Voltaire · Complete work
Chapter III
Chapter III of 30. Read it here for reference, or continue through the entire work without leaving the reader.
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Comment Candide se sauva d’entre les Bulgares, et ce qu’il devint.
Rien n’était si beau, si leste, si brillant, si bien ordonné que les deux armées. Les trompettes, les fifres, les hautbois, les tambours, les canons; formaient une harmonie telle qu’il n’y en eut jamais en enfer. Les canons renversèrent d’abord à peu près six mille hommes de chaque côté; ensuite la mousqueterie ôta du meilleur des mondes environ neuf à dix mille coquins qui en infectaient la surface. La baïonnette fut aussi la raison suffisante de la mort de quelques milliers d’hommes. Le tout pouvait bien se monter à une trentaine de mille âmes. Candide, qui tremblait comme un philosophe, se cacha du mieux qu’il put pendant cette boucherie héroïque.
Enfin, tandis que les deux rois fesaient chanter des Te Deum, chacun dans son camp, il prit le parti d’aller raisonner ailleurs des effets et des causes. Il passa par-dessus des tas de morts et de mourants, et gagna d’abord un village voisin; il était en cendres: c’était un village abare que les Bulgares avaient brûlé, selon les lois du droit public. Ici des vieillards criblés de coups regardaient mourir leurs femmes égorgées, qui tenaient leurs enfants à leurs mamelles sanglantes; là des filles éventrées après avoir assouvi les besoins naturels de quelques héros, rendaient les derniers soupirs; d’autres à demi brûlées criaient qu’on achevât de leur donner la mort. Des cervelles étaient répandues sur la terre à côté de bras et de jambes coupés.
Candide s’enfuit au plus vite dans un autre village: il appartenait à des Bulgares, et les héros abares l’avaient traité de même. Candide, toujours marchant sur des membres palpitants ou à travers des ruines, arriva enfin hors du théâtre de la guerre, portant quelques petites provisions dans son bissac, et n’oubliant jamais mademoiselle Cunégonde. Ses provisions lui manquèrent quand il fut en Hollande; mais ayant entendu dire que tout le monde était riche dans ce pays-là, et qu’on y était chrétien, il ne douta pas qu’on ne le traitât aussi bien qu’il l’avait été dans le château de M. le baron, avant qu’il en eût été chassé pour les beaux yeux de mademoiselle Cunégonde.
Il demanda l’aumône à plusieurs graves personnages, qui lui répondirent tous que, s’il continuait à faire ce métier, on l’enfermerait dans une maison de correction pour lui apprendre à vivre.
Il s’adressa ensuite à un homme qui venait de parler tout seul une heure de suite sur la charité dans une grande assemblée. Cet orateur le regardant de travers lui dit: Que venez-vous faire ici? y êtes-vous pour la bonne cause? Il n’y a point d’effet sans cause, répondit modestement Candide; tout est enchaîné nécessairement et arrangé pour le mieux. Il a fallu que je fusse chassé d’auprès de mademoiselle Cunégonde, que j’aie passé par les baguettes, et il faut que je demande mon pain, jusqu’à ce que je puisse en gagner; tout cela ne pouvait être autrement. Mon ami, lui dit l’orateur, croyez-vous que le pape soit l’antechrist? Je ne l’avais pas encore entendu dire, répondit Candide: mais qu’il le soit, ou qu’il ne le soit pas, je manque de pain. Tu ne mérites pas d’en manger, dit l’autre: va, coquin, va, misérable, ne m’approche de ta vie. La femme de l’orateur ayant mis la tête à la fenêtre, et avisant un homme qui doutait que le pape fût antechrist, lui répandit sur le chef un plein….. O ciel! à quel excès se porte le zèle de la religion dans les dames!
Un homme qui n’avait point été baptisé, un bon anabaptiste, nommé Jacques, vit la manière cruelle et ignominieuse dont on traitait ainsi un de ses frères, un être à deux pieds sans plumes, qui avait une âme; il l’amena chez lui, le nettoya, lui donna du pain et de la bière, lui fit présent de deux florins, et voulut même lui apprendre à travailler dans ses manufactures aux étoffes de Perse qu’on fabrique en Hollande. Candide se prosternant presque devant lui, s’écriait: Maître Pangloss me l’avait bien dit que tout est au mieux dans ce monde, car je suis infiniment plus touché de votre extrême générosité que de la dureté de ce monsieur à manteau noir, et de madame son épouse.
Le lendemain, en se promenant, il rencontra un gueux tout couvert de pustules, les yeux morts, le bout du nez rongé, la bouche de travers, les dents noires, et parlant de la gorge, tourmenté d’une toux violente, et crachant une dent à chaque effort.
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.
How Candide Escaped from the Bulgarians, and What Became of Him.
Nothing could be so beautiful, so brisk, so brilliant, so well ordered as the two armies. Trumpets, fifes, oboes, drums, and cannons formed a harmony never equaled in hell. The cannons first knocked down about six thousand men on either side; then the musket fire removed from the best of worlds some nine to ten thousand scoundrels who infested its surface. The bayonet, too, was the sufficient reason for the deaths of several thousand men. Altogether the toll might well have reached thirty thousand souls. Candide, trembling like a philosopher, hid as best he could during this heroic slaughter.
At last, while the two kings each had a Te Deum sung in his own camp, Candide decided to go elsewhere to reason about effects and causes. He stepped over heaps of dead and dying men and reached a neighboring village. It was ashes: an Abare village the Bulgarians had burned, in accordance with the laws of public right. Here old men riddled with wounds watched their slaughtered wives die, their children held to bleeding breasts; there young women, disemboweled after satisfying the natural needs of certain heroes, breathed their last; others, half burned, cried out for someone to finish killing them. Brains lay scattered on the ground beside severed arms and legs.
Candide fled as fast as he could to another village. This one belonged to the Bulgarians, and the Abare heroes had treated it in just the same way. Still walking over quivering limbs or through ruins, Candide finally emerged from the theater of war with a few small provisions in his knapsack, never forgetting Cunégonde. His provisions ran out when he reached Holland; but having heard that everyone there was rich and that they were Christians, he had no doubt they would treat him as well as he had been treated in the baron's castle, before he was driven out for Cunégonde's beautiful eyes.
He asked several solemn personages for alms, and they all replied that if he went on in that trade, he would be shut up in a house of correction to teach him how to live.
He then approached a man who had just spent a whole hour speaking alone about charity before a large gathering. The orator looked askance at him and said, “What are you doing here? Are you here for the good cause?” “There is no effect without a cause,” Candide replied modestly. “Everything is necessarily linked and arranged for the best. I had to be driven away from Cunégonde; I had to run the gauntlet; and I must beg for bread until I can earn it. None of this could have been otherwise.” “My friend,” the orator said, “do you believe the pope is the Antichrist?” “I had never heard that said before,” Candide replied. “But whether he is or is not, I have no bread.” “You don't deserve any,” said the other. “Get out, scoundrel, get out, wretch; never come near me again.” The orator's wife put her head out of the window and, seeing a man who doubted that the pope was the Antichrist, poured a whole potful of … over his head. O heaven! To what lengths religious zeal carries ladies!
A man who had not been baptized, a good Anabaptist named Jacques, saw the cruel and humiliating treatment of one of his brothers, a featherless two-legged being with a soul. He took Candide home, cleaned him up, gave him bread and beer, presented him with two florins, and even offered to teach him to work in his factories making Persian fabrics produced in Holland. Candide nearly fell at his feet, exclaiming, “Master Pangloss was quite right when he told me all is for the best in this world, for your extraordinary generosity moves me infinitely more than the harshness of that gentleman in the black cloak and his wife.”
The next day, while out walking, he encountered a beggar covered in pustules, his eyes lifeless, the tip of his nose eaten away, his mouth twisted, his teeth black. He spoke from deep in his throat, was racked by a violent cough, and spat out a tooth with every effort.
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.
How Candide escaped from the Bulgars, and what happened to him afterward.
Nothing could have been finer, smarter, brighter, or better organized than the two armies. The trumpets, fifes, oboes, drums, and cannons made music unlike anything ever heard in hell. The cannons first knocked down about six thousand men on each side. Then the muskets removed from the best of all worlds about nine to ten thousand scoundrels who had been spoiling its surface. The bayonet, too, was the sufficient reason for the deaths of several thousand men. Altogether, some thirty thousand souls may have died. Candide trembled like a philosopher and hid as well as he could during this heroic slaughter.
At last, while each king had a Te Deum sung in his own camp, Candide decided to discuss causes and effects somewhere else. He climbed over piles of dead and dying men and came first to a nearby village. It had been reduced to ashes. It was an Abares village that the Bulgars had burned in accordance with the laws of nations. Here, old men riddled with wounds watched their slaughtered wives die as they held their children to their bloody breasts. There, girls who had been cut open after satisfying the natural needs of a few heroes breathed their last. Others, half burned, cried out for someone to finish killing them. Brains lay scattered on the ground beside severed arms and legs.
Candide fled as fast as he could to another village. This one belonged to the Bulgars, and the Abares heroes had treated it the same way. Candide kept walking over twitching limbs and through ruins until he finally left the scene of the war. He carried a few small provisions in his bag and never forgot Miss Cunégonde. He ran out of food when he reached Holland. But he had heard that everyone in that country was rich and Christian, so he was sure they would treat him as well as he had been treated at the baron's castle before he was driven out for Miss Cunégonde's beautiful eyes.
He asked several respectable people for charity. Every one of them answered that if he kept up this occupation, he would be locked in a workhouse to teach him how to behave.
Then he approached a man who had just spent a whole hour speaking by himself about charity to a large gathering. The speaker gave him a hostile look and said, "What are you doing here? Are you here for the good cause?" "There is no effect without a cause," Candide answered modestly. "Everything is necessarily linked and arranged for the best. I had to be driven away from Miss Cunégonde and run the gauntlet, and now I have to beg for bread until I can earn it. None of this could have happened any other way." "My friend," said the speaker, "do you believe the pope is the Antichrist?" "I hadn't heard that before," answered Candide. "But whether he is or not, I have no bread." "You don't deserve any," said the man. "Get out, you scoundrel, you wretch. Never come near me again." The speaker's wife stuck her head out the window and noticed a man who doubted that the pope was the Antichrist. She poured a whole… over his head. Good heavens! How far religious zeal can carry women!
A man who had never been baptized, a good Anabaptist named Jacques, saw the cruel and humiliating way they treated one of his fellow human beings—a two-legged creature without feathers and with a soul. He took Candide home, cleaned him up, gave him bread and beer and two florins, and even offered to teach him to work in his factories, which made Persian-style fabrics in Holland. Candide nearly fell to his knees before him and cried, "Master Pangloss was right to tell me everything is for the best in this world. Your extraordinary generosity moves me far more than the harshness of that gentleman in the black cloak and his wife."
The next day, while walking, he met a beggar covered in sores. The man's eyes were lifeless, the end of his nose had been eaten away, his mouth was twisted, and his teeth were black. He spoke from his throat, was racked by a violent cough, and spat out a tooth each time he coughed.