Okay, no one said satire is pretty.
Some of you on Friday remarked about the bullet train pace of the book. So a valid question (often asked when we read this book in class) is "why?" In the space of twenty-some pages, the action has moved from Germany to Holland to Portugal, to Spain, and now Candide, Cunegonde, and the old woman are on their way to the New World, Paraguay. In these few pages, we've seen 30,000 soldiers be heroically butchered; 30,000 "inhabitants without regard to age or sex...crushed" in the earthquake of Lisbon; a Biscayan who married a godparent and two Portuguese Jews who didn't eat bacon burned to death, Pangloss, recovered from his venereal disease, hanged, and Candide flogged again in an auto-da-fe (act of faith) to prevent a follow-up earthquake (it fails). Cunegonde has survived seeing her family slaughtered, disembowelment and raped ("these things are not always fatal," she informs us), becoming the property of a Bulgar captain who sells her to Don Issacar who shares her with the Grand Inquisitor of Portugal. Candide kills one, then the other, in the space of two minutes—after all, as he says, "I already embarked on killing." The old woman keeps reminding us that she only has "one buttock for a seat," was once more beautiful than, it would seem, anyone in the known world ("the women who dressed and undressed me fell back in ecstasies when they gazed upon me, from whichever angle, and all the men would have wished to be in their place"). She too sees her mother and servants slaughtered, experiences cavity search ("it is one article of international law that is never neglected"), survives the killing of all her captors and captives to awaken to a man bemoaning the absence of his testicles. Whew! Just typing that took me fifteen minutes.
We know from reading the notes and from our discussion on Friday that Voltaire is taking the philosophy of optimism to task, and more specifically, the philosophy as laid out by Leibniz. But this isn't why we read the book today (except in a philosophy class); or should I say, this isn't why I read and teach the novel. I think it's funny and provocative and disturbing and profound and relevant to our time. So that's one answer to "why?"
1. So, for you, what is the book addressing—besides Leibniz? (Remember: a satire holds up human vices and follies to ridicule and scorn) So for you, what is its essential, fundamental, question (or questions)? And what specfically in the book so far leads you to this assertion? Go ahead and quote in your response.
2. What moment in this reading jumped out at you? How so? Go ahead and quote in your response.
Write a couple hundred words for the questions. Mira and Stuart: remember to get the Theo Cuffe translation. And finally, for another satire, silly, stupid, and funny as it may be, here is a clip from 2004's Team America: World Police, the work of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, creators of South Park and The Book of Mormon—and even then they were exercising their musical chops, as we see here.
Parker and Stone use both satire and parody (making fun of a particular type of work). Not subtle, but funny and pointed.
1. I think that the book is also addressing the ridiculousness of war and violence. Voltaire seems to take great care in emphasizing the frivolousness of the motivations behind most of the horrendous acts perpetrated throughout the story. I’ll give a few examples: for one, the executions of the godfather and the two Jews who didn’t eat the bacon garnish on their chicken. These are entirely victimless crimes, and the punishment is way out of proportion. However, this example doesn’t carry quite as much weight as some of the others, because the cruelty of the inquisition is well known and characteristic of the catholic church of the time. More significant by far is Candide’s murder of the Inquisitor, which was not motivated by self-defense so much as by the fact that he’d already killed once today, so might as well kill again. Another example is the drawn-out conflict between the bulgars and the abares, who just keep slaughtering thousands of civilians for no apparent reason. There is just so much superfluous death in the 20 or so pages we’ve read. I think that, while this carnage can be interpreted as a criticism of leibniz, it’s also more broadly about violence and the motivations behind it.
ReplyDelete2. The moment that really struck me was Candide’s comment at the beginning of chapter ten: “‘The good Pangloss often demonstrated to me,’ said Candide with a sigh, ‘that the things of this world are common to all men, and that everyone has an equal right to them. In which case, this Franciscan ought at least to have left us enough to finish our journey’”(23). I find it hard to believe that, even after all that has happened, Candide still trusts Pangloss’ words of wisdom. I mean, I get that this is a satire and that it’s supposed to be ridiculous and controversial, but seriously. Candide is a heavily indoctrinated idiot. Also, I think this thinly veiled critique of Rousseau is really funny. I love how satire can apply a theory to certain situations to emphasize its more ridiculous elements.
1. So far, this book has seemed to partially address the question of what are the motivations for people's actions. Of course, that ties into the Leibniz issue as well. However, I think the book goes further than just making of fun of that one philosophy. The book also reveals the hypocrisy of religious leaders who are constantly killing and hurting people. Philosophy and religion are two large motivators for how a large group of people act and how they think. This illogical philosophy and corrupt leaders are heavily influencing the way all the people in this world think, and that causes the other people in this world to do things for the wrong reasons. When the University decides to burn people alive to prevent earthquakes, and they say it’s a "magnificent auto-da-fe" readers can see people committing murder and justifying it with 'good intentions'. The kind characters, like the old woman who helps Candide, have yet to reveal their motivations for being good people. Every time Candide asks the old woman "what makes you so kind to me?" she will not respond. Either she has some personal connection to Candide that means she wants to improve his wellbeing, or she has some alternative motivation outside these corrupt religious leaders and crazy philosophers.
ReplyDelete2. The moment that most stuck out to me was when Candide kills the Cardinal. Moments before he had already killed a man, and then he kills another person to cover his tracks. Candide thinks, "I've got into the way of killing people. There's no time to hesitate" . It was amazing how fast this transition took place. Originally, Candide was a 'pure' guy, he tried not to perpetrate violence if possible. Suddenly, in this one scene, he has murdered two people and he accepts it as his place now. It seemed like a fast and strange turn of events. If we view this story like a fairy tale, Candide's actions are a out of the ordinary. Generally, in fairy tales, the protagonist doesn't do anything nearly as terrible as killing someone who is not attacking him. Obviously, Candide had some other reason to kill the Cardinal, but it was still unexpected. I think his actions go along with a trend in the story. People get swept up in horrific things (sacrifice, murder, rape) because of the world around them and their situation (that doesn't make their actions any better, just more understandable).
1. I think that the book is addressing several questions: violence, suffering, power, religion, the meaning (or lack of meaning) in life. I accidentally read chapter 12, and I think that the meaninglessness of life is a strong theme in the old woman’s story. She says,”A hundred times I have wanted to kill myself, but I was still in love with life […] in a word, to caress the serpent that devours us, until it has eaten away out heart?” (31). Why do we value life? If there is so much pain associated with being alive (and in this book the suffering is enormous), then what is the point in wanting to live? Why not just let go? The old woman poses this question at the end of her tragic story, but she never answers it. I hope that we get more of Volataire’s opinion on this as we continue reading, because I think it is a vital question. Now, because I wasn’t supposed to read chapter 12 I will also talk about violence, because that was especially prevalent in chapter 11 and in Cunégonde’s story (actually, it is the central action in this book—almost every sentence includes if not violence, suffering of some sort). The old woman’s life is the epitome of juxtaposition: she goes from the most lovely existence, with want for nothing, to being buried under a pile of “blood-soaked corpses” (27). She is only fifteen years old and yet she experiences enough horror for a many lifetimes. The absurdity of the wrongs that are done to her, and to Cunégonde are, in my opinion, a critique of war, of violence and abuse in general. The old woman describes Morocco: “It was uninterrupted carnage from one end of the empire to the other” (27). The amount of violence in this book is so ridiculous that it ends up not having the power it does in real life—we feel sympathy when we hear about violence but in this book there is just too much, so we simply have to read over it as if it is somehow normal. By desensitizing his audience to violence, Voltaire critiques the bloodthirsty actions of so many people.
ReplyDelete2. The moment in this reading that jumped out to me was the last line: “O che sciagura dresser sense coglioni!”. I found it funny—I actually laughed—because it was such an absurd ending to a chapter (several chapters) of absurdity. We think that everything bad that could possibly happen has happened to these characters, but of course we forgot about castration.
It's funny how we always forget about castration, isn't it?
ReplyDelete1) I think this book is also about the pointlessness of violence. Fighting is constant in the story, yet nothing is ever accomplished. Most of the time there is no real reason for conflict besides the possibility of conflict. Is not eating bacon really a reason to kill someone? What did their execution accomplish? Did it prove a point? I guess no one will ever not eat their bacon again. The best word to describe violence in the story, and war more specifically, is futile. Violence solves nothing, and serves only to spark more violence. “’…he has already had me mercilessly whipped; he is now my rival; I am already embarked on killing; there is no choice.’” The inquisitor is killed because he whipped Candide. Candide’s killing causes him to kill more. Señor Don Issacar dies because he tries to kill Candide. In every example, violence only prompts more and more violence.
ReplyDelete2) What stood out to me the most was the exchange between Cunégonde and the old woman. It seemed almost as if they bragging about being the most unfortunate. “Cunégonde was on the verge of laughter, finding it very droll of this good creature to claim to be twice as unfortunate than herself.” Laughter? It's almost as if they are telling these stories just to prove something to each other. That somehow they are more important than someone else because they went through more misfortune. Also, the old woman's story made me wonder why everyone is somehow of some type of royalty or importance. Not everyone can have seventy-one quarterings.
1. Candide addresses the incredible, absurd violence that takes place in the world. Everything is cause for violence - earthquakes, war, lust, conquest, and religion. Everyone who takes non-violent approaches is killed soon after in some horrible way. Even Candide, our peaceful and simple protagonist, kills two men with a sword. Everyone in the book who isn’t killing and torturing people is BEING killed and tortured.”But [rape and disembowelment] aren’t always fatal,” remarks Cunegonde, as though “this sort of thing” is common place. In a similarly nonchalant tone, she says “I tried to tear out the eyes of that huge Bulgar, not realizing what what was taking place in my father’s castle was the form on such occasions.” Rape and torture are the proper “form”?! The extent and intensity of violence in this book is in itself absurd because it’s so prevalent. I believe Candide is asking why people do such horrible things, and why those who don’t do them accept them as normal behavior.
ReplyDelete2. Candide killing the two men really stood out to me because it isn’t something I thought he would ever do. I believed that, when confronted with something deadly, he would simply accept it as “meant to be,” or at least refuse to enact harm, but instead Candide reasons his way through the likely events and kills the two men to prevent it. He saves himself, he saves Cunegonde, and maybe even saves the old woman, from two murderous rapists. In most stories this would be a victory, but here it seems like Candide is…. giving in. He is adapting to the cruelty of the world by responding with violence, and it actually works! Why did Voltaire make violence a good solution?
1. I think that Voltaire is focusing on the fact that people view senseless violence and suffering as a normal and even necessary part of life. For example, when Cunégonde is telling Candide the story about how the Bulgars attacked the castle, she says, “what was taking place in my father’s castle was the custom on such occasions” (19). Raping and disemboweling someone is the customary thing to do. Obviously, most people do not want to be raped and disemboweled so why is it the customary thing to do in this society? I think Voltaire is thinking about why violence is such a routine part of life and that people are expected to commit violent acts. Also he seems to focus on the idea of cruel and even absurd punishments such as Candide having to choose between getting flogged 72,000 or be shot in the head 12 times. The punishments that the Inquisitors carried out in Lisbon were also excessively harsh and absurd. Violent punishment, like violent warfare, is the custom of this society but for what purpose?
ReplyDelete2. What stood out to me was how Candide is still managing to cling to Pangloss’s philosophy even after Cunégonde is almost completely sure she no longer believes it. Candide believes that the New World must be the best of all possible worlds because he has found it hard to believe that the Old World is the best. “‘For you have to admit, there is reason to blench at some of what goes on in our world, whether physically or morally,’” (24) Candide says. He continues with “‘The sea of this new world is already superior to our European seas; it is calmer, its trade winds more constant. No doubt about it, the New World is the best of all possible worlds.’” (24) He has not even been to this new world yet because of Pangloss’s words he is already sure, beyond a doubt, that it is the best possible world. This reminds me of how people think that heaven is the best possible place even when they haven’t been there.
1. I think Candide addresses the meaning and purpose of things in the world and whether or not everything can be justified. The death of Pangloss left Candide to questioning his world and how "perfect" Pangloss thought it was. Candide says, "If this is the best of all possible worlds, what must the others be like?" (16) To me this implies that he's looking outside of what he's been taught and to other possibilities and interpretations of the world. I think the text also speaks to all the violence. People are being killed so casually left and right as if it's nothing. It's like for every character that's introduced, at least three others die off. I think Candide is subtly drawing attention to this with the gruesome descriptions and the prevalence of violence in each chapter, which is really saying something considering how short and brief the chapters are.
ReplyDelete2. The moment that jumped out to me was the pirates sticking their fingers in the rectums of the old lady and her family. I just thought it was so nonchalantly slipped in her story that I almost read over it not really processing what I read. This routine was just really uncomfortable to read and left me disturbed. I also thought it was interesting that the old lady was basically comparing their struggles. I felt like more could be achieved if they realized that both situations were equally terrible and that something should be done about it.
1. I think the book addresses the senseless of people's actions especially in the name of God/religion. Unnecessary violence is waged on innocent people for simply not believing in the same doctrines as the Catholic Church. And what's worse is that after the two supposed Jews and the man who married his godparent were killed, nothing changed; “that same day the earth quaked once more with a terrifying din” (16). It also becomes clear to Candide that the world was in fact not great, and all the deaths seemed reasonless. But even after having this semi-breakthrough, Candide goes on to kill senselessly himself. Though his killings don't compare to that of other people in this world, it in someways is worse. It seems to me that Candide should've been better because he already started to see the world for what it really was. I guess that plays to the idea that corruptness of the world is too much for most people to fight against.
ReplyDelete2. The part that stood out to me was when Candide asked the old woman “who has inspired such kindness in you?” (17). Candide doesn't understand what could make her that way and considering the world he's living in, it's not surprising that he feels the need to ask. The woman's backstory and her character also stood out to me because it shows that she is different from most people. Having went through all that she did and still being able to be kind is something that I would assume is very rare in this world. She was able to overcome her terrible past and not let her pain get the best of her and she instead lead a positive life.
I believe Voltaire questions the importance, necessity, and legitimacy of established institutions and powers. As evidenced in the first reading, Voltaire describes the aristocracy in a frivolous light, ever so concerned with appearances. Again, in these past few chapters, he critiques them mercilessly, primarily through the story of the old woman. She describes herself the decadence and the superfluousness of her class: “I was brought up in a castle so splendid that all the castles of your German barons would not have served it as a stable, and one of my robes would have bought half the province of Westphalia” (Morley Translation, 41). She also lends insight to the ingratitude and emotional separation aristocrats possess: she dismisses the sonnets that “all Italy composed,” citing that they were below her standards, her husband's former mistress murders him presumably over jealousy, and her mother and her feel that the death of the husband was merely a “trifle.” Voltaire suggests that if these feudal lords and ladies are this aloof, do they possess the knowledge and judgment to rule? Another target of Voltaire's wrath is the Church, in whatever form it may take. The Grand Inquisitor, in charge of maintaining Catholic heterodoxy throughout Portugal “ogled [her] all the time of service” (34), and then attempted to seduce, in partnership with Don Issachar, her by locking her up in a palace. Additionally, one of the primary purposes of the Portuguese and Spanish inquisitions was to root out Jews who merely adopted Catholicism as a cover for their faith, so it is ironic that the Grand Inquisitor refuses to outright kill Don Issachar, instead using his Jewish faith as a means of leverage for his personal gain. Other attacks against the integrity of the church can be found throughout the chapter, such as when Candide and his groups determine that reverend Father Cordelier must have stolen Cunegonde's jewelry. Voltaire also targets the efficacy of the emerging nation-states and the otherizing perspectives they promote. One such example of the ludicrous nature of such a “us vs. them” mentality is when Pangloss reassures Candide that all is good despite the destruction of Thunder-ten-Tronkch, for the Abares had burned an adjacent Bulgarian Barony. Voltaire then exposes the poor management of many of these countries when he describes how Candide was able to win a lieutenancy by performing a military march.
ReplyDeleteSomething that jumped out at me was the character development that Candide undergoes. I had expected that Candide would remain relatively flat so to better serve as a backdrop for Voltaire's critiques, but Voltaire somehow captures a change in Candide. While earlier he had seemed more submissive, allowing himself to be forcefully drafted into the Bulgarian army and be brainwashed to think he was a “hero,” now he murders those who stand in his way. Cunegonde summarizes: “How could you, who are of so mild a temper, kill a Jew and an Inquisitor in two minutes time?” (38). Candide acknowledges this change: “When a man is in love... her is no longer himself” (38).
1. While Voltaire seems to be critiquing specific aspects of society - like the philosophy of Leibniz, war, religion, or rape I think these are part of a wider critique of the human desire for power. Whether it is war or religion, I think the arbitrary nature of the atrocities shown in Candide highlights how Voltaire might want us to see the desire for power as a major source of evil in the world. However, at the same time I think the book strongly critiques complacency. Pangloss' philosophy of complacency is continually shown to complete nonsense, especially when he almost drowns in the Bay of Lisbon because he spends too much time talking about how god meant it to be that way. This seems to be part of a larger tension in Candide between fate and free will - the example of Candide taking a walk in the war camp comes to mind. Examples like Jacques suggest that there are good ways to wield power, in support of virtue, and thus imply that not all power is bad. Possibly Voltaire is attempting to critique how we have a sense of inevitability in the world, that everything will be the way it is and humans themselves have no real agency - thus, Voltaire would be saying that we need to try and exercise power in a good way even if everything seems stacked against you.
ReplyDelete2. One moment that jumped out at me was when Cunegonde was talking to Candide about her rape, and Candide interrupts her to say "I would much like to see it!" "It" being the bruise that Cunegonde received from her rapist - I was hoping that Candide's love for Cunegonde would somehow help him see real tragedy in the event instead of having the exact same reaction to every other atrocity throughout the play, complacency. So, it seems that love is not the antidote to complacency, unless Candide's love isn't pure; it seems to be a more innocent, childish kind of love than anything else.
1. This book satirizes just about all humans. Like we said in class, there's mockery both of those who want power over others and the complacent, like Pangloss. We see Voltaire mercilessly beating up on Pangloss's optimism with the more decisive and selfish individuals. Pangloss says everything will be fine, and does nothing. When we see the sailor Jaques the anabaptist saved run rampant through Lisbon, Pangloss "Caught him by the sleeve: 'My friend,' he said, 'this is no way to behave. You are flouting the laws of universal reason, and this is hardly the time or place.' - 'Hell and damnation!' replied the other, 'I am a sailor born in Batavia; I've made four voyages to Japan, and four times I've trampled on the cross; you've picked the wrong man, with your drivel about universal reason'" (14)! There are only people who will do nothing or anything for what they want. As a result, the optimists make excuses as they are run over by everyone else.
ReplyDelete2. The old woman's story as a whole is remarkable to say the least. There's also less sugarcoating in it than in most of the book so far. Even if that sugarcoating is usually sarcastic, it's there, and her racism means that she's not about to make justifications for the Moroccans. It's not significantly more brutal than the other violence in this book so far. However, it both lacks that facade of honor and points toward the "wider human thing" we talked about today in class.