awful to look upon. Racked with dysentery and blackened with
scurvy, one hundred and forty wretched soldiers had been revived
with brandy and laid in bed.
My official friend Pangloss is lineally descended from a learned
doctor of that name, who was once tutor to Candide, an ingenious
young gentleman of some celebrity. In his personal character, he
is as humane and worthy a gentleman as any I know; in his official
capacity, he unfortunately preaches the doctrines of his renowned
ancestor, by demonstrating on all occasions that we live in the
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best of all possible official worlds.
‘In the name of Humanity,’ said I, ‘how did the men fall into this
deplorable state? Was the ship well found in stores?’
‘I am not here to asseverate that I know the fact, of my own
knowledge,’ answered Pangloss, ‘but I have grounds for asserting
that the stores were the best of all possible stores.’
A medical officer laid before us, a handful of rotten biscuit, and
a handful of split peas. The biscuit was a honeycombed heap of
maggots, and the excrement of maggots. The peas were even harder
than this filth. A similar handful had been experimentally boiled
six hours, and had shown no signs of softening. These were the
stores on which the soldiers had been fed.
‘The beef – ‘ I began, when Pangloss cut me short.
‘Was the best of all possible beef,’ said he.
But, behold, there was laid before us certain evidence given at the
Coroner’s Inquest, holden on some of the men (who had obstinately
died of their treatment), and from that evidence it appeared that
the beef was the worst of possible beef!
‘Then I lay my hand upon my heart, and take my stand,’ said
Pangloss, ‘by the pork, which was the best of all possible pork.’
‘But look at this food before our eyes, if one may so misuse the
word,’ said I. ‘Would any Inspector who did his duty, pass such
abomination?’
‘It ought not to have been passed,’ Pangloss admitted.
‘Then the authorities out there – ‘ I began, when Pangloss cut me
short again.
‘There would certainly seem to have been something wrong
somewhere,’ said he; ‘but I am prepared to prove that the
authorities out there, are the best of all possible authorities.’
I never heard of any impeached public authority in my life, who was
not the best public authority in existence.
‘We are told of these unfortunate men being laid low by scurvy,’
said I. ‘Since lime-juice has been regularly stored and served out
in our navy, surely that disease, which used to devastate it, has
almost disappeared? Was there lime-juice aboard this transport?’
My official friend was beginning ‘the best of all possible – ‘ when
an inconvenient medical forefinger pointed out another passage in
the evidence, from which it appeared that the lime-juice had been
bad too. Not to mention that the vinegar had been bad too, the
vegetables bad too, the cooking accommodation insufficient (if
there had been anything worth mentioning to cook), the water supply
exceedingly inadequate, and the beer sour.
‘Then the men,’ said Pangloss, a little irritated, ‘Were the worst
of all possible men.’
‘In what respect?’ I asked.
‘Oh! Habitual drunkards,’ said Pangloss.
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But, again the same incorrigible medical forefinger pointed out
another passage in the evidence, showing that the dead men had been
examined after death, and that they, at least, could not possibly
have been habitual drunkards, because the organs within them which
must have shown traces of that habit, were perfectly sound.
‘And besides,’ said the three doctors present, ‘one and all,
habitual drunkards brought as low as these men have been, could not
recover under care and food, as the great majority of these men are
recovering. They would not have strength of constitution to do
it.’
‘Reckless and improvident dogs, then,’ said Pangloss. ‘Always are
– nine times out of ten.’
I turned to the master of the workhouse, and asked him whether the
men had any money?
‘Money?’ said he. ‘I have in my iron safe, nearly four hundred