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Subject Area: Political Theory
Subject Area: History
Collection: Banned Books

LETTER CXXX.: Rica to * * *. - Charles Louis de Secondat, Baron de Montesquieu, Complete Works, vol. 3 (Grandeur and Declension of the Roman Empire; A Dialogue between Sylla and Eucrates; Persian Letters) [1721]

Edition used:

The Complete Works of M. de Montesquieu (London: T. Evans, 1777), 4 vols. Vol. 3.

Part of: Complete Works of Montesquieu, 4 vols.

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LETTER CXXX.

Rica to * * *.

I SHALL in this letter give thee an account of the race of Quidnuncs, who assemble in a magnificent garden, where their leisure finds constant employment. They are of no manner of use to the state; and were they to talk fifty years without pausing, their discourse would produce no greater effect than a silence of the same duration: yet they think themselves men of importance, because they harangue upon glorious projects, and talk of grand interests. A curiosity at once frivolous and ridiculous is the basis of their conversation: no cabinet can be so mysterious, but they pretend to dive into its secrets: they will not allow themselves to be ignorant of any thing; they know how many wives our august Sultan has, how many children he begets every year; and though they are at no expence to hire spies, they are acquainted with the measures to humble the emperor of the Turks and the Great Mogul. Scarcely have they exhausted the present, but they plunge deep into futurity; and taking the lead of providence, they prevent it in all its conduct towards man. They lead a general by the hand, and after having praised him for many follies of which he never was guilty, they make him commit a thousand more, which will never come to pass. They make armies fly like cranes, and the walls of cities fall as easily as the walls of a card-house: they have bridges upon all the rivers, secret roads upon every mountain, immense magazines upon burning sands: in fine, they want but one thing, and that is good sense. A man who lodges in the same house with me, received the following letter from a Quidnunc: as it appeared somewhat extraordinary, I kept it, and shall give it to you in this place.

‘Sir,

‘I am seldom mistaken in my conjectures upon public affairs. Upon the first of January, 1711, I foretold that the emperor would die within the year: it is true, as he was then in good health, I was apprehensive of becoming an object of ridicule, if I declared my sentiments in express terms; for which reason I used expressions somewhat enigmatical; but all rational people easily guessed my meaning. He died of the small-pox in the same year, upon the 17th of April. As soon as war was declared between the emperor and the Turks, I went through every corner of the Tuilleries in quest of our gentlemen: I assembled them near the bason, and prophesied to them that Belgrade would be besieged and taken. I had the happiness of seeing my prediction fulfilled. It is true, about the middle of the siege, I laid a wager of 100 pistoles, that it would be taken on the 18th of August: it was however taken the day after: is it not provoking to lose when so near the mark? When I saw the Spanish fleet invade Sardinia, I imagined they would reduce the island; I said so, and my conjecture was justified by the event. Encouraged by this success, I added, that this victorious fleet would make a descent at Final, in order to reduce the Milanese. As this opinion met with opposition, I was resolved to support it nobly: I laid a wager of 50 pistoles, and I lost a second time: for that confounded cardinal Alberoni, in violation of the faith of treaties, sent his fleet to Sicily, and proved at once too hard for two great politicians, I mean the duke of Savoy and myself. All this, Sir, has so greatly disconcerted me, that I have formed a resolution to foretel henceforward without ever betting. Formerly the practice of betting was unknown at the Tuilleries, and the count de L— would never suffer them; but since a considerable number of petit maîtres has mixed with our society, we scarce know what to do. Scarce can we open our lips to tell a piece of news, but one of these youngsters offers to lay a wager that it is not true. The other day, as I was opening my manuscript, and settling my spectacles upon my nose, one of those flashy gentlemen, catching at the pause I made between the first and second word, told me, I’ll hold a hundred pistoles to the contrary. I affected not to have taken notice of this extravagance, and speaking in more emphatical terms, I said, the marshal of * * * having learned — that is false, said he, you always propagate extravagant intelligence; there is not common sense in what you say. Sir, you would greatly oblige me by lending me fifty pistoles, for these wagers have been the occasion of great perplexity to me. I herewith send you the copy of two letters, which I have wrote to the minister.’

The Letter of an Intelligencer to the Minister.

My Lord,

‘I am one of the most loyal subjects the king ever had. It was I that prevailed on a friend to put in execution the project I had formed of a book to prove to a demonstration, that Lewis the Great was by all means the greatest Prince that ever was surnamed the great. I have been moreover a long time employed in another work, which will contribute to raise our national glory still higher, if your eminence will grant me a privilege; my design is to prove that since the foundation of the monarchy, the French never lost a battle; and that what historians have hitherto said of our having been sometimes worsted, is utterly false and groundless. I am obliged to set them right upon many occasions; and I think I may say, without vanity, that I have great talents for criticism.

‘I am, My Lord,’ &c.

My Lord,

‘As we have lost the Count de L— we beg you will be so kind as to give us leave to elect a president. Great confusion begins to prevail in our conferences; and state affairs are not in them treated with as much method and regularity as they have been formerly: our young men live without the least respect for the old, and without any subordination amongst themselves; it is a true council of Roboam, in which the young keep the old in awe. It is in vain for us to remonstrate to them, that we were in possession of the Tuilleries long before they were born. I am inclined to think they will at last drive us out of it; and that being deprived of the assylum where we had often called up the shades of our French heroes, we shall be obliged to assemble in the king’s garden, or in some more remote place.

‘I am,’ &c.