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 culous light; and as if the author of the Poem on the Disaster of Lisbon could be characterised as indifferent to the sufferings of humanity! But Voltaire has suffered many things of many critics.

'Candide' seems to have been but little understood on its first appearance, being regarded as a mere narrative of adventure; but it has come to be considered by many as the writer's cleverest work. A few extracts will serve to show how the plan was executed:—

"He was named Candide because he had, with a sound judgment, a simple mind. He was supposed to be the nephew of the Baron with whom he lived, and who was one of the most powerful lords in Westphalia, for his chateau had a door and windows. The preceptor Pangloss, the oracle of the house, taught the metaphysico-theologo-cosmolonigologie. 'It is demonstrable,' said he, 'that things could not be otherwise; for all being done for an end, all is necessarily for the best end. Observe well that noses are made to carry spectacles—and we have spectacles. Legs are visibly instituted for breeches—and we have breeches. Stones have been formed to be hewed and to make chateaus—and my lord the Baron has a very fine chateau; pigs were made to be eaten—and we eat pork all the year round; consequently those who have affirmed that all is well have uttered a folly; what ought to be said is, that all is the best.'"

From this best of all possible chateaus Candide is expelled for making love to Miss Cunegonde, the baron's daughter, and is presently inveigled into enlisting in the service of the King of Bulgaria; and after undergoing some dreadful military punishments,

"he had already a little skin, and could march again, when the King of the Bulgarians gave battle to the King of the Abares.

"Nothing could be so fine, so smart, so brilliant, so well