Comparing Candide And The Buddha

Parallel Formative Experiences of Candide and the Buddha Candide is a naïve young man, brought up in an idyllic home and with expectations of a princely future ahead of him. These fatuous pleasures, however, are swept away early on in the story, as he experiences a series of events that challenge his rosy outlook and eventually transform him into a more world-weary, somewhat wiser person. Similarly, “a young man on whom nature had bestowed the perfection of gentle manners” (100), could also describe the young Gautama Buddha, a sheltered prince who leaves the security of his court and is changed by the extremities of life he sees in the world outside. Both Candide and the Buddha grapple with the pain and turmoil of existence, until they relax

Candide’s initial encounter with this condition comes in the form of “… a beggar who was covered with pustules, his eyes were sunken, the end of his nose rotted off, his mouth twisted, his teeth black, he had a croaking voice and a hacking cough, and spat a tooth every time he tried to speak.” (105) With wickedly cynic humor, Voltaire reveals to us that this beggar is the perennially optimistic Pangloss. Not recognizing him, Candide gives the beggar money. Pangloss gratefully falls on Candide, who recoils in horror and wonders what happened. Yet his question regarding Pangloss’ fate, without waiting for an answer, is quickly followed by questions about Cunégonde. Candide’s reaction, unlike that of the Buddha, betrays that he remains fixated on the bloom of his desired Cunégonde. Candide faces more infirmities throughout his story, including that of the old woman who is missing a buttock due to cannibalism (118), and the disfigured slave who bleakly tells him that “If we catch a finger in the sugar mill where we work, they cut off our hand; if we try to run away, they cut off our leg: I have undergone both these experiences. This is the price of the sugar you eat in Europe.” (131) Here Voltaire reveals to the reader Candide’s empathy as he weeps for this complete

Unlike the Buddha, though, Candide has to learn these painful lessons over and over. Candide, who “was trembling like a philosopher” throughout the enormous battle in which tens of thousands died, shortly afterward appears to have forgotten the trauma when he tells another that “… all events are linked by the chain of necessity and arranged for the best” (104). Gradually, however, he frequently looks outside his paradigm for answers. The perfection of El Dorado prompts him to question Pangloss’ teaching that every scenario is the best possible, and he swears off metaphysico-theologico-cosmoloonigology for good after his exchange with the disfigured slave on arriving in Surinam (131). Both the Buddha and Candide find lasting comfort in finally letting go of the desires that simultaneously drive and torment them, and each in their own way end up renouncing the views of the world that they so naïvely held dear. There is something very sublime in the last line of the story, as Candide gently and cleverly brushes away Pangloss’ futile sophistry, saying, “That is very well put… but we must cultivate our garden.” (159) Although Voltaire may not have been intentionally invoking Buddhist philosophy, it is not hard to imagine Gautama saying the same to his