A TEMPEST, A SHIPWRECK, AN EARTHQUAKE, AND
WHAT ELSE BEFELL DR PANGLOSS, CANDIDE, AND
JAMES, THE ANABAPTIST
One half of the passengers, weakened and half-dead with the inconceivable
anxiety and sickness which the rolling of a vessel at sea occasions through
the whole human frame, were lost to all sense of the danger that surrounded
them. The others made loud outcries, or betook themselves to their prayers;
the sails were blown into shreds, and the masts were brought by the board.
The vessel was a total wreck. Everyone was busily employed, but nobody
could be either heard or obeyed. The Anabaptist, being upon deck, lent a
helping hand as well as the rest, when a brutish sailor gave him a blow and
laid him speechless; but, not withstanding, with the violence of the blow the
tar himself tumbled headforemost overboard, and fell upon a piece of the
broken mast, which he immediately grasped.
Honest James, forgetting the injury he had so lately received from him, flew
to his assistance, and, with great difficulty, hauled him in again, but, not
withstanding, in the attempt, was, by a sudden jerk of the ship, thrown
overboard himself, in sight of the very fellow whom he had risked his life to
save and who took not the least notice of him in this distress. Candide, who
beheld all that passed and saw his benefactor one moment rising above
water, and the next swallowed up by the merciless waves, was preparing to
jump after him, but was prevented by the philosopher Pangloss, who
demonstrated to him that the roadstead of Lisbon had been made on
purpose for the Anabaptist to be drowned there. While he was proving his
argument a priori, the ship foundered, and the whole crew perished, except
Pangloss, Candide, and the sailor who had been the means of drowning the
good Anabaptist. The villain swam ashore; but Pangloss and Candide
reached the land upon a plank.
As soon as they had recovered from their surprise and fatigue they walked
towards Lisbon; with what little money they had left they thought to save
themselves from starving after having escaped drowning.
Scarcely had they ceased to lament the loss of their benefactor and set foot
in the city, when they perceived that the earth trembled under their feet, and
the sea, swelling and foaming in the harbor, was dashing in pieces the
vessels that were riding at anchor. Large sheets of flames and cinders
covered the streets and public places; the houses tottered, and were
tumbled topsy-turvy even to their foundations, which were themselves
destroyed, and thirty thousand inhabitants of both sexes, young and old,
were buried beneath the ruins.
The sailor, whistling and swearing, cried, "Damn it, there's something to be
got here."
"What can be the sufficing reason of this phenomenon?" said Pangloss.
"It is certainly the day of judgment", said Candide.
The sailor, defying death in the pursuit of plunder, rushed into the midst of
the ruin, where he found some money, with which he got drunk, and, after
he had slept himself sober he purchased the favors of the first good-natured
wench that came in his way, amidst the ruins of demolished houses and the
groans of half-buried and expiring persons.
Pangloss pulled him by the sleeve. "Friend", said he, "this is not right, you
trespass against the universal reason, and have mistaken your time."
"Death and zounds!" answered the other, "I am a sailor and was born at
Batavia, and have trampled four times upon the crucifix in as many voyages
to Japan; you have come to a good hand with your universal reason."
In the meantime, Candide, who had been wounded by some pieces of stone
that fell from the houses, lay stretched in the street, almost covered with
rubbish.
"For God's sake", said he to Pangloss, "get me a little wine and oil! I am
dying."
"This concussion of the earth is no new thing", said Pangloss, "the city of
Lima in South America experienced the same last year; the same cause,
the same effects; there is certainly a train of sulphur all the way
underground from Lima to Lisbon."
"Nothing is more probable", said Candide; "but for the love of God a little oil
and wine."
"Probable!" replied the philosopher, "I maintain that the thing is
demonstrable."
Candide fainted away, and Pangloss fetched him some water from a
neighboring spring. The next day, in searching among the ruins, they found
some eatables with which they repaired their exhausted strength. After this
they assisted the inhabitants in relieving the distressed and wounded. Some,
whom they had humanely assisted, gave them as good a dinner as could be
expected under such terrible circumstances. The repast, indeed, was
mournful, and the company moistened their bread with their tears; but
Pangloss endeavored to comfort them under this affliction by affirming that
things could not be otherwise that they were.
"For", said he, "all this is for the very best end, for if there is a volcano at
Lisbon it could be in no other spot; and it is impossible but things should be
as they are, for everything is for the best."
By the side of the preceptor sat a little man dressed in black, who was one
of the familiars of the Inquisition. This person, taking him up with great
complaisance, said, "Possibly, my good sir, you do not believe in original
sin; for, if everything is best, there could have been no such thing as the fall
or punishment of man."
Your Excellency will pardon me", answered Pangloss, still more politely; "for
the fall of man and the curse consequent thereupon necessarily entered into
the system of the best of worlds."
"That is as much as to say, sir", rejoined the familiar, "you do not believe in
free will."
"Your Excellency will be so good as to excuse me", said Pangloss, "free will
is consistent with absolute necessity; for it was necessary we should be
free, for in that the will-"
Pangloss was in the midst of his proposition, when the familiar beckoned to
his attendant to help him to a glass of port wine.