e in Syria
twelve millions of souls, and the traces that remain of
culture and habitation confirm the calculation.

Thus absorbed in meditation, a crowd of new reflections continually
poured in upon my mind. Every thing, continued I, bewilders my judgment,
and fills my heart with trouble and uncertainty. When these countries
enjoyed what constitutes the glory and happiness of man, they were
inhabited by infidel nations: It was the Phoenician, offering human
sacrifices to Moloch, who gathered into his stores the riches of all
climates; it was the Chaldean, prostrate before his serpent-god,*
who subjugated opulent cities, laid waste the palaces of kings, and
despoiled the temples of the gods; it was the Persian, worshipper of
fire, who received the tribute of a hundred nations; they were the
inhabitants of this very city, adorers of the sun and stars, who erected
so many monuments of prosperity and luxury. Numerous herds, fertile
fields, abundant harvests--whatsoever should be the reward of piety--was
in the hands of these idolaters. And now, when a people of saints and
believers occupy these fields, all is become sterility and solitude.
The earth, under these holy hands, produces only thorns and briers. Man
soweth in anguish, and reapeth tears and cares. War, famine, pestilence,
assail him by turns. And yet, are not these the children of the
prophets? The Mussulman, Christian, Jew, are they not the elect children
of God, loaded with favors and miracles? Why, then, do these privileged
races no longer enjoy the same advantages? Why are these fields,
sanctified by the blood of martyrs, deprived of their ancient fertility?
Why have those blessings been banished hence, and transferred for so
many ages to other nations and different climes?

* The dragon Bell.

At these words, revolving in my mind the vicissitudes which have
transmitted the sceptre of the world to people so different in religion
and manners from those in ancient Asia to the most recent of Europe,
this name of a natal land revived in me the sentiment of my country; and
turning my eyes towards France, I began to reflect on the situation in
which I had left her.*

* In the year 1782, at the close of the American war.

I recalled her fields so richly cultivated, her roads so admirably
constructed, her cities inhabited by a countless people, her fleets
spread over every sea, her ports filled with the produce of both the
Indies: and then co