Candide

Candide by Voltaire

CHAPTER 1
How Candide Was Brought Up in a Magnificent Castle and How He
Was Driven Thence
In the country of Westphalia, in the castle of the most noble Baron of
Thunder-ten-tronckh, lived a youth whom Nature had endowed with a
most sweet disposition. His face was the true index of his mind. He had
a solid judgment joined to the most unaffected simplicity; and hence, I
presume, he had his name of Candide. The old servants of the house
suspected him to have been the son of the Baron's sister, by a very good
sort of a gentleman of the neighborhood, whom that young lady refused
to marry, because he could produce no more than threescore and eleven
quarterings in his arms; the rest of the genealogical tree belonging to
the family having been lost through the injuries of time.
The Baron was one of the most powerful lords in Westphalia, for his
castle had not only a gate, but even windows, and his great hall was
hung with tapestry. He used to hunt with his mastiffs and spaniels
instead of greyhounds; his groom served him for huntsman; and the
parson of the parish officiated as his grand almoner. He was called "My
Lord" by all his people, and he never told a story but everyone laughed
at it.
My Lady Baroness, who weighed three hundred and fifty pounds,
consequently was a person of no small consideration; and then she did
the honors of the house with a dignity that commanded universal
respect. Her daughter was about seventeen years of age, fresh-colored,
comely, plump, and desirable. The Baron's son seemed to be a youth in
every respect worthy of the father he sprung from. Pangloss, the
preceptor, was the oracle of the family, and little Candide listened to

his instructions with all the simplicity natural to his age and disposition.
Master Pangloss taught the metaphysico-theologo-cosmolonigology.
He could prove to admiration that there is no effect without a cause;
and, that in this best of all possible worlds, the Baron's castle was the
most magnificent of all castles, and My Lady the best of all possible
baronesses.
"It is demonstrable," said he, "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. Observe, for instance, the nose
is formed for spectacles, therefore we wear spectacles. The legs are
visibly designed for stockings, accordingly we wear stockings. Stones
were made to be hewn and to construct castles, therefore My Lord has a
magnificent castle; for the greatest baron in the province ought to be
the best lodged. Swine were intended to be eaten, therefore we eat pork
all the year round: and they, who assert that everything is right, do not
express themselves correctly; they should say that everything is best."
Candide listened attentively and believed implicitly, for he thought
Miss Cunegund excessively handsome, though he never had the
courage to tell her so. He concluded that next to the happiness of being
Baron of Thunder-ten-tronckh, the next was that of being Miss
Cunegund, the next that of seeing her every day, and the last that of
hearing the doctrine of Master Pangloss, the greatest philosopher of the
whole province, and consequently of the whole world.
One day when Miss Cunegund went to take a walk in a little
neighboring wood which was called a park, she saw, through the
bushes, the sage Doctor Pangloss giving a lecture in experimental
philosophy to her mother's chambermaid, a little brown wench, very
pretty, and very tractable. As Miss Cunegund had a great disposition
for the sciences, she observed with the utmost attention the experiments
which were repeated before her eyes; she perfectly well understood the
force of the doctor's reasoning upon causes and effects. She retired
greatly flurried, quite pensive and filled with the desire of knowledge,
imagining that she might be a sufficing reason for young Candide, and
he for her.

On her way back she happened to meet the young man; she blushed, he
blushed also; she wished him a good morning in a flattering tone, he
returned the salute, without knowing what he said. The next day, as
they were rising from dinner, Cunegund and Candide slipped behind
the screen. The miss dropped her handkerchief, the young man picked
it up. She innocently took hold of his hand, and he as innocently kissed
hers with a warmth, a sensibility, a grace-all very particular; their lips
met; their eyes sparkled; their knees trembled; their hands strayed. The
Baron chanced to come by; he beheld the cause and effect, and, without
hesitation, saluted Candide with some notable kicks on the breech and
drove him out of doors. The lovely Miss Cunegund fainted