Persian Letters. Montesquieu

said, “His ‘Esprit de Lois’ is the breviary of sovereigns.” The men of the French Revolution swore by him. Robespierre was parodying him when he said, “The principle of democratic government is virtue; the means of its establishment, terror;” and Napoleon honoured him by discarding him as an ideologist.

      France never had a wiser counselor, “his blood and judgment were so well commingled;” but he could not prevent the Revolution any more than Horatio could have saved Hamlet.

       JOHN DAVIDSON

      London

       September 1891

      == Some Reflections on the Persian Letters == ¹ Nothing in the Persian Letters has been found more attractive than the unexpected discovered of a sort of story, which can be followed easily from beginning to end. A chain of circumstance connects the various characters. In proportion as their stay in Europe is extended, the morals and manners of that part of the world appear to them less wonderful and odd; and the degree in which they are affected by the marvelous and the eccentric depends upon the difference in their dispositions. On the other hand, the Asiatic seraglio² becomes more disorderly the long Usbek remains away—that is to say, in proportion as frenzy increases and love abates.

      Another cause of the success of romances of this kind lies in the fact that events are described by the characters themselves as actually happening. This produces a sensational effect unattainable in the narrative of an outsider; and it is to this that the popularity of certain works which have appeared since the publication of the “Persian Letters” is mainly due.

      Although in the regular novel, digressions are inadmissible unless they themselves constitute a fresh romance, and argumentative discussion is altogether beside the mark, since the characters are not brought together for the purpose of chopping logic; yet, in the epistolary form, where accident selects the characters, and the subjects dealt with are independent of any design or preconceived plan, the author is enabled to mingle philosophy, politics, and morality with a romance, and to connect the whole by a hidden, and somewhat novel, bond.

      So great was the sale of the “Persian Letters” when they came out that publishers did their utmost to obtain sequels. They button-holed every author they met, and entreated him to write “Persian Letters.

      What I have just stated, however, should convince the reader that they do not admit of a sequel 3, still less of any admixture from the hand of another. ⁴

      Some remarks have been found by many people sufficiently audacious; but I beg them to consider the nature of the work. The Persians, who were to play so important a part in it, found themselves, transported, to all intents and purposes, into another world. It was therefore necessary for some time to represent them as ignorant and full of prejudices: attention was bestowed exclusively on the formation and development of their ideas. Their first thoughts must have been exceptional. ⁵ It seemed to the author that all he had to do was to endow them with singularity in as spirited a manner as he could; and to this end what was more necessary than to depict their state of mind in presence of whatever appeared to them extraordinary? Nothing was further from his thoughts than the idea of compromising any principle of our religion—he did not even suspect himself of the simplest indiscretion. What questionable remarks there are on religion will always be found united with feelings of surprise and astonishment, and not with any critical intention, still less with that of censure. Why should these Persians appear better informed when speaking of our religion, than when they discuss our manners and customs? And if they do sometimes find our dogmas singular, it is always a proof of their entire ignorance of the connection between those dogmas and other religious truths.

      The author advances this justification out of his love for these great truths, independently of his respect for the human race, whose tenderest feelings he certainly did not intend to wound. The reader is, therefore, requested not for one moment to regard the remarks referred to as other than the result of amazement in people who could not fail to be amazed, or as the paradoxes of men who were in no condition to be paradoxical. The reader should also observe that the whole charm of the work lies in the continuous contrast between the existing state of things and the remarkable, artless, or odd manner in which they are regarded. Beyond a doubt, the nature and design of the “Persian Letters” are so obvious that they can only deceive those who are inclined to deceive themselves.

Introduction (1721)

       Table of Contents

      I am not about to write a dedication, nor do I solicit protection for this work. It will be read, if it is good; and if it is bad, I am not anxious that it should be read.

      I have issued these first letters in order to gauge the public taste; in my portfolio I have a goodly number more which I may hereafter publish. ¹

      This, however, depends upon my remaining unknown: let my name once be published and I cease to write. I know a lady who walks well enough, but who limps if she is watched. ² Surely the blemishes of my book are sufficient to make it needless that I should submit those of my person to the critics. Were I known, it would be said, “His book is at odds with his character; he might have employed his time to better purpose; it is not worthy of a serious man.” Critics are never at a loss for such remarks, because there goes no great expense of brains to the making of them.

      The Persians who wrote those letters lodged at my house, and we spent our time together: they looked upon me as a man belonging to another world, and so they concealed nothing from me. Indeed, people so far from home could hardly be said to have secrets. They showed me most of their letters, and I copied them. I also intercepted some, mortifying to Persian vanity and jealously, which they had been particularly careful to conceal from me.

      I am therefore nothing more than a translator: all my endeavor has been to adapt the work to our taste and manners. I have relieved the reader as much as possible of Asiatic phraseology, and have spared him an infinitude of sublime expressions which would have driven him wild,

      Nor does my service to him end there. I have curtailed those tedious compliments of which the Orientals are lavish as ourselves; and I have omitted a great many trifling matters which barely survive exposure to the light, and ought never to emerge from the obscurity proper to “small beer.”

      Had most of those who have given the world collections of letters done likewise, their words would have disappeared in the editing. One thing has often astonished me, and that is, that these Persians seemed often to have as intimate an acquaintance as I myself with the manners and customs of our nation, an acquaintance extending to the most minute particulars and not un-possessed of many points which have escaped the observation of more than one German traveler in France. This I attribute to the long stay which they made, without taking it into consideration how much easier it is for an Asiatic to become acquainted with the manners and customs of The French in one year, than it would be for a Frenchman to become acquainted with the manners and customs of the Asiatics in four, the former being as communicative as the latter are reserved.

      Use and wont permits every translator, and even the most illiterate commentator, to adorn the beginning of his version, or of his parody, with a panegyric on the original, and to extol its usefulness, its merit, and its excellence. It should not be very difficult to divine why I have not done so. One very excellent reason may be given: it would simply be adding tediousness to what is in itself necessarily tedious, namely, a preface.

      Letter 1

       Usbek to his friend Rustan, at Isfahan

      We stayed only one day at Qom. After having said our prayers before the tomb of the virgin who brought forth twelve prophets, ¹ we resumed our journey, and yesterday, the twenty-sixth day since our departure from Ispahan, we came to Tauris.

      Rica and myself are perhaps the first Persians who have left their native country urged by the thirst for knowledge; who have abandoned the amenities of a tranquil life for the laborious search