1 Guebre, or infidel, the name applied to the fire-wor- shippers, descended from the immediate followers of Zoroaster. According to Dr. C. J. Wills, in his " Persia as It Is," there are oflly about 8000 Guebres left in Persia, and these are congre- gated at Yezd.
PERSIAN LETTERS began, when, at the age of sijf, love dawned in, me before reason, and I could not live without my s^;ter. My eyes were always fixed on her, and if she left me for a moment, she found me, on returning, bath'ed in tejars: each new day added not more to my ag^ 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 Moham- medans, 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 extinguish a flame, believed by him to be newly lit, but which was already at its height. Under pretext of a voyage, 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; for grief had made me cdlous. We arrived at Tiflis; my father, having entrusted my education to one of our relatives, left me, and returned home.
Some time after, I learned that, through the influ- ence 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 * A fabulous Cambyses, father of Hystaspes, or Gustaspes, King of Persia, under whom Zoroaster lived. Cambyses, under the name of Hohoraspes, and his son are referred to further on in this Idtter.
LETTER LXVII nev?r hope to see hfir again, her entrance into the har«n had made her a Mohammedan, and according to tne superstition of that religion she could only regard me with horror. Nevertheless, unable to live ^nger at Tiflis, tired of myself and of life, I returned to Ispahan. My first words to myTather 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 yolluted the ele- ments, 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 suffer! ” With these words I went away; and for two years I spent my life staring at the walls of the harem, and wonder- ing in which part of i*t 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 recognise her only by the sound of her voice. My emotion was over- PERSIAN LETTERS powering when I fovind myself so close to her, and yet so far away. I restrained myself, however, /dr I was watched. As for her, she seemed to shed a few tears. Her husband offered some kind of halting apology; but I treated him like the least pf 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! ” criec^l 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 you 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 honour him, ah 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 husband. ' 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 happiness; that not a day has passed in which I have not thought of you; that you have had a greater share in my marriage LETTER LXVII th^ you imagine, far it was the hope of seeing you ag«4n that won my consent to it. But this day, whiyh 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 cTuoubt 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 imable to continue the conversation, she left me, the most disconsolate of men.
Three or four days afterwards I asked to see my sister. The brutish eunuch would have been very glad to prevent 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 accompanied 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 ancestors 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 splendour which you seem to enjoy in this sumptuous house. In losing your religion, you have lost your liberty, your happiness, and that precious equality which is the honour of your sex. But there is something much worse behind; and that is, the thing which you are PERSIAN LETTERS PERSIAN LETTERS — ^not the wife, for that you camiot be, but the sljve of a slave, who has been degraded from humanil^.” " 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 religion, 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 Persia, and that it originated with the Persian empire, the beginnings of which are beyond human ken; that it is only chance that has intro- duced Mohammedanism here; that that sect has been established, not by the power of persuasion, but by, conquest. If our native princes had not keen weak, you would have beheld the worship of these 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, " although 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 1 The caste of hereditary priests under the Medes and Persians. Zoroaster reformed their religious doctrines and ceremonies.
LETTER LXVII elements.” " I perceive, my sister, that you have leai(ped 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 honour: they yielded only such inferior reverence as is'^ue 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, Zoroaster: 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 honoured the sun in the holy city of Balk; * 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 of 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 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 ^ The ancient Bactra. The Arch-mage resided there till the followers of Zoroaster were overcome by the Caliphs.
PERSIAN LETTERS can never fully express the joy* which I felt at these words; I believed myself, and actually saw my/elf, 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 somewhat accustomed to these delightful thoughts, I perceived that I was not so near my happi- ness, as I had on the first blush imagined, although I had overcome the chief obstacle in my path. It would be necessary to evade the watchfulness 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 time-piece which her father had left her; and that I should put inside it a file, to cut the lattice of the window which opened bn the street, and a knotted rope by which to descend; that thereafter 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, because she had not found a favourable opportunity. At length, on the sixteenth, I heard the rasping of the file: from time to time the work was interrupted, and in the intervals my dread was inexpre.ssible. After an hour’s labour, 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 motion- less. 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 neigh- bourhood which might have been so disastrous to us. We arrived before morning at the house of a Guebre, LETTER LXVII in /’a lonely place tt) which he had retired, living fniijally on the produce of his own labour. We did not^think it wise to stay with him, and by his advice we entered a dense forest, where we lodged in the hollow of an old oak, until the rumour of our flight had Hied away. We lived together in this out-of-the- way abode, unseen of any, telling our love over and over again to each other, and waiting' until the cere- mony 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 i*s 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 vigour 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, an^ 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 finding 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 de- PERSIAN LETTERS manding thirty tomans,* and '’would not bate a single coin. v Having gone to everybody, and having beggedfthe aid of both the Christian and the Turkish priests, I applied to an Armenian merchant: to him I sol^ my daughter and m5^elf for thirty-five tomans. I went to the Jews, gave them their thirty tomans, and carried the other five to my sister, whom I had 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 that they would not buy me for more.” “ What! ” cried she, ”« you have sold yourself? ” “ Yes,” replied 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 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 master. My sister was with him almost as soon as I. She threw herself 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: remember his life depends on me.” The Armenian, a humane man, was touched ^ A toman is equal to a little more than eighteen shillings.
LETTER LXVIII by our woes: " Ser^ me, both of you, with fidelity anc^ zeal, and I promise you that in a year I will giv^ 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 certainTETat^you will repay me that which I shall lose.” We both embraced his knees, and attended him on his journey. We comforted each other in our servile tasks; and I was delighted 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 practised successfully as a physician in that city. He lent me some money, with which I traded. Some business called me shortly after to Smyrna, where I established myself. I have lived there for six years in the enjoy- ment of the most amiable and agreeable 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 Armenian 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 Gemmadi, 1714.
LETTER LXVIII Rica to Usbek, at * * * The other day I dined at the house of a magistrate, who had often invited me. After we had talked of a variety 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; " cis we PERSIAN LETTERS 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 thSiii; and that is how our profession is nft so fatiguing as you supposed.” When I saw that he took the matter so carelessly, I continued, and said, " Sir, I have not seen your study.” " I believe you; for I have none. When I took this po*st, lacking the money to pay for it,‘ I sold my library. The book- seller who bought it, out ^f 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 retorted. “ It would not be a bad thing to guard yourself against their wiles. They have weapons with which to attack your justice: it would be well if you were in a condition 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 Chahban, 1714.
LETTER LXIX LETTER LXIX Ushek to Rhedi, at Venice You would never have dreamed that I could become a grciter metaphysician than I was. Such h the case, however; and you will be convinced of it, when you have waded through this flood of my philosophy.
The most seiisible of those philosophers, who have considered 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 attributes are often contradictory, and, being mutually destructive, cannct 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 excelj^ed, combined their selected charms into a picture of the loveliest of the goddesses. 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 limited except by Himself; He is His own law. Thus, although God is all-powerful. He can neither break His promises, nor deceive men. Often too. His impotence is not subjective, but objective; and that 1 Zeuxis, when he painted Helen for the Agrigentines.
PERSIAN LETTERS is the reason why He cannot change the nature of things. ' So, also, it is not so very wonderful that some o^ our learned men should have denied the infinite fore- knowledge of God, upon the principle that it is incom- patil5l6 vnth His justice.
However bold this idea may be, it is countenanced remarkably by metaphysics. According to meta- physical principles, it is impossible that God shotild foresee such things as depend upon the determination of free causes; because that which has not happened does not exist, and comequently, cannot be known; for nothing, having no properties, cannot be per- ceived: 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 selection only to use its liberty; in such a manner that God cannot foresee its choice, neither in its own action, nor in the opera- tion of objects upon it.
How could God foresee things which depend upon the determination of free causes? He could only see them in two ways: by conjecture, which is incom- patible 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 fore- knowledge, for it supposes that the mind is free, with a freedom, however, no greater than that of a billiard ball, which is at liberty to move when it is struck by another.
LETTER LXIX Do not think, however, that I wish to limit God’s knowledge. Since He directs the actions of His crea(ures according to His pleasure. He knows all that He wishes to know. But although He can see everything. He does not always make use of that powei: He generally leaves man the power to do a thing or to leave it alone, in order that he may be able to choose between right and wrong; and this is why God renounces the absolute authority which He has over the mind. 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 creatures 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.
Let me employ a comparison in a matter which transcends 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 foreknow- ledge: God appears throughout these writings as ignorant of the future determinations 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 command to be given by a being acquainted with the future determinations of men’s minds; for, in short, could such a being make His favour depend J77 M PERSIAN LETTERS on such conditions, without rendering it ridiculous? It is as if a man who was aware of the captur^ of Bagdad should say to another, " I will give ypu a hundred tomans if Bagdad is not taken.” ^ Would that not be a very sorry jest?
My de'ar Rhedi, why all this philosophy? (7 od is so far above us that we 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 us conscious of our own weakness. To humble ourselves continually, is to adore Him continually.
Paris, the last day of the moon of Chahban, 1714.
LETTER LXX Zelis to Usbek, at Paris SoLiMAN, whon» you love, has been driven desperate by an affront which he has just received. Three months ago a young giddypate, named Suphis, sought his daughter in marriage; he seemed satisfied with the girl’s appearance from the report and description given him by the 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, according 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 receive her unless her dowry were in- creased. Her relatives hastened from all quarters * This paragraph appeared first in the edition of 1754.
LETTER LXXI to arrange the matteF; 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 gidd3^ate rose ^n a rage, cut her face in several places, and, declaring 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.
The Seraglio at Fatme, the 9th of the first moon of Gemmadi, 1714.
LETTER LXXI 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 honour 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 physicians 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 their ancient lawgiver ^ has made the * Moses. — Deuteronomy, ch. xxii., v. 13-21.
PERSIAN LETTERS innocence or condemnation 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 / may she have ten eunuchs to guard her; may s/le be the honour 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 I And, to crown these wishes, may my eyes see her in all her glory!
Paris, the 3rd oh the moon of Chalval, 1714.
LETTER LXXII Rica to Ibben, a{ * * * 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; * 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 objec- 1 See Letter I., note i.
* Decisionnaire in the original, a word invented by Montes- quieu to describe a man who lays down the law upon every- thing.
LETTER LXXIII