"We must cultivate our garden."
The explosive piece of writing that was brought into existence in a short but inspired three-day period shocked Europe in 1759 when it was released, now seen as one of the most influential pieces of writing which was the main driving force behind the Enlightenment. I have always wanted to pick this book up but never gotten around to it. Like I was destined to read this, one fine Friday morning after a late Thursday night, I had a sudden urge of compulsion to walk to the local Waterstones and this particular book just happened to have caught my eye. Everything felt so quick as it was happening and before I knew it, I had already bought it and was on my way to go and sit in the library. Some kind of deep passion exists within me when it comes to philosophical writings from the Enlightenment movement, the animalistic magnetism of the 17th century is simply irresistible, like a thirst for blood.
The Enlightenment is perhaps the most influential intellectual movement in modern philosophy, it questioned and often harshly criticised traditional views of science, religion and the government. François-Marie Arouet who renamed himself Voltaire is quite the icon of his time. Just looking at Candide, it satirises almost every powerful institution of its era. It is truly a burlesque of churches, aristocracy, the military and of course the optimist and inventor of calculus, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz. Leibniz never recovered from the mockery Voltaire made out of him, “stunned, stupefied, despairing, bleeding, trembling, said to himself: — If this is the best of all possible worlds, what are the others like?”
Leibniz's argument is now seen as a problem of Theodicy, the defence of God in the face of evil. It is undeniable that the world that surrounds us follows an order of cause and effect, everything is dependent on something else for its existence. So, in order for the whole world to exist, a first cause must have brought it into being. But an infinite number of worlds were “equally possible,” This means in creating this world, the first cause must have been able to consider all other possible worlds. This first cause, being “infinite in all ways” of course, includes absolute values such as power, wisdom, love, and goodness. God must have chosen the best of all possible worlds. Voltaire makes absurdly horrid experiences for our main characters which shows the imperfection of the world, however, I believe he took Leibniz's argument too lightly. Leibniz does not mean that the best world is composed only of the best parts, just as “the part of a beautiful thing is not always beautiful.” A given day or age is not necessarily the best possible, nor is our life on earth. While the world as a whole is the best possible, the improvement of individual parts is in fact at the heart of Leibniz’s concern.
This being said, Voltaire exposes the extreme prejudice and irrationality of 17th and 18th-century institutions with his colourful characters such as the Grand Inquisitor or the haughty Young Baron. The direct and irreverent recrimination of subjects especially considered sacred for centuries prior is not only central to the Enlightenment movement but also perfectly fits Voltaire's modus operandi. On top of that, Candide is the vehement response from Voltaire to the absurd belief in all is for the best possible worlds was triggered by the catastrophic earthquake in Lisbon, 1755. Fifty thousand people were killed and yet the Optimists still espoused that partial evil is for the greater good. Their callousness was addressed by Voltaire initially with Poeme sur le desastre de Lisbonne in 1756, "The heirs of the dead would now come into their fortunes, masons would grow rich in rebuilding the city, beasts would grow fat on corpses buried in the ruins; such is the natural effect of natural causes. So don't worry about your own particular evil; you are contributing to the general good.", and Candide soon followed in 1759.
To sum up the story of Candide (spoiler alert from now on). The story begins with a young man named Candide (pure, innocent) who studies metaphysico-theologico-cosmolo-nigology under Professor Pangloss (all tongues: optimistic regardless of the situation), in Westphalia, the Baron of Thunder-ten-tronckh's castle. He gets kicked out because the Baron's daughter Cunégonde (St. Kunigunde pun to female genitalia) kissed him after she stumbled upon Pangloss having sex with one of the chambermaids. Candide then goes through the hardship of life outside of paradise, going from place to place, tricked by Bulgarian soldiers to join the army, but flees in the first battle to Holland. After unsuccessfully begging for money, and the wife of a Protestant orator dumping a chamber pot over his head for refusing to say that the Pope is the Antichrist, eventually, he is taken in by the altruistic Anabaptist Jacques. He then comes across Pangloss, who is ill with syphilis. Jacques takes Pangloss in and also pays for his cure. The three travel to Lisbon while debating philosophy.
On the bay of Lisbon, a terrible storm kills the Anabaptist Jacques and sinks the ship, Candide and Pangloss then experience a terrible earthquake killing thousands followed by an auto-da-fé which they were arrested for. Candide was whipped and Pangloss was hanged. Candide despairs and starts to doubt Pangloss' philosophy. An old woman took Candide in and reunited him with Cunégonde who is now being sexually shared by a Grand Inquisitor and a Jewish merchant named Don Issachar. Candide kills both of them as they come in and flee to Buenos Aires with Cunégonde and the old woman. Candide is put in charge of a military company and the Governor wants to keep Cunégonde, when the minions of the murdered Inquisitor come to find them, Candide flees again with his valet Cacambo. Cacambo takes Candide to the Jesuits and finds that the Reverend Commandant is the young Baron of Thunder-ten-tronckh. After expressing the intention of marrying Cunégonde, the Baron's sister, he attacks Candide who kills him in self-defence. Candide and Cacambo flee yet again, this time to the wilderness where they accidentally stumble upon El Dorado, a utopian society.
The desire for glory and Cunégonde causes them to leave, and the King of El Dorado gifts them with many treasures and a flock of red sheep to help them depart. Knowing he will be arrested in Buenos Aires, Candide and Cacambo and a cart of treasure to get Cunégonde and promises to meet back in Venice. Candide himself tries to gain passage back to Europe but is tricked by a ship owner who steals his flock of sheep and abandons him. Nevertheless, Candide does manage to arrange a journey to Bordeaux with Martin, a scholar and a pessimist who is now his travelling companion. Arriving in Bordeaux and travelling to Paris, Candide is tricked again by the Abbé of Perigord and Marchioness of Parolignac. They both end up in England briefly and finally arrive in Venice. After months of waiting, Candide and Martin end up having dinner with six kings who have been deposed. At the dinner, Cacambo finds Candide and informs him that Cunégonde is working as a servant in Turkey. Candide, Cacambo and Martin travel to Turkey, where they run into Pangloss and the young baron both working as slaves on the ship. Candide pays to have them freed and he does the same with the old woman and Cunégonde. Cunégonde now has become ugly but Candide still wishes to marry her and the young baron still opposes it. They send him back to being a slave and the two of them marry. Candide purchases a farm where they discuss their philosophy endlessly.
One day, Candide and his companions come across an old man and his children who seem to be happier than Candide and any man Candide has come across before. The man and his children work on their farm and sell the produce. Candide is inspired to abandon the endless questions of philosophy for the solace of practical work. He concludes that while we are alive, “we must cultivate our garden.”
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Candide took me on an unreservedly humorous, didactic folktale. It came and went in the blink of an eye, and before I was ready, the journey had already come to a propitious conclusion. Much like Pangloss, I have always been more or less an optimist. After quite the pilgrimage this picaresque novel brought to my mind, I am becoming increasingly uneasy writing and pondering, sitting still, very much the opposite of what this story suggests. Transitioning from school to university, from a child to an adult, what should I be striving towards? I look at the hollow men around me, can I live an enlightened life simply cultivating the garden? It is truly a puzzle that requires no solutions. I am running out of time, soon I will need to work because I simply can not allow myself to sit on my family's fortune. I wonder what my father would think of Candide's philosophy. Perhaps it is time to squirrel away my imagination and save it for the future me.