CONCLUSION
Candide had, in truth, no great inclination to marry Miss Cunegonde; but the
extreme impertinence of the Baron determined him to conclude the match;
and Cunegonde pressed him so warmly, that he could not recant. He
consulted Pangloss, Martin, and the faithful Cacambo. Pangloss composed
a fine memorial, by which he proved that the Baron had no right over his
sister; and that she might, according to all the laws of the Empire, marry
Candide with the left hand. Martin concluded to throw the Baron into the
sea; Cacambo decided that he must be delivered to the Turkish captain and
sent to the galleys; after which he should be conveyed by the first ship to
the Father General at Rome. This advice was found to be good; the old
woman approved of it, and not a syllable was said to his sister; the business
was executed for a little money; and they had the pleasure of tricking a
Jesuit, and punishing the pride of a German baron.
It was altogether natural to imagine, that after undergoing so many
disasters, Candide, married to his mistress and living with the philosopher
Pangloss, the philosopher Martin, the prudent Cacambo, and the old
woman, having besides brought home so many diamonds from the country
of the ancient Incas, would lead the most agreeable life in the world. But he
had been so robbed by the Jews, that he had nothing left but his little farm;
his wife, every day growing more and more ugly, became headstrong and
insupportable; the old woman was infirm, and more ill-natured yet than
Cunegonde. Cacambo, who worked in the garden, and carried the produce
of it to sell in Constantinople, was above his labor, and cursed his fate.
Pangloss despaired of making a figure in any of the German universities.
And as to Martin, he was firmly persuaded that a person is equally
ill-situated everywhere. He took things with patience.
Candide, Martin, and Pangloss disputed sometimes about metaphysics and
morality. Boats were often seen passing under the windows of the farm
laden with effendis, bashaws, and cadis, that were going into banishment to
Lemnos, Mytilene and Erzerum. And other cadis, bashaws, and effendis
were seen coming back to succeed the place of the exiles, and were driven
out in their turns. They saw several heads curiously stuck upon poles, and
carried as presents to the Sublime Porte. Such sights gave occasion to
frequent dissertations; and when no disputes were in progress, the
irksomeness was so excessive that the old woman ventured one day to tell
them:
"I would be glad to know which is worst, to be ravished a hundred times by
Negro pirates, to have one buttock cut off, to run the gauntlet among the
Bulgarians, to be whipped and hanged at an auto-da-fe, to be dissected, to
be chained to an oar in a galley; and, in short, to experience all the miseries
through which every one of us hath passed, or to remain here doing
nothing?"
"This", said Candide, "is a grand question."
This discourse gave birth to new reflections, and Martin especially
concluded that man was born to live in the convulsions of disquiet, or in the
lethargy of idleness. Though Candide did not absolutely agree to this, yet he
did not determine anything on that head. Pangloss avowed that he had
undergone dreadful sufferings; but having once maintained that everything
went on as well as possible, he still maintained it, and at the same time
believed nothing of it.
There was one thing which more than ever confirmed Martin in his
detestable principles, made Candide hesitate, and embarrassed Pangloss,
which was the arrival of Pacquette and Brother Giroflee one day at their
farm. This couple had been in the utmost distress; they had very speedily
made away with their three thousand piastres; they had parted, been
reconciled; quarreled again, been thrown into prison; had made their
escape, and at last Brother Giroflee had turned Turk. Pacquette still
continued to follow her trade; but she got little or nothing by it.
"I foresaw very well", said Martin to Candide "that your presents would soon
be squandered, and only make them more miserable. You and Cacambo
have spent millions of piastres, and yet you are not more happy than
Brother Giroflee and Pacquette."
"Ah!" said Pangloss to Pacquette, "it is Heaven that has brought you here
among us, my poor child! Do you know that you have cost me the tip of my
nose, one eye, and one ear? What a handsome shape is here! and what is
this world!"
This new adventure engaged them more deeply than ever in philosophical
disputations.
In the neighborhood lived a famous dervish who passed for the best
philosopher in Turkey; they went to consult him: Pangloss, who was their
spokesman, addressed him thus:
"Master, we come to entreat you to tell us why so strange an animal as man
has been formed?"
"Why do you trouble your head about it?" said the dervish; "is it any
business of yours?"
"But, Reverend Father", said Candide, "there is a horrible deal of evil on the
earth."
"What signifies it", said the dervish, "whether there is evil or good? When
His Highness sends a ship to Egypt does he trouble his head whether the
rats in the vessel are at their ease or not?"
"What must then be done?" said Pangloss.
"Be silent", answered the dervish.
"I flattered myself", replied Pangloss, "to have reasoned a little with you on
the causes and effects, on the best of possible worlds, the origin of evil, the
nature of the soul, and a pre-established harmony."
At these words the dervish shut the door in their faces.
During this conversation, news was spread abroad that two viziers of the
bench and the mufti had just been strangled at Constantinople, and several
of their friends impaled. This catastrophe made a great noise for some
hours. Pangloss, Candide, and Martin, as they were returning to the little
farm, met with a good-looking old man, who was taking the air at his door,
under an alcove formed of the boughs of orange trees. Pangloss, who was
as inquisitive as he was disputative, asked him what was the name of the
mufti who was lately strangled.
"I cannot tell", answered the good old man; "I never knew the name of any
mufti, or vizier breathing. I am entirely ignorant of the event you speak of; I
presume that in general such as are concerned in public affairs sometimes
come to a miserable end; and that they deserve it: but I never inquire what
is doing at Constantinople; I am contented with sending thither the produce
of my garden, which I cultivate with my own hands."
After saying these words, he invited the strangers to come into his house.
His two daughters and two sons presented them with divers sorts of sherbet
of their own making; besides caymac, heightened with the peels of candied
citrons, oranges, lemons, pineapples, pistachio nuts, and Mocha coffee
unadulterated with the bad coffee of Batavia or the American islands. After
which the two daughters of this good Mussulman perfumed the beards of
Candide, Pangloss, and Martin.
"You must certainly have a vast estate", said Candide to the Turk.
"I have no more than twenty acres of ground", he replied, "the whole of
which I cultivate myself with the help of my children; and our labor keeps off
from us three great evils-idleness, vice, and want."
Candide, as he was returning home, made profound reflections on the
Turk's discourse.
"This good old man", said he to Pangloss and Martin, "appears to me to
have chosen for himself a lot much preferable to that of the six Kings with
whom we had the honor to sup."
"Human grandeur", said Pangloss, "is very dangerous, if we believe the
testimonies of almost all philosophers; for we find Eglon, King of Moab, was
assassinated by Aod; Absalom was hanged by the hair of his head, and run
through with three darts; King Nadab, son of Jeroboam, was slain by
Baaza; King Ela by Zimri; Okosias by Jehu; Athaliah by Jehoiada; the
Kings Jehooiakim, Jeconiah, and Zedekiah, were led into captivity: I need
not tell you what was the fate of Croesus, Astyages, Darius, Dionysius of
Syracuse, Pyrrhus, Perseus, Hannibal, Jugurtha, Ariovistus, Caesar,
Pompey, Nero, Otho, Vitellius, Domitian, Richard II of England, Edward II,
Henry VI, Richard Ill, Mary Stuart, Charles I, the three Henrys of France,
and the Emperor Henry IV."
"Neither need you tell me", said Candide, "that we must take care of our
garden."
"You are in the right", said Pangloss; "for when man was put into the garden
of Eden, it was with an intent to dress it; and this proves that man was not
born to be idle."
"Work then without disputing", said Martin; "it is the only way to render life
supportable."
The little society, one and all, entered into this laudable design and set
themselves to exert their different talents. The little piece of ground yielded
them a plentiful crop. Cunegonde indeed was very ugly, but she became an
excellent hand at pastrywork: Pacquette embroidered; the old woman had
the care of the linen. There was none, down to Brother Giroflee, but did
some service; he was a very good carpenter, and became an honest man.
Pangloss used now and then to say to Candide:
"There is a concatenation of all events in the best of possible worlds; for, in
short, had you not been kicked out of a fine castle for the love of Miss
Cunegonde; had you not been put into the Inquisition; had you not traveled
over America on foot; had you not run the Baron through the body; and had
you not lost all your sheep, which you brought from the good country of El
Dorado, you would not have been here to eat preserved citrons and
pistachio nuts."
"Excellently observed", answered Candide; "but we must cultivate our
garden."
THE END