every day?
After this advice, they parted, I suppose, not much
pleased with each other.
Paris, the last of
the moon Rebiab, 1719.
LETTER CXXIX.
Usbek to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
THE greater part
of the legislators were men of confined understandings,
whom chance put at the head of others, and who scarcely
consulted any thing but their own prejudices and
fancies. They appear not to have known the greatness and
dignity of their employment: they amused themselves in
forming childish institutions, by which, indeed, they
conformed themselves to weaker understandings, but
disgraced themselves with men of good sense. They
plunged themselves into disadvantageous circumstances;
and run into particular cares: which is the sign of a
narrow genius, which sees things only by parts,
incapable of taking a general view. Some affected to
make use of a language different from the vulgar; an
absurd thing in a maker of laws; for how should the
people observe what they do not understand? They often
abolished needlessly, those laws that were established;
thereby plunging the people into disorders inseparable
from changes. It is true, that on account of a strange
turn that springs rather from the head than the heart,
it is sometimes necessary to change certain laws. But it
is an uncommon case; and when it happens, it should be
touched with a timorous hand: they ought to observe much
solemnity in doing it, and conduct it with such
precautions, that the people may naturally conceive that
the laws are very sacred, since so many formalities are
necessary to be observed in repealing them. They have
often made them too refined, and have followed logical
ideas, rather than natural equity. In process of time
they were found to be severe; and men thought themselves
obliged in equity to deviate from them; but this remedy
was a new inconvenience. Be the laws of what nature they
will, they should be always punctually adhered to, and
considered as the conscience of the public, to which
that of individuals should always be conformable. We
should however acknowledge, that some legislators have
by one regulation discovered great prudence, they have
given fathers a great share of authority over their
children. Nothing contributes more to the ease of the
magistrates; nothing more prevents the courts of justice
from being crowded; nothing more firmly establishes
tranquility in a state, where morality always makes
better citizens than laws can make. Of all sorts of
authority this is the seldomest abused: this is the most
sacred sort of magistracy; it is the only one which does
not owe its origin to any contract, but has even
preceded all contracts. It has been observed, that in
the countries where the greatest share of power is
lodged in the hands of parents, the families are always
best regulated: fathers are representatives of the
Creator of the Universe, who, though he might bind men
to serve him through love alone, has thought proper to
attach them to him still stronger by the motives of hope
and fear. I cannot finish this letter, without putting
you in mind of the capriciousness of the French. It is
said that they have retained many things in the Roman
laws, which are either useless, or worse; and they have
not borrowed from them the parental authority, which
they represent as the basis of all lawful authority.
Paris, the 4th day
of the moon of the 2d Gemmadi, 1719.
LETTER CXXX.
Rica to
* * *.
I SHALL in this
letter give thee an account of the race of Quidnuncs,
who assemble in a magnificent garden, where their
leisure finds constant employment. They are of no manner
of use to the state; and were they to talk fifty years
without pausing, their discourse would produce no
greater effect than a silence of the same duration: yet
they think themselves men of importance, because they
harangue upon glorious projects, and talk of grand
interests. A curiosity at once frivolous and ridiculous
is the basis of their conversation: no cabinet can be so
mysterious, but they pretend to dive into its secrets:
they will not allow themselves to be ignorant of any
thing; they know how many wives our august Sultan has,
how many children he begets every year; and though they
are at no expence to hire spies, they are acquainted
with the measures to humble the emperor of the Turks and
the Great Mogul. Scarcely have they exhausted the
present, but they plunge deep into futurity; and taking
the lead of providence, they prevent it in all its
conduct towards man. They lead a general by the hand,
and after having praised him for many follies of which
he never was guilty, they make him commit a thousand
more, which will never come to pass. They make armies
fly like cranes, and the walls of cities fall as easily
as the walls of a card-house: they have bridges upon all
the rivers, secret roads upon every mountain, immense
magazines upon burning sands: in fine, they want but one
thing, and that is good sense. A man who lodges in the
same house with me, received the following letter from a
Quidnunc: as it appeared somewhat extraordinary, I kept
it, and shall give it to you in this place.
‘Sir,
‘I am seldom
mistaken in my conjectures upon public affairs. Upon the
first of January, 1711, I foretold that the emperor
would die within the year: it is true, as he was then in
good health, I was apprehensive of becoming an object of
ridicule, if I declared my sentiments in express terms;
for which reason I used expressions somewhat
enigmatical; but all rational people easily guessed my
meaning. He died of the small-pox in the same year, upon
the 17th of April. As soon as war was declared between
the emperor and the Turks, I went through every corner
of the Tuilleries in quest of our gentlemen: I assembled
them near the bason, and prophesied to them that
Belgrade would be besieged and taken. I had the
happiness of seeing my prediction fulfilled. It is true,
about the middle of the siege, I laid a wager of 100
pistoles, that it would be taken on the 18th of August:
it was however taken the day after: is it not provoking
to lose when so near the mark? When I saw the Spanish
fleet invade Sardinia, I imagined they would reduce the
island; I said so, and my conjecture was justified by
the event. Encouraged by this success, I added, that
this victorious fleet would make a descent at Final, in
order to reduce the Milanese. As this opinion met with
opposition, I was resolved to support it nobly: I laid a
wager of 50 pistoles, and I lost a second time: for that
confounded cardinal Alberoni, in violation of the faith
of treaties, sent his fleet to Sicily, and proved at
once too hard for two great politicians, I mean the duke
of Savoy and myself. All this, Sir, has so greatly
disconcerted me, that I have formed a resolution to
foretel henceforward without ever betting. Formerly the
practice of betting was unknown at the Tuilleries, and
the count de L— would never suffer them; but since a
considerable number of petit maītres has mixed with our
society, we scarce know what to do. Scarce can we open
our lips to tell a piece of news, but one of these
youngsters offers to lay a wager that it is not true.
The other day, as I was opening my manuscript, and
settling my spectacles upon my nose, one of those flashy
gentlemen, catching at the pause I made between the
first and second word, told me, I’ll hold a hundred
pistoles to the contrary. I affected not to have taken
notice of this extravagance, and speaking in more
emphatical terms, I said, the marshal of * * * having
learned — that is false, said he, you always propagate
extravagant intelligence; there is not common sense in
what you say. Sir, you would greatly oblige me by
lending me fifty pistoles, for these wagers have been
the occasion of great perplexity to me. I herewith send
you the copy of two letters, which I have wrote to the
minister.’
The Letter of an
Intelligencer to the Minister.
‘My Lord,
‘I am one of the
most loyal subjects the king ever had. It was I that
prevailed on a friend to put in execution the project I
had formed of a book to prove to a demonstration, that
Lewis the Great was by all means the greatest Prince
that ever was surnamed the great. I have been moreover a
long time employed in another work, which will
contribute to raise our national glory still higher, if
your eminence will grant me a privilege; my design is to
prove that since the foundation of the monarchy, the
French never lost a battle; and that what historians
have hitherto said of our having been sometimes worsted,
is utterly false and groundless. I am obliged to set
them right upon many occasions; and I think I may say,
without vanity, that I have great talents for criticism.
‘I am, My Lord,’ &c.
‘My Lord,
‘As we have lost
the Count de L— we beg you will be so kind as to give us
leave to elect a president. Great confusion begins to
prevail in our conferences; and state affairs are not in
them treated with as much method and regularity as they
have been formerly: our young men live without the least
respect for the old, and without any subordination
amongst themselves; it is a true council of Roboam, in
which the young keep the old in awe. It is in vain for
us to remonstrate to them, that we were in possession of
the Tuilleries long before they were born. I am inclined
to think they will at last drive us out of it; and that
being deprived of the assylum where we had often called
up the shades of our French heroes, we shall be obliged
to assemble in the king’s garden, or in some more remote
place.
‘I am,’ &c.
Paris, the 7th day
of the moon of the 2d Gemmadi, 1719.
LETTER CXXXI.
Rhedi to
Rica, at
Paris.
SINCE my arrival
in Europe, nothing has more engaged my curiosity, than
the history and origin of republics. You are not
ignorant that most of the Asiatics have not even an idea
of this form of government, and that the powers of
imagination have not yet enabled them to conceive that
there can be on earth any other form but the despotic.
The first governments of which we have any knowledge
were monarchical; it was merely by accident, and the
succession of ages, that republics were at length
formed. Greece having been overflowed by a deluge, new
inhabitants came to people it: it drew all its colonies
from Egypt and the neighbouring countries of Africa: and
as those were governed by kings, the people who came
from thence were governed in the same manner. But the
tyranny of these princes becoming insupportable, they
shook off the yoke; and from the ruins of so many
kingdoms sprung those republics which caused Greece so
greatly to flourish, and rendered it the model of
politeness, whilst surrounded with barbarous nations.
The love of liberty, and the aversion to kings, long
preserved Greece in a state of independence, and made
the republican form of government become every day more
extensive. The cities of Greece made alliances with some
cities of Asia Minor, they sent thither colonies as free
as themselves, which served them as ramparts against the
enterprises of the kings of Persia. This is not all;
Greece peopled Italy; Italy, Spain, and perhaps Gaul. It
is well known that the great Hesperia, so much renowned
among the ancients, was at first the Greece considered
by neighbouring nations as a blissful abode; the Greeks
who could not find that happy place of residence at
home, went in quest of it to Italy; those of Italy to
Spain; those of Spain to Bettica or Portugal. So that
these regions went by that appellation amongst the
ancients. These Greek colonies brought with them a
spirit of liberty, which they had contracted in that
mild country. It is for this reason we do not meet with
any example of a monarchy in Italy, Spain, or Gaul,
during these ancient ages. It will be soon seen, that
the people of the North, and of Germany, were no less
free: and if any traces of kingly government are thought
to be found amongst them, this may easily be accounted
for, as the commanders of armies, and the chief
magistrates of republics, have frequently been taken for
kings. All this happened in Europe, for Asia and Africa
have always groaned beneath the yoke of despotism,
excepting only the cities of Asia Minor, which have been
spoken of above, and the republic of Carthage in Africa.
The empire of the world was shared by two powerful
republics, I mean those of Rome and Carthage: no part of
history is less known than that of the origin of the
republic of Carthage. We are totally in the dark with
regard to the succession of African princes, from the
time of Dido, as well as of the manner in which they
were deprived of their power. The prodigious grandeur of
the Roman commonwealth would have been an advantage to
the world in general, if there had not been that unjust
distinction between the citizens of Rome and the
conquered nations, if the governors of provinces had not
been invested with an authority so considerable, if the
just laws, established in opposition to their tyranny,
had been always put in execution, and if they had not,
in order to render them of no effect, availed themselves
of the very treasures which they had amassed by their
injustice. Cęsar destroyed the Roman commonwealth, and
made it subject to an arbitrary power. Europe long
groaned under a military and violent government, and the
mild sway of the Romans was converted into a cruel
oppression. In the mean time, an infinite number of
nations, never before heard of, poured out of the north,
and spread like torrents all over the Roman provinces;
as these found it equally easy to make conquests, and to
exercise piracy, they dismembered the empire, and
founded other kingdoms upon its ruins. These people were
free; and the authority of their kings was so limited,
that they could properly be called only their chiefs, or
generals. Thus these kingdoms, though founded by force,
never once felt the conqueror’s yoke. When the people of
Asia, for example, the Turks and Tartars, made conquests
whilst under the command of a single person, they had
nothing else in view but to procure him new subjects,
and to establish his violent authority by the force of
arms; but the people of the north, free in their own
country, when they seized upon the Roman provinces, did
not allow their chiefs much authority; nay some of these
people, as the Vandals in Africa, and the Goths in
Spain, went so far as to depose their kings, when they
were dissatisfied with their conduct; and amongst
others, the authority of the prince was limited in a
variety of manners: a great number of the nobility
shared it with him; wars were never waged without their
concurrence; the spoils were divided between the chief
and the soldiers; no tax was levied in favour of the
prince; the laws were made in the national assembly, and
upon this fundamental principle were formed all the
states that rose out of the ruins of the Roman empire.
Venice, the 20th of
the moon Rhegeb, 1719.
LETTER CXXXII.
Rica to
* * *.
I HAPPENED to be
five or six months ago in a coffee-house: there I
observed a gentleman tolerably well dressed, who had got
an audience about him; he spoke of the pleasure of
living at Paris; he lamented the necessity he lay under
of retiring to languish away his life in the country. I
have, said he, an estate of fifteen thousand livres
a-year in land; and I should think myself much more
happy, if I had one quarter of it in money and portable
effects. It is to no purpose for me to bear hard upon my
tenants, and put them to expence by frequent law-suits,
this only makes them less able to pay. I can never see a
hundred pistoles at a time. If I was to owe ten thousand
livres, all my land would be seized on, and I should be
reduced to an hospital. I went out without giving much
attention to all this conversation; but happening to be
yesterday in the same part of the town, I entered the
same house, and I there saw a grave man, with a long
pale visage, who sat melancholy and pensive in the midst
of five or six praters; at length beginning somewhat
abruptly, he said, with a loud voice, Gentlemen, I am
ruined, I have nothing left to live upon; for I have now
at home two hundred thousand livres in bank-bills, and a
hundred thousand crowns in money: I am in a most
melancholy situation; I thought myself rich, and now I
find myself reduced to beggary; if I had but a small
estate in the country to retire to, I should at least be
secure of a subsistence; but I have not the breadth of
this hat in land. Happening to turn my head on the other
side, I saw a man who made such grimaces, that one would
have thought him possessed. Who can we trust for the
future? exclaimed he. There is a villain whom I had so
good an opinion of, and thought so sincerely my friend,
that I lent him money: he paid me again! what black
persidy and ingratitude is this? let him do what he
will, he will never be able to retrieve my good opinion.
Near him was a man very ill dressed, who listing up his
eyes to heaven, said, God prosper the projects of our
ministers, may the actions rise to two thousand livres,
and the footmen of Paris be richer than their masters! I
had the curiosity to ask his name. The answer I received
was, he is a very poor man, and has a poor trade: he is
a genealogist, and he hopes that his art will become
profitable, if these changes of fortune continue, and
that all the new rich will have occasion for him to
reform their names, furbish up their ancestors, and
adorn their coaches. He has a notion that he will have
it in his power to make as many persons of quality as he
thinks proper, and he exults within himself to think,
that the number of his customers will increase. At last
I saw an old man enter, pale and thin, whom I knew to be
a coffee-house politician before he sat down: he was not
one of those who are never to be intimidated by
disasters, but always prophecies of victories and
success; he was one of those timorous wretches who are
always boding ill. Our affairs, said he, are in a very
bad situation in Spain, we have no horse upon the
frontiers; and it is to be feared that the prince Pio,
who has a considerable body, will levy contributions
upon the whole province of Languedoc. There sat opposite
to me a philosopher of a tolerably shabby appearance,
who seemed to despise the politician, and shrugged his
shoulders in token of contempt, whilst the other
elevated the tone of his voice. I approached him, and he
whispered in my ear, you see how that coxcomb talks of
his apprehensions for Languedoc: and I for my part
yesterday perceived a spot in the sun, which, if it
should increase, might cause a general dissolution of
nature, and yet I did not say a single word about it.
Paris, the 17th of
the moon Rhamazan, 1719.
LETTER CXXXIII.
Rica to
* * *.
I WENT the other
day to see a great library at a convent of dervises, who
are in some measure the proprietors of it, but who are
obliged to give admittance to all comers at stated
hours. Upon entering, I beheld a serious personage, who
walked amidst a prodigious number of surrounding
volumes. I went up to him, and begged he would be so
kind as to inform me what those books were which I saw
so much better bound than the rest. “Sir, says he, I am
here as the inhabitant of a foreign country, I know
nobody. Many besides you have proposed such questions to
me; but you cannot think it reasonable that I should
read all these books, in order to give them information;
my librarian here can satisfy your curiosity, for he is
busred night and day in decyphering what you see here;
he is a very worthless member, and a great burthen to
us, because he does nothing for the convent. But the
bell rings to call me to the refectory. Those who, like
me, are at the head of a society, should be the first to
assist at all the exercises peculiar to it. The monk
having spoken thus, pushed me out, shut the door, and
disappeared, just as if he had possessed the art of
flying.
Paris, the 21st of
the moon Rhamazan, 1719.
LETTER CXXXIV.
Rica to the Same.
I YESTERDAY
returned to the same library, where I met with a man
very different from him whom I had seen before. His air
was simple, his countenance lively, and his address
affable. As soon as I signified to him my curiosity, he
prepared to gratify it, and even to instruct me, as I
appeared to be a stranger. “Reverend father said I, what
are those books with which all that side of the library
is filled?” “Those are the works of the interpreters of
scripture,” answered he. “There is a prodigious number
of them, replied I; scripture must have been formerly
very obscure, but very perspicuous at present. Can there
possibly be any doubts remaining? Can there possibly be
any uncontroverted points? “Can there possibly! answered
he, good God! can there possibly! There are almost as
many doubts as verses.” “Indeed, said I, what good then
have the writings of these authors done?” “These
authors, answered he, have not searched the scriptures,
for what should be believed, but what they believed
themselves; they did not consider the scriptures as
books containing the opinions they were bound to
embrace, but as a work which might give a sanction to
their own opinions: for this reason, they have every
where corrupted its sense, and put forced constructions
upon every passage. It resembles a country, which men of
every sect invade, and to which they go as it were to
pillage; it is a field of battle, where the hostile
nations that meet have frequent engagements, where they
attack each other, and where they have skirmishes of
various sorts. Not far from these you see the ascetic
books, or books of devotion; then follow the books of
morality, which are of much greater utility; theological
tracts, doubly intelligible, both on account of the
subject there treated of, and the manner in which it is
treated; the works of the mystics, that is, of such
devotees as have hearts addicted to love and
tenderness.” “Hold, reverend father, one moment, said I;
let me hear something of those mystics.” “Sir, said he,
devotion warms a heart naturally inclined, and causes
the animal spirits to mount up to the brain, so as to
warm it in the same manner: from hence proceed ecstasies
and ravishing visions. This state may be called the
delirium of devotion; it often attains to the perfection
of, or rather degenerates into quietism: you cannot be
ignorant that a quietist is nothing else but a man that
is at once mad, devout, and a libertine. Behold there
the casuists who reveal the secrets of the night; who
form in their imagination all the monsters that the
dęmon of love is capable of producing, combine, compare
them, and make them the constant objects of their
thoughts; happy is it for them if their heart is not
catched in the snare, and does not itself become an
accomplice in so many debaucheries, so exactly and so
plainly described. You see, Sir, that I think freely,
and that I freely discover my thoughts. I am naturally
of an open disposition, and more with you who are a
stranger, and who desire to understand things, and know
their true nature. If that was my way of thinking, I
should speak of all these things with a tone of
astonishment; I should every moment use the terms, that
is divine, that is excellent; this abounds with the
marvellous; and the consequence would be, that I should
either impose upon you, or lessen myself in your
opinion.” There our conversation ended, it was suddenly
interrupted by the dervise’s being called upon about
some business of the convent.
Paris, the 23d of
the moon Rhamazan, 1719.
LETTER CXXXV.
Rica to the Same.
I RETURNED at
the appointed hour; and my new acquaintance conducted me
to the very place where we parted. “Behold here, said
he, the grammarians, the glossary makers, and the
commentators.” “My reverend father, said I, have not all
these a dispensation from having common sense?” “Yes,
answered he, they have, and nobody is ever the wiser:
their works are neither the better nor the worse for it;
and this is a great privilege they are invested with.”
“That is very just, said I, and I know many philosophers
who would do wisely to attach themselves to sciences of
this nature.” “Here, continued he, you may see the
orators who are endowed with the talent of persuading
without ratiocination; and the geometricians who force a
man to assent to their arguments whether he will or no,
and convince him by downright force. Here you see the
metaphysical treatises which turn upon interests so
important, and in which infinity every where occurs; and
the treatises upon natural philosophy, the authors of
which can discover no more of the marvellous in the
œconomy of the vast universe, than in one of the most
simple machines made by human art. Books of physic,
those monuments of the frailty of human nature, and the
power of art; which fill us with terror even in treating
of the slightest disorders, they bring death so near our
view, but which renders us equally secure when they
treat of the virtues of remedies, as if they could
confer immortality upon us. Near them are the books of
anatomy, which do not so properly contain the
description of the parts of the human body, as the
barbarous names by which they are called; which can
never cure the sick man of his disease, nor the
physician of his ignorance. Here are the chymists, who
sometimes inhabit hospitals, and sometimes madhouses,
which are dwellings equally well suited to them. Here
again are the books which treat of the occult science,
or rather of occult ignorance; such are those which
contain something concerning the magic art: these are
execrable in the opinion of many, altogether
contemptible in mine. Such likewise are the books of
judicial astrology.” “How can you say that, father, the
books of judicial astrology, replied I, with vivacity.
These are the very books which are most esteemed in
Persia, they regulate all the actions of our lives, and
determine our will in all our undertakings: the
astrologers may properly be called our directors: they
do more than direct us, they are concerned in the
government of the state.” “If that be the case, said he,
you live under a government much more severe than that
of reason: this must be the most capricious government
imaginable: I greatly pity a family, and much more a
nation, that suffers the planets to have such powerful
influence over it.” “We use astrology, answered I, just
in the same manner as you use algebra. Every nation has
a peculiar science, according to which it regulates its
politics. All our astrologers put together never
committed so many absurdities in our Persia, as a single
algebraist has done here. Can you think that the
fortuitous meeting of the stars is not as sure a rule of
conduct as all the fine reasoning of your builder of
systems? If the votes upon that subject were to be
reckoned up both in France and Persia, astrology would
soon triumph over algebra; you would soon see the
calculators greatly humbled, what terrible inferences
might be drawn against them from hence?” Our dispute was
interrupted, and we were under a necessity of parting.
Paris, the 26th of
the moon Rhamazan, 1719.
LETTER CXXXVI.
Rica to the Same.
AT our next
interview, my learned instructor conducted me into a
separate apartment. “Here, said he, are the books of
modern history. Behold here the authors of church
history, and the lives of the popes; these are books
which I read for edification, but which in me often
produce a quite opposite effect. In that place are those
who have wrote concerning the decline of the formidable
empire of the Romans, which sprung from the ruin of so
many monarchies, and upon the ruins of which so many new
ones were founded; an infinite number of barbarous
nations, as little known as the countries which they
inhabited, appeared all of a sudden, over-run it,
ravaged it, tore it to pieces, and founded all the
kingdoms which you now see in Europe. These people
cannot properly be called barbarians, because they were
free, since being universally subjected to a despotic
power, they lost that delightful liberty which is so
conformable to reason, humanity, and nature. Here you
will see the historians of the German empire, which is
only a shadow of the first empire; but which is, I
think, the only power upon earth which has not been
weakened by faction; the only power, I must repeat it,
which acquires strength from its losses, and which, slow
in availing itself of its success, becomes invincible by
its defeats. Here are the French historians, in which we
first see the regal power form itself, perish twice;
then recover itself again, and languish during a
succession of ages; but collecting strength, and being
increased in every particular, at last arrives at its
final period; like those rivers which in their course
lose their waters, or hide themselves under the earth;
then, shewing themselves again, and swelled by the
rivers which flow into them, rapidly hurry away whatever
opposes itself to their passage. There you see the
Spanish nation pour itself forth from certain mountains:
The Mahometan princes subdued as slowly as they had
rapidly conquered: so many kingdoms united into one vast
monarchy, which became almost the only one; till
overwhelmed by its own greatness, and its false
opulence, it lost its forced reputation, and retained
nothing but the pride with which it was inspired by its
former power. Here are the English historians, in which
we constantly see liberty rekindled by the flames of
discord and sedition, the prince always tottering upon a
throne not to be shaken, a nation impatient, but prudent
even in its sallies of passion, and which, being
possessed of the empire of the sea (a thing unheard of
till then) unites commerce with power. Not far from
thence are the historians of that other queen of the
sea, the republic of Holland, so much respected in
Europe, and so formidable in Asia, where its merchants
see so many kings fall prostrate before them. The
Italian historians represent to us a nation once
mistress of the world, become the slave of all the
others; its princes divided and weak, and having nothing
of sovereignty to boast, besides its vain policy. Here
are the historians of the republics of Switzerland,
which is the emblem of liberty; of Venice, whose only
refuge is in its œconomy; and of Genoa, that has nothing
to boast of but its buildings. Here are those of the
north, and amongst others, of Poland, which makes so bad
a use of its liberty, and the right it is possessed of,
of electing its kings, that one would think its
intention is thereby to console the neighbouring
nations, which have lost both.” Hereupon we parted till
the next day.
Paris, the 2d of
the moon Chalval, 1719.
LETTER CXXXVII.
Rica to the Same.
THE next day he
conducted me into another apartment. “These, said he,
are the poets, whose chief merit consists in putting
good sense in shackles, and in overwhelming reason by a
heap of ornaments, as the women were formerly incumbered
by the parade of dress. You are no stranger to them,
they are common amongst the Orientals, where a hotter
sun seems to warm the imagination of the natives. Here
are the epic poems”—“What,” said I, somewhat surprised,
“is an epic poem?” “To deal plainly with you, answered
he, “I do not know: the critics tell us, that there
never were more than two, and that the others which go
by the same name, are by no means worthy of it: I cannot
juge of this neither. They say besides, that it is
impossible to compose any more; this to me appears still
more surprising. Here are the dramatic poets, who, I
think, hold the first place amongst those of their
profession, and may be justly looked upon as the masters
of our passions. There are two different species of
dramatic poets; the comic poets, who stir our passions
so gently, and the tragic poets, who rouse and agitate
us with so much violence. Here are the lyric poets, whom
I despise as much as I esteem the others, who convert
their art into an harmonious extravagance. Next in order
follow the authors of Idyllium and Eclogues, who please
even courtiers, by exciting in them an idea of a certain
tranquility which they do not possess, which they
present to their view in the condition of shepherds. But
here are authors more dangerous than any you have yet
seen: these are they who point epigrams, little sharp
arrows which make a deep wound that admits of no cure.
Here you behold romances, the authors of which may be in
some measure considered as poets who are equally
extravagant in their wit, and in their representations
of passion; they pass their whole lives in seeking after
nature, and their research is always equally vain; their
heroes are no more in nature than the winged dragons,
and the hippocentaurs.” “I have,” answered I, “seen some
of your romances, and if you had seen any of ours, you
would have been still more disgusted. They are full as
void of nature, and lie under great constraints on
account of our manners: an amorous passion must have
lasted ten years before the lover can see so much as his
mistress’s face; yet the authors are under a necessity
of making their readers pass through all these tedious
preliminaries; now as it is impossible to invent new
incidents for ever, these authors have recourse to an
artifice, which has a worse effect than the
inconvenience they mean to obviate by it; they avail
themselves of prodigies. I am convinced that you cannot
approve of a sorceress making an army rise out of the
earth by the power of her art; that a single hero should
destroy a fleet consisting of an hundred thousand men.
Yet in this taste our romances are wrote: these cold
adventures, so often repeated, appear to us altogether
insipid, and give us the highest disgust.”
Paris, the 6th of
the moon Chalval, 1719.
LETTER CXXXVIII.
Rica to
Ibben at Smyrna.
MINISTERS here
succeed to and destroy each other, just as the seasons
do: during the space of six years I have seen the system
of the finances changed four times. Taxes are now levied
in Turky and Persia, exactly in the same manner as they
were levied by the founders of those empires: this is
far from being the case here. It must indeed be owned
that we do not levy them with so much address as the
inhabitants of the West. It is our opinion, that there
is no more difference between managing the revenues of a
prince, and the fortune of a private person, than
between reckoning an hundred thousand tomans, and
reckoning only an hundred: but this affair is much more
mysterious and refined than we think it. Geniuses of the
first rank must labour night and day, they must without
ceasing, and with the most painful efforts, invent
continually new projects; they must hear the voice of an
infinite number of persons, who meddle with their
business without being desired; they must retire and
live reclusely in a closet impenetrable to great folks,
and aweful to the little; they must always have their
heads full of important secrets, wonderful designs, new
systems; and being quite absorbed in meditation, they
must be deprived of the use of speech, and sometimes
even void of politeness. No sooner were the eyes of the
late king closed, but it was judged proper to establish
a new administration. It was easy to perceive that the
kingdom was in a bad situation, but how to remedy the
inconveniences it laboured under, was the question. The
unlimited authority of former ministers, had not been
found advantageous to the state; and therefore it was
judged proper to divide it among several. For this
purpose, five or six counsels were created, and perhaps
France was never more wisely governed, than by that
ministry: it did not last long, no more than the good of
which it was productive. France, at the late king’s
death, resembled a body sinking under a thousand
disorders: N— took the knife in hand, cut off some of
the useless flesh, and applied a few topical remedies.
But there still remained an internal vice to be cured: a
foreigner who came over, undertook to effect the cure:
after the application of many violent remedies, he
thought that he had restored the state to its former
vigour, whereas it was only become bloated. Those who
were in affluence about six months ago, are now reduced
to the most extreme poverty; and those who were in want
of the necessaries of life, are now wallowing in
opulence. The two extremities never made so near an
approach before. This foreigner has turned the kingdom
with as much ease as a taylor turns a coat; he makes
that which was under appear upwards, and what was
uppermost he turns down. Such unexpected fortunes have
been made, as appeared incredible to those who acquired
them; God does not with greater ease create men out of
nothing. How many footmen are now attended by their
fellow-servants, and may perhaps to-morrow be attended
by their masters? This is sometimes productive of very
odd accidents. Footmen who acquired their fortunes in
the last reign now boast of their birth, they revenge
themselves upon those who have just laid aside their
liveries, of all the contempt which others expressed for
them about six months before: they exclaim aloud the
nobility is ruined; what disorder prevails in the state!
what confusion is there in all ranks! none but mean
persons now make fortunes! Depend upon it these will
take ample revenge upon those who come after them; and
that in thirty years these new people of quality will
make a great noise in the world.
Paris, the 1st of
the moon Zilcade, 1720.
LETTER CXXXIX.
Rica to the Same.
THERE cannot be
a greater example of conjugal affection, and that not in
a private woman, but in a queen, than that which I now
relate. The queen of Sweden being positively resolved
that her husband should be her partner in the
government, to remove all obstacles to this her purpose,
sent a declaration to the states, whereby she renounces
the regency, provided they elect him. Somewhat above
sixty years ago, another queen, named Christina,
abdicated the throne to devote herself entirely to
philosophy. I do not know which of these examples should
excite our admiration most. Though I would by all means
have every body firmly maintain the post and dignity to
which he has been raised by fortune; and though I cannot
approve of the weakness of those, who finding themselves
inferior to their station, basely forsake it by a sort
of desertion; I am notwithstanding struck with the
greatness of soul of these two queens, when I see that
the mind in the one, and the heart in the other, were
more elevated than their fortune. Christina aspired to
know at a time when others think of nothing but the
enjoyment of present pleasures; and the other desires to
enjoy empire only with a view of putting it into the
hands of her august husband.
Paris, the 27th of
the moon Maharran, 1720.
LETTER CXL.
Rica to
Usbek, at * * *.
THE parliament
of Paris has been just banished to a little town called
Pontoise. The council sent orders to it either to
register, or approve, a declaration by which it might be
dishonoured, and the parliament has registered it in a
manner that reflects dishonour upon the council. Some
other parliaments of the kingdom are threatened with the
same treatment. These assemblies are always hated: they
approach kings only to tell them unwelcome truths; and
whilst a crowd of courtiers constantly represent to them
that the people are quite happy by their administration;
they contradict the slattery, and bear to the foot of
the throne the complaints and lamentations of a
distressed nation. Truth, dear Usbek, is a grievous
burden, when we are obliged to carry it into the
presence of princes; they should therefore consider,
that those who undertake the office are constrained to
it, and that they would never have resolved to take a
step so invidious and ungrateful, if they had not been
forced to it by their duty, their respect, and even
their love.
Paris, the 21st day
of the moon of the 1st Gemmadi, 1720.
LETTER CXLI.
Rica to the Same.
AT the end of
the week I will pay you a visit: How agreeably shall I
pass my time with you! I was introduced some days ago to
a certain court lady, who had a fancy to see my foreign
figure. I thought her beautiful, worthy the affection of
our monarch, and of a distinguished rank in the sacred
place where his heart reposes. She proposed me many
questions concerning the manners of the Persians, and
the sort of life led by the women of Persia. It appeared
to me that the seraglio was not to her taste, and that
it gave her great disgust to think that a man should be
shared by ten or twelve women. She could not think of
the happiness of the men without envy, nor of the
wretched condition of the women without the utmost
compassion. As she loves reading in general, but chiefly
poems and romances, she was desirous to hear some
account of ours. The account I gave her doubled her
curiosity: she begged the favour of me to translate a
fragment of one of those I had brought with me. I did
so, and sent her a few days after an oriental tale;
perhaps you will not be displeased to see it in
disguise. “In the time of Cheick ali Can, there was in
Persia a woman named Zulima: she had the sacred Koran
quite by heart; no dervise could understand the
traditions of the holy prophets better than she; the
Arabian doctors never said any thing so mysterious, but
she could easily comprehend it, and to such knowledge
she joined a certain chearfulness of temper, which put
it out of the power of those she conversed with to guess
whether she intended to instruct or please them. One day
whilst she was with her companions in one of the
apartments of the seraglio, one of them asked her what
her sentiments were concerning a life to come; and
whether she believed that ancient tradition of our
doctors, that paradise was made only for the men. It is
the general opinion, said she; they have done all that
they could to degrade and villify our sex. There is even
a nation dispersed all over Persia, called the Jewish,
that maintain by the authority of their sacred books,
that women have no souls. These injurious opinions take
their rise entirely from the pride of men, who would
willingly preserve their superiority over our sex, even
after death, and do not consider, that at the last great
day, all the creatures will appear as nothing before
God, and that one shall have no prerogative over
another, but that which it has acquired by superior
virtue. God will be unbounded in his recompenses: and as
the men who have lived a virtuous life, and made a good
use of their power over us upon earth, will be admitted
into a paradise filled with celestial and ravishing
beauties; beauties so brilliant, that if a mortal could
get a sight of them, he would immediately put an end to
his life, through impatience to enjoy them; in like
manner, virtuous women will enter a delightful abode,
where they will be glutted with the most exquisite
enjoyments of all sorts, with men of a divine nature,
who will be subjected to their command: each of them
will possess a seraglio, in which they will be shut up;
and have eunuchs, much more faithful than ours, to guard
them. I have read, continued she, in an Arabian author,
that a man named Ibrahim, was of a temper most
insupportably jealous. He had twelve women of the
greatest beauty, whom he treated with a brutality
unparalleled: he would not trust even his eunuchs, or
the walls of his seraglio; he generally kept them under
lock and key in their respective apartments, so that
they could neither see nor speak to each other; for even
an innocent friendship roused his jealousy: all his
actions discovered a tincture of his natural brutality:
his mouth never pronounced an obliging word, and his
most trifling gestures never failed to aggravate the
bitterness of their slavery. One day, when he had
assembled them all in an apartment of his seraglio, one
of them, more bold than the rest, reproached him with
his ill-nature. Those who take such pains to make
themselves feared, said she, are, generally speaking,
successful only in making themselves hated. We are so
very unhappy, that we cannot possibly avoid wishing for
a change of condition: others would, in my situation,
wish your death, I only wish for my own; and, as I
cannot hope to be separated from you, except by death,
it will notwithstanding be a great happiness to me to be
separated from you. This discourse, which should have
given him some compunction, made him on the contrary fly
into a furious passion; he drew his poignard, and
plunged it into her breast. ‘My dear companions, said
she, with a dying voice, if heaven has compassion for my
virtue, your sufferings will be revenged.’ Having
uttered these words, she left this unhappy world, and
passed immediately into that blessed abode, where such
women as have lived virtuous lives, enjoy a never-fading
happiness. The first sight that presented itself to her
eyes, was a beautiful meadow, whose verdure was set off
by an enamel of flowers, whose variegated colours vied
with each other in loveliness; a stream, whose waters
were more clear than chrystal, ran there in a variety of
meanders. She then entered into delightful groves, where
nothing was heard but the harmonious songs of tuneful
birds. The finest gardens imaginable then offered
themselves to her view: nature had bestowed upon them
all its lustre with its simplicity. At last she came to
a magnificent palace, which was prepared for her, and
filled with men of a divine nature, destined to be
subservient to her pleasures. Two of them immediately
advanced, in order to undress her: others conducted her
to a bath, and persumed her with the most delicious
essences: they then presented her with clothes, much
more rich than her own: after which they led her into a
spacious hall, where she found a fire made of
odoriferous wood, and a table covered with viands of the
most exquisite flavour. All things seemed to concur to
fill her senses with rapture; she heard on one side
musick, so much the more divine, as it was more tender;
on the other she saw dances performed by those divine
men, whose sole occupation was to please her, and yet
such a variety of pleasure was intended only to conduct
her, by insensible degrees, to pleasures infinitely
greater. They then conducted her to her apartment;
having again undressed her, they then put her into a bed
extremely rich, where two divine men immediately
received her in their arms. She was then completely
happy, her ecstacy surpassed even her desires. ‘I am
quite transported, said she to them, I should think
myself dying if I was not sure of my immortality. It is
too much, leave me; I sink through the excess of
pleasure. Yes, you again restore a calm to my senses; I
am beginning to revive and come to myself. Why have they
taken away the slambeaux? Why am I not permitted still
to contemplate your divine charms? Why am I not allowed
to see?—But why do I talk of seeing? You make me once
more enter into my former transports. Gods, how
delightful this darkness is! What, shall I be immortal,
and immortal in your company! I shall—but no—I beg a
moment’s rest, for I see you are but little disposed to
ask it.’ After reiterated commands, she was at last
obeyed, but it was not till she appeared to desire it in
good earnest. She then gave way to soft repose, and
slumbered in their arms. Two moments of sleep restored
her wasted strength: twice they embraced her, and thus
the flame of love was rekindled. She opened her eyes,
and said, ‘I am quite uneasy to find myself neglected
thus, I fear you have ceased to love me.’ This was a
doubt in which she was unwilling to remain long: and
indeed she soon received convincing proofs of her
mistake. ‘I am conscious of my error, exclaimed she,
excuse me, I now see I may depend upon you. You do not
utter a single word, but your actions prove your love
more strongly than it is in the power of words to do.
Yes, yes, I own it, no love could ever equal yours. But
how you vie with each other in endeavouring to convince
me! ah, if you vie with each other, if you join ambition
to the pleasure of defeating me, I am lost; you will
both be conquerors, and I the only vanquished party; but
the victory shall cost you dear, that you may depend
upon.’ Their pleasures were not discontinued till day
appeared; her faithful and amiable domestics entered her
apartment, and caused the two young men to rise, they
were thereupon re-conducted to the places wherein they
were kept for her pleasures. She then arose, and made
her appearance at that court by which she was idolized,
in the charms of a simple dishabille, and then richly
attired in the most sumptuous ornaments. The past night
had added new lustre to her beauties; it had enlivened
her complexion, and given a stronger expression to her
graces. The whole day was divided between dances,
concerts, festivals, sports, and other amusements of
that kind; and it was observed, that Anais often stept
aside, and flew to the embraces of her two lovers; after
having a short interview with them, she returned to the
company she had quitted, always with a countenance more
lively than before. But about evening the company lost
sight of her entirely: she went and shut herself up in
the seraglio, where she was desirous, as she said, of
cultivating her acquaintance with these immortal
captives, who were to live with her for ever. She
therefore visited the most retired and the most
delightful apartments of these places, where she
reckoned fifty slaves of a most extraordinary beauty:
she wandered all day from apartment to apartment,
receiving every where a different homage, but one that
was always of the same nature. It was thus the immortal
Anais passed her days, sometimes in all the dissipation
and gaiety of pleasure, and sometimes in solitary
pleasures, admired by a brillant assembly, or adored by
an ardent lover: she often quitted an inchanted palace,
to repair to a rural grotto: flowers seemed to spring
under her feet, and pleasures offered themselves to her
in crowds. She had been above eight days in this happy
place, in the hurry of a constant round of pleasure, and
without having ever made a single reflection; she had
enjoyed her felicity without knowing it, and without
having one of those moments of tranquility in which the
soul settles with itself, if I may be allowed the
expression, and attends to its own report in the silence
of the passions. Happy souls have pleasures so lively,
that they can seldom enjoy that freedom of mind:
wherefore being invincibly attached to present objects,
they lose all memory of things past, and have no longer
the least concern about what they have loved, or known,
in the other world. But Anais, whose mind was of a truly
philosophical turn, had passed almost her whole life in
meditation: she had carried her reflections a great deal
further than could be expected from a woman left to
herself. The close retirement in which her husband had
left her, had deprived her of every other advantage. It
was that strength of mind which had made her despise the
fear that filled the souls of her companions with
consternation, as well as death, by which her sufferings
were to be terminated, and her felicity to commence. She
therefore by degrees quitted the intoxication of
pleasure, and retired to an apartment in her palace. She
gave herself up to pleasing reflections upon her past
condition, and her present happiness; she could not help
compassionating the misery of her companions. We are
always affected with ills which we have partaken of.
Anais did not stop within the limits of simple
compassion: such was her tenderness for these
unfortunate creatures, that she found herself inclined
to assist them in their distress. She ordered one of the
young men that was with her, to assume the form of her
husband, to enter his seraglio, to make himself master
of it, and to turn the former possessor out of doors,
and to remain there in his place, till such time as she
should think proper to recal him. Her orders were
quickly put in execution; he cut the air with rapid
wings, and quickly arrived at the door of Ibrahim’s
seraglio: Ibrahim happened not to be there. The young
man knocked, every door flew open to him, the eunuchs
fell at his feet. He flew to the apartments where the
women of Ibrahim were shut up; he had as he passed
stolen the keys from this monster of jealousy; to him he
found means to render himself invisible. He entered, and
at first surprised them by his mild and affable air, but
soon after surprised them much more by his ardour, and
by his reiterated warm embraces. They were all equally
astonished at this event, and they would have taken it
for a dream, had there been less reality in it. Whilst
this extraordinary scene was played in the seraglio,
Ibrahim knocked at it, told his name, and made a
terrible outcry and disturbance. After having surmounted
a great many difficulties, he entered, and threw the
eunuchs into a most terrible fright. He walked on with
great rapidity, but he started back with great
astonishment, when he beheld the counterfeit Ibrahim,
his perfect image, taking all the liberties of master of
the seraglio. He calls out for help; he calls upon the
eunuchs to assist him in killing the impostor; but he
was not obeyed. He has now but one refuge left, and that
a weak one; he refers it to the judgment of his wives.
In the course of one hour the counterfeit Ibrahim had
corrupted all the judges. The other was ignominiously
dragged out of the seraglio, and would inevitably have
suffered death, if his rival had not given positive
orders that his life should be spared. In a word, the
new Ibrahim remaining master of the field of battle,
gave every day new proofs that he was worthy of such a
preference, and signalized himself by feats unheard of
before in the seraglio. You are not like Ibrahim, said
the women. Say rather, answered the triumphant Ibrahim,
that that impostor is not like me; what must be done to
deserve your favours, if what I do is insufficient? “Ah,
we shall take care how we doubt,” answered the women,
“if you are not the true Ibrahim, it is enough for us
that you have so well deserved to be so; you show
yourself more Ibrahim in one day than he did in ten
years.” “You promise then,” returned he, “to declare in
my favour, and against that impostor.” “Doubt not of
that,” answered they all with one unanimous voice; “we
swear to be eternally faithful to you; we have been too
long imposed upon; the villain did not suspect our
virtue, all his suspicions were occasioned by his own
impotence: we now see plainly that men are not made
alike, it is you doubtless they resemble: if you but
knew how much you make us hate him!” “Ah,” replied the
counterseit Ibrahim, “I will often give you fresh
reasons to hate him, you do not yet know how great an
injury he has done you.” “We judge of his injustice by
the greatness of your revenge,” answered they. “You are
in the right,” answered the divine man; “I have
proportioned the expiation to the crime; I am glad you
like my manner of punishing.” “But,” said the women, “if
that impostor should return, what shall we do?” “I
believe it would be a hard matter for him to deceive
you,” answered he; “in the station which I hold with
you, no man can support himself by artifice: besides, I
will send him so far off, that you will never hear more
of him. I then will take upon myself the care of your
happiness. I will not be jealous; I know how to secure
your affections, without laying you under any restraint;
I have not so bad an opinion of my merit, to think that
you will not be faithful to me: if your virtue is not
secure with me, with whom can it be secure?” The
conversation lasted a long time between him and the
women, who, more struck with the difference of the two
Ibrahims, than with their resemblance, were not in the
least solicitous to have so many mysteries cleared up.
At last the husband, quite desperate, came again to
disturb their repose: he found his whole family in joy,
and his women more unwilling to believe him than ever.
It was become now no place for a jealous man; he went
away in a rage; the very next moment the counterfeit
Ibraham followed him, seized him, hurried him through
the air, and left him at the distance of two thousand
leagues from thence. Gods, how disconsolate were the
women in the absence of their dear Ibrahim! Their
eunuchs had already resumed their natural severity, the
whole family was in tears, they thought sometimes that
all that had happened to them was but a dream; they
looked often upon each other, and recalled to their
memories the most minute circumstances of these strange
adventures. At length the divine Ibrahim returned more
amiable than ever; it appeared to the women that he had
not been in the least fatigued by his journey. The new
master observed a conduct so opposite to that of the old
one, that all the neighbours were surprised at it. He
dismissed all the eunuchs, made his house accessible to
every body: He would not even suffer the women to use
veils. It was something extraordinary to see them at
feasts amongst the men, and as free as they. Ibrahim
thought, and with reason, that such citizens as he, were
not bound to observe the customs of the country. Yet he
spared no expence; he with the utmost profusion
squandered the wealth of the jealous man, who returning
three years after from the remote countries to which he
had been carried, found nothing at home but his women,
and thirty-six children.
Paris, the 26th of
the moon Gemmadi, 1720.
LETTER CXLII.
Rica to
Usbek, at * * *.
I SEND you
herewith a letter, which I received from a man of
learning; you will think it somewhat extraordinary.
“Sir,
“About six
months ago I succeeded to the fortune of a very rich
uncle, who left me five or six hundred thousand livres,
and a well furnished house. It is a pleasure to be
possessed of wealth, when one knows how to make a good
use of it. I have no ambition nor taste for pleasures; I
am almost always shut up in a closet, where I lead the
life of a studious man. It is in such a place as this,
that a virtuoso, who loves venerable antiquity, is to be
found. When my uncle expired, I would gladly have had
him interred with the ceremonies observed by the Greeks
and Romans, but I had neither antique mourning, urns, or
lamps. But since that time, I have provided myself well
with those precious rarities. I not long age sold my
plate, to purchase an earthen lamp, that had been used
by a stoic philosopher. I have disposed of all the
pier-glasses with which my uncle had covered his
apartments, to buy a little cracked looingglass, that
formerly belonged to Virgil: I am highly delighted to
see it reflect my face, instead of that of the swan of
Mantua. This is not all; I have given an hundred louis
d’ors for five or six pieces of copper coin, which were
current a thousand years ago. I do not think I have now
in my house, a single moveable, which was not made
before the decline of the Roman empire. I have a little
closet filled with manuscripts, as precious as dear:
though by reading them I destroy my eye-sight, I had
much rather use them than printed books, which are not
so correct, and which are moreover in the hands of every
body. Though I scarce ever stir out of my house, I am
extremely solicitous to know all the ancient roads which
were made in the time of the old Romans. There is one
not far from my house, which was made by the orders of a
proconsul of Gaul, twelve hundred years ago. When I go
to my country-house, I always take care to pass it,
though it is very inconvenient, and adds almost a league
to my journey: but what provokes me, is, that in several
places, they have fixed wooden posts, to show the
distances of the neighbouring towns. I am quite in
despair, to see these miserable erections, in the room
of those military columns which were there before. I
doubt not but I shall cause them to be replaced by my
heirs, and shall be able to make a will of such a
nature, as will induce them to do it. If you have got
ever a Persian manuscript by you, Sir, I would be
obliged to you for it; I will pay you your own price for
it, and I will give you into the bargain some works of
my own composing, which will convince you that I am not
an useless member of the republic of letters. Amongst
others, you will see a differtation, in which I prove,
that the crown used in triumphs, was made of oak leaves,
and not of laurel: you will be in raptures with another,
in which I prove by learned conjectures, taken from the
greatest Greek authors, that Cambyses was wounded in the
left leg, and not in the right: another, in which I
prove that a short forehead was a beauty highly esteemed
by the Romans. I will send you moreover a volume in
quarto, which contains an explanation of a verse of the
sixth book of Virgil. It will be a few days before I can
send you these; at present all I can do is to send you
this fragment of an ancient Grecian mythologist, which
has not hitherto appeared in print, and which I found in
the dust of a library. I must take my leave of you, on
account of an important affair that I have upon my
hands; the business is to restore a beautiful passage of
Pliny the naturalist, which the copyists of the fifth
century have strangely disfigured.
I am, &c.
Fragment of an
ancient Mythologist.
‘IN an island
near the Orcades, a child was born who had Ęolus for his
sire, and for his mother a nymph of Caledonia. It is
said of him, that he, without assistance, learned to
reckon upon his fingers; and that even at four years of
age, he distinguished metals so well, that his mother
once offering him a tin ring instead of a gold one, he
perceived the deceit, and threw it upon the ground. As
soon as he was grown up, his father taught him to shut
up the wind in buckets, which he afterwards sold to the
travellers who passed that way: but as commerce was not
much esteemed in his country, he quitted it, and began
to roam the world, in company with the blind god of
chance. In the course of his travels, he had learned,
that gold glitters every where in Betica, he repaired
thither with the utmost expedition. He was very ill
received by Saturn, who reigned there at that time; but
that god having left the earth, he took it into his head
to go about the streets every where, crying continually
with a hoarse voice, People of Betica, you think
yourselves rich, because you are possessed of gold and
silver: your error raises my contempt. Be ruled by me,
quit the country of base metals; enter the empire of
imagination, and I promise you riches, which will fill
even you with astonishment. He immediately opened
several of the buckets which he had brought with him,
and he distributed his commodity to whoever was willing
to take it. The next day he entered the same streets,
and cried out, People of Betica, do you desire to be
rich? Fancy to yourselves that I am extremely rich, and
that you are so also: take it for granted every morning,
that your wealth has been doubled during the night: then
rise, and if you have creditors, go and pay them with
the imaginary treasure, then bid them imagine in their
turn. He appeared again in a few days after, and he
spoke thus: People of Betica, I see very well that your
imagination is not as lively as it was yesterday; let me
regulate your imagination by mine: I will every day
place before your eyes a scroll, which will be to you
the source of great riches: it will contain but four
words; but these words will be extremely significant;
for they will determine the portions of your wives, the
fortunes of your children, and the number of your
servants. And as for you, said he, to such of the croud
as were nearest to him; as to you, my dear children (I
may call you by that name, for from me have you received
a second birth) my scroll shall decide the grandeur of
your magnificent equipages, the sumptuousness of your
feasts, and the number and pay of your mistresses. A few
days after he came into the public streets, quite out of
breath, and in a violent passion cried out: People of
Betica, I advised you to imagine, and I see that you do
not follow my advice: well then, now I command you to do
so. Thereupon he quitted them abruptly; but reflection
made him soon come back. I hear, said he, that some of
you are so detestable as to keep your gold and silver.
For the silver it is no great matter, but gold, gold—ah!
that makes me quite mad. I swear by my sacred buckets,
that if they do not bring it to me, I will punish them
severely. He then added, with the most persuasive air
imaginable, do you think I ask you for these wretched
metals in order to keep them? A proof of my candour is,
that when you brought them to me a few days ago, I
immediately returned you one half. The next day they saw
him at a distance, they perceived that he endeavoured to
insinuate himself into their favour, by smooth and
complaisant discourse: People of Betica, I am informed
that part of your treasure is in foreign countries; I
intreat you to send for them, you will greatly oblige
me, and I shall eternally acknowledge the favour. The
son of Ęolus happened then to speak to people, who were
by no means in a merry mood; they could not however help
laughing, which made him sneak off in great confusion.
He was not however quite discouraged, he returned again,
and ventured to make another petition. I know that you
have precious stones; dispose of them in the name of
Jupiter; nothing can possibly impoverish you more than
keeping such baubles. Dispose of them by all means: if
you cannot do it yourselves, I will procure you
excellent agents. How you will wallow in riches, if you
but follow my advice! I do assure you you shall have the
richest treasures of my buckets. At last he mounted a
scaffold, and with a more resolute voice spoke thus:
People of Betica, I have compared the happy state in
which you are at present, with that in which I found you
upon my arrival in this country; you are now the most
opulent people upon earth; but that I may make your good
fortune compleat, permit me to ease you of one half of
your wealth. Having uttered these words, the son of
Ęolus soared up into the air, and fled away upon rapid
wings, leaving his auditors in a consternation not to be
expressed, which occasioned his coming again the next
day, when he delivered himself in these terms: I
perceived yesterday, that my conversation displeased you
highly. Well then, suppose all I said, unsaid. It is
true, one half is too much. Let us have recourse to
other expedients to attain the proposed end. Let us
deposit all our riches in the same place; it will be
easily done, for they will not take up much room. At
that instant three parts of their wealth out of four
vanished away.’
Paris, the 9th of
the moon Chahban, 1720.
N. B. Mr.
Law is alluded to in this satire, who was a goldsmith in
Edinburgh, and many years a professed gamester; by
Saturn is meant Lewis XIV.
LETTER CXLIII.
Rica to
Nathaniel Levi, a Jewish Physician at
Leghorn.
YOU ask my
opinion concerning the virtue of charms, and the power
of talismans; why do you apply to me upon this occasion?
you are a Jew, and I am a Mahometan, consequently we
must both be extremely superstitious. I always carry
with me above a thousand passages of the holy Koran: I
tie to my arms a paper, upon which are written the names
of above two hundred dervises: those of Hali, of Fatme,
and all the personages renowned for their sanctity, are
concealed in my clothes in above twenty places. However,
I cannot entirely disapprove of the opinion of those who
will not admit of this virtue annexed to certain words.
It is much more difficult for us to answer their
arguments, than for them to oppose our experience. I
carry all these sacred scrolls about me, merely through
habit, and in order to conform to a received custom: I
am of opinion, that if they have not a greater virtue
than rings and other ornaments of dress, they cannot
possibly be inferior to them in this respect. But you
put entire confidence in a few mysterious letters; and,
without that defence, you would be under continual
apprehensions. Men are indeed unhappy! they constantly
float between fallacious hopes and absurd fears: and,
instead of adhering to the dictates of reason, they
either form to themselves monsters that intimidate them,
or phantoms that seduce and mislead them. What effect do
you think the placing of a few letters can produce? What
evil can result from their being put into disorder? What
influence have they over the winds, to calm tempests;
over gun powder to resist its force; or over what
physicians call peccant humour, or the morbific cause of
diseases, to cure them? What is most extraordinary, is,
that those who puzzle their brains to account for
certain events, by occult virtues, are obliged to take
equal pains to avoid seeing the true cause. You will
tell me, that certain enchantments have caused a battle
to be won: but for my part, I cannot help telling you,
that you must be blind not to see in the situation of
the field, the number, or courage, of the soldiers, or
the experience of the generals, causes capable of
producing this effect, whose real cause you wilfully
shut your eyes to. I will grant you for a moment, that
there may be enchantments; grant me for a moment that
there are none, for that is possible. It will not follow
from your concession, that two armies may not engage:
will you then maintain, that in that case neither of the
two can be victorious? Do you think their fate will
continue doubtful, till an invisible power comes to
decide it? That all their blows will be ineffectual, all
their conduct vain, and all their courage fruitless? Do
you think that death, rendered present in a thousand
different ways, cannot produce those panics, which you
find it so difficult to account for? Do you think, that
there may not be one coward in an army of two hundred
thousand men? Do you think that the terror which may
seize this one, may not excite terror in another? That
the second, who quits a third, will not make him quit a
fourth? Even that would be sufficient to throw a whole
army into despair; and the more numerous the army, the
more quickly it spreads. All the world knows, and all
the world is sensible, that men, like all other
creatures, who are directed by nature to preserve their
being, are passionately fond of life; this is a truth
generally known; how then can it be asked, how they can
be afraid of losing it upon a particular occasion?
Though the sacred books of all nations abound with
accounts of such panics, or supernatural terrors, I
think there cannot be a more ridiculous notion; for
before we should admit that an effect which may be
produced by an hundred thousand natural causes, is
supernatural, one should before have examined, whether
none of these causes has operated; which is impossible.
I shall say no more to you upon this subject, Nathaniel;
in my opinion it does not deserve to be treated in so
serious a manner.
Paris, the 20th of
the moon Chahban, 1720.
P. S.
As I was just concluding, I heard cried about the
streets, a letter from a country physician, to a
physician at Paris; (for here the greatest trifles are
printed, published, and bought). I thought I should do
well to send it to you, because it has some relation to
the subject we have been upon
.
A Letter from a
Country Physician, to a Physician at
Paris.
‘THERE was
formerly a sick person in our town, who never once slept
for thirty-five days together. His physician prescribed
him opium; but he would never consent to take it; and
whilst he held the cup, he was as little inclined to
take it as ever. At last he said to his physician, Sir,
I beg you will give me quarter till to-morrow: I know a
man who does not practise physic, and yet he has an
infinity of remedies against want of sleep. Give me
leave to send for him; and if I do not sleep to-night, I
will send for you again to-morrow. The physician being
gone, the sick man ordered his curtains to be drawn, and
said to his footman, Go to Mr. Anis, and tell him, I
should be glad to see him. Mr. Anis came. My dear Mr.
Anis, I am in a dying condition, I cannot sleep; have
you not in your shop the C. of G. or some book of
devotion, composed by some reverend father, which still
lies upon your hands? for the remedies that have been
the longest kept are generally the best. Sir, answered
the bookseller, I have in my shop the Holy Court of
father Caussin, at your service; I will send it to you
directly, and I hope you will find yourself the better
for it. If you have a mind for the works of the reverend
father Rodriguez, a Portuguese Jesuit, they are very
much at your service. But take my advice, and stick to
father Caussin. I hope that, with the assistance of God,
one period of father Caussin will do you more good than
a whole leaf of the C. of G. Having spoke thus, Mr. Anis
went out, in order to search his shop for the remedy. He
soon returned with the Holy Court, after having caused
the dust to be rubbed off; the patient’s son, a
school-boy, began to read: he was the first to feel the
effects of it; at the second page he could scarce
pronounce with an articulate voice, and all present
began to feel themselves drowsy: a few moments after
they all began to snore, except the sick man, who, after
having long continued to listen to it awake, at last was
overpowered by sleep himself. Early in the morning the
physician arrived. Well, said he, has my opium been
taken? To this question he received no answer; but the
wife, the daughter, and the child, in transports of joy,
showed him father Caussin’s work. He asked what it was;
they answered, O bless father Caussin, his book well
deserves to be bound. Who would have said it? who would
have thought it? It is a perfect miracle. See here, Sir,
see father Caussin’s treatise; it was this that made my
father sleep. Hereupon they informed him of all that had
happened
. The physician was a subtle man, greatly attached to
the mysteries of the Cabala, and who had much faith in
the power of words and spirits: this struck him so,
that, upon mature deliberation, he resolved to change
his method of practice. This is a very extraordinary
effect, said he, this experiment is worth carrying
further. Why may not a spirit have power to communicate
to its works the qualities which it is itself possessed
of? Do not we see this happen every day? At least the
experiment is very well worth trying. I am tired of
apothecaries; their syrups, their juleps, and all their
galenical drugs, destroy the sick, and quite ruin their
health. Let us change the method of practice; let us try
the virtue of spirits. With this view, he drew up a new
system of pharmacy, as you will see by the account which
I shall give of the new remedies which he made use of.’
Purgative Ptisan.
‘Take three
leaves of Aristotle’s logic in Greek, two leaves of one
of the most crabbed theological treatises; as for
instance, that of the subtile Scotus; four of
Paracelsus, one of Avicenna; six of Avenoes; three of
Porphyry; as many of Plotinus, as many of Jamblicus. Mix
them all together, and let them stand for
four-and-twenty hours; then take four doses of them at a
time.’
A more violent
Purgative.
‘Take ten A * *
* of C * * *, concerning the B and the C of the J * *;
cause them to be distilled in balnea marina; put a drop
of the sharp humour which it produces, in a glass of
water to deaden it; then drink off the whole with
confidence.’
A Vomit.
‘Take six
harangues; the first dozen of funeral orations that
comes to hand; with this one restriction however, that
you do not make use of those of M. de N.; a collection
of new operas, fifty romances, and thirty sets of new
memoirs; put all these ingredients into a large glass
bottle, with a big belly and a little neck; leave it to
settle during two days; then cause it to be distilled by
a fire of ashes; and if all this should prove
ineffectual,
Another more
powerful Vomit.
‘Take a leaf of
marble paper, which has served as a cover to a
collection of the pieces of J. F. let it be infused
during the space of three minutes; cause a spoonful of
that infusion to be made hot, and drink it up.’
A very simple
Remedy for an Asthma.
‘Read all the
works of the reverend father Maimbourg, heretofore
Jesuit; but take care not to stop till the conclusion of
each period; and you will find a freedom of breathing
return by degrees, without being under any necessity of
repeating the remedy.’
A Preservative from
the Itch, Scabs, and other cutaneous Disorders.
‘Take three
categories of Aristotle, thre prędicables of three
different degrees in the metaphysical scale, one
distinction, six verses of Chapelain, one phrase
extracted from the letters of the Abbe de St. Cyran:
write the whole upon a bit of paper, fold it up, tie it
to a ribband, and carry it about your neck.’
Miraculum Chymicum
de violentā fermentatione, cum fumo, igne et flammā.
‘Misce
Quesnellianam infusionem, cum infusione Lallemanianā;
fiat fermentatio cum magnā vi, impetu, et tonitru,
acidis pugnantibus, et invicem penetrantibus alcalinos
sales fiet evaporatio ardentium spirituum. Pone liquorem
fermentatum in alembica; nihil indč extrahes, et nihil
invenies, nisi caput mortuum.’
Lenitivum.
‘Recipe Molinę
anodini chartas duas; Escobaris relaxativi paginas sex;
Vasquii emolientis folium unum: infunde in aquę
communis, lib. iiij. Ad consumptionem dimidię
partis colentur et exprimantur; et, in expressione,
dissolve Bauni detersivi et Tamburini abluentis, folia
iii.’
Fiat clister.
In chlorosin,
quam vulgus pallidos-colores, aut febrim-amatoriam,
appellat.
‘Recipe Aretini
figuras iiij. R. Thomę Sanchii de matrimonio folio ij.
infundantur in ęque communis libras quinque.’
Fiat ptisana
aperiens.
‘These drugs our
physician applied with extraordinary success; he would
not, as he said, for fear of destroying his patients,
employ remedies very hard to come at: as for instance, a
dedication which had never made any body yawn; too short
a preface; a bishop’s order, wrote by himself, and the
work of a janesenist, either despised by a janesenist,
or much admired by a jesuit. It was his opinion, that
these remedies were calculated for nothing, but to
promote quackery, which he professed to hold in the
utmost abhorrence.’
LETTER CXLIV.
Usbek to
Rica.
YESTERDAY at a
country-seat, where I happened to visit, I met with two
learned men, who have a great name in this part of the
world. I thought their characters somewhat singular. The
conversation of the first, well weighed, might be
reduced to this; what I have said is true, because it is
I that have said it. The conversation of the second,
seemed to be founded upon another maxim; what I have not
said, is not true, because I have not said it. The first
I was tolerably well pleased with, for it is nothing to
me if another person shows himself to be quite positive
and obstinate, but the impertinence of another is not so
easily borne with. The first maintains his opinions,
they may be considered as his property: the second
attacks those of others, that is to say, he invades the
property of all mankind. Dear Usbek, how fortunate are
those who have more vanity than is absolutely necessary
for self-preservation! These people aspire to be
admired, by means which must make them give offence.
They aim at superiority, and they can scarce ever attain
to an equality with others. Oh you modest men approach,
that I may embrace you! From you spring all the charms
of society. You think yourselves destitute of all sorts
of merit; but I cannot help saying, that every merit is
yours. You think you humble nobody, though you humble
all the world. And when I, in idea, compare you to those
assuming persons whom I meet with every where, I
immediately pull them from their tribunal, and make them
fall prostrate at your feet.
Paris, the 22d of
the moon Chahban, 1719.
LETTER CXLV.
Usbek to
* * *.
A MAN of parts
is generally untractable in society. He chooses but few
companions; he is disgusted with that numerous body of
people, whom he is pleased to call bad company: this
disgust he cannot thoroughly conceal, which brings upon
him the hatred of numbers. Being sure to please,
whenever he thinks proper to exert himself, he
frequently neglects to do so. He has a turn to
criticising, because he sees many things that escape
another, and is more sensibly affected by them. He
generally ruins his fortune, because the fertility of
his genius furnishes him with a variety of means so to
do. His enterprises miscarry, because he risks a great
deal. His penetration, which generally causes him to see
too far, makes him often give attention to objects that
are extremely remote. Add to this, that at the formation
of a project, he is less occupied by the difficulties
that grow out of the business, than with the remedies to
them, which are of his own inventing. He neglects minute
particulars, tho’ upon them the success of most great
affairs depends. On the other hand, the man of more
confined abilities endeavours to avail himself in every
thing: he is thoroughly sensible, that he must not
neglect even trifles. The man of moderate abilities
oftener meets with general esteem. Every body takes
pleasure in raising the one, whilst all are equally
delighted to depress the other. Whilst envy falls foul
upon one, and excuses him nothing, all the defects of
the other are overlooked; the vanity of others declares
in his favour. But if a man of genius lies under so many
disadvantages, what must we think of the wretched
condition of the learned? I can never think of it,
without recollecting the following letter, wrote by one
of them to his friend. I send it to you herewith:
‘Sir,
‘I am one of
those who pass whole nights in contemplating through
telescopes of thirty feet long, those vast bodies that
roll over our heads; and when I am disposed to unbend my
mind, I take up a microscope, and examine a maggot or a
mite; I am not rich, and I have but one room: I dare not
even make a fire in it, lest the warmth should make the
mercury rise in my thermometer, which I keep there. Last
winter the cold almost killed me: and though my
thermometor was at the lowest, and though my hands were
almost frozen, I still went on my own way. Thus I have
the pleasure of knowing with the greatest exactness, all
the most inconsiderable changes of the weather for last
year. I am very reserved, and scarce know any body that
I see. But there is a person at Stockholm, another at
Leipsick, and another at London, whom I neither ever
saw, nor ever expect to see, with whom I keep up a
constant correspondence; I write to them every post. But
though I have no connection with any body in the street
where I live, I have got so bad a character all over the
neighbourhood, that I believe I must soon change my
lodging. About five years ago, I was treated very
roughly by a woman in the neighbourhood, for having
dissected a dog, which, she said, belonged to her. The
wife of a butcher, who happened to be present, took her
part; and whilst one poured out a torrent of abuse
against me, the other pelted me with stones as well as
Dr.—, who was with me, who received a terrible blow upon
the os frontal and os occipital, by which the seat of
reason is very much injured. Ever since that time, if a
dog happens to be missing in the street, it is
immediately taken for granted that it has passed through
my hands. A worthy citizen’s wife, that had lost a
lap-dog, which, as she said herself, was more dear to
her than her own children, came the other day, and
fainted away in my room, and not having found her dog,
summoned me before a magistrate. I believe I shall be
for ever persecuted by the malice of these women, who,
with their shrill voices, stun me every day, by making
funeral orations upon all the automates who have died
these ten years.
‘Yours, &c.’
All men of
learning were accused of being magicians, some ages
past. I am not at all surprized at it. Every one of them
said within himself, I have acquired as much knowledge
as can be attained by the power of natural abilities,
and yet another philosopher has the advantage of me; he
must certainly deal with the devil. As accusations of
this nature are out of date in the present age, other
means have been made use of, and a man of learning can
never escape being reproached with irreligion or heresy.
It avails him little to be deemed innocent by the
people; the wound once made, will never perfectly close.
It remains a sore place ever after. An adversary may
come thirty years after, and address him in these modest
terms: “God forbid that I should imagine that the
accusation against you is just; but you have lain under
the sad necessity of vindicating your character.” Thus
is his very justification turned against him. If he
writes a history, and discovers an elevation of mind, or
integrity of heart, he is liable to a thousand
persecutions. There will not be wanting persons to
irritate the magistrate against him, on account of a
fact which has passed a thousand years ago; and if his
pen is not venal, they would have it restrained. Their
condition is, however, more happy than that of those men
who violate their faith for an inconsiderable pension,
who by all their numerous impostures hardly gain a
single farthing; who subvert the constitution of an
empire, diminish the prerogatives of one power, increase
those of another; give to princes, take from their
subjects, revive antiquated duties, encourage the
passions which are in vogue in their age, and such vices
as receive a sanction from the throne; imposing upon
posterity in the more scandalous manner, as it is not
provided with means to detect their impostures. But it
is not enough that an author has all these insults to
suffer, it is not enough that he has lived in constant
anxiety for the success of his work. At length the work
that cost him so much pains and trouble comes out; it
involves him in a thousand quarrels, and how is it
possible to avoid them? The author has an opinion, he
maintains it in his writings, without knowing that
another man of learning, who lives two hundred leagues
distan from him, had asserted the reverse. Yet this
gives rise to a paper war. It would indeed be some
consolation to him, if he had any prospect of becoming
famous. But he has not even this alleviation of his
distress. He is at most esteemed by those who have
applied themselves to the same studies with himself. A
philosopher holds nothing more in contempt, than a man
whose head is loaded with facts, whilst he, in his turn,
is considered as a visionary by the man that has a good
memory. With regard to those who take pride in their
ignorance, they would willingly have all mankind buried
in that oblivion to which they are themselves consigned.
When a man is destitute of any particular talent, he
indemnifies himself, by expressing his contempt for it;
he removes that obstacle which stood between merit and
him, and by that means raises himself to a level with
those whom he before feared as rivals. Thus is an author
obliged to abstain from pleasures, and endanger his
health, to acquire a doubtful and precarious reputation.
Paris, the 26th of
the moon Chahban, 1720.
LETTER CXLVI.
Usbek to
Rhedi, at
Venice.
IT is a maxim of
long standing, that sincerity is the soul of a great
ministry. An individual may avail himself of the
obscurity in which he is placed; his character is
lessened only in the opinion of some particular persons;
he keeps himself masked before others; but a minister,
who acts contrary to the rules of probity, has witnesses
of his bad conduct, and judges as many in number as the
people he governs. Shall I hazard a bold assertion? The
greatest mischief done by a minister without principle,
does not arise from his serving his prince unfaithfully,
or from his ruining the people, it arises from the bad
example he sets. You are not ignorant that I have a long
time travelled up and down the Indies. I have there
known a nation, by nature generous, debauched in an
instant, as it were, by the bad example of a minister; I
have seen a whole people, amongst whom generosity,
probity, candour, and uprightness, had long been
considered as qualities natural to them, become all on a
sudden the most despicable people upon the face of the
earth; I have seen the contagion spread, and not spare
even the most sacred members of the community; I have
known men famous for their virtue, guilty of the most
unworthy actions; I have known them violate the first
principles of justice, alledging in excuse, the
frivolous pretext that they had been violated with
respect to themselves. They justified the basest actions
by odious laws, and made necessity a plea for their base
and perfidious conduct. I have seen faith banished from
contracts, the most solemn compacts rendered void, and
all the laws of families subverted. I have seen
avaritious debtors puffed up with pride, in the midst of
poverty, unworthy instruments of the severity of the
laws, and the public distress, pretend payment, without
ever having made it, and plunge a dagger in the breast
of their benefactors. I have seen others, still more
unworthy, buy for a trifle, or rather, as it were, pick
up oak leaves from the ground, in order to supply the
place of the substance of widows and orphans. I have
known an insatiable thirst for riches spring up on a
sudden in the hearts of all men. I have seen a
detestable confederacy formed by several persons to
enrich themselves, not by an honest industry, but by the
ruin of the prince, the state, and their fellow
citizens. I have known a worthy citizen, in these times
of distress, never go to bed without saying to himself,
I have ruined a family to day, I will ruin another
to-morrow. I am going, says another, with a man in
black, who carries an inkhorn in his hand, to ruin all
those to whom I have had an-obligation. Another said, I
find I am beginning to thrive; true it is, when I went
about three days ago to pay off some money, I left a
whole family in tears, that I squandered the portions of
two girls of condition, that I deprived a young lad of
the means of acquiring education; his father will die of
grief, his mother pines away with sorrow: but I have
done nothing but what is allowed by the law. What crime
can be greater, than that which a minister commits, when
he corrupts the manners of a whole nation, debases the
most noble souls, stains the lustre of dignities, makes
virtue itself obscure, and confounds the noblest birth,
in the general contempt? What will posterity say, when
it finds itself under a necessity of blushing for the
shame of its ancestors? What will the people of the next
age say, when they compare the iron of their ancestors
to the gold of those from whom they immediately derived
their birth? I doubt not but the nobility will retrench
from their coats of arms, an unworthy distinction, which
dishonours them, and leave the present generation in the
despicable state to which it has reduced itself.
Paris, the 11th of
the moon Rhamazan, 1720.
LETTER CXLVII.
The
Chief Eunuch to
Usbek at
Paris.
THINGS are come
to such a pass here, that the state they are in is
almost desperate; your wives have taken it into their
heads, that your departure has left them entirely at
liberty, and that they may do what they please with
impunity: most shocking things are done here, I cannot
write the dreadful account of them without trembling.
Zelis, as she was the other day going to the mosque, let
drop her veil, and appeared with her face almost
entirely uncovered before the people. I found Zachi in
bed with one of her female slaves, a thing positively
forbidden by the laws of the seraglio. I, by meer
accident, surprised the letter which I now send you; I
could not possibly discover who it was intended for.
Yesterday a young lad was found in the garden of the
seraglio, but he made his escape over the walls. To this
add all that has escaped my knowledge; you must
doubtless have been betrayed. I wait for your orders,
and till the happy moment that I receive them, shall
remain in constant anxiety. But if you do not give me an
arbitrary power over all these women, I cannot answer
for any of them, but shall every day have news equally
afflicting to send you.
From the seraglio
at Ispahan, the 1st of the mooon Regeb, 1717.
Usbek to the
Chief Eunuch at the Seraglio
of Ispahan.
RECEIVE, by
virtue of this letter, an unlimited power over the whole
seraglio: command with as much authority as I do myself:
let fear and terror accompany you every where; visit
every apartment with correction and punishment; let
consternation seize upon all; let all shed tears in thy
presence: question all that belong to the seraglio:
begin with the slaves; do not spare even my love: let
all be subject to your awful tribunal: discover the most
hidden secrets; purify the infamous place, and make
banished virtue return once more to it. For, from this
moment, I will place the smallest faults committed there
to your account. I suspect that Zelis is the person to
whom the letter you intercepted was addressed: pry into
that affair with the eyes of a lynx.
From * * *, the
11th of the moon Zilhage, 1718.
LETTER CXLIX.
Narsit to
Usbek, at
Paris.
HONOURED Lord,
the chief of the eunuchs is just dead: as I am the
eldest of your slaves, I have taken his place, till you
signify to me whom you have chosen for it. Two days
after his death, one of your letters, directed to him,
was brought me; I took care not to open it; I folded it
with respect, and locked it up till you think proper to
inform me of your sacred pleasure. Yesterday a slave
came in the midst of the night, to tell me, that he had
found a young man in the seraglio; I got up, made a
strict search, and found that it was the effect of his
imagination. Ever honoured lord, I kiss thy feet; and
beg thou wilt put confidence in my zeal, my experience
and my age.
From the seraglio
at Ispahan, the 5th of the moon of the 1st Gemmadi,
1718.
LETTER CL.
Usbek to
Narsit, at the Seraglio of
Ispahan.
WRETCH that thou
art! thou hast in thy hands letters which contain orders
that require to be carried into execution with the
utmost speed; the least delay may reduce me to despair,
and you remain inactive under a frivolous pretext!
Terrible things happen in the seraglio: perhaps one half
of my slaves deserve death. I send you herewith the
letter which the chief of the eunuchs wrote to me upon
that subject, just before he died. If you had opened the
packet which is directed to him, you would have found
bloody orders in it. Read therefore those orders, and
execute them punctually, or thou shalt perish.
From * * *, the
25th of the moon Chalval, 1718.
LETTER CLI.
Solin to
Usbek, at Paris.
WERE I to keep
silence any longer, I should be as guilty as any of
those wicked wretches in the seraglio. I was the
confidant of the chief eunuch, the most faithful of your
slaves. When he saw himself near his latter end he sent
for me, and addressed me in these terms: I am dying, but
the only thing that gives me uneasiness at leaving the
world, is that with my dying eyes I have beheld the
guilt of my master’s wives. May heaven preserve him from
all the misfortunes which I foresee! After my death, may
my threatening shade return, to put these perfidious
women in mind of their duty, and intimidate them even
then: here are the keys of those awful places; go, carry
them to the oldest of the black eunuchs. But if after my
death, he should be deficient in diligence, take care to
let your master know. Having uttered these words he
expired in my arms. I am not ignorant of what he wrote
to you concerning the conduct of your wives, a little
before his death; there is a letter in the seraglio,
which would have occasioned general terror, if it had
been opened. That which you wrote since, was
intercepted, three leagues from hence. I do not know
what it is owing to; but all things turn out unhappily.
Your wives however no longer keep within the bounds of
decency: since the death of the chief eunuch, their
behaviour is altogether licentious; Roxana is the only
one that does her duty, and continues to retain her
modesty. Their morals grow more corrupt every day. One
can no longer discover in the countenances of your
wives, that severe and rigid virtue which might so
easily be discerned there before: an unusal joy which
reigns in this place, in my opinion, proves some new
satisfaction in those who live here. In the most
trifling circumstances, I observe, that they take
liberties unknown to this place before. There prevails,
even amongst your slaves, an indolence in the discharge
of their duty, and a remissness in observing the rules
of the seraglio, which I am quite surprised at; they are
no longer inspired by that warmth of zeal, which seemed
to animate the whole seraglio. Your wives have been
eight days in the country, at one of your most neglected
seats. It is said, that the slave who takes care of it,
was gained over by them, and that two days before their
arrival, he caused two men to be hid in a hollow place
in the wall of the principal chamber, which they came
out of in the evening, after we had retired. The old
eunuch, who is at present at the head of the seraglio,
is a dotard, who believes whatever he is told. Such
horrid perfidy excites my indignation: and if heaven,
for the good of your service, would make you think me
capable of ruling, I can answer for it, that if your
wives did not prove virtuous, they would at least prove
faithful.
From the seraglio
at Ispahan, the 6th of the moon of the 1st Rebiab, 1719.
LETTER CLII.
Narsit to
Usbek, at
Paris:
ROXANA and Zelis
had a desire to go to the country: I thought it would
not be proper to refuse them. Happy Usbek! your wives
are faithful, and your slaves vigilant: I command in a
place which seems to be the asylum of virtue. Depend
upon it nothing is done there, but what you would
willingly behold yourself. An unhappy accident has
happened, which gives me great uneasiness. Certain
Armenian merchants, lately arrived at Ispahan, brought
one of thy letters to me; I sent a slave in quest of it;
he was robbed at his return, and the letter is lost.
Write to me therefore speedily, for I take it for
granted, that in this change of affairs, you have
something important to enjoin me.
From the seraglio
at Fatme, the 6th of the moon of the 1st Rebiab, 1719.
LETTER CLIII.
Usbek to
Solin, at the Seraglio of
Ispahan.
I PUT the sword
into your hand, I entrust you with what is of all things
most dear to me, that is my revenge. Enter upon this
employment, but enter upon it without either compassion
or feeling. I have wrote to my wives to obey you
implicitly; in the confusion which so many crimes have
made them obnoxious to, they will not be able to stand
even your looks. To you I must be indebted for my
happiness and ease. Restore me my seraglio in the
condition I left it. Begin by purifying it; destroy the
guilty, and make those who propose to become so,
tremble. What may you not expect from your master in
recompence for such signal services! It will be in your
own power to rise above your condition, and all the
rewards you could ever have wished for.
Paris, the 4th of
the moon Chahban, 1719.
LETTER CLIV.
Usbek to his Wives, at the
Seraglio of Ispahan.
MAY this letter
have the effect of thunder, which falls in the midst of
lightning and tempests! Solin is now the chief eunuch,
but his business is not so much to guard as punish you.
Let the whole seraglio humble itself before him. He is
to pass a judgment upon your past actions; and for the
future he will make you live under so rigorous a yoke,
that you will regret your liberty, if you do not regret
your virtue.
Paris, the 4th of
the moon Chahban, 1719.
LETTER CLV.
Usbek to
Nessir, at
Ispahan.
HAPPY the man,
who being fully convinced of the value of a life of ease
and tranquility, deposits his heart in the midst of his
own family, and never knows any country but that in
which he was born. I live in a barbarous country,
whatever offends me being present, whatever I have a
regard for being at a distance from me: a deep
melancholy seizes upon me; I sink into a most shocking
depression of spirits: I think myself almost
annihilated; and I do not become sensible of my
existence, till a dismal jealousy comes to kindle and
produce in my heart, fear, suspicions, hatred and
regret. You know me, Nessir, you are as well acquainted
with my heart as your own. You would pity me, if you
knew in how deplorable a condition I am. Sometimes I am
obliged to wait six whole months for news from the
seragho; I reckon every moment as it passes, my
impatience makes them appear to me of a tedious length;
and when the long expected moment is approaching, a
sudden revolution arises in my heart; my hand trembles
at opening the fatal letter; that anxiety which made me
despair, I look upon as the happiest state I can be in,
and I dread being forced from it, by a stroke that
would, to me, be more cruel than a thousand deaths. But
whatever reasons I may have had to leave my country,
though I owe my life to absenting myself, I can no
longer, Nessir, bear this dismal banishment. Must I not
die equally a victim to my grief? I have a thousand
times importuned Rica to quit this foreign country: but
he thwarts all my resolutions; he confines me here upon
a thousand pretexts: he seems to have quite forgot his
country; or rather he seems to have forgot me; so
insensible does he seem to my uneasiness. Unhappy wretch
that I am, I wish to see my country again, yet perhaps
it is to become still more unhappy: What can I do there?
I shall expose my life again to my enemies. This is not
all, I shall enter the seraglio; I must there exact an
account of what passed in the fatal time of my absence;
and if I find my wives guilty, what will become of me?
If the very idea is insupportable to me at this
distance, what must the effect be, when my presence
renders it so much more lively? How great must my
trouble be, if I am obliged to see and hear what I
cannot even think of without shuddering? How dreadful
will it be, if punishments, which I must myself cause to
be inflicted, should be the eternal marks of my
confusion and despair? I shall go and shut myself up
within walls, more terrible to me than to the women who
are there confined; I shall carry with me all my
suspicions, the ardour of their caresses will not in the
least diminish them; in my bed, in their very arms, I
shall feel all my inquietudes; at a time so improper for
reflections, jealousy will be a constant source of the
most uneasy ones. Worthless out-casts of human nature,
vile slaves, whose hearts are for ever shut to all the
sentiments of love; you would no longer lament your
condition, if you knew the misery of mine.
Paris, the 4th of
the moon Chahban, 1719.
LETTER CLVI.
Roxana to
Usbek, at
Paris.
HORROR,
darkness, and terror reign throughout the seraglio, a
dismal melancholy surrounds, a tyger there gives a loose
to all his rage at every moment. He caused two white
eunuchs to be tortured, but they did not make confession
of any crime; he has sold some of our slaves, and
obliged us to change those those that remained among
ourselves. Zachi and Zelis have in the darkness of the
night, received in their chamber the most unworthy
treatment; the villain has been so audacious as to lay
his sacrilegious hands upon them. He keeps us all locked
up in our respective apartments; and though we are
alone, obliges us to wear our veils. We are not allowed
to speak to each other; to write would be deemed highly
criminal; we are free in nothing but our tears. A croud
of new eunuchs has entered the seraglio, where they
watch us night and day; our sleep is every moment
interrupted by their real, or feigned distrusts. My only
comfort is, that this cannot last long, and that all
these troubles must end with my life: it will not last
long, cruel Usbek; I will not give you time to put a
stop to all these outrages.
From the seraglio
at Ispahan, the 2d of the moon Maharran, 1720.
LETTER CLVII.
Zachi to
Usbek, at
Paris.
O HEAVENS! a
barbarous wretch has outraged me; in the very manner of
punishing, he has inflicted upon me that kind of
punishment which shocks modesty; that chastisement which
gives rise to the deepest humiliation; that chastisement
which brings us back, as it were, to a state of infancy.
My soul at first sinking with shame, recovered sentiment
of itself, and began to be seized with indignation, when
my cries made the vaults of the seraglio resound. I was
heard to beg for mercy, from the lowest of human kind,
and to endeavour to excite his compassion as he grew
inexorable. Ever since his insolent and servile soul has
got the ascendant over mine, his presence, his looks,
his words, drive me to distraction. When I am alone, I
at least have the consolation of shedding tears: but
whenever he appears, I am seized with a transport of
rage, and finding my rage impotent, I sink into despair.
The tyger dares to tell me, that you are the causer of
all these barbarities. He would even deprive me of my
love, and profane the sentiments of my heart. When he
pronounces the name of the man I love, I can no longer
complain; I can only die. I have borne your absence, and
preserved my love by the force of my passion. Nights,
days, and moments, were all dedicated to you. I even
valued myself upon my love, and yours for me caused me
to be respected here. But now—no, I can no longer bear
the abject condition to which I am fallen. If I am
innocent, return and restore me to yourlove; if I am
guilty, return, that I may expire at your feet.
From the seraglio
at Ispahan, the 2d of the moon Maharran, 1720.
LETTER CLVIII.
Zelis to
Usbek, at
Paris.
THOUGH thirty
leagues distant from me, you pronounce me guilty; though
thirty leagues distant from me, you punish me. If a
barbarous eunuch lays his vile hands upon me, he does it
by your orders: it is the tyrant that outrages me, and
not the tyrant’s instrument. You may, if you think
proper, add to your cruel treatment. My heart is quite
at ease, now that it loves you no longer. Your soul
degrades itself, and you are grown cruel. Depend upon
it, you are not possessed of my affections. Farewel.
From the seraglio
at Ispahan, the 2d of the moon Maharran, 1720.
LETTER CLIX.
Solin to
Usbek, at
Paris.
HONOURED Lord, I
am equally afflicted upon my own account and yours;
never was faithful servant reduced to so deep a despair
as I am. I send you here a narrative of your own
misfortunes and mine, which I write with a trembling
hand. I swear by all the prophets in heaven, that since
thou didst entrust me with thy wives, I have watched
over them night and day; that I never for one moment
remitted of my vigilance in the least. I began my office
with correction, and discontinued it, without departing
from my natural austerity. But what am I saying?
Wherefore do I boast of a fidelity which has been of no
service to thee? Forget all my past services; consider
me as a traitor, and punish me for all the crimes I have
not been able to prevent. Roxana, the haughty
Roxana—Heavens, in whom can we henceforward place any
confidence! you suspected Zelis, and you were perfectly
secure with regard to Roxana, but her fierce virtue was
a most odious impostor; it was only a veil to her
perfidy. I surprized her in the embraces of a young man,
who, as soon as he saw himself discovered, run at me; he
gave me two stabs with a poignard; the eunuchs, who ran
together upon hearing the noise, surrounded him: he
defended himself a long time, and killed several; he
would even have re-entered the chamber, in order, as he
said, to die in the presence of Roxana. But being at
last oppressed by numbers, he fell dead at our feet. I
know not, honoured Sir, whether I shall wait your severe
orders. You have entrusted me with your revenge, and I
ought not to defer it.
From the seraglio
at Ispahan, the 8th of the moon of the first Rebiab,
1720.
LETTER CLX.
Solin to
Usbek, at
Paris.
MY resolution is
taken, thy misfortunes will shortly vanish; I am
preparing to punish. I already feel a secret joy: my
soul and thine will shortly be appeased; we will
exterminate the criminal, and even the innocent shall
shudder. O you, who seem to be made for nothing but to
be ignorant of your own senses, and offended at your
desires, eternal victims of shame and modesty, why
cannot I make you enter this unhappy seraglio, to see
your surprize at the torrents of blood I am going to
shed!
From the seraglio
at Ispahan, the 8th of the moon of the first Rebiab,
1720.
LETTER CLXI.
Roxana to
Usbek, at
Paris.
IT is true, I
have imposed upon thee, I have suborned thy eunuchs; I
have made sport of thy jealousy; and I have found means
to make thy frightful seraglio an abode of bliss and
delight. I am upon the point of death; poison will soon
put an end to my life; for why should I live, when the
only man who rendered life desirable is no more! I die:
but my shade will be well attended. I have just sent
before me the sacrilegious guards, who have shed the
most precious blood in the world. How couldst thou think
me weak enough to consider myself as born only to adore
thy caprice? that whilst you allowed yourself the full
indulgence of all your desires, you had a right to
thwart mine in every respect? No, though I have lived in
a state of servitude, I contrived means to be always
free: I reformed your laws by the laws of nature; and my
mind has always continued in a state of independency.
Thou oughtest even to thank me for the sacrifice which I
have made thee; for having descended so low as to
counterfeit a passion for you; for having basely
concealed within my breast, what I should have published
to thee; in fine, for having profaned virtue, by
suffering my bearing with your humours to be called by
that name. You were surprized at never observing in me
the transports of love: had you known me well, you would
have discovered in me all the violence of hatred. But
you have long enjoyed the happy deception of thinking
yourself possessed of such a heart as mine: we were both
satisfied; you thought me deceived, whilst I deceived
you. You must doubtless be surprized at my addressing
you in such a stile as this. Is it possible then, that
after having overwhelmed thee with my affliction, I
should still have it in my power to make thee admire my
resolution? But all this is over now, the poison wastes
me away, my strength forsakes me, the pen drops from my
hand; I find even my hatred grow weaker: I die.
From the seraglio
at Ispahan, the 8th of the moon of the 1st Rebiab, 1720.