A modern assailant of optimism would arm himself with social pity. There is no social pity in "Candide." Voltaire, whose light touch on familiar institutions opens them and reveals their absurdity, likes to remind us that the slaughter and pillage and murder which Candide witnessed among the Bulgarians was perfectly regular, having been conducted according to the laws and usages of war. Had Voltaire lived to-day he would have done to poverty what he did to war. Pitying the poor, he would have shown us poverty as a ridiculous anachronism, and both the ridicule and the pity would have expressed his indignation.
Almost any modern, essaying a philosophic tale, would make it long. "Candide" is only a "Hamlet" and a half long. It would hardly have been shorter if Voltaire had spent three months on it, instead of those three days. A conciseness to be matched in English by nobody except Pope, who can say a plagiarizing enemy "steals much, spends little, and has nothing left," a conciseness which Pope toiled and sweated for, came as easy as wit to Voltaire. He can afford to be witty, parenthetically, by the way, prodigally, without saving, because he knows there is more wit where that came from.
One of Max Beerbohm's cartoons shows us the young Twentieth Century going at top speed, and watched by two of his predecessors. Underneath is this legend: "The Grave Misgivings of the Nineteenth Century, and the Wicked Amusement of the Eighteenth, in Watching the Progress (or whatever it is) of the Twentieth." This Eighteenth Century snuff-taking and malicious, is like Voltaire, who nevertheless must know, if he happens to think of it, that not yet in the Twentieth Century, not for all its speed mania, has any one come near to equalling the speed of a prose tale by Voltaire. "Candide" is a full book. It is filled with mockery, with inventiveness, with things as concrete as things to eat and coins, it has time for the neatest intellectual clickings, it is never hurried, and it moves with the most amazing rapidity. It has the rapidity of high spirits playing a game. The dry high spirits of this destroyer of optimism make most optimists look damp and depressed. Contemplation of the stupidity which deems happiness possible almost made Voltaire happy. His attack on optimism is one of the gayest books in the world. Gaiety has been scattered everywhere up and down its pages by Voltaire's lavish hand, by his thin fingers.
Many propagandist satirical books have been written with "Candide" in mind, but not too many. To-day, especially, when new faiths are changing the structure of the world, faiths which are still plastic enough to be deformed by every disciple, each disciple for himself, and which have not yet received the final deformation known as universal acceptance, to-day "Candide" is an inspiration to every narrative satirist who hates one of these new faiths, or hates every interpretation of it but his own. Either hatred will serve as a motive to satire.
That is why the present is one of the right moments to republish "Candide." I hope it will inspire younger men and women, the only ones who can be inspired, to have a try at Theodore, or Militarism; Jane, or Pacifism; at So-and-So, the Pragmatist or the Freudian. And I hope, too, that they will without trying hold their pens with an eighteenth century lightness, not inappropriate to a philosophic tale. In Voltaire's fingers, as Anatole France has said, the pen runs and laughs.
CONTENTS
| CHAPTER | PAGE | |
| I. | How Candide was brought up in a Magnificent Castle, and how he was expelled thence | [1] |
| II. | What became of Candide among the Bulgarians | [5] |
| III. | How Candide made his escape from the Bulgarians, and what afterwards became of him | [9] |
| IV. | How Candide found his old Master Pangloss, and what happened to them | [13] |
| V. | Tempest, Shipwreck, Earthquake, and what became of Doctor Pangloss, Candide, and James the Anabaptist | [18] |
| VI. | How the Portuguese made a Beautiful Auto-da-fé, to prevent any further Earthquakes: and how Candide was publicly whipped | [23] |
| VII. | How the Old Woman took care of Candide, and how he found the Object he loved | [26] |
| VIII. | The History of Cunegonde | [30] |
| IX. | What became of Cunegonde, Candide, the Grand Inquisitor, and the Jew | [35] |
| X. | In what distress Candide, Cunegonde, and the Old Woman arrived at Cadiz; and of their Embarkation | [38] |
| XI. | History of the Old Woman | [42] |
| XII. | The Adventures of the Old Woman continued | [48] |
| XIII. | How Candide was forced away from his fair Cunegonde and the Old Woman | [54] |
| XIV. | How Candide and Cacambo were received by the Jesuits of Paraguay | [58] |
| XV. | How Candide killed the brother of his dear Cunegonde | [64] |
| XVI. | Adventures of the Two Travellers, with Two Girls, Two Monkeys, and the Savages called Oreillons | [68] |
| XVII. | Arrival of Candide and his Valet at El Dorado, and what they saw there | [74] |
| XVIII. | What they saw in the Country of El Dorado | [80] |
| XIX. | What happened to them at Surinam and how Candide got acquainted with Martin | [89] |
| XX. | What happened at Sea to Candide and Martin | [98] |
| XXI. | Candide and Martin, reasoning, draw near the Coast of France | [102] |
| XXII. | What happened in France to Candide and Martin | [105] |
| XXIII. | Candide and Martin touched upon the Coast of England, and what they saw there | [122] |
| XXIV. | Of Paquette and Friar Giroflée | [125] |
| XXV. | The Visit to Lord Pococurante, a Noble Venetian | [133] |
| XXVI. | Of a Supper which Candide and Martin took with Six Strangers, and who they were | [142] |
| XXVII. | Candide's Voyage to Constantinople | [148] |
| XXVIII. | What happened to Candide, Cunegonde, Pangloss, Martin, etc. | [154] |
| XXIX. | How Candide found Cunegonde and the Old Woman again | [159] |
| XXX. | The Conclusion | [161] |