Chapter 20: The Hermit
Original French
L'ermite.
Il rencontra en marchant un ermite, dont la barbe blanche et vénérable lui descendait jusqu'à la ceinture. Il tenait en main un livre qu'il lisait attentivement. Zadig s'arrêta, et lui fit une profonde inclination. L'ermite le salua d'un air si noble et si doux, que Zadig eut la curiosité de l'entretenir. Il lui demanda quel livre il lisait. C'est le livre des destinées, dit l'ermite; voulez-vous en lire quelque chose? Il mit le livre dans les mains de Zadig, qui, tout instruit qu'il était dans plusieurs langues, ne put déchiffrer un seul caractère du livre. Cela redoubla encore sa curiosité. Vous me paraissez bien chagrin, lui dit ce bon père. Hélas! que j'en ai sujet! dit Zadig. Si vous permettez que je vous accompagne, repartit le vieillard, peut-être vous serai-je utile: j'ai quelquefois répandu des sentiments de consolation dans l'âme des malheureux. Zadig se sentit du respect pour l'air, pour la barbe, et pour le livre de l'ermite. Il lui trouva dans la conversation des lumières supérieures. L'ermite parlait de la destinée, de la justice, de la morale, du souverain bien, de la faiblesse humaine, des vertus, et des vices, avec une éloquence si vive et si touchante, que Zadig se sentit entraîné vers lui par un charme invincible.Il le pria avec instance de ne le point quitter, jusqu'à ce qu'ils fussent de retour à Babylone. Je vous demande moi-même cette grâce, lui dit le vieillard; jurez-moi par Orosmade que vous ne vous séparerez point de moi d'ici à quelques jours, quelque chose que je fasse. Zadig jura, et ils partirent ensemble.
Les deux voyageurs arrivèrent le soir à un château superbe. L'ermite demanda l'hospitalité pour lui et pour le jeune homme qui l'accompagnait. Le portier, qu'on aurait pris pour un grand seigneur, les introduisit avec une espèce de bonté dédaigneuse. On les présenta à un principal domestique, qui leur fit voir les appartements magnifiques du maître. Ils furent admis à sa table au bas bout, sans que le seigneur du château les honorât d'un regard; mais ils furent servis comme les autres avec délicatesse et profusion. On leur donna ensuite à laver dans un bassin d'or garni d'émeraudes et de rubis. On les mena coucher dans un bel appartement, et le lendemain matin un domestique leur apporta à chacun une pièce d'or, après quoi on les congédia.
Le maître de la maison, dit Zadig en chemin, me paraît être un homme généreux, quoique un peu fier; il exerce noblement l'hospitalité. En disant ces paroles, il aperçut qu'une espèce de poche très large que portait l'ermite paraissait tendue et enflée: il y vit le bassin d'or garni de pierreries, que celui-ci avait volé. Il n'osa d'abord en rien témoigner; mais il était dans une étrange surprise.
Vers le midi, l'ermite se présenta à la porte d'une maison très petite, où logeait un riche avare; il y demanda l'hospitalité pour quelques heures. Un vieux valet mal habillé le reçut d'un ton rude, et fit entrer l'ermite et Zadig dans l'écurie, où on leur donna quelques olives pourries, de mauvais pain, et de la bière gâtée. L'ermite but et mangea d'un air aussi content que la veille; puis s'adressant à ce vieux valet qui les observait tous deux pour voir s'ils ne volaient rien, et qui les pressait de partir, il lui donna les deux pièces d'or qu'il avait reçues le matin, et le remercia de toutes ses attentions. Je vous prie, ajouta-t-il, faites-moi parler à votre maître. Le valet étonné introduisit les deux voyageurs: Magnifique seigneur, dit l'ermite, je ne puis que vous rendre de très humbles grâces de la manière noble dont vous nous avez reçus: daignez accepter ce bassin d'or comme un faible gage de ma reconnaissance. L'avare fut près de tomber à la renverse. L'ermite ne lui donna pas le temps de revenir de son saisissement, il partit au plus vite avec son jeune voyageur. Mon père, lui dit Zadig, qu'est-ce que tout ce que je vois? Vous ne me paraissez ressembler en rien aux autres hommes: vous volez un bassin d'or garni de pierreries à un seigneur qui vous reçoit magnifiquement, et vous le donnez à un avare, qui vous traite avec indignité. Mon fils, répondit le vieillard, cet homme magnifique, qui ne reçoit les étrangers que par vanité, et pour faire admirer ses richesses, deviendra plus sage; l'avare apprendra à exercer l'hospitalité: ne vous étonnez de rien, et suivez-moi. Zadig ne savait encore s'il avait affaire au plus fou ou au plus sage de tous les hommes; mais l'ermite parlait avec tant d'ascendant, que Zadig, lié d'ailleurs par son serment, ne put s'empêcher de le suivre.
Ils arrivèrent le soir à une maison agréablement bâtie, mais simple, où rien ne sentait ni la prodigalité ni l'avarice. Le maître était un philosophe retiré du monde, qui cultivait en paix la sagesse et la vertu, et qui cependant ne s'ennuyait pas. Il s'était plu à bâtir cette retraite dans laquelle il recevait les étrangers avec une noblesse qui n'avait rien de l'ostentation. Il alla lui-même au-devant des deux voyageurs, qu'il fit reposer d'abord dans un appartement commode. Quelque temps après, il les vint prendre lui-même pour les inviter à un repas propre et bien entendu, pendant lequel il parla avec discrétion des dernières révolutions de Babylone. Il parut sincèrement attaché à la reine, et souhaita que Zadig eût paru dans la lice pour disputer la couronne; mais les hommes, ajouta-t-il, ne méritent pas d'avoir un roi comme Zadig. Celui-ci rougissait, et sentait redoubler ses douleurs. On convint dans la conversation que les choses de ce monde n'allaient pas toujours au gré des plus sages. L'ermite soutint toujours qu'on ne connaissait pas les voies de la Providence, et que les hommes avaient tort de juger d'un tout dont ils n'apercevaient que la plus petite partie.
On parla des passions. Ah! qu'elles sont funestes! disait Zadig. Ce sont les vents qui enflent les voiles du vaisseau, repartit l'ermite: elles le submergent quelquefois; mais sans elles il ne pourrait voguer. La bile rend colère et malade; mais sans la bile l'homme ne saurait vivre. Tout est dangereux ici-bas, et tout est nécessaire.
On parla de plaisir, et l'ermite prouva que c'est un présent de la Divinité; car, dit-il, l'homme ne peut se donner ni sensation ni idées, il reçoit tout; la peine et le plaisir lui viennent d'ailleurs comme son être.
Zadig admirait comment un homme qui avait fait des choses si extravagantes pouvait raisonner si bien. Enfin, après un entretien aussi instructif qu'agréable, l'hôte reconduisit ses deux voyageurs dans leur appartement, en bénissant le ciel qui lui avait envoyé deux hommes si sages et si vertueux. Il leur offrit de l'argent d'une manière aisée et noble qui ne pouvait déplaire. L'ermite le refusa, et lui dit qu'il prenait congé de lui, comptant partir pour Babylone avant le jour. Leur séparation fut tendre, Zadig surtout se sentait plein d'estime et d'inclination pour un homme si aimable.
Quand l'ermite et lui furent dans leur appartement, ils firent long-temps l'éloge de leur hôte. Le vieillard au point du jour éveilla son camarade. Il faut partir, dit-il; mais tandis que tout le monde dort encore, je veux laisser à cet homme un témoignage de mon estime et de mon affection. En disant ces mots, il prit un flambeau, et mit le feu à la maison. Zadig épouvanté jeta des cris, et voulut l'empêcher de commettre une action si affreuse. L'ermite l'entraînait par une force supérieure; la maison était enflammée. L'ermite, qui était déjà assez loin avec son compagnon, la regardait brûler tranquillement. Dieu merci! dit-il, voilà la maison de mon cher hôte détruite de fond en comble! L'heureux homme! A ces mots Zadig fut tenté à-la-fois d'éclater de rire, de dire des injures au révérend père, de le battre, et de s'enfuir; mais il ne fit rien de tout cela, et toujours subjugué par l'ascendant de l'ermite, il le suivit malgré lui à la dernière couchée.
Ce fut chez une veuve charitable et vertueuse qui avait un neveu de quatorze ans, plein d'agréments et son unique espérance. Elle fit du mieux qu'elle put les honneurs de sa maison. Le lendemain, elle ordonna à son neveu d'accompagner les voyageurs jusqu'à un pont qui, étant rompu depuis peu, était devenu un passage dangereux. Le jeune homme empressé marche au-devant d'eux. Quand ils furent sur le pont: Venez, dit l'ermite au jeune homme, il faut que je marque ma reconnaissance à votre tante. Il le prend alors par les cheveux, et le jette dans la rivière. L'enfant tombe, reparaît un moment sur l'eau, et est engouffré dans le torrent. O monstre! ô le plus scélérat de tous les hommes! s'écria Zadig. Vous m'aviez promis plus de patience, lui dit l'ermite en l'interrompant: apprenez que sous les ruines de cette maison où la Providence a mis le feu, le maître a trouvé un trésor immense: apprenez que ce jeune homme dont la Providence a tordu le cou aurait assassiné sa tante dans un an, et vous dans deux. Qui te l'a dit, barbare? cria Zadig; et quand tu aurais lu cet événement dans ton livre des destinées, t'est-il permis de noyer un enfant qui ne t'a point fait de mal?
Tandis que le Babylonien parlait, il aperçut que le vieillard n'avait plus de barbe, que son visage prenait les traits de la jeunesse. Son habit d'ermite disparut; quatre belles ailes couvraient un corps majestueux et resplendissant de lumière. O envoyé du ciel! ô ange divin! s'écria Zadig en se prosternant, tu es donc descendu de l'empyrée pour apprendre à un faible mortel à se soumettre aux ordres éternels? Les hommes, dit l'ange Jesrad, jugent de tout sans rien connaître: tu étais celui de tous les hommes qui méritait le plus d'être éclairé. Zadig lui demanda la permission de parler. Je me défie de moi-même, dit-il; mais oserai-je te prier de m'éclaircir un doute: ne vaudrait-il pas mieux avoir corrigé cet enfant, et l'avoir rendu vertueux, que de le noyer? Jesrad reprit: S'il avait été vertueux, et s'il eût vécu, son destin était d'être assassiné lui-même avec la femme qu'il devait épouser, et le fils qui en devait naître. Mais quoi! dit Zadig, il est donc nécessaire qu'il y ait des crimes et des malheurs? et les malheurs tombent sur les gens de bien! Les méchants, répondit Jesrad, sont toujours malheureux: ils servent à éprouver un petit nombre de justes répandus sur la terre, et il n'y a point de mal dont il ne naisse un bien. Mais, dit Zadig, s'il n'y avait que du bien, et point de mal? Alors, reprit Jesrad, cette terre serait une autre terre, l'enchaînement des événements serait un autre ordre de sagesse; et cet ordre, qui serait parfait, ne peut être que dans la demeure éternelle de l'Être suprême, de qui le mal ne peut approcher. Il a créé des millions de mondes, dont aucun ne peut ressembler à l'autre. Cette immense variété est un attribut de sa puissance immense. Il n'y a ni deux feuilles d'arbre sur la terre, ni deux globes dans les champs infinis du ciel, qui soient semblables, et tout ce que tu vois sur le petit atome où tu es né devait être dans sa place et dans son temps fixe, selon les ordres immuables de celui qui embrasse tout. Les hommes pensent que cet enfant qui vient de périr est tombé dans l'eau par hasard, que c'est par un même hasard que cette maison est brûlée: mais il n'y a point de hasard; tout est épreuve, ou punition, ou récompense, ou prévoyance. Souviens-toi de ce pêcheur qui se croyait le plus malheureux de tous les hommes. Orosmade t'a envoyé pour changer sa destinée. Faible mortel! cesse de disputer contre ce qu'il faut adorer. Mais, dit Zadig.... Comme il disait mais, l'ange prenait déjà son vol vers la dixième sphère. Zadig à genoux adora la Providence, et se soumit. L'ange lui cria du haut des airs: Prends ton chemin vers Babylone.
Musean translation
Complete machine-assisted Musean translation made directly from Voltaire’s French in Beuchot’s 1829 edition: Approbation, dedicatory epistle and all twenty-one chapters, including The Dance and Blue Eyes. Voltaire’s notes are retained; later editors’ notes are omitted. Source-language review is recorded with the source witness.
The Hermit.
As he walked, he met a hermit whose venerable white beard reached down to his waist. In his hand he held a book, which he was reading attentively. Zadig stopped and bowed deeply. The hermit greeted him with such noble gentleness that Zadig was curious to speak with him. He asked what book he was reading. "It is the book of destinies," said the hermit. "Would you like to read a little?" He put the book into Zadig's hands; but for all his knowledge of many languages, Zadig could not decipher a single character. This only redoubled his curiosity. "You seem very sorrowful," the good father said. "Alas, I have reason enough!" said Zadig. "If you allow me to accompany you," the old man replied, "perhaps I may be of use. I have sometimes brought consolation to the souls of the unfortunate." Zadig felt respect for the hermit's bearing, his beard, and his book. In conversation he found him possessed of superior insight. The hermit spoke of destiny, justice, morality, the highest good, human weakness, virtues, and vices with such vivid and moving eloquence that Zadig felt drawn to him by an irresistible charm. He earnestly begged him not to leave him until they had returned to Babylon. "That is the very favor I ask of you," said the old man. "Swear to me by Orosmade that you will not part from me for the next few days, whatever I may do." Zadig swore, and they set out together.
That evening the two travelers reached a splendid castle. The hermit asked for hospitality for himself and the young man accompanying him. The porter, whom one might have taken for a great lord, admitted them with a sort of disdainful kindness. They were presented to a senior servant, who showed them his master's magnificent rooms. They were admitted to the lower end of his table, without the lord of the castle honoring them with a glance; but they were served as lavishly and exquisitely as the others. Afterward they were given water to wash in a golden basin set with emeralds and rubies. They were taken to sleep in a handsome apartment, and the next morning a servant brought each of them a gold piece, after which they were dismissed.
"The master of the house," Zadig said along the way, "seems a generous man, though a little proud. He practices hospitality nobly." As he spoke, he noticed that a very large pouch the hermit carried seemed stretched and swollen. Inside he saw the golden basin set with precious stones, which the hermit had stolen. At first he did not dare show any sign of it, but he was astonished beyond measure.
Toward noon the hermit appeared at the door of a very small house inhabited by a rich miser and asked for a few hours' hospitality. An ill-dressed old servant received him roughly and ushered him and Zadig into the stable, where they were given some rotten olives, bad bread, and spoiled beer. The hermit ate and drank as contentedly as the evening before. Then, addressing the old servant, who was watching them both to see that they stole nothing and urging them to leave, he gave him the two gold pieces he had received that morning and thanked him for all his attentions. "Please," he added, "let me speak with your master." The astonished servant introduced the two travelers. "Magnificent lord," said the hermit, "I can only thank you most humbly for the noble manner in which you have received us. Please accept this golden basin as a small token of my gratitude." The miser almost fell backward. Giving him no time to recover from his amazement, the hermit hurried away with his young companion. "Father," said Zadig, "what am I witnessing? You seem unlike any other man: you steal a golden basin set with precious stones from a lord who receives you magnificently, and give it to a miser who treats you shamefully." "My son," the old man answered, "that magnificent man, who receives strangers only out of vanity and to make them admire his wealth, will grow wiser; the miser will learn to offer hospitality. Be astonished at nothing, and follow me." Zadig still did not know whether he was dealing with the maddest or the wisest of men; but the hermit spoke with such authority that Zadig, bound by his oath as well, could not help following him.
That evening they reached a pleasantly built but simple house, with nothing suggestive of either extravagance or avarice. Its master was a philosopher who had withdrawn from the world and peacefully cultivated wisdom and virtue, yet did not grow bored. He had taken pleasure in building this retreat, where he received strangers with a nobility entirely free of ostentation. He himself came to meet the two travelers and first let them rest in a comfortable room. A little later he came himself to invite them to a neatly served and well-planned meal, during which he spoke discreetly of the recent upheavals in Babylon. He seemed sincerely devoted to the queen and wished Zadig had appeared in the tournament to contest the crown. "But men," he added, "do not deserve a king like Zadig." Zadig blushed, and felt his sorrows redouble. In conversation they agreed that the affairs of this world did not always go as the wisest would wish. The hermit maintained throughout that the ways of Providence were unknown, and that men were wrong to judge a whole of which they perceived only the smallest part.
They spoke of the passions. "Ah, how destructive they are!" said Zadig. "They are the winds that fill a ship's sails," the hermit replied. "Sometimes they sink it; but without them it could not sail. Bile makes us angry and ill; yet without bile a man could not live. Everything here below is dangerous, and everything is necessary."
They spoke of pleasure, and the hermit proved that it was a gift of the Divinity. "For," he said, "a man can give himself neither sensations nor ideas: he receives everything. Pain and pleasure come to him from elsewhere, as does his very being."
Zadig marveled that a man who had done such extravagant things could reason so well. At last, after a conversation as instructive as it was pleasant, their host escorted his two travelers back to their room, blessing heaven for sending him two men so wise and virtuous. He offered them money with an ease and nobility that could give no offense. The hermit refused and took his leave, saying he intended to set out for Babylon before daybreak. Their parting was affectionate; Zadig in particular felt full of esteem and affection for so lovable a man.
Once in their room, he and the hermit spent a long time praising their host. At daybreak the old man woke his companion. "We must leave," he said, "but while everyone is still asleep, I want to leave this man a token of my esteem and affection." With these words he took a torch and set the house on fire. Horrified, Zadig cried out and tried to prevent so dreadful a deed. The hermit dragged him away with superior strength; the house was ablaze. Already some distance off with his companion, the hermit watched it burn calmly. "Thank God!" he said. "There is my dear host's house destroyed from top to bottom! The fortunate man!" At these words Zadig was tempted all at once to burst out laughing, abuse the reverend father, beat him, and run away. He did none of these things, but still subdued by the hermit's authority, followed him against his will to their last night's lodging.
It was the home of a charitable and virtuous widow, whose fourteen-year-old nephew, a charming boy, was her only hope. She did the honors of her house as well as she could. The next day she told her nephew to accompany the travelers as far as a bridge which, having recently been damaged, had become a dangerous crossing. The eager boy walks ahead of them. Once they are on the bridge, the hermit says to him, "Come here. I must show my gratitude to your aunt." He seizes him by the hair and throws him into the river. The child falls, appears for a moment on the water, and is swallowed by the torrent. "Monster! Most wicked of all men!" Zadig cried. "You promised me more patience," the hermit interrupted. "Know that beneath the ruins of the house Providence set on fire, its master has found an immense treasure. Know that the boy whose neck Providence has wrung would have murdered his aunt in a year and you in two." "Who told you that, barbarian?" Zadig cried. "And even if you had read this event in your book of destinies, does that give you the right to drown a child who has done you no harm?"
As the Babylonian spoke, he saw that the old man no longer had a beard, and that his face was taking on the features of youth. His hermit's robe vanished; four beautiful wings covered a majestic body radiant with light. "Messenger of heaven! Divine angel!" Zadig cried, falling to the ground. "Have you descended from the highest heaven to teach a feeble mortal to submit to eternal decrees?" "Men," said the angel Jesrad, "judge everything without knowing anything. Of all men, you most deserved enlightenment." Zadig asked leave to speak. "I distrust myself," he said, "but may I dare ask you to resolve a doubt? Would it not have been better to correct this child and make him virtuous than to drown him?" Jesrad answered, "Had he been virtuous and lived, his destiny was to be murdered himself, along with the woman he would marry and the son born of their union." "What!" said Zadig. "Must there necessarily be crimes and misfortunes, and must misfortunes fall on good people?" "The wicked," Jesrad replied, "are always unhappy. They serve to test the small number of the just scattered over the earth; and there is no evil from which some good does not arise." "But," said Zadig, "what if there were only good and no evil?" "Then," Jesrad answered, "this earth would be another earth, the chain of events would be another order of wisdom; and such an order, which would be perfect, can exist only in the eternal dwelling of the Supreme Being, whom evil cannot approach. He has created millions of worlds, none of which can resemble another. This immense variety is an attribute of his immense power. There are no two leaves on earth, no two globes in the infinite fields of heaven, that are alike; and everything you see on the little atom where you were born had to occupy its place at its appointed time, according to the immutable decrees of the one who embraces all. Men think the child who has just died fell into the water by chance, and that the same chance burned down that house. But there is no chance: everything is a trial, a punishment, a reward, or a precaution. Remember the fisherman who thought himself the most unfortunate of men. Orosmade sent you to change his destiny. Feeble mortal! Stop disputing what you must adore." "But," said Zadig… As he was saying but, the angel was already taking flight toward the tenth sphere. Kneeling, Zadig adored Providence and submitted. From high in the air the angel called to him, "Take the road to Babylon."
Plain English translation
Complete machine-assisted Plain English translation made independently and directly from the French, in separate source-only translation tasks, not from the Musean edition or a published English translation. Same complete scope and author’s notes; later editors’ notes are omitted. Source-language review is recorded with the source witness.
The Hermit.
As he walked, he met a hermit whose venerable white beard reached his waist. He held a book in his hand and was reading it closely. Zadig stopped and bowed deeply. The hermit greeted him with such dignity and kindness that Zadig wanted to talk to him. He asked what book he was reading. "It's the book of destinies," the hermit said. "Would you like to read some of it?" He put the book in Zadig's hands. Though Zadig knew several languages, he couldn't make out a single character in the book. This made him even more curious. "You seem very sad," the good father told him. "Sadly, I have every reason to be," Zadig said. "If you'll let me travel with you," the old man replied, "perhaps I can help you. I've sometimes brought comfort to unhappy hearts." Zadig felt respect for the hermit's manner, his beard, and his book. In conversation, he found him extraordinarily wise. The hermit spoke about fate, justice, morality, the highest good, human weakness, virtues, and vices with such lively and moving eloquence that Zadig felt irresistibly drawn to him. He begged him not to leave him until they were back in Babylon. "That's the very favor I ask of you," the old man said. "Swear to me by Orosmade that for the next few days you won't leave me, whatever I do." Zadig swore, and they set off together.
That evening, the two travelers reached a splendid castle. The hermit asked for lodging for himself and the young man with him. The doorkeeper, who could have passed for a great lord, let them in with a sort of condescending kindness. They were presented to a senior servant, who showed them his master's magnificent rooms. They were admitted to the lower end of his table. The lord of the castle didn't honor them with a glance, but they were served the same fine food in the same abundance as everyone else. Afterward, they were given water to wash in a gold basin set with emeralds and rubies. They were taken to sleep in a beautiful room. The next morning, a servant brought each of them a gold coin, and then they were sent on their way.
"The master of that house seems generous to me, though a little proud," Zadig said as they walked. "He offers hospitality in a noble way." As he spoke, he noticed that a sort of very large pocket the hermit wore seemed stretched and swollen. Inside it he saw the gold basin set with jewels, which the hermit had stolen. At first, he didn't dare show that he had noticed, but he was extremely surprised.
Around noon, the hermit went to the door of a very small house where a rich miser lived. He asked for a few hours' hospitality. An old servant in shabby clothes greeted him rudely and showed him and Zadig into the stable. There they were given some rotten olives, bad bread, and spoiled beer. The hermit ate and drank as contentedly as he had the day before. The old servant watched them both to make sure they stole nothing and urged them to leave. The hermit turned to him, gave him the two gold coins he had received that morning, and thanked him for all his care. "Please," he added, "let me speak to your master." Astonished, the servant showed the two travelers in. "Magnificent sir," the hermit said, "I can only thank you most humbly for the noble way you've welcomed us. Please accept this gold basin as a small token of my gratitude." The miser nearly fell over backward. The hermit gave him no time to recover from his amazement. He left as quickly as possible with his young companion. "Father," Zadig said, "what does all this mean? You don't seem like other people at all. You steal a gold basin set with jewels from a lord who receives you magnificently, and give it to a miser who treats you shamefully." "My son," the old man answered, "that magnificent man, who only welcomes strangers out of vanity and to make them admire his wealth, will grow wiser. The miser will learn to offer hospitality. Don't be surprised at anything. Follow me." Zadig still didn't know whether he was dealing with the maddest or the wisest man alive. But the hermit spoke with such authority that Zadig couldn't help following him, bound as he also was by his oath.
That evening, they reached a pleasantly built but simple house, with no sign of either extravagance or stinginess. Its owner was a philosopher who had withdrawn from the world. He peacefully cultivated wisdom and virtue, yet wasn't bored. He had enjoyed building this retreat, where he welcomed strangers with dignity and without any showiness. He came out himself to meet the two travelers and first let them rest in a comfortable room. A little later, he came himself to invite them to a well-planned, neatly served meal. During it, he spoke discreetly about the recent upheavals in Babylon. He seemed sincerely devoted to the queen and wished Zadig had appeared on the tournament ground to compete for the crown. "But people," he added, "don't deserve a king like Zadig." Zadig blushed and felt his grief grow sharper. In conversation, they agreed that things in this world didn't always go as the wisest people would like. The hermit kept insisting that no one understood the ways of Providence, and that people were wrong to judge a whole when they could see only the tiniest part of it.
They discussed the passions. "Oh, how destructive they are!" Zadig said. "They're the winds that fill a ship's sails," the hermit replied. "Sometimes they sink it, but without them it couldn't sail. Bile makes people angry and sick, but without bile no one could live. Everything down here is dangerous, and everything is necessary."
They discussed pleasure, and the hermit proved it was a gift from God. "For," he said, "a person can't give himself either sensations or ideas. He receives everything. Pain and pleasure come to him from elsewhere, just as his existence does."
Zadig marveled that a man who had done such outrageous things could reason so well. At last, after a conversation as instructive as it was pleasant, their host took the two travelers back to their room. He blessed heaven for sending him two such wise and virtuous men. He offered them money with an easy dignity that couldn't offend them. The hermit refused it and said goodbye, explaining that he planned to leave for Babylon before daylight. They parted warmly. Zadig in particular felt full of respect and affection for such a charming man.
Once the hermit and Zadig were in their room, they spent a long time praising their host. At dawn, the old man woke his companion. "We must leave," he said. "But while everyone is still asleep, I want to leave this man a token of my respect and affection." As he spoke, he took a torch and set the house on fire. Horrified, Zadig cried out and tried to stop him from doing such a terrible thing. The hermit dragged him away with superior strength. The house was in flames. Already far off with his companion, the hermit calmly watched it burn. "Thank God!" he said. "Now my dear host's house has been destroyed from top to bottom. What a lucky man!" At these words, Zadig wanted all at once to burst out laughing, insult the reverend father, beat him, and run away. But he did none of these things. Still overpowered by the hermit's authority, he followed him against his will to their last night's lodging.
They stayed with a charitable, virtuous widow. She had a nephew of fourteen, a charming boy who was her only hope. She did her best to make them welcome in her house. The next day, she told her nephew to accompany the travelers as far as a bridge. It had recently been damaged and had become dangerous to cross. The eager boy walked ahead of them. When they reached the bridge, the hermit told the boy, "Come here. I must show my gratitude to your aunt." Then he seized him by the hair and threw him into the river. The child fell, appeared again for a moment on the surface, and was swallowed by the current. "You monster! You most wicked of men!" Zadig cried. "You promised me more patience," the hermit interrupted. "Understand that beneath the ruins of the house Providence set on fire, its owner found an immense treasure. Understand that this boy, whose neck Providence has broken, would have murdered his aunt in a year and you in two." "Who told you that, you barbarian?" Zadig cried. "Even if you had read this event in your book of destinies, does that give you the right to drown a child who has done you no harm?"
As the Babylonian spoke, he saw that the old man no longer had a beard and that his face was taking on the features of youth. His hermit's clothes disappeared. Four beautiful wings covered a majestic body shining with light. "Oh, messenger from heaven! Divine angel!" Zadig cried, throwing himself to the ground. "Have you come down from the highest heaven to teach a weak mortal to submit to eternal commands?" "People judge everything without knowing anything," the angel Jesrad said. "Of all people, you were the one who most deserved to be enlightened." Zadig asked permission to speak. "I don't trust my own judgment," he said. "But may I ask you to clear up a doubt? Wouldn't it have been better to reform that child and make him virtuous than to drown him?" Jesrad replied, "If he had been virtuous and had lived, his destiny was to be murdered himself, along with the woman he was to marry and the son who was to be born to them." "But wait!" Zadig said. "Must there be crimes and misfortunes, then? And misfortunes fall on good people!" "The wicked are always unhappy," Jesrad answered. "They serve to test the small number of good people scattered across the earth. There is no evil that doesn't produce some good." "But," Zadig said, "what if there were only good and no evil?" "Then," Jesrad replied, "this earth would be a different earth. The chain of events would follow a different wise order. And that order, which would be perfect, can exist only in the eternal home of the Supreme Being, whom evil cannot approach. He has created millions of worlds, none of which can resemble another. This immense variety is an attribute of his immense power. No two leaves on earth, and no two globes in the infinite reaches of the sky, are alike. Everything you see on the tiny atom where you were born had to exist in its own place and at its fixed time, according to the unchanging commands of the one who holds everything within his reach. People think the child who has just died fell into the water by chance, and that the same kind of chance burned that house down. But there is no chance. Everything is a test, a punishment, a reward, or a precaution. Remember that fisherman who thought himself the unhappiest man alive. Orosmade sent you to change his fate. Weak mortal! Stop arguing against what you must worship." "But," Zadig said… As he was saying but, the angel was already flying toward the tenth sphere. On his knees, Zadig worshiped Providence and submitted. From high in the air, the angel called to him, "Take the road to Babylon."
About this section
Chapter 20: The Hermit is part of Zadig, or Destiny by Voltaire. This page sets the French original beside 2 direct-source translations, so any line can be checked against the source. It is chapter 22 of 23 in the work, which is kept in the European tradition.
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