Candide | Page 6

and who took not the least notice of him in this
distress. Candide, who beheld all that passed and saw his benefactor
one moment rising above water, and the next swallowed up by the

merciless waves, was preparing to jump after him, but was prevented
by the philosopher Pangloss, who demonstrated to him that the
roadstead of Lisbon had been made on purpose for the Anabaptist to be
drowned there. While he was proving his argument a priori, the ship
foundered, and the whole crew perished, except Pangloss, Candide, and
the sailor who had been the means of drowning the good Anabaptist.
The villain swam ashore; but Pangloss and Candide reached the land
upon a plank.
As soon as they had recovered from their surprise and fatigue they
walked towards Lisbon; with what little money they had left they
thought to save themselves from starving after having escaped
drowning.
Scarcely had they ceased to lament the loss of their benefactor and set
foot in the city, when they perceived that the earth trembled under their
feet, and the sea, swelling and foaming in the harbor, was dashing in
pieces the vessels that were riding at anchor. Large sheets of flames and
cinders covered the streets and public places; the houses tottered, and
were tumbled topsy-turvy even to their foundations, which were
themselves destroyed, and thirty thousand inhabitants of both sexes,
young and old, were buried beneath the ruins.
The sailor, whistling and swearing, cried, "Damn it, there's something
to be got here."
"What can be the sufficing reason of this phenomenon?" said Pangloss.
"It is certainly the day of judgment," said Candide.
The sailor, defying death in the pursuit of plunder, rushed into the
midst of the ruin, where he found some money, with which he got
drunk, and, after he had slept himself sober he purchased the favors of
the first good-natured wench that came in his way, amidst the ruins of
demolished houses and the groans of half-buried and expiring persons.
Pangloss pulled him by the sleeve. "Friend," said he, "this is not right,
you trespass against the universal reason, and have mistaken your

time."
"Death and zounds!" answered the other, "I am a sailor and was born at
Batavia, and have trampled four times upon the crucifix in as many
voyages to Japan; you have come to a good hand with your universal
reason."
In the meantime, Candide, who had been wounded by some pieces of
stone that fell from the houses, lay stretched in the street, almost
covered with rubbish.
"For God's sake," said he to Pangloss, "get me a little wine and oil! I
am dying."
"This concussion of the earth is no new thing," said Pangloss, "the city
of Lima in South America experienced the same last year; the same
cause, the same effects; there is certainly a train of sulphur all the way
underground from Lima to Lisbon."
"Nothing is more probable," said Candide; "but for the love of God a
little oil and wine."
"Probable!" replied the philosopher, "I maintain that the thing is
demonstrable."
Candide fainted away, and Pangloss fetched him some water from a
neighboring spring. The next day, in searching among the ruins, they
found some eatables with which they repaired their exhausted strength.
After this they assisted the inhabitants in relieving the distressed and
wounded. Some, whom they had humanely assisted, gave them as good
a dinner as could be expected under such terrible circumstances. The
repast, indeed, was mournful, and the company moistened their bread
with their tears; but Pangloss endeavored to comfort them under this
affliction by affirming that things could not be otherwise that they
were.
"For," said he, "all this is for the very best end, for if there is a volcano
at Lisbon it could be in no other spot; and it is impossible but things

should be as they are, for everything is for the best."
By the side of the preceptor sat a little man dressed in black, who was
one of the familiars of the Inquisition. This person, taking him up with
great complaisance, said, "Possibly, my good sir, you do not believe in
original sin; for, if everything is best, there could have been no such
thing as the fall or punishment of man."
Your Excellency will pardon me," answered Pangloss, still more
politely; "for the fall of man and the curse consequent thereupon
necessarily entered into the system of the best of worlds."
"That is as much as to say, sir," rejoined the familiar, "you do not
believe in free will."
"Your Excellency will be so good as to excuse me," said Pangloss,
"free will is consistent with absolute necessity; for it was necessary we
should be free, for in that the will-"
Pangloss was in the midst of his proposition,