58 pages • 1 hour read
MontesquieuPersian Letters
Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 1721A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Letters 24-71 Chapter Summaries & Analyses
Letters 24-71 Summary
Rica’s first letter, to Ibben in Smyrna, is the first glimpse of Paris, after a month’s stay. Impressed, Rica claims Paris is as large as Ispahan, a city “built in the air” (30), with people always rushing. The king (Louis XIV) possesses immense wealth—stemming from the vanity of his subjects. He rules their minds like a magician, although there exists one who is even more powerful than he: the Pope. Rica mentions a Constitution, decreed by the Pope, which among other things forbids women to study the Bible.
Usbek also sends a short letter to Ibben (who welcomed them in Smyrna). We learn that Ibben’s nephew Rhedi is traveling to Italy to educate himself. Usbek then writes to Roxane from the “poisonous place where modesty and virtue are unknown” (33), reminded of Roxane’s fierce struggle to keep her chastity. The women of the West “have lost all sense of decorum” (34). Several weeks later, Usbek mentions to Nessir that he is “low both in body and in spirits” (36), but begs him not to let anyone know, as Usbek’s wives and eunuchs might rebel against a weak master.
Rica writes to an unknown person (***) of theater and opera; it is obvious he has mistaken theater boxes for small dramatic scenes. He mentions a letter from an opera singer, who claims a priest violated her and she is with child. She begs Rica to take her back to Persia as a dancer. To Ibben he writes of the “old idol” (38), the Pope, whose power is long gone; of bishops who write dispensations for sins; and of Christian scholars interpreting religion. He also discusses the Spanish Inquisition as the most extreme way of dealing with heretics. In another letter, Rica talks of the French people’s curiosity toward foreigners. He performs an experiment with clothing: When he’s dressed as a Persian, everybody stares and approaches him, but when he’s dressed as a Frenchman, everybody ignores him.
Rhedi writes to Usbek of the “ungodly” (41) Venice and the lack of fresh water to perform ablutions. He mentions Western superstitions: medicine, arts, and sciences. Rica describes to *** a visit to a hospice during which a blind man led him very expertly to the Marais. In a letter to Rhedi, Usbek ponders “the deadly effects” (42) of wine. Persian princes must not consume it, yet they drink it to excess, while Christian ones do not suffer the same ill effects. He also mentions the benefits of Persian versions of mood-enhancing drugs.
Rica shares with Ibben his impressions of Western (“livelier and more playful”) and Eastern women (“more tender and more modest”) (43). Similarly, Western men are more easygoing and relaxed in contrast to the “gravity of the Orientals” (44). Usbek tells his dervish cousin Gemchid his thoughts on Christianity and its similarities to Islam (e.g., baptism, daily prayers, belief in paradise, fasting). Writing to Rhedi, he depicts the great quarrel between scholars as to the value of a Greek poet (Homer). To Ibben, Usbek writes of the elderly King Louis XIV and his contradictions.
Rica’s letter to Ibben ponders the battle of the sexes. His question of whether “women are subject to men” (49) meets with an unqualified “no” from a “worldly” (49) philosopher. Although he entertains this thought, Rica is confident in the Prophet’s decision that men are one degree superior to women. As if in answer to this, in a one-off letter a certain Haggi Ibbi writes to the Jew ben Joshua of the birth of the prophet Mohammad, whose holy origin must ensure belief in his holy law.
Usbek relates to Ibben the customs of Christian funerals, pondering whom we should mourn: the newborn or the dead. The head black eunuch writes that one of their escort has died and that he wishes to castrate a black slave, Pharan, to fill his place. The slave pleads his case, and Usbek is merciful and forbids the castration. He writes to Rhedi on the three Estates in France: the church, the army, and the law, and the “supreme contempt” (54) they have for one another. He tells of the great vanity of the most anonymous and penurious of rulers.
Rica recounts to Usbek a strange meeting with a delusional alchemist. Usbek sends a pensive missive to Rhedi on what constitutes a religious man. He discusses the ethics of religions with an allegory that aims to prove being a good citizen is of more significance than the deity we pray to.
Zachi reports she has made up with Zephis, and the seraglio is peaceful again. The women organize a feast and an “expedition” (58) to the countryside. Usbek commends Rica’s “ready wit and natural good spirits” (59) to Rhedi and shares critical observations of five different types of French men: the tax collector, the priest, the poet, the old soldier, and the ladies’ man. Several days later Rica recounts to Usbek a meeting with a Capuchin friar, who talks about colonizing Persia through missionary work. He then writes to *** about braggarts and immodest men who only talk about themselves, lacking the virtue of modesty.
Nargum, a Persian envoy to Russia, informs Usbek about Russians, their ruler Peter the Great, their large country, and their isolated nature of life. For women, the proof of love is in the beating; he presents a woman’s letter to her mother asking how to make her husband beat her and so prove he loves her.
Rica offers Usbek another of his ironic stories, this one about four women at ages 20, 40, 60, and 80, and their corresponding vanities. He ponders how we are “conscious only of the absurdities of others” (68). At the same time, Usbek’s wife Zelis informs him that a white eunuch wishes to marry her slave Zelide. She wonders if eunuchs can feel sensual pleasure and if there is any sensible romantic life without it.
Rica relates another story to Usbek: Two unwitty men in a culture where wit is the highest currency discuss how they can become amusing by helping each other set up jokes, and become popular by ensuring their “witticisms stay current” (71). He then writes to Ibben about the complicated concept of fidelity (or lack thereof) among the French. Husbands are rarely jealous as they “consider infidelities to be inevitable blows of fate” (72). Women are to be shared, not selfishly kept for just one man.
Usbek’s letter to Ibben talks about gambling: “one can be a gambler by profession” (73). Women especially enjoy it in an attempt to ruin their husbands. To Rhedi, Usbek writes about religious and moral casuistry; he has met a priest expert in interpreting sins as less venal so as to supply the “believers” with a dispensation. Rica also writes to Rhedi about ingenious tax-free “professions” in Paris: clairvoyants, alchemists, and beauticians. He then relates to Usbek an overheard conversation about the changes in France of the past and of today: “Things are not what they used to be forty years ago” (77). He concludes that “we never judge anything without secretly considering it in relation to our own self” (78).
In his letter to Ibben, Usbek considers the Jewish religion and Jews’ “invincible, obstinate loyalty” (78) to it. Jewish religion is “a mother who bore two daughters who have wounded her in a thousand places” (78)—Christianity and Mohammedanism. He speaks of the historical persecution of the Jews in the West and the East. To Rhedi, he writes of the ambiguous and onerous task of ecclesiastics within society.
Upon their daughter’s seventh birthday, Zelis confers with Usbek if it is better to start her “holy education” (81) at once, as all girls will enter the seraglio at some point. Rica informs Usbek that he is “adapting effortlessly to European ways” (82), praising the advantages of Western life, free of dissembling, and the uses of banter in communicating with women. Simultaneously, the head black eunuch tells Usbek that his wives are at war; the seraglio is in an “appalling state of chaos and confusion” (83). He also relates his history and about learning mastery over women from his head eunuch: “Not only was he firm, he was perceptive” (85). He asks for Usbek’s permission to punish the self-serving women. Usbek pleads with his wives to calm down and stop the domestic disturbances, or he will allow the eunuch to punish them as they deserve by disrespecting him.
Rica tells *** about “the compilers” (87), who do not have original thoughts but steal the thoughts of others and create “new” books and meanings.
Ibben writes of friendship and a Zoroastrian who is his dearest friend in Smyrna. He includes “The Story of Apheridon and Astarte”: The Zoroastrian is in love with his sister, which their religion allows; their father disagrees and sells the sister to a harem. After his death, the sister is married off to a besotted eunuch. Brother and sister start meeting, and soon she escapes with him.
Rica writes to Usbek about judges and their disinterest in the law. Usbek in his turn writes to Rhedi on the metaphysics of religion, human agency, and the omniscience of God, and what it entails.
Zelis informs Usbek that a man who asked for his friend Soliman’s daughter in marriage has insulted him. The man was either deranged or the girl was not a virgin; he cut her face and returned her to her father in disgrace. In reply, Usbek commiserates with Soliman, as the law allows the man to behave the way he did.
Letters 24-71 Analysis
The Persian noblemen’s arrival in France also heralds the inclusion of Rica’s voice as a letter writer. Rica is younger and more lighthearted than Usbek, and such is the styling of his letters; this additionally makes sense because his chief concerns are different than Usbek’s. From the outset, Rica shows interest in the social aspects of French culture, its day-to-day politics, the French mentality, and the many ways it is presented to foreigners who can observe it dispassionately. Montesquieu further uses Rica’s character to employ the most significant and consistent stylistic device in the novel: irony. Historically, the Enlightenment is known for its ample use of both irony and sarcasm in prose, poetry, and drama, as satire was one of the period’s surest means of expressing disagreement with or disapproval of certain social or political issues through veiled, artistically accomplished allusions. Thus, Rica’s statement that Paris must be as big as Ispahan, which at the time was not even remotely as large, is an early example of satire in Persian Letters.
Montesquieu employs another clever narrative strategy in situating foreign characters in the country that is the object of his interest. The foreign characters’ observations provide distance that allows the writer to comment on various issues with implicit neutrality and presumed impunity. Recall that Montesquieu first published Persian Letters anonymously in Holland, thereby attaining an additional level of remove from the material. This was an intelligent tactic, as the book’s popularity caused several huge scandals in France, of which there will be more explication later.
Rica’s first missive is one of the most important letters, as it presents an open and bitingly ironic critique of the king and the pope, as well as religion, tradition, and the new Constitution. This refers to the papal bull Unigenitus—a public decree and the most official form of legislation issued by Pope Clement XI in 1713, denouncing the statements of the Jansenist Pasquier Quesnel. (Jansenism was a theological movement that disagreed with many tenets of the Catholic Church, which therefore considered Jansenism heretical in nature.) As it behooves Rica’s religion, he ostensibly agrees with the pope’s renunciation of women’s right to study the Bible; this is a clever ploy to restate Jansenist belief in gender equality in matters of the church. Furthermore, by having Rica call the king and the pope magicians, Montesquieu asserts that these rulers maintain power through an illusion of omnipotence (Letter 24).
We encounter similar examples of satire in Rica’s letters recounting visits to the theater and opera. In Letter 28 he perceptively notices the distinct sitting arrangements of different classes. He meets bishops who sell indulgences (documents dispensing with committed sins) in Letter 29 and a deranged alchemist in Letter 45. He is visited by a Capuchin friar (Letter 49), and he sees vain women pampered by French society (Letter 52). He mentions humorless men doomed to live in a country that prizes wit most of all (Letter 54) and unintelligent men who lack imagination to write their own books (Letter 66), as well as profoundly unknowledgeable judges (Letter 68). These richly detailed scenes combine two types of satire: Horatian and Juvenalian, the first being gentler in tone and primarily witty, and the second more bitter and biting, closer to sarcasm than irony.
Usbek’s letters, on the other hand, retain their serious and contemplative quality. In his letter to Roxane, he examines the nature of women’s virtue, which he believes is kept safe and innocent in Persian seraglios (Letter 26). It is obvious he holds Roxane to the highest standard of female morality, especially since she has fought him to keep her virginity. Montesquieu uses this sequence to make a two-pronged ironic statement: First he implies through Usbek’s words that women are virtuous simply because they are closed off from the world, and second, as will become clear by the end of the novel, he foreshadows the fact that Usbek is so utterly wrong about Roxane’s devotion. In this manner, Montesquieu exposes the perceived hypocrisy not just of Muslim customs but also of men in general, especially as in a previous letter to his friend Nessir, Usbek claims to have successfully prevented himself from loving any of his wives (Letter 6), which directly contradicts what he tells them throughout the novel.
It is obvious, however, that Usbek finds his sojourn in France much more difficult than Rica. His constant worries over his seraglio and his mastery over domestic affairs are reflected in his letters to Nessir and to Rhedi, who has also traveled to Europe and is visiting Venice. These worries in some ways shape Usbek’s other, more philosophical preoccupations. As elsewhere in this book and his other writings, Montesquieu builds upon his notion that climate and geographical origin largely determine people’s disposition, and that cultural and religious differences are an added element of the formation of collective mentality. It is possible that Usbek’s maturity and character render him more susceptible to homesickness, yet both men show signs of essential difference from Europeans that do not seem purely sociological in nature.
Usbek’s explorations of religion, culture, and statesmanship continue throughout this section, gaining a more pointed and defined perspective. His thoughts gain substantiality as the novel progresses, especially as he communicates with Rhedi and Ibben. In another example of what could be termed blasphemous thought, Usbek explores intersections between Christianity and Islam with his cousin Gemchid, who is a dervish (Letter 35). Montesquieu’s point here is that different religious practices not only stem from a communal source (the need to believe in a divine presence) but also lead to similar ends, which is exemplified in Usbek’s allegory of a man addressing himself to a God without knowing which of all the existing ceremonies he should observe. The ceremonies thus become a mix of religious practices and so serve as reminder that while each religion sets different rules, the goals should be the same: virtue and morality (Letter 46).
Usbek’s interest in French culture (and the writer’s thoughts on it) can be traced most effectively through his comments on several matters, such as funeral ceremonies, in which Usbek expresses the dark thought that a man’s birth into this world should be mourned, not his death (Letter 40). Another is the Quarrel of the Ancients and Moderns, a debate that developed in the 17th century between those who supported the qualities of ancient authors, seeing them as paragons of talent to be emulated, and others who favored the new, modern expression (Usbek comments on the scholars’ time-consuming arguments over the merits or lack thereof of a new translation of Homer in Letter 36). He also notes the existence of several distinct types of French men. Through Usbek’s perceptions in Letter 48, Montesquieu offers a scathing description of each type with irony, sarcasm, and wit, whilst not wholly offending them.
France’s statesmanship, monarchy, and financial organization are key concerns reflected in Usbek’s letters here, and they are explored more analytically in subsequent letters. The three estates of the French political system as defined by Montesquieu are all presented through an exceedingly critical lens (Letter 44), and this critical opinion represents one of the novel’s essential raisons d’etre. The church is corrupt and a state in itself, the army is past its glory (as evidenced later in Letter 112), and the law is buried in minutiae and overburdened with ancient rules. The author depicts King Louis XIV equally critically as a man full of contradictions who long ago stopped being functional or useful to his people; the magnificence of his legacy (especially architectural) is marred by the randomness of his rule (Letter 37). Finally, in Usbek’s reflections on gambling, Montesquieu combines Persian disapproval of behavior that negates rational control while introducing the speculative economic strategies of John Law (whose legacy is discussed later in the book), here embodied in this reckless pastime of French aristocrats (Letter 56). In a sense, the author shows us that even though they are foreigners, through their observations and rational analysis, Usbek and Rica become the bearers of enlightened ideas concerning European societies.
Meanwhile, the narrative concerning Usbek’s seraglio and the events in Persia while he is away continues to supply the connective thread that allows the book to work as an epistolary novel. The fact that Usbek must comment upon and solve issues that arise in his absence (the death of a slave, Zelis’s thoughts on when their daughter should enter the seraglio, and Soliman’s misfortune) speaks to his obligations as a master and nobleman. It also builds tension and allows for further characterization. It is important to note, however, that the novelistic form was of secondary importance to Montesquieu when Persian Letters was first published. There are two reasons for this: At the time, the novel was a new literary development and therefore observed with distrust as to its potential and viability, and secondly, some of the letters that supply key plot elements were not compiled until 35 years later, when Montesquieu’s son prepared the book’s second printing to ensure a more cohesive whole.
