land which suffered the
approach, and has scarcely yet allowed itself to comprehend the reality,
of the war of 1914, ought to know that there have been and are
Pangloss_otins_ of almost appalling variety. The book does not really
require the smatches of sculduddery, which he has smeared over it, to
be amusing; for its lifelikeness carries it through. As is well known,
Johnson admitted the parallel with _Rasselas_, which is among the most
extraordinary coincidences of literature. I have often wondered whether
anybody ever took the trouble to print the two together. There would be
many advantages in doing so; but they might perhaps be counter-balanced
by the fact that some of the most fervent admirers of _Rasselas_ would
be infinitely shocked by _Candide_, and that perhaps more of the special
lovers of _Candide_ would find themselves bored to extinction by
_Rasselas_. Let those who can not only value but enjoy both be thankful,
but not proud.

Many people have written about the Consolations of Old Age, not seldom,
it is to be feared, in a "Who's afraid?" sort of spirit. But there are a
few, an apple or two by the banks of Ulai, which we may pluck as the
night approaches. One is almost necessarily accidental, for it would be
rash and somewhat cold-blooded to plan it. It consists in the reading,
after many years, of a book once familiar almost to the point of knowing
by heart, and then laid aside, not from weariness or disgust, but merely
as things happened. This, as in some other books mentioned in this
history, was the case with the present writer in respect of _Candide_.
From twenty to forty, or thereabouts, I must have read it over and over
again; the sentences drop into their places almost without exercising
any effort of memory to recognise them. From forty to seventy I do not
think I read it at all; because no reason made reading necessary, and
chance left it untouched on the shelf. Sometimes, as everybody knows,
the result of renewed acquaintance in such cases is more or less severe
disappointment; in a few of the happiest, increased pleasure. But it is
perhaps the severest test of a classic (in the exact but limited sense
of that word) that its effect shall be practically unchanged, shall have
been established in the mind and taste with such a combination of
solidity and _nettete_, that no change is possible. I do not think I
have ever found this to be more the case than with the history of
Candide (who was such a