by Voltaire
The other knights acquitted themselves better. Some overcame two combatants in succession, some as many as three. Only Prince Otames vanquished four. At last it was Zadig’s turn to fight. He unhorsed four knights in succession with all possible skill. Thus it only remained to be seen whether Otames or Zadig was the victor. Otames was wearing blue and gold armour with a plume of the same colours; Zadig’s armour was white. The supporters of the Blue and the White Knights were equally divided; but the Queen, whose heart was fluttering in anxiety, offered prayers to Heaven for a white victory.
The two champions made such dexterous thrusts and turns, they wielded their lances so skilfully and sat so firmly in the saddle, that everyone except the Queen wished that there could be two kings in Babylon. But at last, when their horses were tired and their lances broken, Zadig made a clever stroke. Passing behind the Blue Knight, he hurled himself upon the horse’s buttocks, and seizing his opponent round the waist he threw him to the earth; then, jumping into the saddle in his place, he wheeled round Otames, who lay stretched upon the ground.
The whole amphitheatre cried, ‘The White Knight has won!’
Otames, indignant, got up and drew his sword; at this Zadig leapt from his horse, sabre in hand. They then engaged in a new fight on the arena, with strength and skill triumphing turn and turn about. The plumes of their helmets, the bolts of their arm-guards, the very links of their chain mail leapt far and wide under the numberless blows which were rained upon them. They struck with point and with edge, now on the right side, now on the left, now at the head, and now at the breast; now they gave way, now they advanced; now they measured swords, now they closed in and seized each other; they twisted like serpents and attacked like lions. Sparks flew at every blow they struck. At last when Zadig had momentarily paused to recover, he stopped and made a feint; then, thrusting at Otames, he brought him down and disarmed him.
At this, Otames exclaimed: ‘White Knight! You are the man to reign over Babylon!’
The Queen was in an ecstasy of joy. The Blue Knight and the White Knight were each led back to his apartment as the law prescribed, just as all the other combatants had been. There they were attended by dumb servants, who brought them food to eat – perhaps it was the Queen’s little dumb servant who tended Zadig. They were then left by themselves to sleep till the following morning, when the victor was to present his device to the Archimage and to reveal his identity.
So tired was Zadig that he slept well in spite of being in love. Itobad, who lay near him, did not sleep at all. He got up during the night and went into Zadig’s apartment, took the white armour with Zadig’s device, and put his own green armour in its place. At daybreak he strode proudly before the Archimage and declared that he was the victor, even such a man as he. This was unexpected; nevertheless he was proclaimed while Zadig was still asleep. Astarte was amazed and returned to Babylon in the depths of despair.
The amphitheatre was already nearly empty when Zadig awoke. He searched for his arms, and could find only the green suit, but he was obliged to dress himself in it, as he had nothing else at hand. His indignation and astonishment can be imagined as he angrily put on this costume and sallied forth in it.
Those who were still in the amphitheatre and the arena all greeted him with jeers. He was surrounded and insulted to his face; never had a man to bear such gross humiliation. His patience gave way, and with a few strokes of his sabre he scattered the crowd who had presumed to affront him; but he did not know what course to take. He could not visit the Queen; he could not reclaim the white armour she had sent him, for that would have compromised her. Thus, while she was overcome with grief, he was in a state of fury and disquiet. He walked along the banks of the Euphrates, revolving in his mind all the disgraces he had suffered, from the time of the woman who hated one-eyed men down to this adventure with his armour, and he persuaded himself that his evil star had destined him to be unhappy and that there was no help for it.
‘That’s what comes of waking up too late,’ said he. ‘If I had not slept so well, I should be King of Babylon, and Astarte would be mine. Learning, virtue, and courage have only brought me misfortune.’
A murmur against Providence at last escaped him, and he was tempted to believe that all is governed by a cruel Destiny which persecutes good men and befriends knights in green. One source of vexation was wearing the green armour which had brought him so many insults. He sold it for less than it was worth to a merchant passing by and obtained from him a simple dress and hat. Thus arrayed, he wandered beside the Euphrates in deep despair, secretly accusing Providence of always persecuting him.
CHAPTER 18
THE HERMIT
As he walked along, he met a hermit whose white and venerable beard reached down to his girdle. In his hand he held a book, which he was reading attentively. Zadig stopped and made him a low bow, at which the hermit greeted him so mildly and graciously that Zadig was impelled to talk to him and ask him what book he was reading.
‘It is the Book of Destinies,’ said the hermit. ‘Would you like to look at it?’
He placed the book in Zadig’s hands; but although he knew several languages, Zadig was unable to decipher a single letter of it, which increased his curiosity still more.
‘You seem greatly troubled,’ said the worthy Father.
‘Alas! I have good reason to be!’ said Zadig.
‘If you will allow. me to accompany you,’ replied the old man, ‘perhaps I may be useful to you. I have sometimes afforded consolation to an unhappy spirit.’
The hermit’s manner, his beard, and his book all aroused Zadig’s respect. He found himself conversing with a superior intelligence, for the hermit spoke of Destiny, Justice, Morality, Sovereign Good, Human Frailty, Virtue, and Vice with such lively and affecting eloquence that Zadig felt drawn towards him by an irresistible charm, and earnestly begged him not to leave him until they returned to Babylon.
‘And I,’ said the old man, ‘have a favour to ask of you: swear by Ormuzd that for a few days you will not leave me whatever I may do.’
Zadig swore it, and they set off together.
That evening the two travellers arrived at a magnificent castle, where the hermit begged hospitality for himself and the young man who accompanied him. The porter, who might have been taken for a great nobleman, showed them in with a sort of disdainful kindness. They were handed over to a principal servant, who conducted them round his master’s magnificent rooms and then ushered them to the lower end of his table, without the lord of the castle honouring them with a glance; but like the others they were served with delicacy and profusion. They were then offered a golden basin studded with emeralds and rubies to wash in, and were taken to a beautiful bedroom to rest. Next morning a servant brought them each a piece of gold and dismissed them.
‘The master of the house,’ said Zadig, as they walked along, ‘seemed a bountiful man, even if a little proud. He has a noble idea of hospitality.’
As he said these words, he noticed that a kind of knapsack which the hermit carried bulged suspiciously, and inside it he saw the golden basin studded with jewels, which the hermit had stolen. He did not dare to draw attention to it, but he felt greatly surprised.
Towards midday the hermit knocked at the door of a mean little house where a rich miser lived, and asked for a few hours’ hospitality. An old servant in tattered dress gave him a surly reception and showed the hermit and Zadig into a stable, where they were given a few rotten olives to eat, with some stale bread and flat beer. The hermit ate and drank with as much contentment as he had shown the previous evening; then, turning to the old servant, who was watching them to see that they stole nothing and kept urging them to leave, he gave him the two pieces of gold he had received in the morning and thanked him for all his attention to their needs.
‘Be so good,’ he added, ‘as to let me speak to your master.’
The old servant was astonished at this request, but he took the two travellers and introduced them
.
‘My noble lord,’ said the hermit, ‘I can only give Your Grace the most humble thanks for the manner in which you have received us. Pray condescend to accept this golden basin as a humble token of my gratitude.’
The miser nearly fell backwards with surprise; but without waiting for him to recover from his astonishment, the hermit quickly departed with his young companion.
‘Father,’ said Zadig, ‘I can scarcely believe my senses. You don’t seem to behave at all like other men: you steal a golden basin studded with jewels from a nobleman who has entertained you magnificently, and you give it to a miser who has treated you with disrespect.’
‘My son,’ replied the hermit, ‘that grandee only entertains strangers out of vanity, to have his riches admired. He will become a wiser man, and the miser will learn to practise hospitality. Don’t let anything surprise you, and follow me.’
Zadig still did not know whether he was dealing with the most foolish or the wisest of men; but the hermit spoke with such authority that Zadig, who was bound by his promise moreover, could not refrain from following him.
That evening they came to a delightful house, built in a charming yet simple style, with no suggestion of meanness nor yet of prodigality. The owner was a sage who had retired from the world to study wisdom and virtue undisturbed, a pursuit of which he never wearied. He had taken delight in building himself this retreat, where he used to entertain strangers liberally yet without ostentation. He first led the two travellers himself to a comfortable room where he made them rest, then came himself some little time later to invite them to an elegant meal, at which he discreetly talked about the latest revolutions in Babylon. He professed sincere attachment to the Queen, and wished that Zadig had appeared in the lists to compete for the crown; ‘but’, he added, ‘men don’t deserve a king like Zadig’; at which Zadig blushed, and his griefs were renewed. They all agreed that things do not always happen in this world as the wisest men would like; but the hermit maintained that no one knows the ways of Providence, and that men were wrong to pass judgement on a whole of which they perceive only the smallest part.
They talked of the passions.
‘How disastrous they are!’ said Zadig.
‘No,’ said the hermit, ‘they are the winds which fill the sails of the ship. They overwhelm it sometimes; but without them it could not sail. Bile makes us sick and angry, but without bile we could not live. Everything in this life is dangerous, but everything is necessary.’
They talked of pleasure, and the hermit proved that it is a gift of God; for, said he, man cannot give himself either sensations or ideas : he receives them both. Pain and pleasure descend upon him from elsewhere, like his own being.
Zadig marvelled that a man could reason so well who had acted so oddly. At last, after conversation which had been both instructive and agreeable, their host led the two travellers to their room once more, and gave thanks to Heaven for having sent him two men so wise and virtuous. He offered them money so courteously that it would have been impossible to take offence; but the hermit refused to accept it, and said that he would take leave of him, as he intended to set out for Babylon before daybreak. They bade each other an affectionate farewell, Zadig in particular feeling both admiration and attachment for so worthy a man.
When the hermit and he were alone in their room, they had much to say to each other in praise of their host. At daybreak the old man roused his companion.
‘It is time for us to be away,’ he said. ‘But while everyone is still asleep, I want to leave this man a testimony of my esteem and affection.’
With these words, he took a torch and set fire to the house.
Zadig cried aloud in horror, and tried to prevent such a dreadful deed; but the hermit carried him off by superior force, and the house was left ablaze. When they had gone some distance from the scene, the hermit turned round and calmly watched the house burning.
‘Thank God for that!’ he said. ‘The house of my dear host is completely destroyed from top to bottom. He’s a lucky man!’
At this Zadig was tempted to burst out laughing and abuse the reverend father, and then to thrash him and run away; but he did none of these things, for the hermit had gained such an ascendancy over him that he was constrained to follow him to a night’s lodging for the last time.
They stayed with a virtuous and charitable widow, who had a nephew of fourteen, a boy full of good qualities and her only hope. She did the honours of her house as best she could, and next morning she told her nephew to accompany the travellers as far as a bridge which had recently been broken and where the river-crossing was dangerous in consequence. The boy readily obeyed, and walked in front of them.
When they were crossing the bridge, the hermit said to the boy: ‘Come here. I must show my gratitude to your aunt.’
He then took him by the hair, and threw him into the river. The child fell, and reappeared for a moment above the water before being swallowed up in the torrent.
‘You monster!’ cried Zadig. ‘You most abandoned villain!’
‘You promised me to have more patience,’ said the hermit, interrupting him. ‘Let me tell you that under the ruins of that house which Providence set on fire, the master has found immense treasure. And that boy whose neck Providence has wrung would have murdered his aunt within a year, and would have murdered you a year later.’
‘Who told you so, you wretch?’ cried Zadig. ‘And even if you read the event in that Book of Destinies of yours, who has given you permission, I should like to know, to drown a child that has done you no harm?’
As the Babylonian was speaking, he noticed that the old man no longer had a beard, and that his face was taking on the features of youth. His hermit’s garb disappeared, and four beautiful wings covered a body resplendent in majesty and light.
‘Heavenly messenger!’ cried Zadig, as he prostrated himself, ‘Angel of God! Now I see that you have descended from the Empyrean to teach a weak mortal to submit to the eternal edicts!’
‘Men judge everything,’ said the Angel Jesrad, ‘without understanding anything. Of all men it was you who most deserved enlightenment.’
Zadig asked permission to speak. ‘I distrust my judgement,’ said he. ‘But I have one doubt, and I must humbly beg you to resolve it : would it not have been better to correct that child and make him virtuous instead of drowning him?’
Jesrad replied : ‘If he had been virtuous and had lived, he was destined to be murdered himself, with the wife he was to marry and the child he was to have by her.’
‘But must there always be crime and misfortune?’ said Zadig. ‘Must misfortune always befall the good?’
‘Evildoers,’ replied Jesrad, ‘are always unhappy. They serve to test the small number of just men scattered over the Earth, and there is no evil which does not give rise to good.’
‘But supposing,’ said Zadig, ‘there were no evil, and there were only good?’
‘Then,’ replied Jesrad, ‘this world would be another world. The sequence of events would show another order of wisdom; and that other order, which would be perfect, can exist only in the eternal dwelling-place of the Supreme Being, whom evil cannot approach. He has created millions of worlds, each entirely unlike the rest. This immense variety is an attribute of his immense power. There are no two leaves of all the trees upon the earth, no two stars in the infinite fields of heaven, which are alike; and all that you see on this little atom where you were born must be fixed in its place and time according to the immutable decrees of him who encompasses all. Men think that this child who has just died fell into the water by accident, and that by such another accident the house was burned; but there is no such thing as accident. All is either trial or punishment, reward or foresight. Remember that fisherman who thought himself the most unhappy of men. Ormuzd sent you to change his destiny. You are a weak mortal, and have no business to argue about what you must adore.’
‘But –’ said Zadig.
As he said the wo
rd, the Angel took flight towards the Empyrean. Zadig fell on his knees, worshipping Providence in true submissiveness. The Angel called to him from high up in the air :
‘Make your way towards Babylon.’
CHAPTER 19
THE RIDDLES
ZADIG was beside himself, and walked at random, like a man who has narrowly escaped a thunderbolt. He entered Babylon on the day when those who had fought in the lists were already assembled in the great hall of the palace to solve the riddles and reply to questions from the Archimage. All the knights had arrived except Green Armour. As soon as Zadig appeared in the city, people gathered round; their eyes could not tire of looking at him or their lips of blessing him, and there was scarce a heart that did not wish the empire his. Green Eyes saw him pass and turned aside with a shudder, but the people carried him to the place of assembly. The Queen, who had been informed of his arrival, was in a tumult of hope and fear. She was a prey to anxiety, and could understand neither why Zadig was unarmed nor how Itobad had come to wear the white armour. A confused murmur arose at the sight of Zadig. There was surprise and pleasure at seeing him again; but only knights who had fought were allowed to appear in the assembly.
‘I fought like anyone else,’ said he. ‘But there is someone else here bearing my colours; and while awaiting the honour of proving it, I ask permission to be present for the solving of the riddles.’
A vote was taken; his reputation for uprightness was still so forcibly impressed on everyone’s mind that there was no hesitation in admitting him.