Zadig/L'Ingénu Page 6

  ‘Yes,’ said the Egyptian.

  ‘The fish Oannes,’ Zadig continued, ‘ought to yield place to him who made the sea and the fish.’

  ‘I quite agree,’ said the Chaldean.

  ‘The Indian and the Cathayan,’ Zadig added, ‘agree with you in recognizing a First Principle. I did not fully understand all the admirable things the Greek was saying, but I am sure that he too accepts a Supreme Being, upon whom form and matter depend.’

  The Greek, who was generally admired, said that Zadig had fully comprehended his thought.

  ‘Well then,’ replied Zadig, ‘you are all of the same opinion; and there is nothing to quarrel about in that.’

  Everyone embraced him; and Setoc, after selling his merchandise at a good price, took Zadig back to his tribe. Zadig learnt on arrival that he had been tried in his absence and was to be burnt at the stake in a slow fire.

  CHAPTER 13

  THE ASSIGNATIONS

  WHILE he was away at Balsora the Priests of the Stars had decided to punish him. The precious stones and jewellery of the young widows they sent to the pyre belonged to them by right; and it was the least they could do to have Zadig burnt for the bad turn he had served them. They therefore accused him of incorrect thinking about the Celestial Host; they entered depositions against him, and swore that they had heard him declare that the stars do not set in the sea. This frightful blasphemy made the judges tremble; they were ready to rend their clothes, and they would undoubtedly have done so if Zadig had been able to pay for them. But in their extreme displeasure they contented themselves with sentencing him to be burnt at a slow fire. Setoc, in despair, used all his authority to try to save his friend, but in vain; he was soon obliged to keep his peace. Almona, the young widow who had acquired a strong taste for life (which she owed to Zadig), resolved to rescue him from the funeral pyre, an evil custom whose futility he had proved to her. She pondered her scheme without speaking to anyone about it. Zadig was to be executed the following day; she had only that night to arrange his escape. This is how a prudent and charitable woman set to work.

  She sprinkled herself with perfumes, and set off her natural charms with a rich and elegant robe. Thus attired, she went to crave a secret audience with the High Priest of the Stars. When she was admitted to the presence of this venerable old man, she addressed him in these words:

  ‘Eldest Son of the Great Bear, Brother of the Bull, and Cousin of the Great Dog,’ (these were the titles of this hierarch), ‘I am come to confide to you some misgivings. I am much afraid that I have committed a terrible sin in not burning myself upon my dear husband’s pyre. What, after all, had I to preserve? Some perishable flesh, already quite faded.’

  As she spoke, she drew back her long silken sleeves and revealed two bare arms of lovely shape and dazzling whiteness.

  ‘You see,’ she said, ‘how little it is worth.’

  The High Priest found in his heart that it was worth a good deal. His eyes said so, and his mouth declared it; he swore that never in his life had he seen such beautiful arms.

  ‘Ah, well!’ sighed the widow. ‘My arms may be a little less wretched than the rest; but you will admit that my neck was not worthy of the attentions I gave it.’

  So saying she revealed the most beautiful bosom that Nature had ever made. It looked like an ivory apple decked with a rose-bud, though that would have appeared as dull as madder-flowers on boxwood by comparison; even the whiteness of freshly washed lambs jumping out of a clear pool would have seemed a dull yellow. That bosom, those large black eyes, softly shining with tender fire, cheeks glowing like beautiful carnations and fresh cream, a nose quite unlike the tower upon Mount Lebanon, lips like twin rows of coral framing the most lovely pearls of the Arabian sea – the general effect of it all was to make the old man think he was twenty years old. He tried to stammer out a tender declaration. Seeing his excitement, Almona craved pardon for Zadig. The old man heaved a sigh:

  ‘Dearest lady,’ said he, ‘even if I were to grant you this favour, the pardon would be of no use. It must be signed by three of my colleagues.’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ said Almona, ‘I beg you to sign.’

  ‘Willingly,’ said the Priest, ‘on condition that your favours shall be the reward of my yielding.’

  ‘You do me too much honour,’ said Almona. ‘Be so gracious as to come to my chamber after sunset, as soon as the bright star Sheat appears above the horizon. You will find me upon a rose-coloured sofa, and you may do what you will with your servant.’

  She then retired, taking with her his signature and leaving the old man a prey to desire and to misgivings about his strength. He spent the rest of the day bathing, and drank a cup of cinnamon from Ceylon infused with precious spices from Tidor and Ternate, while impatiently waiting for the star Sheat to rise.

  Meanwhile the lovely Almona went to find the second patriarch. He assured her that the Sun, the Moon, and all the lights of the firmament were but will-o’-the-wisps in comparison with her charms. She begged the same favour, and was asked to pay the same price. She allowed herself to be persuaded, and made an assignation with the second patriarch at the rising of the star Algenib. Then she visited the third and the fourth priests, each time securing a signature and making an assignation at the rising of a star. She then went to request the judges to come to her chamber on important business. When they arrived, she showed them the four names and told them the price for which the priests had sold Zadig’s ransom. Each of the four arrived at his appointed hour, and each, though much astonished to see his colleagues, was even more astonished to find the judges, before whom their shame was exposed. Zadig was saved. Setoc was so delighted with Almona’s skill that he made her his wife. After throwing himself at the feet of his beautiful liberator, Zadig departed. Setoc and he were in tears as they said farewell; they vowed eternal friendship and promised each other that whichever was the first to make his fortune would share it with the other.

  Zadig’s way lay towards Syria. As he journeyed, he kept thinking of the unhappy Astarte and reflecting on the fate which persisted in teasing and persecuting him :

  ‘Think of it!’ he said to himself. ‘Eighty ounces of gold for not noticing a bitch! Condemned to be beheaded for four bad verses in praise of the King! Nearly strangled because the Queen had some slippers the colour of my cap! Reduced to slavery for having rescued a woman from a beating! And within an inch of burning for having saved the lives of all the young widows in Arabia!’

  CHAPTER 14

  THE BRIGAND

  ON reaching the frontiers of Arabia and Syria, he passed by a pretty strong fortress, from which poured a number of Arabs, sword in hand. He found himself surrounded.

  ‘All that you possess is ours,’ cried one of them, ‘and you belong to our master.’

  Zadig’s reply was to draw his sword, and his servant, who was a man of courage, did the same. They drove back and killed the first Arabs who set hands upon them. The numbers increased, but they showed no surprise and resolved to die fighting. It was two against a multitude : such a contest could not last long. The master of the fortress, whose name was Argobad, had been watching Zadig’s prodigies of bravery from a window. He felt some respect for him, and hastened down in person to call off his people and deliver the two travellers.

  ‘All that crosses my land is mine,’ said he, ‘as well as what I find on other people’s. But you seem such a brave fellow that I exempt you from the common law.’

  He bade him enter his fortress, and ordered his people to treat him well. In the evening Argobad decided to have supper with Zadig.

  The lord of the fortress was one of those Arabs commonly called robbers; but amongst a heap of bad deeds, he sometimes did good ones. There were no limits to his greed for plunder, or to his generosity to others; he was fearless in action yet almost gentle when bargaining, debauched at table, yet merry in his debauches, and above all the soul of frankness. He took a great fancy to Zadig, whose conversation put him in good
humour and spun out the meal. At last Argobad said to him :

  ‘I advise you to enlist in my troop; you couldn’t do better. It’s not a bad trade, and one day you might become what I am.’

  ‘May I ask you,’ said Zadig, ‘how long you have been following this noble profession?’

  ‘From my earliest youth,’ replied his lordship. ‘I was manservant to an Arab; a clever fellow in his way, but my situation was unbearable. It vexed me to see that, though the earth belongs equally to all men, Fate had not kept me a corner in any part of it. I unburdened myself to an old Arab, who said to me : “My son, don’t despair. Once upon a time there was a grain of sand which complained of being an atom lying disregarded in the desert; a few years went by, and it became a diamond; now it is the brightest jewel in the crown of the King of India.” This story made a great impression on me; I was the grain of sand, I was determined to become a diamond. I began by stealing two horses; then I made up a party of companions to specialize in small caravans; and so little by little I put an end to that disproportion between myself and other men which I had begun with. I got my share of the good things of life, and recouped myself with interest, too. This made people respect me; I became a Master Brigand, and I took this castle by storm. The satrap of Syria wanted to turn me out; but I was already too rich to have anything to fear. I gave the satrap some money on condition that I kept the castle and enlarged my estates. He also made me Collector of Taxes in Northern Arabia for the King of Kings. I have taken good care to collect, and never to pay.

  ‘The Grand Vizier of Babylon sent a little satrap here to strangle me in the name of King Moabdar. This fellow arrived with his instructions; but I had wind of everything: the four men whom he had brought to pull the noose I had throttled before his eyes, and I then asked what his commission to strangle me was worth to him. He told me his fees might amount to three hundred pieces of gold. I showed him that he had more to gain with me, and I made him an under-brigand. Today he is one of my best officers, and one of the richest, too. Believe me, you’ll do as well as he did. The times have never been better for robbery, as Moabdar has been murdered, and all is confusion in Babylon.’

  ‘Moabdar murdered!’ cried Zadig. ‘And what has happened to Queen Astarte?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ replied Argobad. ‘All I know is that Moabdar went mad and has been murdered, that Babylon is a nest of cut-throats and the whole Empire is in ruins. There are still some fine chances for loot; in fact, I’ve done pretty well out of it myself already.’

  ‘But what about the Queen?’ said Zadig. ‘Don’t you know what has happened to the Queen? For heaven’s sake tell me.’

  ‘I have heard some talk of a Prince of Hyrcania,’ he replied. ‘She’s probably one of his concubines, if she was not killed in the rioting. But I am more interested in booty than in news. I have captured several women in my raids, but I never keep any; I sell them for a good price if they are pretty, without inquiring what they are. No one pays for rank: a queen who happened to be ugly wouldn’t find a customer. Perhaps I have sold Queen Astarte; perhaps she is dead; but it matters little to me, and I don’t think you ought to care any more than I do.’

  While he spoke, he had been drinking so generously that his mind became confused, and Zadig could not clearly discover anything more. He was dumbfounded, overwhelmed, and incapable of action. As for Argobad, he went on drinking and telling stories; he kept saying that he was the happiest of men, and urged Zadig to make himself equally happy. Overcome at last by the fumes of his wine, he fell into a peaceful sleep.

  Zadig spent the night in violent perturbation.

  ‘So the King went mad?’ he kept saying, ‘and was murdered? I can’t help it, his fate drives me to tears! The

  Empire is in ruins, and this brigand is happy! Such are the ways of Fortune! So this is Destiny! A robber happy, and the most lovely masterpiece of Nature perhaps barbarously destroyed, or alive in a state worse than death! Astarte, Astarte! What has become of you?’

  At daybreak he questioned all whom he met in the castle, but everyone was busy, and no one would reply. New conquests had been made during the night, and the spoils were being divided. All he could obtain amidst the tumult was leave to depart. He took advantage of it without delay, and left the castle still in the depths of despair.

  Zadig walked away in perturbation of spirit, his mind brooding upon the unfortunate Astarte, and the King of Babylon, and his faithful friend Cador, and the happy brigand Argobad, and that wanton whom the Babylonians had captured on the borders of Egypt, and in short upon all the unlucky accidents and misfortunes he had suffered.

  CHAPTER 15

  THE FISHERMAN

  AT a few leagues’ distance from Argobad’s castle he came to a little river, and there he paused, still lamenting his destiny, and looking upon himself as the very pattern of misfortune. He noticed a fisherman lying on the bank. His net, to which he scarcely paid attention, drooped languidly from his hand as he raised his eyes to Heaven.

  ‘I am undoubtedly the most unhappy of men,’ the fisherman was saying. ‘Time was when everyone agreed that I was the most celebrated vendor of cream cheese in Babylon; and now I am ruined. I had the prettiest wife that a man of my condition could possess; and she has been false to me. I still had a wretched hovel, and even that has been pillaged and destroyed before my very eyes. My only shelter is a cabin; my only means of subsistence is fishing, and I don’t catch any fish. This net of mine! What is the use of casting it into the water any longer? I’ll cast myself instead.’

  So saying he got up, and approached the river as if to hurl himself in and end his life.

  ‘Most remarkable!’ said Zadig to himself. ‘So there are men just as wretched as I am!’

  His impulse to save the fisherman’s life was instinctive. He ran towards him, checked him, and questioned him tenderly and sympathetically. We fancy that we are less wretched when we are not alone in our sufferings. But, according to Zoroaster, that is the result not of evil destiny but of natural laws; for we find ourselves attracted towards another’s misfortunes, as like attracts like. The joy of a happy man would be an insult to our misery; but two unhappy wretches are like two weaks shrubs which lean upon each other and so resist the storm.

  ‘Why do you yield to your troubles?’ said Zadig to the fisherman.

  ‘Because I see no help for it,’ he replied. ‘I was once the most respected man in the village of Derlback near Babylon, and with my wife’s help I used to make the best cream cheese in the Empire. Queen Astarte, and Zadig the famous minister, were extremely fond of it. I had supplied their households with six hundred cheeses, and one day I went to town to be paid; but on reaching Babylon, I learned that the Queen and Zadig had disappeared. I ran to where Lord Zadig lived, though I had never seen him, and there I found the agents of the Supreme Council systematically pillaging his house in strict obedience to a legal warrant. I flew to the Queen’s kitchens; some of those in charge told me she was dead, some said she was in prison, and others maintained that she had fled; but all assured me that no one would pay me for my cheeses. I went with my wife to call upon Lord Orcan, who was one of my customers, and to beg his protection in our misfortune. He agreed to protect my wife, but me he refused. She was whiter than the cream cheese from which my un-happiness arose. The brilliance of Tyrian purple was not more dazzling than the roses which enhanced the fairness of her skin. That was what determined Orcan to keep her and to turn me out of his house. I wrote my dear wife a letter in my distress.

  ‘ “Oh, yes!” she said to the bearer. “I know the man this letter is from. I have heard of him. They say he makes excellent cream cheese; please have some delivered, and see that he is paid.”

  ‘In my misfortune I decided to appeal to Justice. I had six ounces of gold left : two ounces had to be given to the solicitor I consulted, two to the barrister who undertook my case, and two to the Chief Justice’s secretary. When all that was done, my case had not yet come up for hearing, and
I had already spent more money than my cheeses and my wife were worth. I returned to my village intending to sell my house to get possession of my wife.

  ‘My house was worth sixty ounces of gold, but it was obvious that I was poor and anxious to sell. The first man I approached offered me thirty ounces for it, the second offered me twenty, and the third ten. I was just about to settle in blind desperation when a Prince of Hyrcania marched on Babylon, destroying everything in his way. My house was first pillaged and then burnt to the ground.

  ‘Having thus lost my money, my wife, and my house, I withdrew to this region where you now see me. I have tried to make a living as a fisherman, but the fish mock me just as men do. I catch nothing, and I am dying of hunger. But for your noble sympathy, I should have perished in the river.’

  The fisherman did not tell this story without interruption, for Zadig kept breaking in with great agitation :

  ‘Then you know nothing of the Queen’s fate?’

  ‘No, my lord,’ the fisherman would reply. ‘But I know that the Queen and Zadig never paid me for my cream cheeses, that I have been robbed of my wife, and that I am in despair.’

  ‘I am pretty sure,’ said Zadig, ‘that you will not lose all your money. I have heard of this Zadig; he’s an honest man; and if he returns to Babylon, as he hopes, he will give you more than he owes you. But as for your wife, she’s not so honest. I recommend you not to try to recover her. Take my advice, and go to Babylon; I shall be there before you because I am on horseback, and you are on foot. Seek audience of the noble Cador; tell him that you have met his friend, and wait for me at his house. Be off now; perhaps you won’t always be unhappy.’

  ‘All-powerful Ormuzd!’ he continued, ‘you call on me to console this man, but on whom will you call to console me?’