Chapter 10: The distress in which Candide, Cunegonde, and the old woman arrived at Cadiz, and their embarking on a new journey.

“Oh, what a disastrous series of events. All my pistols and diamonds are gone” said a crying Cunegonde. “How will we live? What will we do? Where will I find another Jew or Inquisitor to give me more of them?”

“Alas,” said the old woman, “I strongly suspect the Franciscan friar who had been sleeping last night at our same hostel in Badajos. There may be more of them around here. Though I don’t want to judge him too harshly, he entered twice into our room, and left long before we did. It seemed indeed suspicious.”

“Alas,” said Candide, “the good Pangloss already proved to me that the fruits of the earth are shared commonly among all men, and that each had equal rights. The Franciscan might well, according to his principals, have left us something to aid us in our travels. Or, you may be left with nothing at all, my beautiful Cunegonde.”

“He left nothing¹,” she said. “What should we do, then?” Candide said.

“Sell one of the horses,” said the old woman, “and I’ll ride behind Mademoiselle, and we’ll still arrive in Cadiz.”

They arrived at the same hotel as a Benedictine prior; he bought their well-travelled horse for a rather low price. Candide, Cunegonde, and the old woman passed through Lucena, through Chillas, through Lebrixa, and finally arrived in Cadiz. A naval fleet was being assembled at the harbor there, with a multitude of troops gathering to bring reason to the Reverend Jesuit Fathers of Paraguay, whom they’d accused of revolting, along with their hordes of loyal natives in the neighborhood of Saint Sacrament, against the Kings of Spain and Portugal. Candide, having already served with the Bulgares, demonstrated an excellent Bulgarian split squat in front of the little army’s general with such grace, such agility, such strength, and such an intrepid air that he was given command over a company of foot soldiers². With just that performance, he was captain! He went aboard one of the fleet’s ships with Cunegonde, the old woman, two valets, and the two horses they’d ridden through Portugal.

Through the whole journey our protagonists reasoned through poor Pangloss’s philosophy. “We’re going into another world,” said Candide. “Over there, I don’t doubt, everything is good: though it must be admitted that our physique and morale will suffer in the process.³”

“I love you with all my heart,” said Cunegonde, “but my soul remains deeply startled by what I’ve seen and experienced.” 

“All will be well,” replied Candide, “for the sea of this new world is undoubtedly better than the cold waters of Europe’s coast; it is more calm, with a constant breeze. Indeed, it’s possible that this new world is the best world possible.”

“God grant it,” said Cunegonde, “but I’ve been so horribly unhappy that my heart is nearly closed to hope.” 

“I pity you, then,” said the old woman. “Alas! You’ve never felt the sting of fate near as much as I have.”

Cunegonde nearly laughed, finding the dear woman very amusing for thinking she had suffered as much as Cunegonde. “Alas! You’ve never been violated by two Bulgares, never received two stab wounds in your own home, never seen said two of your homes destroyed, nor two pairs of mothers and fathers murdered before your eyes, nor watched your two loves whipped in an auto-da-fé, so I have no idea how you could’ve ever suffered more than me! Consider too that I was born a baroness of seventy-two quarterings, and now I’ve been made a cook. What a fall from grace I’ve endured!”

“Mademoiselle,” responded the old woman, “you do not know my birth, and were I to show you my backside, you would suspend your judgement and no longer speak in such a way.” 

This discourse kindled an extreme curiosity in Cunegonde and Candide. The old woman saw their interest and began to speak in the following terms.

Translator’s Notes:

1. Here, Voltaire is making a not-so-subtle criticism of the (18th-century) Catholic church’s tendency to take things they had no right to, using power and perceived morality to get away with it. He’s highlighting the difference between spiritual ideals and the reality of the clergy’s behavior.
2. This seems a foolish reason to bestow power upon someone, no? Voltaire was evidently quite irritated by the European tendency to promote military officials past their experience levels and abilities, simply because they acted impressive, looked handsome, or were wealthy. Many commanders were fully capable and deserving of their posts, but many others were not.
3. Notice that Candide is beginning to question Pangloss’s wisdom. This is a notable change in mindset, for him.