Voltaire · Complete work
Chapter VIII
Chapter VIII of 30. Read it here for reference, or continue through the entire work without leaving the reader.
Open the complete readerOriginal French
Histoire de Cunégonde.
J’étais dans mon lit et je dormais profondément, quand il plut au ciel d’envoyer les Bulgares dans notre beau château de Thunder-ten-tronckh; ils égorgèrent mon père et mon frère, et coupèrent ma mère par morceaux. Un grand Bulgare, haut de six pieds, voyant qu’à ce spectacle j’avais perdu connaissance, se mit à me violer; cela me fit revenir, je repris mes sens, je criai, je me débattis, je mordis, j’égratignai, je voulais arracher les yeux à ce grand Bulgare, ne sachant pas que tout ce qui arrivait dans le château de mon père était une chose d’usage: le brutal me donna un coup de couteau dans le flanc gauche dont je porte encore la marque. Hélas! j’espère bien la voir, dit le naïf Candide. Vous la verrez, dit Cunégonde; mais continuons. Continuez, dit Candide.
Elle reprit ainsi le fil de son histoire: Un capitaine bulgare entra, il me vit toute sanglante, et le soldat ne se dérangeait pas. Le capitaine se mit en colère du peu de respect que lui témoignait, ce brutal, et le tua sur mon corps. Ensuite il me fit panser, et m’emmena prisonnière de guerre dans son quartier. Je blanchissais le peu de chemises qu’il avait, je fesais sa cuisine; il me trouvait fort jolie, il faut l’avouer; et je ne nierai pas qu’il ne fût très bien fait, et qu’il n’eût la peau blanche et douce; d’ailleurs peu d’esprit, peu de philosophie: on voyait bien qu’il n’avait pas été élevé par le docteur Pangloss. Au bout de trois mois, ayant perdu tout son argent, et s’étant dégoûté de moi, il me vendit à un Juif nommé don Issachar, qui trafiquait en Hollande et en Portugal, et qui aimait passionnément les femmes. Ce Juif s’attacha beaucoup à ma personne, mais il ne pouvait en triompher; je lui ai mieux résisté qu’au soldat bulgare: une personne d’honneur peut être violée une fois, mais sa vertu s’en affermit. Le Juif, pour m’apprivoiser, me mena dans cette maison de campagne que vous voyez. J’avais cru jusque-là qu’il n’y avait rien sur la terre de si beau que le château de Thunder-ten-tronckh; j’ai été détrompée.
Le grand-inquisiteur m’aperçut un jour à la messe; il me lorgna beaucoup, et me fit dire qu’il avait à me parler pour des affaires secrètes. Je fus conduite à son palais; je lui appris ma naissance; il me représenta combien il était au-dessous de mon rang d’appartenir à un Israélite. On proposa de sa part à don Issachar de me céder à monseigneur. Don Issachar, qui est le banquier de la cour, et homme de crédit, n’en voulut rien faire. L’inquisiteur le menaça d’un auto-da-fé. Enfin mon Juif intimidé conclut un marché par lequel la maison et moi leur appartiendraient à tous deux en commun; que le Juif aurait pour lui les lundis, mercredis, et le jour du sabbat, et que l’inquisiteur aurait les autres jours de la semaine. Il y a six mois que cette convention subsiste. Ce n’a pas été sans querelles; car souvent il a été indécis si la nuit du samedi au dimanche appartenait à l’ancienne loi ou à la nouvelle. Pour moi, j’ai résisté jusqu’à présent à toutes les deux; et je crois que c’est pour cette raison que j’ai toujours été aimée.
Enfin, pour détourner le fléau des tremblements de terre, et pour intimider don Issachar, il plut à monseigneur l’inquisiteur de célébrer un auto-da-fé. Il me fit l’honneur de m’y inviter. Je fus très bien placée; on servit aux dames des rafraîchissements entre la messe et l’exécution. Je fus, à la vérité, saisie d’horreur en voyant brûler ces deux Juifs et cet honnête Biscayen qui avait épousé sa commère: mais quelle fut ma surprise, mon effroi, mon trouble, quand je vis dans un san-benito, et sous une mitre, une figure qui ressemblait à celle de Pangloss! Je me frottai les yeux, je regardai attentivement, je le vis pendre; je tombai en faiblesse. A peine reprenais-je mes sens, que je vous vis dépouillé tout nu; ce fut là le comble de l’horreur, de la consternation, de la douleur, du désespoir. Je vous dirai, avec vérité, que votre peau est encore plus blanche, et d’un incarnat plus parfait que celle de mon capitaine des Bulgares. Cette vue redoubla tous les sentiments qui m’accablaient, qui me dévoraient. Je m’écriai, je voulus dire, Arrêtez, barbares! mais la voix me manqua, et mes cris auraient été inutiles. Quand vous eûtes été bien fessé: Comment se peut-il faire, disais-je, que l’aimable Candide et le sage Pangloss se trouvent à Lisbonne, l’un pour recevoir cent coups de fouet, et l’autre pour être pendu par l’ordre de monseigneur l’inquisiteur, dont je suis la bien-aimée? Pangloss m’a donc bien cruellement trompée, quand il me disait que tout va le mieux du monde!
Agitée, éperdue, tantôt hors de moi-même, et tantôt prête de mourir de faiblesse, j’avais la tête remplie du massacre de mon père, de ma mère, de mon frère, de l’insolence de mon vilain soldat bulgare, du coup de couteau qu’il me donna, de ma servitude, de mon métier de cuisinière, de mon capitaine bulgare, de mon vilain don Issachar, de mon abominable inquisiteur, de la pendaison du docteur Pangloss, de ce grand miserere en faux-bourdon pendant lequel on vous fessait, et surtout du baiser que je vous avais donné derrière un paravent, le jour que je vous avais vu pour la dernière fois. Je louai Dieu, qui vous ramenait à moi par tant d’épreuves. Je recommandai à ma vieille d’avoir soin de vous, et de vous amener ici dès qu’elle le pourrait. Elle a très bien exécuté ma commission; j’ai goûté le plaisir inexprimable de vous revoir, de vous entendre, de vous parler. Vous devez avoir une faim dévorante; j’ai grand appétit; commençons par souper.
Les voilà qui se mettent tous deux à table; et, après le souper, ils se replacent sur ce beau canapé dont on a déjà parlé; ils y étaient quand le signor don Issachar, l’un des maîtres de la maison, arriva. C’était le jour du sabbat. Il venait jouir de ses droits, et expliquer son tendre amour.
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.
Cunégonde’s Story.
“I was in bed, fast asleep, when heaven was pleased to send the Bulgarians into our beautiful castle of Thunder-ten-tronckh. They cut my father’s and brother’s throats and hacked my mother to pieces. A great Bulgarian, six feet tall, seeing that I had fainted at the sight, began to rape me. This brought me around; I recovered my senses, screamed, struggled, bit, scratched, and tried to tear out the great Bulgarian’s eyes, not knowing that everything happening in my father’s castle was customary practice. The brute stabbed me in the left side, and I still bear the scar.” “Alas! I very much hope to see it,” said the innocent Candide. “You shall,” said Cunégonde, “but let us go on.” “Go on,” said Candide.
She picked up the thread of her story. “A Bulgarian captain came in. He saw me covered in blood, and the soldier did not move aside. The captain grew angry at the scant respect this brute showed him and killed him on top of me. Then he had my wound dressed and took me as a prisoner of war to his quarters. I washed the few shirts he owned and cooked his meals. He found me very pretty, I must admit; and I will not deny that he was handsomely built and that his skin was white and soft. Otherwise, he had little wit and little philosophy: one could tell he had not been educated by Dr. Pangloss. After three months, having lost all his money and tired of me, he sold me to a Jew named Don Issachar, who traded in Holland and Portugal and had a passionate love of women. This Jew became very attached to me but could not prevail. I resisted him better than I had the Bulgarian soldier: a person of honor may be raped once, but her virtue is strengthened by it. To win me over, the Jew brought me to this country house you see. Until then I had believed there was nothing on earth so beautiful as the castle of Thunder-ten-tronckh. I learned my mistake.
“One day the Grand Inquisitor noticed me at Mass. He studied me intently and sent word that he had secret business to discuss with me. I was taken to his palace; I told him of my birth; he explained how far beneath my rank it was to belong to an Israelite. Don Issachar received a proposal on his behalf to surrender me to His Lordship. Don Issachar, banker to the court and a man of influence, would hear none of it. The inquisitor threatened him with an auto-da-fé. At last my frightened Jew made a bargain under which the house and I would belong to them both in common: the Jew would have Mondays, Wednesdays, and the Sabbath; the inquisitor, the other days of the week. This arrangement has lasted six months, not without quarrels, for it has often been uncertain whether Saturday night leading into Sunday belonged to the old law or the new. For my part, I have resisted them both until now; and I believe that is why I have always been loved.
“At last, to ward off the scourge of earthquakes and intimidate Don Issachar, His Lordship the inquisitor was pleased to hold an auto-da-fé. He did me the honor of inviting me. I was given an excellent seat; refreshments were served to the ladies between the Mass and the execution. I was indeed seized with horror at seeing the two Jews and that honest Biscayan who had married his child’s godmother burned. But imagine my surprise, my terror, my confusion, when I saw beneath a penitential robe and a miter a face that looked like Pangloss’s! I rubbed my eyes, looked closely, saw him hanged, and fainted. I had scarcely recovered my senses when I saw you stripped quite naked; that was the height of horror, consternation, pain, and despair. I can tell you truthfully that your skin is even whiter and a finer rosy color than that of my Bulgarian captain. The sight redoubled all the feelings that overwhelmed and consumed me. I cried out; I wanted to say, ‘Stop, you barbarians!’ But my voice failed, and my cries would have been useless. When you had been soundly whipped, I kept asking myself: ‘How can the dear Candide and the wise Pangloss be in Lisbon, one to receive a hundred lashes and the other to be hanged by order of His Lordship the inquisitor, whose beloved I am? Pangloss deceived me cruelly indeed when he said that all goes for the best in the world!’
“Distraught, bewildered, sometimes beside myself, sometimes ready to die of weakness, my head was full of the slaughter of my father, mother, and brother; the insolence of my ugly Bulgarian soldier and the stab he gave me; my servitude and my work as a cook; my Bulgarian captain; my repulsive Don Issachar; my abominable inquisitor; the hanging of Dr. Pangloss; that grand miserere sung in harmony while you were being whipped; and above all the kiss I gave you behind a screen on the last day I had seen you. I praised God for bringing you back to me through so many trials. I told my old woman to care for you and bring you here as soon as she could. She carried out my instructions perfectly. I have tasted the inexpressible pleasure of seeing you again, hearing you, speaking to you. You must be ravenous. I have a great appetite myself. Let us begin with supper.”
They both sat down to table; after supper they returned to the beautiful sofa already mentioned. They were there when Signor Don Issachar, one of the masters of the house, arrived. It was the Sabbath. He had come to enjoy his rights and declare his tender love.
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.
Cunégonde's Story.
I was in bed, fast asleep, when heaven decided to send the Bulgarians into our beautiful castle of Thunder-ten-tronckh. They cut my father's and brother's throats and cut my mother into pieces. A big Bulgarian, six feet tall, saw that I had fainted at the sight and began to rape me. That brought me around. I came to my senses, screamed, struggled, bit, and scratched. I tried to tear out the big Bulgarian's eyes, not knowing that everything happening in my father's castle was a customary thing. The brute stabbed me in the left side, and I still have the scar. “Oh! I certainly hope to see it,” said the innocent Candide. “You will,” said Cunégonde. “But let me go on.” “Go on,” said Candide.
She picked up her story again: “A Bulgarian captain came in. He saw me covered in blood, and the soldier did not even move aside. The captain was angry at the brute's lack of respect for him, and killed him on top of me. Then he had my wound dressed and took me as a prisoner of war to his quarters. I washed the few shirts he owned and cooked his meals. I must admit he found me very pretty. I won't deny that he was very well built and that his skin was white and soft. Apart from that, he had little intelligence and little philosophy. You could tell he had not been educated by Doctor Pangloss. After three months, he had lost all his money and grown tired of me, so he sold me to a Jew named don Issachar, who traded in Holland and Portugal and was passionately fond of women. This Jew became very attached to me, but he could not win me over. I resisted him better than I had resisted the Bulgarian soldier. A woman of honor can be raped once, but the experience strengthens her virtue. To tame me, the Jew brought me to the country house you see here. Until then I had thought that nothing on earth was as beautiful as the castle of Thunder-ten-tronckh. I found out I was wrong.
“One day the grand inquisitor noticed me at mass. He stared at me for a long time and sent word that he had to speak to me about secret matters. I was taken to his palace. I told him about my birth. He explained how far beneath my rank it was to belong to an Israelite. He sent don Issachar a proposal that he hand me over to his lordship. Don Issachar, who is the court's banker and a man of influence, refused. The inquisitor threatened him with an auto-da-fé. At last my frightened Jew made a deal: the house and I would belong to both of them together. The Jew would have Mondays, Wednesdays, and the Sabbath, while the inquisitor would have the other days of the week. This arrangement has lasted six months. There have been arguments, though, because it was often unclear whether Saturday night into Sunday belonged to the old law or the new one. For my part, I have resisted both men so far. I think that is why they have always loved me.
“At last, to ward off the plague of earthquakes and intimidate don Issachar, his lordship the inquisitor decided to hold an auto-da-fé. He did me the honor of inviting me. I had a very good seat. Refreshments were served to the ladies between the mass and the execution. It is true that I was horrified to see those two Jews and the decent man from Biscay who had married his child's godmother burned. But imagine my surprise, my fear, my distress when I saw a man who looked like Pangloss wearing a sanbenito and a pointed cap! I rubbed my eyes and looked carefully. I saw him hanged, and I fainted. I had barely come to when I saw you stripped completely naked. That was the height of horror, shock, pain, and despair. I can honestly tell you that your skin is even whiter and a lovelier shade of pink than that of my Bulgarian captain. The sight made all the feelings that weighed on me and consumed me twice as strong. I cried out and tried to say, ‘Stop, you barbarians!’ But I had no voice, and my cries would have done no good. After you had been thoroughly whipped, I kept asking myself, ‘How can dear Candide and wise Pangloss be in Lisbon, one to receive a hundred lashes and the other to be hanged on the orders of his lordship the inquisitor, whose beloved I am? Pangloss cruelly deceived me when he told me everything was for the best in the world!’
“Upset and beside myself, now scarcely in my right mind and now ready to faint and die, I could think only of the slaughter of my father, mother, and brother; the insolence of my ugly Bulgarian soldier; the knife wound he gave me; my captivity and my work as a cook; my Bulgarian captain; my ugly don Issachar; my dreadful inquisitor; the hanging of Doctor Pangloss; the great miserere sung in harmony while you were being whipped; and above all, the kiss I gave you behind a screen the last day I saw you. I praised God for bringing you back to me through so many trials. I told my old woman to take care of you and bring you here as soon as she could. She followed my instructions perfectly. Seeing you again, hearing you, and talking to you has given me more pleasure than I can express. You must be terribly hungry. I have a big appetite myself. Let's have supper first.”
The two of them sat down to eat. After supper they returned to the beautiful sofa already mentioned. They were on it when signor don Issachar, one of the owners of the house, arrived. It was the Sabbath. He had come to exercise his rights and declare his tender love.