Voltaire · Complete work
Letter XI
Letter XI of 24. Read it here for reference, or continue through the entire work without leaving the reader.
Open the complete readerOriginal French
SUR L’INSERTION DE LA PETITE VÉROLE.
On dit doucement dans l’Europe chrétienne que les Anglais sont des fous et des enragés: des fous, parce qu’ils donnent la petite vérole à leurs enfants pour les empêcher de l’avoir; desenragés, parce qu’ils communiquent de gaieté de cœur à ces enfantsune maladie certaine et affreuse, dans la vue de prévenir un malincertain. Les Anglais, de leur côté, disent: Les autres Européanssont des lâches et des dénaturés: ils sont lâches, en ce qu’ils craignent de faire un peu de mal à leurs enfants; dénaturés, en cequ’ils les exposent à mourir un jour de la petite vérole. Pour jugerlaquelle des deux nations a raison, voici l’histoire de cette fameuse insertion dont on parle en France avec tant d’effroi.
Les femmes de Circassie sont, de temps immémorial, dansl’usage de donner la petite vérole à leurs enfants même à l’âge desix mois, en leur faisant une incision au bras, et en insérant danscette incision une pustule qu’elles ont soigneusement enlevée ducorps d’un autre enfant. Cette pustule fait, dans le bras où elleest insinuée, l’effet du levain dans un morceau de pâte; elle yfermente, et répand dans la masse du sang les qualités dont elleest empreinte. Les boutons de l’enfant à qui l’on a donné cettepetite vérole artificielle servent à porter la même maladie à d’autres.C’est une circulation presque continuelle en Circassie; et quandmalheureusement il n’y a point de petite vérole dans le pays, on estaussi embarrassé qu’on l’est ailleurs dans une mauvaise année.
Ce qui a introduit en Circassie cette coutume, qui paraît si étrange à d’autres peuples, est pourtant une cause commune à tous les peuples de la terre: c’est la tendresse maternelle et l’intérêt. Les Circassiens sont pauvres, et leurs filles sont belles; aussi ce sont elles dont ils font le plus de trafic. Ils fournissent de beautés les harems du Grand Seigneur, du sophi de Perse, et de ceux qui sont assez riches pour acheter et pour entretenir cette marchandise précieuse. Ils élèvent ces filles en tout bien et en tout honneur à caresser les hommes, à former des danses pleines de lasciveté et de mollesse, à rallumer, par tous les artifices les plus voluptueux, le goût des maîtres très-dédaigneux à qui elles sont destinées. Ces pauvres créatures répètent tous les jours leur leçon avec leur mère, comme nos petites filles répètent leur catéchisme sans y rien comprendre. Or il arrivait souvent qu’un père et une mère, après avoir bien pris des peines pour donner une bonne éducation à leurs enfants, se voyaient tout d’un coup frustrés de leur espérance. La petite vérole se mettait dans la famille, une fille en mourait, une autre perdait un œil, une troisième relevait avec un gros nez; et les pauvres gens étaient ruinés sans ressource. Souvent même, quand la petite vérole devenait épidémique, le commerce était interrompu pour plusieurs années, ce qui causait une notable diminution dans les sérails de Perse et de Turquie.
Une nation commerçante est toujours fort alerte sur ses intérêts, et ne néglige rien des connaissances qui peuvent être utiles à son négoce. Les Circassiens s’aperçurent que sur mille personnes il s’en trouvait à peine une seule qui fût attaquée deux fois d’une petite vérole bien complète; qu’à la vérité on essuie quelquefois trois ou quatre petites véroles légères, mais jamais deux qui soient décidées et dangereuses; qu’en un mot jamais on n’a véritablement cette maladie deux fois en sa vie. Ils remarquèrent encore que quand les petites véroles sont très-bénignes, et que leur éruption ne trouve à percer qu’une peau délicate et fine, elles ne laissent aucune impression sur le visage. De ces observations naturelles ils conclurent que, si un enfant de six mois ou d’un an avait une petite vérole bénigne, il n’en mourrait pas, il n’en serait pas marqué, et serait quitte de cette maladie pour le reste de ses jours. Il restait donc, pour conserver la vie et la beauté de leurs enfants, de leur donner la petite vérole de bonne heure: c’est ce que l’on fit en insérant dans le corps d’un enfant un bouton que l’on prit de la petite vérole la plus complète, et en même temps la plus favorable qu’on pût trouver. L’expérience ne pouvait pas manquer de réussir. Les Turcs, qui sont gens sensés, adoptèrent bientôt après cette coutume, et aujourd’hui il n’y a point de bacha à Constantinople qui ne donne la petite vérole à son fils et à sa fille en les faisant sevrer.
Quelques gens prétendent que les Circassiens prirent autrefois cette coutume des Arabes; mais nous laissons ce point d’histoire à éclaircir par quelque bénédictin, qui ne manquera pas de composer là-dessus plusieurs volumes in-folio avec les preuves. Tout ce que j’ai à dire sur cette matière, c’est que dans le commencement du règne de George Ier, Mme de Wortley-Montague, une des femmes d’Angleterre qui ont le plus d’esprit et le plus de force dans l’esprit, étant avec son mari en ambassade à Constantinople, s’avisa de donner sans scrupule la petite vérole à un enfant dont elle était accouchée en ce pays. Son chapelain eut beau lui dire que cette expérience n’était pas chrétienne, et ne pouvait réussir que chez des infidèles, le fils de Mme Wortley s’en trouva à merveille. Cette dame, de retour à Londres, fit part de son expérience à la princesse de Galles, qui est aujourd’hui reine; il faut avouer que, titres et couronnes à part, cette princesse est née pour encourager tous les arts et pour faire du bien aux hommes: c’est un philosophe aimable sur le trône; elle n’a jamais perdu ni une occasion de s’instruire, ni une occasion d’exercer sa générosité. C’est elle qui, ayant entendu dire qu’une fille de Milton vivait encore, et vivait dans la misère, lui envoya sur-le-champ un présent considérable; c’est elle qui protége le savant P. Courayer; c’est elle qui daigna être la médiatrice entre le docteur Clarke et M. Leibnitz. Dès qu’elle eut entendu parler de l’inoculation ou insertion de la petite vérole, elle en fit faire l’épreuve sur quatre criminels condamnés à mort, à qui elle sauva doublement la vie: car non-seulement elle les tira de la potence, mais, à la faveur de cette petite vérole artificielle, elle prévint la naturelle, qu’ils auraient probablement eue, et dont ils seraient morts peut-être dans un âge plus avancé. La princesse, assurée de l’utilité de cette épreuve, fit inoculer ses enfants: l’Angleterre suivit son exemple, et, depuis ce temps, dix mille enfants de famille au moins doivent ainsi la vie à la reine et à Mme Wortley-Montague, et autant de filles leur beauté.
Sur cent personnes dans le monde, soixante au moins ont la petite vérole; de ces soixante, dix en meurent dans les années les plus favorables, et dix en conservent pour toujours de fâcheux restes. Voilà donc la cinquième partie des hommes que cette maladie tue ou enlaidit sûrement. De tous ceux qui sont inoculés en Turquie ou en Angleterre, aucun ne meurt, s’il n’est infirme et condamné à mort d’ailleurs; personne n’est marqué, aucun n’a la petite vérole une seconde fois, supposé que l’inoculation ait été parfaite. Il est donc certain que, si quelque ambassadrice française avait rapporté ce secret de Constantinople à Paris, elle aurait rendu un service éternel à la nation; le duc de Villequier, père du duc d’Aumont d’aujourd’hui, l’homme de France le mieux constitué et le plus sain, ne serait pas mort à la fleur de son âge; le prince de Soubise, qui avait la santé la plus brillante, n’aurait pas été emporté à l’âge de vingt-cinq ans; Monseigneur, grand-père de Louis XV, n’aurait pas été enterré dans sa cinquantième année; vingt-mille personnes mortes à Paris de la petite vérole en 1723 vivraient encore. Quoi donc! est-ce que les Français n’aiment point la vie? est-ce que leurs femmes ne se soucient point de leur beauté? En vérité, nous sommes d’étranges gens! Peut-être dans dix ans prendra-t-on cette méthode anglaise, si les curés et les médecins le permettent; ou bien les Français, dans trois mois, se serviront de l’inoculation par fantaisie, si les Anglais s’en dégoûtent par inconstance.
J’apprends que depuis cent ans les Chinois sont dans cet usage; c’est un grand préjugé que l’exemple d’une nation qui passe pour être la plus sage et la mieux policée de l’univers. Il est vrai que les Chinois s’y prennent d’une façon différente: ils ne font point d’incision, ils font prendre la petite vérole par le nez comme du tabac en poudre: cette façon est plus agréable, mais elle revient au même, et sert également à confirmer que, si on avait pratiqué l’inoculation en France, on aurait sauvé la vie à des milliers d’hommes.
Il y a quelques années qu’un missionnaire jésuite, ayant lu cet article, et se trouvant dans un canton de l’Amérique où la petite vérole exerçait des ravages affreux, s’avisa de faire inoculer tous les petits sauvages qu’il baptisait: ils lui durent ainsi la vie présente et la vie éternelle. Quels dons pour des sauvages!
Un évêque de Worcester a depuis peu prêché à Londres l’inoculation: il a démontré en citoyen combien cette pratique avait conservé de sujets à l’État; il l’a recommandée en pasteur charitable. On prêcherait à Paris contre cette invention salutaire, comme on a écrit vingt ans contre les expériences de Newton: tout prouve que les Anglais sont plus philosophes et plus hardis que nous. Il faut bien du temps pour qu’une certaine raison et un certain courage d’esprit franchissent le pas de Calais.
Il ne faut pourtant pas s’imaginer que depuis Douvresjusqu’aux îles Orcades on ne trouve que des philosophes; l’espèce contraire compose toujours le grand nombre: l’inoculation fut d’abord combattue à Londres; et, longtemps avant que l’évêque de Worcester annonçât cet évangile en chaire, un curé s’était avisé de prêcher contre: il dit que Job avait été inoculé par le diable. Ce prédicateur était fait pour être capucin, il n’était guère digne d’être né en Angleterre. Le préjugé monta donc en chaire le premier, et la raison n’y monta qu’ensuite: c’est la marche ordinaire de l’esprit humain.
Musean translation
Mouseia’s complete machine-assisted Musean translation, made directly from the French text of all twenty-four letters (Garnier edition, 1879, French Wikisource) for fidelity, the author’s force and cadence, and modern clarity.
On Inoculation Against Smallpox
People in Christian Europe say, in gentle tones, that the English are fools and madmen: fools because they give their children smallpox to prevent their catching it; madmen because they willingly communicate to those children a certain and dreadful disease in the hope of preventing an uncertain harm. The English, for their part, say: “The other Europeans are cowards and unnatural parents: cowards because they fear to cause their children a little pain; unnatural because they expose them to dying one day of smallpox.” To decide which of the two nations is right, here is the history of the famous inoculation spoken of in France with such dread.
The women of Circassia have from time immemorial been accustomed to give their children smallpox even at the age of six months, by making an incision in the arm and placing in it a pustule carefully taken from the body of another child. That pustule acts in the arm where it is inserted as yeast does in a piece of dough; it ferments there, spreading through the whole mass of blood the properties it bears. The pustules of the child given this artificial smallpox serve to carry the same disease to others. It is an almost unbroken circulation in Circassia; and when, unfortunately, there is no smallpox in the country, people are as troubled as they are elsewhere in a bad year.
What introduced this custom into Circassia, though it seems so strange to other peoples, is nevertheless a motive common to all the peoples on earth: maternal tenderness and self-interest. The Circassians are poor and their daughters beautiful; accordingly, it is in daughters that they do most of their trading. They supply beauties to the harems of the Grand Seigneur, the Sophi of Persia, and those rich enough to buy and maintain this precious merchandise. They bring up these girls in all virtue and honor to caress men, to perform dances full of sensuality and languor, and to rekindle, by every most voluptuous artifice, the desire of the very fastidious masters for whom they are destined. These poor creatures repeat their lesson every day with their mothers, just as our little girls repeat their catechism without understanding it. Now it often happened that a father and mother, after taking great pains to give their children a good education, suddenly saw their hopes dashed. Smallpox entered the household: one daughter died of it, another lost an eye, a third recovered with a swollen nose; and the poor people were ruined beyond remedy. Often, too, when smallpox became epidemic, trade was interrupted for several years, causing a notable decline in the seraglios of Persia and Turkey.
A trading nation is always keenly alert to its interests and neglects no knowledge that might be useful to its business. The Circassians noticed that among a thousand people hardly one was attacked twice by a full-blown case of smallpox; that one might indeed undergo three or four mild attacks, but never two that were unmistakable and dangerous; that, in short, no one truly has this disease twice in a lifetime. They also observed that when cases of smallpox are very mild, and their eruption has only delicate, fine skin to break through, they leave no trace on the face. From these natural observations they concluded that if a child of six months or a year had a mild case of smallpox, the child would not die of it, would not be scarred by it, and would be free of the disease for the rest of its days. To preserve their children's lives and beauty, then, they had only to give them smallpox early: they did this by inserting into a child's body a pustule taken from the fullest and at the same time most favorable case they could find. The experiment could not fail to succeed. The Turks, who are sensible people, soon adopted this custom too; and today there is not a pasha in Constantinople who does not give smallpox to his son and daughter when they are being weaned.
Some maintain that the Circassians originally took this custom from the Arabs; but we leave that question of history to be settled by some Benedictine, who will doubtless compose several folio volumes of evidence on the subject. All I have to say on the matter is that, early in the reign of George I, Lady Wortley-Montague, one of the English women with the keenest wit and the strongest mind, while accompanying her husband on an embassy to Constantinople, took it into her head, without scruple, to give smallpox to a child she had borne in that country. Her chaplain told her in vain that this experiment was unchristian and could succeed only among unbelievers; Lady Wortley's son fared wonderfully well. On her return to London, she told of her experience to the princess of Wales, now queen. It must be acknowledged that, titles and crowns aside, this princess was born to encourage all the arts and to do good to mankind: she is an engaging philosopher on the throne; she has never missed an opportunity to learn or an opportunity to exercise her generosity. It was she who, hearing that a daughter of Milton was still alive and living in poverty, immediately sent her a substantial gift; she who protects the learned Father Courayer; she who graciously acted as mediator between Dr. Clarke and Mr. Leibniz. As soon as she heard of inoculation, or the insertion of smallpox, she had it tried on four criminals condemned to death, whose lives she saved twice over: not only did she rescue them from the gallows, but by means of this artificial smallpox she forestalled the natural disease, which they would probably have caught, and from which they might have died at a later age. Assured of the value of this experiment, the princess had her children inoculated: England followed her example, and since then at least ten thousand children of good families owe their lives to the queen and Lady Wortley-Montague, and as many girls owe them their beauty.
Of every hundred people in the world, at least sixty catch smallpox; of these sixty, ten die of it even in the most favorable years, and ten bear disfiguring traces of it forever. So this disease certainly kills or disfigures a fifth of mankind. Of all those inoculated in Turkey or England, not one dies unless already infirm and doomed to die from another cause; no one is scarred, none has smallpox a second time, provided the inoculation was complete. It is certain, then, that if some French ambassador's wife had brought this secret from Constantinople to Paris, she would have done the nation a lasting service; the duke of Villequier, father of the present duke of Aumont, the most robust and healthy man in France, would not have died in the flower of his age; the prince of Soubise, whose health was so radiant, would not have been carried off at the age of twenty-five; Monseigneur, grandfather of Louis XV, would not have been buried in his fiftieth year; twenty thousand people who died of smallpox in Paris in 1723 would still be alive. What, then! Do the French not love life? Do their women care nothing for their beauty? Truly, we are a strange people! Perhaps in ten years this English method will be adopted, if priests and doctors permit it; or else, in three months, the French will take up inoculation on a whim if the English abandon it through fickleness.
I learn that the Chinese have practiced it for a hundred years; the example of a nation reputed to be the wisest and best governed in the universe is a strong presumption in its favor. The Chinese, it is true, proceed differently: they make no incision, but administer smallpox through the nose like powdered tobacco. This way is more agreeable, but comes to the same thing, and equally confirms that if inoculation had been practiced in France, thousands of lives would have been saved.
Some years ago a Jesuit missionary, having read this article and finding himself in a district of America where smallpox was wreaking terrible havoc, took it into his head to have all the little indigenous children he baptized inoculated: thus they owed him both their present life and eternal life. What gifts for those children!
A bishop of Worcester has lately preached inoculation in London: as a citizen he showed how many subjects this practice had preserved for the state; as a charitable pastor he commended it. In Paris they would preach against this salutary invention, just as they wrote for twenty years against Newton's experiments: everything proves that the English are more philosophical and bolder than we are. It takes a long time for a measure of reason and intellectual courage to cross the Strait of Dover.
Yet one must not imagine that from Dover to the Orkney Islands there are none but philosophers; the opposite kind always makes up the greater number. Inoculation was opposed in London at first; and long before the bishop of Worcester proclaimed this gospel from the pulpit, a parish priest took it into his head to preach against it: he said that Job had been inoculated by the devil. That preacher was made to be a Capuchin; he scarcely deserved to have been born in England. So prejudice mounted the pulpit first, and reason only afterward: such is the ordinary course of the human mind.
Plain English translation
Mouseia’s complete Plain English edition, made independently and directly from the French text of all twenty-four letters (Garnier edition, 1879, French Wikisource).
On Smallpox Inoculation
People in Christian Europe quietly say the English are mad and reckless. Mad, because they give their children smallpox to keep them from getting it; reckless, because they willingly give those children a certain and terrible disease to prevent one they might never catch. The English, for their part, say, “Other Europeans are cowards and unnatural parents. They are cowards because they are afraid to cause their children a little pain, and unnatural parents because they leave them open to dying of smallpox one day.” To decide which side is right, here is the history of this famous inoculation that people in France discuss with such fear.
For as long as anyone can remember, Circassian women have given their children smallpox, even at the age of six months. They make a cut in the arm and place in it a pustule carefully taken from another child's body. In the arm where it is placed, the pustule works like yeast in a piece of dough. It ferments there and spreads its properties through the blood. The sores on the child who has been given this artificial smallpox are used to pass the same disease to others. This circulation is almost constant in Circassia. When, unfortunately, there is no smallpox in the country, people are as troubled as people elsewhere are in a bad year.
What introduced this custom to Circassia, strange as it looks to other peoples, was a motive common to everyone on earth: a mother's love and self-interest. Circassians are poor, and their daughters are beautiful, so their daughters are what they trade most. They supply beautiful women to the harems of the Grand Seigneur, the Shah of Persia, and anyone rich enough to buy and keep such valuable merchandise. They raise these girls, in all propriety, to caress men, perform dances full of sensuality and softness, and use every seductive trick to rekindle the interest of the very hard-to-please masters for whom they are destined. These poor creatures repeat their lessons every day with their mothers, just as our little girls repeat their catechism without understanding any of it. Often, after parents had worked hard to give their children a good education, their hopes were suddenly destroyed. Smallpox would enter the family: one daughter died, another lost an eye, and a third recovered with a swollen nose. The poor family was ruined beyond repair. Sometimes, when smallpox became an epidemic, the trade stopped for several years, causing a noticeable drop in the numbers in the harems of Persia and Turkey.
A trading nation is always alert to its own interests and overlooks no knowledge that could help its business. The Circassians noticed that hardly one person in a thousand got a full-blown case of smallpox twice. It is true that someone may have three or four mild cases, but never two clear and dangerous ones. In short, no one truly has this disease twice in a lifetime. They also noticed that when a case of smallpox is very mild and the sores break through only delicate, fine skin, they leave no marks on the face. From these everyday observations they concluded that if a child of six months or one year had a mild case of smallpox, the child would not die or be scarred by it, and would be free of the disease for the rest of life. So, to preserve their children's lives and beauty, they had to give them smallpox early. They did this by putting into a child's body a sore taken from the most fully developed, yet most favorable, case of smallpox they could find. The experiment was bound to succeed. The Turks, who are sensible people, soon adopted the custom. Today every pasha in Constantinople gives smallpox to his son and daughter when they are being weaned.
Some people claim the Circassians originally got this custom from the Arabs. But we will leave that historical question for some Benedictine monk to clear up. He will surely write several large volumes on it, complete with evidence. All I have to say on the subject is that early in the reign of George I, Lady Wortley-Montague, one of England's most intelligent and strong-minded women, was with her husband on a diplomatic mission in Constantinople. She decided without hesitation to give smallpox to a child she had borne there. Her chaplain kept telling her that this experiment was unchristian and could succeed only among unbelievers. But Lady Wortley's son came through it wonderfully. Back in London, she told the Princess of Wales, who is now queen, about her experiment. Titles and crowns aside, this princess was born to encourage all the arts and do good to people. She is a likable philosopher on the throne. She has never missed a chance to learn or a chance to be generous. When she heard that a daughter of Milton was still alive and living in poverty, she immediately sent her a substantial gift. She protects the learned Father Courayer. She even agreed to mediate between Dr. Clarke and Mr. Leibnitz. As soon as she heard of smallpox inoculation, she had it tested on four criminals sentenced to death. She saved their lives twice over: she kept them from the gallows, and, by giving them artificial smallpox, prevented the natural kind, which they probably would have caught and perhaps died from at an older age. Convinced that the test was useful, the princess had her children inoculated. England followed her example. Since then, at least ten thousand children of good families owe their lives to the queen and Lady Wortley-Montague, and as many girls owe them their beauty.
Of every hundred people in the world, at least sixty get smallpox. Of those sixty, ten die from it even in the most favorable years, and ten are left with lasting damage. So the disease certainly kills or disfigures one fifth of all people. Of all those inoculated in Turkey or England, no one dies unless already sick and destined to die anyway. No one is scarred, and no one gets smallpox a second time, provided the inoculation was done properly. So it is certain that if some French ambassador's wife had brought this secret from Constantinople to Paris, she would have done the nation a lasting service. The Duke of Villequier, father of today's Duke of Aumont and the healthiest and strongest man in France, would not have died in the prime of life. The Prince of Soubise, who enjoyed exceptionally good health, would not have been taken at twenty-five. Monseigneur, grandfather of Louis XV, would not have been buried in his fiftieth year. Twenty thousand people who died of smallpox in Paris in 1723 would still be alive. What, then? Don't the French love life? Don't French women care about their beauty? We really are strange people! Perhaps in ten years we will adopt this English method, if the priests and doctors allow it. Or the French may start using inoculation on a whim in three months, if the English give it up through fickleness.
I hear that the Chinese have used this practice for a hundred years. The example of a nation thought to be the wisest and best governed in the world is strong evidence in its favor. It is true that the Chinese do it differently. They make no cut. They have people take smallpox through the nose, like powdered tobacco. That way is more pleasant, but the result is the same. It also confirms that if inoculation had been practiced in France, thousands of lives would have been saved.
A few years ago, a Jesuit missionary read this article while in a part of America where smallpox was causing terrible devastation. He decided to inoculate all the young Indigenous children he baptized. They thus owed him their lives in this world and in the next. What gifts for those children!
A bishop of Worcester recently preached in favor of inoculation in London. As a citizen he showed how many people the practice had saved for the state. As a caring pastor he recommended it. In Paris people would preach against this lifesaving invention, just as they wrote against Newton's experiments for twenty years. Everything shows that the English think more philosophically and act more boldly than we do. It will take a long time for a certain kind of reason and intellectual courage to cross the Strait of Dover.
Still, one should not imagine that everyone from Dover to the Orkney Islands is a philosopher. The opposite kind of person is always in the majority. Inoculation first met opposition in London. Long before the bishop of Worcester preached this new gospel from the pulpit, a priest had decided to preach against it. He said the devil had inoculated Job. That preacher was fit to be a Capuchin friar, and hardly worthy of being born in England. So prejudice reached the pulpit first, and reason climbed into it only afterward. That is the usual course of the human mind.