"i had not always bleared eyes and red eyelids; neither did my nose always touch my chin; nor was i always a servant. i am the daughter of pope urban x,[10] and of the princess of palestrina. until the age of fourteen i was brought up in a palace, to which all the castles of your german barons would scarcely have served for stables; and one of my robes was worth more than all the magnificence of westphalia. as i grew up i improved in beauty, wit, and every graceful accomplishment, in the midst of pleasures, hopes, and respectful homage. already i inspired love. my throat was formed, and such a throat! white, firm, and shaped like that of the venus of medici; and what eyes! what eyelids! what black eyebrows! such flames darted from my dark pupils that they eclipsed the scintillation of the stars--as i was told by the poets in our part of the world. my waiting women, when dressing and undressing me, used to fall into an ecstasy, whether they viewed me before or behind; how glad would the gentlemen have been to perform that office for them!
footnote:
[10] p. 42. the following posthumous note of voltaire's
was first added to m. beuchot's edition of his works
issued in 1829; "see the extreme discretion of the
author; there has not been up to the present any pope
named urban x.; he feared to give a bastard to a known
pope. what circumspection! what delicacy of conscience!"
the last pope urban was the eighth, and he died in 1644.
"i was affianced to the most excellent prince of massa carara. such a prince! as handsome as myself, sweet-tempered, agreeable, brilliantly witty, and sparkling with love. i loved him as one loves for the first time--with idolatry, with transport. the nuptials were prepared. there was surprising pomp and magnificence; there were _fetes_, carousals, continual _opera bouffe_; and all italy composed sonnets in my praise, though not one of them was passable. i was just upon the point of reaching the summit of bliss, when an old marchioness who had been mistress to the prince, my husband, invited him to drink chocolate with her. he died in less than two hours of most terrible convulsions. but this is only a bagatelle. my mother, in despair, and scarcely less afflicted than myself, determined to absent herself for some time from so fatal a place. she had a very fine estate in the neighbourhood of gaeta. we embarked on board a galley of the country which was gilded like the great altar of st. peter's at rome. a sallee corsair swooped down and boarded us. our men defended themselves like the pope's soldiers; they flung themselves upon their knees, and threw down their arms, begging of the corsair an absolution _in articulo mortis_.
"instantly they were stripped as bare as monkeys; my mother, our maids of honour, and myself were all served in the same manner. it is amazing with what expedition those gentry undress people. but what surprised me most was, that they thrust their fingers into the part of our bodies which the generality of women suffer no other instrument but--pipes to enter. it appeared to me a very strange kind of ceremony; but thus one judges of things when one has not seen the world. i afterwards learnt that it was to try whether we had concealed any diamonds. this is the practice established from time immemorial, among civilised nations that scour the seas. i was informed that the very religious knights of malta never fail to make this search when they take any turkish prisoners of either sex. it is a law of nations from which they never deviate.
"i need not tell _you_ how great a hardship it was for a young princess and her mother to be made slaves and carried to morocco. you may easily imagine all we had to suffer on board the pirate vessel. my mother was still very handsome; our maids of honour, and even our waiting women, had more charms than are to be found in all africa. as for myself, i was ravishing, was exquisite, grace itself, and i was a virgin! i did not remain so long; this flower, which had been reserved for the handsome prince of massa carara, was plucked by the corsair captain. he was an abominable negro, and yet believed that he did me a great deal of honour. certainly the princess of palestrina and myself must have been very strong to go through all that we experienced until our arrival at morocco. but let us pass on; these are such common things as not to be worth mentioning.
"morocco swam in blood when we arrived. fifty sons of the emperor muley-ismael[11] had each their adherents; this produced fifty civil wars, of blacks against blacks, and blacks against tawnies, and tawnies against tawnies, and mulattoes against mulattoes. in short it was a continual carnage throughout the empire.
footnote:
[11] p. 45. muley-ismael was emperor of morocco from
1672 to 1727, and was a notoriously cruel tyrant.
"no sooner were we landed, than the blacks of a contrary faction to that of my captain attempted to rob him of his booty. next to jewels and gold we were the most valuable things he had. i was witness to such a battle as you have never seen in your european climates. the northern nations have not that heat in their blood, nor that raging lust for women, so common in africa. it seems that you europeans have only milk in your veins; but it is vitriol, it is fire which runs in those of the inhabitants of mount atlas and the neighbouring countries. they fought with the fury of the lions, tigers, and serpents of the country, to see who should have us. a moor seized my mother by the right arm, while my captain's lieutenant held her by the left; a moorish soldier had hold of her by one leg, and one of our corsairs held her by the other. thus almost all our women were drawn in quarters by four men. my captain concealed me behind him; and with his drawn scimitar cut and slashed every one that opposed his fury. at length i saw all our italian women, and my mother herself, torn, mangled, massacred, by the monsters who disputed over them. the slaves, my companions, those who had taken them, soldiers, sailors, blacks, whites, mulattoes, and at last my captain, all were killed, and i remained dying on a heap of dead. such scenes as this were transacted through an extent of three hundred leagues--and yet they never missed the five prayers a day ordained by mahomet.
"with difficulty i disengaged myself from such a heap of slaughtered bodies, and crawled to a large orange tree on the bank of a neighbouring rivulet, where i fell, oppressed with fright, fatigue, horror, despair, and hunger. immediately after, my senses, overpowered, gave themselves up to sleep, which was yet more swooning than repose. i was in this state of weakness and insensibility, between life and death, when i felt myself pressed by something that moved upon my body. i opened my eyes, and saw a white man, of good countenance, who sighed, and who said between his teeth: '_o che sciagura d'essere senza coglioni!_'"[12]
footnote:
[12] p. 47. "oh, what a misfortune to be an eunuch!"
