thirty thousand men engages another equal in size, there are about
twenty thousand infected with syphilis on each side."

  "Very surprising, indeed," said Candide, "but you must get cured."

  "Lord help me, how can I?" said Pangloss. "My dear friend, I have
not a penny in the world; and you know one cannot be bled or have an
enema without money."

  This last speech had its effect on Candide; he flew to the
charitable Anabaptist, James; he flung himself at his feet, and gave
him so striking a picture of the miserable condition of his friend
that the good man without any further hesitation agreed to take Dr.
Pangloss into his house, and to pay for his cure. The cure was
effected with only the loss of one eye and an ear. As be wrote a
good hand, and understood accounts tolerably well, the Anabaptist made
him his bookkeeper. At the expiration of two months, being obliged
by some mercantile affairs to go to Lisbon he took the two
philosophers with him in the same ship; Pangloss, during the course of
the voyage, explained to him how everything was so constituted that it
could not be better. James did not quite agree with him on this point.

  "Men," said he "must, in some things, have deviated from their
original innocence; for they were not born wolves, and yet they
worry one another like those beasts of prey. God never gave them
twenty-four pounders nor bayonets, and yet they have made cannon and
bayonets to destroy one another. To this account I might add not
only bankruptcies, but the law which seizes on the effects of
bankrupts, only to cheat the creditors."

  "All this was indispensably necessary," replied the one-eyed doctor,
"for private misfortunes are public benefits; so that the more private
misfortunes there are, the greater is the general good."

  While he was arguing in this manner, the sky was overcast, the winds
blew from the four quarters of the compass, and the ship was
assailed by a most terrible tempest, within sight of the port of
Lisbon.

  CHAPTER 5

  A Tempest, a Shipwreck, an Earthquake, and What Else Befell Dr.

    Pangloss, Candide, and James, the Anabaptist

  One half of the passengers, weakened and half-dead with the
inconceivable anxiety and sickness which the rolling of a vessel at
sea occasions through the whole human frame, were lost to all sense of
the danger that surrounded them. The others made loud outcries, or
betook themselves to their prayers; the sails were blown into
shreds, and the masts were brought by the board. The vessel was a
total wreck. Everyone was busily employed, but nobody could be
either heard or obeyed. The Anabaptist, being upon deck, lent a
helping hand as well as the rest, when a brutish sailor gave him a
blow and laid him speechless; but, not withstanding, with the violence
of the blow the tar himself tumbled headforemost overboard, and fell
upon a piece of the broken mast, which he immediately grasped.

  Honest James, forgetting the injury he had so lately received from
him, flew to his assistance, and, with great difficulty, hauled him in
again, but, not withstanding, in the attempt, was, by a sudden jerk of
the ship, thrown overboard himself, in sight of the very fellow whom
he had risked his life to save and who took not the least notice of
him in this distress. Candide, who beheld all that passed and saw
his benefactor one moment rising above water, and the next swallowed
up by the merciless waves, was preparing to jump after him, but was
prevented by the philosopher Pangloss, who demonstrated to him that
the roadstead of Lisbon had been made on purpose for the Anabaptist to
be drowned there. While he was proving his argument a priori, the ship
foundered, and the whole crew perished, except Pangloss, Candide,
and the sailor who had been the means of drowning the good Anabaptist.
The villain swam ashore; but Pangloss and Candide reached the land
upon a plank.

  As soon as they had recovered from their surprise and fatigue they
walked towards Lisbon; with what little money they had left they
thought to save themselves from starving after having escaped
drowning.

  Scarcely had they ceased to lament the loss of their benefactor
and set foot in the city, when they perceived that the earth
trembled under their feet, and the sea, swelling and foaming in the
harbor, was dashing in pieces the vessels that were riding at
anchor. Large sheets of flames and cinders covered the streets and
public places; the houses tottered, and were tumbled topsy-turvy
even to their foundations, which were themselves destroyed, and thirty
thousand inhabitants of both sexes, young and old, were buried beneath
the ruins.

  The sailor, whistling and swearing, cried, "Damn it, there's
something to be got here."

  "What can be the sufficing reason of this phenomenon?" said
Pangloss.

  "It is certainly the day of judgment," said Candide.

  The sailor, defying death in the pursuit of plunder, rushed into the
midst of the ruin, where he found some money, with which he got drunk,
and, after he had slept himself sober he purchased the favors of the