PERSIAN LETTERS 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 desired in Asia, of being married to a beautiful woman, is here the source of no uneasiness. No one has ever to seek far for entertainment. A prince consoles him- self 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 spej^king, a, man who winks at his wife’s infidelities, does not lose respect; on the contrary, he is praised for his prudence: dishonour 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 themselwes 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 LETTER LVI Ushek to Ibben, at Smyrna Gaming is very common in Europe. To be a gamesfe?" is to have a position in society, although one is neither well-born, wealthy, nor a man of integrity: it entitles one, without any inquiry, to rank as a gentleman. All know that It is often a most untrustworthy creden- tial, but people have made up* their minds to be deceived. ^ Above all, the women follow it. ft is true that the attractions of a dearer passion prevent them from giving it 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 purpose, they have means suitable to all ages, from the tenderest 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 reason; he has prohibited the use of wine, which steals away man’s brains; by a special PERSIAN LETTERS law he has forbidden games of*’chance; and where the cause of peission could not be removed he has subdued it. Love among us brings with it no trouble, no frenzy: it is a languid passion which leavest our ^ souls serene: plurality of wives saves us front the dominion of women, and tempers the violence of our desires.
Paris, the loth of the moon of Zilhage, 1714.
LETTER LVII Usbek to Rhedi, at Venice 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 is not observed at all; you can form your own opinion with regard to the third.
But whatever the wealth of these dervishes may be, they always profess poverty, just as our glorious Sultan would never dream of renouncing his magnifi- cence and sublimity; and they are right, for their reputation as paupers prevents them from being poor.
The physicians and some of these dervishes, called confessors, 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 LETTER LVII your employment ill the community? ” “ Sir,” replied he, evidently well pleased with my question, “ I am a casuist.” “ A casuist,” exclaimed I. “ Dur- ing niy stay in France I have not heard of this profes- sion till now.” “ What! You do not know what a casuist is? Very well, listen; I will give you an explanation which will leave nothing to be desired. There are two descriptions of sin: that called mortal, which excludes the sinner for ever from Paradise; and venial sin, which certainly offends God, but does not excite Him to that pitch of wrath which can be satisfied only by depriving the.^nner of^felicity. Now, all our art consists in carefully distinguishing these two descriptions of sin; for, with the exception of some libertines, all Christians wish to go to heaven; but there is hardly one among them who would 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 satisfied: 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, ‘ Lord, I have fulfilled the conditions exactly; you cannot refuse to keep your word; as I have done no more than you have required, I expect no more from you than you have promised.’
“ Therefore, sir, we casuists are a necessity. This is not all, however; you shall learn something further. The deed does not constitute the crime, but the know- ledge of him who commits it: he who does what is Persian letters wrong, so long as he can believe that it is not so, has a safe conscience; and, as there are an immense number of ambiguous actions, a casuist can endue them with a degree of goodness which they ^ have jiot, simply by pronouncing them good; and, pro- vided he can convince people of their harmlessness, such sins lose their deadliness entirely.
“ This is the secret of the craft in which I have grown old; I have shown you its nicety: all things, even such as may seem most refractory, are suscep- tible of the required twist.”
“ Father,” said I, “ this is admirable; but how do you reconcile yourself with Heaven 1 If the Sophy had at his court a man who dealt with him as you deal with God, who played fast and loose with his commandments, and taught his subjects when they ought to obey them, and when they might break them, he would have him impaled at once. I salute you, master dervish,” and I left him without waiting for his reply.
Paris, the 23rd of the moon of Maharram, 1714.
LETTER LVIII Rica to Rhedi, at Venice My dear Rhedi, there are in Paris a great many trades. Some good-natured creature will offer you for a little money the secret of making gold. Another promises you the love of the spirits of the air, if you will see no women for a small trifle of thirty years.
Then you will meet with wizards so skilful, that they can tell you all your life, with the simple proviso of a quarter of an hour’s conversation with your servants.
LETTER LVIII Adroit women turn virginity into a flower, which withers and blooms again every day, and is gathered for the hundredth time with more anguish than the first.1 There are other women as skilful, who, repairing, by the force of their art all the ravages of time, know how to restore to a face beauty enough to strike one blind, and even to summon a woman from the very end of life’s jpurney back to its tender youthful opening.
All these people live, or seek a livelihood, in this great city, the mother of inve»ition. • The incomes of the citizens cannot be farmed: they consist only in skill and industry: each has his own, and makes the best of it.
He who would wish to count the dervishes who run after the revenue of some mosque, might as well attempt to number the sands of the sea, or the slaves of our monarch.
An infinite number of professors of languages, of arts, and of sciences, teach what they do not know; and their talent is not by any means despicable; for mucl> less wit is required to exhibit one’s knowledge, than to teach what one knows nothing of.
One cannot die here, except suddenly: death is left no other method of exercising his power; because, in every hole and corner, people are ready with infallible cures for every imaginable disease.
All the shops are hung with invisible nets, in which the customers are snared. Sometimes, however, one gets off with a good bargain. A shopgirl will wheedle a man for a stricken hour, and all to make him buy a packet of tooth-picks.
Every one who goes from this city, leaves it a warier man than when he entered; by dint of throw- PERSIAN LETTERS ing away his means on others, fie learns how to keep it to himself — the only benefit a stranger carries away from this sorceress of a city.
Paris, the loth of the moon of Saphar, 1714.
LETTER LIX Rica to Usbek, at * * The other day I visited a house, where the company was of the most miscellaneous description. I found the conversation monopolised by two old women, who had laboured in vain all morning to rejuvenate themselves. “ I must say,” remarked one of them, " that the men of to-day are very different from those we knew in our youth: they were refined, courteous, obliging; but now, I find their coarseness intoler- able.” " All is altered,” said h man, who appeared to be crippled' with gout. ” Things are not as they used to be forty years ago. People were healthier; affairs went well; and everybody was cheerful; nobody asked for anything better than to dance and sing. Now, you won’t see a single cheerful face.” A moment after, the conversation turned to politics. " ’Sdeath! ” said an old lord; “ the state is no longer governed. Where will you find now a minister like M. Colbert? I knew him well, M. Colbert; he was a friend of mine; he always made them pay me my pension before it was due: he was such a capital financier! Everybody was comfortable; but now I am ruined.” ” Sir,” said an ecclesiastic, ” you are speaking of the most wonderful period of our in- vincible monarch’s reign: could anytliing be more magnificent than what he then did to extirpate LETTER LX heresy? ” ^ " And ^oes the abolition of duelling count for nothing? ” * asked a self-satisfied man who had not yet spoken. “ A most judicious remark,” whisbered some one in my ear. " That man is delighted with the duelling law; and he observes it so faithfully, that six months ago he took a sound drubbing, rather than violate it.”
It seems to me, Usbek, that our opinions are always influenced by a secret application to ourselves. I am not surpiised that negroes paint the devil with a complexion of dazzling whiteness, and their gods as black as coal; that the Venus of certain races has breasts that hang down to her thighs; and finally, that all idolaters have represented their gods in the likeness of men, and have ascribed to them aU their own passions. It has been very well said, that if triangles were to make to themselves gods, they would give them three sides.
My dear Usbek, wflen I behold men, mere crawlers on this atom, the earth, which is buf a point in the universe, proposing themselves as exact models for Providence, I know not how to harmonise such extravagance with such littleness.
Paris, the i.jth of the moon of Saphar, 1714.
LETTER LX Usbek to Ibben, 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. Exactly what they do in Persia: 1 The Revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685.
* Edicts of 1654 and of 1679.
PERSIAN LETTERS nothing is liker an Asiatic Jfew than a European one.
They exhibit among the Christians, as among ourselves, an invincible attachment to their religion, amounting to folly. ' ihe 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 hef daughters have treated her, she ceases not to glory in having brought them forth: she has made use of both of them to encircle the whole earth, just as her venerable age embraces all time.
The Jews therefore regard themselves as the foun- tain 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 biiith 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 Europe 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 * Voltaire, in his article on the Jews in the “ Philosophical Dictionary," has reproduced this idea of Montesquieu’s with- out acknowledging it.
LETTER LXI that of the king. They have realised that zeal for the advancement of religion is different from a due attachment to it; and that in order to love it and fulfil its behests, it is not necessary to hate and perse- cutii 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 be- tween Mali and Abubeker,^ leaving God to decide the 0 merits of these holy prophets. I would have them honoured by acts of veneration and respect, and not by foolish preferences. Let seek to merit their favour, 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.
LETTER LXI Ushek to Rhedi, at Venice 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 condition, and they are right. However, it has its disadvantages: although we are in a measure separated from the world, yet a 1 Abu Bckr, fathcr-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, PERSIAN LETTERS thousand things require our pr^ence in it; and in this way we have a very difficult part to fill.
“ Worldly people are truly astonishing: they can endure neither our praise nor our blame; if we disire to admonish them, they think us ridiculous; ff to commend them, they regard us as undignified. Noth- ing 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 imcertainty 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 them- selves up to all their fancies, dropping them or pursu- ing them, according to their felicity, succeed much better.
“ This is not all. We cannot preserve in the world that happy peaceful state which'is so loudly praised. As soon as we appear there, we are forced into argu- ment: for example, we have to undertake to prove to a man who does not believe in God, the efficacy of prayer; or the necessity of fasting, to another >,vho all his life has denied the immortality 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 Europeans, anxious to improve human nature, were to try to change the Ethiopian's skin. We disturb the state, and torment ourselves to enforce points of religion which are not fundamental; we are like that conqueror of China, who drove his subjects to a general revolt, by insisting that they should cut their hair or their nails.
LETTER LXII LETTER LXII “ The zeal which ^e have to secure the fulfilment of the duties of our holy religion on the part of those over whom we are placed, is often dangerous, and canrlot be accompanied by too much prudence. An emptiror, called Theodosius, put to the sword all the inhabitants of a certain town, even to the women*Tnd children. Immediately afterwards, as he was about to enter a church, a bishop, Ambrose by name, shut the doors against him as a sacrilegious murderer: in doing so he performed an heroic action. This emperor, having shortly done the penance* which such a crime required, and being admitted jpto the church, the same bishop made him come from among the priests with whom he had seated himself: that was the action of a fanatic. 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 Rcbiab, 1714.
LETTER LXII Zelis to Usbek, at Paris Your daughter having attained her seventh year, I have judged it time to remove her to the inner apart- ments of the seraglio, and not to wait till she should be ten to entrust 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 PERSIAN LETTERS consecrate them, to the seraglib, 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 nothi^ig to the gentle influences of habit?
vve are in vain told of the state of subjection in which nature has placed us. It is not enough to make us realise this; we must be made to practise submis- sion, in order that we may be upheld at that critical time when the passions begin to awaken, and that we may learn voluntary subordination.
Were we onl^ attached to you by duty, we might sometimes 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 inter- vened.
Nature, diligent in the service of men, has been no niggard in her •dowry of desire; to women also she has not been unkind, and has destined us to be the living instruments of the enjoyment of our masters; she has set us on fire with passion in order that J^hey 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 thou- sand pleasures unknown to you. My imagination has laboured without ceasing to make me conscious of their worth; I have lived, and you. have only lan- guished.
Even in this prison where you keep me I am freer than you. You can only redouble your care in LETTER LXIII guarding me, that T may rejoice at your uneasiness; and your suspicions, your jealousy, your annoyance, are so many marks of your dependence.
CJontinue, dear Usbek, to have me watched night andiday; take no ordinary precautions; increase my happiness in assuring your own; and know, that I dread nothing except your indifference.
The Seraglio at Ispahan, the 2nd of the first moon of Rebiab, 1714.
LETTER* LXIII, Rica to Usbek, 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 malce you forget the whole universe.
For myself, my life moves on pretty much as it did whwi 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 learnt 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 con- strained; we do not see people as they are, but as they is.-s PERSIAN LETTERS are obliged to be; in that slavei^ of heart and mind, it is only fear that utters a dull routine of words, very different from the language of nature which expresses itself so variously.
Dissimulation, that art so practised and so n/;ces- sary with us, is here unknown: they saj' everything, see everything, and hear everything; hearts are as open as faces; in manners, in virtue, even in vice, one detects always a certain artlessness.
In order to gratify women a talent is necessary different from that other gift which pleases them still more; it consis^ts in a ^ort of playfulness of mind, which entertains them, as it seems to promise them every moment what one cannot perform except occasionally.
This gaiety 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 amb&ssador. Professions appear ridiculous only in proportion to the profes- sional 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.
LETTER LXIV The Chief of the black Eunuchs to Usbek, at Paris I CANNOT tell you, magnificent lord, how deeply per- plexed I am. Appalling disorder and confusion i Drawing-room we would say to-day. In the eighteenth century it was in their elegant cabinets de toilette that ladies received visitors.
LETTER LXIV prevail in the seraglift: 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 thisitime of licence, and I am nothing but a name in the seraglio.
There is not one of your wives who does not deem herself 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 moment that long-sufferipg patience, with which, nevertheless, I have had the misfortune to dis- please them all: my prudence, 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, magnificent lord, the cause of all these disorders? It is in your heart alohe, 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 thek complaints and 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 independent 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 concu- bines. Judging from my grave and taciturn air, that I would be an acquisition 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 con- fidence of my masters. I entered the seraglio, to me PERSIAN LETTERS PERSIAN LETTERS a new world. The first eunuchf, the sternest man I have ever known, governed there with undisputed sway. Nothing was ever heard of divisions or of quarrels: profound silence reigned ever3rwhere i all these women were put to bed at the same hour/i and WStkciied 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 in- expressibly careful; the j^east 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 favour 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 recognised my genius, he regarded me with favour, 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 rapidly in his con- fidence that he went the length of entrusting me with the keys of those dreadful places, which he had guarded for so long a time. It was under this great master that I learnt the difficult art of commanding, and that I was formed according to the maxims of an LETTER LXIV inflexible governmeftt: I studied under him the he^rt of women; he taught me to take advantage of their weaknesses, and not to be dismayed by their arr(%ance. Often he amused himself by watching me drivi| their obedience to the very last verge; he then made them return gradually, and required thaT*! tor 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 penetration. He read their thoughts and their dis- scmblings: their studied gestures, their made-up looks, concealed nothing from him? He knew all their most hidden actions, their most secret words. He obtained his information by making them tell on eaclkother; 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 attention 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 PERSIAN LETTERS obeyed, and eight days will see 'order take the place ot confusion: this, your glory demands and your safety requires.
Your Seraglio at Ispahan, the 9th of the first moon of Rebiab, 1714.
LETTER LXV Usbek to his Wives, at the Sercglio at • Ispahan I UNDERSTAND ^hat the.seraglio at Ispahan is in dis- order, 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 harmonise that behaviour 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 honour are irksome to you.
Change your behaviour then, I beg you; and see. to it that I may be able still to reject the proposals LETTER LXVI which have been matle to me against your freedom and^your tranquillity.
For I wish you to forget that I am your master, and to bl remembered only as your husband.
Paris, the 5th of the moon of Chahban, 1714.
LETTER LXVI Rica to * * * People are very much devoted to the sciences here, but I question if they are very learned. He who, as a philosopher, doubts of all, dare deny nothing as a theo- logian; the inconsistent 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 immc^talise 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 remember for ever 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 l«wn: they are not one whit superior to the com- positor, whose type-setting may be called book-making i6z L PERSIAN LETTERS if manual labour is all. I wouM have original books respected; and it seems to me a species of profana- tion, to take from them the matter of which they are composed, as if from a sanctuary, and expose 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: }mu have produced a masterpiece!
I write you, * * *, 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.
Paris, the 8th of the moon of Chahban, 1714.
LETTER LXVII Ibhen to Usbek, at Paris Three 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 ever3rwhere; the heart is a native of all lands: what should hinder a generous nature from forming attachments? I confess, I respect old LETTER LXVII friendships; but I ifhi 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 t|ie same strong liking for virtuous people^ the same pity, or I should say the same love, for the wretched, and the same esteem for those whom pros- perity has not blinded. That is my character, Usbek: wherever I find men, I choose friends.
There is here a Guebre ^ who believe, after you, holds the chief place in my heart: he is the very soul of honour. Special reasons haR^^e obliged him to retire to this town, where, with his beloved wife, he fives peacefully on the earnings of an honest trade. A generous temper has distinguished him all his fife; and although he prefers obscurity, 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 unknown to you.
Here you wUl 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 bom among the Guebres, whose religion is perhaps the oldest in the world. My misfortunes