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$Title{Works of Voltaire
Candide: Chapters 20 - 24}
$Subtitle{}
$Author{Voltaire}
$Affiliation{Assistant Professor Of History, Hofstra University}
$Subject{candide
martin
abbe
cunegonde
voltaire
france
says
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$Date{}
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Title:       Works of Voltaire
Book:        Candide
Author:      Voltaire
Critic:      Sobel, Robert
Affiliation: Assistant Professor Of History, Hofstra University

Candide: Chapters 20 - 24

Chapter Twenty What Happened To Candide And Martin At Sea

     Candide, along with the poor scholar-whose name was Martin-boarded the
ship and set sail for Bordeaux. During the long voyage, they occupied
themselves discussing moral and physical evils. But there was a difference
between these two unfortunate souls: Candide dreamed of Cunegonde, while
Martin looked forward to nothing. In addition, Candide still had some gold
and diamonds left from his almost completely lost fortune. Remembering this,
Candide returned to the philosophy espoused by Dr. Pangloss.

     The scholar was asked by Candide what he thought of the problem of evil.
Martin replied that the clergy of Surinam accused him of denying the divinity
of Christ. He believes that man was created by evil forces, and not good ones.
Candide does not believe this, but Martin repeats  his assertion. If you look
about you, he says, you will see the work of the devil everywhere; God must
have deserted the planet, with the exception of Eldorado. Every town wants the
destruction of nearby towns; families wish to destroy other families; "the
weak detest the strong and cringe before them, and the strong treat them like
so many sheep to be sold for their meat and wool." Europe is full of
assassins, who range the continent from one end to the other committing murder
and mayhem. Concluding his speech, Martin says that he is forced by experience
and observation to believe that man's origin is evil. Candide insists that
there must be some good in the world. There may be, says Martin, but he hasn't
seen any.

     While they were talking the sound of gunfire reached the ship. Two
warships were fighting, some three miles away. The ships approached, and
Candide could see the men fighting, and a hundred poor souls dying on the deck
of one of the ships, which was about to sink. They were swallowed by the sea
soon after. Martin then tells Candide that this is a prime example of what he
had been taking about. Candide admits that something is diabolical about all
this. As he spoke, he saw a bright red object in the sea. It was one of his
sheep! Candide was overjoyed at finding him, especially since he was still
loaded with riches.

     The captain soon discovered that one of the ships had been a Dutch
vessel, and the other, Spanish. The sunken ship had been the very one
commanded by the man who had cheated Candide! Our hero turned to Martin, and
observed that crime is sometimes punished, the captain got what he deserved.
But Martin noted that the passengers, who were without fault, were also lost
at sea. God punished the scoundrel, but the devil drowned the rest. This
conversation continued for a long while, and although it got no further, the
two men enjoyed it. Candide was content; he petted sheep, and said that now
that he had found it, he would surely find Cunegonde soon as well.

Comment:

     In this chapter Voltaire discusses the question of good and evil in a
brief, but telling manner. The argument is familiar: If God is all good and
all powerful, how does one explain the existence of evil? Martin, whose life
has been filled with tragedies, has the answer: God is not all powerful at the
present time, although he might have been a long while ago. The world is
controlled by the devil, and it is he who is responsible for the evil and
suffering in the world. In one of the most powerful passages in the book,
Martin describes the state of Europe, and asks how one could explain this in
terms of an all-powerful, all-benevolent God. Candide thinks he has his
answer when the sheep is returned to him, and the evil captain is punished by
drowning. But Martin notes that a hundred or so innocent people died in the
same disaster. Thus, if God punished one evil man, the devil punished a
hundred innocent ones. Although Voltaire does not say so, he seems to imply
here that the devil may be a hundred times more powerful than God. But
Candide, after questioning Pangloss' philosophy in the previous chapters,
seems to have returned to the optimism of the earlier part of the book. He has
his sheep and his money, and believes he will soon find Cunegonde. The
troubles of the past seem behind him; his good motives in saving Martin from
his fate in Surinam are now submerged, as his optimism blinds him to the fate
of his fellow men. From  the time he lost the sheep to the time he saw one of
them swimming in the sea, he was concerned with the fate of mankind. During
this time, he questioned Pangloss' philosophy and became a pessimist to all
intents and purposes. The periods in which he is optimistic about the future,
he tends to ignore his fellow men. Is Voltaire saying that the optimist is
less human and humane than the pessimist? This seems to be the case.

Chapter Twenty-One What Candide And Martin Discussed As They Approached The
Coast Of France

     At last the coast of France was sighted. Candide asks Martin whether he
has ever been to this country. Martin responds that he knows France well: the
three major occupations of the people are love, backbiting, and talking
nonsense. Paris is chaotic, full of people searching for pleasure without
finding it. When he was there last he was robbed by a pickpocket, and then
jailed for eight days on suspicion of being a pickpocket himself. Later on the
became a printer's reader, so as to earn enough money to return to Holland.

     Candide is not eager to see France. "You will appreciate that after
spending a month in Eldorado, a man is not interested in seeing anything
except Lady Cunegonde." He will wait for her in Venice, and must cross France
to Italy. Candide then asks Martin to accompany him on his voyage, and Martin
agrees to do so. It is said that Venice is no place for the poor. Since
Candide is not poor, he will be happy to follow him there.

     Candide then changes the subject. Does Martin believe that the earth was
originally part of the sea? He has read this in a book the captain had. Martin
replies that he doesn't believe it any more than anything else he reads in
books. But why was the world created, asks Candide. To drive us mad, says
companion. Then Candide asks Martin if the story of the two Oreillon girls
who loved the monkeys astonished him. Martin says that he was not surprised.
He has seen so many strange things, that nothing surprises him. Candide asks
Martin if he believes man has always been as wicked and depraved as he is at
the present time. "Do you think that hawks have always eaten pigeons when they
could find them?" was the answer. Candide believes they always have. Then,
says Martin, if hawks have not changed their character, why does Candide
suppose that man is any different today than he was yesterday? Candide begins
his answer, which involves the fact that man has free will, when he hears that
the ship has reached Bordeaux.

Comment:

     Voltaire cannot ignore the opportunity to criticize his countrymen in
this chapter, in which the travellers arrive in France. The French are silly
people, who are often wicked. Paris is a most depraved city. Yet, the
shortness of the chapter, and the rapidity with which Voltaire changes the
subject, leads us to question the depth of this criticism. True, he had sharp
words for his adversaries, and always praised Britain to the detriment of
France, but there was a residue of nationalism in the man. After discussing
France, Candide engages in a conversation about sundry matters with his
companion. Martin proves to be a skeptic of the first order. Nothing surprises
him, he says. What he really means is that he has encountered nothing but evil
in his lifetime, and is no longer surprised by the cruelties of the world. One
suspects that he would be amazed by goodness, that is, if he could recognize
it as such. Man is evil, he says, and was always evil. Candide's response is
begun when the ship reaches Bordeaux. He was about to argue that man may
change, since he has free will. To this, Martin might have said that man has
never used this free will for good, and why expect him to do so in the future?
Martin speaks for Voltaire in this section, and reflects the author's contempt
for the efforts of some of his contemporaries to reform the world.

/3
Chapter Twenty-Two What Happened To Candide And Martin In France

     The  travellers' experiences in France occupy most of this, one of the
longest chapters in the book.

     Candide purchased a carriage in Bordeaux, and prepared to travel to
Venice. He regretted leaving the sheep behind, but gave it to the Academy of
Sciences, which then established an annual prize for an essay on the topic:
"Why are Sheep's Fleece Red?" The prize was won by a scholar who proved,
through the use of mathematics, that sheep were necessarily red and should
die of scabs.

     Candide discovered that everyone he met along the road was going to
Paris. He decided to make a side trip to that city. He entered the city, which
was as bad as the filthiest city in Westphalia. On reaching his hotel, he was
overcome by a slight sickness. Since he wore a large diamond ring and had a
great cash box, he was soon attended by two doctors he had not sent for, some
friends who would not leave him, and some ladies who tired to feed him hot
broth. Martin observed that he was also ill during his first trip to Paris. No
one attended him, and so he recovered.

     Candide's friends soon succeeded in bringing him to the brink of death
with their care and medicines. A priest was called in to administer last
rites. He asked Candide for a promissory note payable to the bearer in the
next world. Candide refused to enter into such an agreement. His new
lady-friends said it was all right; it was a new custom. Candide still
refused, since he was not a man of fashion. Martin was angry, and threatened
to throw the priest out the window. The priest retaliated, by threatening not
to bury Candide. Martin replied that he would bury the priest unless he left.
After some more arguing, Martin threw the priest out the front door. The
priest was offended, and initiated a law suit.

     Candide recovered, and while he convalesced, had some people of fashion
to supper. These people played cards for high stakes, and Candide joined them.
Candide was surprised to find that he never drew an ace; Martin was not a bit
surprised.

     A spry abbe from Perigord showed Candide around town. He was a fawning
type, who knew all the gossip and joined in the most expensive entertainments.
The party went to the theatre to see a new tragedy. Candide wept through the
performance, although a group of critics nearby made snide comments. One of
them spoke to Candide during the intermission: Candide was wrong to weep; it
was a bad play, acted by bad performers. He offered to bring Candide twenty
hostile reviews of the work the next day. Candide turned to the abbe, and
asked how many plays have been written in French. Five or six thousand, is the
answer. Candide says "That's a lot," and then asks how many are good. The abbe
replies that fifteen or sixteen are good. Candide repeats his first comment:
"That's a lot."

     Candide enjoyed the performance of the actress who played the part of
Queen Elizabeth; she reminded him of Cunegonde. After he told the abbe that he
would like to pay his respects to her, the abbe offered to introduce the two
at his house. This troubled Candide. How are Queens of England treated in
France? He was raised in Germany, and matters of etiquette trouble him. The
abbe replied that they are treated with respect while still beautiful, but
after death are thrown on the dunghill. This shocked Candide, but Martin
assured him that the abbe was correct; that is what happened to Minimia, who
was thrown on the dungheap after death. Candide thought this was highly
improper behavior. Martin, always the skeptic and cynic, replied that such
is what one learns to expect in this life. "Imagine every possible
contradiction and inconsistency, and you will find them in the government, the
law-courts, the churches, and the whole life of this absurd nation."

     Candide then notes that the people of Paris always seem to be laughing.
Why is this so? The abbe replies that they laugh at odd times, such as during
the commission of horrible crimes. (Obviously, then, since they are always
laughing, they are always doing something horrible.) What of the men who
laughed during the performance of the tragedy? They are evil-minded people,
answers the abbe. They are critics, who enjoy damning every play and book.
"He hates a successful writer, just as eunuchs hate successful lovers. He is
one of those snakes of literature who feed on dirt and venom. He's a
pamphleteer." Candide asks what sort of work a pamphleteer does. The abbe
replies that a pamphleteer deals in odd sheets of paper; he is a journalist.
While they spoke, the crowd left the theatre.

     Candide swears that he is eager to see Cunegonde, but he would also like
to have supper with the actress (Mademoiselle Clairon), whose acting he so
admires. But Clairon moves in the best circles, and the abbe (contrary to what
he said before) did not know her friends. Still, he has a suggestion; he will
introduce Candide to a lady of quality who will give him four years of
experience of Parisian life. Candide is curious, and goes to call on the lady.

     The lady and a group of twelve friends were busy playing cards when
Candide, Martin, and the abbe arrived. The lady was seated near a banker,
watching with care the progress of the game. This care was not idle curiosity;
she was making certain the players did not mark the cards. The lady was aided
by her fifteen year old daughter, who also watched the game avidly. Indeed,
they were so intent on their task that they didn't notice the entry of the
three men. Candide was surprised by this, and noted that the Baroness of
Thunder-ten-tronckh had better manners. But just then the abbe whispered
something in the lady's ear, and she rose to greet Candide. It seems that she
was a Marchioness with a passion for gaming. Candide was then shown a seat,
handed a pack of cards, and invited to join the game. He lost fifty thousand
francs in two deals.

     After the game the group went to dinner. All were surprised by the fact
that Candide did not seem bothered by his heavy losses. The footmen though he
must be an English lord.

     The group had a typical Parisian supper: there was much noise, many
witticisms (some good, most bad), a little politics, and a great deal of
slander. They discussed some new books. The abbe asked if the group had read
a book by Gauchat. One of the guests said he had, and like so many works of
the time, it was pointless; he found much more enjoyment at cards. And what of
Canon T.'s essays? Another guest thought they were boring. Then the talk
turned to tragedies. A guest asked why some tragedies were acted when they
were unreadable. A man of taste replied that sometimes a play could interest
an audience although it might have little merit. Dramatists must have fresh
ideas, but they must not be fantastic. They must be sublime, yet neutral.
They must be poets yet none of their characters may be poets. They must know
the language, but must not allow the rhyme to dictate the meaning. Those who
break the rules may write a successful play or two, but will never be great
writers. There are very few good tragedies.

     These words impressed Candide, who was seated next to the Marchioness. He
asked her who the man of taste was. She replied that he was a scholar, who
didn't play cards but sometimes came with the abbe and stayed for supper. He
had written unsuccessful plays and novels. Candide thought he was a great man,
perhaps another Pangloss. He turned to speak to the author. Did he believe
that all was for the best in this world, and could not be otherwise? The
author replied that he did not: all is wrong with the world, and no one knows
his place. Life is a perpetual civil war. Candide thought he had seen worse,
and spoke of Pangloss, who believed that there might be shadows in the most
beautiful picture. Martin interrupted, saying that the shadows were in reality
horrible blemishes. Candide agreed, but said that the blemishes are man-made,
and man could not do otherwise. Martin accepted this, saying it was not their
fault.

     Most of the guests could not follow this conversation, and continued
their drinking. Candide told some of his life-story to the Marchioness. After
dinner she led him to her room, and sat him on a couch. She asked if he were
still devoted to Cunegonde, and Candide replied that he was. The Marchioness
smiled, and said that he spoke like a Westphalian; a Frenchman would have
admitted love for Cunegonde, but would have added that he loved her more.
Candide was agreeable to this: "Very well, Madam, I will answer as you wish."
The Marchioness continued, saying that Candide began to love Cunegonde the
moment he picked up her handkerchief. She then asked Candide to pick up her
garter. Candide did so. The Marchioness was expansive: sometimes she let her
would-be lovers wait for weeks, but she would surrender to Candide that night,
as a courtesy to the visitor from Westphalia. She then praised Candide's two
diamonds, which he wore on his hands. Soon after she was in possession of
them.

     Afterwards, Candide felt remorse at having been unfaithful to Cunegonde.
The abbe sensed Candide's remorse, and suited himself to the mood. It seems
that Candide had lost fifty thousand francs at cards in addition to the two
small diamonds. The abbe hoped to cultivate Candide, and profit thereby. And
so he talked with him of Cunegonde. The abbe said that Cunegonde must be
witty, and her letters charming. Candide admitted that he had no letters from
her. He told of Cacambo's voyage, and of his waiting for an answer from the
servant. The abbe thought about this for a moment, and then left.

     Candide received a letter, apparently from Cunegonde, the next day. In
it she said she was ill, that she had left Cacambo and the old woman behind
but that they would soon follow, and that the Governor of Buenos Aires took
all the riches. She closed with the wish that Candide join her as soon as
possible. Candide was overjoyed; he drove with Martin to the address given
in the letter, and rushed into the house, and then into the bedroom. A figure
was in the bed. Candide shouted Cunegonde's name, but a nurse told him to be
still, and that Cunegonde could not speak. But a hand emerged from the bed.
Candide, believing it to be Cunegonde's, covered it with diamonds and then
placed a bag of gold on an armchair in the room. As all this was happening,
the abbe arrived with some officers. One officer asked the abbe whether
Candide and Martin were the suspicious strangers he had told them about. The
abbe said they were, and the officers seized the two men. Candide protested:
"This is not the way travellers are treated in Eldorado." Martin said that he
was more convinced than ever of man's essential evil. Candide asked where
they were to be taken, and was told they would be placed in a dungeon.

     At this point, Martin realized that the lady in the bed and the abbe were
both frauds. Did this mean the officers were frauds as well? Perhaps they
could be gotten rid of easily. Martin spoke with Candide, and our hero showed
the officers three small diamonds. The officers were touched. All strangers
were placed under arrest, they said, but Candide had nothing to fear. One of
the officers had a brother near Dieppe. If given a diamond or so, he would
take care of him. Candide asked why all strangers were arrested. The abbe
replied that a beggar heard some people talking nonsense, and soon after
committed murder. This was not a murder of the fashion of May, 1610 (here
Voltaire refers to the assassination of King Henry IV), but rather after the
fashion of December, 1594 (the crowning of Henry IV). Candide is puzzled. This
land frightens him. He asks the officer to take him to Venice, where he will
once again see Cunegonde. But the officer can only take him to lower Normandy.
With this, the handcuffs are removed from Candide and Martin, and the two are
taken to Dieppe. For the price of three diamonds a boatsman takes them to
Portsmouth, England. Although this was not the way to Venice, Candide was
happy; at least he was delivered from the hell of France! He would start
out for Venice at the first opportunity.

Comment:

     This chapter is a commentary on France, the Church, and the
cupidity of mankind. It begins, however, with Candide donating his sheep to
the Academy of Sciences, which immediately sets up an essay contest on the
question, "Why are Sheep's Fleece Red?" It is won by a mathematical fool. This
is an obvious reference to the many similar essay contests held by the
magazines edited by the philosophes. Rousseau first came to prominence with
the writing of one such essay. This essay, the Discourse on the Sciences and
Arts (1750) was criticized by Voltaire, and the author may here be lampooning
Rousseau and those who follow him. With this out of the way, Candide and
Martin go to Paris, which Voltaire describes as a filthy city. The Parisians
are evil people who laugh at the misfortunes of others. The clergy are even
worse. One tries to sell Candide an indulgence, and the seemingly friendly
abbe is out to rob Candide of his wealth. Doctors do not fare any better; the
doctors are as venal as the clergy; when they hear the rich Candide is ill,
they come running, without having been asked. Candide almost dies under their
treatment. Then Voltaire turns to the press, and more particularly, to
critics. These men cannot write themselves, and so spend their lives
criticizing those who do. So much for them! And what do they expect? If there
are fifteen good plays out of the thousands written, says Candide, that's
still quite a lot. At the dinner party, Candide meets a man of taste who sets
forth seemingly intelligent rules for the writing of plays. Candide is quite
impressed, even though he later discovers that the man cannot write himself.
Thus, Voltaire indicates that those who claim there are rules for writing are
knaves or fools.

Chapter Twenty-Three Candide And Martin Reach The Coast Of England, And What
They See There

     While travelling to England, Candide and Martin discuss their problems.
Candide asks Martin what he makes of the world; his friend finds it "a
senseless and detestable piece of work." Candide changes the subject, and asks
Martin if he knows England. Are they as mad there as in France? Martin replies
that they are, but in a different way. The two nations are fighting, and
spending huge sums, for control of Canada, a snowy, worthless place. The
English are different from the French, however: they are serious and gloomy.

     The ship reached Portsmouth, and Candide noticed a crowd watching a stout
man, who was kneeling, with his eyes bandaged, on the deck of a warship. Four
soldiers fired shots into his skull, and everyone seemed happy. Candide asks
the meaning of this performance, and is told that the stout man was an admiral
who did not have enough dead men to his credit. He engaged in battle with a
French ship, and did not come close enough alongside. Candide noted that the
French admiral was as far from the English ship as the English admiral was
from the French ship. That is true, answered an onlooker, but in England, it
seems to pay to shoot an admiral from time to time.

     All this shocks Candide, and he refuses to set foot on English soil. He
goes to bargain with the captain, who agrees to take the ship to Venice after
being promised more money. After a long voyage, the ship was safely anchored
at that city. Candide is overjoyed; at last he will see Cunegonde. He is now
on the right road, and the outlook seems fine; his old optimism returns in
full force. He seems sure that Cunegonde will be there, for he has great
trust in Cacambo.

Comment:

     The only purpose for this chapter is to allow Voltaire to make
an observation about the English. He sees no sense in the imperial wars
France and England fought throughout the eighteenth century, and says so. He
believes the English to be a gloomy race, but does not follow this up with
examples. The reader will remember that the observations of the French in the
previous chapter were buttressed by many stories in which their unsavory
practices were exposed. This is not the case here. Instead, Voltaire limits
himself to the story of the execution of the admiral, and then whisks Candide
to Venice. It is almost as though he changed his mind about the nature of the
chapter after having begun it. Voltaire admired the English over all other
people in Europe, and yet spends only a few hundred words on that nation.
Perhaps this can be explained by the fact that Candide was written hurriedly;
it is not the polished, finished work which Voltaire usually published. Thus,
there are gaps, contradictions, and the like, as well as the type of
malproportion discussed here. In a way this is to be expected; the story of
Candide, while interesting and informative, is not the purpose of the book.
The work is a philosophical tract and work of criticism set in the form of a
novel. This helps explain the curious nature of this chapter and others.

Chapter Twenty-Four About Pacquette And Brother Giroflee

     As soon as the travellers set foot on land, they began their search for
Cacambo. Although they looked everywhere, he was not to be found. Every ship
arriving in the port was examined, but still no Cacambo. Candide is disturbed
by this. He has spent a good deal of time in his journey to Venice. Surely
Cacambo and Cunegonde should have arrived there before him. He can only
conclude that Cunegonde is dead, and if is so, he might as well die also. How
much better it would have been to remain in Eldorado instead of returning to
Europe. Martin is right: "there is nothing here but illusion and one calamity
after another." Candide then sank into a deep depression, and nothing could
rouse him from it.

     Martin remains the cynic. Candide is surely a simple person, to believe
that a mongrel servant with five or six million in his pocket would follow his
directions. If Cacambo found Cunegonde, he probably took her for himself; if
he didn't, he would find another wench. Martin advises Candide to forget his
sweetheart and his servant. These words offer Candide no consolation; he
became more melancholy, as Martin proved that all the world was horrible, with
the exception of Eldorado, and no one could go there.

     One day, while the two were discussing the matter, Candide noticed a
young monk walking arm in arm with a girl. As they walked, the girl looked
lovingly at the monk, and from time to time pinched his cheeks. Candide
observed that these two seemed happy, and offered to bet Martin that they were
most content. Martin accepted the bet. Candide suggested that they invite
the two to dinner, and then they would see who was right and who was wrong.
Candide approached the pair, and invited them to a sumptuous feast. The
girl blushed, but the monk accepted at once. As they walked to the inn, the
girl glanced at Candide in astonishment and confusion, and she begun to cry.
Once in the room, she spoke to Candide. Didn't he recognize Pacquette?
Candide was astonished: this was the girl who had gotten Pangloss in all that
trouble at the castle! Pacquette admits that she is the one, and then settled
down to tell Candide her story.

     She has heard of Cunegonde's horrible experiences and those of others,
but says that her life has been worse. When they first met, she was an
innocent girl, and so her confessor had little difficulty in seducing
her. Then horrible things happened. She was forced to leave the castle soon
after Candide was ejected. If a famous doctor had not taken pity on her, she
might have died. But she became the doctor's mistress, and for a while was
content. Then the doctor's wife became jealous, and started to beat her
every day. The doctor was a most ugly man, and Pacquette did not love him.
Imagine being beaten for a man you don't love!  It is dangerous, however,
for a cross woman to marry a doctor. She fell ill, and he gave her some
medicine; within two hours she was dead. Then her relatives pursued the
doctor, who was forced to flee. Pacquette was put into prison, and her
innocence would not have saved her were it not for the fact that she was
pretty. The judge released her, on condition that she become his mistress. All
seemed well, but shortly thereafter the judge got a new mistress and threw
her out of his house. Pacquette had no choice: she became a streetwalker. She
fondled businessmen, lawyers, monks, gondoliers, and abbes. And with no
prospect of either earthly or heavenly rewards! She is one of the unhappiest
persons alive.

     When she ended, Martin turned triumphantly to Candide, and claimed to
have won half the bet. Candide was puzzled; Pacquette seemed so happy in the
street, fondling the monk and pinching his cheeks. That's the way things are,
she sighed. Yesterday she had been robbed and beaten by an officer, and today
she must seem happy to please a monk. Candide then admitted that Martin was
right, and the four sat down to dinner.

     During the meal, Candide spoke with the monk, whose name was Brother
Giroflee. He said that the monk was a lucky fellow. He is healthy, has a
pretty girl, and seems happy with his place in the Church. The Brother says
this is not so; he has often considered burning the monastery to the ground,
and becoming a Turk. His parents sent him to the monastery in order to leave
more money to an older brother, whom he curses. The monastery is filled with
quarrelsome, jealous men. Some of his sermons bring him money, but the Prior
robs him of half of his take. However, he does have enough left for his
girls.

     Martin again turns to Candide, and claims to have won the bet. Candide
agrees, and pays him two thousand piastres. He also gives Brother Giroflee
one thousand piastres, telling Martin that it will make them happy. Martin
disagrees: the money will make them more unhappy. Candide changes the subject,
and observes that a man often runs into people he never expected to see again.
Perhaps he will meet Cunegonde in Venice. Martin hopes she will make Candide
happy one day, but he doubts it. Candide calls Martin a pessimist, but Martin
replies that he is what life has made him. Look at the gondoliers, says
Candide. See how happy they are, singing all the time. But Martin observes
that they are probably not so happy at home with their wives and children.
What of the senator, Pococurante, asks Candide. He lives in a beautiful
palace, and is said to be most happy. Martin replies that he would like to see
him. Candide then asks permission to see Pococurante.

Comment:

     The core of this chapter is Pacquette's story. Here Voltaire takes the
opportunity to attack the highest elements of European society using the
device of a streetwalker. In his masterpiece, In Praise of Folly, Erasmus does
much the same thing. Pacquette was seduced by her confessor, and then roughly
used by people who make up the cream of the professions. Brother Giroflee, a
corrupt monk, is not an evil man per se; he simply has no vocation, and was
placed in the monastery for family considerations. His monastery is not a
place of quiet contemplation, but rather of constant bickering. Thus, says
Voltaire, even basically good, or banal men, may be corrupted by the corrupt
institutions of the Europe of his day.

