# Voltaire/Chapter 18

CHAPTER XVIII.
ZADIG.
Nothing was ever recounted more lightly and gracefully than the narrative by which Zadig is conducted through his adventures. These are altogether of the oriental type, such as the "Arabian Nights" has made familiar to us—prodigious occurrences, discoveries, and meetings that take place just at the right time; surprising ups and downs of fortune, penury and prodigality treading on one another's heels; the extreme of luxury prevailing at one moment, the most abject misery in the next. But while the gorgeous fancies of the East trust, and with reason, to their surprising incidents and splendid colouring alone for their effect, Voltaire has made his tale the setting of innumerable gems of satire, wisdom, and wit. The failings of humanity, the defects of society and of governments, the errors of theology, and the hypocrisy of priesthoods, are all in turn the subjects of what may be called raillery rather than sarcasm, which is a term too harsh for the pleasantries of the book. Also, like so many novels that hold a high and permanent place, it contains much of the personal experience of the author. Zadig is Voltaire, with increased ​personal advantages, and more simplicity, reticence, and modesty.
"It is astonishing that, having so much wit, he never insulted with his ridicule the chatterings, so vague, desultory, and confused, the reckless disparagements, the ignorant decisions, the gross jests, the vain noise of words, which is called conversation in Babylon. He had learnt in the first book of Zoroaster that self-love is a balloon filled with wind, whence issue tempests when it is pricked. Zadig, above all, did not make a boast of despising and conquering women. He was generous; he was not afraid of bestowing favours on the ungrateful, observing the great precept of Zoroaster: 'When you are eating, give something to the dogs lest they bite you.' He was also as wise as it is possible to be, for it was his aim to live with wise men. Learned in the sciences of the ancient Chaldeans, he was not ignorant of the facts of nature as ascertained in his own time, and knew of metaphysics as much as in all ages has been known—that is to say, very little. He was firmly persuaded that there were three hundred and sixty-five days and a quarter in the year, in spite of the new philosophy of the day, and that the sun was in the centre of the world; and when the chief Magians told him, with insulting superciliousness, that his sentiments were pernicious, and that to believe that the sun turned on itself, and that there were twelve months in the year, was to be the enemy of the State, he held his tongue, without anger, and without disdain."
In Zadig's early projects of matrimony he discovers, and submits with philosophic good-humour to, the inconstancy of women. He has a friend called Cador, and a wife called Azora; and the reader of their domestic history can hardly fail to be reminded of Genonville and Suzanne de Livry. There is also an envious man (an Abbé Desfontaines), who is always doing Zadig ill offices, which he requites with benefits. A certain bishop, Boyer, ​had been one of Voltaire's chief persecutors, and mainly instrumental in excluding him from the Academy—in the tale he figures as "an archimage, Yébor" (anagram of Boyer), "the most foolish, and therefore the most fanatical, of all the Chaldeans. This man would have had Zadig impaled for the greater glory of the sun, and would then have recited the breviary of Zoroaster in a more satisfied tone."
All the early misfortunes of Zadig, like those of Voltaire, are persecutions caused by his efforts to set people right. When these have quite crushed him, a happy discovery not only rescues him from capital punishment, by hanging, but renders him the favourite of the King of Babylon, in whose good graces he makes such progress as presently to become grand vizier; and under his sage and benevolent administration the empire attains to the height of prosperity and content. 'The king said, 'The great minister!' the queen said, 'The charming minister!' and both added, 'What a pity if he had been hanged.'" His adverse destiny, however, intervenes—the king is jealous of the queen's regard for him—and after many escapes he becomes the slave of an Arabian merchant, Sétoc, who presently discovers his merit and makes him his intimate friend. Zadig "was vexed to discover that Sétoc adored the celestial army—that is to say, the sun, moon, and stars—according to the ancient usage of Arabia." He argued with him, but in vain:—
"When evening came, Zadig lighted a great number of flambeaus in the tent where they were about to sup; and when his patron appeared, he cast himself on his knees before the waxlights, and thus addressed them: 'Eternal and brilliant luminaries, be ye always propitious to me!' Having offered ​this prayer, he seated himself at table without looking at Sétoc. 'What is the meaning of this?' said Sétoc, astonished. 'I do as you do,' answered Zadig. 'I adore these candles, while I neglect their master and mine.' Sétoc comprehended the profound sense of this apologue. The wisdom of his slave entered into his soul; he no more lavished incense on creations, but worshipped the Being who had made them."
Before he left Arabia with his master, he had, among other good acts, put a virtual end to the practice of permitting wives to burn themselves with their deceased husbands; and for this, he found on his return, he was to suffer:—
"During his journey to Bassora, the priests of the stars had resolved to punish him. The jewellery and ornaments of the young widows whom they sent to the pile had been the perquisite of the priests; and this was why they wished to burn Zadig for the ill turn he had played them. They therefore accused him of entertaining erroneous views about the celestial army; they deposed against him, and made oath that they had heard him affirm that the stars did not set in the sea. This frightful blasphemy caused the judges to tremble; they were ready to rend their garments when they heard these impious words—and would have done so, without doubt, if Zadig had had the means of paying for them. As it was, in the excess of their grief, they condemned him to be burnt at a slow fire."
From this fate, however, he was rescued, and despatched on business by his master to the Isle of Serendib, where he presently has relations as agreeable with Nabussan, its discerning monarch, as Voltaire's with Frederick, though the Oriental bears no resemblance to the Prussian ruler. Zadig's observations on the government of the island furnish the author with the oppor​tunity of a little satire on the farmers-general of the French revenue:—
"This good prince was always flattered, deceived, and robbed; it was who should most pillage his treasury. The receiver-general of Serendib always set the example, faithfully followed by the rest. This the king knew; he had often changed his treasurers, but he had never been able to change the established mode of dividing the king's revenues into two unequal parts, of which the smallest always came to his majesty, and the largest to the administrators.
"Nabussan confided his trouble to Zadig: 'You who know so many fine things,' said he, 'can you not tell me how to find a treasurer who will not rob me?' 'Assuredly,' said Zadig, 'I know an infallible mode of giving you a man who will keep his hands clean' The king was charmed, and asked, while he embraced him, how this was to be done. 'You have only,' said Zadig, 'to cause all those who present themselves for the dignity of treasurer to dance; he who dances the lightest will be infallibly the most honest man.' 'You jest,' said the king; 'a pleasant way certainly of choosing a receiver of my revenues! What! do you pretend that he who cuts the neatest caper will be the most upright and skilful financier?' 'I will not answer for his being the most skilful,' returned Zadig, 'but I assure you that he will, without doubt, be the most honest.' Zadig spoke with so much confidence that the king believed he had some supernatural secret by which to recognise financiers. 'I do not like the supernatural,' said Zadig; 'people and books who deal in prodigies have always displeased me. If your majesty will allow me to put what I propose to the proof, you will be convinced it is the easiest and simplest thing possible.' Nabussan was much more astonished to hear that the secret was simple, than if it had been given to him as a miracle. 'Well,' said he, 'do as you think proper.' 'Leave me alone for that,' said Zadig; 'you will gain more in this proof than you think for' The same day he made public, in the king's name, that all candidates for the post of receiver-in-chief of the ​moneys of his gracious majesty Nabussan, son of Nussanab, must present themselves in habits of light silk, on the first day of the month of the crocodile, in the king's ante-chamber. They came, accordingly, to the number of sixty-four. Musicians had been placed in a neighbouring saloon. All was prepared for the ball: but the door of this saloon was closed; and it was necessary, in order to enter it, to pass through a small gallery, which was somewhat dark. An usher went to meet and introduce each candidate in succession by this passage, in which each was left alone for some minutes. The king, aware of the plan, had spread out all his treasures in this gallery. When all were assembled in the saloon, the king ordered the dance to begin. Never had any dancers performed more heavily or with less grace; all held their heads down, their backs bent, their hands glued to their sides. 'What rascals!' murmured Zadig. One alone made his steps with agility, his head up, his look assured, his body straight, his arms extended, his thighs firm. 'Ah, the honest man, the excellent man!' cried Zadig. The king embraced this upright dancer, declaring him treasurer; and all the others were punished and taxed, with the utmost justice—for every one, in the time spent in the gallery, had filled his pockets, till he could hardly walk. The king was distressed for human nature that among these sixty-four dancers there should be sixty-three thieves. The dark gallery was named the Corridor of Temptation. In Persia these sixty-three lords would have been impaled; in other countries a chamber of justice would have consumed in costs three times the money stolen, replacing nothing in the king's coffers; in yet another kingdom they would have been honourably acquitted, and the light dancer disgraced; in Serendib they were only sentenced to add to the public treasure, for Nabussan was very indulgent."
Many and entertaining are the adventures by which the at length happy Zadig is elevated to the side of his beloved Astarte on the throne of Babylon; upon which ​event the envious man, the Babylonian Desfontaines, died of spite and shame; Cador, cherished according to his services, continued to be the friend of the king, "who was then the only monarch on earth who had a friend." Many just and beneficent actions were performed; and among others, a Babylonian noble who had deprived a fisherman of his savings and his wife (as previously made known to Zadig in one of his adventures), was compelled to give them back; "but the fisherman, grown wise, only took the money."
Some of our readers have probably, in their youth, met with Parnell's "Hermit;" and, as probably, that versified attempt to justify the ways of Providence will have appeared more than commonly unpleasant, even revolting. Although the fable, derived from the East, had been at least twice used before Parnell adopted it, yet, strange to say, the fertile and original Voltaire did not disdain to incorporate it, without acknowledgment and without advantage to the story, in his gem of a tale.