Worthless Drivel

Candide, in the depths of his heart, had no wish to marry Cunégonde; but the extreme impertinence of the Baron made him determined to conclude the marriage, and Cunégonde pressed him with such excitement that he could not go back on his word. He consulted Pangloss, Martin, and the faithful Cacambo. Pangloss wrote a good paper in which he proved that the Baron had no rights over his sister, and that she could, according to all the laws of the Empire, marry Candide as a commoner. Martin resolved to throw the Baron into the sea; Cacambo decided that he could return the Baron to the captain of the galley, after which they could send him to Rome to the Father-General by the first boat. This idea was found to be very good; the old woman approved it; they said nothing to his sister; the thing was executed for some money, and they had the pleasure to tell off a Jesuit, and to punish the pride of a German baron.

It was quite natural to imagine that after such disasters Candide, married to his mistress and living with the philosopher Pangloss, the philosopher Martin, the prudent Cacambo, and the old woman, having brought back so many diamonds from the country of the ancient Incas, could lead the most agreeable life in the world; but he was so robbed by the Jews that nothing remained to him anymore but his little farm; his wife, becoming uglier every day, became bad-tempered and insupportable; the old woman was infirm, and was of a still worse humor than Cunégonde. Cacambo, who worked in the garden, and who went to buy vegetables in Constantinople, was tired of his work, and cursed his fate. Pangloss was despairing of shining in some university in Germany. As for Martin, he was firmly persuaded that it was equally bad everywhere; he took things patiently. Candide, Martin, and Pangloss sometimes disputed metaphysics and morality. They often saw boats pass under the windows of the house, laden with effendis, pachas, and cadis*, who were being sent into exile in Lemnos, Mytilene, and Erzurum; they saw other cadis, other pachas, other effendis, come, who took the place of the exiled, and who were in turn exiled. They saw some heads properly stuffed that were going to be placed on the Sublime Gate. These spectacles redoubled the discussion; and when they did not argue, the boredom was so excessive that the old woman dared to say to them one day: “I would like to know which is the worst, to be raped a hundred times by African pirates, to have only one buttock, to run the gauntlet of the Bulgarians, to be whipped and hanged in an auto-da-fé, to be dissected, to row in a galley, to experience in short all the misery through which we have all passed, or to stay here and do nothing?”

“It is an excellent question,” said Candide.

This discourse gave birth to new reflections, and Martin above all concluded that man was born in order to live in convulsions of inquietude, or in lethargy of boredom. Candide did not argue, but he contributed nothing. Pangloss swore that he had always suffered horribly; but having once maintained that all is marvelous, he maintained this always, and thought nothing of it.

One thing occurred to confirm Martin in his detestable principles, to make Candide hesitate more than ever, and to embarrass Pangloss. It was that one day Paquette and Brother Giroflée, who were extremely miserable, approached their farm; they had certainly spent quickly their three thousand piastres, they had parted, they had reconciled, they had fallen out, they were put in prison, they ran away, and finally Brother Giroflée had turned Turk. Paquette continued her trade everywhere, and no longer earned anything by it.

“I had certainly predicted,” said Martin to Candide, “that your presents would soon dissipate and would only render them more miserable. You had a wealth of millions of piastres, you and Cacambo, and you are no happier than Brother Giroflée and Paquette.”

“Ah! Ah!” said Pangloss to Paquette, “Heaven brought you back among us, my poor child! Do you know that you cost me the end of my nose, an eye, and an ear? Look at how you did this! What is this world?” This new adventure urged them to philosophize more than ever.

In the neighborhood there was a very famous dervish who passed for the best philosopher of Turkey; they went to consult him; Pangloss bore the duty of speaking, and said to him: “Master, we come to beg you to tell us why such a strange animal as man was formed.”

“What have you mixed yourselves up in?” said the dervish; “is that your affair?”

“But, my reverend father,” said Candide, “there is horrible evil on Earth.”

“What is the importance,” said the dervish, “of there being evil or good? When His Highness sends a ship to Egypt, does he concern himself with whether the rats in the ship are comfortable?”

“Then what should we do?” said Pangloss.

“Be quiet,” said the dervish.

“I flatter myself,” said Pangloss, “to reason a little with you about the effects and the causes, the best of all possible worlds, the origin of evil, the nature of the soul, and the pre-established harmony.” At these words, the dervish closed the door on his nose.

During this conversation, they heard the news that two judges were strangled in Constantinople, and many of their friends were impaled. This catastrophe caused a great stir everywhere for several hours. Pangloss, Candide, and Martin, while returning to the little farm, encountered a good old man who was taking the air at his door under a cradle of orange trees. Pangloss, who was curious enough to reason, asked him the name of the judge who was strangled.

“I do not know anything,” replied the good man; “and I have never known the name of any judge or vizier. I am ignoring absolutely the affair you are telling me about; I presume that in general those who meddle in public affairs sometimes perish miserably, and that they merit it; but I never inform myself about that which happens in Constantinople; I am content to send to its markets the fruits from my garden that I cultivate.”

Having said these words, he let the strangers enter his house; his two daughters and two sons presented them with many varieties of sorbet which they made themselves, kaïmak** garnished with candied citron peel, oranges, citrons, lemons, bananas, pistachios, and mocha coffee which was not mixed with the terrible coffee of Batavia and the Antilles. After this, the good Muslim’s two daughters perfumed the beards of Candide, Pangloss, and Martin.

“You must have,” said Candide to the Turk, “a vast and magnificent land?”

“I only have twenty paces,” replied the Turk; “I cultivate them with my children; the work turns us away from three great sins: boredom, vice, and need.”

Candide, returning to his farm, reflected profoundly on the discourse of the Turk. He said to Pangloss and Martin: “This good old man appears to me to have made a life very preferable to that of the six kings with whom we had the honor to dine.”

“Grandeur,” said Pangloss, “is very dangerous, according to the reports of all the philosophers: for in the end Eglon, king of of the Moabites, was assassinated by Aod; Absalom was hanged by his hair and pierced with three animal stings; the king Nadab, son of Jeroboam, was killed by Baasa; the king Ela, by Zambri; Ochosias, by Jehu; Athalia, by Joiada; the kings Joachim, Jechonias, and Sedecias were enslaved. You know how Croesus, Astyages, Darius, Dionysius of Syracuse, Pyrrhus, Perseus, Hannibal, Jugurtha, Ariovistus, Caesar, Pompey, Nero, Otto, Vitellius, Domitian, Richard II of England, Edward II, Henry VI, Richard III, Mary Stuart, Charles I, Henri III of France, and the Emperor Henri IV perished! You know…”

“I know also,” said Candide, “that we must cultivate our garden.”

“You have reason,” said Pangloss; “for when man was placed in the garden of Eden, he was put there ut operaretur eum, so that he might work: which proves that man was not born for repose.”

“Let us work without reasoning,” said Martin; “it is the only way to render life bearable.”

Everyone in the little society took part in this laudable plan; each set himself to exercise his talents. The little piece of land returned a great deal. Cunégonde was, in truth, quite ugly; but she became an excellent baker; Paquette embroidered; the old woman took care of the linen. Not even Brother Giroflée refused to help; he was a very good carpenter, and also became an honest man; and Pangloss said sometimes to Candide: “All events are connected in the best of all possible worlds: for in the end if you had not been chased from a beautiful chateau with a great kick to your rear for the love of Mademoiselle Cunégonde, if you had not been put to the Inquisition, if you had not crossed America on foot, if you had not stabbed the Baron, if you had not lost all your sheep from the good country of Eldorado, you would not be here, eating candied citrons and pistachios.”

“This is well said,” replied Candide, “but we must cultivate our garden.”

* Lords, high-ranking government officials, and judges of sharia law, respectively.
** A type of sorbet.