Seeing the peril of our position, and the evil effect of his stupid,
incantations upon the minds of the sailors whom the ignorant priest was
throwing into the apathy of despair, instead of keeping up their
courage, I thought it prudent to interfere. I went up the rigging,
calling upon the sailors to do their duty cheerfully, telling them that
there were no devils, and that the priest who pretended to see them was
a fool. But it was in vain that I spoke in the most forcible manner, in
vain that I went to work myself, and shewed that safety was only to be
insured by active means, I could not prevent the priest declaring that I
was an Atheist, and he managed to rouse against me the anger of the
greatest part of the crew. The wind continued to lash the sea into fury
for the two following days, and the knave contrived to persuade the
sailors who listened to him that the hurricane would not abate as long
as I was on board. Imbued with that conviction, one of the men, thinking
he had found a good opportunity of fulfilling the wishes of the priest,
came up to me as I was standing at the extreme end of the forecastle,
and pushed me so roughly that I was thrown over. I should have been
irretrievably lost, but the sharp point of an anchor, hanging along the
side of the ship, catching in my clothes, prevented me from falling in
the sea, and proved truly my sheet-anchor. Some men came to my
assistance, and I was saved. A corporal then pointed out to me the
sailor who had tried to murder me, and taking a stout stick I treated
the scoundrel to a sound thrashing; but the sailors, headed by the
furious priest, rushed towards us when they heard his screams, and I
should have been killed if the soldiers had not taken my part. The
commander and M. Dolfin then came on deck, but they were compelled to
listen to the chaplain, and to promise, in order to pacify the vile
rabble, that they would land me at the first opportunity. But even this
was not enough; the priest demanded that I should give up to him a
certain parchment that I had purchased from a Greek at Malamocco just
before sailing. I had no recollection of it, but it was true. I laughed,
and gave it to M. Dolfin; he handed it to the fanatic chaplain, who,
exulting in his victory, called for a large pan of live coals from the
cook's galley, and made an auto-da-fe of the document. The unlucky
parchment, before it was entirely consumed, kept writhing on the fire
for half an hour, and the priest did not fail to represent those
contortions as a miracle, and all the sailors were sure that it was an
infernal manuscript given to me by the devil. The virtue claimed for
that piece of parchment by the man who had sold it to me was that it
insured its lucky possessor the love of all women, but I trust my
readers will do me the justice to believe that I had no faith whatever
in amorous philtres, talismans, or amulets of any kind: I had purchased
it only for a joke.
You can find throughout Italy, in Greece, and generally in every country
the inhabitants of which are yet wrapped up in primitive ignorance, a
tribe of Greeks, of Jews, of astronomers, and of exorcists, who sell
their dupes rags and toys to which they boastingly attach wonderful
virtues and properties; amulets which render invulnerable, scraps of
cloth which defend from witchcraft, small bags filled with drugs to keep
away goblins, and a thousand gewgaws of the same description. These
wonderful goods have no marketable value whatever in France, in England,
in Germany, and throughout the north of Europe generally, but, in
revenge, the inhabitants of those countries indulge in knavish practices
of a much worse kind.
The storm abated just as the innocent parchment was writhing on the
fire, and the sailors, believing that the spirits of hell had been
exorcised, thought no more of getting rid of my person, and after a
prosperous voyage of a week we cast anchor at Corfu. As soon as I had
found a comfortable lodging I took my letters to his eminence the
proveditore-generale, and to all the naval commanders to whom I was
recommended; and after paying my respects to my colonel, and making the
acquaintance of the officers of my regiment, I prepared to enjoy myself
until the arrival of the Chevalier Venier, who had promised to take me
to Constantinople. He arrived towards the middle of June, but in the
mean time I had been playing basset, and had lost all my money, and sold
or pledged all my jewellery.
Such must be the fate awaiting every man who has a taste for gambling,
unless he should know how to fix fickle fortune by playing with a real
advantage derived from calculation or from adroitness, which defies
chance. I think that a cool and prudent player can manage both without
exposing himself to censure, or deserving to be called a cheat.
During the month that I spent in Corfu, waiting for the arrival of M.
Venier, I did not devote any time to the study, either moral or
physical, of the country, for, excepting the days on which I was on
duty, I passed my life at the coffee-house, intent upon the game, and
sinking, as a matter of course, under the adverse fortune which I braved
with obstinacy. I never won, and I had not the moral strength to stop
till all my means were gone. The only comfort I had, and a sorry one
truly, was to hear the banker himself call me--perhaps sarcastically--a
fine player, every time I lost a large stake. My misery was at its
height, when new life was infused in me by the booming of the guns fired
in honour of the arrival of the bailo. He was on board the Europa, a
frigate of seventy-two guns, and he had taken only eight days to sail
from Venice to Corfu. The moment he cast anchor, the bailo hoisted his
flag of captain-general of the Venetian navy, and the proveditore hauled
down his own colours. The Republic of Venice has not on the sea any
authority greater than that of Bailo to the Porte. The Chevalier Venier
had with him a distinguished and brilliant suite; Count Annibal Gambera,
Count Charles Zenobio, both Venetian noblemen of the first class, and
the Marquis d'Anchotti of Bressan, accompanied him to Constantinople for
their own amusement. The bailo remained a week in Corfu, and all the
naval authorities entertained him and his suite in turn, so that there
was a constant succession of balls and suppers. When I presented myself
to his excellency, he informed me that he had already spoken to the
proveditore, who had granted me a furlough of six months to enable me to
accompany him to Constantinople as his adjutant; and as soon as the
official document for my furlough had been delivered to me, I sent my
small stock of worldly goods on board the Europa, and we weighed anchor
early the next day.
We sailed with a favourable wind which remained steady and brought us in
six days to Cerigo, where we stopped to take in some water. Feeling some
curiosity to visit the ancient Cythera, I went on shore with the sailors
on duty, but it would have been better for me if I had remained on
board, for in Cerigo I made a bad acquaintance. I was accompanied by the
captain of marines.
The moment we set foot on shore, two men, very poorly dressed and of
unprepossessing appearance, came to us and begged for assistance. I
asked them who they were, and one, quicker than the other, answered;
"We are sentenced to live, and perhaps to die, in this island by the
despotism of the Council of Ten. There are forty others as unfortunate
as ourselves, and we are all born subjects of the Republic.
"The crime of which we have been accused, which is not considered a
crime anywhere, is that we were in the habit of living with our
mistresses, without being jealous of our friends, when, finding our
ladies handsome, they obtained their favours with our ready consent. As
we were not rich, we felt no remorse in availing ourselves of the
generosity of our friends in such cases, but it was said that we were
carrying on an illicit trade, and we have been sent to this place, where
we receive every day ten sous in 'moneta lunga'. We are called 'mangia-
mayroni', and are worse off than galley slaves, for we are dying of
ennui, and we are often starving without knowing how to stay our hunger.
My name is Don Antonio Pocchini, I am of a noble Paduan family, and my
mother belongs to the illustrious family of Campo San-Piero."
We gave them some money, and went about the island, returning to the
ship after we had visited the fortress. I shall have to speak of that
Pocchini in a few years.
The wind continued in our favour, and we reached the Dardanelles in
eight or ten days; the Turkish barges met us there to carry us to
Constantinople. The sight offered by that city at the distance of a
league is truly wonderful; and I believe that a more magnificent
panorama cannot be found in any part of the world. It was that splendid
view which was the cause of the fall of the Roman, and of the rise of
the Greek empire. Constantine the Great, arriving at Byzantium by sea,
was so much struck with the wonderful beauty of its position, that he
exclaimed, "Here is the proper seat of the empire of the whole world!"
and in order to secure the fulfilment of his prediction, he left Rome
for Byzantium. If he had known the prophecy of Horace, or rather if he
had believed in it, he would not have been guilty of such folly. The
poet had said that the downfall of the Roman empire would begin only
when one of the successors of Augustus bethought him removing the
capital of the empire to where it had originated. The road is not far
distant from Thrace.
We arrived at the Venetian Embassy in Pera towards the middle of July,
and, for a wonder, there was no talk of the plague in Constantinople
just then. We were all provided with very comfortable lodgings, but the
intensity of the heat induced the baili to seek for a little coolness in
a country mansion which had been hired by the Bailo Dona. It was
situated at Bouyoudere. The very first order laid upon me was never to
go out unknown to the bailo, and without being escorted by a janissary,
and this order I obeyed to the letter. In those days the Russians had
not tamed the insolence of the Turkish people. I am told that foreigners
can now go about as much as they please in perfect security.
The day after our arrival, I took a janissary to accompany me to Osman
Pacha, of Caramania, the name assumed by Count de Bonneval ever since he
had adopted the turban. I sent in my letter, and was immediately shewn
into an apartment on the ground floor, furnished in the French fashion,
where I saw a stout elderly gentleman, dressed like a Frenchman, who, as
I entered the room, rose, came to meet me with a smiling countenance,
and asked me how he could serve the 'protege' of a cardinal of the Roman
Catholic Church, which he could no longer call his mother. I gave him
all the particulars of the circumstances which, in a moment of despair,
had induced me to ask the cardinal for letters of introduction for
Constantinople, and I added that, the letters once in my possession, my
superstitious feelings had made me believe that I was bound to deliver
them in person.
"Then, without this letter," he said, "you never would have come to
Constantinople, and you have no need of me?"
"True, but I consider myself fortunate in having thus made the
acquaintance of a man who has attracted the attention of the whole of
Europe, and who still commands that attention."
His excellency made some remark respecting the happiness of young men
who, like me, without care, without any fixed purpose, abandon
themselves to fortune with that confidence which knows no fear, and
telling me that the cardinal's letter made it desirable that he should
do something for me, he promised to introduce me to three or four of his
Turkish friends who deserved to be known. He invited me to dine with him
every Thursday, and undertook to send me a janissary who would protect
me from the insults of the rabble and shew me everything worth seeing.
The cardinal's letter representing me as a literary man, the pacha
observed that I ought to see his library. I followed him through the
garden, and we entered a room furnished with grated cupboards; curtains
could be seen behind the wirework; the books were most likely behind the
curtains.
Taking a key out of his pocket, he opened one of the cupboards, and,
instead of folios, I saw long rows of bottles of the finest wines. We
both laughed heartily.
"Here are," said the pacha, "my library and my harem. I am old, women
would only shorten my life but good wine will prolong it, or at least,
make it more agreeable.
"I imagine your excellency has obtained a dispensation from the mufti?"
"You are mistaken, for the Pope of the Turks is very far from enjoying
as great a power as the Christian Pope. He cannot in any case permit
what is forbidden by the Koran; but everyone is at liberty to work out
his own damnation if he likes. The Turkish devotees pity the libertines,
but they do not persecute them; there is no inquisition in Turkey. Those
who do not know the precepts of religion, say the Turks, will suffer
enough in the life to come; there is no need to make them suffer in this
life. The only dispensation I have asked and obtained, has been
respecting circumcision, although it can hardly be called so, because,
at my age, it might have proved dangerous. That ceremony is generally
performed, but it is not compulsory."
During the two hours that we spent together, the pacha enquired after
several of his friends in Venice, and particularly after Marc Antonio
Dieto. I told him that his friends were still faithful to their
affection for him, and did not find fault with his apostasy. He answered
that he was a Mahometan as he had been a Christian, and that he was not
better acquainted with the Koran than he had been with the Gospel. "I am
certain," he added, "that I shall die-calmer and much happier than
Prince Eugene. I have had to say that God is God, and that Mahomet is
the prophet. I have said it, and the Turks care very little whether I
believe it or not. I wear the turban as the soldier wears the uniform. I
was nothing but a military man; I could not have turned my hand to any
other profession, and I made up my mind to become lieutenant-general of
the Grand Turk only when I found myself entirely at a loss how to earn
my living. When I left Venice, the pitcher had gone too often to the
well, it was broken at last, and if the Jews had offered me the command
of an army of fifty thousand men, I would have gone and besieged
Jerusalem."
Bonneval was handsome, but too stout. He had received a sabre-cut in the
lower part of the abdomen, which compelled him to wear constantly a
bandage supported by a silver plate. He had been exiled to Asia, but
only for a short time, for, as he told me, the cabals are not so
tenacious in Turkey as they are in Europe, and particularly at the court
of Vienna. As I was taking leave of him, he was kind enough to say that,
since his arrival in Turkey, he had never passed two hours as pleasantly
as those he had just spent with me, and that he would compliment the
bailo about me.
The Bailo Dona, who had known him intimately in Venice, desired me to be
the bearer of all his friendly compliments for him, and M. Venier
expressed his deep regret at not being able to make his acquaintance.
The second day after my first visit to him being a Thursday, the pacha
did not forget to send a janissary according to his promise. It was
about eleven in the morning when the janissary called for me, I followed
him, and this time I found Bonneval dressed in the Turkish style. His
guests soon arrived, and we sat down to dinner, eight of us, all well
disposed to be cheerful and happy. The dinner was entirely French, in
cooking and service; his steward and his cook were both worthy French
renegades.
He had taken care to introduce me to all his guests and at the same time
to let me know who they were, but he did not give me an opportunity of
speaking before dinner was nearly over. The conversation was entirely
kept up in Italian, and I remarked that the Turks did not utter a single
word in their own language, even to say the most ordinary thing. Each
guest had near him a bottle which might have contained either white wine
or hydromel; all I know is that I drank, as well as M. de Bonneval, next
to whom I was seated, some excellent white Burgundy.
The guests got me on the subject of Venice, and particularly of Rome,
and the conversation very naturally fell upon religion, but not upon
dogmatic questions; the discipline of religion and liturgical questions
were alone discussed.
One of the guests, who was addressed as effendi, because he had been
secretary for foreign affairs, said that the ambassador from Venice to
Rome was a friend of his, and he spoke of him in the highest manner. I
told him that I shared his admiration for that ambassador, who had given
me a letter of introduction for a Turkish nobleman, whom he had
represented as an intimate friend. He enquired for the name of the
person to whom the letter was addressed, but I could not recollect it,
and took the letter out of my pocket-book. The effendi was delighted
when he found that the letter was for himself. He begged leave to read
it at once, and after he had perused it, he kissed the signature and
came to embrace me. This scene pleased M. de Bonneval and all his
friends. The effendi, whose name was Ismail, entreated the pacha to come
to dine with him, and to bring me; Bonneval accepted, and fixed a day.
Notwithstanding all the politeness of the effendi, I was particularly
interested during our charming dinner in a fine elderly man of about
sixty, whose countenance breathed at the same time the greatest sagacity
and the most perfect kindness. Two years afterwards I found again the
same features on the handsome face of M. de Bragadin, a Venetian senator
of whom I shall have to speak at length when we come to that period of
my life. That elderly gentleman had listened to me with the greatest
attention, but without uttering one word. In society, a man whose face
and general appearance excite your interest, stimulates strongly your
curiosity if he remains silent. When we left the dining-room I enquired
from de Bonneval who he was; he answered that he was wealthy, a
philosopher, a man of acknowledged merit, of great purity of morals, and
strongly attached to his religion. He advised me to cultivate his
acquaintance if he made any advances to me.
I was pleased with his advice, and when, after a walk under the shady
trees of the garden, we returned to a drawing-room furnished in the
Turkish fashion, I purposely took a seat near Yusuf Ali. Such was the
name of the Turk for whom I felt so much sympathy. He offered me his
pipe in a very graceful manner; I refused it politely, and took one
brought to me by one of M. de Bonneval's servants. Whenever I have been
amongst smokers I have smoked or left the room; otherwise I would have
fancied that I was swallowing the smoke of the others, and that idea
which is true and unpleasant, disgusted me. I have never been able to
understand how in Germany the ladies, otherwise so polite and delicate,
could inhale the suffocating fumes of a crowd of smokers.
Yusuf, pleased to have me near him, at once led the conversation to
subjects similar to those which had been discussed at table, and
particularly to the reasons which had induced me to give up the peaceful
profession of the Church and to choose a military life; and in order to
gratify his curiosity without losing his good opinion, I gave him, but
with proper caution, some of the particulars of my life, for I wanted
him to be satisfied that, if I had at first entered the career of the
holy priesthood, it had not been through any vocation of mine. He seemed
pleased with my recital, spoke of natural vocations as a Stoic
philosopher, and I saw that he was a fatalist; but as I was careful not
to attack his system openly, he did not dislike my objections, most
likely because he thought himself strong enough to overthrow them.
I must have inspired the honest Mussulman with very great esteem, for he
thought me worthy of becoming his disciple; it was not likely that he
could entertain the idea of becoming himself the disciple of a young man
of nineteen, lost, as he thought, in a false religion.
After spending an hour in examining me, in listening to my principles,
he said that he believed me fit to know the real truth, because he saw
that I was seeking for it, and that I was not certain of having obtained
it so far. He invited me to come and spend a whole day with him, naming
the days when I would be certain to find him at home, but he advised me
to consult the Pacha Osman before accepting his invitation. I told him
that the pacha had already mentioned him to me and had spoken very
highly of his character; he seemed much pleased. I fixed a day for my
visit, and left him.
I informed M. de Bonneval of all that had occurred; he was delighted,
and promised that his janissary would be every day at the Venetian
palace, ready to execute my orders.
I received the congratulations of the baili upon the excellent
acquaintances I had already made, and M. Venier advised me not to
neglect such friends in a country where weariness of life was more
deadly to foreigners than the plague.
On the day appointed, I went early to Yusuf's palace, but he was out.
His gardener, who had received his instructions, shewed me every
attention, and entertained me very agreeably for two hours in doing the
honours of his master's splendid garden, where I found the most
beautiful flowers. This gardener was a Neapolitan, and had belonged to
Yusuf for thirty years. His manners made me suspect that he was well
born and well educated, but he told me frankly that he had never been
taught even to read, that he was a sailor when he, was taken in slavery,
and that he was so happy in the service of Yusuf that liberty would be a
punishment to him. Of course I did not venture to address him any
questions about his master, for his reserve might have put my curiosity
to the blush.
Yusuf had gone out on horseback; he returned, and, after the usual
compliments, we dined alone in a summerhouse, from which we had a fine
view of the sea, and in which the heat was cooled by a delightful
breeze, which blows regularly at the same hour every day from the north-
west; and is called the mistral. We had a good dinner; there was no
prepared dish except the cauroman, a peculiar delicacy of the Turks. I
drank water and hydromel, and I told Yusuf that I preferred the last to
wine, of which I never took much at that time. "Your hydromel," I said,
"is very good, and the Mussulmans who offend against the law by drinking
wine do not deserve any indulgence; I believe they drink wine only
because it is forbidden." "Many of the true believers," he answered,
"think that they can take it as a medicine. The Grand Turk's physician
has brought it into vogue as a medicine, and it has been the cause of
his fortune, for he has captivated the favour of his master who is in
reality constantly ill, because he is always in a state of
intoxication." I told Yusuf that in my country drunkards were scarce,
and that drunkenness was a vice to be found only among the lowest
people; he was much astonished. "I cannot understand," he said, "why
wine is allowed by all religions, when its use deprives man of his
reason."--"All religions," I answered, "forbid excess in drinking wine,
and the crime is only in the abuse." I proved him the truth of what I
had said by telling him that opium produced the same results as wine,
but more powerfully, and consequently Mahomet ought to have forbidden
the use of it. He observed that he had never taken either wine or opium
in the course of his life.
After dinner, pipes were brought in and we filled them ourselves. I was
smoking with pleasure, but, at the same time, was expectorating. Yusuf,
who smoked like a Turk, that is to say, without spitting, said,--
"The tobacco you are now smoking is of a very fine quality, and you
ought to swallow its balsam which is mixed with the saliva."
"I suppose you are right; smoking cannot be truly enjoyed without the
best tobacco."
"That is true to a certain extent, but the enjoyment found in smoking
good tobacco is not the principal pleasure, because it only pleases our
senses; true enjoyment is that which works upon the soul, and is
completely independent of the senses."
"I cannot realize pleasures enjoyed by the soul without the
instrumentality of the senses."
"Listen to me. When you fill your pipe do you feel any pleasure?"
"Yes."
"Whence does that pleasure arise, if it is not from your soul? Let us go
further. Do you not feel pleased when you give up your pipe after having
smoked all the tobacco in it--when you see that nothing is left but some
ashes?"
"It is true."
"Well, there are two pleasures in which your senses have certainly
nothing to do, but I want you to guess the third, and the most
essential."
"The most essential? It is the perfume."
"No; that is a pleasure of the organ of smelling--a sensual pleasure."
"Then I do not know."
"Listen. The principal pleasure derived from tobacco smoking is the
sight of a smoke itself. You must never see it go out of the bowl of
your pipe,--but only from the corner of your mouth, at regular intervals
which must not be too frequent. It is so truly the greatest pleasure
connected with the pipe, that you cannot find anywhere a blind man who
smokes. Try yourself the experiment of smoking a pipe in your room, at
night and without a light; you will soon lay the pipe down."
"It is all perfectly true; yet you must forgive me if I give the
preference to several pleasures, in which my senses are interested, over
those which afford enjoyment only to my soul."
"Forty years ago I was of the same opinion, and in forty years, if you
succeed in acquiring wisdom, you will think like me. Pleasures which
give activity to our senses, my dear son, disturb the repose of our
soul--a proof that they do not deserve the name of real enjoyments."
"But if I feel them to be real enjoyments, it is enough to prove that
they are truly so."
"Granted; but if you would take the trouble of analyzing them after you
have tasted them, you would not find them unalloyed."
"It may be so, but why should I take a trouble which would only lessen
my enjoyment."
"A time will come when you will feel pleasure in that very trouble."
"It strikes me, dear father, that you prefer mature age to youth."
"You may boldly say old age."
"You surprise me. Must I believe that your early life has been unhappy?"
"Far from it. I was always fortunate in good health, and the master of
my own passions; but all I saw in my equals was for me a good school in
which I have acquired the knowledge of man, and learned the real road to
happiness. The happiest of men is not the most voluptuous, but the one
who knows how to choose the highest standards of voluptuousness, which
can be found, I say again, not in the pleasures which excite our senses,
but in those which give greater repose to the soul."
"That is the voluptuousness which you consider unalloyed."
"Yes, and such is the sight of a vast prairie all covered with grass.
The green colour, so strongly recommended by our divine prophet, strikes
my eyes, and at the same moment I feel that my soul is wrapped up in a
calm so delightful that I fancy myself nearer the Creator. I enjoy the
same peace, the same repose, when I am seated on the banks of a river,
when I look upon the water so quiet, yet always moving, which flows
constantly, yet never disappears from my sight, never loses any of its
clearness in spite of its constant motion. It strikes me as the image of
my own existence, and of the calm which I require for my life in order
to reach, like the water I am gazing upon, the goal which I do not see,
and which can only be found at the other end of the journey."
Thus did the Turk reason, and we passed four hours in this sort of
conversation. He had buried two wives, and he had two sons and one
daughter. The eldest son, having received his patrimony, had established
himself in the city of Salonica, where he was a wealthy merchant; the
other was in the seraglio, in the service of the Grand Turk and his
fortune was in the hands of a trustee. His daughter, Zelmi, then fifteen
years of age, was to inherit all his remaining property. He had given
her all the accomplishments which could minister to the happiness of the
man whom heaven had destined for her husband. We shall hear more of that
daughter anon. The mother of the three children was dead, and five years
previous to the time of my visit, Yusuf had taken another wife, a native
of Scio, young and very beautiful, but he told me himself that he was
now too old, and could not hope to have any child by her. Yet he was
only sixty years of age. Before I left, he made me promise to spend at
least one day every week with him.
At supper, I told the baili how pleasantly the day had passed.
"We envy you," they said, "the prospect you have before you of spending
agreeably three or four months in this country, while, in our quality of
ministers, we must pine away with melancholy."
A few days afterwards, M. de Bonneval took me with him to dine at
Ismail's house, where I saw Asiatic luxury on a grand scale, but there
were a great many guests, and the conversation was held almost entirely
in the Turkish language--a circumstance which annoyed me and M. de
Bonneval also. Ismail saw it, and he invited me to breakfast whenever I
felt disposed, assuring me that he would have much pleasure in receiving
me. I accepted the invitation, and I went ten or twelve days afterwards.
When we reach that period my readers must kindly accompany me to the
breakfast. For the present I must return to Yusuf who, during my second
visit, displayed a character which inspired, me with the greatest esteem
and the warmest affection.
We had dined alone as before, and, conversation happening to turn upon
the fine arts, I gave my opinion upon one of the precepts in the Koran,
by which the Mahometans are deprived of the innocent enjoyment of
paintings and statues. He told me that Mahomet, a very sagacious
legislator, had been right in removing all images from the sight of the
followers of Islam.
"Recollect, my son, that the nations to which the prophet brought the
knowledge of the true God were all idolators. Men are weak; if the
disciples of the prophet had continued to see the same objects, they
might have fallen back into their former errors."
"No one ever worshipped an image as an image; the deity of which the
image is a representation is what is worshipped."
"I may grant that, but God cannot be matter, and it is right to remove
from the thoughts of the vulgar the idea of a material divinity. You are
the only men, you Christians, who believe that you see God."
"It is true, we are sure of it, but observe that faith alone gives us
that certainty."
"I know it; but you are idolators, for you see nothing but a material
representation, and yet you have a complete certainty that you see God,
unless you should tell me that faith disaffirms it."
"God forbid I should tell you such a thing! Faith, on the contrary,
affirms our certainty."
"We thank God that we have no need of such self-delusion, and there is
not one philosopher in the world who could prove to me that you require
it."
"That would not be the province of philosophy, dear father, but of
theology--a very superior science."
"You are now speaking the language of our theologians, who differ from
yours only in this; they use their science to make clearer the truths we
ought to know, whilst your theologians try to render those truths more
obscure."
"Recollect, dear father, that they are mysteries."
"The existence of God is a sufficiently important mystery to prevent men
from daring to add anything to it. God can only be simple; any kind of
combination would destroy His essence; such is the God announced by our
prophet, who must be the same for all men and in all times. Agree with
me that we can add nothing to the simplicity of God. We say that God is
one; that is the image of simplicity. You say that He is one and three
at the same time, and such a definition strikes us as contradictory,
absurd, and impious."
"It is a mystery."
"Do you mean God or the definition? I am speaking only of the
definition, which ought not to be a mystery or absurd. Common sense, my
son, must consider as absurd an assertion which is substantially
nonsensical. Prove to me that three is not a compound, that it cannot be
a compound and I will become a Christian at once."
"My religion tells me to believe without arguing, and I shudder, my dear
Yusuf, when I think that, through some specious reasoning, I might be
led to renounce the creed of my fathers. I first must be convinced that
they lived in error. Tell me whether, respecting my father's memory, I
ought to have such a good opinion of myself as to sit in judgement over
him, with the intention of giving my sentence against him?"
My lively remonstrance moved Yusuf deeply, but after a few instants of
silence he said to me,--
"With such feelings, my son, you are sure to find grace in the eyes of
God, and you are, therefore, one of the elect. If you are in error, God
alone can convince you of it, for no just man on earth can refute the
sentiment you have just given expression to."
We spoke of many other things in a friendly manner, and in the evening
we parted with the often repeated assurance of the warmest affection and
of the most perfect devotion.
But my mind was full of our conversation, and as I went on pondering
over the matter, I thought that Yusuf might be right in his opinion as
to the essence of God, for it seemed evident that the Creator of all
beings ought to be perfectly simple; but I thought at the same time how
impossible it would be for me, because the Christian religion had made a
mistake, to accept the Turkish creed, which might perhaps have just a
conception of God, but which caused me to smile when I recollected that
the man who had given birth to it had been an arrant imposter. I had not
the slightest idea, however, that Yusuf wished to make a convert of me.
The third time I dined with him religion was again the subject of
conversation.
"Do you believe, dear father, that the religion of Mahomet is the only
one in which salvation can be secured?"
"No, my dear son, I am not certain of it, and no man can have such a
certainty; but I am sure that the Christian religion is not the true
one, because it cannot be universal."
"Why not?"
"Because there is neither bread nor wine to be found in three-fourths of
the world. Observe that the precepts of the Koran can be followed
everywhere."
I did not know how to answer, and I would not equivocate.
"If God cannot be matter," I said, "then He must be a spirit?"
"We know what He is not but we do not know what He is: man cannot affirm
that God is a spirit, because he can only realize the idea in an
abstract manner. God is immaterial; that is the extent of our knowledge
and it can never be greater."
I was reminded of Plato, who had said exactly the same and most
certainly Yusuf never read Plato.
He added that the existence of God could be useful only to those who did
not entertain a doubt of that existence, and that, as a natural
consequence, Atheists must be the most miserable of men. God has made in
man His own image in order that, amongst all the animals created by Him,
there should be one that can understand and confess the existence of the
Creator. Without man, God would have no witness of His own glory, and
man must therefore understand that his first and highest duty is to
glorify God by practising justice and trusting to His providence.
"Observe, my son, that God never abandons the man who, in the midst of
misfortunes, falls down in prayer before Him, and that He often allows
the wretch who has no faith in prayer to die miserably."
"Yet we meet with Atheists who are fortunate and happy."
"True; but, in spite of their tranquillity, I pity them because they
have no hope beyond this life, and are on a level with animals. Besides,
if they are philosophers, they must linger in dark ignorance, and, if
they never think, they have no consolation, no resource, when adversity
reaches them. God has made man in such a manner that he cannot be happy
unless he entertains no doubt of the existence of his Divine Creator; in
all stations of life man is naturally prone to believe in that
existence, otherwise man would never have admitted one God, Creator of
all beings and of all things."
"I should like to know why Atheism has only existed in the systems of
the learned, and never as a national creed."
"Because the poor feel their wants much more than the rich, There are
amongst us a great many impious men who deride the true believers
because they have faith in the pilgrimage to Mecca. Wretches that they
are, they ought to respect the ancient customs which, exciting the
devotion of fervent souls, feed religious principles, and impart courage
under all misfortunes. Without such consolation, people would give way
to all the excess of despair."
Much pleased with the attention I gave to all he said, Yusuf would thus
yield to the inclination he felt to instruct me, and, on my side,
feeling myself drawn towards him by the charm which amiable goodness
exerts upon all hearts, I would often go and spend the day with him,
even without any previous invitation, and Yusuf's friendship soon became
one of my most precious treasures.
One morning, I told my janissary to take me to the palace of Ismail
Effendi, in order to fulfil my promise to breakfast with him. He gave me
the most friendly welcome, and after an excellent breakfast he invited
me to take a walk in his garden. We found there a pretty summer-house
which we entered, and Ismail attempted some liberties which were not at
all to my taste, and which I resented by rising in a very abrupt manner.
Seeing that I was angry, the Turk affected to approve my reserve, and
said that he had only been joking. I left him after a few minutes, with
the intention of not visiting him again, but I was compelled to do so,
as I will explain by-and-by.
When I saw M. de Bonneval I told him what had happened and he said that,
according to Turkish manners, Ismail had intended to give me a great
proof of his friendship, but that I need not be afraid of the offence
being repeated. He added that politeness required that I should visit
him again, and that Ismail was, in spite of his failing, a perfect
gentleman, who had at his disposal the most beautiful female slaves in
Turkey.
Five or six weeks after the commencement of our intimacy, Yusuf asked me
one day whether I was married. I answered that I was not; the
conversation turned upon several moral questions, and at last fell upon
chastity, which, in his opinion, could be accounted a virtue only if
considered from one point of view, namely, that of total abstinence, but
he added that it could not be acceptable to God; because it transgressed
against the very first precept He had given to man.
"I would like to know, for instance," he said, "what name can be given
to the chastity of your knights of Malta. They take a vow of chastity,
but it does not mean that they will renounce women altogether, they
renounce marriage only. Their chastity, and therefore chastity in
general, is violated only by marriage; yet I observe that marriage is
one of your sacraments. Therefore, those knights of Malta promise not to
give way to lustful incontinence in the only case in which God might
forgive it, but they reserve the license of being lustful unlawfully as
often as they please, and whenever an opportunity may offer itself; and
that immoral, illicit license is granted to them to such an extent, that
they are allowed to acknowledge legally a child which can be born to
them only through a double crime! The most revolting part of it all is
that these children of crime, who are of course perfectly innocent
themselves, are called natural children, as if children born in wedlock
came into the world in an unnatural manner! In one word, my dear son,
the vow of chastity is so much opposed to Divine precepts and to human
nature that it can be agreeable neither to God nor to society, nor to
those who pledge themselves to keep it, and being in such opposition to
every divine and human law, it must be a crime."
He enquired for the second time whether I was married; I replied in the
negative, and added that I had no idea of ever getting married.
"What!" he exclaimed; "I must then believe that you are not a perfect
man, or that you intend to work out your own damnation; unless you
should tell me that you are a Christian only outwardly."
"I am a man in the very strongest sense of the word, and I am a true
Christian. I must even confess that I adore women, and that I have not
the slightest idea of depriving myself of the most delightful of all
pleasures."
"According to your religion, damnation awaits you."
"I feel certain of the contrary, because, when we confess our sins, our
priests are compelled to give us absolution."
"I know it, but you must agree with me that it is absurd to suppose that
God will forgive a crime which you would, perhaps, not commit, if you
did not think that, after confession, a priest, a man like you, will
give you absolution. God forgives only the repenting sinner."
"No doubt of it, and confession supposes repentance; without it,
absolution has no effect."
"Is onanism a crime amongst you?"
"Yes, even greater than lustful and illegitimate copulation."
"I was aware of it, and it has always caused me great surprise, for the
legislator who enacts a law, the execution of which is impossible, is a
fool. A man in good health, if he cannot have a woman, must necessarily
have recourse to onanism, whenever imperious nature demands it, and the man who, from fear of polluting his soul, would abstain from it, would only draw upon himself a mortal disease." |
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