On entering I saw a grave-looking man, who walked up and down in the midst of a prodigious number of volumes which surrounded him. I approached him, PERSIAN LETTERS and asked him to tell me what bocvks those were which I sow better boimd than others. " Sir,” he replied, " I live here in a strange land, where I know no one. Many people ask me similar questions; but you can easily understand how I cannot read all these books to satisfy them; my'’librarian will tell you all you wish, for he employs himself night and day in deciphering all you see here; he is a good-for-nothing, and is a great expense to us, because he dbes np work for the convent. But I hear the refectory bell. Those who, like me, are at the head of a community, ought to be foremost in all its exercised.” With that, the monk pushed me out, shul the door, and vanished from my sight as if he would have flown.
Paris, the 2ist of the moon of Rhamazan, 1719.
LETTER CXX^IV Jiica to the Same Ylsterday I returned to the same library, and met a man very different from him whom I had seen the first time. His manner was simple, his countenance intelligent, and his address most courteous. As soon as he understood my desire, he set himself to satisfy it, and even, as I was a stranger, to instruct me.
“ Good father,” said I, " what are those large volvTies which fill all that side of the library? ” “ These,” sai^ he, “ are interpretations of the Scrip- tures.” " What a quantity there are! ” rejoined I; “ the Scriptures must have been very obscure formerly, and cannot fail to be very obvious now. Do any doubts still remain? Are there any points left in dispute? ” ” Any, good heavens! any! ” cried he; " there are almost as many as there are lines.” " In- LETTER CXXXIV deed! ” said I; ‘^then what have all these authors done? ” " These authors,” he replied, ” did ^ot search the Scriptures for what ought to be believed, but for what they themselves believed; they did not regard the Scriptures as a work containing doctrines which they were bound to accept, ^(Ut as a work which might sanction their own ideas; therefore it is that thty have corrupted its meaning, and twisted every text. It is country which all sects invade as if bent on pillage; it is a battlefield on which hostile nations encounter each otheu in endless engagements, attacking and skirmishing in every possible manner.
“ Close to these you see books of asceticism and devotion; then books of morality, much more useful; theological tomes, doubly unintelligible, on account of the matter discussed, and the manner of treatment; and the works of the mystics, that is to say, of pas- sionate-hearted devotees.” “ Ah, my father! ” said I, " stay a moment; tell me about these mystics.” “ Sir,” said he, “ devotion warms? a heart inclined to passion, and the heat mounting to the brain, prod*ices ecstasies and raptures. This is the delirium of devo- tion,• often it develops, or rather degenerates into quietism: you must know that a quietist is nothing else than a madman, a devotee, and a libertine, all in one.
" There are the casuists, who expose the secrets of the night; who form in their fancy all the rr\gnsters which the demon of love can produce, collect them, compare them, and make them the everlasting subject of their thought^; happy are they, if their hearts do not take part in them, and if they them- selves do not become accomplices in the many de- baucheries they describe with such simplicity and directness!
PERSIAN LETTERS “You see, sir, that I think freely, and tell you all I i’link. I am naturally artless, and more so with you who are a stranger, desirous of information, and to know things as they are. If I wished, I could speak of all this with admiration, and be for ever saying, ‘ It is divine, it i^'worthy of all reverence, it is truly marvellous! ’ And there would happen one of two things: either I would deceive you, or I would Idwer myself in your regard.” ', There we stopped; some business called away the dervish, and interrupted our conversation till the morrow.
Paris, the 23rd of the moon of Rhamazan, 1719.
LETTER CXXXV Rica to the Same I RETURNED at th'e appointed time; and my friend ledf^me to the very spot we had left. “ Here,” he said, “ are the grammarians, the glossers, and the commentators.” “ Father,” said I, “ have hot all these people been able to dispense with common sense? ” " Yes,” said he, " they have; and yet it does not appear, and their works are not a penny the worse, which is very convenient for them.” " Trvf,” said I; “ and I know plenty of philosophers who would do well to occupy themselves with sciences of this kind.”
" There,” continued he, “ are the orators who can convince people without employing reason; and the geometers, who compel a man to be convinced in spite of himself, and conquer him by sheer force.
“ Here are metaphysical books, which deal with LETTER CXXXV very lofty concerns Jndeed, and in which the infinite meets one at every turning; books of physics, whieh detect nothing more marvellous in the economy of the vast universe, than in the simplest machine of our craftsmen.
“ Books of medicine, those nnibnuments of the frailty of nature and of the power of art, which when the^ treat even of the slightest disorders make us tremble by bringing the idea of death home to us; but which when they discuss the power of remedies make us feel as secure as if we'were immortal.
“ Near these are the boftks of anatomy, which do not so much contain descriptions *of the parts of the human body, as the barbarous names which have been given them — neither likely to cure the patient of his disease nor the physician of his ignorance.
" Here are the alchemists, who inhabit now the hospital, now the macThouse, dwellings equally suitable for them.
“ Here are books of science, or* rather of occult ignorance; of such are those which contain any ki«d of sorcery — execrable according to most people; in my opinion contemptible. Such also are the books of judicial astrology.” “ Wliat do you say, father? The books of judicial astrology! ” I cried with enthusiasm. ‘‘ These are the books we make most of in Persia. They rule all the actions of our lives, and determine us in all our undertakings: in fact,«the astrologers are our spiritual fathers, and more, for they take part in the government of the state.” ” If that is so,” said he, ” you live under a yoke much heavier than that of reason. Yours must be the strangest of all governments: I pity from my heart a family, and above all a nation, which permits the planets to have such ascendancy over them.” " We PERSIAN LETTERS make use of astrology,” replied “ just as you make use of algebra. Every nation has its proper science, according to which it guides its policy. All the astrologers together have never committed so many follies in Persia, as a single algebraist has done here. Do you think Kiat the fortuitous concourse of the stars is not as sure a guide as all the fine reasoning of your system-monger? ^ If the votes on that subject were counted in France and 'in Pprsia, astrology would have good reason to triumph; you would see the schemers properly humbled, from which how disastrous a corollary might be deduced against them! ” Our dispute was interrupted, and I had to leave him.
Pans, the 26th of the moon of Rhamazan, 1719.
LETTER CXXXVI Rica to the Same At our next interview, my learned instructondook me into a separate room. ” Here,” said he, " are the books of modern history. First of all, there arc the historians of the Church, and of the Popes; books which I read for instruction, but which often produce injiae an opposite effect.
‘‘ There are the books of those who have written of the decline of the great Roman empire, which was formed from the ruins "of so many monarchies, and from the destruction of which there sprang as many again. An infinite number of barbarous nations, as unknown as the countries which they inhabited, 1 Law, the banker.
LETTER CXXXVI suddenly appeared,, overran the Roman empire, ravaged it, cut it to pieces, and founded all iire kingdoms which you now see in Europe. These races were not altogether barbarians, because they were free; but they became so afterwards, as the most part of them, having submitted t8 absolute power, lost fhat sweet freedom, so conformable to reason, to humanity, and to nature.
‘‘ There yov see* the historians of the German empire, which is but a shadow of the Roman one; but which is, I believe, the ortly power on earth un- weakened by faction, and f believe also, the only one which grows stronger from its losses, and which, tardy in profiting by success, becomes invincible in defeat.
“ Here are the historians of France, who show us to begin with the power of kings taking shape; then we see it perish twice, and reappear only to languish through many ages; but, insensibly- gathering strength and built up on all sides, it achieves its final stage: like those rivers which in their course lose their wattt's, or hide them under the earth; then reappearing again, swollen by the streams which flow into them, rapidly draw along with them all that opposes their passage.
“ There you see the Spanish nation issuing from some mountains; the Mohammedan princes over- come as gradually as they had conquered quickly: many kingdoms joined in one vast monarchy, which became almost the only one; until, overborne by its own greatness and its fictitious wealth, it lost its strength and even its reputation, preserving only its original pride.
“ These, again, are the historians of England. Here you may see liberty flaming up again and again PERSIAN LETTERS from discord and sedition; the, prince, always totter- kip upon an immovable throne; a nation impatient, but prudent in its rage; and which, mistress of the sea (a thing unheard-of before), combines commerce with power.
" Near by are'the historians of that other queen of the sea, the Republic of Holland, so respected in Europe, and so feared in Asia, where its merchants behold many a king bow tto th,e dust before them.
" The historians of "Italy show you a nation once mistress of the world, nBw the common slave; its princes disunited and weak, with no other attribute of sovereignty than an ineffectual policy.
" There are the historians of the republics: of Switzerland, which is the type of liberty; of Venice, resourceless but for its own thrift; and of Genoa, superb only because of its buil<iings.
" And here are Vhose of the north — among others, of Poland, which*'makes such a bad use of its liberty ai.d of the right it possesses of electing its kings, that it would seem to be its intention thereby to console its neighbours which have lost both the one‘knd the other.”
Thereupon we separated until next day.
Paris, the 2nd of the moon of Chalval, 1719.
LETTER CXXXVII r Rica to the Same Next morning he took me to another room. " Here,” he said, " we have the poets; that is to say, those authors whose business it is to shackle common sense, LETTER CXXXVII and to smother reasoji with embellishment, as women were formerly buried under their ornaments jewellery. You must know them; they are not uncommon in the east, where a hotter sun seems to give new heat even to the imagination.” ^ “ There are the epic poems.” “ jffti! and what are epic poems? ” “ Indeed,” said he, “I don’t know; critics say that there were never more than two, and that the others, whi^h go by the name, are not epics: that, too, I know nothing about. They say, besides, what is still more surprising, tTiat it is impossible to make more.* * “ Here are the dramatic poets, *which are, in my opinion, the best of all, and the masters of passion. There are two kinds; the comic dramati.-.ts, who move us so agreeably, and the tragic dramatists, who rouse our passions and shake our dispositions.
‘‘ And here are the lyric poets, whom I despise as much as I esteem the others, and’who have reduced art to the production of melodious itonsense.
“ Then come the authors of idylls and eclogiws, which charm even courtiers, who imagine that they receive trom them a feeling of serenity which they do not possess, and that they are brought face to face with the pastoral life.
“ But of all the authors we have passed in review, here are the most dangerous: those, namely, who ^ Like Pascal, Montesquieu despised poetry, although he liked plays. Voltaire, having been taken to task concerning his attacks on Montesquieu, replied, " He is guilty of /t’se- po^sie."
» M. Meyer, in his " litudes de critique ancienne et moderne," detects here an allusion to Voltaire’s " Henriade," the beginning of which was already circulating in manuscript. This is not impossible, as Montesquieu had no great regard for Voltaire.
PERSIAN LETTERS forge epigrams, little, sharp dart?, which make a deep cSi>^d incurable wound.
“ Here you see the romances, whose authors are a sort of poet, and who are as extravagant in their wit as they are outrageous in their treatment of passion: they spend theiV lives seeking nature and never finding it: their heroes are about as natural as winged dragons and hippogriffs.” ' " I have seen,” said I, “ som6 of your romances, and if you could see ours, you would be yet more disgusted. They are ds unnatural as yours, and, on account of our manner^; excessively tedious; it takes ten years of devotion before a lover may be allowed as much as to see the face of his mistress. Yet the authors are compelled to conduct their readers through these wearisome preliminaries. As it is impossible that incidents should be endlessly varied, they have recourse to an artifice worse than the evil they would remedy; I mean the introduction of prodigies. I am ‘sure you would not approve of a sotoeress causing an army to spring out of the earth, or of a hero destroying single-handed a hundred thousand men. Yet such are our romances; the repetition of these dull adventures tires us out, and these absurd marvels disgust us. ’ Paris, the 6th of the moon of Chalval, 1719.
LETTER CXXXVIII t Rica to Ibben, at Smyrna Ministers succeed and destroy each other here like the seasons; during three years I have seen the financial system change four times. To-day taxes are LETTER CXXXVIII levied in Turkey and Persia, as they were levied by the founders of these empires; a state of affairs different from that which exists here. It is true that we do not set about it so intelligently as the people of the west. We imagine that there is no more differ- ence between the administration ’of the revenues of a prince and the fortune of a private person, than there is between counting a hundred thousand tomans and counting ionly'*a hundred; but the matter is very much more delicate and mysterious. It requires the greatest geniuses to work night and day, inventing endless new schemes with* all the pains of travail; they must listen to the advice of a multitude of people, who, unasked, meddle in their affairs; they have to retire and live shut up in closets inaccessible to the great, and worshipped by the small; they must always have their heads full of important secrets, miraculous plans, and new systems; and, being absorbed in thought, it behoves tllem to be deprived of the use of speech, and sometimes even of the ability to be polite.
No sooner had the late king died, than they thought of setting up a new administration. They felt that things were in a bad way; but knew not how to bring about a better state. They did not believe in the unlimited authority of the preceding ministers; they wished the power to be divided. For that purpose five or six councils were created, and that minfetry was perhaps the wisest of all those which have governed France; it did not last long, and neither did the good which it brought to pass.
France, at the death of the late king, was a body overcome by a thousand disorders: N * * * ‘ took the knife in hand, cut away the useless flesh, and I The Duke of Noailles.
PERSIAN LETTERS applied some local remedies.,.But there always resfiiained an internal disease. A stranger came who undertook its cure.^ After many violent remedies, he imagined he had put it into good condition, whereas it had only become unhealthily stout.
All who were rith six months ago are now paupers, and those who lacked bread are rolling in wealth. These two extremities never before approached so near. This foreigner has turne'd thp state as an old-clothes man turns a coat; he causes that to appear uppermost which was‘ under, and that which was above he places beneath. * What unexpected fortunes, incredible even t6 those who made them! God creates men out of nothing with no greater expedition. How many valets are now waited on by their fellows, and may to-morrow be served by their former masters!
The oddest things happen as a result of all this. Lacqueys, who made their fortune in the last reign, brag to-day of their birth: they avenge themselves upon those who *have just doffed their livery in a cel lain street,* for all the contempt poured out upon themselves six months before; they cry with all their might, " The nobility is ruined! What a chaotic condition the state is in! What confusion of ranks! Only nameless people now make fortunes! ” And these nameless ones, you may be sure, will take their revenge on those who come after them; in thirt j years as people of quality they will make suffi- cient noise in the world.
Paris, the ist of the mooij of Zilcade, 1720.
1 Law.
2 Rue Quincampoix, at that time the rendezvous of stock- brokers.
LETTER CXXXIX LEfTER CXXXIX Rica to the Same Here is an example of conjugal affection, wonderful in any woman, but much more s&*in a queen. The Queen of Sweden, ^ having quite made up her mind thab the prince,* her husband, should share the government w|th htr, in order to overcome all diffi- culties sent to the Assembly a declaration resigning the regency, provided they elected him.
Some sixty years ago ''or more another queen, called Christina, abdicated the throne in order to devote herself entirely to philosophy. I know not which of these two examples one ought to admire most.
Although I entirely approve of every one main- taining himself firml^ in the station in which nature has placed him, and although I canaot praise the weak- ness of those who, feeling themselves inferior to their position, leave it by what is little short of desertion, yet I am much struck with the magnanimity of these twt) prificesses, which enabled the mind of the one and the heart of the other to rise superior to their fortunes. Christina aspired to knowledge at an age when others think only of enjoyment; and the other wished to enjoy her power only that she might place her entire happiness in the hands of her noble husband.
Paris, the 27tli of the moon of Maharram, 1720.
1 Ulrica-Eleonora, sister of Charles XII., elected Queen of Sweden by the people.
* Frederic of Hesse-Cassel.
PERSIAN LETTERS LETTER CX»L Rica to Usbek The Parliament of Paris has just been banished to a little town called Pontoise.^ The Council ordered it to register or approve a declaration dishonouring to it; and it registered it in a manner which dishonqured the Council.
Other parliaments of the kingdom arc threatened with similar treatment.
These assemblies are always detested; they approach kings only to tell them disagreeable truths, and while a crowd of courtiers are never done repre- senting to them that the people are quite happy under their rule, the parliaments come giving the lie to flattery, and carrying to the foot of the throne the tearful complaints committed tq them.
When it is necessary to bear it into the presence of princes, truth, m^ dear Usbek, is a heavy burden! It ought therefore to be remembered that those who dd so are constrained to it, and that they never would have made up their minds to a course so disagreeable and distressing for those who undertake it, if they were not compelled by their duty, their respect, and even by their affection.
Paris, the 21st of the first moon of Gemmadi, 1720.
LETTER CXLI Rica to the* Same, at * * * I WILL visit you at the end of the week. How pleasantly the time will pass in your company 1 1 The Parliament, having opposed Law’s system, was exiled to Pontoise by the Regent the:jist Qf July 1720.
LETTER CXLI Some days ago, I w^s presented to a lady of the court who had taken a fancy to see myforeign figure. I foinKfl her beautiful, deserving the affection of our monarch, and a high rank in the sacred place where his heart reposes.
She asked me a thousand questions about the customs of the Persians, and the ^yle of life led by the Persian women. The life of the seraglio did not appear to her taste, and she displayed repugnance at the idea of one m5n being shared among ten or a dozen women. She could not think of the man’s happiness without envy, nor df the condition of the women without compassiofi. As she loved reading, above all the works of the poets and romance-writers, she desired me to talk to her of ours. What I told her redoubled her curiosity; she begged me to trans- late for her a portion of one of those which I have with me. I did so, and sent to her, some days after, a Persian tale. Perhaps you will be amused to see it in my translation.
In the time of Sheik Ali-Khan, there lived in Pereia a woman called Zulema; she knew the whole of the sacred Koran by heart; not a dervish among them understood better than she the traditions of the holy prophets; the Arab scholars never said anything so mysterious that she could not comprehend all its meaning; and she united to all this learning a cast of mind so sprightly, that those who heard her^talk could hardly make out whether she meant to amuse or to instruct them.
Once, while she was with her companions in a room of the seraglio, one of them asked her what she thought of the next life; and if she held to that ancient tradi- tion of our doctors which declares that Paradise was made for men alone.
PERSIAN LETTERS “ It is the general opinion,” sh^said; " nothing has left undone to degrade our sex. There is even a race scattered throughout Persia, called the Jews, who maintain, by the authority of their sacred writings, that we have no souls.
" These most "insulting opinions have no other origin than the vanity of men, who wish to carry their superiority even beyond this life, forgetting that at the last day all creatures will appear^ before God as nothing, and that no one will have any advantage over another except that which virtue gives.
" God will be imparticK in His rewards: and as those men who haie led a good life, and have made a good use of the power which they have over us here below, will be sent to a paradise full of beauties so celestial and ravishing, that were a mortal to see them, he would at once kill himself in his impatience to enjoy them; so virtuous women will enter into a delightful abode, where they will be surfeited with a torrent of pleasifre in the arms of godlike men who will be at their beck: each of them will have a seraglio in which these men will be sequestrated, with eunuchs, even more faithful than ours, to guard them.
“ I have read,” she continued, " in an Arab book, of a man called Ibrahim, who was insufferably jealous. He had twelve exceedingly beautiful wives, to whom he kjshaved in a most barbarous fashion; he had no faith in his eunuchs, nor in the walls of his seraglio; he kept them almost always under lock and key, shut up in their rooms, and uhable to see, or speak to, each other; for he was jealous even of an innocent friend- ship: all his actions were coloured by his brutal nature: a soft word was never heard to issue from his mouth; and he never gave them the slightest atten- LETTER CXLI tion, except to add something to the severity of their slavery.
“ One day when he had them all gathered together in an apartment of his seraglio, one, bolder than the rest, reproached him with his rnorose disposition. ‘ When one takes such strong measures to make him- self ^feared,’ she said, ‘ he always finds that he makes himself hated inste3,d. We are so miserable that we cannot help washing a change: others, in my place, would desire your death; I only desire my own; and as I can only hope to be sejjarated from you by death, it will be all the sweeter on tljat account.’ This speech, which should have softened him, sent him off into a paroxysm of anger; he drew his dagger, and plunged it into her breast. ‘ My dear companions,’ said she, with her dying breath, ‘ if Heaven has com- passion on my virtue, you will be avenged.’ With these words, she quitted this miserable life, and entered into the abode of bliss, wher§ women who have followed virtue, enjoy a happiness which never palls.
" At §rst she saw a pleasant meadow whose greenery was relieved with enamel of the brightest flowers: a river, the waters of which were purer than crystal, rolled througli it in a labyrinth of meanders. Then she entered a delightful wood, where the silence was broken only by the sweet songs of birds. Splendid gardens next opened on her view; on these natur? had bestowed her simple charm as well as all her magni- ficence. At last she came to g glorious palace prepared for her, and filled with heavenly men destined for her delight.
“ Two of them advanced to her at once and un- dressed her; others led her to the bath, and perfumed her with the sweetest essences: then they gave her PERSIAN LETTERS PERSIAN LETTERS ^rments infinitely richer than her old ones: after >rafc,h they led her into a spacious apartment, where was a fire made of odorous woods, and a table spread with a most exquisite repast. All things seemed to unite to ravish every sense: she heard on one side a strain of lofty music, all the more so as it throbbed with passion; on the other, she beheld the dances of these godlike men, exclusively devpted to her pleasure. Yet all these pleasures were only intended to lead her by degrees to pleasures yet more entrancing. They conducted her to her chamber; and, having been again undressed, sjie was laid in a sumptuous bed, where two men of exquisite beauty received her in their arms. Then was she in an ecstasy of delight; her raptures exceeded even her desires. ‘ I am trans- ported,’ she said; ‘ I should think myself dying, were I not certain that I am immortal. It is too much; release me; I am overcome by excess of pleasure. Ah! you restore ^a little tranquillity to my senses; I breathe again; I return to myself. Why have the lights been taken away? Why can I not still con- template your godlike beauty? Why, can I^not see...But, what do I talk of seeing? You make me glide once more into my former transports. Sweet heavens! how soothing is this darkness! What! I shall be immortal; and immortal with you! I shall be...No; respite a moment; for I see that you are Abt likely to ask it.’
“ After reiterated commands she was obeyed: but not until she seemed to wish it in good earnest. Droop- ing, she gave herself to repose, and slumbered in their arms. Two moments of sleep restored her strength, and she received two kisses which not only wakened her, but reawakened her passions. ‘ I am uneasy,’ she said; ' I doubt you love me no longer.’ It was a LETTER CXLl doubt in which she tad no desire to remain long, and she soon had from them explanations as complefe as she could desire. ‘ I see my mistake,' she cried; ‘ pardon me, pardon me, I will never doubt you again. You say nothing; but your actions prove it better than anything you could say; y^s, yes, I own it; no gne was ever loved so much. But, what is this! you contest which shall have the honour of convincing me! Ah! if* you vie with each other, if you join ambition to the pleasure of defeating me, I am lost; you will both be conquerors, and I, only, vanquished; but I will make you pa}^ for your victory.’
" Day alone put an end to ^ese delights. Her faithful and attached servants entered her chamber and caused the two young men to rise; they were reconducted by two old men to the rooms where they were kept for her, pleasure. She then rose, and appeared before her devoted court, first in the charms of a simple undress, and afterwafds apparelled in the most costly attire. The past night had increased her beauty; it had given greater brilliance to her «om- plexion, and a new attraction to her charms. The entire day was spent if! dances, concerts, feasts, games, and promenades; and it was noticed, that Anais withdrew from time to time, and fled to her two young heroes: after some precious moments with them, she returned to the company which she had left, the expression of her face growing more aiM more serene. At last, towards evening, they lost sight of her altogether: she had gone to shut herself up in her seraglio, where she wished, she said, to make the acquaintance of those immortal captives who were to live with her for ever. She therefore visited those apartments, the most retired and the most delightful, where she counted fifty slaves, miracles of manly PERSIAN LETTERS beauty; all night she went from room to room, rfecah/ing everywhere homage ever new, and ever the same.
" Thus the immortal Anais passed her life, now in the midst of glittering throngs, now in solitary delight; admired by a brilEant company, or adored by a single ardent lover: often she would quit an enchapted palace, to pass into a rural grotto: flowers seemed to spring up at her tread, and pleasures crowded round her.
" During more than eight days she spent her time in that happy mansion, always transported, and without ever passing a thought: she had enjoyed her happiness without knowing it, and without having had a single moment of that mental repose, in whicli the soul, if I may say so, takes account of itself, and listens to its own discourse in,, the silence of the passions.
" The pleasures df the blessed are so engrossing, that they seldom enjoy this freedom of spirit: tliere- fore'-it is that, being invincibly attached to present objects, they lose altogether the memory of things past, and have no longer any thought for that which they had known or loved in the other life.
“ But Anais, whose spirit was truly philosophical, had passed almost all her life in meditation; she had pushed her thought much further than one would have expecfc;d from a woman left to herself. The severe seclusion in which her husband had kept her, had left her no other enjoyment.,, " It was this strength of mind which had enabled her to despise the terror that had paralysed her com- panions, and death which was to be the end of her troubles and the beginning of her felicity.
" And so she recovered by degrees from the intoxica- LETTER CXLI tion of pleasure, and shut herself up alone in a room of her palace. She gave the rein to pleasing reflecti^a on her past condition and her present happiness; she could not help pitying the wretched lot of her com- panions: one can always sympathise with the miseries which one has shared. Anais did*iot confine herself, hov^ver, to compassion: so kindly disposed was she towards these unfortunate women, that she was constrained tc> aid them.
“ She ordered one of the young men who were with her to assume the figure ^f fier husband, go to his seraglio, master it, drive him out, and occupy his place until she recalled him.
“ The execution was prompt: he cut through the air, and arrived at the door of the seraglio of Ibrahim, who haj^pened to be away. He knocked; every door flew open; the eunuchs fell at his feet. He flew towards the apartments where the wives of Ibrahim were shut up. He had in passing snatched the keys from the pocket of that jealous monster, to whom he had made himself invisible. He entered, and Sur- prised the women first by his gentle and agreeable manner; and much more shortly after by the assiduity and the alacrity with which he embraced them. All were given cause to be astonished; and they would have taken it for a dream had there been less of reality about it.
" While these novel incidents were passing the seraglio, Ibrahim thundered at the door, announced himself, and stormed and shqpted. After having over- come many obstacles, he entered, to the great conster- nation of the eunuchs. He strode on, but recoiled like one dropped from the clouds when he saw the false Ibrahim, his perfect image, exercising all the liberties of a master. He called for help, and bade PERSIAN LETTERS PERSIAN LETTERS the eunuchs aid him to kill this,., impostor: but he was*Rot obeyed. Only one weak resource remained to him; and that was, to refer the matter to the judg- ment of his wives. In a single hour the false Ibrahim had corrupted all his judges. He was driven away, and dragged ignorhiniously out of the seraglio; and he would have been kUled a thousand times, if^ his rival had not ordered that his life should be spaled. Lastly, the new Ibrahim, remaining master of the field, proved himself more and more a worthy choice, and distinguished himself by feats before unknown. ‘ You are not like Ibrahim,’ said the women. ‘ Say rather that that impostor is not like me,’ replied the triumphant Ibrahim. ‘ How could any one deserve to be your husband, if what I do is insufficient.’
“ ‘ Ah! we shall be careful how we doubt,’ said the women: ‘ if you are not Ibral\im, it is enough for us that you have so well deserved to be him: you are more Ibrahim, in ohe day, than he was in the course of ten years.’ ‘ 'i’ou promise me, then,’ replied he, ‘ that you will declare in my favour against this impostor? ’ ‘ Never doubt it,' cried they with one voice: ‘ we swear to be for ever faithful to you: we have been deceived quite long enough: the coward did not suspect our virtue, he suspected only his own impotence: we see clearly that men are not all made like him; it is you without doubt whom they re- semttie: if you only knew how much you make us hate him! ’ ‘ Ah! I will often give you new occasions for hatred,’ replied the false Ibrahim; ‘ you do not yet know how great a wrong he has done you.’ ‘ We judge of his iniquity by the greatness of your revenge,’ they replied. ‘ Yes, you are right,’ said the godlike man; ‘ I have proportioned the punish- ment to the crime; and I am very glad that you are LETTER CXLI