The
following story was shared with me by a friend. He has no idea of the
author, but I tracked it down to Zadig by Voltaire, a book I read in
college French classes and so, therefore, the story, reworked in the
version sent by my friend, sounded familiar. For me, everything was
predictable from about halfway through, and the story message was
evident. Not so for my friend, perhaps because his life has been more
complicated than mine. I am curious about your reactions to it.
In the
reign of King Moabdar there lived at Babylon
a young man named Zadig. He was handsome, rich, and naturally good-hearted; and at the moment when the story
opens, he was travelling on foot to see the world, and to learn philosophy and
wisdom. But, hitherto, he had encountered so much misery, and endured so many
terrible disasters, that he had become tempted to rebel against the will of
Heaven, and to believe that the Providence which rules the world neglects the
good, and lets the evil prosper. In this unhappy spirit he was one day walking
on the banks of the Euphrates, when he chanced
to meet a venerable hermit, whose snowy beard descended to his girdle, and who
carried in his hand a scroll which he was reading with attention. Zadig
stopped, and made him a low bow. The hermit returned the salutation with an air
so kindly, and so noble, that Zadig felt a curiosity to speak to him. He
inquired what scroll was that which he was reading.
“It is the Book of Destiny," replied
the hermit, “would you like to read it?"
He handed it to Zadig; but the latter,
though he new a dozen languages, could not understand a word of it. His curiosity
increased.
“You appear to be in trouble," said the
kindly hermit.
“Alas!” said Zadig, "I have cause to be
so."
“If you will allow me," said the
hermit, "I will accompany you. Perhaps I may be useful to you. I am
sometimes able to console the sorrowful."
Zadig felt a deep respect for the
appearance, the white beard, and the mysterious scroll of the old hermit, and perceived
that his conversation was that of a superior mind. The old man spoke of
destiny, of justice, of morality, of the chief good of life, of human frailty,
of virtue and of vice, with so much power and eloquence that Zadig felt himself
attracted by a kind of charm, and besought the hermit not to leave him until
they should return to Babylon.
”I ask you the same favor," said the
hermit. "Promise me that, whatever I may do, you will keep me company for
several days."
Zadig gave the promise; and they set forth
together.
That night the travelers arrived at a grand
mansion. The hermit begged for food and lodging for himself and his companion.
The porter, who might have been mistaken for a prince, ushered them in with a
contemptuous air of welcome. The chief servant showed them the magnificent apartments;
and they were then admitted to the bottom of the table, where the master of the
mansion did not condescend to cast a glance at them. They were, however, served
with delicacies in profusion, and after dinner washed their hands in a golden
basin set with emeralds and rubies. They were then conducted for the night into
a beautiful apartment; and the next morning, before they left the castle, a servant
brought them each a piece of gold.
“The master of the house," said Zadig,
as they went their way, "appears to be a generous man, although a trifle
haughty. He practices a noble hospitality." As he spoke, he perceived that
a kind of large pouch which the hermit carried appeared singularly distended;
within it was the golden basin, set with precious stones, which the old man had
purloined. Zadig was amazed; but he said nothing.
At noon the hermit stopped before a little
house, in which lived a wealthy miser, and once more asked for hospitality. An
old valet in a shabby coat received them very rudely, showed them into the
stable, and set before them a few rotten olives, some mouldy bread, and beer
which had turned sour. The hermit ate and drank with as much content as he had shown
the night before; then, addressing the old valet, who had kept his eye upon them
to make sure that they stole nothing, he gave him the two gold pieces which
they had received that morning, and thanked him for his kind attention.
"Be so good,” he added, “as to let me see your master."
The astonished valet showed them in.
"Most mighty signor," said the
hermit, "I can only render you my humble thanks for the noble manner in
which you have received us. I beseech you to accept this golden basin as a token
of my gratitude."
The miser almost fell backwards with
amazement. The hermit, without waiting for him to recover, set off with speed, with
his companion.
“Holy Father," said Zadig, "what
does all this mean? You seem to me to resemble other men in nothing. You steal
a golden basin set with jewels from a signor who receives you with
magnificence, and you give it to curmudgeon who treats you with indignity.
“My son," replied the hermit,
"this mighty lord, who only welcomes travelers through vanity, and to
display his riches, will henceforth grow wiser, while the miser will be taught
to practice hospitality. Be amazed at nothing, and follow me."
Zadig knew not whether he was dealing with
the most foolish or the wisest of all men. But the hermit spoke with such
ascendency that Zadig, who besides was fettered by his promise, had no choice
except to follow him.
That night they came to an agreeable house,
of simple aspect, and showing signs of neither prodigality nor avarice. The owner
was a philosopher, who had left the world, and who studied peacefully the rules
of virtue and of wisdom, and who yet was happy and contented. He had built this
calm retreat to please himself, and he received the strangers in it with a
frankness which displayed no sign of ostentation. He conducted them himself to
a comfortable chamber, where he made them rest awhile; then he returned to lead
them to a dainty little supper. During their conversation they agreed that the
affairs of this world are not always regulated by the opinions of the wisest of
men. But the hermit still maintained that the ways of Providence are wrapped in mystery, and that
men do wrong to pass their judgment on a universe of which they only see the
smallest part. Zadig wondered how a person who committed such mad acts could
reason so correctly.
At length, after a conversation as agreeable
as instructive, the host conducted the two travelers to their apartment, and
thanked heaven for sending him two visitors so wise and virtuous. He offered
them some money, but so frankly that they could not feel offended. The old man
declined, and desired to say farewell, as he intended to depart for Babylon at break of a day.
They therefore parted on the warmest terms, and Zadig, above all, was filled
with kindly feelings towards so amiable a man.
When the hermit and himself were in their
chamber, they spent some time in praises of their host. At break of day the old
man woke his comrade.
"We must be going," he remarked.
"But while everyone is still asleep, I wish to leave this worthy man a
pledge of my esteem." With these words, he took a torch and set the house
on fire.
Zadig burst forth into cries of horror and
would have stopped the frightful act. But the hermit, by superior strength,
drew him away. The house was in a blaze; and the old man, who was now a good way
off with his companion, looked back calmly at the burning pile.
"Heaven be praised!" he cried.
"Our kind host’s house is destroyed from top to bottom!"
At these words Zadig knew not whether he
should burst out laughing, call the reverend father an old rascal, knock him
down, or run away. But he did none of these things. Still subdued by the
superior manner of the hermit, he followed him against his will to their next
lodging.
This was the dwelling of a good and
charitable widow, who had a nephew of fourteen, her only hope and joy. She did her best to use the travelers well;
and the next morning she bade her nephew guide them safely past a certain bridge,
which, having recently been broken, had become dangerous to cross over. The
youth, eager to oblige them, led the way.
“Come,” said the hermit, when they were half
across the bridge, "I must show my gratitude towards your aunt;” as he
spoke he seized the young man by the hair and threw him into the river. The
youth fell, reappeared for an instant on the surface, and then was swallowed by
the torrent.
“Oh, monster!” exclaimed Zadig, "oh,
most detestable of men!”
“You promised me more patience,"
interrupted the old man. “Listen! Beneath the ruins of that house which Providence
saw fit to set on fire, the owner will discover an enormous treasure; while
this young man, whose existence Providence cut short, would have killed his aunt
within a year, and you yourself in two."
“Who
told you so, barbarian?" cried Zadig, "and even if you read the issue
in your Book of Destiny, who gave you power to drown a youth who never injured
you?”
While he spoke, he saw that the old man had
a beard no longer, and that his face had become fair and young; his hermit's
dress had disappeared: four white wings covered his majestic form, and shone
with dazzling lustre.
“Angel of heaven!" cried Zadig,
"you are then descended from the skies to teach an erring mortal to submit
to the eternal laws?"
“Men,” replied the angel Jezrael,
"judge all things without knowledge; and you, of all men, most deserved to
be enlightened. The world imagines that the youth who has just perished fell by
chance into the water, and that by a like chance the rich man's house was set on
fire. But there is no such thing as chance; all is trial, or punishment, or
foresight. Feeble mortal, cease to argue and rebel against what you ought to
adore!”
As he
spoke these words the angel took his flight to heaven. And Zadig fell upon his
knees.
