Page:Candide Smollett E. P. Dutton.djvu/105

 others, into a pigmy? who makes him say the same thing over again a hundred times? who metamorphoses him into a school-divine? and who, by an absurdly serious imitation of Ariosto’s comic invention of fire-arms, represents the devils and angels cannonading each other in heaven? Neither I nor any other Italian can possibly take pleasure in such melancholy reveries; but the marriage of Sin and Death, and snakes issuing from the womb of the former, are enough to make any person sick that is not lost to all sense of delicacy, while his long description of a lazar-house is fit only for a gravedigger. This obscene, whimsical and disagreeable poem met with neglect at its first publication; and I only treat the author now as he was treated in his own country by his contemporaries.”

Candide was sensibly grieved at this speech, as he had a great respect for Homer and was very fond of Milton.

“Alas!” said he softly to Martin, “I am afraid this man holds our German poets in great contempt.”

“There would be no such great harm in that,” said Martin.

“O what a surprising man!” said Candide, still to himself; “what a prodigious genius is this Pococurante! nothing can please him.”

After finishing their survey of the library, they went down into the garden, when Candide commended the several beauties that offered themselves to his view.

“I know nothing upon earth laid out in such bad taste,” said Pococurante; “everything about it is childish and trifling; but I shall have another laid out tomorrow upon a nobler plan.”

As soon as our two travellers had taken leave of his Excellency, Candide said to Martin:

“I hope you will own that this man is the happiest of all mortals, for he is above everything he possesses.”

“But do not you see,” answered Martin, “that he likewise dislikes everything he possesses? It was an observation of Plato, long since, that those are not the best stomachs that reject, without distinction, all sorts of aliments.”

“True,” said Candide, “but still there must certainly be a pleasure in criticizing everything, and in perceiving faults where others think they see beauties.”

“That is,” replied Martin, “there is a pleasure in having no pleasure.” 1em