May 29, 2026
Thanks to Alissa Simon, HMU Tutor, for today’s post.
Today’s blog continues a theme from the previous two weeks. You can find those blogs here and here.
I am still using chapter three of Candide as the basis for my definition of charity. Charity has many potential definitions such as “benevolent goodwill toward or love of humanity;” “generosity or helpfulness toward the needy or suffering;” or “the theological virtue by which humans love God above all things.” Charity can be synonymous with compassion, kindness, mercy, love, tenderness, goodwill, and more. The goodwill that James the Anabaptist offers to Candide in chapter three is selfless, recognizes the humanity of an outsider, and disrupts the pattern of ongoing evil (even if only momentarily). His actions demonstrate an actual love of humanity, not just an ideological one. I cannot help wondering, what does Candide take away from his time with James? It is likely that the answer might take the rest of the book.
In chapter 17, Candide and Cacambo enter el dorado. In this place, people need nothing. Children play with precious gems as if they’re toys. Food is plentiful. The community works together and supports each other. It sounds like a true garden of Eden. The reader, though, questions whether life is truly perfect here. For example, the governor claims that no one wants to leave el dorado, but then why do they have a law that states that no one is allowed to leave? Also, despite being in bliss, Candide would rather leave and find Cunegonde.
Whether or not el dorado is perfect doesn’t actually matter for Candide’s story. But it does raise the question as to whether charity is possible in a perfect world. I see two arguments here. In a perfect world, charity might be demonstrated by love, honor, and respect. To my mind, these emotions would be highly valued in any society, perfect or not. On the other hand, if it truly is a perfect world, charity would be completely unnecessary since all would be perfect already. It probably all depends upon how you define charity and how much responsibility you place on humans. Considering that Voltaire opens the book with a retelling of the Parable of a Good Samaritan, I assume that Voltaire wants the reader to realize that we are not in the best of all possible worlds. He also reminds us that charity is a necessary human action, regardless of what your day to day looks like. In Voltaire’s mind, humans must actively work to make the world a better place.
Candide and Cacambo eventually leave el dorado as rich men. They take sheep bundled with jewels to sell. On their path back to the shore (chapter 19), they encounter a dirty, maimed, ailing slave. When they question him, they learn about the brutal nature of slavery. After the slave tells his tale, Candide and Cacambo move on. Despite their new wealth and their incredible means, they don’t even offer him a bite of food.
I’m not sure why Voltaire puts this slave in their path but doesn’t enable them to help him. Perhaps Candide is not yet mature enough to see the need for charity. On the other hand, Candide may be so hardened by the world that he thinks helping the world is hopeless. Or quite possibly, he’s still enamored with Pangloss’s theory that this is the best of all possible worlds. If the latter is true, then despite the world’s outer appearance, it doesn’t need any help. Whatever their reasons, Candide and Cacambo leave the poor slave as he is and continue on their self-serving journey to find Cunegonde.
Ironically, when Candide and Cacambo part ways (also in chapter 19), Candide decides to find a new traveling companion. Many people apply for the job. So, Candide determines “that he would make a choice of that person who should appear to him the most deserving of compassion, and the most justly dissatisfied with his condition in life.” Having just abandoned the helpless slave, one wonders about Candide’s insight and motivations. He says that he wants to help humanity, and yet, when a person in need falls right into his path, he doesn’t realize that he has agency to help. Instead, he invents a reason to help someone. And then there’s the question as to whether or not traveling with Candide, whose life is filled with unpredictable twists and turns, is actually an improvement in circumstances.
He eventually chooses Martin, a poor scholar. On their journey back to the old land, many of Candide’s sheep are lost. Though he watches his fortune literally drown, he does retain enough money to travel in comfort. In fact, once Candide and Martin reach Venice, Candide has a couple of opportunities to share his wealth. When reunited with the prostitute Paquette, he gives her money which he assumes will cure all her ills. (He forgets that James not only gave him money, but took him in.) Later he notes with some frustration that he never heard what good fortune followed her after that donation. His view of charity is still limited.
In chapter twenty six, Candide dines with six deposed kings. Each king complains about the difficulties of being king and their fall from the throne. The final king’s tale moves Candide to offer money. All of the others gawk at his liberty. The other kings declare: “Who is this mere commoner…who is in a position to give a hundred times as much as each of us and who actually gives it?” With this exchange, Voltaire slams those people who have means to help others, but who refuse to give. Candide walks away from this scene contemplating charity. He asks Martin which of the six kings’ story was most pitiable? Though his companion refuses to answer, it proves that Candide himself is still thinking about charity.
At the end of the book, Candide is miraculously (and hilariously) reunited with everyone from his first years: Cunegonde and her old maid, Cunegonde’s brother (still referred to as the baron), and Pangloss the philosopher. They all agree to share a plot of land and work the land for a living. However, Cunegonde’s brother once again defies the idea of marriage between Cunegonde and Candide. For this, Candide exiles him to prison (without asking the clueless Cunegonde). Candide is merciless, but at least he has not killed anyone again. Although they have created a working community, it isn’t a life of bliss. Has Candide learned anything in the end? Has he overcome his own simplicity?
Perhaps satire isn’t meant to give answers, only beg more questions. For example: is charity linked to pity or empathy? If so, why does Candide so often feel pity but rarely offer charity? Or, is charity linked to notions of free will? Pangloss continually asserts that this is the best of all possible worlds, which means one should not intervene. But it also means that charity is unnecessary. In this scenario, free will does not exist. Is charity only possible in a world where free will exists? Finally, does charity actually benefit anyone? Candide, for example, survives only because of the goodwill of James and Cunegonde’s old maid. But is Candide better off now than he was in the beginning, is he better off because of their goodwill?
In classic Voltaire style, the answer might be both yes and no. He is alive, so that’s good. He has land, a little bit of money, a wife, and community. But after all of these things come to pass – all of these things that Candide wanted so desperately in the beginning – he no longer seems to desire them. Instead, Martin claims that work is the only way to make life bearable by removing “boredom, poverty, and vice.” The book concludes with Candide who says: “we must go and work in the garden.” At least he has realized that life demands active participation. In this final line, Candide seems to reject Pangloss’s view that this is the best of all possible worlds.
In my estimation, charity is not about giving until you have nothing left to give. Rather, it is a frame of mind that allows one to view others with compassion. In this ending, Candide marries Cunegonde despite the fact that she is no longer attractive to him. In other words, the romanticized notions have been removed from his mind and replaced with reality. He also works the land willingly alongside his fellow friends. He values his community and relies on them.
I must stop there, however, lest I take this potential reading too far. Candide is, after all, a satire, which makes it tough to draw strict conclusions. But satire also fills the journey with potential and this has been a fun detour through a work of classic literature.
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