Voltaire · Complete work
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVI of 30. Read it here for reference, or continue through the entire work without leaving the reader.
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Ce qui advint aux deux voyageurs avec deux filles, deux singes, et les sauvages nommés Oreillons.
Candide et son valet furent au-delà des barrières, et personne ne savait encore dans le camp la mort du jésuite allemand. Le vigilant Cacambo avait eu soin de remplir sa valise de pain, de chocolat, de jambon, de fruits, et de quelques mesures de vin. Ils s’enfoncèrent avec leurs chevaux andalous dans un pays inconnu où ils ne découvrirent aucune route. Enfin une belle prairie entrecoupée de ruisseaux se présenta devant eux. Nos deux voyageurs font repaître leurs montures. Cacambo propose à son maître de manger, et lui en donne l’exemple. Comment veux-tu, disait Candide, que je mange du jambon, quand j’ai tué le fils de monsieur le baron, et que je me vois condamné à ne revoir la belle Cunégonde de ma vie? à quoi me servira de prolonger mes misérables jours, puisque je dois les traîner loin d’elle dans les remords et dans le désespoir? et que dira le Journal de Trévoux?
En parlant ainsi, il ne laissa pas de manger. Le soleil se couchait. Les deux égarés entendirent quelques petits cris qui paraissaient poussés par des femmes. Ils ne savaient si ces cris étaient de douleur ou de joie; mais ils se levèrent précipitamment avec cette inquiétude et cette alarme que tout inspire dans un pays inconnu. Ces clameurs partaient de deux filles toutes nues qui couraient légèrement au bord de la prairie, tandis que deux singes les suivaient en leur mordant les fesses. Candide fut touché de pitié; il avait appris à tirer chez les Bulgares, et il aurait abattu une noisette dans un buisson sans toucher aux feuilles. Il prend son fusil espagnol à deux coups, tire, et tue les deux singes. Dieu soit loué, mon cher Cacambo! j’ai délivré d’un grand péril ces deux pauvres créatures: si j’ai commis un péché en tuant un inquisiteur et un jésuite, je l’ai bien réparé en sauvant la vie à deux filles. Ce sont peut-être deux demoiselles de condition, et cette aventure nous peut procurer de très grands avantages dans le pays.
Il allait continuer, mais sa langue devint percluse quand il vit ces deux filles embrasser tendrement les deux singes, fondre en larmes sur leurs corps, et remplir l’air des cris les plus douloureux. Je ne m’attendais pas à tant de bonté d’âme, dit-il enfin à Cacambo; lequel lui répliqua: Vous avez fait là un beau chef d’oeuvre, mon maître; vous avez tué les deux amants de ces demoiselles. Leurs amants! serait-il possible? vous vous moquez de moi, Cacambo; le moyen de vous croire? Mon cher maître, repartit Cacambo, vous êtes toujours étonné de tout; pourquoi trouvez-vous si étrange que dans quelques pays il y ait des singes qui obtiennent les bonnes grâces des dames? ils sont des quarts d’homme, comme je suis un quart d’Espagnol. Hélas! reprit Candide, je me souviens d’avoir entendu dire à maître Pangloss qu’autrefois pareils accidents étaient arrivés, et que ces mélanges avaient produit des égypans, des faunes, des satyres; que plusieurs grands personnages de l’antiquité en avaient vu; mais je prenais cela pour des fables. Vous devez être convaincu à présent, dit Cacambo, que c’est une vérité, et vous voyez comment en usent les personnes qui n’ont pas reçu une certaine éducation; tout ce que je crains, c’est que ces dames ne nous fassent quelque méchante affaire.
Ces réflexions solides engagèrent Candide à quitter la prairie, et à s’enfoncer dans un bois. Il y soupa avec Cacambo; et tous deux, après avoir maudit l’inquisiteur de Portugal, le gouverneur de Buénos-Ayres, et le baron, s’endormirent sur de la mousse. A leur réveil, ils sentirent qu’ils ne pouvaient remuer; la raison en était que pendant la nuit les Oreillons, habitants du pays, à qui les deux dames les avaient dénoncés, les avaient garrottés avec des cordes d’écorces d’arbre.
Ils étaient entourés d’une cinquantaine d’Oreillons tout nus, armés de flèches, de massues, et de haches de caillou: les uns fesaient bouillir une grande chaudière; les autres préparaient des broches, et tous criaient: C’est un jésuite, c’est un jésuite! nous serons vengés, et nous ferons bonne chère; mangeons du jésuite, mangeons du jésuite!
Je vous l’avais bien dit, mon cher maître, s’écria tristement Cacambo, que ces deux filles nous joueraient d’un mauvais tour. Candide apercevant la chaudière et les broches s’écria: Nous allons certainement être rôtis ou bouillis. Ah! que dirait maître Pangloss, s’il voyait comme la pure nature est faite? Tout est bien; soit, mais j’avoue qu’il est bien cruel, d’avoir perdu mademoiselle Cunégonde, et d’être mis à la broche par des Oreillons. Cacambo ne perdait jamais la tête. Ne désespérez de rien, dit-il au désolé Candide; j’entends un peu le jargon de ces peuples, je vais leur parler. Ne manquez pas, dit Candide, de leur représenter quelle est l’inhumanité affreuse de faire cuire des hommes, et combien cela est peu chrétien.
Messieurs, dit Cacambo, vous comptez donc manger aujourd’hui un jésuite? c’est très bien fait; rien n’est plus juste que de traiter ainsi ses ennemis. En effet le droit naturel nous enseigne à tuer notre prochain, et c’est ainsi qu’on en agit dans toute la terre. Si nous n’usons pas du droit de le manger, c’est que nous avons d’ailleurs de quoi faire bonne chère; mais vous n’avez pas les mêmes ressources que nous: certainement il vaut mieux manger ses ennemis que d’abandonner aux corbeaux et aux corneilles le fruit de sa victoire. Mais, messieurs, vous ne voudriez pas manger vos amis. Vous croyez aller mettre un jésuite en broche, et c’est votre défenseur, c’est l’ennemi de vos ennemis que vous allez rôtir. Pour moi, je suis né dans votre pays; monsieur que vous voyez est mon maître, et bien loin d’être jésuite, il vient de tuer un jésuite, il en porte les dépouilles; voilà le sujet de votre méprise. Pour vérifier ce que je vous dis, prenez sa robe, portez-la à la première barrière du royaume de los padres; informez-vous si mon maître n’a pas tué un officier jésuite. Il vous faudra peu de temps; vous pourrez toujours nous manger, si vous trouvez que je vous ai menti. Mais, si je vous ai dit la vérité, vous connaissez trop les principes du droit public, les moeurs, et les lois, pour ne nous pas faire grâce.
Les Oreillons trouvèrent ce discours très raisonnable; ils députèrent deux notables pour aller en diligence s’informer de la vérité; les deux députés s’acquittèrent de leur commission en gens d’esprit, et revinrent bientôt apporter de bonnes nouvelles. Les Oreillons délièrent leurs deux prisonniers, leur firent toutes sortes de civilités, leur offrirent des filles, leur donnèrent des rafraîchissements, et les reconduisirent jusqu’aux confins de leurs états, en criant avec allégresse: Il n’est point jésuite, il n’est point jésuite!
Candide ne se lassait point d’admirer le sujet de sa délivrance. Quel peuple! disait-il, quels hommes! quelles moeurs! si je n’avais pas eu le bonheur de donner un grand coup d’épée au travers du corps du frère de mademoiselle Cunégonde, j’étais mangé sans rémission. Mais, après tout, la pure nature est bonne, puisque ces gens-ci, au lieu de me manger, m’ont fait mille honnêtetés, dès qu’ils ont su que je n’étais pas jésuite.
Musean translation
Mouseia’s complete machine-assisted Musean translation, made directly from the French text of all thirty chapters (Beuchot edition, 1829) for fidelity, the author’s force and cadence, and modern clarity. The editor’s notes are omitted.
What Befell the Two Travelers with Two Girls, Two Monkeys, and the Savages Called Oreillons.
Candide and his servant had crossed the barriers, and no one in the camp yet knew of the German Jesuit’s death. The watchful Cacambo had taken care to fill his bag with bread, chocolate, ham, fruit, and a few measures of wine. On their Andalusian horses they pressed into an unknown country where they found no road. At last a lovely meadow threaded with streams appeared before them. Our two travelers let their mounts graze. Cacambo suggested that his master eat, and set him the example. “How can you expect me,” said Candide, “to eat ham when I have killed the baron’s son and find myself condemned never to see the beautiful Cunégonde again? What use is there in prolonging my miserable days if I must spend them far from her, in remorse and despair? And what will the Journal de Trévoux say?”
While he was speaking, he nevertheless ate. The sun was setting. The two wanderers heard little cries that seemed to come from women. They could not tell whether they were cries of pain or joy; but they rose in haste, seized by the unease and alarm that everything arouses in an unknown country. The cries came from two naked girls running lightly along the edge of the meadow, while two monkeys chased them, biting their buttocks. Candide was moved to pity. He had learned to shoot among the Bulgarians, and could have shot a hazelnut in a bush without touching its leaves. He took his Spanish double-barreled gun, fired, and killed both monkeys. “God be praised, my dear Cacambo! I have rescued those two poor creatures from great danger. If I sinned by killing an inquisitor and a Jesuit, I have surely made up for it by saving two girls’ lives. Perhaps they are young ladies of rank, and this adventure may bring us great advantages in this country.”
He would have continued, but his tongue froze when he saw the two girls embrace the monkeys tenderly, burst into tears over their bodies, and fill the air with the most heartrending cries. “I had not expected so much tenderness of heart,” he finally said to Cacambo, who replied, “A fine piece of work you have done, master: you have killed those young ladies’ two lovers.” “Their lovers! Can that be? You are making fun of me, Cacambo. How can I believe you?” “My dear master,” Cacambo replied, “everything still astonishes you. Why should you find it so strange that in some countries monkeys win the favors of ladies? They are one-quarter human, as I am one-quarter Spanish.” “Alas!” Candide answered, “I remember hearing Master Pangloss say that such things had once happened, and that these unions had produced aegipans, fauns, and satyrs; that several great men of antiquity had seen them. But I took them for fables.” “You must now be convinced,” said Cacambo, “that it is true; and you see how people behave when they have not received a certain education. My only fear is that those ladies may bring some trouble upon us.”
These sound reflections persuaded Candide to leave the meadow and venture deep into a wood. There he supped with Cacambo; and both, after cursing the inquisitor of Portugal, the governor of Buenos Aires, and the baron, fell asleep on a bed of moss. When they woke, they found they could not move. The reason was that during the night the Oreillons, the inhabitants of the country, to whom the two ladies had reported them, had bound them tightly with ropes made of tree bark.
They were surrounded by about fifty naked Oreillons, armed with arrows, clubs, and stone axes. Some were boiling a great cauldron; others were preparing spits; and all shouted, “It’s a Jesuit, it’s a Jesuit! We shall be avenged, and we shall feast well. Let us eat the Jesuit, let us eat the Jesuit!”
“Did I not tell you, my dear master,” Cacambo cried sadly, “that those two girls would play us a nasty trick?” Candide, seeing the cauldron and the spits, cried out, “We shall certainly be roasted or boiled! Ah, what would Master Pangloss say if he saw what unspoiled nature is like? All is well, so be it; but I confess it is cruel to have lost Mademoiselle Cunégonde and to be put on a spit by Oreillons.” Cacambo never lost his head. “Do not despair of anything,” he told the desolate Candide. “I know a little of these people’s language; I shall speak to them.” “Be sure,” said Candide, “to explain to them how frightfully inhuman it is to cook men, and how unchristian.”
“Gentlemen,” said Cacambo, “you mean to eat a Jesuit today, then? That is very well done; nothing is more just than treating one’s enemies in this way. Indeed, natural law teaches us to kill our neighbors, and that is how things are done throughout the world. If we do not exercise our right to eat them, it is because we have other ways of feasting well; but you do not have the same resources as we do. It is certainly better to eat one’s enemies than to leave the fruits of victory to the ravens and crows. But, gentlemen, you would not wish to eat your friends. You think you are going to put a Jesuit on a spit, but the man you are about to roast is your defender, the enemy of your enemies. As for me, I was born in your country; the gentleman you see here is my master, and far from being a Jesuit, he has just killed one, and is wearing his clothes. That is the cause of your mistake. To verify what I say, take his robe to the first barrier of the kingdom of los padres and ask whether my master has killed a Jesuit officer. It will take you little time; you can always eat us if you find that I have lied. But if I have told the truth, you know too well the principles of public law, customs, and laws not to spare us.”
The Oreillons found this speech very reasonable. They sent two leading men to investigate the truth without delay; the two envoys carried out their mission intelligently and soon returned with good news. The Oreillons untied their two prisoners, showed them every courtesy, offered them girls, gave them refreshments, and escorted them to the borders of their territory, crying joyfully, “He is not a Jesuit, he is not a Jesuit!”
Candide could not cease marveling at the reason for his deliverance. “What a people!” he said. “What men! What customs! If I had not had the good fortune to thrust a sword clean through Mademoiselle Cunégonde’s brother, I would have been eaten without mercy. But, after all, unspoiled nature is good, since these people, instead of eating me, showed me a thousand kindnesses as soon as they knew I was not a Jesuit.”
Plain English translation
Mouseia’s complete Plain English edition, made independently and directly from the French text of all thirty chapters (Beuchot edition, 1829). The editor’s notes are omitted.
What happened to the two travelers with two girls, two monkeys, and the people called Oreillons.
Candide and his servant crossed the checkpoints before anyone in the camp knew that the German Jesuit was dead. The careful Cacambo had filled his bag with bread, chocolate, ham, fruit, and a few measures of wine. They rode their Andalusian horses deep into an unknown country where they could find no road. At last a lovely meadow crossed by streams opened before them. The two travelers let their horses graze. Cacambo suggested that his master eat, and began eating himself to set an example. “How can you expect me to eat ham,” said Candide, “when I've killed the baron's son and know I'm condemned never to see beautiful Cunégonde again? What use is it to prolong my miserable life if I must spend it far from her, full of guilt and despair? And what will the Journal de Trévoux say?”
He spoke like this, but ate all the same. The sun was setting. The two lost travelers heard some faint cries that sounded as if they came from women. They could not tell whether the cries were from pain or joy. But they got up quickly, anxious and alarmed as people are by everything in an unknown land. The cries came from two naked girls running swiftly along the edge of the meadow. Two monkeys chased them and bit their buttocks. Candide felt sorry for the girls. He had learned to shoot with the Bulgarians and could hit a hazelnut in a bush without touching its leaves. He took his double-barreled Spanish gun, fired, and killed both monkeys. “Thank God, dear Cacambo! I've saved these two poor creatures from great danger. If I sinned by killing an inquisitor and a Jesuit, I've more than made up for it by saving two girls' lives. They may be young ladies of high rank, and this adventure may bring us great rewards here.”
He was about to say more, but fell silent when he saw the two girls tenderly embrace the monkeys, burst into tears over their bodies, and fill the air with cries of grief. “I didn't expect them to be so kindhearted,” he finally told Cacambo. Cacambo replied, “A fine piece of work you've done, master. You've killed these young ladies' two lovers.” “Their lovers! Can that be true? You're joking, Cacambo. How can I believe you?” “Dear master,” answered Cacambo, “everything surprises you. Why do you find it so strange that in some countries monkeys win the affection of women? They're a quarter human, just as I'm a quarter Spanish.” “Oh!” said Candide. “I remember hearing Master Pangloss say that such things had happened long ago. He said that these unions had produced goat-legged men, fauns, and satyrs, and that several great men of antiquity had seen them. But I took those stories for fables.” “Now you must see it's true,” said Cacambo. “You can see what people without a certain education get up to. My only worry is that these ladies may cause us some trouble.”
These sensible reflections persuaded Candide to leave the meadow and go into a forest. He ate supper there with Cacambo. After cursing the inquisitor of Portugal, the governor of Buenos Aires, and the baron, they both fell asleep on the moss. When they woke, they found they could not move. During the night, the Oreillons, the local people, had tied them up with ropes made from tree bark. The two ladies had reported them to the Oreillons.
They were surrounded by about fifty naked Oreillons armed with arrows, clubs, and stone axes. Some were heating a large cauldron, while others prepared spits. All of them shouted, “It's a Jesuit! It's a Jesuit! We'll get our revenge and have a fine feast! Let's eat the Jesuit! Let's eat the Jesuit!”
“I told you, dear master,” cried Cacambo sadly, “that those two girls would play a nasty trick on us.” Candide saw the cauldron and the spits and cried, “We're certainly going to be roasted or boiled! Oh, what would Master Pangloss say if he saw what pure nature was really like? All is well, if you say so. But I admit it's cruel to have lost Miss Cunégonde and then to be put on a spit by the Oreillons.” Cacambo never lost his head. “Don't give up hope,” he told the desperate Candide. “I understand a little of these people's language. I'll speak to them.” “Be sure to explain,” said Candide, “how terribly inhuman it is to cook people and how unchristian it is.”
“Gentlemen,” said Cacambo, “so you intend to eat a Jesuit today? Very good. Nothing could be fairer than treating your enemies that way. After all, the law of nature teaches us to kill our neighbors, and people do it all over the world. If we don't use our right to eat them, it's because we have plenty of other good food. But you don't have the same resources we do. It's certainly better to eat your enemies than to leave the fruits of your victory to the ravens and crows. But, gentlemen, you wouldn't want to eat your friends. You think you're going to put a Jesuit on a spit, but you're about to roast your defender, the enemy of your enemies. I was born in your country. The man you see is my master, and far from being a Jesuit, he has just killed one. He's wearing the dead man's clothes. That's why you made this mistake. To check what I've told you, take his robe to the first checkpoint of the kingdom of los padres and ask whether my master killed a Jesuit officer. It won't take long. You can still eat us if you find I've lied. But if I've told the truth, you know the rules between peoples, their customs and their laws too well not to spare us.”
The Oreillons found this speech very reasonable. They sent two leading men to find out the truth as quickly as possible. The two envoys carried out their task intelligently and soon came back with good news. The Oreillons untied their two prisoners, treated them with every courtesy, offered them girls, gave them refreshments, and escorted them to the borders of their territory. As they went, they cried happily, “He isn't a Jesuit! He isn't a Jesuit!”
Candide could not stop marveling at how he had escaped. “What a people!” he said. “What men! What customs! If I hadn't had the good luck to run a sword right through Miss Cunégonde's brother, I'd have been eaten without a doubt. But pure nature must be good after all. Once these people learned I wasn't a Jesuit, they treated me with a thousand kindnesses instead of eating me.”