Voltaire · Complete work
Chapter IX
Chapter IX of 30. Read it here for reference, or continue through the entire work without leaving the reader.
Open the complete readerOriginal French
Ce qui advint de Cunégonde, de Candide, du grand-inquisiteur, et d’un Juif.
Cet Issachar était le plus colérique Hébreu qu’on eût vu dans Israël, depuis la captivité en Babylone. Quoi! dit-il, chienne de galiléenne, ce n’est pas assez de monsieur l’inquisiteur? il faut que ce coquin partage aussi avec moi? En disant cela il tire un long poignard dont il était toujours pourvu, et, ne croyant pas que son adverse partie eût des armes, il se jette sur Candide; mais notre bon Vestphalien avait reçu une belle épée de la vieille avec l’habit complet. Il tire son épée, quoiqu’il eût les moeurs fort douces, et vous étend l’Israélite roide mort sur le carreau, aux pieds de la belle Cunégonde.
Sainte Vierge! s’écria-t-elle, qu’allons-nous devenir? un homme tué chez moi! si la justice vient, nous sommes perdus. Si Pangloss n’avait pas été pendu, dit Candide, il nous donnerait un bon conseil dans cette extrémité, car c’était un grand philosophe. A son défaut, consultons la vieille. Elle était fort prudente, et commençait à dire son avis quand une autre petite porte s’ouvrit. Il était une heure après minuit, c’était le commencement du dimanche. Ce jour appartenait à monseigneur l’inquisiteur. Il entre et voit le fessé Candide, l’épée à la main, un mort étendu par terre, Cunégonde effarée, et la vieille donnant des conseils.
Voici dans ce moment ce qui se passa dans l’âme de Candide, et comment il raisonna: Si ce saint homme appelle du secours, il me fera infailliblement brûler, il pourra en faire autant de Cunégonde; il m’a fait fouetter impitoyablement; il est mon rival; je suis en train de tuer; il n’y a pas à balancer. Ce raisonnement fut net et rapide; et, sans donner le temps à l’inquisiteur de revenir de sa surprise, il le perce d’outre en outre, et le jette à côté du Juif. En voici bien d’une autre, dit Cunégonde; il n’y a plus de rémission; nous sommes excommuniés, notre dernière heure est venue! Comment avez-vous fait, vous qui êtes né si doux, pour tuer en deux minutes un Juif et un prélat? Ma belle demoiselle, répondit Candide, quand on est amoureux, jaloux, et fouetté par l’inquisition, on ne se connaît plus.
La vieille prit alors la parole, et dit: Il y a trois chevaux andalous dans l’écurie, avec leurs selles et leurs brides, que le brave Candide les prépare; madame a des moyadors et des diamants, montons vite à cheval, quoique je ne puisse me tenir que sur une fesse, et allons à Cadix; il fait le plus beau temps du monde, et c’est un grand plaisir de voyager pendant la fraîcheur de la nuit.
Aussitôt Candide selle les trois chevaux; Cunégonde, la vieille, et lui, font trente milles d’une traite. Pendant qu’ils s’éloignaient, la sainte hermandad arrive dans la maison, on enterre monseigneur dans une belle église, on jette Issachar à la voirie.
Candide, Cunégonde, et la vieille, étaient déjà dans la petite ville d’Avacéna, au milieu des montagnes de la Sierra-Morena; et ils parlaient ainsi dans un cabaret.
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 Cunégonde, Candide, the Grand Inquisitor, and a Jew.
This Issachar was the most hot-tempered Hebrew seen in Israel since the Babylonian captivity. “What!” he said. “You Galilean bitch, is the inquisitor not enough for you? Must this scoundrel share you with me as well?” As he spoke, he drew a long dagger that he always carried and, not believing his adversary armed, sprang at Candide. But our good Westphalian had received a fine sword from the old woman along with his complete suit of clothes. He drew his sword, gentle as his nature was, and laid the Israelite out stone dead on the floor at the feet of the beautiful Cunégonde.
“Holy Virgin!” she exclaimed. “What will become of us? A man killed in my house! If the law comes here, we are lost.” “If Pangloss had not been hanged,” said Candide, “he would give us sound advice in this extremity, for he was a great philosopher. Since he cannot, let us consult the old woman.” She was very prudent, and had begun to offer her opinion when another little door opened. It was one o’clock after midnight, the beginning of Sunday. That day belonged to His Lordship the inquisitor. He came in and saw the whipped Candide, sword in hand; a corpse stretched on the floor; Cunégonde in dismay; and the old woman giving advice.
Here is what passed through Candide’s soul at that moment and how he reasoned: “If this holy man calls for help, he will infallibly have me burned, and he may do the same to Cunégonde. He had me whipped without mercy. He is my rival. I have begun killing. There is no room for hesitation.” His reasoning was clear and swift; before the inquisitor could recover from his surprise, Candide ran him through and threw him down beside the Jew. “Now this is another matter entirely,” said Cunégonde. “There can be no pardon now. We are excommunicated; our last hour has come! How did you, born so gentle, manage to kill a Jew and a prelate in two minutes?” “My beautiful young lady,” replied Candide, “when a man is in love, jealous, and whipped by the Inquisition, he is no longer himself.”
The old woman then spoke: “There are three Andalusian horses in the stable, saddles and bridles included. Let the brave Candide prepare them. Madame has moidores and diamonds. Let us mount quickly and go to Cádiz, though I can sit on only one buttock. The weather could not be finer, and it is a great pleasure to travel in the cool of the night.”
Candide at once saddled the three horses; Cunégonde, the old woman, and he rode thirty miles without stopping. As they were making their escape, the Holy Brotherhood arrived at the house. His Lordship was buried in a fine church; Issachar was thrown on the refuse heap.
Candide, Cunégonde, and the old woman had already reached the little town of Avacéna, among the Sierra-Morena mountains, and were speaking together in an inn.
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 Cunégonde, Candide, the Grand Inquisitor, and a Jew.
This Issachar was the most hot-tempered Hebrew anyone had seen in Israel since the captivity in Babylon. “What!” he said. “You Galilean bitch, isn't the inquisitor enough for you? Does this scoundrel have to share you with me too?” As he spoke, he pulled out a long dagger that he always carried. Believing his opponent was unarmed, he rushed at Candide. But our good Westphalian had received a fine sword from the old woman along with his complete outfit. Though he was a very gentle man, he drew his sword and struck the Israelite dead on the floor at the feet of beautiful Cunégonde.
“Holy Virgin!” she cried. “What will become of us? A man killed in my house! If the law comes, we're done for.” “If Pangloss hadn't been hanged,” said Candide, “he would give us good advice in this emergency. He was a great philosopher. Since he isn't here, let's ask the old woman.” She was very sensible and had begun to give her opinion when another little door opened. It was one in the morning, the beginning of Sunday. This day belonged to his lordship the inquisitor. He came in and saw Candide, the man who had been whipped, holding a sword; a dead man lying on the floor; Cunégonde in a panic; and the old woman giving advice.
Here is what went through Candide's mind at that moment: “If this holy man calls for help, he will certainly have me burned, and he might do the same to Cunégonde. He had me whipped without mercy. He is my rival. I've already started killing. There's no time to hesitate.” He thought it through clearly and quickly. Before the inquisitor could recover from his surprise, Candide ran him right through and threw him down beside the Jew. “Now this is worse,” said Cunégonde. “There's no chance of a pardon. We're excommunicated. Our last hour has come! How could you, born so gentle, kill a Jew and a high church official in two minutes?” “My beautiful lady,” Candide replied, “when you're in love, jealous, and have been whipped by the Inquisition, you don't know yourself anymore.”
Then the old woman spoke. “There are three Andalusian horses in the stable, with saddles and bridles. Let brave Candide get them ready. Madam has gold coins and diamonds. Let's get on the horses at once, even though I can only sit on one buttock, and go to Cadiz. The weather is beautiful, and traveling in the cool of the night is a great pleasure.”
Candide immediately saddled the three horses. Cunégonde, the old woman, and he rode thirty miles without stopping. While they were riding away, the Holy Brotherhood arrived at the house. They buried his lordship in a beautiful church and dumped Issachar at the refuse heap.
Candide, Cunégonde, and the old woman had already reached the little town of Avacéna, in the middle of the Sierra-Morena mountains. They spoke as follows at an inn.