đŸȘŽ Anil's Garden

Candide

12 Sept 20253 min read

Sadly I made these notes too late - writing on August 20th 2025, having read the book around the start of the year (February I would say). It was thoroughly enjoyable, much more fun than I had expected - a caper. It’s important not to take “great works of literature” too seriously. There’s a lot of buffoonery, sex, pillaging (much worse than it sounds) and adventure in this than you would think from a dusty old schoolmaster’s tone when he calls for you to read Voltaire.

One of the most moving things about the book is its ending: it culminates in a Turk (Muslim) who tells Candide to tend his garden. This is the importance of staying local, the meaning in the simple life, knowing your family, your community and not getting too big for your boots. This is where the soul and the mind get rich is my interpretation - I don’t think Voltaire just intended the soul.

Some quotes from the end that I like follow.

‘I have no idea,’ replied the fellow, ‘and I never have known what any mufti or vizier was called. What you have just told me means absolutely nothing to me. I have no doubt that in general those who get involved in public affairs do sometimes come to a sad end and that they deserve it. But I never enquire what’s going on in Constan-tinople. I am content to send my fruit for sale there from the garden I cultivate.’

Having said this, he invited the strangers into his house. His two daughters and two sons offered them several kinds of sorbet which they made themselves, some kamak sharpened with the zest of candied citron, some oranges, lemons, limes, pineapple, and pistachio nuts, and some Mocha coffee which had not been blended with that awful coffee from Batavia and the islands. After which the two daughters of this good Muslim perfumed the beards of Candide, Pangloss, and Martin.

‘You must have a vast and magnificent property,’ said Candide to the Turk.

“I have but twenty acres,’ replied the Turk. I cultivate them with my children. Work keeps us from three great evils: boredom, vice, and need.’

Candide, on his way back to his farm, thought long and hard about what the Turk had said, and commented to Pangloss and Martin:

‘That kind old man seems to me to have made a life for himself which is much preferable to that of those six kings with whom we had the honour of having supper.’




“I also know,” said Candide, “that we must cultivate our garden.”




“That is put well [
] but we must cultivate our garden”

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