CORNEX.L UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Gift of J. p. Merton Cornell University Library PQ 2011.L5E4 1901 3 1924 027 361 439 Cornell University Library The original of tiiis bool< is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924027361439 Copyright, 1901, M. WALTER DUNNE, PUBLISHER ILLUSTRATIONS A Dream op the Orient . . . Frontispiece Hand-painted photogravure after the painting by Benjamin Constant The Sword Dance . . . . . . .145 Photogravure after the painting by GSrome SPECIAL INTRODUCTION IF BVBR satire had a distinct call to duty it was daring the Regency in France. The ruling class was honey- combed with corruption. T he country was groanin g under its monarchical afflictions. There seemed to be no hope for the peoples salvation from disastrous fate. They were patient, long-suffering beasts of burden, content to be saddled, bridled, and ridden by a pestiferous breed of hea rt- le ss incompetents, whose sole object in lifp was s plfisVi pl>'g«;iirp at anyone's expense but their own ^_^The cauldron was seething meanwhile, but did not boil over till near the century end. This was a splendid opportunity for great souls with great courage, if any had existed. The old prophets of Israel would have madie the hills echo with their ringing denuncia- tions of wickedness in high places. Strong champions of human rights would have flashed the sword and fired the spirits of men worthy the name into triumphant vindication of the common right to fair play. But the patriotism of the period was a sorry substitute for the genuine thingc It whined and whispered when it should have shouted. It meekly accepted the r6le of the deaf and dumb Fenella, popping out here and there with mysterious gesticulations and enigmatical signalings, which conveyed meanings of momentous importance, or none, according as one chose to interpret them. The reformer spoke with a muzzle on his mouth, and sometimes it was a golden one. The satirist is usually a reluctant martyr. He seeks to do good but prefers to do it by stealth and suggestion. Montesquieu was more, or less, than a satirist. A man of high education, versed in the theory and practice of law, an aristocrat of title and wealth, occupying a public position of great influence. He might have given bold utterance to his sentiments and defied officialdom. Instead, he chose the smoother path. He would poke mild - fun at (ix) X PERSIAN AND CHINESE LETTERS the abuses of the day. To do this in his own person might not be so effective as if it purported to be the spontaneous impressions of some foreign traveler. The^jOrientaJi mind Tras^^knoffisJ»'i>e™siB®B;Ml3L«P,«0elraJax««^^ at the gist of things and expressing keen judgments with a suawfy''which Jorhade'"jke^^XS^kmg o£ offense. Bd'lvJonTgS- quieu adopted the device of a series of familiar letters ex- changed by t wp Persian travelers in France. They were completed in |72i7~' Popular taste was captivated by the wit and pleasantry of the "I,etters." They gently satirized the abuses rife in church and state; society was held up to ridicule for its pet sins, and when an occasional thrust hurt too deeply, the gentle satiris t administ grcd t'^"' pglliaAiia?. n£. A_drQlL-Btr_Tnetaphysiciari, bf^t rat1ifir-j3£-.a.-ffeometer.,.and | naturalist. * So called because they wore a cap of the shape of a mortar, made of black velvet, ornamented with a gold band, t Pensies. INTRODUCTION IV In all likelihood the idea of the " Persian Letters '* oc- curred to Montesquieu before he left college. The first of them, dated the 21st of the moon of Muharram (January), 171 1, was written in his twenty-second year ; the last in his thirty-second. Reflections of his favorite reading are to be found in their framework, and critics have pointed out many resemblances to Dufresney's "Amusements," "The Turkish Spy," "The Spectator," the "Decameron," with borrowings from Erasmus and other less-known writers. But Montesquieu has at least spoiled nothing that he has used. The " Letters "j^re printed in Amsterdam, and pub- lished anonymously (in iTgj) ; and at once, as a friend of Montesquieu's had predicted, " they sold like loaves. " No French writer had ever before said so perfectly what all felt and were trying to say ; and it was done so skillfully, sp pleasantly, like a man telling a story after supper. /^ Kt the time they appeared the social order of the ancien ' -rigjMe was beginning to crumble about the monarchy. "Tne revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685, by exiling \/the Huguenots, had deprived the country of many of its m gst industrious subj ects ^and struck a disastraus-blow at its trade ; the power of France, built up peacefully by Mazarin and Colbert, had been shattered at Ramilies and Malplaquet ; and Xouis XIV. 's -acceptance of the Bull Uni- 4 zenitus directed^ against tha jansen ists, h ad_destr oyed the last remnant of religious liberty. As for the parliaments, Z' they were only able to mumble and grumble, endless edicts having pulled their teeth, as it were, one by one ; and the condition of the people was desperate in the extreme. . It is no wonder that when Louis XIV. died, the middle and lower classes thanked God with " scandalous frankness " as for a long-expected and certain deliverance. The upper classes were delighted also, although they hardly returned thanks in the same quarter, nor for the same relief. It was not a lightening of taxation. .some_, liberty of con- sdeaceTuiore equal laws, that the latter .anticipated, but the old liVpnsft, tVip ".-iiTipTigi'npH libftt^'t^igo » the idea of INTRODUCTION 7 which had never disappeared, but had been handed down, as Sainte-Beuve says, in direct and uninterrupted descent from the Renaissance to the Fronde, from the Fronde to the Regency, through De Retz, Saint-Evremond, Vendome, Bayle, to the Epicureans, Pyrrhonists, professors of an im- perturbable impiety, the unbelievers, as full and certain in their unbelief as Bossuet was in his faith, who made a by- word of the eight years from the death of lyouis XIV. to his successor's assumption of power. Grown sanctimonious i n h is old a gp, T^fMiio y:T\z liad made his subjects hypocrites. At his death the boast of vice succeeded to ostentatious devotion ; the court like one man changed from Tartuffe into Don Juan. All things were discussed, examined, and torn to shreds. The intestine quarrels of the Church gave scoffers the dgpOlfem'ty- they "would- have-made. 'Duboi^ debauchfed^jaHticsT Ivaw,^'ffi^^ bauched themselves : for gaming, which had before been confined to people of quality, became the common amuse- ment. Incest, too, was quite d la mode; and those who could not be in the height of the fashion had to be satis- fied with lesser vices. The autocratic rule of the Grand Monarque gave^^ce^^,.Jlig,^'^,^:affV Or- leans7'TEe""""un1believing Regent. " Hope, „4e,§j,re, -.-Specula- tion, knew no' bounds, all" things in heaven above and in the eariEK" beneath having become common and unclean. It is this period that jg reflected and criticised in the " Per- sian Iyetters."\^ V The " Persian letters " are the correspondence of several Persians, on a visit to Europe, with each other and their , friends in Ispahan. Rica, the younger of the two principal I wr iters, is good hnmo r£d^,.saBa^ie,„,jaM-J:sPIg§ejQlS-,_,the I ligStef side of Mo ntesquieu's„„natt^g;^JIis lively intellect ma5:es°"Inm a keen olaserver ; his youth and health enable him to go everywhere, see everybody,, and experience every- thing. He describes the surface of society witl^ a quick glance that sometimes pi^ri^es, deep enough, too.^The King of FranceT^lmougiT he has no mines of gold and silver, i ■'Ini 8 INTRODUCTION like the King of Spain, is much wealthier, deriving sup- plie s from an inex;b aHS,lJhlP snnrf,S..Jhe_vanit3M>^--^*&--S"b- ject&— He is likewise a magician, for his dominion extends to the minds of his subjects. If he has a costly war on and, and is short of money, he simply suggests that a liece of paper is a coin of the realm, and h is^Bfiople are tfaigKtway convinced of it. But this is a small matter. There is a much more powerful magician, the Pope, to wit, who sometimes makes the King believe that three are no more than one ; that .the Jj^adhseats is not bread, and the wine he_drinks„is_not,wine!^It is Rica who makes the dis- I covery that the Christian /religion prac tically consists in the \ nonfulfillment of an immense number of ieSious duties ; and it is he who quotes the epitaph" on fhe~diner-out, which re- calls by its numerical exactness Teufelsdrock's epitaph on Philippus Zaehdarm. "Here,* it runs, "rests one who never rested before. He assisted at five hundred and thirty funerals. He made merry at the birth of two thousand six hundred and eighty children. He wished his. friends joy, always varying the phrase, upon pensions amounting to two millions six hundred thousand livres ; in town he walked nine thousand six hundred furlongs, in the country thirty- six furlongs. His conversation was pleasing ; he had a ready-made stock of three hundred and sixty-five stories ; he was acquainted also from his youth with a hundred and eighteen apophthegms derived from the ancients, which he employed on special occasions. He died at last in the sixtieth year of his age. I say no more, stranger ; for how could I ever have done telling you all that he did and all that he saw. * * It is Rica who sketches the alchemist in his garret, praying fatuously that God would enable him to make a good use of his wealth*" the people whose conversation is a mirror which reflects only ttieir own impertinent faces ; the professional wits planning B. conversation of an hour's length to consist entirely of Ppons mots; the compilers who produce masterpieces by shift- Fg tEe booESTH^lTi^^^ram one " ji,fili to ano'therT the universal "decider," who knew more about Ispahan than his Persian inte.rlocutor ; t he French Academy, a body with * Letter LXXXVIII. •"•--•~~-«--''~---™---.- ,,-..» — , ^ •>>r " >< L ^ INTRODUCTION 9 fort y head^ all of theia chokeful of tropes, metaphors, and antitheses; the geometer, a martyr to his own accuracy, who was ofEeiided by a witty remark, as weak eyes are an- noyed by too strong a light; the quidnuncs, petits-maitres, lazxjoagistrateSijanaiJciergj bankrupts,, and operaldancers. Usbek is older, graver, given to meditation and reflection.\/ Although 'ff6m'Eis"eafIiest' youth a courtier, he has remained" uncorrupted. As he could not flatter, his sincerity made him enemies, and brought upon him the jealousy of the ministers. His life being in danger, he forsook the court, and retired to his country-house. Even there persecution followed him, and he determined on the journey to Europe. Rica went as his companion. The opening paragraph of I^etter XI^VIII. , in which Usbek characterizes himself, is undoubtedly descriptive of Montes- quieu. "Although I am not employed in any business of importance, I am yet constantly occupied. I spend my time observing, and at night I write down what I have noticed, what I have seen, what I have heard during the day. I am interested in everything, astonished at every- thing : I am like a child, whose organs, still oversensitive, are vividly impressed by the merest trifles.* Usbek can be as brilliant and satirical on occasion as his younger companion, but his aim is to probe to the heart of things, and he / knq ws that tr uth will only reveal itselOo a reverent search. ' To iim all fefig!o5S? are worthy' of respect,"and their minis- ters also, for " God has chosen for Himself, in every corner of the earth, souls purer than the rest, whom He has sep- arated from the impious world that their mortification and their fervent prayers may suspend His wrath." He thinks that t he s urest way to p lease God is to obey _the__laws of ^'(ydiety, ' and to^d o^B^^roty''' toward me'nr Eveiy religion as^!mes that God loves men, since He establishes a religion for their happiness ; and since He loves men we are certain of pleasing Him in loving them, too. UsBek^s prayer in I^etter XIvVT. i^ hot yet "out of date."" "Lord, I do not understand any of those discussions that are carried on without end re- garding Thee : I would serve Thee according to Thy will ; but each man whom I consult would have me serve Thee according to his." He insists that religion is intended for / lo INTRODUCTION man's happiness ; and that, in ordei to love it and fulfill its behests ^t is no t ja eressarv to hat e-^and-per-seeate-these who are opposed to our beliefs ;3;;^not, necessary .even to .attempt to convert them. Indeed, he holds that variety, oLJbelief is beneficial to a state. A new sect is always the surest means of correcting the abuses of an old faith ; and those who profess tolerated creeds usually prove more useful to their country than those who profess the established religion, /because, being excluded from all honors, their endeavor to ^distinguish themselves by becoming wealthy improves trade land commerce. Proselytism, with its intolerance, its afflic- tion of the consciences of others, its wars and inquisitions, is an epidemic disease which the Jews caught from the Egyptians, and which passed from them to the Christians and Mohammedans, a capricious mood which can be com- pared only to a total eclipse of human reason. " He who would have me change my religion is led to that, with- out" doubt, because he would not change his own, although force were employed ; and yet he finds it strange that I will not do a"lhing" which 'ISO^it ^ippiywill n ot do. perhaps fo r 7 the. em pire of the wo rld."* Usbek is a sophist, but it is quite evident that he is no bigot ; he even goes further than Montesquieu himself, a wit of the Regency, felt to be right ; and which he praises suicide as being no more a disturbance of the order of Providence than the making a round stone square, he is rapped over the knuckles with the reminder that the preservation of the union of body and soul is the chief sign of submission to the decrees of the Gjreator. / Usbek has his character sketches as well as Rica. He gives a lively description of those geniuses who frequent the coffeehouses, and on quitting them believe themselves four times wittier than when they entered. The savage king sitting on his block of wood, dressed in his own skin, and inquiring of the sailors if they talked much of him in France, is an illustration of his. One letter, the forty- eighth, is quite a picture gallery. Usbek is in the country at the house of a man of some note ; and he describes to his friend Rhedi various members of the company he meets. * Letter LXXXVI. INTRODUCTION ii There are vulgar farmers-general wlio brag of their cooks ; jaunty confessors, necessities of female existence, who can cure a headache better than any medicine ; poets, the gro- tesquest of humankind, declaring that they are born so; the old soldier, who cannot endure the thought that France has gained any battles without him ; and last, but not least, the lady-killer who has a talk with Usbek. * < It is fine weather,' he said. 'Will you take a turn with me in the garden ? * I replied as civilly as I could, and we went out together. * I have come to the country, ' said he, ' to please the mistress of the house, with whom I am not on the worst of terms. There is a certain woman in the world who will be rather out of humor ; but what can one do ? I visit the finest women in Paris ; but I do not confine my attentions to one ; they have plenty to do to look after me, for, between you and me, I am a sad dog.' *In that case, sir,' said I, 'you doubtless have some office or employment which prevents you from waiting on them more assidu- ously?' *No, sir; I have no other business than to pro- voke husbands, and drive fathers mad ; I delight in alarming a woman who thinks me hers, and in bringing her within an ace of losing me. A set of us young fellows divide up Paris among us in this pursuit, and keep it wondering at everything we do.' 'From what I understand,' said I, *you make more stir than the most valorous warrior, and are more regarded than a grave magistrate. If you were in Persia you would not enjoy all these advantages ; you would be held fitter to guard our women than to please them,' The blood mounted to my face ; and I believe had I gone on speaking, I could not have refrained from affronting him." Then there are casuists, great lords, men of sense and men of none, bishops, philosophers and philos- •ophasters, all pricked off as deftly as any of Rica's acquaintances, and with less exaggeration, if with more sobriety. One brief dramatic sketch must not be omitted. Has any one failed to meet the gentleman who says, " I believe in the immortality of the soul for six months at a time ; my opinions depend entirely on my bodily condition : I am a._Sp inozist. a SociT^ifm r-a Catholic T^unpi- ndl v or-d^vout , ^^'^';)rdiinfi:i.i?..t]2L.-?j"'^?. -gf- my animal smi it&r-tiie'''qiSlitv of 12 INTRODUCTION my digestion, the r arit y or heaviness .of _ the air X Jteathe, t helRgEtness o r^lidijy ofj^eJogC J ^^.t " ?^^ Montesquieu has distinguished the charaot&s of Rica and Usbek with care ; and during the first months of their stay in Europe, he succeeds with fair success in depicting their state of mind in the midst of, what was to them, a new world. Soon, however, they become in all except their domestic matters merely mouthpieces for the author's satire and criticism, and expounders of his theories. It is Usbek who in several letters explains those ideas which Montes- quieu afterward developed in U Esprit des Lois. On this subject he writes as a legislator, with the well-balanced judgment, the restraint and reserve which always temper Montesquieu's enthusiasm and control his expressions of opinion. Here in one sentence is the policy of U Esprit des Lois: "I have often inquired which form of govern- ment is most comformable to reason. It seems to me that the most perfect is that which, obtains its object with the least fric tion; so that the government which leads men by following.^ Ibeii^-^irQpensities^nd mdi the most perfect." t -And in the following has been detectedTthe philosophy of Montesquieu's great book: "Nature always- works tardily, and, as it were, thriftily ; her operations are never violent ; even in her productions she requires temper- ancej_§tie-nsser"W&Ffea bu-t-by, rule and measure ; if she be hurried-^he-soon falls-iTito-— decline." J In fact, the latter portion of the "Persian Letters" is edited from Montes- quieu's commonplace book. It reveals his ideas on inter- national law, on the advancement of science, and on the origin of liberty ; and states those problems which were to be the study of his life. From the travels of Chardin and Tavemier, Montesquieu derived his knowledge of Persia. To Chardin he is partic- ularly indebted, not only for the background, but for his theory of despotism § and his theory of climates. || The story of the revolt of Usbek' s harem, though belonging to a style long out of fashion, is skillfully told, and will be * Letter I,XXV. t I/etter LXXXI. t Letter CXV. ? Letters CIII., CIV. \ Letter CXXII. INTRODUCTION 13 found to interest the most prudish reader in spite of some disgust. The forsaken wives, and long-winded pedantic eunuchs, are all French, of course, French people of the Regency ; and Usbek himself is as jealous as a petit-maitre. As for the story of Anais, and the sexual love of brother and sis- ter in " Apheridon and Astarte, " all that need be said of them is that they are characteristic of the mood of the Re- gency. The translator gave a passing thought to the pro- priety of omitting the former ; but the author did not omit it, so it appears. One word more on this subject, and it shall be a word from Montesquieu himself. He found his daughter one day with the " Persian I^etters " in her hand. **Ivet it alone, my child," he said. "It is a work of my youth unsuited to yours." VI Soon after the publication of the " Persian Inciters" Mon- tesquieu went to the capital to enjoy his reputation. There he found society more agreeable in Paris than in Versailles, because in the small world of the latter intrigue was the rule, whereas in the former people amused themselves. He became a member of the informal Club de V Entresol, which met on Saturdays in the house of President H6nault. Bolingbroke was the founder of this, club, and its most distinguished member. Among those who frequented it were the Abb^ de Saint-Pierre, D'Argenson, " secretary to the Republic of Plato," and Ramsai. Probably the princi- pal benefit which Montesquieu derived from his attendance at the Entresol was his introduction to Ivord Chesterfield ; but he continued a member until Cardinal Fleury inter- dicted the club in 1730, on account of the active part it began to take in politics. With the aid of Mademoiselle de Clermont l/ouis XIV. 's unspeakable tenth muse, Montesquieu was elected to the Academy in 1725 ; but his election was invalidated on account of his non-residence in Paris. He then returned to Bordeaux, sold his presidentship, acquired the necessary qualification, and, not without a questionable intrigue, was 14 INTRODUCTION elected in 1728 to the chair rendered vacant by the death of De Sacy, a forgotten translator. In the spring of the same year Montesquieu set out on his travels with a nephew of the Duke of Berwick, whose affairs called him to Vienna. It was during this journey that he applied for nomination to some diplomatic post. In urging his claim he pointed out that he was not duller than other men ; that, being of independent means, honor was the only reward he sought ; that he was accustomed to society, and had toiled (beaucoup travailW) to make him- self capable. The powers that then were, howevei, elected to dispense with his services. Montesquieu was much disappointed with his reception at the hands of the great. On his first entrance into so- ciety he had been announced as a man of genius, and had been looked on favorably by people in place ; but when the success of the " Persian Letters " proved that he actu- ally had ability, and brought him the esteem of the public, people in place began to be shy of him. It was no conso- lation for him to tell himself that ofi&cialdom, secretly wounded by the reputation of a celebrated man, takes vengeance by humiliating him, and that he who can endure to hear another praised must merit much praise himself.* He was deeply disappointed. In his youth he had written, "Cicero, of all the ancients, is he whom I should most wish to be like." A public career was denied him and he suffered, having set his heart on it ; but he was more of an ancient Roman than Cicero, if that was his ambition ; and it is surely better to be famous as the author of L' Es- prit des Lois, than to be infamous as one of Louis XV. 's ministers. In Italy he found Lord Chesterfield. The two men had already tested each other in the Entresol^ and they were now glad to travel together. Journeying to Venice, they met Law, the creator of credit, who, having preserved his taste for speculation and a fine diamond, passed his time in staking the latter at the gaming table. Montesquieu had dealt severely with him in the " Persian Letters," but that did not prevent Law from receiving him pleasantly ; * Penskes INTRODUCTION 15 nor did the ruined financier's complaisance prevent Montes- quieu from applying the lash again in U Esprit des Lois. From Venice they went to Rome. Montesquieu frequented the salon of Cardinal Polignac, the French ambassador; and the city, both ancient and modern, had its due effect. ( Before leaving it, he paid a visit to the Pope, Benedict XIII., who said to him, "My dear president, I wish you ' to carry away some souvenir of my friendship. To you and yours I grant permission to eat meat every day for the term of your natural lives." Montesquieu thanked the Pope and withdrew. Next day they brought him the dis- pensation with a note of charges. "The Pope," said Mon- tesquieu, returning the papers, " is an honest man ; I will not doubt his word ; and I hope God has no reason to doubt it either." An answer becoming a shrewd economic Gascon. After visiting Naples, Pisa, Florence, Turin, and the Rhine country, they arrived at The Hague, where Ches- terfield was English ambassador. From The Hague they sailed to England, reaching lyondon in November, 1729. VII Although Montesquieu lived in England for eighteen / months, there is but little to tell of his visit. According to his custom he went everywhere, and saw, if not everybody, certainly Walpole, Pope, and Swift. Montesquieu derived i immense benefit from his travels, because he was always pliant to the manners of the country in which he sojourned. "When I am in France," he said, "I swear friendship with everybody ; in England, with nobody ; in Italy, I do the agreeable all round ; in Germany, I drink with the whole world." He found England the most useful country to visit. Germany, he thought, was made to travel in, Italy to rest in, England to think in, and France to live in. Montesquieu left behind him a set of notes on England,, from which we can gather and condense his impressions. In I^ondon the people eat much flesh-meat, with the result that they t)ecome very stout, and collapse at forty or forty-five. 1 6 INTRODUCTION The streets of London are so bad, that it is advisable to make one's will before taking a hackney coach. The young English noblemen are divided into two classes : those who, having been to the University, have some learn- ing, and are consequently shamefaced and constrained ; and the shameless ones who know nothing, and are the petits- maitres of the nation. But the English in general are modest. Paris is a handsome city where there are ugly corners ; London is a villainous place containing some very beautiful things. The complaints of foreigners, especially of the French, in London, are lamentable. They say that they cannot make a friend ; and that their overtures are received as in- juries. But how can Kinski, the Broglies, and La Vilette, with their profuse French manners, expect the English to be like them? How should the English, who do not love each other, love strangers? I look on the King of England simply as a man who has a pretty wife, a hundred servants, a handsome equi- page, and a good table. People think him fortunate; but when he is left alone, and his door closed, and he has to quarrel with his wife and his servant, and swear at his butler, he is not so much to be envied after all. By dint of suspecting everybody, people grow hard hearted here. There are some Scotch members of parliament who can get only two hundred pounds for their votes, and who sell them at that price. A minister thinks only of defeating the opposition ; and to that end he would sell England — the whole world. Extraordinary things are done in England for money. The English do not even know the meaning of honor and virtue. I do not know what will be the upshot of European emigration to Africa and the West Indies; but I am cer- tain that England will be the first nation to be deserted by its colonies. The English make little effort at politeness, but are never impolite. INTRODUCTION 17 Women in England are reserved because they see little of the men. If a foreigner speaks to them, they suspect his intentions. " '■Je ne veux pas, ' disent-elles, GivB To him BNCOTJRAGBMBNT. " The]i:e.is, no religion in England. If reUgion is spoken of everybody laughs. England is at present the freest country in the world, °%i^SSEfeS453L£?Ey^^^<=- -1.-^.™!! free, , besauge . unlim- iteT^wer. . is JuDuthe- Jiands,-43£„±he.4Cing aadr-t-he - Earlia- ment. A good English citizen will therefore endeavor to protect liberty as much against the Commons as against the King. Montesquieu's impressions of England were written on his lands as well as in his books ; for when he returned to France he had his ancestral estate of I,a Br&de laid out in the English style. VIII The rest of Montesquieu's life was spent at his estates in the country and at Paris. He made great improvements in his land, and increased his revenues largely. At his death his income is said to have been sixty thousand francs. He was not ambitious to be rich ; but in all that he took in hand he wished to feel and to see signs of his ability. He has been accused of parsimony, but that is one of the commonest charges the weak have to bring against the strong. Order was the law of h jg.. being, and . prodig ality-aad^jdissipation, "as repugnant to him as anything__el§fe.jdiaotic. Indeed there was always too lutTe"cKaosabout Montesquieu.* He saw life steadily and \ saw it whole, too soon, too easily ; and he took a part for the whole^ But, to return, he was certainly not avaricious. H is enlightened ben evolence appeared in the moderate rents he charged.; .-and„4iiere 'are~"^verar"speciSc "sets' of "feneros- ity recorded. *His "tranquil chaos" was what Carlyle admired most in Ten- nyson. ; iS INTRODUCTION Henry Sully, an English astrgnomer of note, being at Bordeaux pursuing experiments in horology, received much attention at the hands of Montesquieu, then President of the Bordeaux Academy. One day Sully, reduced to his last sou, «no uncommon thing with inventors," wrote Montes- quieu a brief note, « very English and very artless » — « I am in the mood to hang myself, but I don't think I should do so if I had a hundred crowns." «I send you a hun- dred crowns," replied Montesquieu, "don't hang yourself, and come and see me." In the winter of 1747-48, Guienne, on account of the war with England, had been unable to import a sufficient quantity of grain. On the 7th of December, Montes- quieu, being at I^a BrMe, was told that the tenants on an estate of his fifty leagues away were almost famine stricken. He drove to the place at once with hardly a halt; sum- moned the curis of "the four villages," and while waiting for them examined the state of provisions. On their arrival he said, " Gentlemen, I beg you to assist me in procuring some help for your parishioners. You know those who are in need of corn, or of money to buy it. I wish all the grain in my barns to be distributed gratuitously. My stew- ard will hand it out in quantities to be fixed in proportion to the needs of those who are in want of it. It is not right that any one should lack the necessaries of life on my lands as long as I have a superabundance. Gentlemen, you are good fellows. I trust to you entirely to make this distribution. You will oblige me by carrying out my inten- tions promptly ; and by keeping the thing a secret. " Montesquieu then went away at once, to escape the thanks of his tenants. According to the friend — of a scenic turn of mind evidently — who accompanied him, wheat to the value of 6400 livres was distributed by the curis. To pre- vent the recurrence of the distress which he had so munifi- cently relieved, Montesquieu established on his estates granaries for the poor {greniers de charitS). Montesquieu was, indeed, one of the best of landlords and country gentlemen. He was looked upon in France as a species of "Milord Anglais," as interested in men as in books; and he was so — in the peasants of I/a Brfede, who INTRODUCTION 19 were **not learned enough to make the worse appear the better reason," as well as in the wits of Paris. His habits and manners were as simple as could be. He would go about 1/3. Br&de all day long with a white cotton cap on his head and a vine-pole over his shoulder ; in which guise he was, of course, mistaken more than once for a vine- dresser, and asked by those who came to offer him les hom- mages de V Europe, if that " was the chateau of Montes- quieu. " * A Genevese naturalist, Trembley, f whom he had met in Kngland, wrote to a friend, after having passed several days at I adding, *I have often thought of putting these words on the front of my house.'* The Earl of Charlemont wrote requesting an audience. | The reply was favorable, and he and his companion, so excited were they at the prospect of seeing the great man, arrived at his house before he was up. The servant put them into the library, where ** the first thing we saw was an open book lying on a table at which he had probably sat on the preceding evening : the extinguished lamp was still in position. Impatient to know the night reading of the great philosopher, we stepped at once to the volume : it was the ** Elegies of Ovid, " open at one of the most gal- lant pages. We had not recovered from our surprise, when it was increased by the entrance of the president, whose appearance and manners were entirely opposed to the idea which we had formed of him. Instead of a grave and *Garat, Mimoires sur le Dix-huitiime Siicle. tSayoux, Le Dix-huitiime Siicle & VEtranger. JFr. Hardy, « Memoirs of Charlemont." 20 INTRODUCTION austere philosopher, whose very presence would have intim- idated young folk like us, the person who addressed us was a Frenchman," — even the French philosophers are French ! — " gay, polished, full of vivacity, who, after a thousand agreeable greetings, and a thousand thanks for the honor which we did him, invited us to breakfast; but "... in short, we went to walk instead. " At the skirt of a fine wood, cut in alleys, surrounded by a paling, and entered by a gate three feet high and fastened with a chain, *Come on,' said he, after having searched in his pocket, ' it is not worth while waiting for the key. You can jump as well as I, I am sure, and it's not a gate like that I'm afraid of.' So sashing, he ran at the gate and leapt over it as light as you like. He had noticed our embarrassment on first meeting him — for we were much moved — and so he set to work, out of pure good nature, to put us at our ease. I^ittle by little his age and his genius disappeared so completely that the conversation be- came as free and easy as if we had been his equals in every respect. "We spoke of the arts and sciences. He questioned us on our travels, and as I had visited the East he addressed himself particularly to me, interesting himself in the smallest details of the lands through which I had traveled. I heard him say more than once that he regret- ted not having seen these countries. . . . After having made the tour of his estate, laid out in the English style, we returned and were received by Madame la Baronne and her daughter. . . . The meal was simple and abundant. After dinner Montesquieu insisted that we should stay, and he kept us for three days, during which his conversation was equally amusing and instructive." This, though of the gushing order, is evidently a true picture of the man wh o said. « He „.jgho writes wpII >1»^g r,r.4.,T,.ff|^ as people write, but_as he writes ; very often in talking badly such a one writes well." To himself may be applied what he said of Montaigne : « In most authors I see a writing man; in Montaigne, a thinking man." He was always saying, «The misfortune of certain books is the killing work one has to do in condensing what the author took so much trouble to expand." INTRODUCTION 21 IX This simplicity was the great charm of the man, as it is that of the writer. He never lectures the reader, he talks with him ; " he makes him assist him in his composition. " In Paris he was, a s i n the coun try, as in his books, even- temgerecL^mple. and_jpleasantly tnerry. In the very heat of conversation he never lost his equanimity. Simple, pro- found, sublime, he charmed, instructed, without offense : was even more marvelous in conversation than in his works :* " and always that same energy when his hatred of despotism lighted his face.^f Without bitterness, without satire, full of wit and brilliant sallies, no one could tell a better story, promptly, vividly, without premeditation. J And he was always more willing to listen than to talk ; he learned as much from conversation as from books. The Duchess de Chaulnes said of him, "That man makes his book in society : he remembers everything that is said to him, and only talks with those who have something to tell him worth remembering." Such a man requires the com- pany of the best brains to bring him out ; with common- place people he will be commonplace : and yet he could find wit in those who were called dull.§ It was possible, however, to bore him. On one occasion, when disputingf^ with some portentous councilor who got warm and cried, * M. le President, if it is not as I say, I will give you my head, " he replied, coolly, " I accept ; little gifts are the cement of friendship. "|| A certain young lady, un peu galante, annoyed him with a torrent of questions one even- ing. His opportunity came when she asked him in what happiness consisted. " Happiness, " he replied, " means for queens, fertility ; for maidens, sterility ; and for those who are near you, deafness. * ^ . Still he delighted in the com- * Maupertuis, £:ioge de Montesquieu. t Garat, MSmoires sur le Dix-huitUme Siicle. X D'Alembert, £loge de Montesquieu. \ Pensies. I Laplace, Piices intiressantes et peu connues. IT Ibid. 22 INTRODUCTION pany and conversation of women, and in his younger days did not object to be in their best graces. He tells us that he attached himself to such as he thought loved him, and detached himself as soon as he thought they didn't : * the manners of the Regency being somewhat different from ours. X The eighteenth century was in France the age of the "monstrous regiment of women." The divine right of kings, as it had done in Kngland half a century before, re- solved itself into the divine right of mistresses. One legacy bequeathed by them was the French Revolution ; modern conversation was the other. In England conversation re- mained among men, and produced clubs ; in France women invaded it, and the salon was the result : the heyday past, the Regent's mistress, the minister's mistress, opened a salon, where Montesquieu and all celebrities might meet to talk. Claudine Guerin de Tencin, saddened by the suicide of a lover and the arrival of her forty -fifth year; Madame Geoffrin, "whimsical and cross-grained," citizen's daughter, millionaire's widow, who had the excellent talent of draw- ing every one out in his own subject, and called her salon " a shop " ; Marie de Vichy, Marquise du Deffand, whom Massillon could not convert, who was interested in nothing, and had neither temperament nor romance ; and the Duchess de Chaulnes, the " intimate enemy " of Madame du Deffand, "a typical woman of the eighteenth century," delighting only in wit, bons-mots, and gallantry, and made piercingly sagacious by her wicked life: these and others like them kept salons, primarily for their own amusement. Jgamest talk on momentous matters was the one thing forbidden. Clear analysis of questions of finance, of moramyf^ of legis- lation, clear mockery of the problems of human destiny, and facile, brilliant, and winged talk, "on everything h propos of nothing," was the order of the day. Madame du Deffand was Montesquieu's favorite among these. She gathered about her in her own phrase les trotn- * Pensies. INTRODUCTION 23 peurs, le tromph, et les trompettes — everybody connected with diplomacy, in fact. In her salon the author of V Esprit des Lois learned much. "I like that woman," he said, " with all my heart ; she pleases me, amuses me ; it is impossible to weary in her company." It was in this society that Montesquieu " talked out " his books ; and the reader should remember that it was for this society they were written. Montesquieu was often glad to retire from the "official centres of conversation " to quieter houses, where he could be more at home, and where he could meet such marvels of the age as the two sisters of Madame de Rochefort, "the Marquise de Boufflers, who was faithful to her lover, and the Duchesse de Mirepoix, who was faithful to her hus- band." But of all salons he preferred that of the Duchesse d'Aiguillon. There he met the most interesting men of the day of all nationalities, attracted by the impartiality of the duchess, her abundant and original wit, her refined talk, her obliging manners, and her ability to speak four lan- guages. Gustavus III. called her the " living journal of the court, the city, the provinces, and the Academy." But she had judgment also ; and authors consulted her about their works. Montesquieu liked her for herself, and also because in her house he could meet Madame Dupr^ de Saint-Maur, wife of the Intendant of Bordeaux, who was "equally charming as mistress, as wife, and as friend." It was in the arms of Madame Dupre de Saint-Maur that Montesquieu died on the loth of February, 1755, in his sixty-sixth year. XI Of L' Esprit des Lois, perhaps the greatest French book of the eighteenth century. La Grandeur des Romains et leur dicadence, and Montesquieu's minor works, it is not necessary to speak here. It has been said that Montesquieu only wrote one book, the " Persian Letters " and the " Gran- deur and Decadence of the Romans" being studies for L'Esprit des Lois; but with a master the sketch is as per- fect a work of art as the completed picture. "Timidity"-^ 24 INTRODUCTION Montesquieu was a severe judge of himself — "timidity has been the curse of my life, " he said ; but his very dread of being weak — which he never was — helped to make his first work a masterpiece. XII Quesnay, the elder Mirabeau, Raynal, Morelly, Servan, Malesherbes, Voltaire, Beccaria, Filangieri, Blackstone, Fer- guson, all descend from Montesquieu ; and Gibbon found "the strong ray of philosophic light," which "broke from Scotland in our times " upon political economy, only a re- flection, though with a far steadier and more concentrated force, from the scattered but brilliant sparks kindled by the genius of Montesquieu. Chateaubriand and Benjamin Constant imitated him ; Talleyrand, the best servant France ever had, was his disciple. Catherine of Russia said, " His Esprit des Lois is the breviary of sovereigns. " The men of the French Revolution swore by him. Robespierre was parodying him when he said, "The principle of demo- cratic government is virtue ; the means of its establish- ment, terror ; " and Napoleon honored him by discarding him as an ideologist. France never had a wiser counselor, "his blood and judgment were so well commingled ; » but he could not prevent the Revolution any more than Horatio could have saved Hamlet. JOHN DAVIDSON. London, September, 1891. SOME REFLECTIONS ON THE PERSIAN LETTERS* NOTHING in the " Persian Letters " has been found more attractive than the unexpected discovery of a sort of story, which can be followed easily from beginning to end. A chain of circumstance connects the various char- acters. In proportion as their stay in Europe is extended, the morals and manners of that part of the world appear to them less wonderful and odd ; and the degree in which they are affected by the marvelous and the eccentric depends upon the difference in their dispositions. On the other hand, the Asiatic seraglio f becomes more disorderly the longer Usbek remains away — that is to say, in proportion as frenzy increases and love abates. Another cause of the success of romances of this kind lies in the fact that events are described by the characters themselves as actually happening. This produces a sensa- tional effect unattainable in the narrative of an outsider ; and it is to this that the popularity of certain works which have appeared since the publication of the ** Persian Letters * is mainly due. Although in the regular novel, digressions are inadmis- sible unless they themselves constitute a fresh romance, and argudteafeiMve-discussion is" altog;ether beside the mark, since the characters are^Tiot brought together forJ:he,.j)urpose of chppping logic; yet, W the epistolary form, where accident •These reflections first appeared as an introduction to the quarto edition of the "Persian Letters » (1754), and have always been ascribed to Montesquieu himself. t A seraglio is a royal dwelling. Montesquieu uses the word as if it were synonymous with harem, the name of that portion of an oriental mansion in which the women are sequestrated. (25) 26 REFLECTIONS selects the characters, and the subjects dealt with are in- dependent of any design or preconceived plan, the author is enabled to mingle philosophy, politics, and morality with romance, and to connect the whole by a hidden and some- what novel, bond. So great was the sale of the "Persian Letters" when they came out that publishers did their utmost to ob- tain sequels. They buttonholed every author they met, and entreated him to write "Persian Letters." What I have just stated, however, should convince the reader that they do not admit of a sequel,* still less of any admixture with even the cleverest "letters" from the hand of another, t Some remarks have been found by many people suffi- ciently audacious ; but I beg them to consider the nature of the work. The Persians, who were to play so important a part in it, found themselves suddenly in Europe, trans- planted to all intents and purposes, into another world. It was therefore necessary for some time to represent them as ignorant and full of prejudices : J attention was bestowed exclusively on the formation and development of their ideas. Their first thoughts must have been exceptional. It seemed to the author that all he had to do was to endow them with singularity in as spirited a manner as he could ; and to this end what more was necessary than to depict their state of mind in presence of whatever appeared to them extraordinary? Nothing was further from his thoughts than the idea of compromising any principle of our religion — he did not even suspect himself of the simplest indis- cretion. What questionable remarks there are on religion will always be found united with feelings of surprise and aston- ishment, and not with any critical intention, still less with that of censure. Why should these Persians appear better I » Probably an allusion to Lord Lyttleton's « Letters of Selim,» pub- ^ lished in English in 1735, and shortly afterward translated into French. tA reference to the Lettres Turgues of Sainte-Foix, -which in the edition of 1740 appeared collectively with the « Persian Letters." tAt one time Montesquieu intended to remove what he called « cer- tain y«w«z7w » from the « Persian Letters"; but the intention was never carried out. PERSIAN LETTERS 27 informed when speaking of our religion, than when they discuss our manners and customs? And if they do some- times find our dogmas singular, it is always a proof of their entire ignorance of the connection between those dog- mas and other religious truths. The author advances this justification out of his love for these great truths, independently of his respect for the hu- man race, whose tenderest feelings he certainly did not intend to wound. The reader is, therefore, requested not for one moment to regard the remarks referred to as other than the result of amazement in people who could not fail to be amazed, or as the paradoxes of men who were in no condition to be paradoxical. The reader should also ob- serve that the whole charm of the work lies in the con- tinuous contrast between the existing state of things and the remarkable, artless, or odd manner in which they are regarded. Beyond a doubt, the nature and design of the " Persian I^etters '* are so obvious that they can only de- ceive those who are inclined to deceive themselves. INTRODUCTION 1721 1AM not about to write a dedication, nor do I solicit pro- tection for this work. It will be read, if it is good ; and if it is bad, I am not anxious that it should be read. I have issued these first letters in order to gauge the public taste ; in my portfolio I have a goodly number more which I may hereafter publish.* This, however, depends upon my remaining unknown : let my name once be published and I cease to write. I know a lady who walks well enough, but who limps if she is watched, f Surely the blemishes of my book are sufiicient to make it needless that I should submit those of my person to the critics. Were I known, it would be said, "His book is at odds with his character; he might have employed his time to better purpose ; it is not worthy of a serious man." Critics are never at a loss for such re- marks, because there goes no great expense of brains to the making of them. The Persians who wrote these letters lodged at my Tiouse, and we spent our time together : they looked upon me as a man belonging to another world, and so they con- cealed nothing from me. Indeed, people so far from home could hardly be said to have secrets. They showed me most of their letters, and I copied them. I also intercepted some, mortifying to Persian vanity and jealousy, which they had been particularly careful to conceal from me. I am therefore nothing more than a translator : all my endeavor has been to adapt the work to our taste and manners. I have relieved the reader as much as possible *Some of these letters were added in the edition of 1754. fThis lady has been identified with the author's wife. (29) 30 INTRODUCTION of Asiatic phraseology, and have spared him an infinitude of sublime expressions which would have driven him wild. Nor does my service to him end there. I have curtailed those tedious compliments of which the Orientals are as lavish as ourselves ; and I have omitted a great many trifling mat- ters which barely survive exposure to the light, and ought, never to emerge from the obscurity proper to "small beer." Had most of those who have given the world collections of letters done likewise, their works would have disappeared in the editing. One thing has often astonished me, and that is, that these Persians seemed often to have as intimate an acquaintance a& I myself with the manners and customs of our nation, an acquaintance extending to the most minute particulars and not unpossessed of many points which have escaped the ob- servation of more than one German traveler in France. This I attribute to the long stay which they made, without taking into consideration how much easier it is for an Asiatic to become acquainted with the manners and customs of the- French in one year, than it would be for a Frenchman to become acquainted with the manners and customs of the Asiatics in four, the former being as communicative as the latter are reserved. Use and wont permits every translator, and even the- most illiterate commentator, to adorn the beginning of his version, or of his parody, with a panegyric on the original, and to extol its usefulness, its merit, and its excellence. It should not be very difBcult to divine why I have not done so. One very excellent reason may be given : it would simply be adding tediousness to what is in itself necessarily tedious, namely, a preface. PERSIAN LETTERS IvETTER I USBBK To HIS FRIBND RUSTAN, AT ISPAHAN WE STAYED only one day at Koum. After having said our prayers before the tomb of the virgin who brought forth twelve prophets,* we resumed our journey, and yesterday, the twenty-sixth day since our de- parture from Ispahan, we came to Tauris. Rica and myself are perhaps the first Persians who have left their native country urged by the thirst for knowl- edge ; who have abandoned the amenities of a tranquil life for the laborious search after wisdom. Although born in a prosperous realm, we did not believe that its boundaries should limit our knowledge, and that the lore of the Kast should alone enlighten us. Tell me, without flattery, what is said of our journey : I do not expect that it will be generally commended. Ad- dress your letter to Erzeroum, where I shall stay for some time. Farewell, my dear Rustan. Rest assured that in whatever part of the world I may be, you have in me a faithful friend. Tauris, the 15th of the moon o4Saphar,t 17 11. *Fatima, daughter of Mohammec^ and wife of Ali — according to the Koran, one of the four perfect women. tMore eorrectly Safar, the second month of the Persian year. (31) 32 MONTESQUIEU'S LETTER II USBBK TO THB CHIBF BLACK EuNUCH, AT HIS SBRAGLIO IN Ispahan You are the faithful keeper of the loveliest women in Persia ; I have intrusted you with what in this world is most dear to me; you bear the keys of those fatal doors which are opened only for me. While you watch ■over this precious storehouse of my affections, my heart, at rest, enjoys an absolute freedom from care. You guard it in the silence of the night as well as in the bustle of the day. Your unrelaxing care sustains virtue when it wa- vers. Should the women whom you guard incline to swerve from their duty, you would destroy their hopes in the bud. You are the scourge of vice, and the very monu- ment of fidelity. You command them and they obey. You fulfill implicitly all their desires, and exact from them a like obedience to the laws of the seraglio ; you take a pride in rendering them the meanest services ; you submit to their lawful com- mands with reverence and in dread ; you serve them like the slave of their slaves. But, resuming your power, you command imperiously, as my representative, whenever you apprehend any slackening of the laws of chastity and modesty. Never forget that I raised you from the lowest position among my slaves, to set you in your present place as the trusted guardian of the dehghts of my heart. Maintain the most humble bearing in the presence of those who partake my love; but, at the same time, make them deeply con- scious of their own powerlessness. Provide for them all innocent pleasures ; beguile them of their anxiety ; entertain them with music, dancing, and delicious drinks ; persuade them to meet together frequently. If they wish to go into the country, you may escort them thither ; but lay hands on every man who dares to enter their presence. Exhort PERSIAN LETTERS 33 them to that cleanliness which is the symbol of the soul's purity; speak sometimes of me. I long to see them again in that delightful place which they adorn. Farewell. Tauris, the i8tli of the moon of Saphar, 1711. IvETTER III Zachi to Usbek, at Tauris WE INSTRUCTED the chief of the eunuchs to take us into the country ; he will inform you that we ar- rived there without accident. When we had to leave our litters in order to cross the river, we went, as usual, into boxes : two slaves carried us on their shoulders, and we were seen by nobody. Dear Usbek, how can I endure existence in your seraglio at Ispahan ! It recalls everlastingly my past happiness, provoking daily my desires with renewed vehemence. I wander from room to room, always searching for you, and never finding you ; mocked at every turn by the cruel memory of my vanished bliss. Sometimes I behold you in that spot where I first received you in my arms ; again I see you in the room where you decided that famous quar- rel among your women. Each of us asserted a superiority in beauty. We came before you, after having exhausted our fancy in decking ourselves with jewelry and adorn- ments. You noted with pleasure the marvels of our art ; you were astonished at the height to which we had carried our desire to please you. But you soon made those borrowed gfraces give way to more natural charms; you destroyed the result of our labors : we were compelled to despoil our- selves of those ornaments, now become tiresome to you, and to appear before you in the simplicity of nature. For me, modesty counted as nothing; I thought only of con- quest. Happy Usbek ! what charms did you then behold. Ifing you wandered from enchantment to enchantment, unable to control your roving fancy ; each new grace re- quired your willing tribute ; in an instant you covered us 3 34 MONTESQUIEU'S all with your kisses ; your eager looks strayed into the recesses of our charms ; you made us vary our attitudes a thousand times ; and new commands brought forth new obedience. I avow it, Usbek, a passion stronger even than ambition filled me with a desire to please you. Gradually I saw myself become your heart's mistress ; you chose me, left me, returned to me, and I knew how to keep your love : my triumph was the despair of my rivals. You and I felt as if we were the sole inhabitants of the world : nothing but ourselves deserved a moment's thought. Would to Heaven my rivals had been brave enough to witness all the proofs of love you gave me ! Had they watched well my transports they would have felt the dif- ference between their love and mine ; it would have been plain to them that, though they might dispute the palm of beauty, they could not vie with me in tenderness. . . . But what is this? Where has this vain rehearsal led me? It is a misfortune not to be loved, but to have love with- drawn from one is an outrage. You abandon us, Usbek, to wander in barbarous climes. What ! do you count it as nothing to be loved ? Alas ! you do not even know what you lose ! The sighs I heave there is none to hear ; my falling tears you are not by to pity. Your insensibility takes you further and further from the love that throbs for you in your seraglio. Ah ! my beloved Usbek, if yon only knew your happiness ! Th« Seraglio at Patme, the 21st of the moon of Maharram,* 1711. A I^ETTKR IV Zephis to Usbkk, at Erzbroum T LENGTH the black monster has resolved to drive me to despair. He is absolutely determined to deprive me of my slave, Zelida— Zelida, who serves me with such affection, and at whose magical touch new charms appear. , *-More correctly Muharram, the first month of the Persian year. Zachi's letter was, therefore, written about a month before the two that precede it. PERSIAN LETTERS 35 Nor is he satisfied with the pangs this separation causes me ; he is bent on my dishonor. The wretch pretends to treat as criminal the motives of my confidence, and because he was weary of standing behind the door, where I always tell him to wait, he dares to imagine that he heard or saw things which my fancy cannot even conceive. I am very unhappy ! Neither my isolation nor my virtue can secure me from his preposterous suspicions. A vile slave would drive me from your heart, and I am called on to defend myself even in your bosom ! — But no ; I am too proud to justify myself : you alone shall vouch for my behavior — your love and my love, and — need I say it, dear Usbek? — my tears. The Seragwo at Fatmb, the 29th of the moon of Maharram, 17 11. IvETTER V RusTAN TO Usbek, at Erzeroum You are the one subject of conversation at Ispahan ; noth- ing is talked of but your departure : some ascribe it to a giddy spirit, others to some heavy affliction ; your friends are your only defenders, and they make no converts. People fail to understand why you should forsake your wives, your relations, your friends, and your native country, to visit lands of which Persians know nothing. Rica's mother is inconsolable ; she wants her son again, whom, she declares, you have decoyed away. As for me, my dear Usbek, I am, of course, anxious to approve of all your actions ; but I do not see how I am to pardon your ab- sence, and, however good your reasons may be, my heart will never appreciate them. Ispahan, the 28th of the first moon of Rebiab,* 1711. '^ Rabi means «the spring » in Persian. Rabi-ul-awal, «the first (month) of spring,® is the third of the Persian year. 36 MONTESQUIEU'S LETTER VI USBEK TO HIS FRIEND NESSIR, AT ISPAHAN AT THE distance of a day's journey from Erivan we left Persian ground, and entered Turkish territory. Twelve days after, we reached Erzeroum, where we stayed three or four months. I own, Nessir, I felt sorry, though I did not show it, when I lost sight of Persia and found myself among the treacherous Osmanli. It seems to me that I become more and more of a pagan the further I advance into this heathenish country. * My fatherland, my family, and my friends caihe vividly before me ; my affections revived ; and, to crown all, an indefinable uneasiness laid hold of me, warning me that I had ventured on too great an undertaking for my peace of mind. But that which afflicts me most is the memory of my wives. I have only to think of them to be consumed with grief. Do not imagine that I love them : insensibility in that matter, Nessir, has left me without desires. Living with so many wives, I have forestalled love — it has indeed been its own destruction ; but from this very callousness there springs a secret jealousy which devours me. I behold a band of women left almost entirely to themselves ; except some low-minded wretches, no one is answerable for their conduct. I would hardly feel safe, if my slaves were faith- ful : how would it be if they were not so ? What doleful tidings may I not receive in those far-off lands which I am about to visit ! The mischief of this is, that my friends •The Persians generally belong to the sect of Shiites, who consider Abu Bekr, Omar, and Othman, the first three successors of Moham- med, as usurpers, and regard Ali, the cousin and son-in-law of the prophet, as the first true Iman, and equal to Mohammed. The Shiites also reject as unworthy of credit the Sonna, a collection of traditions which is the canon of the faith of the Sunites, the sect to which the Turks belong. PERSIAN LETTERS 37 are unable to help me ; they are forbidden to inquire into the sources of my misery ; and what could they do after all? I would prefer a thousand times that such faults should remain unknown because uncorrected, than that they should become notorious through some cotidign punish- ment ! I unbosom myself to you, my dear Nessir : it is the only consolation left me in my misery. Erzkroum, the loth of the second moon of Rebiab, 171 1. I.ETTER VII Fatme to Usbbk, at Erzeroxim You have been gone for two months, my dear Usbek, and I am so dejected that I cannot 3'et persuade my- self you have been so long away. I wander through every corner of the seraglio as if you were there ; I cher- ish that sweet delusion. What is there left to do for a ■woman who loves you ; who has been accustomed to clasp you in her arms ; whose only desire was to give you new proofs of her affection ; who was born to the blessings of freedom, but became a slave through the ardor of her pas- sion? When I married you, my eyes had not yet seen the face of man ; and you are still the only man whom I have been permitted to look on : * for I do not count as men those frightful eunuchs whose least imperfection is that they are not men. When I compare the beauty of your countenance with the deformity of theirs, I cannot forbear esteeming myself a happy woman : my imagination can conceive no more ravishing idea than the bewitching charms of your person. I pledge you my word, Usbek, that were I allowed to leave this place in which the neces- sity of my condition detains me; could I escape from the guards who hem me in on all sides — even if I were allowed to choose among all the men who dwell in this *In Persia the women are confined much more closely than among the Turks or Indians. — (M.) 38 MONTESQUIEU'S capital of nations — Usbek, I swear to you, I would choose none but you : there is no man else in the wide world worthy a woman's love. Do not think that your absence has led me to neglect those charms which have endeared me to you : although I may not be seen by any one, and the ornaments with which I deck myself do not affect your happiness, I strive notwithstanding to omit no art that can arouse de- light ; I never go to rest until I am all perfumed with the sweetest essences. I recall that happy time when you came to my arms ; a flattering dream deceives me, and shows me the dear object of my love ; my fond im- agination is whelmed in its desires ; sometimes I think that, digusted with the trials of your journey, you are hurrying home : between waking and sleeping the night is spent in such vague dreams ; I seek for you at my side, and you seem to flee from me ; until at last the very fire which burns me disperses these unsubstantial joys, and I am broad awake. Then my agitation knows no bounds. . . . You will not believe me, Usbek, but it is impossi- ble to live like this ; liquid fire courses in my veins : why cannot I find words to tell you all I feel, and why do I feel so deeply what I cannot utter ? In such moments, Usbek, I would give the world for a single kiss. What an unhappy woman is she who, having such passionate desires as these, is deprived of the company of him who alone can satisfy them ! Abandoned to herself, with nothing to divert her, her whole live is spent in sighs and in the frenzy of a goading passion. Instead of being happy, she has not even the privilege of ministering to the happiness of another: a useless ornament of a seraglio, she is kept for her husband's credit merely, and not for his enjoyment ! You men are the most cruel creatures ! Delighted when we have desires that we cannot gratify, you treat us as if we had no emo- tions — though you would be very sorry if that were so: you imagine that our long repressed love will be quickened when we behold you. It is very difficult for a man to make himself beloved ; the easiest plan is to obtain from our con- stitutional weakness what yon dare not hope to obtain through your own merit. PERSIAN LETTERS 39 Farewell, my dear Usbek, farewell. Believe that I live only to adore you : the thought of you fills my soul ; and your absence, far from making me forget you, would make my love more vehement, if that were possible. Thb Sbraguo at Ispahan, the 12th of the first moon of Rebiab, 1711. LETTER VIII Usbek to his friend Rustan, at Ispahan 1G0T your letter at Erzeroum, where I am now. I was quite certain that my departure would cause some stir, but that gives me no trouble : which would you have me obey — the petty maxims that guide my enemies, or the dictates of my own free soul? From my earliest youth I have been a courtier; and yet I make bold to say that my heart has remained uncor- rupted : indeed, I conceived the grand idea of daring to be virtuous even at court. From the moment I recognized vice, I withdrew from it ; afterward, when I approached it, it was only to unmask it. I carried my veracity even to the foot of the throne, and spoke a language never heard there before ; I disconcerted flattery, amazing at the same time the idol and its worshipers. But when I saw that my sincerity had made me enemies, and had brought upon me the jealousy of the ministers, without attracting the favor of the prince, I determined to forsake a corrupt court in which my unseconded virtue could no longer maintain me. I feigned a mighty interest in science; and, by dint of pretending, soon became reall3r attached to it. I ceased to be a man of affairs, and retired to a house in the country. But even here persecution fol- lowed me ; the malice of my enemies almost deprived me of the means of protecting myself. Information received in secret led me to consider my position seriously : I resolved to leave my native land, and my withdrawal from court 40 MONTESQUIEU'S supplied a plausible excuse. I waited on the king ; I em- phasized the great desire I had to acquaint myself with the sciences of the west, and hinted that my travels might even be of service to him. I found favor in the king's sight ; I set out, and snatched from my enemies their expected victim. Here, Rustan, you have the true motive of my journey, lyet them talk in Ispahan ; say nothing in my defense ex- cept to my friends. Leave the evil-disposed to their mis- constructions ; I would be too happy if that were the only harm they could do me. They discuss me at present ; perhaps I shall soon be for- gotten, and my friends. . . . But, no, I will not, Rustan, resign myself to these sad thoughts: I will always be dear to them ; I rely upon their faithfulness as upon yours. BRZSKOtTM, the 2oth of the second moon of Gemmandi* 1711. I.ETTER IX The Chief Kunuch to iBEi.f at Erzeroum YOTJ follow your old master on his travels; you wander through provinces and kingdoms; no grief can make any impression on you; you see new sights all day long; everything you behold entertains you, and you are unconscious of the flight of time. It is not so with me. Shut up in a hideous prison, I am always surrounded by the same objects; there is no change even in what vexes me. Weighed down by fifty years of care and annoyance, I lament my wretched case: all my life long I have never passed a single untroubled day, or known a peaceful moment. » The two Gemmadis, or Gemalis, are the fifth and sixth months of the Persian year. Gemal-i-ul-awal is the first of these. t This is the only letter To Ibbi, and there is only one from him, the XXXIX. He must not be confounded with Ibben, to whom many letters are addressed. PERSIAN LETTERS 41 When my first master formed the cruel design of intrust- ing his wives to my care, and induced me by flattering promises, supplemented by a thousand threats, to separate myself forever from my manhood, tired of the toilsome service in which I was engaged, I calculated that the sacri- fice of my passions would be more than repaid by ease and wealth. How unfortunate was I ! ■ Preoccupied with the thought of the ills I would escape, I had no idea of the others to which I fled : I expected that the inability to satisfy love would secure me from its assaults. Alas ! al- though passion had been rendered inefficient, its force re- mained unabated ; and, far from being relieved, I found myself surrounded by objects which continually whetted my desires. When I entered the seraglio, where everything filled me with regret for what I had lost, my agitation in- creased each moment ; a thousand natural charms seemed to unfold themselves to my sight only to tantalize me ; and to crown my misery, I had constantly before me their for- tunate possessor. While this wretched time lasted, I never led a woman to my master's bed without feeling wild rage in my heart, and despair unutterable in my soul. And thus I passed my miserable youth, with no confidant but my own bosom. Wearied with longing and sad as night, there was nothing left but to endure in silence. I was forced to turn the sternest glances on those very women whom I would fain have regarded with looks of love. It would have undone me had they read my thoughts : how they would have tyrannized over me ! I remember one day, as I attended a lady at the bath, I was so car- ried away that I lost command of myself, and dared to lay my hand where I should not. My first thought was that my last day had come. I was, however, fortunate enough to escape a dreadful death ; but the fair one, whom I had made the witness of my weakness, extorted a heavy price for her silence : I entirely lost command of her, and she forced me, each time at the risk of my life, to comply with a thousand caprices. At length, the fire of youth burnt out, I grow old and become, in that particular, at peace with myself. Women I regard with indiS'erence, I pay them back for all their 42 MONTESQUIEU'S contempt, and all the torments which I suffered through them. I never forget that I was born to command them, and in the exercise of my authority I feel as if I had recovered my lost manhood. I hate women now that I can regard them without passion, and detect and discuss all their weaknesses. Although I guard them for another, I experience a secret joy in making myself obeyed. When I take all their pleasures from them, I feel as if it were at my behest alone ; and that always gives me satis- faction more or less direct. The seraglio is niy empire ; and my ambition, the only passion left me, finds no small gratification. I mark with pleasure that all depends on me, and that my presence is required at all times : I will- ingly incur the hatred of all these women, because that establishes me more firmly in my post. And they do not hate me for nothing, I can tell you : I interfere with their most innocent pleasures ; I am always in the way, an in- surmountable obstacle ; before they know where they are they find their schemes frustrated ; I am armed with re- fusals, I bristle with scruples ; not a word is heard from me but duty, virtue, chastity, modesty. I make them des- perate by dinning them with the weakness of their sex, and the authority of our master. Then I lament the neces- sity which requires me to be so severe, and lead them to believe that my only motives are their truest interest and my profound attachment to them. Do not suppose that in my turn 1 have not to suffer endless unpleasantness. Every day these women seek occa- sions to repay me with interest, and their reprisals* are often terrible. Between us there goes on a constant inter- change of ascendancy and obedience. They are always putting me upon the meanest services ; they affect a sublime contempt; and, regardless of my age, they force me to rise ten times during the night for the merest trifle. I am worn off my feet with endless commissions, orders, employments, and caprices; one would think that they take turn about * Revers in the original. M. Labovilaye asserts that Montesquieu is the only writer who uses revers in the sense of revanche; but Littrg gives examples of a similar use of the word in Moliere and Bossuet. PERSIAN LETTERS 43 in inventing occupations for me. They often amuse them- selves by making me doubly vigilant ; they give me imag- inary confidences. Sometimes I am told that a young man has been seen prowling around the walls, or a startling noise has been heard, or some one is about to receive a letter. All this bothers me, and amuses them ; they are delighted when they see me tormenting myself. Sometimes they station me behind the door, and keep me standing there night and day. They well know how to pretend to be ill, to swoon away, to be frightened out of their wits : they are never at a loss to work their will on me. When they are in this mood, implicit obedience, unquestioning compliance are my only resources : a refusal from such a man as I am would be a thing unheard of ; and if I were to hesitate in obeying them, they would punish me at their discretion. I would sooner die, my dear Ibbi, than submit to such hu- miliation. But this is not all. I am never for an instant sure of my master's favor ; for each of his wives is an enemy who never ceases to hope for my ruin. They take advantage of certain snatches of time when I cannot be heard, when he can refuse them nothing, and when I am always in the wrong. I conduct to my master's bed women whose spite is roused against me : do you imagine that they will move a finger in my behalf, or say a single word in my favor? I have everything to fear from their tears, their sighs, their embraces, from their very pleasures ; it is their time of triumph ; their charms are arrayed against me : their pres- ent services obliterate in a moment all those rendered by me in the past ; and nothing can plead for me with a master who is no longer himself. Many a time I lie down high in my master's favor, and awake to find myself disgraced. The day on which they whipped me so ignominiously round the seraglio, what had I done? I leave a woman in my master's arms: when she sees him impassioned she bursts into a torrent of tears, and pours out complaints so skillfully that they become more anguished in proportion as the love she causes grows vehement. What could I do to defend myself at a crisis of that kind? When I least expected it, ruin overtook 44 MONTESQUIEU'S me ; I was the victim of an amorous intrigue, of a treaty sealed with sighs. Behold, dear Ibbi, the wretched plight in which I have always lived. What happiness is yours ! Your duties are confined to attendance on Usbek. It is easy for you to please him, and to retain his favor to your dying day. Ths Seraguo at Ispahan, the last day of the moon of Saphar, 171 1. LETTER X MiRZA TO HIS FRIEND USBEK, AT ErZEROUM I YOU alone could recompense me for the absence of Rica, and it is only Rica who could console me for yours. We miss you, Usbek ; you were the very life of our circle. How hard it is to break away from those attach- ments in which both the heart and the mind are engaged ! We have great debates here ; our talk turns principally on morality. We disputed yesterday whether true happi- ^ness consists in pleasure and sensual gratification, or in the practice of virtue. I have heard you often affirm that men were made to [be virtuous, and that justice is as indispensable to existence as life itself. I beg you to explain to me what you mean by this. I have spoken of this to the moUahs,* but they exasper- ate me with their quotations from the Koran ; for I do not consult them as a true believer, but as a man, a citi- zen, and the father of a family. Farewell. Ispahan, the last day of the moon of Saphar, 171 1. •Montesquieu spells it «Mollaks.» In Persia the moUah is a devotee ; in Turkey, a judge. PERSIAN LETTERS 45 LETTER XI USBEK TO MiRZA, AT ISPAHAN YOU waive your own judgment in deference to mine you even deign to consult me ; you profess yc belief in my ability to instruct you. My dear Mir; if there is one thing which flatters me more than yc good opinion of me, it is the friendship which prompts In the fulfillment of the task you have prescribed n I do not think there is any necessity for argument an abstruse orderTKThere are certain truths which it is r sufficient to know, but which must be realized : such s the great commonplaces of morality. Probably the folio ing fable will affect you more than the most subtle arg ment : Once upon a time there dwelt in Arabia a small tri called Troglodites, descendants of the ancient Troglodit who, if historians are to be believed, f were liker bea; than men. They were not, however, counterfeit presei ments of the lower animals. They had not fur like beai they did not hiss like serpents ; and they did possess t eyes : X but they were so malicious, so brutish, that th^j lacked all notion of justice and equity. A king of foreign origin reigned over them. Wishing to correct their natural wickedness, he treated them with severity ; but they conspired against him, slew him, and exterminated his line. They then assembled to appoint a governing body. After many dissensions, they elected magistrates. These had not been long in office, when they found them intolerable, and killed them also. Freed from this new yoke, the people were swayed only by their sava g-e instin cts. Every man determined to do *^*£ssayer la mienne^ a Gascon provincialism for USER, etc. The meaning is, therefore, as above, and not «to test mine.» t Herodotus, Plutarch, Pomponius Mela, and Pliny the Elder, are the authorities for the Troglodites. X Contradictions of assertions in Pomponius Mela. 46 MONTESQUIEU'S what was right in his own eyes ; and in attending to his own interests, the general welfare was forgotten. This unanimous decision gave universal satisfaction. They said : " Why should I kill myself with work for those in whom I have no interest? I will only think of myself: ihow should the welfare of others afEect me? I will provide for my own necessities ; and, if these are satisfied, it is no concern of mine though all the other Troglodites live in misery." Each man said to himself in seedtime, " I shall till no more land than will supply me with corn enough for my wants. What use have I for any more? I am not going to bother myself for nothing.* The land in this little kingdom was not all of the same quality : some of it was barren and mountainous ; and other portions, lying low, were well watered. One year a drought occurred, so severe, that the uplands bore no crop at all, while those that were well watered brought forth abundantly. In consequence of this, the highlanders almost all died of hunger, because the people of the lowlands had no mercy on them, and refused to share the harvest. The year after, the weather being very wet, the higher grounds produced extraordinary crops, while the lowlands were flooded. Again half the people were famine stricken; but the wretched sufferers found the mountaineers as hard as they themselves had been. One of the chief men of the country had a very lovely wife. A neighbor of his fell in love with her, and carried her off. This gave rise to a bitter quarrel ; and after many words and blows, the parties agreed to submit their case to the judgment of a Troglodite, who had been well esteemed during the republic. Having gone to him, they were about to argue the case before him, when he cried : « What does it matter to me whose wife she is? My land waits to be tilled ; and I am not going to waste my time settling your quarrels and doing your business, when I might be attend- ing to my own ; be kind enough to leave me alone, and trouble me no more with your disputes." With that he left them, and went to work in his fields. The ravishef, who was the stronger man, swore he would sooner die than PERSIAN LETTERS 47 give up the woman. The other, smarting under his neigh- bor's ill treatment and the unfeeling conduct of the umpire, was going home in despair, when he met a fine young woman returning from the well. Having no longer a wife of his own, he was attracted toward her ; and she pleased him all the more when he learned that she was the wife of him whom he had solicited to judge his case, and who had proved so pitiless to him. He therefore seized the woman and carried her to his house. Another man, the owner of some fairly productive ground, took great pains in its cultivation. Two of his neighbors conspired to drive him from his house, and seize his lands. They entered into a compact to oppose all who should try to oust them, and they actually succeeded for several months. One of the two, however, disgusted at having to share what rriight be his own exclusively, killed the other, and became sole master of the ground. But his reign was soon over : two other Troglodites attacked him, and as he was no match for them, they killed him. Still another Troglodite, seeing some wool exposed for sale, asked the price of it. The seller argued thus with himself : " At the market price I should receive for my wool as much money as would buy two measures of corn ; but I will sell it for four times that sum, and then I can buy eight measures." As the other wanted the wool, he paid the price demanded. * Many thanks," said the vendor, " I shall now buy some corn." " What," rejoined the buyer, <* you want com ? I have some to sell ; but the price will rather astonish you. You must know that, as there is a famine in the land, corn is extremely dear. If you return me my money, I will give you one measure of corn : I would not give you a grain more for the price, though you were to die of hunger." Meantime a dreadful malady was ravaging the land. An able physician came from a neighboring country, and pre- scribed with such success that he cured all his patieHts. When the plague ceased, he called for his fees, but was re- fused by one and all. There was nothing for it but to return to his own country, which he reached worn to a skeleton by the fatigues of a long journey. Soon after he 48 MONTESQUIEU'S heard that the same disease had broken out afresh among these thankless people, and with more virulence than be- fore. This time they did not wait for him, but sent to entreat his presence. "Begone," he cried, "unrighteous men ! In your souls there is a poison more deadly than that which you wish me to cure ; you are unworthy to live, I for you are inhuman monsters, unacquainted with the first principles of justice. I will not offend the gods who punish you by opposing their just wrath." Erzerotjm, the 3d of the second moOn of Gemmadi,* 1711. LETTER XII UsBEK TO THE Same, at Ispahan You have seen, my dear Mirza, how the Troglodites per- ished in their sins, the victims of their own unright- eousness. Only two families escaped the doom which befell the nation. In that country there lived two very remarkable men, humane, just, lovers of virtue. United by their upright- ness as much as by the corruption of their fellows, they regarded the general desolation with hearts from which pity expelled every other feeling; and their compassion united them in a new bond. Together they labored for their mutual benefit ; no dissensions arose between them except such as may spring from the tenderest friendship. In a secluded part of the country, far removed from those who were unworthy of their companionship, they led a calm and happy life. The earth, glad to be tilled by such virtuous hands, seemed to yield her fruits of her own accord. They loved their wives, and were beloved most tenderly. Their utmost care was given to the virtuous training of their children. They kept before their young minds the misfortunes of their countrymen, and held them up as a * Gemal-i^l-sani, the sixth month of the Persian year. ! PERSIAN LETTERS C 49 most melancholy example. Above all, they led them t6 see that the interest of the individual was bound up in that of the community ; that to' isolate oneself was to court ruin ; that the cost of virtue should never be counted, nor the practice of it regarded as troublesome ; and that in act ing justly by others, we bestow blessings on ourselves. They soon enjoyed the reward of ^l^tuous "parents, which consists in having children like themselves. Happy mar- riages increased the number of the young people who grew up under their guidance. Although the community in- creased, there was still but one interest ; and virtue, instead of losing its force in the crowd, grew stronger by reason of more numerous examples. It is impossible to depict the happiness of these Troglo- dites ! So upright a people could not faH . to be the special objects of divine j:arer They were taught ta reverence the gods with the first dawnin£_of intellect; and religion re- fined manners that nature had leftjuntutored. They established feasts in honor of the gods. Young men and maidens, decked with flowers, worshiped them with dances and rural minstrelsy. Banquets followed, in which they struck a happy mean between mirth and fru- gality. At these gatherings nature spoke its artless lan- guage ; there the young folks learned how to make love's bargain of hearts : trembling girls blushed to find on their lips a promise which the blessing of their parents soon ratified ; tender mothers delighted themselves in forecasting happy marriages. When they visited the temple it was not to ask of the gods wealth and overflowing plenty ; these fortunate Trog- lodites regarded such requests as unworthy of them ; if they made them at all, it was not for themselves, but for their countrymen. They approached the altar only to pray for the health of their parents, for the unity of their brethren, for the love of their wives, the affection and obe- dience of their children. Thither the maidens came to offer up the sweet sacrifice of their hearts, asking in return only the right to make a Troglodite happy. In the evening, when the flocks had left the fields, and the weary oxen had returned from plowing, these people 4 50 MONTESQUIEU'S met together. During a frugal meal they sang of the crimes of the first Troglodites, and their sad fate; of the revival of virtue with a new race, and of its happiness. Then they celebrated the greatness of the gods, abounding in mercy to those who seek them, and visiting with inevit- able judgments those who reverence them not. This would be followed by a description of the delights of a country life, and the happiness that springs from a .state of inno- cence. Soon after they retired to rest, and their slumbers were unbroken by care or anxiety. The provision of nature was sufficient for both their pleasures and their wants. A covetous man was unknown in this happy country. When they made presents, the giver always felt himself more blessed than the receiver. The whole race looked upon themselves as one single fam- ily ; their flocks were almost always intermixed, and the only trouble which they usually shirked was that of sepa- rating them. ErzBROUM, the 6th of the second moon of Gemmadi, 171 1. IvETTER XIII USBEK TO THE SaME I CANNOT say half I wish to about the virtue of the Trog- lodites. One of them once said, "To-morrow it is my father's turn to work in the fields ; I shall rise two hours before him, and when he comes to his work he will find it all done." Another said to himself, « I think my sister has taken a fancy for a young cousin of mine. I must talk to my father about it, and get him to arrange a marriage.** Another, being told that robbers had carried off his herd, replied, «I am very sorry, because it contained a white heifer which I meant to offer to the gods." * In Montesquieu's time it was not uncommon for parents of noble descent to compel their daughters to enter a convent in order that the eldest son might have greater means of display. PERSIAN LETTERS 51 One was heard telling another that he was bound for the temple to return thanks to Heaven for the recovery from sickness of his brother, who was so dear to his father, and whom he himself loved so much. This also was once said : "In a field adjoining my father's, the workers are all day long exposed to the heat of the sun. I shall plant some trees there that these poor folks may sometimes rest in their shade." On one occasion, in a company of Troglodites, an elderly man reproached a young one with the commission of an unworthy action. "We do not think him capable of such a deed," said the young men ; "but if he has been guilty, may he outlive all his family." A Troglodite having been told that strangers had robbed his house of all his goods, replied, " If they had not been unrighteous men, I would have prayed the gods to give them a longer use of them than I have had." Their unexampled prosperity was not regarded without envy. A neighboring nation gathered together, and on some paltry pretext determined to carry off their cattle. As soon as they heard of this, the Troglodites dispatched ambassa- dors, who addressed their enemies in the following terms : " What evil have the Troglodites done you ? Have they carried off your wives, stolen your cattle, or ravaged your lands? No; we are just men, and fear the gods. What, then, do you require of us ? Would you have wool to make clothes? Do you wish the milk of our cows, or the prod- ucts of our fields ? I,ay down j'^our arms, then ; come with us, and we will give you all j^ou demand. But we swear by all we hold most sacred, that if you enter our territories in enmity, we will regard you as dishonest men, and deal with you as we would with wild beasts." This speech was received with contempt ; and, believing that the Troglodites had no means of defense except their innocence, the barbarians invaded their territory in war- like array. But the Troglodites were well prepared to defend them- selves. They had placed their wives and children in their midst. Astonished they certainly were at the injustice of their enemies, but not dismayed by their number. Their 52 MONTESQUIEU'S hearts burned within them with an ardor before unknown. One longed to lay down his life for his father, another for his wife and children, this one for his brothers, that one for his friends, and all for each other. When one fell in the fight, he who immediately took his place, besides fight- ing for the common cause, had the death of his comrade to avenge. And so the battle raged between right and wrong. Those wretched creatures, whose sole aim was plunder, felt no shame when they were put to flight. They were forced to yield to the prowess of that virtue, whose worth they were unable to appreciate. Brzeroum, the 9th of the second moon of Gemtnadi, 171 1. LETTER XIV UsBBK TO THE Same A^ s THEIR numbers increased every day, the Troglodites thought it behooved them to elect a king. They judged it wise to confer the crown upon the justest man among them ; and their thoughts turned to one, ven- erable by reason of his age and his long career of virtue. He, however, had refused to attend the meeting, and with- drew to his house, oppressed with grief. When deputies were sent to him to announce his election, «The gods forbid," cried he, « that I should wrong the Troglodites by permitting them to believe that there is no man among them more just than I ! You offer me the crown; and if you insist upon it absolutely, I cannot but take it. Remember, however, that I shall die of sorrow, having known the Troglodites freemen, to behold them sub- jected to a ruler. » Having said this, he burst into a torrent of tears. « Unhappy day!" he exclaimed. « Why have I lived to see it?» Then he upbraided them. «I see, » he cried, « O Troglodites, what moves you to this ; uprightness becomes a burden to you. In your present condition, having no head, you are constrained in your PERSIAN LETTERS 53 own despite to be virtuous ; otherwise your very existence would be at stake, and you would relapse into the wretched state of your ancestors. But this seems to you too heavy a yoke ; you would rather become the subjects of a king, and submit to laws of his framing — laws less exacting than your present customs. You know that then you would be able to satisfy your ambition, and while away the time in slothful luxury ; and that, provided you avoided the graver crimes, there would be no necessity for virtue. " He ceased speaking for a little, and his tears fell faster than ever. " And what do you expect of me ? How can I lay commands upon a Troglodite? Would one act more nobly because I ordered him ? You forget that a Troglodite with^ out any command J^es_what. is right from natural inclinav tion? " O Troglodites, my days are nearlj' done, my blood is frozen in my veins, I shall soon join your blessed ances- tors ; why would. ypu,_have me carry them the sad jnewsj that you have submitted , to another Jaw than _that_ of 1 virtue ? " Brzerouu, the loth of the second moon of Gemmadi, 1711. I^ETTER XV* The first EtiNucH to Jaron, the bi,ack Eunuch, at Erzeroum MAY Heaven restore you to this country, and deliver you from all danger ! Although friendship is a bond almost unknown to me, and although I am wrapped up in myself, yet you have made me feel that I have a heart ; and while I was as a bronze statue to the rest of the slaves who lived under my rule, it was with pleasure that I watched your growth from infancy. The time came when my master threw his eyes on you. Nature had not yet whispered her secrets, when the knife * Letter XV. is the first of those added in the edition of 1754. 54 MONTESQUIEU'S separated you from her forever. I will not say whether I pitied you, or whether I was glad to see you brought into my own condition. I dried your tears and stilled your cries. I imagined that I saw you born again, issuing from a state of thraldom in which you would always have had to obey, to enter into a service in which you would exercise authority. I charged myself with your education. That severity, without which instruction is impossible, kept you long in ignorance of my love. You were dear to me, how- ever ; and I assure you that I loved you as a father loves his son, if the names of father and son can be applied to such as you and I. Since you are to travel in countries inhabited by unbe- lieving Christians, it is impossible that you should es- cape defilement. How shall the prophet look on you with favor in the midst of so many millions of his enemies? I hope my master, on his return, will perform the pilgrim- age to Mecca : you would be purified in that blessed place. Thb Seraglio at Ispahan, the loth of the second moon of Gemmadi, 1711. LETTER XVI USBEK TO THE Moi,I,AH MBHEMET Aw, GuARDIAN OF The Three Tombs* at Koum WHY, divine Mollah, do you live in the tombs? You are better fitted to dwell among the stars. Doubt- less you hide yourself lest you should eclipse the sun : unlike the day-star you have no spots ; but you resemble him in your cloudy concealment. Your knowledge is more abysmal than the ocean ; your intellect, keener than Zufagar,t the twin-pointed sword of *The three tombs are those of Fatima and two votaries of her family. (See p. 31, Note.) + Zufagar, or Zoulf egar, the name of a double-bladed sword given by Mohammed to Ali. It was treasured for many years in the palace of the califs, until one of the successors of AbdouUah II. broke it by accident while hunting. A representation of this sword still appears on the flag of the Turkish navy. PERSIAN LETTERS 55 Hali. You know the secrets of the nine orders of celestial powers ; you read the Koran on the breast of our holy Prophet, and when you come to an obscure passage, an angel, by his order, spreads his rapid wings, and descends from the throne to reveal to you its meaning. I may, with your help, conduct a private correspondence with the seraphim ; for, in short, O thirteenth Iman,* are you not the centre where earth and heaven meet, the point of communication between the abyss and the empyrean? In the midst of a profane people, permit me to purify myself through you. Suffer me to turn my face toward the holy place in which you dwell ; mark me off from ainong the wicked, as one distinguishes night from day ; f aid me with your counsels ; be my soul's gxiardian ; feed me with divine knowledge ; and let me humbly expose to you the wounds of my spirit. Address your inspired letters to Erzeroum, where I shall stay for a month or two. ErzBROUM, the nth of the second moon of Gemmadi, 171 1. I^ETTER XVII UsBBK TO THE Same 1AM powerless, divine Mollah, to calm my impatience ; I do not know how I am to wait for your sublime answer. I have doubts, which must be resolved^. I feel that my reason has gone astray ; restore it to the right path. Illumine"my darkness, O^ource of ligh t ! Annihilate with the lightning of your divine pen the difficulties I am about to propose to you ; enable me to commiserate myself, make me ashamed of the questions I ask you. •The first twelve successors of Mohammed were the Imans, or holy men. To address any one as the "thirteenth Iman» is, therefore, a high comphment. tin the original, "as one distinguishes at daybreak the white thread from the black.» According to the Mussulmans, day begins when there is light enough to make this distinction. S6 MONTESQUIEU'S Whence comes it that our lawgiver forbids the use of swine's flesh, and of all those meats which he denominates unclean? Why are we forbidden to touch a corpse, and why for the purification of our souls is this endless wash- ing of the body ordained? T o me it seems that things in themse lves are n eitli£r-.clearL-a or unclean : I can conceive oT^o inherent quality which makes them the one or the other. The filthiness of filth consists in its offending our sight or some other sense ; but in itself it is no dirtier than gold or diamonds. The idea of uncleanness, resulting from contact with a dead body, proceeds from a natural repugnance with which it fills us. If the bodies of those who do not wash offended neither the smell nor the sight, how could we tell that they were unclean ? Should not, (therefore, the senses. divine _Mollah... be the only~jndgps of what is clean or unclgan ? Yet,^since the same objects do not affect all men alike, that which is agreeable, to one producing disgust in another, it follows that , tliejSOt- ness" of the" senses is no sure guide in this matter, unless we are permitted to decide the point, .each accor ding to h is fancy, and to separate for our own behoof things that are clean from those that are not. But would not this, reverend Mollah, confound the dis- tinctions established by our. holy Prophet, and overturn the foun~dati6ns of that law which was written by angelic hands ? Erzbroum, the 2ot.h of the second moon of Gemmadi, 1711. IvETTER XVIII Moi,i at once a tract of several leagues as if from every point of view, who is not possessed of that presence of mind which in victory leaves no advantage unimproved, and in defeat employs every resource, will never acquire such capacity. Therefore we employ in brilliant .services tho.se great, those sublime men, on whom Heaven has bestowed not only the courage, but the genius of the hero; and in inferior services those whose talents are inferior. Of, this number are such as have grown old in obscure warfare ; they can succeed only at what they have been doing all their lives ; and it would 104 MONTESQUIEU'S be ill-advised to start them on fresh employment when age has weakened their powers." A moment after, curiosity again seized me, and I said, " I promise not to ask another question if you will only answer this one. Who is that tall young man who wears his own hair, and has more impertinence that- wit ? How comes it that he speaks louder than the others, and is so charmed with himself for being in the world?" "That is a great lady-killer," he replied. With these words some people entered, others left, and all rose. Some one came to speak to my acquaintance, and I remained in my igno- rance. But shortly after, I know not by what chance, the young man in question found himself beside me, and began to talk. "It is fine weather," he said. "Will you take a turn with me in the garden?" I replied as civilly as I could, and we went out together. "I have come to the country," said he, "to please the mistress of the house, with whom I am not on the worst of terms. There is a certain woman in the world who will be rather out of humor ; but what can one do ? I visit the finest women in Paris ; bttt I do not confine my attentions to one ; they have plenty to do to look after me, for, between you and me, I am a sad dog." "In that case, sir," said I, "you doubt- less have some office or employment which prevents you from waiting on them more assiduously?" "No, sir; I have no other business than to provoke husbands, and drive fathers to despair ; I delight in alarming a woman who thinks me hers, and in bringing her within an ace of losing me. A set of us young fellows divide up Paris among us in this pursuit, and keep it wondering at every- thing we do." "From what I understand," said I, "you make more stir than the most valorous warrior, and are more regarded than a grave magistrate. If you were^in Persia, you would not enjoy all these advantages ; you would~be nelff^frtter-^fTjaiaJPl- oux„ women— tha4i--ta_^ease them. " The blood mounted to my face ; and I believe, had I gone on speaking, I could not have refrained from kffronting him. I What say you to a country where such people are tol- rated, and where a man who follows such a profession is If PERSIAN LETTERS 105 allowed to live? Where faithlessness, treachery, rape, de- ceit, and injustice lead to distinction? Where a man is es teemed because he has bereaved a father of his daughter ,li( ' a husband of his wife, and distresses the happiest and pur- est homes? Happy the children of Hali who protect their families from outrage and seduction ! Heaven's light is not purer than the fire that burns in the hearts of our wives ; our daughters think only with dread of the day when they will be deprived of that purity, in virtue of which they rank with the angels and the spiritual powers. My beloved land, on which the morning sun looks first, thou art unsoiled by those horrible crimes which compel that star to hide his beams as he approaches the dark West! Paris, the 5th of the moon of Rhamazan, 1713. LETTER XLIX v Rica to Usbek, at * * * As I WAS in my room the other day, there came to me a dervish amazingly dressed. His beard descended to his rope girdle ; his feet were naked ; his gown gray, coarse and peaked in places. The whole appeared to me so odd that my first idea was to send for a painter to make a sketch of it. First of all he paid me a prolonged compliment, in which he informed me that he was a man of merit, and^a Capu- chin to boot. "They tell me, sir," continued he, "that you return soon to the court of Persia, where you hold high rank. I have come to ask your protection, and to beg you to obtain for us from the king a small establish- ment in the neighborhood of Casbin for two or three friars." "Father," said I, "do you then wish to go to Persia?" "Me, sir," cried he ; "I shall take better care of myself. I am Provincial here, and I would not exchange my place for that of all the Capuchins in the world." io6 MONTESQUIEU'S " Then why the devil do you make this request ? " " Be- cause," said he, "if we had this monastery, our Italian fathers would send out two or three friars. " " You know those friars, of course," said I. "No, sir, I do not." " 'Sdeath ! " cried I, " of what consequence is it to you that they should go to Persia then ? A charming project, in- deed, to send two Capuchins to take the air in Casbin ! How useful that will be to Europe and to Asia ! and how important it is to interest monarchs in it ! So, this is what is meant by your admirable colonies ! Begone ; you and your fellows were not made to be transplanted ; and you had best continue to crawl about the places in which you were engendered." Paris, the 15th of the moon of Khamazan, 1713. LETTER h Rica to * * * 1HAVB met some people to whom virtue was so natural that they were not even conscious of it ; they applied themselves to their duty without any compulsion, and were led to it instinctively ; far from making their own ad- ( I mirable qualities a subject of conversation, it seemed as if , i they were quite ignorant of their existence. Such people \ I love ; not those men who seem to be astonished at their 1 own virtue, and who look upon a good deed as a marvel the relation of which should excite wonder. If modesty is a necessary virtue in those to whom Heaven has given great talents, what is to be said of those insects who dare to exhibit a pride which would dishonor the greatest men? Ori every hand I meet people who talk constantly about themselves; their conversation is a mirror which reflects janljr their impertinent faces ; they will tell you of the merest trifles that happen to them, and expect the interest they take in them to magnify their importance in your eyes; they have done everything, seen everything, said PERSIAN LETTERS 107 everything, thought everything ; they are a pattern to all mankind, a subject of inexhaustible comparisons, a source of precedents which never dries up. Oh ! how in- sipid is self-praise ! Some days ago a man of this type worried us for two hours, about himself, his worth, his talents ; but, since there is no such thing as perpetual motion, he had to cease. It was then our turn to talk, and we took it. A man, who seemed sufficiently splenetic, commenced to grumble at the tediousness of conversation. " What ! are there none but fools, who describe their own character, and bring everything home to themselves?" "You are right," replied our tattling friend, abruptly. " Nobody does as I do ; I never praise myself ; I have means, am well-born, spend freely, and my friends say that I have some wit ; but I never talk of all that; if I have any good qualities, that which I set most store by, is my modesty." I wondered at this malapert ; and while he was talking very loud, I whispered, " Happy is he who has enough of vanity never to boast of his own qualities, who dreads the ridicule of his audience, and never hurts the pride of others by exalting himself ! " Paris, the 20tli of the moon of Rhamazan, 1713. I^ETTER I.I Nargum, Pbrsian K^PVOY in Muscovy, to Usbek, at Paris THE news has come from Ispahan, that you have left Persia, and are actually in Paris. Why was I left to learn these tidings from another than yourself? By order of the king of kings I have now been five years in this country, where I have concluded several im- portant transactions. {/You know that the Czar is the only Christian prince^ whose interests are allied to those of Persia, because, like us, he is the enemy of the Turks. loS MONTESQUIEU'S His empire is larger than ours, for the distance between Moscow and the extremities of his dominions on the Chi- nese frontier measures a thousand leagues. He is absolute master of the lives and goods of his sub- jects, who are all slaves, with the exception of four fam- ilies. The vicar of the prophets, the king of kings, whose footstool is the sky, does not wield a scepter more puis- sant. In view of the frightful climate of this country, one would never think that exile could be a punishment for a Muscovite : nevertheless, when a man of consequence is disgraced, he is banished to Siberia. It is the law of our prophet which forbids us to drink wine, it is that of their prince which forbids the Musco- vites. They receive their guests in a style very unlike the Per- sians. When a stranger enters a house, the husband presents his wife to him, and he kisses her : this is counted an act of courtesy to the husband. Although fathers, in arranging their daughters' marriages, usually stipulate that the husband shall not whip them, yet you would hardly believe how dearly the Muscovite women like to be beaten ; * they are unable to understand how they can possess their husband's love, if he does not thrash them in proper style. If he is slack in this matter, it is an unpar- donable indication of coldness. Here is a letter which a Muscovite wife recently wrote to her mother : — " My Dear Mother, — I am the most wretched woman in the world. I have left nothing undone to make my husband love me, and I have never been able to succeed. Yesterday, having a thousand things to attend to in the house, I went out and stayed away all day. I expected on my return that he would beat me severely, but he did not say a single word. My sister fares much better ; her hus- band beats her every day ; he knocks her down at once if she only looks at a man : they are very affectionate, and there is between them the best understanding in the world. * These manners have changed. — (M.) PERSIAN LETTERS 109 " It is that which makes her so proud, but I will not allow her to triumph over me any longer. I am resolved to make my husband love me, whatever it may cost : I will so anger him that he will be forced to give me marks of his afEection. No one shall say that I am not beaten, and that I am of no consequence in my own house. I will cry out with all my might at the least touch, so that people may think that all goes well ; and if any of my neighbors should come to my aid, I feel as if I would strangle them. I wish, my dear mother, you would point out to my husband how unworthily he treats me. My father is a gentleman, and behaved differently ; indeed, if I remember rightly, when I was a little girl he used to love you too much. I embrace you, my dear mother." The Muscovites may not leave their country, even in order to travel ; and so, separated from other nations by the law of the land, they have become attached to their ancient customs, all the more warmly, that they do not think it possible to have others. But the reigning prince* wishes to change everything; he had a great quarrel with his subjects about their beards ; the clergy and the monks defended their ignorance with equal obstinacy. He is bent on the improvement of the arts, and leaves nothing undone to spread throughout Europe and Asia the fame of his nation, till now forgotten, and hardly even known to itself. Restless, and always occupied, he wanders about his vast dominions, leaving everywhere tokens of his savage nature. Then he quits them, as if they were too small to con- tain him, and goes to Europe exploring other provinces and new kingdoms. I embrace you, my dear Usbek, and beg you to send me your news. Moscow, the 2d of the moon of Chalval, 1713. * Peter the Great. no MONTESQUIEU'S I^ETTER I.II Rica to Usbek, at * * * I WAS much amxtsed in a certain house the other day. There were present women of all ages ; one of eighty years, one of sixty, and one of forty ; the last had with her a niece of from twenty to twenty-two. Instinct led me to choose the company of the youngest. She whis- pered to me, * What do you think of my aunt ? Old as she is, she still tries to pass for a beauty, and wishes to have lovers. " " She is wrong, " said I ; " such an intention is becoming only in you." A moment after, I found myself beside her aunt, who said to me, " What do think of that woman ? Although she is at least sixty years old she has spent hours to-day over her toilet." " It was a waste of time," said I, "which only such charms as yours could have excused." I crossed over to the unfortunate dame of threescore, and was pitying her in my heart, when she whispered to me, " Did you ever see anything so ridiculous ? Fancy a woman of eighty wearing flame-colored ribbons ! She would like to be young, and she succeeds, for that is childish." " Good Heavens ! " I exclaimed to myself ; " must we be forever blind to our own folly? Perhaps, after all," I ar- gued, "it is a blessing that we should find consolation in the absurdities of others." However, I was bent on being amused, and I said, still to myself, "This is surely high enough ; let us descend, beginning at the summit. " So I ad- dressed the lady of fourscore. "Madam," I said, "you are so wonderfully like that lady, whom I have just left to speak to you, that I am certain you must be sisters — I should say about the same age." "Indeed sir," she rejoined, "when one of us dies, the other will not have long to live; I do not believe there is two days' difference between us. " Hav- ing left my decrepit dame, I went again to her of sixty. " Madam, you must decide a bet I have made. I have wagered that you and that lady," indicating her of forty, "are of the same age." " Well," said she, "I believe there PERSIAN LETTERS iii is not six months' difference. " Good, so far ; let us get on. Still descending, I returned to the lady of forty. " Madam, have the goodness to tell me if you were jesting when you called that young lady at the other table, your niece. You are as young as she ; there is even a touch of age in her face, which you certainly have not ; and the brilliancy of your complexion . . ." "Listen," she said; "I am her aunt ; but her mother was at least twenty-five years older than me. We are not even children of the same marriage ; I have heard my departed sister say that her daughter and I were born in the same year. " " I was right, then, ma- dam, and you cannot blame me for being astonished. * My dear Usbek, women who feel that the loss of their charms is aging them before their time, long ardently to be young again ; and why should we blame them for deceiving others, since they take such trouble to deceive them- selves, and to dispossess their minds of the most painful of all thoughts? Paris, the 3d of the moon of Chalval, 1713. IvETTER I.III Zews to Usbek, at Paris No PASSION was ever stronger or more vehement than that of Cosrou, the white eunuch, for my slave Ze- lida ; he has asked her in marriage with such per- sistence, that I can no longer refuse him. And why should I object, when her mother does not, and since Zelida her- self seems satisfied with the idea of this mock union, and the empty shadow which it offers her? "What does she want with this wretched creature? She is marrying jealousy personified, a husband who is no hus- band; who will only exchange his coldness for an impotent despair ; who, by perpetually recalling the memory of what he was, will but remind her of what he no longer is ; who, always ready to possess, but never possessing, will forever 112 MONTESQUIEU'S deceive himself and her, keeping her constantly alive to the wretchedness of her condition. And then ! to be always in dreams and fancies ; to live only in imagination ; to be always on the threshold, and never in the abode, of pleasure ; languishing in the arms of impotence, responding, not to happy sighs, but to vain regrets ! How one ought to despise a man of that kind, made only to guard and not to own ! I seek love, and cannot find it ! I speak to you freely, because you love my artlessness, and prefer my frankness and amorous disposition to the affected modesty of my companions. I have heard you say a thousand times that eunuchs do enjoy a certain pleasure with women, which we know nothing of ; that nature compensates them for their loss, having means with which to amend their unfortunate con- dition ; that one may cease to be a man, but not to feel desire ; and that in that state one acquires a third sense, and exchanges, as it were, one pleasure for another. If that be so, Zelida will have less to complain of. It is something to live with people who are not, after all, so miserable. Send me your instructions in the matter, and let me know if you wish the marriage to take place in the seraglio. Farewell. The Seragwo at Ispahan, the 5th of tlie moon of Chalval, 1713. LETTER LIV Rica to Usbek, at * * x^ w Y ROOM is, as you know, separated from the others only by a slim partition, which is broken here and there, so that one can hear what is said next door. This morning I overheard a man, pacing rapidly up and down, and saying to another, *I don't know how it is, but every- thing seems to go against me. For more than three days I have said nothing which can do me honor ; and I find myself entirely lost among the crowd of talkers ; no one PERSIAN LETTERS 113 pays the least attention to me, no one speaks to me twice. I had prepared some brilliant passages to lighten my con- versation; not once was I allowed to get them off. I had a charming story to tell ; but always when I found an op- portunity for it, people evaded it, as if on purpose. I have nursed some witticisms in my head for four days without being able to make the least use of them. If this continues, it will end in my becoming a fool ; I cannot avoid it ; it seems to be my fate. Yesterday I had hoped to shine in the company of four old ladies, who certainly had no idea of imposing on me. I had some of the most charming things to say imaginable; but it took me more than a quarter of an hour to bring the conversation round, and even then they failed to follow me ; like the fatal sisters, they cut the thread of my discourse. Shall I tell you? It is most difficult to support the character of a man of wit. I fail to comprehend how you obtained it." "I have an idea," replied the other. "I,et us help each other to gain this reputation : suppose we form a partner- ship for the purpose. Every day we shall tell each other what we intend to say ; and we shall help each other so well, that if any one attempts to interrupt the flow of our ideas, we shall inspire him with admiration ; and if he re- fuses to be fascinated, then he will be coerced. We shall have the points fixed at which to approve ; and where to smile, and where to burst out into a roar of laughter, will all be arranged beforehand. You will see that we shall give the tone to conversation, and that everybody will ad- mire the nimbleness of our wit, and the felicity of our repartees ; and we shall have a code of head shakes for our mutual protection. To-day you will shine, to-morrow you will be my foil. We shall go together to a house, and I shall exclaim, indicating you, *I must tell you the delight- ful reply my friend made just now to a man we met in the street.' I shall then turn toward you and say, *He did not expect this. You see how astonished he is.' I shall repeat some of my verses, and you will say, *I was present when he made them ; at a supper, it was ; he turned them off in an instant.' Sometimes we shall rally each other, and then people will exclaim, 'Look, how they 8 1 14 MONTESQUIEU'S attack each other, how they defend themselves ; this is no child's play ; let us see how he will come out of that. Wonderful, what presence of mind ! Why, this is a down- right battle ! ' But no one will dream how we practiced it all beforehand. We shall have to buy certain books, re- positories of wit composed for the use of those who, having none, would fain appear as if they had : all depends on the pattern. I should say, that before six months are out we should be able to keep up a conversation of an hour's length, entirely consisting of bons-mots. But we shall have to be very careful of one thing, and that is, the fate of our witticisms : it is not enough to make a brilliant remark, it must be sown broadcast ; without that, it is as good as lost ; and I confess there is nothing so heartrending as to see a smart thing that one has said die in the ear of the fool who hears it. • For misfortunes of that kind we have often, it is true, a sort of compensation in the speedy oblivion which overtakes the foolish things we say. Here, my dear sir, is the part we must play. Do as I have suggested, and I promise you, before six months, a place in the Academy. You see the time of toil will not be long ; and then you can abandon your art as soon as you like ; but you will always be a man of wit, no matter what you do. They say, that in France, when a man enters any circle of society, he catches at once what is called l' esprit du corps : this you will do, and the only thing I dread is, that you will be overwhelmed with applause." Paris, the 6tli of the moon of Zilcade, 1714. IvFTTER I.V Rica to Ibben, at Smyrna AMONG the Europeans, the first quarter of an hour of marriage settles all difficulties; the last favors are always contemporary with the marriage blessing. The women here are not like those of Persia, who sometimes dispute the ground for months together. They give them- PERSIAN LETTERS 115 selves at once ; and if they lose nothing, it is because they have nothing to lose. One shameful result of this is, that one can always tell the moment of their defeat ; and, with- out consulting the stars, it is possible to predict to the very hour the birth of their children. TJlie__Fr^ich seldom speak of their wives : * they are afraid to^o-so "Before p£opIe~wEQ"~"may know them better than— th&mselwes. There are, among the French, a set of most miserable men, whom nobody comforts — jealous husbands, to wit ; there are among them those whom everybody hates — namely, jealous husbands ; there are men whom the whole world despises — once more, jealous husbands. And so, there is no country where there are so few of them as in France, Their peace of mind is not based upon the confidence which they have in their wives ; but on the bad opinion which they have of them. All the wise precautions of the Asiatics ; the veils which cover them, the prisons in which they are kept, the eunuchs who guard them, seem to the French only so many obstacles better fitted to exercise than to tire the ingenuity of women. Here, husbands ac- cept their lot with a good grace, and the infidelities of their wives seem to them as inevitable as fate. A husband, who would wish to monopolize his wife, would be looked upon as a disturber of the pleasure of the public, as a lunatic who wanted to enjoy the light of the sun to the exclusion of everybody else.. Hexe_JL.husband who loves Jiis^wife is a ma^ has n(^_e.nqugh merit .tO-^engage the, affections of some other woman r-^P makes a bad use of the power given him by the law to supply those pleasures which he can obtain in no other way ; who claims all his rights to the prejudice of the whole community ; who appropriates to his own use that which he only holds in pawn ; and who tries, as far as he can, to overturn the tacit agreement, in which the happiness of both sexes consists. The fame, so little de- sired in Asia, of being married to a beautiful woman, is * It was a rule of good society. « Most men understand that they should say very little about their wives ; but few know that they should talk still less about themselves. »— La Rochefoucaui,d. ii6 MONTESQUIEU'S here the source of no uneasiness. No one has ever to seek far for entertainment. A prince consoles himself for the loss of one place by taking another^ when Bagdad fell to the Turks, were we not taking from the Mogul the fortress of Candahar? Generally speaking, a man who winks at his wife's infi- delities, does not lose respect ; on the contrary, he is praised for his prudence : dishonor only attaches to special cases. Not that there are no virtuous women ; there are, and they may be said to be distinguished too. My conductor always took care to point them out ; but they were all so ugly that one would require to be a saint not to hate virtue. After what I have told you of the morals and manners of this country, you will easily imagine that the French do not altogether plume themselves upon their constancy. They believe that it is as ridiculous to swear eternal love to a woman, as to insist that one will always be in the best of health, or always as happy as the day is long. When they promise a woman to love her all their lives, they suppose that she on her side undertakes to be always lovable ; and if she breaks her word, they think that they are no longer bound by theirs. Paris, the 7th of the moon of Zilcade, 1714. LETTER LVI USBEK TO IbBEN, at SMYRNA / •'NAMING is very common in Europe. To be a gamester •^-Ij is to have a position in society, although one is I neither well-born, wealthy, nor a man of integ- J rity: it entitles one, without any inquiry, to rank as a gentleman. All know that it is often a most untrustworthy credential, but people have made up their minds to be de- ceived. \ Above all, the women follow it. It is true that the at- tractions of a dearer passion prevent them from giving it PERSIAN LETTERS 117 much attention in their youth ; but as they grow old, their love of gaming seems to grow young, and when all others are decayed, that passion fills up the void. Their desire is to ruin their husbands ; and for that pur- pose they have means suitable to all ages, from the ten- derest youth to the most decrepit age ; dress and luxury begin the disorder, which gallantry increases, and gaming completes. I have often seen nine or ten women, or rather, nine or ten centuries, seated round a table ; I have watched them hoping, fearing, rejoicing — above all, in their transports of anger : you would have said that they would never grow calm again, and that life would leave them before their despair ; you would have been in doubt whether they were paying their creditors or their legatees. It seems to have been the chief aim of our holy Prophet to restrain us from everything that might disturb the rea- son : he has prohibited the use of wine, which steals away man's brains ; by a special law he has forbidden games of chance ; and where the cause of passion could not be removed he has subdued it. I,ove among us brings with it no trouble, no frenzy : it is a languid passion which leaves our souls serene : plurality of wives saves us from the dominion of women, and tempers the violence of our desires. Paris, the loth of the moon of Zilhage, 17 14. LETTER IvVII USBEK TO RhEDI, at VENICS AN IMMENSE number of courtesans are maintained by the libertines of Paris, and a great crowd of dervishes by its bigots. These dervishes take three oaths : of [obedience, of poverty, and of chastity. They say that the first is the best observed of the three; as to the second, it lis not observed at all ; you can form your own opinion ^with regard to the third. ii8 MONTESQUIEU'S But whatever the wealth of these dervishes may be, they always profess poverty, just as our glorious Sultan would never dream of renouncing his magnificence and sublimity ; and they are right, for their reputation as paupers prevents ;lhem from being poor. The physicians and some of these dervishes, called con- ■fessors, are always either highly esteemed, or treated with contumely : yet it is said that heirs, on the whole, prefer physicians to confessors. The other day, I visited a convent of dervishes. One of them, whose white hair made him venerable, received me very courteously. He showed me over the whole house, and then we went into the garden, and had some talk. * Father," said I, "what is your employment in the com- munity ? " "Sir," replied he, evidently well pleased with my question, "I am a casuist." "A casuist," e:^claimed I. "During my stay in France I have not heard of this pro- fession till now. " " What ! You do not know what a cas- uist is ? Very well, listen ; I will give you an explanation which will leave nothing to be desired. ^There are two de- scriptions of sin : that called mortal, which excludes the sinner forever from Paradise ; and venial sin, which cer- tainly offends God, but does not excite Him to that pitch of wrath which can be satisfied only by depriving the sin- ner of felicity. Now, all our art consists in carefully dis- tinguishing these two descriptions of sin ; for, with the Exception of some libertines, all Christians wish to go to ^Tieaven; but there is hardly one among them who would I not , prefer to get- there at as cheap a rate as possible. When they thoroughly understand which sins are mortal, they try not to commit them ; and their business is done. There are some who do not aspire to such a high degree of perfection ; and, having no ambition, they do not care for the first places : accordingly they would enter Paradise as easily as possible ; provided they get there, they are sat- isfied : that is their aim, neither more nor less. There are people who would take heaven by storm rather than not obtain it, and who would say to God, *I were to make to themselves gods, they would give them three sides. My dear Usbek, when I behold men, mere crawlers on this atom, the earth, which is but a point in the universe, proposing themselves as exact models for Providence, I know not how to harmonize such extravagance with such littleness. Paris, the 14th of the moon of Saphar, 1714. I.KTTER I.X Usbek to Ibbsn, at Smyrna You ask me if there are Jews in France. Know that wherever there is money, there are Jews. You ask me what they do. Kxactly what they do in Persia : nothing is liker an Asiatic Jew than a European one. They exhibit among the Christians, as among ourselves, an invincible attachment to their religion, amounting to folly. The Jewish religion is like the trunk of an old tree which has produced two branches that cover the whole earth — I mean Mohammedanism and Christianity : or rather, she is the mother of two daughters that have loaded her with a thousand bruises;* for, in religious matters, the nearest relations are the bitterest foes. But however badly her daughters have treated her, she ceases not to glory in having brought them forth : she has made use of both of * Voltaire, in his article on the Jews in the "Philosophical Dic- tionary,* has reproduced this idea of Montesquieu's -without acknowl- edging it. PERSIAN LETTERS 123 them to encircle the whole earth, just as her venerable age embraces all time. The Jews therefore regard themselves as the fountain of all holiness, the source of all religion : us they look upon as heretics who have changed the law, or rather as rebel Jews. If the change had been made gradually, they imagine that they might have been easily led away ; but as it took place suddenly, and with violence, and as they can mark the day and the hour of the birth of both daughters, they mock at religions that have had beginnings, and cling to one that is older than the world itself. They have never been freer from molestation in Kurope than they are now. Christians are beginning to lose the spirit of intolerance which animated them : experience has shown the error of the expulsion of the Jews from Spain, and of the persecution of those Christians in France whose belief differed a little from that of the king. They have realized that zeal for the advancement of religion is differ- ent from a due attachment to it ; and that in order to love it and fulfill its.„ behests^ it is -not- necessary to hate and persecute those who- are opposed to it. It is much to be desired that our Mussulmans regarded this matter as rationally as the Christians, and that peace were established in all good faith between Hali and Abu- beker,* leaving God to decide the merits of these holy prophets. I would nave them honored by acts of venera- tion and respect, and not by foolish preferences. Let us seek to merit their favor, whatever place God has given them ; whether it be at His right hand, or beneath the footstool of His throne. Paris, the i8th of the moon of Saphar, 1714. *Abu Bekr, father-in-law of Mohammed, was proclaimed Caliph on the death of the prophet, in 632. According to the Persians, this nomination was a usurpation of the rights of Ali, the cousin and son- in-law of Mohammed. (See Note, p. 36.) 124 MONTESQUIEU'S I^ETTKR LXI Usbe;k to Rhbdi, at Vbnicb I WENT the other day into a famous church called Notre Dame. While I was admiring this magnificent building I had an opportunity of conversing with an ecclesiastic, led there, like myself, by curiosity. . The conversation turned upon the peaceful life enjoyed by those of his profession. " Most people," said he, * envy the happiness of our condi- tion, and they are right. However, it has its disadvan- tages : although we are in a measure separated from the world, yet a thousand things require our presence in it ; and in this way we have a very difl&cult part to fill. " Worldly people are truly astonishing : they can endure neither our praise nor our blame : if we desire to admonish them, they think us ridiculous ; if to commend them, they re- gard us as undignified. Nothing can be more humiliating than the thought that one has offended even the wicked. We are therefore compelled to adopt an ambiguous method, and to influence libertines, not by a direct appeal, but by the un- certainty in which our manner of receiving their remarks leaves them. This requires abundance of talent, it is so difficult to maintain a neutral attitude : men of the world who risk everything, who give themselves up to all their fancies, dropping them or pursuing them, according to their felicity, succeed much better. "This is not all. ^We cannot preserve in thejworid^ that liaBpy,P£aceful state "which IF'so loudIy"4jraised. As soon as we appear there,' we afe~Torced into argument : for ex- ample, we have to undertake to prove to a man who does not-believe~in_JGedT-the-Tefficacy of prayer j of the necessity otjasting;_to_a5other jyho all hisiife has denied the im- mortality of the soul : the task is heavy, and the laughter ~is not on our^side. Besides this, a desire to convert others to our own opinions, which belongs, as it were, to our '. profession, torments us endlessly ; and is as ridiculous as if I Europeans, anxious to improve human nature, were to try Ito change the Ethiopian's skin. We disturb the state, and PERSIAN LETTERS 125 torment ourselves to enforce points of religion which are not fundamental : we are like that conqueror of China, who j drove his subjects to a general revolt, by insisting that they should cut their hair or their nails. " The zeal which we have to secure the fulfillment of the duties of our holy religion on the part of those over whom we are placed, is often dangerous, and cannot be accompanied by too much prudence. An emperor, called Theodosius, put to the sword all the inhabitants of a certain town, even to the women and children. Immediately afterward, as he was about to enter a church, a bishop, Ambrose by name, shut the doors against him as a sacrilegious mur- derer : in doing so he performed an heroic action. This emperor, having shortly done the penance which such a crime required, and being admitted into the church, the same bishop made him come from among the priests with whom he had seated himself : that was the action of a fa- natic. Thus you see how true it is, that one should not be over-zealous. Of what importance was it to religion or to the state, whether this prince had, or had not, a place among the priests?" Paris, the ist of the first moon of Rebiab, 1714. I.ETTER IvXII Zelis to Usbek, at Paris YOUR daughter having attained her seventh year, I have judged it time to remove her to the inner apartments of the seraglio, and not to wait till she should be ten to intrust her to the care of the black eunuchs. It is impossible to deprive a young girl too soon of the liberty of childhood, and to give her a holy upbringing within those walls sacred to modesty. For I am not of the opinion of those mothers who only sequester their daughters when they are about to bestow them in marriage, who sentence, rather than consecrate 126 MONTESQUIEU'S them, to the seraglio, and force them to embrace a manner of life which they ought to have taught them to love. Must we expect everything from the compulsion of reason, and leave nothing to the gentle influences of habit? We are in vain told of the state of subjection in which nature has placed us. It is not enough to make us realize this ; we must be made to practice submission, in order that we may be upheld at that critical time when the pas- sions begin to awaken, and that we may learn voluntary subordination. Were we only attached to you by duty, we miglrt some- times forget it ; or if it were inclination alone that bound us, a more potent feeling might perhaps weaken it. But, when the laws bestow us on one man they withdraw us from all others, and place us as far from them as if a hundred thousand leagues intervened. Nature, diligent in the service of men, has been no nig- gard in her dowry of desire ; to women also she has not been unkind, and has destined us to be the living instru- ments of the enjoyment of our masters ; she has set us on fire with passion in order that they may live at ease ; should they quit their insensibility, she has provided us to restore them to it, without our ever being able to taste the happiness of the condition into which we put them. Yet, Usbek, do not think that your situation is happier than mine ; I have experienced here a thousand pleasures unknown to you. My imagination has labored without ceasing to make me conscious of their worth ; I have lived, and you have only languished. Even in this prison where you keep me I am freer than you. You can only redouble your care in guarding me, that I may rejoice at your uneasiness ; and your suspicions, your jealousy, your annoyance, are so many marks of your dependence. Continue, dear Usbek, to have me watched night and day ; take no ordinary precautions ; increase my happiness in assuring your own ; and know, that I dread nothing ex- cept your indifference. The Seraglio at Ispahan, the ad of the first moon of Rebiab, 1714. PERSIAN LETTERS 127 I^ETTKR I.XIII Rica to Usbbk, at * * * Do YOU mean to spend your whole life in the country? At first I was to lose you only for a day or two, but now fifteen have passed since I last saw you. I know that you are living in a delightful house where the company suits you, where you can speculate at your ease: nothing more is required to make you forget the whole universe. For myself, my life moves on pretty much as it did when we were together. I go into society and try to understand it; my thought loses gradually all that remained of its Asiatic cast, and conforms without effort to European manners. I am no longer amazed to find in one house > half a dozen women with as many men ; indeed, I begin to think it not altogether a bad idea. This I will say: I knew nothing of women until I came here; I have learned more about them in one month of Paris, than I could have done in thirty years of a seraglio. With us, character is uniform, because it is constrained ; we do'^not^'see people as they are, but as" they are obliged < to be; in "that slavery of heart and mind, it is only fear 2that._u tt^s.II!a~^ull--roa.tiii&- of words, -very -different from the language of nature which expresses itself so va- riously. Dissimulation, that art so practiced and so necessary with us, is here unknown; they say everything, see everything, and hear everything; hearts are as open as faces; in manners, in virtue, even in vice, one detects always a cer- tain artlessness. In order to gratify women a talent is necessary different from that other gift which pleases them still more ; it con- sists in a sort of playfulness of mind, which entertains them, as it seems to promise them every moment what one cannot perform except occasionally. 128 MONTESQUIEU'S This gayety of mind naturally adapted to the dressing- room * seems to be forming the general character of the nation : they trifle in council, at the head of an army, with an ambassador. Professions appear ridiculous only in pro- portion to the professional gravity adopted : a doctor would be less absurd if his dress were more cheerful, and if, while killing his patients, he jested pleasantly. Paris, the loth of the first moon of Rebiab, 1714. I^ETTER LXIV The Chibf of the black Eunuchs to Usbek, at Paris I CANNOT tell you, magnificent lord, how deeply perplexed I am. Appaling disorder and confusion prevail in the seraglio : war reigns among your wives ; your eunuchs are divided ; nothing is heard but murmurs, complaints, reproaches ; my remonstrances are despised : everything seems to be permitted in this time of license, and I am nothing but a name in the seraglio. There is not one of your wives who does not deem her- self superior to the others by her birth, her beauty, her wealth, her intellect, or her love ; and who does not claim every preference on the score of the value she sets upon one or other of these titles to respect. I lose every mo- ment that long-suffering patience, with which, nevertheless, I have had the misfortune to displease them all : my pru- dence, even my kindness, so rare and strange a virtue in the post which I occupy, have been useless. Is it your pleasure that I should disclose to you, magnifi- cent lord, the cause of all these disorders? It is in your heart alone, in the tender affection which you have for them. If you did not withhold my hand ; if, instead of remonstrating, you would allow me to punish ; if, rather than suffer them to soften you by their complaints and * Drawing-room we would say to-day. In the eighteenth century it was in their elegant cabinets de toilette that ladies received visitors. PERSIAN LETTERS 129 tears, you would send them to weep before me, whom nothing can move, I would soon fashion them to the yoke they ought to bear, and weary out this proud and inde- pendent temper. Stolen, at the age of fifteen years, out of the heart of Africa, my native country, I was at first sold to a master, who had more than twenty wives, or concubines. Judging from my grave and taciturn air, that I would be an acqui- sition in the seraglio, he ordered that I should be prepared for it, and made me undergo an operation, painful at first, but fortunate in its results, because it has given me the ear and the confidence of my masters. I entered the se- raglio, to me a new world. The first eunuch, the sternest man I ever knew, governed there with undisputed sway. Nothing was ever heard of divisions or of quarrels: pro- found silence reigned everywhere : all these women were put to bed at the same hour, and wakened at the same hour, from one year's end to the other : they entered the bath in turn, and left it at the slightest sign made by us : the rest of the time they were almost always shut up in their rooms. He had one rule, which exacted the observance of the greatest neatness, and he was in this matter inexpressibly careful : the least refusal of obedience was punished without mercy. "I am," said he, "a slave; but the slave of a man who is your master and mine; and I use the power which he has given me over you : it is he who chastises you, not I; I only lend my hand." These women never entered my master's chamber but when they were summoned ; that favor they welcomed gladly, and saw themselves deprived of it without a murmur. As for myself, the least of the blacks in that peaceful seraglio, I was a thousand times more respected than I am in yours, where I command all. As soon as the chief eunuch had recognized my genius, he regarded me with favor, and spoke of me to his master as of one able to carry out his views, and to succeed him in the post which he filled : he was not afraid of my great youth, believing that my application would make up for my want of experience. Shall I tell you? I advanced so rap- idly in his confidence that he went the length of intrusting ' 9 I30 MONTESQUIEU'S me with the keys of those dreadful places, which he had guarded for so long a time. It was under this great mas- ter that I learned the difficult art of commanding, and that I was formed according to the maxims of an inflexible gov- ernment : I studied under him the heart of women : he taught me to take advantage of their weaknesses, and not to be dismayed by their arrogance. Often he amused him- self by watching me drive their obedience to the very last verge; he then made them return gradually, and required that I for some time should appear to yield. But he should have been seen at those times when, now beseeching, now reproaching, they were driven almost to despair : he beheld their tears unmoved, rejoicing in his triumph. " See, " said he, with a satisfied air, " how women must be governed : their number does not trouble me ; I could manage in the same way all those of our great king. How can a man hope to win their hearts, if his faithful eunuchs have not begun by breaking their spirits ? '* He was not only a man of resolution, but also of pene- tration. He read their thoughts and their dissemblings : their studied gestures, their made-up looks, concealed noth- ing from him. He knew all their most hidden actions, their most secret words. He obtained his information by making them tell on each other ; and it was his pleasure to reward the most insignificant confidence. As they never approached their husband except when they were ordered, the eunuch summoned whom he liked, and directed the at- tention of his master to those whom he wished to please; and this distinction was the reward for the revelation of some secret. He had persuaded his master that it was of the first importance that the choice should be left to him, as it would give his authority much greater weight. That was the method of government, magnificent lord, in a seraglio, which was, I believe, the best regulated in all Persia. Give me a free hand, allow me to make myself obeyed, and eight days will see order take the place of confusion ; this, your glory demands, and your safety requires. Yotm Seraguo at Ispahan, the 9th of the first moon of Rebiab, 1714. PERSIAN LETTERS 131 lyETTER LXV XJSBEK TO HIS Wives, at the Seragwo at Ispahan 1 UNDERSTAND that the seraglio at Ispahan is in disorder, that it is full of quarrels, and intestine divisions. At my departure did I not recommend you to be at peace and maintain a good understanding? You promised this ; was it to deceive me ? It is you who will be deceived, if I choose to follow the counsels of the chief eunuch ; if I choose to employ my authority to make you live as I exhorted you to do. I do not, however, see why I should make use of those violent means until I have tried all others. Do, then, for your own sakes, what you have not cared to do for mine. The first eunuch has a great subject of complaint : he says that you pay no attention to him. How can you harmonize that behavior with the modesty which should belong to your condition ? Is not your virtue confided to him during my absence? It is a sacred treasure, of which he is the guardian. But the contempt with which you treat him, makes it apparent that those who are charged to lead you in the paths of honor are irksome to you. Change your behavior then, I beg you ; and see to it that I may be able still to reject the proposals which have been made to me against your freedom and your tran- quillity. For I wish you to forget that I am your master, and to be remembered only as your husband. Paris, the sth of the moon of Chahban, 1714. 132 MONTESQUIEU'S I^ETTER lyXVI Rica to * * * l- PBOPLB are very much devoted to the sciences here, but I question if they are very learned. He who, as a plijl osopher, dqa ^|5.uiL^jL dar e deny nothing as a theologian : the mconsisjtent. man is-always- well pleased with himself provided you agree with him. The passion of nearly every Frenchman, is to pass for a wit ; and the passion of those who wish to be thought wits, is to write books. There never was such an erroneous idea : it seems to be a wise provision of nature that the follies of men should be short lived ; but books interfere and immortalize them. A fool, not content with having bored all those who have lived with him, insists on tormenting generations to come ; he would have his folly triumph over oblivion, which should have been as welcome to him as death ; he wishes posterity to be informed of his existence, and he would have it re- membered forever that he was a fool. Of all authors, there are none whom I despise more than compilers. They crowd from all quarters to pick up the shreds of other men's works ; these they fit into their own, as one would patch the turf of a lawn : they are not one whit superior to the compositor, whose typesetting may be called bookmaking if manual labor is all. I would have original books respected ; and it seems to me a species of profanation, to take from them the matter of which they are composed, as if from a sanctuary, and exposed it to an undeserved contempt. When a man has nothing new to say, why can't he be quiet? Why should one be troubled with these useless repetitions? But I will give you a new illustration. You are a man of ability ! You come into my library ; and you shift the books from the lower shelves to the upper ones, and from the upper to the lower : you have produced a masterpiece ! PERSIAN LETTERS 133 I write 3'ou, . . . , because I am exasperated with a book which I have just laid down — a book so big that it seems to contain all science : but it has only split my head without putting anything into it. Farewell. Fakis, the 8th of the moon of Chahban, 1714. LETTER lyXVII Ibbbn to Usbek, at Paris THRBB vessels have arrived here without bringing any news from you. Are you ill, or does it amuse you to make me uneasy ? If you do not love me in a country where you are quite unfettered, how will it be in the middle of Persia, and in the bosom of your family? But perhaps I am wrong: you are charming enough to find friends everywhere ; the heart is a native of all lands : what should hinder a generous nature from forming attachments? I confess, I respect old friendships ; but I am quite well pleased to make new ones everywhere. In whatever country I have been, I have lived as if I were to spend the rest of my days there : I have had the same strongjjking for^irtuous people, the same pity, or I should say the same love, for the wretched, and the same esifeem^ for those whom prosperity . has not blinded. That is^^iy" chafacler, Usbek : wherever I find men, I choose friends. There is here a Guebre* who I believe, after you, holds the chief place in my heart : he is the very soul of honor. Special reasons have obliged him to retire to this town, where, with his beloved wife, he lives peacefully on the earnings of an honest trade. A generous temper has distin- guished him all his life ; and although he prefers obscurity, * Guebre, or infidel, the name applied to the fire- worshipers, de- scended from the immediate followers of Zoroaster. According to Dr. C. J. Wills, in his "Persia as It Is,* there are only about 8,000 Guebres left in Persia, and these are congregated at Yezd. 134 MONTESQUIEU'S there is more of true heroism in him than in many of the greatest monarchs. I have often spoken to him of you, and I show him all your letters. I note that this gives him great pleasure, and I perceive already that you have a friend, who is un- known to you. Here you will find his principal adventures. Although he was very reluctant to write them, he can refuse nothing to my friendship, and I confide them to yours. The History of Apheridon and Astarte I was born among the Guebres, whose religion is per- haps the oldest in the world. My misfortunes began, when, at the age of six, love dawned in me before reason, and I could not live without my sister. My eyes were always fixed on her, and if she left me for a moment, she found me, on returning, bathed in tears : each new day added not more to my age than to my love. My father, astonished at such strength of feeling, was quite willing that we should be married, according to the ancient custom of the Guebres, introduced by Cambyses;* but fear of the Mohammedans, under whose yoke we lived, prevented our people from thinking of those holy alliances, which our religion orders rather than permits, and which are such innocent reflections of a union already formed by nature. My father, seeing how dangerous it would be to follow my inclination, which was also his, determined to ex- tinguish a flame, believed by him to be newly lit, but which was already at its height. Under pretext of a voy- age, he took me away, leaving my sister in the hands of a relative ; for my mother had been dead for two years. I cannot describe the misery of that separation : I embraced my sister, she all bathed in tears, but I, dry-eyed ; Jfor grief had made me callous. We arrived at Tiflis ; my father, having intrusted my education to one of our rela- tives, left me, and returned home. *A fabulous Cambyses, father of Hystaspes, or Gustaspes, King of Persia, under whom Zoroaster lived. Cambyses, under ttie name of Hohoraspes, and his son are referred to further on in this letter. PERSIAN LETTERS 135 Some time after, I learned that, through the influence of one of his friends, he had placed my sister in the harem of the king to wait upon a sultana. Had I been told of her death, I could not have been more overcome ; for, apart from the fact that I could never hope to see her again, her entrance into the harem had made her a Mohammedan, and according to the superstition of that religion she could only regard me with horror. Nevertheless, unable to live longer at Tiflis, tired of myself and of life^ I returned to Is- pahan. My first words to my father were acrimonious; I reproached him with having placed his daughter in a place which could not be entered without a change in religion. "You have drawn upon your family," said I to him, "the anger of God and of the Sun which lights you : you have done more wrong than if you had polluted the elements, inasmuch as you have polluted the soul of your daughter, which is not less pure : I shall die of grief and of love ; and may my death be the only calamity which God will make you su£Eer ! " With these words I went away ; and for two years I spent my life staring at the walls of the harem, and wondering in which part of it my sister might be, in danger every day of having my throat cut by the eunuchs, who walk their rounds about that dread place. At last my father died ; and the sultana whom my sister served, seeing that she grew in beauty every day, became jealous, and married her to a eunuch who was passionately in love with her. In this way my sister left the seraglio, and occupied with her eunuch a house in Ispahan. It was three months before I was able to get speech of her, the eunuch, the most jealous of men, always putting me off with various excuses. But at last I was admitted to his harem, where I had to talk to my sister through a lattice. She was so closely wrapped in robes and veils that the eyes of a lynx could not have discovered anything, and I could recognize her only by the sound of her voice. My emotion was overpowering when I found myself so close to her, and yet so far away. I restrained myself, however, for I was watched. As for her, she seemed to shed a few tears. Her husband offered some kind of halting apology ; 136 MONTESQUIEU'S but I treated him like the least of his slaves. He was very much annoyed when he heard me speak to my sister in a tongue unknown to him. It was ancient Persian I used, the language of our religion. " What, my sister ! " cried I, " is it true that you have renounced the worship of your fathers? I know that, in entering a harem, you must perforce profess Mohammedanism ; but, tell me, did your heart agree with your lips in renouncing the religion which permits me to love you? And for whom have 3'ou renounced that religion which should be so dear to us? For a wretch still branded with the marks of slavery ; who, if he were a man, would be the basest of his kind." "Brother," said she, "this man of whom you speak is my husband ; it is my duty to honor him, all unworthy as he may appear to you ; and it is I who would be the basest of women, if . . ." "Ah! my sister," said I, "you are a Guebre : this man is not, and can never be, your hus- band. Had you kept the faith like your fathers, you would regard him only as a monster." "Alas!" said she, "how far removed from me that religion seems now ! I had hardly learned its precepts when I was obliged to forget them. You hear that this language which I speak to you is no longer familiar to me, and that I have the greatest difficulty in expressing myself. But remember that I cherish always the exquisite memory of our childhood; that since then I have known only the mockery of happi- ness ; that not a day has passed in which I have not thought of you ; that you have had a greater share in my marriage than you imagine, for it was the hope of seeing you again that won my consent to it. But this day, which has cost me so much, will cost me more yet ! I see you beside yourself with passion, and my husband quivers with rage and jealousy. I will never see you more; I speak to you without a doubt for the last time in my life; and if that be so, my brother, I know it will not be a long one." She melted at these words; and finding herself unable to continue the conversation, she left me, the most disconso- late of men. Three or four days afterward I asked to see my sister. The brutish eunuch would have been very glad to prevent PERSIAN LETTERS 137 me; but, besides the fact that husbands of that kind have not so much power over their wives as others, he loved my sister so frantically, that he could refuse her nothing. I saw her again in the same place, veiled as before, and ac- companied by two slaves, and was compelled to resort to our own language. "My sister," said I, "how is it that I cannot see you except in these horrible circumstances ? The walls which keep you imprisoned, these bolts and gratings, these miserable guards who watch you, drive me mad. How have you lost the sweet freedom in which your ances- tors rejoiced? Your mother, who was so chaste, gave to her husband, as the sole pledge of her virtue, that virtue itself: they lived happy in each other, and in their mutual confidence ; and the simplicity of their manners was to them a thousand times more precious than the false splendor which you seem to enjoy in this sumptuous house. In losing your religion, you have lost your liberty, your hap- piness, and that precious equality which is the lionor of your^^x.- But -Ihere JjS-.5Qmething much worse behind ; and that is, the thing which you are — not the wife, for that you cannot be, but the slave of a slave, who has been de- graded from humanity. " " Ah, my brother ! " said she, " have respect for my husband, for the religion which I have embraced : according to that religion, I cannot listen, I cannot speak, to you without sin." "What, my sister!" said I, trembling with emotion, "then you believe that re- ligion, you think it true!" "Ah!" said she, "how much better it would be for me if it were not true ! I have made too great a sacrifice for it, not to believe in it ; and if my doubts . . . " At these words she became silent. " Yes, my sister, your doubts ! They are well founded, whatever they may be. What can you expect from a religion which makes you miserable in this world, and leaves you no hope for the next? Remember that our religion is the most ancient in the world ; that it has always flourished in Per- sia, and that it originated with the Persian empire, the be- ginnings of which are beyond human ken ; that it is only chance that has introduced Mohammedanism here ; that that sect has been established, not by the power of persuasion, but by conquest. If our native princes had not been weak. 138 MONTESQUIEU'S you would have beheld the worship of those ancient Magi* reigning still. Transport yourself into those remote ages : everything will speak to you of Magism, and nothing of the Mohammedan sect which, many thousands of years after, was not even in its infancy." "But," said she, "al- though my religion may be more modern than yours, it is at least purer, since it adores but one God; while you still worship the sun, the stars, fire, and even the ele- ments. " " I perceive, my sister, that you have learned among the Mussulmans to slander our holy religion. We adore neither the stars nor the elements; and our fathers did not adore them : they never built temples to them, nor offered sacrifices in their honor : they yielded only such inferior reverence as is due to the works and manifestations of the Deity. But, my sister, in the name of God who is our light, accept this sacred volume which I have brought you : it is the book of our lawgiver, Zoroas- ter : read it without prejudice, and receive into your heart the light which will shine upon you : remember your fathers, who for so long a time honored the sun in the holy city of Balk ;t and, finally, do not forget me, whose hopes of peace, of fortune, and of life, depend upon your conversion." Transported by my feelings, I went away, and left her to decide alone the most momentous event of my life. I returned to her in two days. I did not speak ; I waited in silence the sentence of life or death. " You are loved, my brother," she said, "and by a Guebre. I have resisted long ; but, ye gods ! what difficulties love can overcome ! A load has fallen from me ! I am no longer afraid that I may love you too much ; there is no limit to my passion now that excess itself is lawful. Ah ! how sweetly that thought chimes with my happy heart ! But you, who have found a way to break the chains which my soul had forged for itself, when will you break those which fetter my hands ? From this moment I give myself to you : show by the speed *The caste of hereditary priests under the Medes and Persians. Zoroaster reformed their religious doctrines and ceremonies. fThe ancient Bactra. The Axch-mage resided there till the follow ers of Zoroaster were overcome by the Caliphs. PERSIAN LETTERS 139 ■with which you take me how dear the gift is. My brother, ■when I shall embrace you for the first time, I think I shall die in your arms." I can never fully express the joy which I felt at these ■words ; I believed myself, and actually saw myself, in one instant, the happiest of men : I beheld almost fulfilled all the desires which I had formed in my twenty- five years of life, and the disappearance of all the misery which had made it so hard. But, when I had grown some- what accustomed to these delightful thoughts, I perceived that I was not so near my happiness , as I had on the firs blush imagined, although I had overcome the chief obstacle in my path. It would be necessary to evade the watchful- ness of her guards ; I dared not confide to any one the secret of my life ; I had only my sister, and she had only me : if my attempt failed, I ran the risk of being impaled ; but no torture seemed so cruel as to be without her. We arranged that she should send to me for a timepiece which her father had left her ; and that I should put inside it a file, to cut the lattice of the window which opened on the street, and a knotted rope by which to descend ; that there- after I should cease to visit her, but should wait every night under her window until she could execute her design. I passed fifteen entire nights without seeing any one, be- cause she had not found a favorable opportunity. At length, on the sixteenth, I heard the rasping of the file : from time to time the work was interrupted, and in the in- tervals my dread was inexpressible. After an hour's labor, I saw her fasten the rope ; she let herself go, and slid into my arms. All danger was forgotten, and for a long time we stood there motionless. Then I led her out of the city to a spot where I had a horse all ready : I lifted her to the croup behind me, and fled with all imaginable speed from a neighborhood which might have been so disastrous to us. We arrived before morning at the house of a Guebre, in a lonely place to whjch he had retired, living frugally on the produce of his own labor. We did not think it wise to stay with him, and by his advice we entered a dense for- est, where we lodged in the hollow of an old oak, until the rumor of our flight had died away. We lived together in this out-of-the-way abode, unseen of any, telling our love I40 MONTESQUIEU'S over and over again to each other, and waiting until the ceremony of marriage, prescribed by our religion, could be performed by a Guebre priest. * My sister," said I, "how holy is that union ! Nature has joined us, and our holy law will join us in another bond." At last a priest came to quiet the impatience of our love. In the house of the peasant he performed all the ceremonies of marriage ; he blessed us, and wished us a thousand times the vigor of Gustaspes, and the holiness of Hohoraspes. Soon after we left Persia, where we were not safe, and retired into Georgia. We lived there a year, and every day increased the pleasure we found in each other's company. But when my money was nearly done, fearing misery for my sister, not for myself, I left her to seek help from our relatives. Never was a parting more tender. My journey, however, was not only useless, but disastrous. For, having found all our goods confiscated, and my relatives almost powerless to aid me, I brought away with me no more money than sufficed for my return. But, imagine my despair ! My sister was not to be found. Some days before my arrival the Tartars had invaded the city where she was, and find- ing her beautiful, had seized her, and sold her to some Jews who were bound for Turkey, leaving me only a little daughter bom some months before. I followed these Jews, and overtook them three leagues off. In vain I besought them with tears, they persisted in demanding thirty tomans, * and would not bate a single coin. Having gone to everybody, and having begged the aid of both the Christian and the Turkish priests, I applied to an Armenian merchant : to him I sold my daughter and myself for thirty-five tomans. I went to the Jews, gave them their thirty tomans, and carried the other five to my sister, whom I Jiad not yet seen. "You are free," said I, "my sister, and I can embrace you. Here are five tomans I have brought ; I am sorry they would not buy me for more. " "What!" cried she, "you have sold yourself ?" "Yes," re- plied I. " Ah ! wretched man, what have you done ? Was I not miserable enough, that you should make me more so? Your freedom was my comfort ; your bondage will bring me *A toman is equal to a little more than eighteen shillings. PERSIAN LETTERS 141 to the grave. Ah ! my brother, how cruel your love is ! and my daughter ? I do not see her ! " "I have sold her too," said I. We both burst into tears, and were unable to utter a single word. At last I had to return to my mas- ter. My sister was with him almost as soon as I. She threw her- self at his feet saying, "I beg from you slavery as others ask for freedom : take me, you can sell me for a greater sum than my husband." Then there took place a struggle which drew tears from my master's eyes. "Unhappy man ! * said she, " did you think that I would accept my liberty at the cost of yours? Master, you behold two unfortunates who will die if you separate them. I give myself to you ; pay me : perhaps that money and my services will some day obtain from you what I dare not now ask. It is for your own interest not to separate us : his life depends on me. * The Armenian, a humane man, was touched by our woes : " Serve me, both of you, with fidelity and zeal, and I promise you that in a year I will give you your freedom. I see that neither of you deserve the wretchedness of your lot. If, when you become free, your happiness is as great as your merit, and fortune smiles upon you, I am certain that you will repay me that which I shall lose." We both em- braced his knees, and attended him on his journey. We comforted each other in our servile tasks ; and I was de- lighted when I could do the work which fell to my sister's share. The end of the year arrived ; our master kept his word and set us free. We returned to Tiflis. There I found an old friend of my father's, who practiced successfully as a physician in that city. He lent me some money with which I traded. Some business called me shortly after to Smjrrna, where I established myself. I have lived there for six years in the enjoyment of the most amiable and agree- able society in the world. Unity reigns in my family, and I would not change my lot for that of all the kings of the earth. I have been fortunate enough to meet again the Arme- nian merchant, to whom I owe all ; and I have been able to render him some important services. Smyrna, the 27th of the second moon of Genunadi, 1714. 142 MONTESQUIEU'S IvETTER I.XVIII \.^-^'' Rica to Usbbk, at * * * THE other day I dined at the house of a magistrate, who had often invited me. After we had talked of a va- riety of things, I said to him, " Sir, it appears to me that your profession is very laborious." "Not so much as you imagine, " he rejoined ; " as we prosecute it, it is only an amusement. " " But how ! is your head not always full of other people's business? are you not always occupied with matters that do not interest you ? " " You are right ; these matters do not interest us, because we take not the least interest in them; and that is how our profession is not so fatiguing as you supposed." When I saw that he took the matter so carelessly, I continued, and said, "Sir, I have not jeen your study." " I Jaelieye. you ; for I_Jiave none. .,.„Wbea I took, this post,_ lacking the money to pay for it, I sold myjjbrary. The bookseller who bought it, 'out of a vast number of volumes, left me only my account book. Nor do I regret them : we judges have no need to stuff our heads with useless knowledge. " "What have we to do with all these legal volumes? Almost all the cases are questions of fact, and outside the general rule. " " But, sir, may it not be because you make them so? For, in short, why should all the peoples of the world have laws, if these laws are not to be applied? And how can one who does not know them, apply them?" «If you were acquainted with the courts of justice," replied the magistrate, "you would not speak as you do. We have living books, the advocates : they work for us, and take upon themselves the task of instructing us." ^"And do they not also sometimes take upon themselves the task of deceiving you?" I re- torted. * It would not be a bad thing to guard yourself against their wiles. They have weapons with which to at- tack your justice : it would be well if you were in a con- dition to defend it: you ought not to rush into the midst of the fight, thinly clad, among people armed to the teeth." Paris, the 13th of the moon of Chahbau, 17 14. PERSIAN LETTERS 143 IvETTER LXIX USBBK TO RhBDI, at VENICB YOU would never have dreamed that I could become a greater metaphysician than I was. Such is the case, however ; and you will be convinced of it, when you have waded through this flood of my philosophy. The most sensible of those philosophers, who have con- sidered the nature of God, have declared that He is a being supremely perfect ; but they have sadly abused this idea. They have tabulated all the various perfections which man is capable of possessing and of imagining, and with these they have clad the idea of God, not thinking that these at- tributes are often contradictory, and, being mutually de- structive, cannot subsist in the same individual. The western poets tell how a painter,* wishing to make a likeness of the goddess of beauty, gathered together the most beautiful Greek women, and, having taken from each that grace in which she most excelled, combined their se- lected charms into a picture of the loveliest of the god- desses. , If, on that account, a man should think that she was both fair and dark, that her eyes were black and blue, and that she was, at one and the same time, sweet tempered and haughty, he would pass for a fool. God often falls short of a perfection which would make Him very imperfect: but_He _is_never_Jimited^ except by Himself; He is His own law. Thus,^lthough Godjs all-; powerful, He can"neither _break_His promises, nor _deceive | men.. Often too. His impotence is not subjective, but ob-l jective; and that is the reason.why, HejsaJW«3t~chaage„ the, nature of tyngs»„. So, also, it i^ not so very wonderful that some of our learned men should have denied the infinite foreknowledge of God, upon the principle that it is incompatible with H is justice. However bold this idea may be, it is countenanced re- markably by metaphysics. According to metaphysical *Zeuxis, -when he painted Helen for the Agrigentines. 144 MONTESQUIEU'S principles, it is impossible that God should foresee such things as depend upon the determination of free causes; because that which has not happened does not exist, and consequently, cannot be known ; for nothing, having no properties, cannot be perceived : God cannot read a will which does not exist, nor discern in the mind what it does not contain, for, until the mind is made up, the thing determined on is not in .it. The mind is the author of its determination ; but there are occasions when it is so irresolute, that it does not even know for which side to determine. Often indeed it makes / a s electio n onl y to ti sg.j|gjjliert|^ jn, sucb--a- maHner^that-- God cannot foresee its jchojcgj^ neither in,jt^osHa_a,ctiQn, noFln the operation of objects upon it. How could God^foresee things which depend jupon the deternainaHon of free causes? He could only see them in , twd'ways : by conjecture, which is incompatible with His infinite foreknowledge ; or He could see them as necessary effects proceeding infallibly from a cause which produces them. as infallibly — a method even more at variance with divine foreknowledge, for it supposes that the mind is free, with a freectom, however, no^j^eater than that of a billiard ball, which is at -liberty tcr* move when it is^struclT^by another. Do not think, however, that I wish to limit God's knowl- edge. Since He directs the actions of His creatures accord- ing to His pleasure, He knows all that He wishes to know. But although He can see everything, H g does not always make use of that power : He generally leaves man the power lo do ai' thing or to leaje. it alone, in order that he may be able to choose between right and wrong ; and"this is wfiy^God renounces, the absolute authority ,wiiich_He_haa__. o^r the ffljnd, But, when He desires to know anything, He always knows it, because He has only to will that a thing shall happen as He sees it, and to make His crea- tures conform to His will. It is thus that He selects what shall happen from the number of mere possibilities, fixing by His decrees the future determinations of men's "minds, and depriving them of the power which He gave them to do or not to do. PERSIAN LETTERS 145 Let me employ a comparison in a matter which tran- scends all comparisons: — A monarch, ignorant of what his ambassador will do in an important affair, if he wishes to know, has only to command him to conduct the negotiation in such or such a manner, and he will be certain that the thing will happen as he planned it. The Koran and the Hebrew books are constant witnesses against the dogma of absolute foreknowledge : God appears throughout these writings as ignorant of the future deter- minations of men's minds : and it seems that this was the first truth that Moses taught mankind. God placed Adam in the terrestrial paradise, on condition that he should not eat of a certain fruit: an absurd com- mand to be given by a being acquainted with the future/ determination's of men's minds ; for, in short, could such a being make His favor depend on such conditions, without! rendering it ridiculous? It is as if a man who was aware of the capture of Bagdad should say to another, " I will give you a hundred tomans if Bagdad is not taken."* Would that not be a very sorry jest? My dear Rhedi, why all this philosophy? God is so far above us~tttatjjvre_ cannot^ perceive even His clouds. We have no knowledge of Him except in His "commandments. He is a spirit, immense and infinite. May his greatness make^'^cbnscidus of our own weakness. To humble our- selves continually, is to adore Him continually. Paris, the last day of the moon of Chahban, 1714. IvETTER LXX Zei-is to Usbek, at Paris SOLiMAN, whom you love, has been driven desperate by an affront which he has just received. Three months ago a young giddypate, named Suphis, sought his daugh- ter in marriage ; he seemed satisfied with the girl's appear- ance from the report and description given him by the •This paragraph appeared first in the edition of 1754. 146 MONTESQUIEU'S women who had been with her during her childhood ; the dowry had been agreed upon, and all was going well. Yesterday, after the first ceremonies, the girl set out on horseback, accompanied by her eunuch, and veiled, accord- ing to custom, from head to foot. But when she arrived at the house of her intended husband, he caused the door to be shut in her face, and swore that he would never re- ceive her unless her dowry were increased. Her relatives hastened from all quarters to arrange the matter ; and after a deal of resistance, Soliman agreed to make a small present to his son-in-law. The marriage ceremonies were completed, and the girl conducted to her husband's bed with sufficient violence ; but, an hour after, this giddypate rose in a rage, cut her face in several places, and, declar- ing that she was not a virgin, sent her back to her father. No one could be more afflicted than he is by this injury. Many people maintain that the girl is innocent. Fathers are most unfortunate in being exposed to such affronts. If my daughter were to receive similar treatment, I believe I should die of grief. Farewell. Thb Seraglio at Fatme, the 9th of the first moon of Gemmadi, 1714. IvBTTER I.XXI USBEK TO ZELIS I AM sorry for Soliman, especially as his misfortune is without remedy, since his son-in-law has done no more than the law allows him. I think it a very harsh law, which exposes in this way the honor of a family to the caprice of a fool. It has been lightly said that there are sure signs whereby to know the truth : it is an old error from which we have now departed; and our physi- cians have supplied invincible reasons for the uncertainty of these proofs. Even among the Christians there are none who do not regard them as imaginary, although they are plainly established in their sacred writings, and although PERSIAN LETTERS 147 their ancient lawgiver* has made the innocence or condem- nation of all their daughters depend upon them. I am pleased to know that you are giving great care to the education of yours. God grant that her husband may find her as lovely and as pure as Fatima ; f may she have ten eunuchs to guard her ; may she be the honor and the ornament of the seraglio to which she is destined ; may she have overhead none but gilded ceilings, and under foot only the richest carpets ! And, to crown these wishes, may my eyes see her in all her glory ! Paris, the 3d of the moon of Chalval, 1714. IvETTER lyXXII Rica to Ibbbn, at * * * I FOUND myself recently in a company where I met a man very well satisfied with himself. In a quarter of an hour, he decided three questions in morals, four historical problems, and five points in physics. I have never seen so universal a decider ; J his mind was not once troubled with the least doubt. We left science and talked of the current news : he decided upon the current news. I wished to catch him, so I said to myself, " I must get to my strong point ; I will betake me to my own country." I spoke to him of Persia; but hardly had I opened my mouth, when he contradicted me twice, basing his objections upon the authority of Tavernier and Chardin. § " Ah ! good heavens!" said I to myself, "what kind of man is this? He will know next all the streets in Ispahan better than I do ! " I soon knew what part to play — to be silent, and let him talk ; and he is still laying down the law. Paris, the 8th of the moon of Zilcade, 1715. * Moses. — Deuteronomy, ch. xxii., v. 13-21. tSee Letter I, note, p. 31. X Decisionnaire in the original, a word invented by Montesqiiien to describe a man who lays down the law upon everything. § Tavernier (1605-89) and Chardin (1643-1713), the Persian travelers from whose books Montesquieu derived his knowledge of Persia. 148 MONTESQUIEU'S IvETTER IvXXIII Rica to * * * Ihavb; heard much talk of a sort of court called the French Academy. There is no tribunal in the world which is less respected'; for they say that no sooner does it issue a decree than the people break it, and substi- tute laws which the Academy is bound to follow. Some time ago, in order to establish its authority, it issued a code of its decisions.* This child of so many fathers may be said to have been old when It was bom ; and although it was legitimate, a bastard, f bom before it, nearly strangled it at its birth. Those who compose this court have no other function than to jabber perpetually : eulogy suggests itself as the one subject of their incessant babble ; and as soon as they are initiated into its mysteries, a frenzy of panegyric lays hold of them, and will not be shaken off. This body has forty heads, all of them chokeful of tropes, of metaphors, and of antitheses ; so that their lips scarcely ever open without an exclamation, and their ears are always waiting to be touched with rhythm and harmony. As for their eyes, they are out of the question ; the Academy seems to be intended to talk and not to see. It is not firm on its legs ; for time, which is its scourge, smites it inces- santly and destroys all it does. It is said that at one time its hands were grasping ; I have nothing to say on the sub- ject, and will leave those to decide it who know more about it than I do. Such eccentricities . . . are unknown in our Persia. We have no bent toward what is odd and extravagant; we endeavor to shape our simple customs and artless manners in the_siold of nature. Paris, the 27111 of the moon of Zilhage, 1715. *The dictionary of the Academy. tThe dictionary of PuretiSre. The author was expelled from the Academy in 1685, because he was accused of having profited by the PERSIAN LETTERS 149 I^ETTER LXXIV USBEK TO Rica, at * * * SOMB days ago a man of my acquaintance said to me, " I promised to introduce you to the best houses in Paris. I will take you now to that of a great lord who supports his rank as well as any man in France." '* What do you mean by that, sir ? Is he more refined, more polite than others?" *No," said he. "Ah! I under- stand : he makes his superiority felt on all occasions by those who approach him. If that is it, I shall have noth- ing to do with him ; I give up the whole case, and accept my inferiority." I had, however, to go ; and I saw a little man, supercil- ious to a degree. He took a pinch of snuff with such a haughty air, he blew his nose so mercilessly, he spat with such indifference, and caressed his dogs in a style so offen- sive to the onlookers, that I could not but marvel at him. " Ah ! sweet Heaven ! " said I to myself ; " if, when I was at the court of Persia, I behaved in this way, I behaved like a great fool ! " We would have been very inferior creatures, Rica, had we offered a hundred little insults to those people who waited upon us daily in token of their goodwill. They knew well that we were above them ; and if they had not, our favors would have made them daily conscious of it. There being no need to secure their re- spect, we did our utmost to win their affection : we were accessible to the humblest ; in the midst of our greatness, usually so hardening, they found we had feelings ; only our hearts appeared to belong to a higher order ; we descended to their wants. But, when it was necessary to support the dignity of our sovereign in public ceremonies, to make the nation worthy of respect in the eyes of strangers ; and, lastly, when in times of danger, we required to animate our soldiers, our bearing became more lofty a hundred times work of his fellow-Academicians in the composition of the dictionary which bears his name. I50 MONTESQUIEU'S than it had been before lowly; we resumed our haughty looks ; and not seldom we were found to play our part at least adequately. Paris, the loth of the moon of Saphar, 1715. LETTER I/- ' imjuX'.-x .,,. -■ That in these states" a petty revolt never takes place ; and that an uprising follows the first murmur of sedition without a moment's interval ; That in them great events are not necessarily prepared by great causes : on the contrary, the..lgasL„aC£idettL„pro- duces a great revolution, often as unf oreseen_b;^_those_wha, I' cause it as by those who suffer from it. '• When Osman, ISmperor 61 tEe"Turks, was deposed,* none of those who committed that crime had any intention of doing so : they simply asked, as suppliants, that justice should be done for some wrong : a voice, which no one knew, issued from the crowd by chance ; it pronounced the name of Mustapha, and suddenly Mustapha was Emperor. Paris, the 2d of the first moon of Rebiab, 1715. IvETTER IvXXXII Nargum, Persian Envoy in Muscovy, to Usbek, at Paris OF ALL the nations of the world, my dear Usbek, none has excelled' that of the Tartars in the splendor and magnitude of its conquests. This people is the ver- itable ruler of the earth : all the others seem to be intended for its service ; it is alike the founder and the destroyer of empires ; in all times, it has afforded the world signs of its prowess ; in every age it has been the scourge of the nations. Twice the Tartars conquered China, and they still keep it in subjection. They rule over those vast territories which form the Mogul's empire. Masters of Persia, they sit upon the throne of Cyrus and Hystaspes. They have subdued Muscovy. Under the *In 1622. II i62 MONTESQUIEU'S name of Turks, they have made immense conquests in Europe, Asia, and Africa ; and they are the dominant power in these three quarters of the earth. In more remote times, from them issued forth some of those races who overthrew the Roman empire.* What are the conquests of Alexander compared with those of Zenghis Khan? Nothing is wanting to this victorious nation except his- torians to celebrate its achievements. What immortal deeds have been buried in oblivion ! Of how many empires founded by them is the origin unknown to us ! This warlike nation, occupied exclusively with its immediate glory, and certain of conquest in every age, gave no thought to the commemoration of its fame. Moscow, the 4th of the first moon of Rebiab, 1715. I^ETTER I,XXXIII Rica to Ibben, at Smyrna Ai^THOXJGH the French are great talkers, there is never- theless among them a sort of silent dervishes, called Carthusians. They are said to cut out their tongues on entering the convent; and it is much to be desired that all other dervishes would deprive themselves in the same way of that which their profession renders useless to them. Talking of these taciturn people reminds me that there are others who excel them in taciturnity, and who have a very remarkable gift. These are they who know how to talk without saying anything; and who carry on a conver- sation for two whole hours without its being possible to discover their meaning, to rehearse their talk, or to re- member a word of what they have said. This class of people are adored by the women ; but not so much as some others who have received from nature the charming gift of smiling at the proper time, that is to *The Huns. PERSIAN LETTERS 163 say, every moment; and who receive with delighted appro- bation everything the ladies say. But these people carry wit to its highest pitch ; for they can detect subtlety in everything, and perceive a thousand little ingenious touches in the merest commonplaces. I know others of them who are fortunate enough to be able to introduce into conversation inanimate things, and to make a long story about an embroidered coat, a white peruke, a snuffbox, a cane, a pair of gloves. It is well to begin in the street to make oneself heard by the noise of a coach and a thundering rap at the door : such a prologue paves the way for the rest of the discourse ; and when the exordium is good, it secures toleration for all the nonsense which follows, but which, fortunately, arrives too late to be detected. I assure you that these little gifts, which with us are of no account, are of great advantage here to those who are happy enough to possess them ; and that a sensible man has no chance of shining where they are displayed. Paris, the 6th of the second moon of Rebiab, 1715. LETTER I.XXXIV Usb:bk to Rhbdi, at Venicb IF THERK is a God, my dear Rhedi, He must of necessity be just ; because, if He were not so. He would be the worst and most imperfect of all beings. Justice is a true relation existing between two things; a relation which is always the "same, whoever contemplates it, whether it be God, or an angel, or lastly, man him- self. It is true that men do not always perceive these rela- tions: often indeed, whe;DL theyi do perceive _them,.„they turn aside from them, their own interest being, alwaxs,that which^theyperceive"most clearly. Justice cries aloud ; but her voice is hardly heard in the tumult of the passions. J 164 MONTESQUIEU'S I }. '■^^ I) ^ Men act unjustly, because it is their interest to do so, and b&1ffise~TEey^pTefeF"11iSf owH~"Satisfacfibn to tliat of others. They act always to secure some advantage to themselves : no one is a villain gratis ; there is always a determining motive, and that motive is always an interested onCi But it is not possible that God should ever commit an injustice. As soon as we grant that He perceives what is 1 right, it becomes necessary that He should follow it : were it not so, as He has no need of anything and is sufficient to Himself, He would be the most wicked of all beings, having no motive for wickedness. And so, even if there were no God, we ought always to love righteousness; that is to say, we should endeavor to resemble that Being of whom we have so lofty an idea, and who, if He did exist, would of necessity be righteous. Fre ed as w e would be froni_the,jBi§. of r eligion, we wou ld V^ f ^stilLbe bound by that of justice. \^ Here you have, Rhedi, that which makes me believe ^ ^'^^ Ji. that justice is eternal and independent of hu man conditio ns. And^ if it were dependent on them, it would be a truth so terrible that we would be compelled to hide it from ourselves. We are surrounded by men stronger than ourselvesinEEey can injure us in a thousand different ways, and with im- punity three times out of four : what a satisfaction^ it is for us to know that there is in- the heart of all men, an 5^ / |)^n j[a1; , e principle jwhich fights in our favor and—shieids us > I from their attempts ! Without that we would be in continual terror ; we would move among men as among lions ; and we would never feel sure for an instant of our property, our honor, and our lives. All these considerations incense me against those doctors who represent God as a being who makes a tyrannical use of His power; who make Him act in a manner which we would ourselves eschew for fear 01 offending Him ; who charge Him with all the imperfections which He punishes in us; and who, in their inconsistency, represent Him, now as a malicious being, and now as a being who hates evil and punishes it. ..^^■> PERSIAN LETTERS 165 When a man examines himself, what a satisfation for him it is to find that he has a righteous heart. That de- light, austere as it is, should ravish him : he perceives that he is a being as far above those who have it not, as he is above tigers and bears. Yes, Rhedi, were I sure of follow- ing always and inviolably that idea of righteousness which I have before my eyes, I would believe myself the best of men. Paris, the ist of the first moon of Gemmadi, 1715. I^ETTER I.XXXV Rica to * * * YEST:eRDAY I was at the Hotel des Invalides : if I were a king I would rather have founded that establishment than have gained three battles. Throughout it the hand of a great monarch appears. I think it is worthier of respect than any other institution in the world. What a sight to see assembled within the same walls all those who have suffered for their country, who lived only to defend it; and who, high hearted as ever, but lacking their old vigor, complain only of their inability to sacrifice themselves again ! What could be worthier of admiration than the sight of these disabled warriors in their retirement, observing a dis- cipline as strict as if they were constrained by the presence of an enemy, seeking their last satisfaction in that semblance of war, and dividing their thoughts and emotions between the duties of religion and those of their profession. I would have the names of those who die for their coun- try preserved in the temples, and inscribed in registers which should be the fountain head of glory and honor. Paris, the 15th of the first moon of Gemmadi, 1715. i66 MONTESQUIEU'S J I^ETTER LXXXVI* USBEK TO MiRZA, AT ISPAHAN YOU know, Mirza, that some ministers of Shah Soliman formed the design of obliging all the Armenians of Persia to quit the kingdom or become Mohamme- dans, in the belief that our empire will continue polluted, as long as it retains within its bosom these infidels. If, on that occasion, bigotry had carried the day, there would have been an end to the greatness of Persia. It is not known how the matter dropped. Neither those who made the proposition, nor those who rejected it, real- ized the consequences of their acts : chance performed the office of reason and of policy, and saved the empire from jeopardy greater than that which would have been entailed by a defeat in the field, and the loss of two cities. It is understood that the proscription of the Armenians would have extirpated in a single day all the merchants and almost all the artisans in the kingdom. I am sure that the great Shah Abbas would rather have lost both his arms than have signed such an order ; in sending to the Mogul and to the other kings of Ind the most industrious of his subjects, he would have felt that he was giving away the half of his dominions. The persecution of the Guebres by our zealous Moham- medans, has obliged them to fly in crowds into the Indies, and has deprived Persia of that nation, f which labored so heartily, that it alone, by its toil, was in a fair way to overcome the sterility of our land. Only one thing remained for bigotry to do, and that was, to destroy industry ; with the result that the empire fell of itself, carrying along with it as a necessary consequence, that very religion which they wished to advance. If unbiased discussion were possible, I am not sure, Mirza, that it would not be a good thing for a state to have several religions. •This letter is a bold and generous protest against the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. + The Parsees of Bombay are the descendants of the exiled Guebres. PERSIAN LETTERS 167 It is worthy of note that those who profess tolerated creeds usually prove more useful to their country than those who profess the established faith; because, being ex- cluded from all honors, and unable to distinguish them- selves except by wealth and its shows, they are led to acquire riches by their labor, and to embrace the most toilsome of occupations. Besides, as all religions contain some precepts advanta- 1 geous to society, it is well that they should be zealously observed. Now, _could there be a greater incitement to zeal than a multiplicity of religions? They are rivals who never forgive anything. Jealousy descends to individuals ; each one stands upon his guard, 1 afraid of doing anything that may dishonor his party, and of exposing it to the contempt and unpardonable censures of the opposite side. It has also been remarked that a new sect introduced into a state, was always the surest means of correcting the abuses of the old faith. It is sophistry to say that it is against the interest of the prince to tolerate many religions in his kingdom : though all the sects in the world were to gather together into one state, it would not be in the least detrimental to it, because there is no creed which does not ordain obed i- ence and pr each submission . I acknowledge that history is full of religious wars : but we must distinguish ; it is not the multiplicity of religions ' which has produced wars ; it is ^the intolerant spirit ani- mati"ngTB'at~T??hich believed itself in the ascendant. This is the spirit of proselytism which the Jews caught from the Egyptians, and which passed from them like an epidemic disease to the Mohammedans and the Christians. It is, in short, that capricious mood, which in its prog- ress can be compared only to a total ec lipse of human ! reason. j In conclusion, even if there were no inhumanity in dis- tressing the consciences of others, even if there did not result from such a course any of the evil effects which do spring from it in thousands, it would still be foolish to advise it. He who would have me change my religion is i68 MONTESQUIEU'S led to that, without doubt, because he would not change his own although force were employed ; and yet he finds 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 first moon of Gemmadi, 1715. IvETTER I.XXXVII Rica to * * * IT SSBMS that every member of a family in this country controls his own actions. The authority exercised by a husband over his wife, a father over his chil- dren, a master over his slaves, is merely nominal. The law interferes in all differences ; and you may be certain that it is always the jealous husband, the sorrowing father, the exasperated master. The other day I visited the place where justice is ad- ministered. Before getting there, I had to run the gauntlet of a crowd of young shopwomen who press you to buy in a most seductive manner. At first, the sight is sufficiently amusing ; but it becomes dismal when one enters the great halls, where all the people wear dresses even more solemn than their faces. At last one comes to the sacred place where all the secrets of families are revealed and the most hidden actions brought to light. Here a modest girl comes to confess the torments of a virginity too long preserved, her struggles and her painful resistance ; she is so little proud of her victory that she is always on the verge of accepting defeat ; and, in order that her father may no longer be ignorant of her wants, she exposes them to everybody.* Then some shameless woman appears to publish the in- juries she has done her husband, as a reason for a separa- tion. * According to a law derived from the Romans, in the southern provinces of France daughters could compel their fathers to dower them. (See Letter CXXV.) PERSIAN LETTERS 169 With equal modesty another comes to declare that she is tired of wearing the title, without enjoying the rights of a wife ; she reveals the hidden mysteries of the marriage night ; she wishes to be examined by the most skillful ex- perts, and prays for a decision re-establishing her in all the rights of virginity. Some even dare to challenge their hus- bands, and demand from them a public contest which the presence of witnesses renders so difficult ; a test as disgrace- ful for the wife who passes it, as for the husband who fails to stand it. A great number of young women, ravished or seduced, represent the men as being much worse than they are. This court resounds with love ; nothing is talked of but en- raged fathers, deluded daughters, faithless lovers, afflicted husbands. According to the law which here holds sway, every in- fant born in wedlock is considered the husband's ; should he have good reasons to believe it not his, the law believes it for him, and relieves him of his scruples, and of the necessity for inquiry. In this tribunal judgment goes by the majority ; but it is said that experience teaches that it would be wiser to follow the decision of the minority ; which is natural enough, for there are very few just minds, and plenty of ill-balanced ones, as all the world knows. Paris, the ist of the second moon of Gemmadi, 1715. I^KTTER LXXXVIII Rica to * * * MAN, they say, is a social animal. In this matter a Frenchman appears to me to be more of a man than any other ; he is the man par excellence, for he seems to be intended solely for societj'. But I have noticed among them some who are not only sociable, but are themselves society itself. They multiply I70 MONTESQUIEU'S themselves at every corner ; they people in an instant the four quarters of a city ; a hundred such men make more appearance than two thousand citizens ; a stranger would think that they might repair the ravages of plague and famine. It is debated in the schools whether a body can be in more than one place at once; they are a proof of that which philosophers call in question. They are always in a hurry, because they are engaged in the important business of asking every one they meet whither they are going, and whence they come. It can never be driven out of their heads that it is a part of good breeding to visit the public every day indi- vidually, without counting the wholesale visits which they-^^ make to places of general resort, which being much too brief a method is reckoned as nothing in the rules of their etiquette. Their knocking harasses the doors of the houses more than the winds and the storms. If one were to examine the lists of all the porters, their names would be found daily mutilated in a thousand different ways in Swiss writ- ing. They pass their lives in going to funerals, in expres- sions of condolence, or in marriage congratulations. The king never confers a favor on any of his subjects, without putting these gentry to the expense of a carriage to go and express their delight. At last, tired out, they return home, and rest themselves to be able to resume next day their laborious functions. The other day one of them died of weariness ; and they put this epitaph on his tomb : " Here rests one who never .rested before. He assisted at five hundred and thirty fu- nerals. He made merry at the births of two thousand six hundred and eighty children. He wished his friends joy, always varying the phrase, upon pensions amounting to two million six hundred thousand livres ; in town he walked nine thousand six hundred furlongs, in the country thirty- six furlongs. His conversation was pleasing ; he had a ready-made stock of three hundred and sixty-five stories; he was acquainted also from his youth with a hundred and eighteen apophthegms derived from the ancients, which he employed on special occasions. He died at last in the six- PERSIAN LETTERS 171 tieth year of his age. I say no more, stranger ; for how could I ever have done telling you all that he did and all that he saw ? " Paris, the 3d of the second moon of Gemmadi, 17 15. LETTER LXXXIX USBBK TO RhBDI, at VENICB LIBERTY and equality reign in Paris. Birth, worth, even military fame, however brilliant it may be, fail to distinguish a man from the crowd in which he is lost. Jealousy about rank is unknown here. They say that the chief man in Paris is he who has the best horses in,/his coach. ,/\A. great lord is a man who sees the king, who speaks with ministers, who has ancestors, debts, and pensions. If he can, in addition to this, veil his indolence under an appearance of business, or by a feigned attachment to pleasure, he considers himself the happiest of men. In Persia, we count none great except those on whom the~~monarch bestows some share in the government. Here there are people who are great by their birth, but they are not esteemed. The kings act like those skillful craftsmen who in executing their works employ always the simplest tools. Favor is the great goddess of the French ; and the _Min- ister js tne highr pritiHL whn-nffprs^ her many victims. Those who surround her are not dressed in white ; sometimes those who sacrifice, and sometimes the sacrifices, offer themselves up to their idol along with the whole people. Paris, the 9th of the second moon of Gemmadi, 17 15. 172 MONTESQUIEU'S T' LETTER XC* USBEK TO Ibben, at Smyrna HB desire of glory is in no sense different from the in- stinct of self-presCTvatiog__ common- to. _aU. creatures. We^^effl" 'to enlarge our existence when we are en- abled to extend it to the memory of others ; it is a new life which we acquire, and becomes as precious to us as that which we receive from heaven. But men are as unlike in their attachment to life as they are in their sensibility to fame. This noble passion is al- ways deeply engraved in their hearts ; but imagination and education modifies it in a thousand ways. This difference which exists between man and man, is even more marked among nations. It may be laid down as a maxim that in each state the desire' of glory ^increases and^ diminishes with the liberty, of •^> the suijject ; glory is never _the^ companion oi, .slavery .. ' A sensible man said to me the other day, "In most things we are much freer in France than in Persia ; and so we love glory more. This happy idea causes a Frenchman to d£ with pleasure and inclination what your Sultan ob- tains from Jiis subjects only by keeping constantly before them rewards and punishments. ' "Again, among us the prince is most jealous of the honor of the meanest of his subjects. For its support there exist highly esteemed tribunals : it is the sacred treasure of the nation, and the only one which the sovereign does not control, because to do so would defeat his own .interests. So that if a subject finds his honor wounded by his prince, whether by some preference, or by the slightest mark of contempt, he leaves at once his court, his employ- ment, his service, and retires to his estate. "The difference between the French troops and yours is this : among the latter, composed of slaves who are naturally cowards, the fear of death is overcome only by •This letter contains the germ of «the principles of the three gov- ernments, » a theory expounded by Montesquieu in the third book of V Esprit des Lois. w PERSIAN LETTERS 173 the fear of punishment, and this produces in the soul a new kind of terror which stupefies it ; the former, on the other hand, go where the blows are thickest, and fear is driven out by a feeling of satisfaction which is superior to it. " But the sanctuary of honor, of reputation, and of virtue, appears^o be established in republics, and in countries where^pne dare pronounce the word Fatherland. In Rome, in Athens, in lyacedsemonia, honor was thiT sole reward for the most distinguished services. A crown of oak or of laurel, a statue, a panegyric, was a magnificent recompense for a bat'tlS*gaihed~or a city taken. "There a man who had performed a brave deed thought- the deed itself sufficient recompense. He could not behold 1 one of his countrymen without a feeling of pleasure at 1 having been his benefactor ; he reckoned the number, of his ' services by that of ,, his fellow-citizens. Every man is capable of benefiting another, but he who contributes to , the. happiness of a whole community resembles the gods. *' Now, must not this noble emulation be quite extinct in ] the hearts of you Persians, with whom office and honor are I derived only from the caprice of the sovereign? Reputa- tion and virtue are looked upon as imaginary, if unaccom- panied by the favor of the prince with whom is their sole beginning and end. A man who enjoys public esteem is never sure that the morrow may not bring forth dishonor. To- day he is a general of the army ; to-morrow, perhaps, the prince makes him his cook, and leaves him with no hope of any other eulogy than that of having made a good ragout." Paris, the istli of the second moon of Gemmadi, 1715. I^ETTER XCI UsBEK TO THS Same, at Smyrna FROM the general passion which the French have for glory, there has been developed in the minds of indi- viduals a certain something which they call "jhe__pQint of honor " ; it is properly the characteristic of every profes- sion, but most marked in military men — theirs, indeed, is 174 MONTESQUIEU'S the point of honor par excellence. It would be very diffi- cult to make you understand what this is, because the idea is so foreign to us. Formerly the French, especially the aristocracy, obeyed no other laws than those of this point of honor, and by them they regulated the whole conduct of their lives. These laws were so severe, that without incurring a penalty more cruel than death, one might not, I do not say infringe them, but even evade their slightest punctilio. " When they had occasion to arrange their differences, al- most the only method of decision prescribed was the duel, which resolved all difficulties. The worst part of it, how- ever, was that frequently the trial took place between other parties than those immediately concerned. However little one man might know another, he had to enter into the quarrel, and pay with his person as if he himself had been enraged. He always felt himself honored by such a choice, and a distinction so flattering; and one who would have been unwilling to give four pistoles to a man to save him and all his family from the gallows, would make no difficulty in risking his life for him a thousand times. . This method of decision was badly enough conceived ; for / although a man might be more dexterous and stronger than another, it did not follow that he had more right on Vhis side. Accordingly the kings prohibited it under very severe penalties, but in vain ; * honor which wishes always to reign, revolts, and regards not the laws. On this account violence prevails among the French ; for these laws of honor require a gentleman to avenge him- self when he has been' insulted ; but, on the other hand, justice punishes him unmercifully when he does so. If one follows the laws of honor, one dies upon the scaffold ; if one follows those of justice, one is banished forever from the society of men: t^ijp , then, js thg harhf^rm^g .^itoni^jtiyp^ eiJier_to die^iOr_to_beiaiiworthy .^IJTjg- Paris, the iStb of the second moon of Gemmadi, 1715. * By an edict of I