Voltaire · Complete work
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXI of 30. Read it here for reference, or continue through the entire work without leaving the reader.
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Candide et Martin approchent des côtes de France, et raisonnent.
On aperçut enfin les côtes de France. Avez-vous jamais été en France, monsieur Martin? dit Candide. Oui, dit Martin, j’ai parcouru plusieurs provinces. Il y en a où la moitié des habitants est folle, quelques unes où l’on est trop rusé, d’autres où l’on est communément assez doux et assez bête: d’autres où l’on fait le bel esprit; et, dans toutes, la principale occupation est l’amour; la seconde, de médire; et la troisième, de dire des sottises. Mais, monsieur Martin, avez-vous vu Paris? Oui, j’ai vu Paris; il tient de toutes ces espèces-là; c’est un chaos, c’est une presse dans laquelle tout le monde cherche le plaisir, et où presque personne ne le trouve, du moins à ce qu’il m’a paru. J’y ai séjourné peu; j’y fus volé, en arrivant, de tout ce que j’avais, par des filous, à la foire Saint-Germain; on me prit moi-même pour un voleur, et je fus huit jours en prison; après quoi je me fis correcteur d’imprimerie pour gagner de quoi retourner à pied en Hollande. Je connus la canaille écrivante, la canaille cabalante, et la canaille convulsionnaire. On dit qu’il y a des gens fort polis dans cette ville-là: je le veux croire.
Pour moi, je n’ai nulle curiosité de voir la France, dit Candide; vous devinez aisément que quand on a passé un mois dans Eldorado, on ne se soucie plus de rien voir sur la terre que mademoiselle Cunégonde: je vais l’attendre à Venise; nous traverserons la France pour aller en Italie; ne m’accompagnerez-vous pas? Très volontiers, dit Martin: on dit que Venise n’est bonne que pour les nobles vénitiens, mais que cependant on y reçoit très bien les étrangers quand ils ont beaucoup d’argent; je n’en ai point; vous en avez, je vous suivrai partout. A propos, dit Candide, pensez-vous que la terre ait été originairement une mer, comme on l’assure dans ce gros livre qui appartient au capitaine du vaisseau? Je n’en crois rien du tout, dit Martin, non plus que de toutes les rêveries qu’on nous débite depuis quelque temps. Mais à quelle fin ce monde a-t-il donc été formé? dit Candide. Pour nous faire enrager, répondit Martin. N’êtes-vous pas bien étonné, continua Candide, de l’amour que ces deux filles du pays des Oreillons avaient pour ces deux singes, et dont je vous ai conté l’aventure? Point du tout, dit Martin, je ne vois pas ce que cette passion a d’étrange; j’ai tant vu de choses extraordinaires, qu’il n’y a plus rien d’extraordinaire pour moi. Croyez-vous, dit Candide, que les hommes se soient toujours mutuellement massacrés comme ils font aujourd’hui? qu’ils aient toujours été menteurs, fourbes, perfides, ingrats, brigands, faibles, volages, lâches, envieux, gourmands, ivrognes, avares, ambitieux, sanguinaires, calomniateurs, débauchés, fanatiques, hypocrites, et sots? Croyez-vous, dit Martin, que les éperviers aient toujours mangé des pigeons quand ils en ont trouvé? Oui, sans doute, dit Candide. Eh bien! dit Martin, si les éperviers ont toujours eu le même caractère, pourquoi voulez-vous que les hommes aient changé le leur? Oh! dit Candide, il y a bien de la différence, car le libre arbitre…. En raisonnant ainsi, ils arrivèrent à Bordeaux.
«Quaque erat et tellus, illic et pontus et aer.»
Voyez la première journée de Telliamed, où il est dit que la mer a été supérieure d’an grand nombre de coudées à la plus haute de toutes nos montagnes. Voltaire parle souvent de De Maillet et de son Telliamed. Voyez entre autres, dans les Mélanges, année 1768, le chapitre XVIII des Singularités de la nature; et année 1777, le onzième des Dialogues d’Evhémère. B.
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.
Candide and Martin Approach the Coast of France and Reason Together.
At last they caught sight of the coast of France. “Have you ever been to France, Mr. Martin?” said Candide. “Yes,” said Martin. “I have traveled through several provinces. In some, half the inhabitants are mad; in some they are too cunning; in others they are generally rather gentle and rather foolish; elsewhere they affect a show of wit. And in all of them the chief occupation is love, the second is speaking ill of others, and the third is talking nonsense.” “But Mr. Martin, have you seen Paris?” “Yes, I have seen Paris. It has something of all those kinds of people. It is a chaos, a crush in which everyone seeks pleasure and almost no one finds it, at least as far as I could tell. I stayed there only a short while. On arriving, I was robbed of everything I had by thieves at the Saint-Germain fair; I was taken for a thief myself and spent eight days in prison. After that I worked as a printer’s proofreader to earn enough to walk back to Holland. I came to know the scribbling rabble, the scheming rabble, and the convulsionary rabble. They say there are very polite people in that city; I am willing to believe it.”
“As for me, I have no desire to see France,” said Candide. “You can easily imagine that after spending a month in Eldorado, one cares to see nothing else on earth but Miss Cunégonde. I shall wait for her in Venice. We shall cross France on our way to Italy; will you not come with me?” “Gladly,” said Martin. “They say Venice is good only for the Venetian nobility, but that foreigners are nonetheless made very welcome there when they have a great deal of money. I have none; you have some. I shall follow you anywhere.” “By the way,” said Candide, “do you think the earth was originally a sea, as they claim in that great book belonging to the ship’s captain?” “I do not believe a word of it,” said Martin, “any more than I believe all the fantasies they have been peddling lately.” “But what purpose was this world made for, then?” said Candide. “To drive us mad,” answered Martin. “Are you not astonished,” Candide went on, “at the love those two girls in the country of the Oreillons felt for those two monkeys, whose story I told you?” “Not at all,” said Martin. “I do not see anything strange about that passion. I have seen so many extraordinary things that nothing is extraordinary to me anymore.” “Do you believe,” said Candide, “that men have always slaughtered one another as they do today? That they have always been liars, cheats, traitors, ingrates, brigands, weaklings, inconstant, cowards, envious, gluttons, drunkards, misers, ambitious, bloodthirsty, slanderers, debauchees, fanatics, hypocrites, and fools?” “Do you believe,” said Martin, “that hawks have always eaten pigeons when they found them?” “Yes, certainly,” said Candide. “Well then,” said Martin, “if hawks have always had the same nature, why should men have changed theirs?” “Oh,” said Candide, “there is a great difference, because free will…” Reasoning in this fashion, they reached Bordeaux.
“And where once there was land, there too were sea and air.”
See the first day of Telliamed, where it is said that the sea stood a great many cubits higher than the highest of all our mountains. Voltaire often speaks of De Maillet and his Telliamed. See, among other places, in the Mélanges, the chapter XVIII of Singularités de la nature, from the year 1768, and the eleventh of Dialogues d’Evhémère, from the year 1777. B.
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.
Candide and Martin approach the coast of France and talk things over.
At last they sighted the coast of France. "Have you ever been to France, Mr. Martin?" Candide asked. "Yes," said Martin, "I've traveled through several provinces. In some, half the people are mad; in some, they are too crafty; in others, they are generally quite gentle and quite foolish. In others still, they try to show off their wit. And everywhere, their main occupation is love, their second is speaking badly of other people, and their third is saying stupid things." "But, Mr. Martin, have you seen Paris?" "Yes, I've seen Paris. It has all those sorts of people. It's chaos, a crush of people in which everyone looks for pleasure and almost no one finds it, at least as far as I could tell. I didn't stay long. When I arrived, pickpockets stole everything I had at the Saint-Germain fair. I myself was mistaken for a thief and spent eight days in prison. After that I worked as a proofreader to earn enough to walk back to Holland. I got to know the rabble who write, the rabble who scheme, and the rabble who go into convulsions. They say there are some very polite people in that city. I'm willing to believe it."
"As for me, I have no desire to see France," said Candide. "You can easily guess that after a month in Eldorado, there's nothing else on earth I want to see except Miss Cunégonde. I'll wait for her in Venice. We'll cross France on our way to Italy. Won't you come with me?" "Gladly," said Martin. "They say Venice is good only for Venetian nobles, but foreigners with a lot of money are treated very well there. I have none, and you have plenty. I'll follow you anywhere." "By the way," said Candide, "do you think the earth was originally a sea, as that big book belonging to the ship's captain claims?" "I don't believe a word of it," said Martin, "any more than I believe all the other wild theories people have been trying to sell us lately." "Then what was this world made for?" asked Candide. "To drive us mad," Martin replied. "Weren't you very surprised," Candide went on, "by the love those two girls in the land of the Oreillons had for the two monkeys I told you about?" "Not at all," said Martin. "I don't see anything strange about that passion. I've seen so many extraordinary things that nothing seems extraordinary to me anymore." "Do you think," said Candide, "that people have always killed one another as they do today? Have they always been liars, cheats, traitors, ingrates, robbers, weaklings, fickle, cowardly, envious, greedy, drunk, stingy, ambitious, bloodthirsty, slanderous, depraved, fanatical, hypocritical, and stupid?" "Do you think," said Martin, "that hawks have always eaten pigeons when they found them?" "Yes, of course," said Candide. "Well," said Martin, "if hawks have always behaved the same way, why would you expect people to change how they behave?" "Oh," said Candide, "there's a big difference, because of free will…" As they talked, they arrived at Bordeaux.
"Where there was land, there were also sea and air."
See the first day of Telliamed, which says that the sea once rose many cubits above the tallest of our mountains. Voltaire often mentions De Maillet and his Telliamed. See, among other places, chapter XVIII of Singularities of Nature in the Miscellanies for 1768, and the eleventh of the Dialogues of Euhemerus for 1777. B.