Candide was struck with amazement, and could not for the soul of him
conceive how he came to be a hero. One fine spring morning, he took it
into his head to take a walk, and he marched straight forward,
conceiving it to be a privilege of the human species, as well as of
the brute creation, to make use of their legs how and when they
pleased. He had not gone above two leagues when he was overtaken by
four other heroes, six feet high, who bound him neck and heels, and
carried him to a dungeon. A courtmartial sat upon him, and he was
asked which he liked better, to run the gauntlet six and thirty
times through the whole regiment, or to have his brains blown out with
a dozen musket-balls?
In vain did he remonstrate to them that the human will is free,
and that he chose neither; they obliged him to make a choice, and he
determined, in virtue of that divine gift called free will, to run the
gauntlet six and thirty times.
He had gone through his discipline twice, and the regiment being
composed of 2,000 men, they composed for him exactly 4,000 strokes,
which laid bare all his muscles and nerves from the nape of his neck
to his stern. As they were preparing to make him set out the third
time our young hero, unable to support it any longer, begged as a
favor that they would be so obliging as to shoot him through the head;
the favor being granted, a bandage was tied over his eyes, and he
was made to kneel down.
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