Persian Letters

“I can see exactly what is happening, Troglodytes; your virtue is becoming burdensome; in your present situation, without a leader, you have to be virtuous in spite of yourselves, for otherwise you could not survive, you would fall into the misfortunes of your earliest forefathers; but you find this yoke too heavy to bear, you prefer to be subject to a prince and to obey his laws, which would be less strict than your own customs; you know that then you will be able to satisfy your ambition, amass riches, and live a life of ease and self-indulgent pleasure; and that, as long as you avoid serious crime, you will have no need of virtue.” 

The story of the Troglodytes, which Usbek relates to Mirza over four letters, was inspired by Montesquieu’s reading of The Adventures of Telemachus by Archbishop Fénelon, which is based on Homer’s Odyssey and suggests altruism and parliamentarism as a new basis for governing. In this excerpt, the man chosen as king ponders the fatal loss of self-induced virtue, which will inevitably lead to vice—morality must be personal and not dictated for it to function.

“I therefore resolved to set aside my Persian clothing and dress instead as a European, to see whether anything in my appearance would still astonish. From this test I learnt my true worth: stripped of my exotic finery, I found myself appraised at my real value, and I had good reason to complain of my tailor, through whom I’d lost, in an instant, the attention and esteem of the public; for suddenly a dreadful void surrounded me; sometimes I’d pass an entire hour in a group of people without anyone looking at me, or giving me an opportunity to open my mouth; but if someone in the circle happened to mention that I was Persian, I’d immediately hear a buzzing around me: ‘Oh! Oh! Monsieur is Persian? That’s most extraordinary! How can someone be Persian?’” 

Rica discovers the relative nature of apparent national difference. The realization that it is only his Persian clothing that renders him exotic in the eyes of Parisians triggers his vanity and patriotism. This also speaks of the superficial nature of perception in French society.

“Nothing is as distressing as words of solace that invoke the inevitability of pain, the futility of remedies, the fatality of destiny, the determinations of providence, and the misery of the human condition; it is a mockery to attempt to alleviate suffering with the thought that we are born wretched; it is far better to banish those thoughts from the mind, and treat man as a sentient, not a rational, being.” 

Montesquieu comments on first-century philosopher Seneca, popular for his stoic attitude of forbearance, with clearly expressed disapproval. Usbek’s refusal to entertain the idea of predetermined suffering favors the information of the senses, which allows for a much wider perception of the world and our own circumstances, instead of locking them into ancient thought systems.

“I see people here arguing endlessly about religion: but at the same time they seem to be competing over who can observe it the least. Not only are they not better Christians, they are not even better citizens, and that is what concerns me: for no matter what religion one follows, observance of the law, love of one’s fellow-men, and filial devotion are always the principal results of religion.” 

One of the Enlightenment’s central ideas is the concept of citizenship and what it entails. Usbek’s ironic comments are here two-pronged. On the one hand, he is critical of the fact that religious discourse in Europe has become a constant struggle between multiplying factions of Christianity, where one often loses sight of the religious belief itself. On the other, Montesquieu uses irony to uphold ideas of civic responsibility and personal duty from the perspective of an objective observer. It is important to note that by using a Persian character of moral rectitude, Montesquieu adds to the conversation on the perception of Orientalism in 18th-century Europe.

“‘And that fat man in black,’ I said to him, ‘whom that lady has invited to sit beside her? How can he be dressed so lugubriously, yet have such a cheerful air and such a rubicund complexion? He smiles graciously the instant anyone speaks to him, and his outfit is simpler, yet more carefully contrived, than a woman’s.’ ‘He’s a preacher,’ he answered, ‘and what’s worse, a father confessor: whatever he may look like, he knows more than husbands do, he knows women’s weakness; but they know that he also has his own.’” 

Montesquieu sneaks in a reference to Moliere’s Tartuffe (1664), the hypocritically religious seducer, in depicting one of the era’s openly sore spots: the disingenuous nature of French Catholic priests. Their frequent pretense of faith was often offset against their meddlesome nature and the societal power they wielded due to information gathered in confession.

“‘We have a maxim in France,’ he told me, ‘which states that no officer should be promoted who has tolerated being kept in a low-ranking position; we see them as men whose spirit has, so to speak, grown narrower by focusing on details, and who, having accustomed themselves to small matters, have become incapable of greater things; we believe that a man who does not possess the qualities of a general at the age of thirty will never possess them; that he whose eye cannot instantly grasp all the various possibilities inherent in an extensive terrain, or who lacks that presence of mind which in victory ensures that every advantage is grasped, and in defeat every resource exploited, will never acquire those talents.” 

The concept that a dominant mind will make itself known at an early age endures to this day, not only in the military but also in scientific research. It could also be said that the characteristics listed above are marks of successful company managers today—ambition, perseverance, and an ability to quickly assess and analyze people and situations. The battlefield has largely been replaced by the world of corporate finance.

“[R]eligious fanatics keep a vast number of dervishes; these dervishes take three vows: of obedience, of poverty, and of chastity. It is said that the first is the best kept of them all; as to the second, I can tell you that it isn’t kept at all, and you can well imagine what happens to the third. But however wealthy these dervishes may be, they never renounce their title of ‘poor’; our glorious sultan would sooner renounce his sublime and magnificent honorifics, and they are quite right, for the title of ‘poor’ prevents them from being so.” 

Montesquieu consistently uses terms from Muslim faith when speaking through Usbek and Rica, which is logical considering their point of view. Thus, Rica here uses the word “dervishes” for Catholic monks and priests. The irony in exposing the vices of clergy was quite straightforward and daring for the time.

“An infinite number of Masters of Languages, Arts, and Science teach what they themselves do not know; this is quite a notable talent, for to teach what one knows requires but little wit, whereas an infinite quantity is needed to teach what one does not know.” 

Montesquieu again expresses a universal truth through expert use of irony, one of the era’s most popular literary devices. The use of “infinite” repeated twice in different contexts is a hyperbolic indication of the state of affairs that resonates to this day, and the triple repetition of “teach” in a quote that has almost nothing to do with actual learning only underscores the point.

“It seems to me, Usbek, that we never judge anything without secretly considering it in relation to our own self. I am not surprised that black men depict the devil as brilliantly white, and their own gods as coal-black, that the Venus of certain peoples has breasts that hang down to her thighs, and, in short, that all idolaters have depicted their gods with human faces, and have endowed them with their own propensities. It has been quite correctly observed that if triangles were to make themselves a god, they would give him three sides.” 

This quote offers an astoundingly resonant insight into human perception. It traces its inseparable connection to the information supplied by the senses and how this information relates to our individual and group selves. Primitive societies were governed by magical thinking whereby like attracts like, and this passage underscores the core belief in anthropomorphism rooted in human inability to conceptualize other entities as having any form other than humanoid. It also shows that the standards of beauty are dictated by what we perceive around us.

“[N]ature in her wisdom seems to have arranged for man’s follies to be short-lived, and books render them immortal. A fool ought to be satisfied with having bored all his own contemporaries, but he also seeks to torment those as yet unborn; he wants his stupidity to triumph over oblivion, which he might, like the tomb, have enjoyed; but no, he wants posterity to be notified that he has lived, and he wants her to know, for all eternity, that he was an idiot.” 

The “immortal” nature of the printed word is here utilized as a satirical (almost purely sarcastic) vehicle to expose those who believe beyond any shadow of doubt or self-criticism in their own intelligence and worthiness and wish for them to be universally accepted. This is another thought that strongly resonates in today’s world, especially considering the overproduction of every type of text.

“According to metaphysical principals [sic.], it is not possible for God to foresee things which are determined by free causation, because that which has not happened, is not, and therefore cannot be known; a non-existent thing which has no properties cannot be perceived; God cannot read an intention which has no existence, or see in the soul something which is not there; for until it is decided upon, the action that gives rise to it has no existence in the soul.” 

Usbek here contrasts religious and metaphysical thought on predetermination and God’s omniscience. Metaphysics denies the possibility of knowledge of something that has not occurred yet and, in that sense, implies that God might not be omniscient. However blasphemous this thought might appear, Usbek renders it relative through a plausible explanation of the system of free will of the soul and causation. Throughout this letter, Montesquieu refers to Descartes’s idea of the human mind’s ultimate inability to comprehend God or his perfection.

“There is no country in the world where fortune is as fickle as she is in France. Every ten years there are revolutions, which precipitate the rich into the deepest poverty and raise up the poor, on rapid wings, to the greatest wealth. The first is astonished by his penury, the second, by his plenty. The upstart is amazed by the wisdom of Providence, the newly poor by the blind reversals of Destiny.” 

This is brief but excellent analysis of the French monarchy. Ministers, peasants, and aristocracy fall in and out of favor with the ruler, form alliances and cause rebellions, then continue to weave a web of courtly intrigue. This passage is also a prescient indication of the French Revolution of 1789, where the plebs finally overturned the age-old system.

“A woman who leaves Paris to spend six months in the country returns as antiquated as if she had sequestered herself there for thirty years. The son fails to recognize the portrait of his mother, so outlandish does the outfit in which she is painted seem to him; he imagines that it’s a painting of some Amerindian woman, or that the painter was attempting to portray one of his fantasies.” 

Rica wittily satirizes the excesses of French fashion in very broad strokes. The Regency period is known for stylistic extremes, and one of its key characteristics was the swift change of fads—thus a period of six months is equated with a third of a century. The extract also points to popular foreign influences at the time, as France took inspiration from its colonies.

“When two of the men present denied some principle he would promptly respond: ‘It’s beyond question, that is our judgement, and we are infallible judges.’ ‘And how does it come about,’ I then asked him ‘that you are infallible judges?’ ‘Don’t you understand,’ he replied, ‘that the Holy Spirit enlightens us?’ ‘How fortunate,’ I responded, ‘for judging by the way you have been talking all day, I see that you are in great need of enlightenment.” 

This a rare example of Usbek actively participating in a conversation instead of reporting what others say. What distresses him throughout his adventure in France is shown here most poignantly: the solipsistic nature of the average French scholar, and his absolute and righteous conviction in the validity of his pronouncements. Usbek’s final reply is brutally sarcastic, especially bearing in mind his utmost respect for his host country as an Oriental foreigner. This makes Montesquieu’s point even sharper.

“All this leads to the conclusion, Rhedi, that for a monarch to be powerful it is necessary that his subjects live a pleasurable life; he must be just as vigilant in ensuring that every kind of luxury is available to them as he is in ensuring they have the necessities of life.” 

This utopian thought combines the idea of the beneficial production and enjoyment of arts with the ability to earn a decent living. The idea that a ruler should not only ensure all his citizens enjoy life’s luxuries but also that his power should stem from this is still valid and often mentioned in contemporary politics, yet it remains a utopian concept.

“The majority of authors are like poets, who would endure a beating without complaint, but who, unconcerned about their own skin, are so touchy about the reputation of their works that they cannot tolerate the smallest adverse criticism; one must therefore be extremely careful not to attack them on such sensitive ground, and reviewers are well aware of this; consequently they do the exact opposite, and begin by praising the subject-matter treated.” 

Literary journals, an invention of the 18th century, were almost exclusively concerned with reviewing newly published books. During the Enlightenment period, poets were decidedly not considered the cream of literary establishments, so Montesquieu uses their “sensitivity” to aim his arrow at the cowardly reviewers. In many ways, the commentary is especially valid today, when the role of the critic has almost ceased to exist.

“It was a fine thing to see the two most respected assemblies in Europe occupied in deciding the fate of a letter of the alphabet. It seems, my dear friend, that the brains of the greatest men contract when they are gathered together, and that where there are more wise men, there you will also find less wisdom. The great assemblies are so preoccupied with minutiae, with formalities, and with empty orthodoxies, that essential issues are always relegated to the end.” 

The quote refers directly to the French University and the French Academy, at the time paragons of learning and knowledge. Through Rica’s words, Montesquieu also swings at the French Parliament. Such bold comments on the intellectual paralysis of France’s greatest minds is one reason why Persian Letters became so popular—and why the book had to be published anonymously.

“Nothing was more conducive to mutual attachment than the freedom to divorce; a husband and wife were inclined to bear their domestic difficulties with patience, knowing that they had the power to end them; and frequently that power remained unused throughout their lives, only because they were free to invoke it.” 

In discussing the perceived population decline, Usbek criticizes the Catholic law that forbids divorce. Having come from a culture of polygamy, his argument suggests that the ability to obtain a divorce will both deter men from getting one and incentivize them to be with women they feel passion for, which will naturally result in the birth of more children. The crux of Usbek’s argument is the freedom of will to act upon one’s desire.

“You can compare empires to a tree, whose overlong branches draw away all the sap from the trunk, and serve only to give shade.” 

History has shown that all great empires become great through expansion and colonization. The comparison in this quote, stylistically more poetic than is expected from Usbek, aptly describes an empire’s waning reach when the only motivation for expansion is expansion itself.

“It’s true that we don’t try to be as clever about it as do westerners; we believe that there is no more difference between administering the revenues of the prince and administering those of a private individual, than exists between counting 100,000 tomans and 100. But here a great deal more finesse and mystery is involved. It is necessary that great geniuses work night and day, and constantly and painfully bring forth fresh projects.” 

This quote presents a sharply ironic jab at France’s ministry of finance and its tax laws and practices. Again, by adopting the stance of a foreign observer, Montesquieu achieves a distanced view on day-to-day politics, which is calculated to obfuscate rather than aid the common person. It also speaks of overpopulated administrative offices, which remains poignantly relevant today.

“Men are indeed unhappy creatures: they vacillate endlessly between false hopes and ridiculous fears, and instead of putting their trust in reason, they fashion monsters that frighten them or phantoms that deceive them.” 

One of the Enlightenment’s main tenets was educating and informing people to achieve intellectual, social, political, and scientific modernization. In France, where the movement started, the Catholic Church held strong sway over the minds of its flock, offering vivid images of heaven and hell and encouraging magical thinking. In this quote, Montesquieu effectively contrasts religious superstition and rational thought.

“The other day, in a country house I was visiting, I encountered two scholars who are very celebrated here. Their character struck me as remarkable. The conversation of the first—which was greatly appreciated—could be summed up as follows: ‘What I have said is true, because I have said it.’ The conversation of the other centred on something different: ‘What I have not said is not true, because I have not said it.’ I quite liked the first; if someone is obstinate, it doesn’t bother me in the least, but if someone is irrational, that does indeed bother me. The first is defending his own opinions, which is his right; the other is attacking the opinions of others, and therefore attacking the rights of everyone.” 

This is a brilliant example of logic and Montesquieu’s nemesis: solipsism. To hold an opinion and be prepared to defend it is thought somewhat impolitic but admissible by Usbek; to attack another’s opinion merely because it is not one’s own is not only illogical, it is supremely egotistical. Such attitudes render any meaningful conversation impossible and are dangerously close to ad hominem attacks.

“A man who lacks a certain talent will compensate himself by despising it; he eliminates the obstacle which blocks his path to excellence, and, as a consequence, sees himself as the equal of the rival whose work he fears.” 

This notion is as true and valid today as it was three centuries ago. It shows incredible maturity of thought, perceptiveness of reasoning, and understanding of the deeply flawed human nature, which seeks to topple that which towers above it, as if by some primitive instinct or fear of being conquered.