The king had lost his first minister and chose Zadig to supply his place.
All the ladies in Babylon applauded the choice; for since the foundation
of the empire there had never been such a young minister. But all the
courtiers were filled with jealousy and vexation. The envious man in
particular was troubled with a spitting of blood and a prodigious
inflammation in his nose. Zadig, having thanked the king and queen for
their goodness, went likewise to thank the parrot. "Beautiful bird," said
he, "'tis thou that hast saved my life and made me first minister. The
queen's spaniel and the king's horse did me a great deal of mischief; but
thou hast done me much good. Upon such slender threads as these do the
fates of mortals hang! But," added he, "this happiness perhaps will vanish
very soon."
"Soon," replied the parrot.
Zadig was somewhat startled at this word. But as he was a good natural
philosopher and did not believe parrots to be prophets, he quickly
recovered his spirits and resolved to execute his duty to the best of his
power.
He made everyone feel the sacred authority of the laws, but no one felt
the weight of his dignity. He never checked the deliberation of the diran;
and every vizier might give his opinion without the fear of incurring the
minister's displeasure. When he gave judgment, it was not he that gave it,
it was the law; the rigor of which, however, whenever it was too severe,
he always took care to soften; and when laws were wanting, the equity of
his decisions was such as might easily have made them pass for those of
Zoroaster. It is to him that the nations are indebted for this grand
principle, to wit, that it is better to run the risk of sparing the guilty
than to condemn the innocent. He imagined that laws were made as well to
secure the people from the suffering of injuries as to restrain them from
the commission of crimes. His chief talent consisted in discovering the
truth, which all men seek to obscure.
This great talent he put in practice from the very beginning of his
administration. A famous merchant of Babylon, who died in the Indies,
divided his estate equally between his two sons, after having disposed of
their sister in marriage, and left a present of thirty thousand pieces of
gold to that son who should be found to have loved him best. The eldest
raised a tomb to his memory; the youngest increased his sister's portion,
by giving her part of his inheritance. Everyone said that the eldest son
loved his father best, and the youngest his sister; and that the thirty
thousand pieces belonged to the eldest.
Zadig sent for both of them, the one after the other. To the eldest he
said: "Thy father is not dead; he is recovered of his last illness, and is
returning to Babylon," "God be praised," replied the young man; "but his
tomb cost me a considerable sum." Zadig afterwards said the same to the
youngest. "God be praised," said he, "I will go and restore to my father
all that I have; but I could wish that he would leave my sister what I
have given her." "Thou shalt restore nothing," replied Zadig, "and thou
shalt have the thirty thousand pieces, for thou art the son who loves his
father best."