“We never judge anything without secretly considering it in relation to our own self.”
Could it be this one quote—picked from Letter 57—that accounts for the whole of Persian Letters?
I am well aware that it would be quite a challenge to encapsulate Montesquieu’s masterpiece within a single sentence, and yet this one seems to me perfectly fit for purpose. Indeed, the letters written or received by Usbek and Rica, two Persian travellers who visit France around the time when Louis XIV dies and the Regent Philippe d’Orléans takes over, are many and cover a variety of subjects. And yet, it is possible to make out a rich repository of well‑thought‑through guidelines.
Persian Letters is a brilliant book because it is a profound and trailblazing philosophical essay that reads like a lovely, lively novel.
A philosophical essay, indeed, as Montesquieu sets out his ideas and reflections about cultural relativism, religious hypocrisy, and overreaching power. And an enjoyable novel too, mainly framed by what is going on in the harem while Usbek is abroad. If you think you’re in for an Oriental when‑the‑cat’s‑away‑the‑mice‑can‑play version, then you have another thing coming.
Why should Persian mores be deemed better or worse than French ones, and vice versa? Montesquieu upholds the idea of geographical determinism. If the Persians and the French have a different take on the world, it is first and foremost because they live in different parts of the world. So, in their “arduous quest for wisdom”, Usbek and Rica take to travelling as they feel that the place where they were born should not be “the boundaries of their knowledge”.
That said, some truths are universal, regardless of origin. For instance, in Letter 31: “It is far better […] to treat man as a sentient, not a rational being.” Letter 44 tells us that “no matter what your religion may be, as soon as you assume its existence, you must also assume that God loves mankind, since he established a religion to make men happy; and that if he loves them, you are certain to please him by loving them yourself also; that is to say, by carrying out all the duties of charity and humanity towards them, and by not breaking the law under which they live.” The letter ends with the claim that the best way to please God is not through theatrics and religious ceremonies, but by being a good citizen.
Quite ironically, the next letter reminds us how deportment and decorum—especially regarding Persian women—can quickly lead to absurd and even life‑threatening situations. Situations that are more often than not matters of perspective. And this one thing deemed shocking by a Westerner and that other thing an Easterner finds upsetting somehow cancel each other out. In Letter 46, for example, Usbek expresses utter contempt for hedonistic behaviour, or libertinage, in France.
Timeless and universal truths are also to be found in Letter 65: “Oh, how tasteless is praise, when it reflects upon its source!” And in Letter 49: “Happy the man who is vain enough never to praise himself, who fears his audience, and never compromises his own worth by ruffling the pride of others.”
News from the harem does more than keep the reader on their toes. In my opinion, the first batch of letters from Usbek’s five wives makes for rather boring reading—Oh, Usbek, I love you/miss you so much— or some schmoopiness of the same ilk. That is, of course, done on purpose. For if the Persian women run in circles, it is precisely because of their inferior status. They are trapped inside the harem, which is a byword for a gilded jail. What happens there adds a colourful touch of exoticism, but not only that. Montesquieu makes it a powder keg in his bid to tear to shreds all forms of tyrannical power at a time when, at least in the West of the Enlightenment, some thinkers were beginning to see women as more than man’s second half.
Now lets' not get carried away! I am not saying that all of a sudden in Western Europe at the beginning of the 18th century, everybody is on about women being rational beings deserving of education, moral agency and a role in public life. At this stage, it is just the timid and slow beginning of the shaking off of older patriachal norms, a drawn-out process that is still going on today - some would say at a snail's pace. On this matter, Montesquieu himself is not always above contradiction, but he clearly uses Usbek's harem to blast the cruelty and absudity of absolute male power. Not only that. I fully support the idea that Usbek's harem is a political allegory aimed at the way Louis XIV wields power. In Usbek's harem as well as in French absolutism, all power goes to one man, there's no checks and balances, obedience is enforced through fear and coercion, denizens are treated as dependents, if not objects. And to top it all off, the whole system collapses the moment the ruler is away or shows signs of weakness. Historically, things are a little more complicated than that. Louis XIV had actually much less power than would later have blood-thirsty tyrant and warmonger Napoleon, but that's another story altogether!
"Yesterday's truth is tomorrow's lie" (Letter 74). Is it the reason why the story of Apheridon and Astarte in Letter 65 is to be taken with kids' gloves? Yes and no. The tale looks at first glance like a proponent of incest. In fact, it is anything but. It first reads as a satire of abitrary moral taboos, and then it evolves into a parody of reason going wild. Let's remember that the Enlightenment is the time when thinkers of all kinds are trying to rebuild morality from pure reason. But when you apply cold, abstract, scientific reasoning to moral matters rooted in emotion and the fabric of social cohesion, it only leads to nonsense. Moral norms are shaped by history, culture and religion. Dogmatism is a bad thing on both sides of the argument. Blind obedience to tradition is irrational. So is blind obedience to abstract reason. Montesquieu's political philosophy is all about balance, moderation, and the assessment that societies are complex organisms. Brandishing incest like a red rag, Montesquieu wants you to ask yourself the right questions: Why do you believe what you believe? Where does morality actually come from? Why is the argument logical, but its conclusion unacceptable? Here we are touching on what is next to come in Montesquieu's career - his famous political theory T he Siprit of The Laws (by the way, note the plural, laws, not law), as is obvious in his present views on suicide: "I am bound to obey laws when I am living under these laws, but when I am no longer living under them, can they still bind me?" While I'm at it, let me enjoy quoting the conclusion of Letter 74: "We are not conscious of our insignificance, and despite everything, we want to count for something in the universe, be a part of it, be of importance in it."
More lightly now, I'd like to pick up on a few other striking quotes and passages.
Letter 78 provides a good rundown on Montesquieu's rock-solid political views.
L92: Leaders of the world, do read it out!
L96: Fashion victims of today, this one's for you! Definitely one og the funniest Persian letters.
L97 is as spot-on as ever. Most of Rica's razor-sharp comments on French stereotypes still stand up. It's as if he were complaining about all the red tape coming today from Brussels and French bureaucracy. The French Ancient Regime is no more, and yet the French Filth Republic is but Republican monarchy. And yes, I'm rather proud of my pun!
L103: "Self-interest is the greatest monarch on earth."
L122: "The ambition of princes is never as dangerous as the baseness of soul of their councillors."
L123 and L124: The geometer and "newsmongers" with all their annoying carry-on put me in mind of all the pundits we have to put up with today in our media circus.
At first, Usbek and Rica are delightfully out of step with local habits, but the longer they stay in Europe, the less surprised they become by what they see. If they never quite blend in, there soon comes a time when they grow comfortably at home. And once they have mastered the local script, they can finally delve deeper into the topic dearest to Montesquieu: the best form of government.
From the moment it came out, Persian Letters was an instant hit, because the philosophical essay smoothes into the fabric of a thrilling novel. What is most remarkable is that, to this day, it has not lost any of its pertinence.
I would surely gladly have made mine the rallying cry of the time: “Monsieur, write me some Persian Letters!”