Candide, Micromegas and Zadig by Voltaire

*contains spoilers*


Candide begins with a real event, an earthquake that (actually took place in 1755 and) rocks the foundations of Lisbon, and continues on with the many others that set off the fictional twists and turns of the plot. Candide, our hero, is the ultimate tabula rasa, and upon this white sheet our storyteller Voltaire (born François-Marie Arouet in 1694) projects many philosophical quandaries: fate, luck, coincidence, God(s), love, innocence, practicality, harmony, work, idleness, the value of money, time… All of these notions are raised and put to the test (if not entirely answered) as the naïve Candide escapes the constant threat of death at the hands of barbarism and religious zealots in search of his beloved Cunégonde. We have the foolish but self-assured Pangloss, the doggedly loyal and pragmatic Cacambo, the wise and practical elderly woman, and the downtrodden Martin, who aptly counters Pangloss’s foolish optimism with a yet equalled foolhardy dissatisfaction.


What struck me so much on reading Voltaire’s work for the first time was how his obvious wit cut through all the lofty suggestions and ponderings, as is evidenced in another of his tales, ‘Micromegas’. Micromegas, a being of as great a size as intellect, travels from his home star of Sirius to our own solar system and, on finding a Saturnian whom he befriends, decides to venture with him to Earth to have a look around. This Saturnian, whilst also being much larger than the amoebic earthlings, is still much smaller than Micromegas, and whilst bringing home to us our relative insignificance in this vast and unfathomable universe, Voltaire manages to weigh down such gloriously elevating profundity by cutting right down to it; “Unfortunately, however, a little animalcule in academic dress was present…He said he knew the answer…He looked the two celestial inhabitants up and down and told them that everything, their persons, their worlds, their suns, their stars, had been made uniquely for man. On hearing this, our two travellers fell about, choking with that irresistible laughter…”


Indeed, hubris is something Voltaire seems keen to strip back and lay bare. In ‘Zadig’, there is always a king, a merchant, a slave-trader, a robber, or anyone, who values his place above the others. Like Candide, Zadig faces his trials and uses his wit and his wits to scrape through, though, unlike Candide, who finds contentment amongst his friends and through his work on his farm, Zadig is seen to struggle only further and further down the line, even as he obtains his position as King of Babylon. Hence, we are left with the sobering reminder that characters, just like people, never really reach the end of their own story; “’Let us depart, and we shall see what my sorry destiny still has in store for me.’”

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