LETTER CXXV. Rica to * **.

IN all religions men are at a great loss, when they attempt to give an account of the pleasures appointed for those who have led good lives. The wicked may be easily terrified by a long detail of pains and torments,

with which they are threatened; but as for the virtuous they know not what to promise them. It seems to be the nature of pleasures to be of short duration, the imagination can hardly form to itself any others. I have heard descriptions of Paradise capable of disgusting every sensible person. The happy shades, according to the fancy of some, are continually playing on the flute, others condemn them to the punishment of eternally walking about; others, in short, make those above to be always raving after their mistresses here below, not thinking a hundred millions of years long enough to make them get quit of their amorous inquietudes. I remember, on this occasion, a story I heard told by a person who had been in the country of the Mogul; which shows that the Indian priests are no less fruitful than others in the ideas they have of the pleasures of Paradise.—A woman who had just lost her husband, went in form to the governor of the city to ask his leave to burn herself; but as in the countries subject to the Mahometans they abolish this cruel custom as much as they can, he absolutely refused her. When she saw her prayers were in vain, she flew into a furious passion. “How tormenting, said she, is this! A poor woman is not even permitted to burn herself when she hath a mind to it! Was ever the like seen? My mother, my aunt, my sisters, they all were happily burnt. And when I come to beg leave of this cursed governor, to be permitted to burn myself, he falls into a passion, and raves like a madman.” There happened to be present a young Bonze: “Infidel, said the governor to him, is it you who have instilled this madness into the mind of the woman?” “No, replied he, I never spoke to her; but if she will be guided by me, she shall perform her sacrifice; she will do an action agreeable to the god Brama: and she shall also be well recompensed; for she shall find in the other world her husband, and be joined to him again by a second marriage.” “What do you say? cried the woman in a fright—I shall find my husband again? Ah! I will never burn myself.—He was jealous, stupid, and besides so old, that, if the god Brama hath made no reformation in him, he certainly hath no need of me.—Burn myself for him!—not even the end of my finger to take him out of the bottom of hell. Two old Bonzes deceived me, who knew what kind of life I led with him, and took care not to tell me this: but, if the god Brama hath no other present to make me, I renounce this blessedness, Mr. governor, I turn Mahometan. And for you, said she, looking at the Bonze, you may, if you please, go tell my husband I find myself extremely well.”

Paris, the 2d of the moon Chalval,
1718.