"Ah, Pangloss! Pangloss! Ah, Martin! Martin! Ah, my dear Cunegonde, what sort of a world is this?" said Candide on board the Dutch ship.
"Ah, Pangloss! Pangloss! Ah, Martin! Martin! Ah, my dear Cunegonde. What kind of world is this?" said Candide aboard the Dutch ship.
"Something very foolish and abominable," said Martin.
"Something very foolish and abominable," said Martin.
"You know England? Are they as foolish there as in France?"
"Do you know England? Are people there as foolish as in France?"
"It is another kind of folly," said Martin. "You know that these two nations are at war for a few acres of snow in Canada, and that they spend over this beautiful war much more than Canada is worth. To tell you exactly, whether there are more people fit to send to a madhouse in one country than the other, is what my imperfect intelligence will not permit. I only know in general that the people we are going to see are very atrabilious."
"It is another kind of folly," said Martin. "You know these two nations are at war over a few acres of snow in Canada. They spend on this absurd war far more than Canada is worth. I cannot tell you exactly. My limited intelligence will not permit it. I don't know whether one country has more people fit to send to a madhouse than the other. I only know in general that the people we are going to see are very gloomy."
This same curiously inept criticism of the war which cost France her American provinces occurs in Voltaire's Memoirs, wherein he says, "In 1756 England made a piratical war upon France for some acres of snow." See also his Précis du Siècle de Louis XV.
Talking thus they arrived at Portsmouth. The coast was lined with crowds of people, whose eyes were fixed on a fine man kneeling, with his eyes bandaged, on board one of the men of war in the harbour. Four soldiers stood opposite to this man; each of them fired three balls at his head, with all the calmness in the world; and the whole assembly went away very well satisfied.
As they talked, they reached Portsmouth. The coast was lined with crowds. Everyone was staring at a handsome man kneeling aboard a warship in the harbour. His eyes were bandaged. Four soldiers stood facing him. Each fired three musket balls into his head with complete calm. The whole crowd went away very satisfied.
"What is all this?" said Candide; "and what demon is it that exercises his empire in this country?"
"What is all this?" Candide asked. "And what demon rules this country?"
He then asked who was that fine man who had been killed with so much ceremony. They answered, he was an Admiral.
He then asked who that fine man was. He had been killed with so much ceremony. They answered that he was an Admiral.
Admiral Byng was shot on March 14, 1757.
"And why kill this Admiral?"
"Why kill this admiral?"
"It is because he did not kill a sufficient number of men himself. He gave battle to a French Admiral; and it has been proved that he was not near enough to him."
"It’s because he didn't kill enough men himself. He fought a French admiral. It has been proven that he was not close enough to him."
"But," replied Candide, "the French Admiral was as far from the English Admiral."
"But," Candide replied, "the French admiral was just as far from the English admiral."
"There is no doubt of it; but in this country it is found good, from time to time, to kill one Admiral to encourage the others."
"There is no doubt about it. But in this country, they sometimes find it useful to kill one admiral to encourage the others."
Candide was so shocked and bewildered by what he saw and heard, that he would not set foot on shore, and he made a bargain with the Dutch skipper (were he even to rob him like the Surinam captain) to conduct him without delay to Venice.
Candide was so shocked and confused by what he had seen and heard that he would not step ashore. He made a deal with the Dutch skipper to take him to Venice at once. He accepted that the skipper might rob him, as the Surinam captain had.
The skipper was ready in two days. They coasted France; they passed in sight of Lisbon, and Candide trembled. They passed through the Straits, and entered the Mediterranean. At last they landed at Venice.
The skipper was ready in two days. They sailed along the French coast. They passed Lisbon within sight. Candide trembled. They passed through the Straits and entered the Mediterranean. At last they landed in Venice.
"God be praised!" said Candide, embracing Martin. "It is here that I shall see again my beautiful Cunegonde. I trust Cacambo as myself. All is well, all will be well, all goes as well as possible."
"Thank God!" Candide said, embracing Martin. "Here I will see my beautiful Cunegonde again. I trust Cacambo as much as I trust myself. Everything is fine. Everything will be fine. Things are going as well as possible."