"After passing over heaps of dead or dying men, the first place he came to was a neighboring village, in the Abarian territories, which had been burned to the ground by the Bulgarians, agreeably to the laws of war. Here lay a number of old men covered with wounds, who beheld their wives dying with their throats cut, and hugging their children to their breasts, all stained with blood. There several young virgins, whose bodies had been ripped open, after they had satisfied the natural necessities of the Bulgarian heroes, breathed their last; while others, half-burned in the flames, begged to be dispatched out of the world. The ground about them was covered with the brains, arms, and legs of dead men."
graphic description of violence in a sort of naive realistic fashion, ignoring fashionable narrative.. probably reflection re: pointless slaughterof pop during thirty years war..
now THAT is special!
original lyrics that go with the above:
As they drew near the town they saw a Negro stretched on the ground with only one half of his habit, which was a kind of linen frock; for the poor man had lost his left leg and his right hand.
"Good God," said Candide in Dutch, "what dost thou here, friend, in this deplorable condition?"
"I am waiting for my master, Mynheer Vanderdendur, the famous trader," answered the Negro.
"Was it Mynheer Vanderdendur that used you in this cruel manner?"
"Yes, sir," said the Negro; "it is the custom here. They give a linen garment twice a year, and that is all our covering. When we labor in the sugar works, and the mill happens to snatch hold of a finger, they instantly chop off our hand; and when we attempt to run away, they cut off a leg. Both these cases have happened to me, and it is at this expense that you eat sugar in Europe; and yet when my mother sold me for ten patacoons on the coast of Guinea, she said to me, 'My dear child, bless our fetishes; adore them forever; they will make thee live happy; thou hast the honor to be a slave to our lords the whites, by which thou wilt make the fortune of us thy parents.'
"Alas! I know not whether I have made their fortunes; but they have not made mine; dogs, monkeys, and parrots are a thousand times less wretched than I. The Dutch fetishes who converted me tell me every Sunday that the blacks and whites are all children of one father, whom they call Adam. As for me, I do not understand anything of genealogies; but if what these preachers say is true, we are all second cousins; and you must allow that it is impossible to be worse treated by our relations than we are."
above: candide gets busted making out with the baron's daughter (chapter 1 - How Candide Was Brought Up in a Magnificent Castle and How He Was Driven Thence)
On her way back she happened to meet the young man; she blushed, he blushed also; she wished him a good morning in a flattering tone, he returned the salute, without knowing what he said. The next day, as they were rising from dinner, Cunegund and Candide slipped behind the screen. The miss dropped her handkerchief, the young man picked it up. She innocently took hold of his hand, and he as innocently kissed hers with a warmth, a sensibility, a grace-all very particular; their lips met; their eyes sparkled; their knees trembled; their hands strayed. The Baron chanced to come by; he beheld the cause and effect, and, without hesitation, saluted Candide with some notable kicks on the breech and drove him out of doors. The lovely Miss Cunegund fainted away, and, as soon as she came to herself, the Baroness boxed her ears.
pleasing essay about voltaire and pre-revolution france.
Every fraud was practiced under the guise of religion, and practiced with profit. Every crime that furthered the ends of the church was commended, or at least condoned. Every effort to crush those who protested was applauded. Freedom of discussion was prohibited. Intellectual life was decaying for want of expression and for lack of the sunlight of approval. Superstition was not only rampant; the very atmosphere was so laden with it that the people breathed it into their very being. Truly every man was afraid of his shadow. Every clap of thunder was an ominous warning, and every bolt of lightning, a flash of anger and vengeance.
Saints were multiplied and their bodies were sold in bits; each piece was highly treasured as separately efficacious. Their bones, teeth, eyelashes, and hair were of potent medicinal value.
biography here