The Rebellion of the Harem
An anonymously written book entitled Persian Letters took Paris by storm in 1721, going through ten editions within the year.18 The author, soon revealed as the Count of Montesquieu, posed as a prosperous, well-educated Persian named Uzbek traveling through Europe, writing home to his friends and wives.
His letters are livened by reports of a rebellion in the harem that leads to infidelity, punishment, and suicide.The narrative dramatizes a philosophical treatment of self-interest. Uzbek invents a history of the Troglodoytes, a selfish tribe that seems to inhabit a Hobbesian state of nature. Its members are unable to enforce any social contract or to provide any of the mutual assistance upon which their collective survival depends. When floods destroy the crops of those living in the valley, those living in the mountains simply laugh. When drought destroys the crops of those living in the mountains, the survivors left in the valley shed no tears.
Their inability to collaborate almost leads to their extinction, but the last two surviving men (no mention of women here) are exceptionally virtuous as well as smart. They teach their children to subordinate themselves to civic virtue, explaining that ‘‘the individual’s self interest is always to be found in the common interest; that wanting to cut oneself off from it is the same as wanting to ruin oneself; that virtue is not such as to cost us anything, and should not be considered as a wearisome exercise.’’19 The next generation of Troglodytes takes heed and prospers ever after.
The moral of the tale seems clear. But Montesquieu soon pokes fun at his own piety. Uzbek explains to his friend Rhedi that men sometimes act unjustly, though they know that God is just. They are only one step above tigers and bears.20 Uzbek himself bares his teeth, forbidding his wives to set eyes on any other man with genitals.
The Chief Eunuch’s letters recount a minor mishap. The wives, while being carried by porters to the country estate, accidentally see a man bathing naked in the river. The man is immediately put to death. Uzbek’s hypocrisy could be interpreted by official censors as a comment on Persian culture. But sophisticated readers could recognize a thinly disguised caricature of a French aristocrat. Uzbek’s friend Rica relays a discussion with a Frenchman on whether a law of nature makes women subject to men:‘‘No,’’ a very chivalrous philosopher said to me the other day, ‘‘nature has laid down no such law. Our authority over women is absolutely tyrannical; they have allowed us to impose it only because they are more gentle than we are, and consequently more humane and reasonable... If our upbringing were similar, our strength would be also. Judge them on the kinds of ability that their upbringing has not impaired, and we shall soon see if we are so superior.”21
The text refers to a chivalrous philosopher who has already made this point—almost certainly Poulain de la Barre. Uzbek’s friend Rica chuckles at the argument, concluding that the Prophet Mohammed has settled the issue: husbands should honor their wives but have one degree of advantage over them (the measure of one degree remains unspecified).
Montesquieu’s Persians consistently treat the patriarchal family as a model for society. They leave mothers out of the picture, but do not take adult men as a given. In a direct criticism of English debates over the social contract, Rica ridicules the notion that men come together as adults to form society. Men begin their lives as children, in families that presuppose society.22 A bit of irony intrudes when Uzbek writes to his wife Roxana that she would be outraged by the freedom European women have. She has, meanwhile rebelled by taking a lover of her own.23 The book ends with her letter explaining how she has swallowed fatal poison to defy his punishment, preferring death to subjugation.24
The Persian Letters often allude to the need to encourage population growth, criticizing both the Muslim practice of polygamy and the Christian emphasis on celibacy as obstacles to a higher birth rate. Unlike the English mercantilists who blame female promiscuity, Montesquieu argues that poor government and poverty play a larger role.25 He offers a rational, if entirely male-oriented, picture of reproductive decision-making: Men will not marry and have children if they fear this will ruin them financially, or leave their families destitute. The miserable poor are the exception, because they already have so little that they have nothing to lose. Peasant children will, however, do the country little good unless they manage to survive to adulthood. Greater equality and democratic governance will promote economic growth because they will lower infant mortality and encourage population growth.