_Translated from the French of Abbé Blanchet._
At Amadan was a celebrated academy, the first statute of which ran thus:
_The Academicians are to think much, write little, and, if possible,
speak less._
This was called the Silent Academy, nor was there a sage in Persia who
was not ambitious of being admitted a member. Zeb, a famous sage, and
author of an excellent little book, intitled _The Gag_, heard, in the
distant province where he lived, there was a vacancy in the silent
academy. Immediately he departed for Amadan, and, arriving, presented
himself at the door of the hall where the academicians were assembled,
and sent in the following billet to the president:
Zeb, a lover of silence, humbly asks the vacant place.
The billet arrived too late; the vacancy was already supplied. The
academicians were almost in despair; they had received, somewhat against
their inclination, a courtier, who had some wit, and whose light and
trifling eloquence had become the admiration of all his
court-acquaintance; and this learned body was now reduced to the
necessity of refusing the sage Zeb, the scourge of bablers, the
perfection of wisdom.
The president, whose duty it was to announce this disagreeable news to
the sage, scarcely could resolve, nor knew in what manner best, to
perform his office. After a moment’s reflection he ordered a flagon to
be filled with water, and so full that another drop would have made the
water run over. He then desired them to introduce the candidate.
The sage appeared with that simple and modest air which generally
accompanies true merit. The president rose, and, without speaking a
word, pointed, with affliction in his looks, to the emblematical flagon
so exactly full.
The sage understood from thence, the vacancy was supplied, but, without
relinquishing hope, he endeavoured to make them comprehend that a
supernumary member might, perhaps, be no detriment to their society. He
saw on the floor a rose leaf, picked it up, and with care and delicacy
placed it on the surface of the water, so as not to make it overflow.
All the academicians immediately clapped their hands, betokening
applause, when they beheld this ingenious reply. They did more, they
broke through their rules in favour of the sage Zeb. The register of the
academy was presented him, and they inscribed his name.---Nothing
remained but for him to pronounce, according to custom, a single phrase
of thanks. But this new, and truly silent academician, returned thanks
without speaking a word.
In the margin of the register he wrote the number one hundred (that of
his brethren) then put a cypher before the figures, under which he wrote
thus:
0100
_Their value is neither more nor less._
The president, with equal politeness and presence of mind, answered the
modest sage, by placing the figure 1 before the number 100, and by
writing under them, thus:
1100
_Their value is ten-fold._
[[Source:
Original: Apologues et contes orientaux, etc. 1784 by François
Blanchet (1707-1784) and others.
Possible source: Burke’s _Annual Register_ 1788 with full subtitle
“...extracted from Tales, Romances, Apologues, &c. from the French,
in two vols.”
Notes: “the figure 1 before the number 100... 1100”
The _Annual Register_ has the same words and numbers. Both seem like
an error for “1000” (a cipher after 100).]]
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