Voltaire · Complete work
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIII of 30. Read it here for reference, or continue through the entire work without leaving the reader.
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Candide et Martin vont sur les côtes d’Angleterre; ce qu’ils y voient.
Ah! Pangloss! Pangloss! Ah! Martin! Martin! Ah! ma chère Cunégonde! qu’est-ce que ce monde-ci? disait Candide sur le vaisseau hollandais. Quelque chose de bien fou et de bien abominable, répondait Martin.—Vous connaissez l’Angleterre; y est-on aussi fou qu’en France? C’est une autre espèce de folie, dit Martin. Vous savez que ces deux nations sont en guerre pour quelques arpents de neige vers le Canada, et qu’elles dépensent pour cette belle guerre beaucoup plus que tout le Canada ne vaut. De vous dire précisément s’il y a plus de gens à lier dans un pays que dans un autre, c’est ce que mes faibles lumières ne me permettent pas; je sais seulement qu’en général les gens que nous allons voir sont fort atrabilaires.
En causant ainsi ils abordèrent à Portsmouth; une multitude de peuple couvrait le rivage, et regardait attentivement un assez gros homme qui était à genoux, les yeux bandés, sur le tillac d’un des vaisseaux de la flotte; quatre soldats, postés vis-à-vis de cet homme, lui tirèrent chacun trois balles dans le crâne, le plus paisiblement du monde; et toute l’assemblée s’en retourna extrêmement satisfaite. Qu’est-ce donc que tout ceci? dit Candide; et quel démon exerce partout son empire? Il demanda qui était ce gros homme qu’on venait de tuer en cérémonie. C’est un amiral, lui répondit-on. Et pourquoi tuer cet amiral? C’est, lui dit-on, parcequ’il n’a pas fait tuer assez de monde; il a livré un combat à un amiral français, et on a trouvé qu’il n’était pas assez près de lui. Mais, dit Candide, l’amiral français était aussi loin de l’amiral anglais que celui-ci l’était de l’autre! Cela est incontestable, lui répliqua-t-on; mais dans ce pays-ci il est bon de tuer de temps en temps un amiral pour encourager les autres.
Candide fut si étourdi et si choqué de ce qu’il voyait et de ce qu’il entendait, qu’il ne voulut pas seulement mettre pied à terre, et qu’il fit son marché avec le patron hollandais (dût-il le voler comme celui de Surinam), pour le conduire sans délai à Venise.
Le patron fut prêt au bout de deux jours. On côtoya la France; on passa à la vue de Lisbonne, et Candide frémit. On entra dans le détroit et dans la Méditerranée, enfin on aborda à Venise. Dieu soit loué! dit Candide, en embrassant Martin; c’est ici que je reverrai la belle Cunégonde. Je compte sur Cacambo comme sur moi-même. Tout est bien, tout va bien, tout va le mieux qu’il soit possible.
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 Reach the Coast of England; What They See There.
“Ah, Pangloss! Pangloss! Ah, Martin! Martin! Ah, my dear Cunégonde! What kind of world is this?” Candide said aboard the Dutch ship. “A very mad and very abominable one,” Martin answered. “You know England; are they as mad there as in France?” “It is another kind of madness,” said Martin. “You know that these two nations are at war over a few acres of snow near Canada, and that they are spending far more on this splendid war than all of Canada is worth. My limited understanding does not permit me to tell you precisely whether one country has more people fit to be locked up than the other; I know only that, in general, the people we are about to see are very ill-tempered.”
As they spoke, they reached Portsmouth. A great crowd covered the shore and watched intently as a fairly stout man knelt blindfolded on the deck of one of the fleet’s ships. Four soldiers stationed opposite him each fired three bullets into his skull with the utmost composure; and the entire assembly went home exceedingly satisfied. “What does all this mean?” said Candide. “And what demon holds sway everywhere?” He asked who the stout man was whom they had just killed with such ceremony. “An admiral,” someone answered. “And why kill this admiral?” “Because,” he was told, “he did not have enough people killed. He fought an engagement with a French admiral, and it was decided that he had not been close enough to him.” “But,” said Candide, “the French admiral was as far from the English admiral as the English admiral was from him!” “That is beyond dispute,” came the reply, “but in this country it is considered a good thing to kill an admiral from time to time, to encourage the others.”
Candide was so stunned and horrified by what he saw and heard that he would not even set foot ashore. He struck a bargain with the Dutch captain to take him to Venice without delay, even if the man robbed him as the captain from Surinam had done.
The captain was ready in two days. They sailed along the coast of France; they passed within sight of Lisbon, and Candide shuddered. They entered the strait and the Mediterranean, and at last reached Venice. “Thank God!” said Candide, embracing Martin. “Here I shall see the beautiful Cunégonde again. I trust Cacambo as I trust myself. All is well, all goes well, all goes as well as it possibly can.”
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 Go to the Coast of England; What They See There.
“Ah, Pangloss! Pangloss! Ah, Martin! Martin! Ah, my dear Cunégonde! What kind of world is this?” Candide said aboard the Dutch ship. “A very crazy and very horrible one,” Martin replied. “You know England. Are they as crazy there as they are in France?” “It's a different kind of madness,” said Martin. “You know that these two nations are at war over a few acres of snow near Canada. They are spending far more on this fine war than all of Canada is worth. My limited knowledge won't let me say exactly whether more people need locking up in one country than in the other. I only know that, in general, the people we're going to see have very sour tempers.”
As they talked, they arrived at Portsmouth. A crowd covered the shore and watched a fairly large man kneeling, blindfolded, on the deck of a ship in the fleet. Four soldiers stood facing him. Each calmly fired three bullets into his head. The whole crowd went away extremely pleased. “What is all this?” said Candide. “What demon rules everywhere?” He asked who the large man they had just killed in that ceremony was. “An admiral,” someone answered. “And why kill this admiral?” “Because he didn't get enough people killed,” came the answer. “He fought a French admiral, and they decided he hadn't been close enough to him.” “But,” said Candide, “the French admiral was just as far from the English admiral as the English admiral was from him!” “That's beyond dispute,” he was told. “But in this country it's a good idea to kill an admiral now and then to encourage the others.”
Candide was so stunned and upset by what he saw and heard that he refused even to set foot ashore. He made a deal with the Dutch captain to take him straight to Venice, even if the man robbed him like the captain from Surinam.
The captain was ready after two days. They sailed along the French coast. They passed within sight of Lisbon, and Candide shuddered. They entered the strait and the Mediterranean, and finally landed at Venice. “Thank God!” said Candide, embracing Martin. “Here I will see the beautiful Cunégonde again. I trust Cacambo as much as I trust myself. Everything is fine. Everything is going well. Everything is going as well as it possibly could.”