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MontesquieuA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Rica sends a couple letters to Ibben, the first on the swift change of ministers and financial systems in France, and the second about the abdication of two Swedish queens, one to pursue knowledge, the other to allow her husband to accede the throne. He sees them as examples of devotion even though he “believe[s] that each of us should stand fast in the position assigned us by nature” (186).
Rica informs Usbek that the court has banished French Parliament to a province for refusing to pass royal edicts. He also tells Usbek he has met an intriguing woman curious about Persian customs. Rica translates a Persian story for her about Zeliha, who knew the mysteries of the holy books better than anyone. Other women ask if she thinks heaven is only for men; she replies that even though some men claim women have no soul, God will not limit his rewards of virtue for both sexes. Zeliha then tells an Arabic story about Ibrahim, an evil and jealous master, and Anais, one of his wives who dares to tell him he is cruel. She is killed and enters heaven, where she presides over a seraglio with many men at her disposal. After enjoying this for a while, she remembers the misfortune of her fellow wives on earth and dispatches an angel to replace Ibrahim and rule fairly. The real Ibrahim is exiled, and the false one is accepted by everyone.
Rica also sends Usbek a letter received from a scholar who inherited a large sum of money and a house. He removed the luxuries and vanities, and remains dedicated to studying manuscripts, wishing, in pursuit of knowledge, to prove he is “not a useless citizen of the Republic of Letters” (195). He asks for a Persian manuscript, for which he would pay any sum. The scholar attaches to the letter a manuscript by an ancient Greek mythologist. The story is of a man, son of Aeolus and a nymph, who goes to Baetica to take the silver and gold from people there. He attempts to make them hand over the riches in many ways, and finally succeeds.
Rica then writes to Nathaniel Levi, a Jewish doctor in Leghorn (Livorno), on the power of belief in amulets, talismans, holy writs, and such—reason versus faith. He includes a letter from a country physician to a Parisian doctor about a man who has not slept in 35 days. The doctor prescribes opium, but the man is reluctant, so he visits a bookseller and asks for “pious” books that could help put him to sleep. As his son reads to him, everybody is soon in slumber. This inspires the doctor to stop relying on pharmacy and to apply similar methods in other cases.
Rica’s next letter is to Usbek, on the vanity of scholars and the dangers of attacking opinions from a place of self-importance. Usbek writes to *** of destinies of the clever man and the second-rate man, noting that “universal approval is more commonly accorded to the second-rate man” (221). He recalls the fate of a learned man who lives alone, fully dedicated to his studies. The locals hate him because he once dissected somebody’s dog, and now whenever a dog goes missing, everybody believes he killed it. Usbek comments on how “a scholar can hardly avoid being reproached with irreligion or heresy” (222); it is the lot of learned men to be slandered and questioned about everything by lesser men because they possess a more brilliant mind.
Usbek writes to Rhedi that the deepest wrong a bad minister can do to a nation “is the bad example he sets.” (203). His experience in the Indies taught him how bad ministers ruin good countries: “I have seen the evil spread, sparing not even the most saintly among them” (204).
The head eunuch sends an alarming missive to Usbek, claiming that “horrible things are happening here” (205): Zelis let her veil drop in public, Zachi was caught in bed with a slave, and an unknown young man was found in the gardens. In reply, Usbek gives the eunuch “unlimited power over the entire seraglio” (205) to uncover everything, to “purify that infamous place” (206) and be as ruthless as necessary.
The oldest slave Narsit informs Usbek that the head eunuch is dead, and an unopened letter from Usbek was found on him. Usbek chastises Narsit for not opening his letter and orders him to follow the commands he previously detailed.
The slave Solim writes to Usbek that he was by the head eunuch’s side as he died, warning Solim of the chaos in the seraglio. One of Usbek’s letters was intercepted; the wives “no longer conduct themselves with any prudence” (207), except for Roxane; and even the slaves are indolent. It appears the sanctity of the women’s isolation is compromised.
That same day Narsit writes to Usbek saying he has allowed Roxane and Zelis to go to the country, and he claims all is well. He mentions that one of the slaves was robbed with Usbek’s letter in his possession.
In his reply to Solim, Usbek charges his slave with revenge, urging him to “give me back my seraglio as I left it, but first you must purify it” (209). He then sends a note to all his wives, informing them Solim is ordered to punish them. That same day he writes a confessional letter to his friend Nessir. He states he “breathe[s] the air of an alien country” (209), wishing, in his “deplorable state” (210), that he had never left. He urges Rica to return, but Rica is reluctant, and Usbek sees this as a sign of his indifference. He also knows that should he return, he would always remain suspicious of his seraglio—there is no future peace for him.
Roxane blames Usbek for the terror that now reigns in the harem, calling him cruel for mistreating his wives in such a shameful way. Zachi writes that she can no longer stand the humiliation at the hands of slaves who show no mercy or respect. She tells Usbek that he should either save her or kill her. Zelis swears she no longer loves Usbek, as it was his cruelty that robbed her of dignity: “It is the tyrant who commits the outrage, and not he that is the instrument of tyranny” (224). She wishes him farewell.
A repentant Solim informs Usbek that despite all his measures, it was “Roxane, the proud Roxane—heavens!” (212) who was unfaithful, and not Zachi. She was caught in bed with a man who managed to injure Solim and then gave a good fight until the other eunuchs killed him. Solim swears he is about to unleash hell in the seraglio. He tells Usbek that “your soul and mine will know peace, for we shall wipe out crime, and watch innocence grow pale” (225).
In the final letter, Roxane admits her deceit to Usbek without regret. She is about to commit suicide. She has killed the guards who killed her lover, “the only man who gave me a reason for living” (212). Roxane rejects her role as a Muslim wife: “I may have lived in servitude, but I have always been free” (213). As she dies, she wonders if Usbek’s shock at reading her words will provoke grudging respect for her courage.
The final letters contain several significant shifts in tone, and the narrative framing structure again takes over so that Montesquieu can end the plot effectively. This part of the text contains the most supplementary letters (those added for the second publication of Persian Letters). In the years between editions, the novel as a form gained a foothold in France, and it was desirable for the author to further ground his work within a tighter plot structure, namely the events in Usbek’s seraglio and his response from France.
Thematically, as letters from Rica dominate this part, it is not surprising that the tone changes from contemplative to ironic and at times openly comedic, even though the topics discussed are serious enough. The letter on the Swedish queens’ devotion intriguingly foreshadows the question of what exactly a man’s idea of a woman’s devotion is and how this question is resolved by the novel’s conclusion, with the chaos Usbek’s wives unleash in his seraglio in Persia (Letter 139).
Montesquieu again provides several “stories within stories” that all strive to illuminate certain preoccupations in the book: women’s place in the scheme of things, the fiscal policies of 18th-century France, and the conflation of science with alchemy and superstition.
The French woman who regards seraglios with distaste and pities the women treated in such a way is a perfect foil to Persian beliefs, and her appearance is an excellent trigger to introduce Rica’s “translation” of a Persian story (Letter 141). Interestingly, this “story within a story” is like a Russian doll, as it contains another story within itself, now ostensibly of Arabic origin, thereby achieving several layers of remove from the starting point and from several cultural standpoints (French, Persian, Arabic). The Persian story posits a plot point that seems like a paradox: a woman (Zeliha) who has studied the Qur’an and interprets it better than men. This is also a direct reference to an earlier motif mentioned in connection to Catholic and Jansenist positions on women studying the Bible (Letter 24). According to Zeliha, women will receive their just rewards in heaven as men do.
Montesquieu makes a significant point here, as even today there exist numerous and often contradictory interpretations of the Qur’an when it comes to heavenly rewards for both sexes. The interpretations range from the oft-quoted but apparently misinterpreted idea that men will be rewarded with numerous virgins and women with one just man, to the concept that each believer will be rewarded according to their own desires. Also couched within this story is another reference to Rica’s earlier letter on how religions often present heavenly rewards as superstitious bait (Letter 120). The Arabic story in this context seems like a female wish fulfillment fantasy, and it is fantastical in its genre. However, it underscores women’s natural care for one another and their empathy and commiseration.
The “myth” introduced to Rica by an aged scholar (another instance of “story within a story”) is a clever pastiche of ancient Greek myths that reference significant contemporary issues (Letter 142). For inspiration, Montesquieu utilizes The Adventures of Telemachus by Archbishop Fénelon (which also inspired the Troglodyte people in Letters 11-14), from which he borrows the fictitious country of Baetica, which here represents France. The myth’s protagonist represents Scottish economist John Law, who became minister of finance during the Regency. Montesquieu observes Law’s beliefs that money has no value of itself and that trade is the only creator of wealth (especially the trade of precious metals like gold and silver) with deep mistrust and even plays them for comedy as some kind of naïve lunacy. Law’s fiscal policies were a matter of concern, and rightly so, as his theories soon left the country in economic turmoil as money rapidly lost value (referenced in Letter 132).
Rica’s inclusion of a “letter by a country physician” (Letter 143), which relates the story of an insomniac cured by having “scholarly” books read to him, is a broad satire on scholasticism, or medieval methods of philosophical criticism that originated in Christian monastic schools. These methods are in opposition to contemporary, Enlightenment-era approaches influenced by Descartes (whose credo was “I think, therefore I am”), of which Montesquieu was a follower. In form, this satire contains elements of the grotesque and hyperbole, first introduced to France by Renaissance writer François Rabelais.
However, as an aside from his amusing, ironic, and satiric epistles, Rica still offers more contemplative insight into the various superstitions built into religious beliefs (through which the author implies that all religious systems find roots in primitive magical thinking that gives power to objects to attract or repel forces) (Letter 143). He also examines the extremes of self-regard and superiority of certain scholars (Letter 144); Rica praises modesty in learned men, which by not asserting itself provokes respect in others. Montesquieu asserts that those secure in their knowledge and wisdom have no need to belittle others or prove that they are superior; in fact, safe in their accomplishment, they do not feel the need for superiority.
The novel’s final letters find Usbek preoccupied with the chaotic events in his seraglio, which he cannot control from afar. Montesquieu does use Usbek’s voice to again echo the sentiments expressed in Rica’s letter on scholars by relating a story of a genius who is so dedicated to his learning that he becomes unacceptable to the society he ostensibly belongs to (Letter 145). This idea might also reflect Usbek’s situation: Leaving Persia rendered him both a perennial foreigner and an exile from his homeland. His homesickness persists, and yet the novel’s final events make clear that there will be no peace for Usbek even if he returns to Persia, as his palace falls apart and Roxane, the only woman he ever really loved, betrays him.
Montesquieu builds tension here with brief letters exchanged between eunuchs, wives, and Usbek. The drastic and sudden change in tone and style also creates a sense of disturbance in readers, as we witness the seemingly unstoppable unraveling of everything Usbek has until now held to be secure, inviolable, and under his control. The powerful message of these short letters is clear: Usbek has become one of those self-satisfied men he criticizes throughout the novel. He was too sure of his position as master and man of the palace, and his hubris comes with a terrible price: All his wives renounce him for his absence, for his remote cruelty, and for giving direct power to the eunuchs and slaves who (possibly from deeply seated frustration at being emasculated) exact harsh revenge on the women.
The final letter is written by Roxane, who is dead by suicide by the time Usbek receives it. This brings Usbek’s examination of suicide into even sharper focus, and for the reader creates an eerie sense that Roxane is speaking to him from beyond the grave. Roxane’s bold, rebellious tone demonstrates dignity and refusal to accept defeat. Her rejection of Islam’s treatment of women is a powerful and prescient proto-feminist statement against patriarchy and centuries of male-dictated governance.