Part 1

WORKS

OF

VOLTAIRE.

VOLUME XXXIII

FROM THE PRINTING PRESS OF A. FIRMIN DIDOT,

RUE JACOB, NO. 24.

WORKS

OF

VOLTAIRE

PREFACES, NOTICES, NOTES, ETC.

BY M. BEUCHOT.

VOLUME XXXIII.

NOVELS. VOLUME I.

IN PARIS,

AT LEFÈVRE'S, BOOKSELLER,

RUE DE L'ÉPERON, NO. 6. WERDET AND LEQUIEN SON,

RUE DU BATTOIR, NO. 20.

MDCCCXXIX.

CANDIDE,

OR OPTIMISM

Publisher's Preface CHAPTER I. How Candide was brought up in a fine castle, and how he was driven thence. CHAPTER II. What became of Candide among the Bulgarians. CHAPTER III. How Candide escaped from the Bulgarians, and what became of him. CHAPTER IV. How Candide met his former philosophy master, Doctor Pangloss, and what came of it. CHAPTER V. Storm, shipwreck, earthquake, and what befell Doctor Pangloss, Candide, and the Anabaptist Jacques. CHAPTER VI. How a fine auto-da-fé was held to prevent earthquakes, and how Candide was whipped. CHAPTER VII. How an old woman took care of Candide, and how he found again what he loved. CHAPTER VIII. History of Cunégonde. CHAPTER IX. What befell Cunégonde, Candide, the Grand Inquisitor, and a Jew. CHAPTER X. In what distress Candide, Cunégonde, and the old woman arrive at Cadiz, and their embarkation. CHAPTER XI. History of the old woman. CHAPTER XII. Continuation of the old woman's misfortunes. CHAPTER XIII. How Candide was obliged to part from the fair Cunégonde and the old woman. CHAPTER XIV. How Candide and Cacambo were received by the Jesuits of Paraguay. CHAPTER XV. How Candide killed the brother of his dear Cunégonde. CHAPTER XVI. What befell the two travelers with two girls, two monkeys, and the savages called Oreillons. CHAPTER XVII. Arrival of Candide and his valet in the land of Eldorado, and what they saw there. CHAPTER XVIII. What they saw in the land of Eldorado[1]. CHAPTER XIX. What happened to them at Surinam, and how Candide made the acquaintance of Martin. CHAPTER XX. What happened at sea to Candide and Martin. CHAPTER XXI. Candide and Martin approach the coasts of France, and discourse. CHAPTER XXII[1]. What happened in France to Candide and Martin. CHAPTER XXIII. Candide and Martin go to the coasts of England; what they see there. CHAPTER XXIV. Of Paquette, and of brother Giroflée. CHAPTER XXV. Visit to the lord Pococurante, a Venetian nobleman. CHAPTER XXVI. Of a supper that Candide and Martin made with six strangers, and who they were. CHAPTER XXVII. Candide's voyage to Constantinople. CHAPTER XXVIII. What happened to Candide, Cunégonde, Pangloss, Martin, etc. CHAPTER XXIX. How Candide found Cunégonde and the old woman again. CHAPTER XXX. Conclusion.

Publisher's Preface

_Candide_ appeared at the latest in March 1759. The King of Prussia acknowledges receipt of it in his letter of the 28th of April.

Voltaire had sent the manuscript to the Duchess of La Vallière, who answered him that he might have spared himself the indecencies therein, and that a writer such as he had no need to resort to that expedient to procure readers.

Many other persons were scandalized by _Candide_, and Voltaire disowned this work, which he himself calls a piece of buffoonery. Moreover, one must not take its title of optimism literally. Optimism, he says elsewhere[1], is but a despairing fatality.

[1] _Homily on Atheism_. See the _Miscellanies_, year 1767; and also, volume XII, one of the notes to the third _Discourse on Man_.

Voltaire wrote, under the name of Mead, a letter relating to Candide, which was inserted in the _Encyclopedic Journal_ of July 15, 1759: it will be found in the Miscellanies, under that date.

It is to Thorel de Campigneulles, who died in 1809, that a _Second Part of Candide_ is attributed, published in 1761, and several times reprinted following Voltaire's work, as being by him. It was even admitted into an edition entitled: _Complete Collection of the Works of M. de Voltaire, 1764, in-12_. The edition of Candide, 1778, with figures drawn and engraved by Daniel Chodowicky, contains both parts.

The _Thanks of Candide to M. de Voltaire_ (by Marconnay) is from 1760.

Linguet published, in 1766, the _Cacomonade, political and moral history, translated from the German, by Doctor Pangloss himself, since his return from Constantinople_, 1766, in-12; new edition, augmented by a letter from the same author, 1766, in-12. A ruling of the royal court of Paris, of November 16, 1822 (inserted in the _Moniteur_ of March 26, 1825), orders the destruction of the _Canonnade, or History of the Neapolitan Evil, by Linguet_. This is not the first time that condemned works have been ill-designated in judgments. The ruling of the parliament court, of August 6, 1761, orders the tearing and burning of volume XIII of the Commentary of Salmeron, which has only four volumes.

_Candide in Denmark, or the Optimism of Honest Folk_, is by an unknown author.

_Antoine Bernard and Rosalie, or Little Candide_, appeared in 1796, one volume in-18.

_The Voyage of Candide Junior to the Land of Eldorado, toward the end of the eighteenth century, to serve as a sequel to the adventures of M. his father_, year XI-1803, has two volumes in-8º.

Chapter XXVI of _Candide_ was imitated, in 1815, by Lemontey, in an article entitled: _The Carnival of Venice_. I have renounced reproducing this small piece, when I saw the announcement of the _Works of Lemontey_, where no doubt it will be found.

J.-J. Rousseau claimed[2] that it is his _Letter on Providence_ which gave birth to _Candide_; _Candide is the answer to it_. Voltaire had made _one of two pages where he rambles, and Candide appeared ten months after_.

[2] Letter of J. J. Rousseau to the Prince of Wirtemberg, of March 11, 1764.

What Rousseau calls his _Letter on Providence_ is his letter to Voltaire of August 18, 1756; Voltaire's answer is of September 21, 1766; Candide saw the light only twenty-seven to twenty-nine months later.

———

The notes without signature, and which are indicated by letters, are by Voltaire.

The notes signed with a K are by the Kehl editors, MM. Condorcet and Decroix. It is impossible to assign precisely the share of each.

The additions that I have made to the notes of Voltaire or to the notes of the Kehl editors, are separated from them by a —, and are, like my notes, signed with the initial of my name.

BEUCHOT.

October 4, 1829.

CANDIDE,

OR

OPTIMISM,

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN

OF MR. DOCTOR RALPH,

WITH THE ADDITIONS

FOUND IN THE DOCTOR'S POCKET

WHEN HE DIED

AT MINDEN, IN THE YEAR OF GRACE 1759

1759

CHAPTER I. How Candide was brought up in a fine castle, and how he was driven thence.

In Westphalia, in the castle of M. the Baron of Thunder-ten-tronckh, there was a young lad to whom nature had given the gentlest of dispositions. His physiognomy betrayed his soul. He had fairly sound judgment, with the simplest of minds; this is, I believe, why he was called Candide. The old servants of the house suspected that he was the son of the baron's sister and of a good and honest gentleman of the neighborhood, whom the lady would never marry because he could not prove seventy-one quarterings, and the rest of his family tree had been lost through the injury of time.

The baron was one of the most powerful lords of Westphalia, for his castle had a door and windows. His great hall was even adorned with tapestry. All the dogs of his farmyards made up a pack in time of need; his stable-boys were his huntsmen; the village vicar was his grand almoner. They all called him my lord, and they laughed when he told stories.

The baroness, who weighed about three hundred and fifty pounds, thereby attracted very great consideration, and did the honors of the house with a dignity that made her yet more respectable. Her daughter Cunégonde, aged seventeen, was high-colored, fresh, plump, appetizing. The baron's son appeared in all things worthy of his father. The tutor Pangloss[1] was the oracle of the house, and little Candide listened to his lessons with all the good faith of his age and character.

[1] From _pan_, all, and _glossa_, tongue. B.

Pangloss taught metaphysico-theologo-cosmolonigology. He proved admirably that there is no effect without a cause, and that, in this best of all possible worlds, my lord the baron's castle was the finest of castles, and the lady the best of all possible baronesses.

It is demonstrated, he said, that things cannot be otherwise; for all being made for an end, all is necessarily for the best end. Mark well that noses were made to carry spectacles; thus we have spectacles[2]. Legs are visibly instituted to be clothed, and we have hose. Stones were formed to be cut and to make castles of; thus my lord has a very fine castle: the greatest baron of the province ought to be the best lodged; and pigs being made to be eaten, we eat pork all the year: consequently, those who have advanced that all is well have said a foolish thing; they should have said that all is for the best.

[2] See volume XXVII, page 528; and in the _Miscellanies_, year 1738, chapter XI of the third part of the _Elements of Newton's Philosophy_; and year 1768, chapter X of the _Singularities of Nature_. B.

Candide listened attentively, and believed innocently; for he found Mademoiselle Cunégonde extremely beautiful, though he never took the boldness to tell her so. He concluded that after the happiness of being born Baron of Thunder-ten-tronckh, the second degree of happiness was to be Mademoiselle Cunégonde; the third, to see her every day; and the fourth, to hear Master Pangloss, the greatest philosopher of the province, and consequently of all the earth.

One day Cunégonde, walking near the castle, in the little wood called the park, saw among the bushes Doctor Pangloss giving a lesson of experimental physics to her mother's chambermaid, a very pretty little brunette and very docile. As Mademoiselle Cunégonde had much disposition for the sciences, she observed, without breathing a word, the reiterated experiments of which she was witness; she saw clearly the doctor's sufficient reason, the effects and the causes, and returned home all agitated, all pensive, all filled with the desire to be learned, thinking that she might well be the sufficient reason of young Candide, who might also be hers.

She met Candide on returning to the castle, and blushed: Candide blushed also. She said good-day to him in a broken voice; and Candide spoke to her without knowing what he said. The next day, after dinner, as they left the table, Cunégonde and Candide found themselves behind a screen; Cunégonde dropped her handkerchief, Candide picked it up; she innocently took the young man's hand; the young man innocently kissed the young lady's hand with a vivacity, a sensibility, a grace quite particular; their mouths met, their eyes kindled, their knees trembled, their hands strayed. M. the Baron of Thunder-ten-tronckh passed by the screen, and seeing this cause and this effect, drove Candide from the castle with great kicks in the behind. Cunégonde fainted: she was slapped by the baroness as soon as she came to herself; and all was consternation in the finest and most agreeable of all possible castles.

CHAPTER II What became of Candide among the Bulgarians.

Candide, driven from earthly paradise, walked long without knowing where, weeping, lifting his eyes to heaven, turning them often toward the finest of castles which enclosed the fairest of baronettes; he lay down without supper in the midst of the fields between two furrows; the snow fell in great flakes. Candide, all benumbed, dragged himself the next day toward the neighboring town, which is called _Valdberghoff-trarbk-dikdorff_, having no money, dying of hunger and weariness. He stopped sadly at the door of an inn. Two men dressed in blue noticed him: Comrade, said one, there is a very well-made young man, and who has the required stature; they advanced toward Candide and invited him to dinner very civilly.—Gentlemen, said Candide with a charming modesty, you do me much honor, but I have not wherewith to pay my share.—Ah! sir, said one of the blues, persons of your figure and merit never pay anything: have you not five feet five inches in height?—Yes, gentlemen, that is my stature, said he, making a bow.—Ah! sir, sit down at table; not only will we defray your costs, but we shall never suffer a man like you to lack money; men are made only to help one another.—You are right, said Candide; that is what M. Pangloss always told me, and I see plainly that all is for the best. They beg him to accept a few crowns, he takes them and would give his note; they will have none, they sit down to table. Do you not love tenderly?…—Oh! yes, he answers, I love Mademoiselle Cunégonde tenderly.—No, said one of these gentlemen, we ask you if you do not love tenderly the King of the Bulgarians?—Not at all, said he, for I have never seen him.—How! he is the most charming of kings, and you must drink to his health.—Oh! very willingly, gentlemen. And he drinks. That is enough, they tell him, you are now the support, the sustainer, the defender, the hero of the Bulgarians; your fortune is made, and your glory assured. They put irons on his feet forthwith, and lead him to the regiment. They make him turn right, left, raise the stick, replace the stick, present arms, fire, double the step, and they give him thirty blows with a cudgel; the next day he does the exercise a little less badly, and receives only twenty blows; the day after, he is given only ten, and is regarded by his comrades as a prodigy.

Candide, all stupefied, did not yet quite understand how he was a hero. One fine spring day he bethought himself to go for a walk, walking straight before him, believing that it was a privilege of the human species, as of the animal species, to use its legs at its pleasure. He had not gone two leagues when behold four other heroes of six feet who overtake him, bind him, and lead him to a dungeon. He is asked judicially whether he would rather be flogged thirty-six times by the whole regiment, or receive at once twelve lead balls in the brain. In vain did he say that wills are free, and that he wanted neither one nor the other; he must make a choice; he determined, by virtue of the gift of God called _liberty_, to pass thirty-six times through the sticks; he endured two rounds. The regiment was composed of two thousand men; that made him four thousand blows with the stick, which, from the nape of the neck to the backside, laid bare his muscles and nerves. As they were about to proceed to the third course, Candide, unable to bear more, begged as a grace that they would have the goodness to break his head; he obtained this favor; they bandage his eyes; they make him kneel. The King of the Bulgarians passes at that moment, inquires into the patient's crime; and as this king had a great genius, he understood, by all he learned of Candide, that he was a young metaphysician very ignorant of the things of this world, and he granted him his pardon with a clemency that will be praised in all the journals and in all the ages. A brave surgeon healed Candide in three weeks with the emollients taught by Dioscorides. He already had a little skin and could walk, when the King of the Bulgarians gave battle to the King of the Abares.

CHAPTER III. How Candide escaped from the Bulgarians, and what became of him.

Nothing was so fine, so brisk, so brilliant, so well ordered as the two armies. The trumpets, the fifes, the oboes, the drums, the cannon; formed a harmony such as there never was in hell. The cannon first overturned about six thousand men on each side; then the musket-fire removed from the best of worlds some nine to ten thousand rogues who infected its surface. The bayonet was also the sufficient reason of the death of some thousands of men. The whole might well amount to some thirty thousand souls. Candide, who trembled like a philosopher, hid as best he could during this heroic butchery.

At length, while the two kings had _Te Deum_ sung, each in his camp, he took it upon himself to go reason elsewhere of effects and causes. He passed over heaps of dead and dying, and gained first a neighboring village; it was in ashes: it was an Abare village that the Bulgarians had burned, according to the laws of public right. Here old men riddled with blows watched their slaughtered wives die, who held their children to their bloody breasts; there girls disemboweled after satisfying the natural needs of some heroes, breathed their last sighs; others half burned cried that they would finish giving them death. Brains were spilled on the earth beside cut-off arms and legs.

Candide fled as fast as he could to another village: it belonged to the Bulgarians, and the Abare heroes had treated it the same. Candide, ever walking over palpitating limbs or through ruins, arrived at last outside the theater of war, carrying some small provisions in his knapsack, and never forgetting Mademoiselle Cunégonde. His provisions failed him when he was in Holland; but having heard that everyone was rich in that country, and that they were Christians there, he doubted not that he would be treated as well as he had been in the castle of M. the baron, before he had been driven thence for the fair eyes of Mademoiselle Cunégonde.

He asked alms of several grave personages, who all answered him that, if he continued in this trade, he would be shut up in a house of correction to teach him to live.

He then addressed himself to a man who had just spoken alone for a full hour on charity in a great assembly. This orator, looking at him askance, said: What do you come here for? Are you here for the good cause? There is no effect without a cause, answered Candide modestly; all is necessarily linked and arranged for the best. It had to be that I was driven from Mademoiselle Cunégonde, that I passed through the sticks, and that I beg my bread, until I can earn it; all this could not be otherwise. My friend, said the orator, do you believe the pope is the antichrist? I had never heard it said, answered Candide; but whether he be or be not, I lack bread. You deserve not to eat any, said the other: go, rogue, go, wretch, never come near me again. The orator's wife having put her head to the window, and spying a man who doubted that the pope was antichrist, poured upon his head a full….. O heaven! to what excess the zeal of religion carries in ladies!

A man who had not been baptized, a good Anabaptist, named Jacques, saw the cruel and ignominious manner in which one thus treated a brother of his, a featherless being with two feet, who had a soul; he led him to his house, cleaned him, gave him bread and beer, made him a present of two florins, and would even teach him to work in his manufactories of the Persian stuffs that are made in Holland. Candide, almost prostrating himself before him, cried: Master Pangloss had told me well that all is for the best in this world, for I am infinitely more touched by your extreme generosity than by the hardness of that gentleman in the black cloak, and of his wife.

The next day, walking, he met a beggar all covered with pustules, his eyes dead, the tip of his nose eaten away, his mouth awry, his teeth black, and speaking from the throat, tormented by a violent cough, and spitting a tooth at every effort.

CHAPTER IV. How Candide met his former philosophy master, Doctor Pangloss, and what came of it.

Candide, moved more by compassion than by horror, gave to this frightful beggar the two florins he had received from his honest Anabaptist Jacques. The phantom looked at him fixedly, shed tears, and leapt upon his neck. Candide, frightened, recoils. Alas! said the miserable to the other miserable, do you no longer recognize your dear Pangloss? What do I hear? you, my dear master! you, in this horrible state! what misfortune has then befallen you? why are you no longer in the finest of castles? what has become of Mademoiselle Cunégonde, the pearl of maidens, the masterpiece of nature? I can no more, said Pangloss. Thereupon Candide led him to the Anabaptist's stable, where he made him eat a little bread; and when Pangloss was restored: Well! said he to him, Cunégonde? She is dead, answered the other. Candide fainted at these words: his friend recalled his senses with a little bad vinegar that happened to be in the stable. Candide reopens his eyes. Cunégonde is dead! Ah! best of worlds, where are you? But of what disease did she die? would it not be from having seen me driven from the fine castle of her father with great kicks? No, said Pangloss, she was disemboweled by Bulgarian soldiers, after being violated as much as one can be; they broke the head of the baron who would defend her; the baroness was cut in pieces; my poor pupil treated precisely like his sister; and as for the castle, not a stone remained upon a stone, not a barn, not a sheep, not a duck, not a tree; but we have been well avenged, for the Abares did as much in a neighboring barony belonging to a Bulgarian lord.

At this discourse, Candide fainted again; but come to himself, and having said all he ought to say, he inquired into the cause and effect, and the sufficient reason which had put Pangloss in so piteous a state. Alas! said the other, it is love: love, the consoler of humankind, the preserver of the universe, the soul of all sensible beings, tender love. Alas! said Candide, I have known that love, that sovereign of hearts, that soul of our soul; it never brought me but a kiss and twenty kicks in the backside. How could this fair cause produce in you so abominable an effect?

Pangloss answered in these terms: O my dear Candide! you have known Paquette, that pretty attendant of our august baroness: I tasted in her arms the delights of paradise, which have produced these hellish torments wherewith you see me devoured; she was infected with it, she is perhaps dead of it. Paquette held this gift from a very learned cordelier who had traced it to the source, for he had it from an old countess, who received it from a cavalry captain, who owed it to a marchioness, who held it from a page, who received it from a Jesuit, who, being a novice, had it in direct line from one of the companions of Christopher Columbus. As for me, I shall give it to no one, for I am dying.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”