Voltaire's commentary on social inequality in Candide and pre-Revolutionary French society

Social Inequality and the Revolutionary Implications of Candide The revolutionary period which would be forthcoming in the decades following the scandal of Voltaire's work must first be understood in terms of the general disarray which consumed France in the political, social and economic contexts. 1789 is generally seen as the touchstone of the revolutionary era, with its chronological proximity to the recent American war for independence and its attendant constitutional doctrine playing a large part in inspiring this response to general discontent. The rigid class system which divided France into three distinctly unequal segments of nobility, clergy and peasantry-within which there were yet innumerable philosophical perspectives on how best to treat a France that was increasingly populated, gradually urbanizing and grossly inefficient as demonstrated by the poor economic conditions of so many-had doomed old France to inevitable decline. In fact, at this juncture, "when the King called for an Estates-General in 1789, the social tensions plaguing the old regime emerged as a central issue of the Revolution." (CHNM, 1) It was apparent that discontent with the inherent inequality in feudalism, catapulted by the revelations of the Enlightenment regarding natural rights, had reached a breaking point in France that would spill over into a decade of absolutely reckless, inchoate factionalism. Remarkably and presciently, Voltaire's Candide captures with acute insight the nature of the inequality which sent tremors through Europe and the horror of the violence which would spread in the wake of a many centuries repressed outburst of popular fury. Published well ahead of the French Revolution, Candide would capture in 1759 what was an increasing sense of dismay over life in the deeply unequal feudal system. In Voltaire's important satire of human hypocrisy, Candide, we are giving a humorous but shockingly blunt window into the starkly apparent absence of sense, and yet the indisputable manner in which policy may be carried out to the sole purpose of the retention of unchallenged power. When, for example, the titular protagonist of Voltaire's piece is sentenced to an auto-da-fe, it is dictated by the inquisitional Portuguese government that he and his companions were to be held responsible for an earthquake which had just then transpired. This type of open hostility for the intercession of government and Church would result in Candide entering the banned list both in France and according to the Catholic Church. Its popularity amongst the people and the enthusiastic reception of its thinly veiled disgust with aristocratic authoritarianism would demonstrate a clear resonance with the public. The transformation of the title character from the na?ve pupil of the foolishly optimistic Pangloss to a world weary witness of many horrors is devastating but inclines a clear revolutionary impression. Indeed, the work itself becomes a vocal criticism of the Panglossian idea that "'It is demonstrable. . . .that things cannot be otherwise than as they are; for as all things have been created for some end, they must necessarily be created for the best end.'" (Voltair, Ch. 1) This is a perspective which seems increasingly ludicrous in the face of war, carnage, inequality and exploitation, and indeed, encounters with such extreme pessimists as Martin do reveal this to be something of a farce. To the point, we come to view this as something of a template for the complacency which had allowed the inequality of feudalism to persist. The notion that there was some connection between a divine abolutism and the order of man would allow for a deeply unequal system to persist. It is not far into the novella though that a sense of discontent begins to emerge over the way of things and over the ideas provided by Pangloss. Guided by the desire throughout his life to be reunited with Cunegande, with whom he falls in love as a child, Candide is shown many of the worst miseries which the world can heap upon him. And if Candide and his fellow travelers are an avatar for the murmurings of discontent in French society during the dawn of the revolutionary era, than surely there is some remarkable relevance to the permeating doubt which begins to afflict Volaire's band of unfortunate subjects. So is this demonstrated in the well-placed words of Cunegande, who observes that "we are now going into another world, and surely it must be there that everything is for the best; for I must confess that we have had some little reason to complain of what passes in ours, both as to the physical and moral part. Though I have a sincere love for you . . . yet I still shudder at the reflection of what I have seen and experienced." (Voltaire, Ch. 10) This does sum up well the experience for Voltaire's subjects, who are greeted with violence, hardship and anarchy everywhere they venture, all the while seeking desperately to maintain an optimism and a cause of continuing the struggle. Where this concerns the inequality that was an ingrained part of European society at the time, Voltaire could be seen to have taken an extremely risky and bold step in publishing such a piece. Its targets are collectively the aristocratically heeled feudalist governments of Churches and Kings and the na?ve peoples who populated the common lands of France and Europe at large. In both, he observed a foolish contract by which the former exploited the latter while neither addressed the philosophical implications calling such institutions into question. To this extent, Voltaire would produce an inflammatory piece of political literature which would begin to voice with startling forthrightness the sensibilities of many Europeans, and in particular, of those who otherwise lacked the wherewithal to understand or speak these truths.