Chapter I
Original French
Comment le prieur de Notre-Dame de la Montagne et mademoiselle sa soeurrencontrèrent un Huron.
Un jour saint Dunstan, Irlandais de nation et saint de profession,partit d’Irlande sur une petite montagne qui vogua vers les côtes deFrance, et arriva par cette voiture à la baie de Saint-Malo. Quand ilfut à bord, il donna la bénédiction à sa montagne, qui lui fit deprofondes révérences, et s’en retourna en Irlande par le même cheminqu’elle était venue.
Dunstan fonda un petit prieuré dans ces quartiers-là, et lui donna lenom de prieuré de la Montagne, qu’il porte encore, comme un chacunsait.
En l’année 1689, le 15 juillet au soir, l’abbé de Kerkabon, prieur deNotre-Dame de la Montagne, se promenait sur le bord de la mer avecmademoiselle de Kerkabon, sa soeur, pour prendre le frais. Le prieur,déjà un peu sur l’âge, était un très bon ecclésiastique, aimé de sesvoisins, après l’avoir été autrefois de ses voisines. Ce qui lui avaitdonné surtout une grande considération, c’est qu’il était le seulbénéficier du pays qu’on ne fût pas obligé de porter dans son lit quandil avait soupé avec ses confrères. Il savait assez honnêtement dethéologie; et quand il était las de lire saint Augustin, il s’amusaitavec Rabelais: aussi tout le monde disait du bien de lui.
Mademoiselle de Kerkabon, qui n’avait jamais été mariée, quoiqu’elleeût grande envie de l’être, conservait de la fraîcheur à l’âge dequarante-cinq ans; son caractère était bon et sensible; elle aimait leplaisir et était dévote.
Le prieur disait à sa soeur, en regardant la mer: Hélas! c’est ici ques’embarqua notre pauvre frère avec notre chère belle-soeur madame deKerkabon, sa femme, sur la frégate l’Hirondelle, en 1669, pour allerservir en Canada. S’il n’avait pas été tué, nous pourrions espérer dele revoir encore.
Croyez-vous, disait mademoiselle de Kerkabon, que notre belle-soeur aitété mangée par les Iroquois, comme on nous l’a dit? Il est certain quesi elle n’avait pas été mangée, elle serait revenue au pays. Je lapleurerai toute ma vie; c’était une femme charmante; et notre frère quiavait beaucoup d’esprit aurait fait assurément une grande fortune.
Comme ils s’attendrissaient l’un et l’autre à ce souvenir, ils virententrer dans la baie de Rance un petit bâtiment qui arrivait avec lamarée: c’étaient des Anglais qui venaient vendre quelques denrées deleur pays. Ils sautèrent à terre, sans regarder monsieur le prieur nimademoiselle sa soeur, qui fut très choquée du peu d’attention qu’onavait pour elle.
Il n’en fut pas de même d’un jeune homme très bien fait qui s’élançad’un saut par-dessus la tête de ses compagnons, et se trouva vis-à-vismademoiselle. Il lui fit un signe de tête, n’étant pas dans l’usage defaire la révérence. Sa figure et son ajustement attirèrent les regardsdu frère et de la soeur. Il était nu-tête et nu-jambes, les piedschaussés de petites sandales, le chef orné de longs cheveux en tresses,un petit pourpoint qui serrait une taille fine et dégagée; l’airmartial et doux. Il tenait dans sa main une petite bouteille d’eau desBarbades, et dans l’autre une espèce de bourse dans laquelle était ungobelet et de très bon biscuit de mer. Il parlait français fortintelligiblement. Il présenta de son eau des Barbades à mademoiselle deKerkabon et à monsieur son frère; il en but avec eux: il leur en fitreboire encore, et tout cela d’un air si simple et si naturel, que lefrère et la soeur en furent charmés. Ils lui offrirent leurs services,en lui demandant qui il était et où il allait. Le jeune homme leurrépondit qu’il n’en savait rien, qu’il était curieux, qu’il avait vouluvoir comment les côtes de France étaient faites, qu’il était venu, etallait s’en retourner.
Monsieur le prieur jugeant à son accent qu’il n’était pas Anglais, pritla liberté de lui demander de quel pays il était. Je suis Huron, luirépondit le jeune homme.
Mademoiselle de Kerkabon, étonnée et enchantée de voir un Huron qui luiavait fait des politesses, pria le jeune homme à souper; il ne se fitpas prier deux fois, et tous trois allèrent de compagnie au prieuré deNotre-Dame de la Montagne.
La courte et ronde demoiselle le regardait de tous ses petits yeux, etdisait de temps en temps au prieur: Ce grand garçon-là a un teint delis et de rose! qu’il a une belle peau pour un Huron! Vous avez raison,ma soeur, disait le prieur. Elle fesait cent questions coup sur coup,et le voyageur répondait toujours fort juste.
Le bruit se répandit bientôt qu’il y avait un Huron au prieuré. Labonne compagnie du canton s’empressa d’y venir souper. L’abbé deSaint-Yves y vint avec mademoiselle sa soeur, jeune basse-brette, fortjolie et très bien élevée. Le bailli, le receveur des tailles, et leursfemmes furent du souper. On plaça l’étranger entre mademoiselle deKerkabon et mademoiselle de Saint-Yves. Tout le monde le regardait avecadmiration; tout le monde lui parlait et l’interrogeait à-la-fois; leHuron ne s’en émouvait pas. Il semblait qu’il eût pris pour sa devisecelle de milord Bolingbroke, Nihil admirari. Mais à la fin, excédé detant de bruit, il leur dit avec assez de douceur, mais avec un peu defermeté: Messieurs, dans mon pays on parle l’un après l’autre; commentvoulez-vous que je vous réponde quand vous m’empêchez de vous entendre?La raison fait toujours rentrer les hommes en eux-mêmes pour quelquesmoments: il se fit un grand silence. Monsieur le bailli, qui s’emparaittoujours des étrangers dans quelque maison qu’il se trouvât, et quiétait le plus grand questionneur de la province, lui dit en ouvrant labouche d’un demi-pied: Monsieur, comment vous nommez-vous? On m’atoujours appelé l’Ingénu, reprit le Huron, et on m’a confirmé ce nom enAngleterre, parceque je dis toujours naïvement ce que je pense, commeje fais tout ce que je veux.
Comment, étant né Huron, avez-vous pu, monsieur, venir en Angleterre?C’est qu’on m’y a mené; j’ai été fait, dans un combat, prisonnier parles Anglais, après m’être assez bien défendu; et les Anglais, quiaiment la bravoure, parcequ’ils sont braves et qu’ils sont aussihonnêtes que nous, m’ayant proposé de me rendre à mes parents ou devenir en Angleterre, j’acceptai le dernier parti, parceque de monnaturel j’aime passionnément à voir du pays.
Mais, monsieur, dit le bailli avec son ton imposant, comment avez-vouspu abandonner ainsi père et mère? C’est que je n’ai jamais connu nipère ni mère, dit l’étranger. La compagnie s’attendrit, et tout lemonde répétait, Ni père, ni mère! Nous lui en servirons, dit lamaîtresse de la maison à son frère le prieur: que ce monsieur le Huronest intéressant! L’Ingénu la remercia avec une cordialité noble etfière, et lui fit comprendre qu’il n’avait besoin de rien.
Je m’aperçois, monsieur l’Ingénu, dit le grave bailli, que vous parlezmieux français qu’il n’appartient à un Huron. Un Français, dit-il, quenous avions pris dans ma grande jeunesse en Huronie, et pour qui jeconçus beaucoup d’amitié, m’enseigna sa langue; j’apprends très vite ceque je veux apprendre. J’ai trouvé en arrivant à Plymouth un de vosFrançais réfugiés que vous appelez huguenots, je ne sais pourquoi; ilm’a fait faire quelques progrès dans la connaissance de votre langue;et dès que j’ai pu m’exprimer intelligiblement, je suis venu voir votrepays, parceque j’aime assez les Français quand ils ne font pas trop dequestions.
L’abbé de Saint-Yves, malgré ce petit avertissement, lui demandalaquelle des trois langues lui plaisait davantage, la hurone,l’anglaise, ou la française. La hurone, sans contredit, réponditl’Ingénu. Est-il possible? s’écria mademoiselle de Kerkabon; j’avaistoujours cru que le français était la plus belle de toutes les languesaprès le bas-breton.
Alors ce fut à qui demanderait à l’Ingénu comment on disait en huron dutabac, et il répondait taya: comment on disait manger, et ilrépondait essenten. Mademoiselle de Kerkabon voulut absolument savoircomment on disait faire l’amour; il lui répondit trovander[a]; etsoutint, non sans apparence de raison, que ces mots-là valaient bienles mots français et anglais qui leur correspondaient. Trovanderparut très joli à tous les convives.
[a] Tous ces noms sont en effet hurons.
Monsieur le prieur, qui avait dans sa bibliothèque la grammaire huronedont le révérend P. Sagar Théodat, récollet, fameux missionnaire, luiavait fait présent, sortit de table un moment pour l’aller consulter.Il revint tout haletant de tendresse et de joie; il reconnut l’Ingénupour un vrai Huron. On disputa un peu sur la multiplicité des langues,et on convint que, sans l’aventure de la tour de Babel, toute la terreaurait parlé français.
L’interrogant bailli, qui jusque-là s’était défié un peu du personnage,conçut pour lui un profond respect; il lui parla avec plus de civilitéqu’auparavant, de quoi l’Ingénu ne s’aperçut pas.
Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves était fort curieuse de savoir comment onfesait l’amour au pays des Hurons. En fesant de belles actions,répondit-il, pour plaire aux personnes qui vous ressemblent. Tous lesconvives applaudirent avec étonnement. Mademoiselle de Saint-Yvesrougit et fut fort aise. Mademoiselle de Kerkabon rougit aussi, maiselle n’était pas si aise; elle fut un peu piquée que la galanterie nes’adressât pas à elle; mais elle était si bonne personne, que sonaffection pour le Huron n’en fut point du tout altérée. Elle luidemanda, avec beaucoup de bonté, combien il avait eu de maîtresses enHuronie. Je n’en ai jamais eu qu’une, dit l’Ingénu; c’étaitmademoiselle Abacaba, la bonne amie de ma chère nourrice; les joncs nesont pas plus droits, l’hermine n’est pas plus blanche, les moutonssont moins doux, les aigles moins fiers, et les cerfs ne sont pas silégers que l’était Abacaba. Elle poursuivait un jour un lièvre dansnotre voisinage, environ à cinquante lieues de notre habitation; unAlgonquin mal élevé, qui habitait cent lieues plus loin, vint luiprendre son lièvre; je le sus, j’y courus, je terrassai l’Algonquind’un coup de massue, je l’amenai, aux pieds de ma maîtresse, pieds etpoings liés. Les parents d’Abacaba voulurent le manger, mais je n’eusjamais de goût pour ces sortes de festins; je lui rendis sa liberté,j’en fis un ami. Abacaba fut si touchée de mon procédé qu’elle mepréféra à tous ses amants. Elle m’aimerait encore si elle n’avait pasété mangée par un ours: j’ai puni l’ours, j’ai porté longtemps sa peau;mais cela ne m’a pas consolé.
Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves, à ce récit, sentait un plaisir secretd’apprendre que l’Ingénu n’avait eu qu’une maîtresse, et qu’Abacaban’était plus; mais elle ne démêlait pas la cause de son plaisir. Toutle monde fixait les yeux sur l’Ingénu; on le louait beaucoup d’avoirempêché ses camarades de manger un Algonquin.
L’impitoyable bailli, qui ne pouvait réprimer sa fureur de questionner,poussa enfin la curiosité jusqu’à s’informer de quelle religion étaitM. le Huron; s’il avait choisi la religion anglicane, ou la gallicane,ou la huguenote? Je suis de ma religion, dit-il, comme vous de lavôtre. Hélas! s’écria la Kerkabon, je vois bien que ces malheureuxAnglais n’ont pas seulement songé à le baptiser. Eh! mon Dieu, disaitmademoiselle de Saint-Yves, comment se peut-il que les Hurons ne soientpas catholiques? Est-ce que les révérends pères jésuites ne les ont pastous convertis? L’Ingénu l’assura que dans son pays on ne convertissaitpersonne; que jamais un vrai Huron n’avait changé d’opinion, et quemême il n’y avait point dans sa langue de terme qui signifiâtinconstance. Ces derniers mots plurent extrêmement à mademoiselle deSaint-Yves.
Nous le baptiserons, nous le baptiserons, disait la Kerkabon à M. leprieur; vous en aurez l’honneur, mon cher frère; je veux absolumentêtre sa marraine: M. l’abbé de Saint-Yves le présentera sur les fonts:ce sera une cérémonie bien brillante; il en sera parlé dans toute laBasse-Bretagne, et cela nous fera un honneur infini. Toute la compagnieseconda la maîtresse de la maison; tous les convives criaient: Nous lebaptiserons! L’Ingénu répondit qu’en Angleterre on laissait vivre lesgens à leur fantaisie. Il témoigna que la proposition ne lui plaisaitpoint du tout, et que la loi des Hurons valait pour le moins la loi desBas-Bretons; enfin il dit qu’il repartait le lendemain. On acheva devider sa bouteille d’eau des Barbades, et chacun s’alla coucher.
Quand on eut reconduit l’Ingénu dans sa chambre, mademoiselle deKerkabon et son amie mademoiselle de Saint-Yves ne purent se tenir deregarder par le trou d’une large serrure pour voir comment dormait unHuron. Elles virent qu’il avait étendu la couverture du lit sur leplancher, et qu’il reposait dans la plus belle attitude du monde.
Musean translation
Complete machine-assisted Musean translation made directly from the French, independently of the Plain English edition. All twenty chapters and Voltaire’s three author notes are retained; Beuchot’s editorial apparatus is omitted.
How the prior of Notre-Dame de la Montagne and his sister met a Huron.
One day Saint Dunstan, Irish by nationality and a saint by profession, left Ireland on a little mountain that sailed toward the coast of France, and by this conveyance arrived in the bay of Saint-Malo. Once ashore, he blessed his mountain, which bowed deeply to him and returned to Ireland by the way it had come.
Dunstan founded a little priory in those parts and named it the Priory of the Mountain, a name it still bears, as everyone knows.
On the evening of July 15, 1689, the Abbé de Kerkabon, prior of Notre-Dame de la Montagne, was walking by the sea with his sister, Mademoiselle de Kerkabon, to enjoy the cool air. The prior, already somewhat advanced in years, was a very good churchman, beloved by the men of the neighborhood, as he had once been by the women. What had chiefly earned him great esteem was that he was the only holder of a church benefice in the district who did not have to be carried to bed after dining with his fellow clerics. He knew a respectable amount of theology; and when he grew tired of reading Saint Augustine, he amused himself with Rabelais. Everyone therefore spoke well of him.
Mademoiselle de Kerkabon, who had never married, although she had very much wanted to, retained a fresh complexion at the age of forty-five. Her nature was kind and tenderhearted; she loved pleasure and was devout.
As he looked out to sea, the prior said to his sister, "Alas! This is where our poor brother embarked with our dear sister-in-law, Madame de Kerkabon, his wife, aboard the frigate Hirondelle, in 1669, to go and serve in Canada. If he had not been killed, we might still hope to see him again."
"Do you believe," said Mademoiselle de Kerkabon, "that our sister-in-law was eaten by the Iroquois, as we were told? Certainly, if she had not been eaten, she would have come home. I shall mourn her all my life. She was a charming woman; and our brother, who had a great deal of wit, would surely have made his fortune."
While they were both moved by these memories, they saw a small vessel entering the bay of the Rance on the tide. It carried Englishmen who had come to sell some produce of their country. They leaped ashore without looking at the prior or his sister, who was deeply offended by their lack of attention to her.
It was otherwise with a very well-built young man who sprang in a single leap over his companions' heads and landed face-to-face with the lady. He nodded to her, not being accustomed to bowing. His appearance and his dress caught the eyes of brother and sister. His head and legs were bare, his feet shod in little sandals, his head adorned with long braided hair; a short doublet fitted his slim, supple waist. His bearing was warlike and gentle. In one hand he held a small bottle of Barbados spirits, and in the other a sort of pouch containing a drinking cup and some very good ship's biscuit. He spoke quite intelligible French. He offered Mademoiselle de Kerkabon and her brother some of his Barbados spirits and drank with them; he had them drink again, all with such simplicity and natural grace that brother and sister were delighted. They offered to help him, asking who he was and where he was going. The young man replied that he did not know; that he was curious, that he had wanted to see what the coast of France looked like, that he had come, and that he would be going back.
Judging by his accent that he was not English, the prior took the liberty of asking what country he came from. "I am a Huron," the young man answered.
Astonished and enchanted to see a Huron who had shown her such courtesy, Mademoiselle de Kerkabon invited the young man to supper. He did not need to be asked twice, and all three went together to the priory of Notre-Dame de la Montagne.
The short, round lady stared at him with her little eyes wide open and said from time to time to the prior, "That tall lad has a complexion of lilies and roses! What lovely skin for a Huron!" "You are right, my sister," said the prior. She asked a hundred questions in rapid succession, and the traveler always gave an apt reply.
Word soon spread that there was a Huron at the priory. The district's best society hurried over for supper. The Abbé de Saint-Yves came with his sister, a young woman of Lower Brittany, very pretty and very well brought up. The bailiff, the tax collector, and their wives joined the supper party. They seated the stranger between Mademoiselle de Kerkabon and Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves. Everyone gazed at him in admiration; everyone spoke to him and questioned him at once. The Huron was unperturbed. He seemed to have adopted Lord Bolingbroke's motto, Nihil admirari. But at last, worn out by so much noise, he said quite gently, though with a little firmness, "Gentlemen, in my country people speak one at a time. How do you expect me to answer when you keep me from hearing you?" Reason always brings people to their senses for a few moments: a great silence fell. The bailiff, who always took possession of strangers in any house he happened to visit, and who was the greatest questioner in the province, opened his mouth half a foot wide and said, "Sir, what is your name?" "I have always been called the Ingénu," the Huron replied, "and they confirmed that name in England, because I always say quite candidly what I think, just as I do whatever I please."
"How, sir, if you were born a Huron, did you manage to come to England?" "Because I was taken there. The English captured me in a battle, after I had defended myself fairly well; and the English, who love bravery because they are brave themselves, and who are as honorable as we are, offered either to return me to my people or to take me to England. I chose the latter, because I am by nature passionately fond of seeing the world."
"But, sir," said the bailiff in his imposing tone, "how could you abandon your father and mother like that?" "Because I have never known either father or mother," the stranger said. The company was touched, and everyone repeated, "Neither father nor mother!" "We shall take their place," the lady of the house said to her brother the prior. "What an engaging gentleman this Huron is!" The Ingénu thanked her with a noble and proud warmth and made her understand that he needed nothing.
"I observe, Monsieur Ingénu," said the solemn bailiff, "that you speak better French than is fitting for a Huron." "A Frenchman," he said, "whom we captured in Huronia when I was very young, and of whom I grew very fond, taught me his language. I learn very quickly whatever I want to learn. When I arrived in Plymouth, I met one of your French refugees, whom you call Huguenots, I do not know why. He helped me make some progress in your language; and as soon as I could make myself understood, I came to see your country, because I rather like the French when they do not ask too many questions."
Despite this little warning, the Abbé de Saint-Yves asked which of the three languages he liked best: Huron, English, or French. "Huron, unquestionably," the Ingénu replied. "Is it possible?" cried Mademoiselle de Kerkabon. "I had always thought French the loveliest of all languages after Breton."
Then everyone competed to ask the Ingénu how to say tobacco in Huron, and he answered taya; how to say eat, and he answered essenten. Mademoiselle de Kerkabon absolutely insisted on knowing how to say make love; he answered trovander[a], and maintained, not without some show of reason, that these words were quite as good as their French and English equivalents. All the guests found trovander very pretty.
[a] All these words are in fact Huron.
The prior, who had in his library a Huron grammar given to him by the Reverend Father Sagar Théodat, a Recollect friar and celebrated missionary, left the table for a moment to consult it. He returned fairly breathless with tenderness and joy: he had established that the Ingénu was a true Huron. There was some debate about the multiplicity of languages, and everyone agreed that, but for the affair of the Tower of Babel, the whole world would have spoken French.
The questioning bailiff, who until then had been a little suspicious of the fellow, conceived a profound respect for him. He spoke to him more civilly than before, which the Ingénu did not notice.
Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves was very curious to know how people made love in the country of the Hurons. "By doing fine deeds," he answered, "to please people who resemble you." All the guests applauded in astonishment. Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves blushed and was delighted. Mademoiselle de Kerkabon blushed too, but she was not so delighted; she was a little piqued that the compliment had not been addressed to her. Yet she was so good a person that her affection for the Huron was not diminished in the least. With great kindness she asked how many mistresses he had had in Huronia. "I have only ever had one," the Ingénu said. "It was Mademoiselle Abacaba, my dear nurse's good friend. The reeds are no straighter, the ermine no whiter; sheep are less gentle, eagles less proud, and stags are not as swift as Abacaba was. One day she was chasing a hare in our neighborhood, some fifty leagues from our home, when an ill-bred Algonquin, who lived a hundred leagues farther off, came and took her hare. I heard of it, ran there, felled the Algonquin with a blow of my club, and brought him to my mistress's feet, bound hand and foot. Abacaba's relatives wanted to eat him, but I have never had a taste for feasts of that kind. I set him free and made him a friend. Abacaba was so touched by what I had done that she preferred me to all her suitors. She would love me still if she had not been eaten by a bear. I punished the bear; I wore its skin for a long time, but that did not console me."
As she listened, Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves felt a secret pleasure in learning that the Ingénu had had only one mistress and that Abacaba was no more; but she could not distinguish the cause of her pleasure. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the Ingénu. He was much praised for having kept his companions from eating an Algonquin.
The relentless bailiff, unable to curb his mania for questioning, at last carried his curiosity so far as to ask what religion Monsieur the Huron professed: had he chosen the Anglican religion, the Gallican, or the Huguenot? "I belong to my religion," he said, "as you belong to yours." "Alas!" cried Mademoiselle de Kerkabon. "I can see that those wretched English never even thought of having him baptized." "Oh, my God," said Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves, "how can it be that the Hurons are not Catholics? Have the reverend Jesuit fathers not converted them all?" The Ingénu assured her that in his country no one was converted; that no true Huron had ever changed his opinion, and that his language did not even have a word meaning inconstancy. These last words pleased Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves exceedingly.
"We shall baptize him, we shall baptize him," Mademoiselle de Kerkabon told the prior. "You shall have the honor, my dear brother. I absolutely insist on being his godmother. The Abbé de Saint-Yves will present him at the font. It will be a splendid ceremony; people will speak of it throughout Lower Brittany, and it will do us infinite credit." The whole company supported the lady of the house; all the guests cried, "We shall baptize him!" The Ingénu replied that in England people were allowed to live as they pleased. He made it clear that the proposal did not please him at all, and that the law of the Hurons was at least as good as that of the Lower Bretons. Finally, he said he was leaving the next day. They finished his bottle of Barbados spirits, and everyone went to bed.
When they had shown the Ingénu to his room, Mademoiselle de Kerkabon and her friend Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves could not resist peeping through a large keyhole to see how a Huron slept. They saw that he had spread the bedcover on the floor and was resting in the most beautiful posture in the world.
Plain English translation
Complete machine-assisted Plain English translation made independently and directly from the French, not from the Musean edition. All twenty chapters and Voltaire’s three author notes are retained; Beuchot’s editorial apparatus is omitted.
How the prior of Notre-Dame de la Montagne and his sister met a Huron.
One day Saint Dunstan, Irish by nationality and a saint by profession, left Ireland on a little mountain. It floated toward the coast of France and carried him to the bay of Saint-Malo. When he reached shore, he blessed his mountain. It bowed low to him and went back to Ireland by the same route it had come.
Dunstan founded a little priory in that area and named it the Priory of the Mountain. As everyone knows, it still has that name.
On the evening of July 15, 1689, the abbé de Kerkabon, prior of Notre-Dame de la Montagne, was walking along the seashore with his sister, Mademoiselle de Kerkabon, to enjoy the cool air. The prior was getting on in years. He was a very good churchman, loved by his male neighbors, as he had once been loved by his female neighbors. Above all, he owed his great reputation to being the only holder of a church benefice in the district who did not have to be carried to bed after dining with his fellow clergy. He knew a fair amount of theology. When he got tired of reading Saint Augustine, he amused himself with Rabelais. So everyone spoke well of him.
Mademoiselle de Kerkabon had never married, although she had badly wanted to. At forty-five she still looked fresh. She was kind and sensitive, fond of pleasure, and devout.
Looking out to sea, the prior said to his sister, "Sadly, this is where our poor brother sailed on the frigate l’Hirondelle in 1669 to serve in Canada, with our dear sister-in-law, Madame de Kerkabon, his wife. If he hadn't been killed, we could still hope to see him again."
"Do you think," said Mademoiselle de Kerkabon, "that our sister-in-law was eaten by the Iroquois, as we were told? She certainly would have come home if she hadn't been eaten. I'll mourn her all my life. She was a lovely woman. And our brother was so clever, he would surely have made a great fortune."
As these memories moved them both, they saw a little ship coming into the bay of Rance on the tide. It carried Englishmen who had come to sell some goods from their country. They jumped ashore without looking at the prior or his sister. She was very offended at being given so little attention.
But one very handsome young man behaved differently. He leaped over his companions' heads and landed in front of her. He nodded to her, since he was not used to bowing. His appearance and clothes caught the attention of both brother and sister. His head and legs were bare, and he wore little sandals. His long hair was braided, and a short jacket fitted closely around his slim, graceful waist. He looked both warlike and gentle. In one hand he held a small bottle of Barbados liquor, and in the other a kind of pouch containing a cup and some very good ship's biscuits. His French was easy to understand. He offered some of his Barbados liquor to Mademoiselle de Kerkabon and her brother and drank with them. He gave them another drink, all with such simple, natural manners that they were delighted. They offered to help him and asked who he was and where he was going. The young man answered that he didn't know. He was curious, had wanted to see what the French coast looked like, had come, and was going back again.
The prior could tell from his accent that he was not English, so he took the liberty of asking what country he came from. "I'm a Huron," the young man answered.
Amazed and delighted to see a Huron who had been polite to her, Mademoiselle de Kerkabon invited the young man to supper. He didn't need to be asked twice, and all three went together to the priory of Notre-Dame de la Montagne.
The short, round lady stared at him with all the strength of her little eyes. Every so often she said to the prior, "That tall boy has a complexion of lilies and roses! What beautiful skin for a Huron!" "You're right, sister," said the prior. She asked a hundred questions, one after another, and the traveler always gave sensible answers.
Word soon spread that there was a Huron at the priory. The local people of standing hurried over for supper. The abbé de Saint-Yves came with his sister, a very pretty, well-brought-up young woman from Lower Brittany. The bailiff, the collector of the land tax, and their wives joined them. They seated the stranger between Mademoiselle de Kerkabon and Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves. Everyone looked at him in admiration. Everyone talked to him and questioned him at once. The Huron stayed calm. He seemed to have adopted Lord Bolingbroke's motto, Be surprised at nothing. At last, worn out by all the noise, he said gently but firmly, "Gentlemen, in my country we speak one at a time. How do you expect me to answer when you won't let me hear you?" Reason always makes people stop and think for a few moments. A deep silence fell. The bailiff always took possession of strangers in any house he visited and was the greatest questioner in the province. Opening his mouth half a foot wide, he said, "Sir, what is your name?" "People have always called me the Ingénu," the Huron replied. "They confirmed that name in England, because I always say candidly what I think, just as I always do what I want."
"Since you were born a Huron, sir, how did you get to England?" "They took me there. The English captured me in a battle, after I'd put up a pretty good fight. The English value courage because they're brave themselves, and they're as decent as we are. They offered either to send me back to my relatives or to take me to England. I chose England because I've always had a passion for seeing other countries."
"But, sir," the bailiff said in his commanding voice, "how could you abandon your father and mother like that?" "Because I've never known either my father or my mother," said the stranger. Everyone was moved and kept repeating, "Neither father nor mother!" "We'll take their place," the lady of the house told her brother the prior. "What an appealing man this Huron is!" The Ingénu thanked her with warm, proud dignity and made her understand that he needed nothing.
"I notice, Monsieur Ingénu," said the solemn bailiff, "that you speak better French than a Huron ought to." "A Frenchman we captured when I was very young in Huron country taught me his language," he said. "I became very fond of him. I learn very quickly when I want to learn something. When I arrived in Plymouth, I met one of your French refugees whom you call Huguenots, I don't know why. He helped me improve my knowledge of your language. As soon as I could make myself understood, I came to see your country, because I rather like French people when they don't ask too many questions."
Despite this little warning, the abbé de Saint-Yves asked which of the three languages he liked best: Huron, English, or French. "Huron, without question," the Ingénu answered. "Can that be possible?" cried Mademoiselle de Kerkabon. "I always thought French was the finest of all languages, after the language of Lower Brittany."
Then everyone competed to ask the Ingénu the Huron word for tobacco. He answered, "taya." They asked the word for eating, and he answered, "essenten." Mademoiselle de Kerkabon insisted on knowing the word for making love. He answered, "trovander"[a]. He maintained, with some reason, that these words were every bit as good as their French and English equivalents. All the guests thought trovander was very pretty.
[a] All these words are in fact Huron.
The prior had a Huron grammar in his library, a gift from the Reverend Father Sagar Théodat, a Recollect friar and famous missionary. He left the table for a moment to consult it. He came back breathless with affection and joy: he recognized the Ingénu as a genuine Huron. They debated the great number of languages for a while and agreed that, without the incident at the Tower of Babel, the whole world would have spoken French.
The questioning bailiff had been a little suspicious of the stranger until then. Now he felt deep respect for him and spoke more politely than before. The Ingénu did not notice.
Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves was very curious to know how people made love in Huron country. "By doing fine deeds," he answered, "to please people like you." All the guests applauded in surprise. Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves blushed and felt very pleased. Mademoiselle de Kerkabon also blushed, but she was not so pleased. She was a little hurt that the compliment was not meant for her. Still, she was such a good person that her affection for the Huron did not change at all. Very kindly, she asked how many sweethearts he'd had in Huron country. "I've only ever had one," said the Ingénu. "She was Mademoiselle Abacaba, my dear nurse's good friend. Reeds aren't straighter, ermine isn't whiter, sheep are less gentle, eagles less proud, and deer aren't as swift as Abacaba was. One day she was chasing a hare in our neighborhood, about fifty leagues from our home. A rude Algonquin who lived a hundred leagues farther away came and took her hare. I heard about it and ran there. I knocked the Algonquin down with one blow of my club, tied his hands and feet, and brought him to my sweetheart's feet. Abacaba's relatives wanted to eat him, but I've never liked that kind of feast. I set him free and made him my friend. Abacaba was so touched by what I'd done that she chose me over all her other admirers. She would still love me if a bear hadn't eaten her. I punished the bear and wore its skin for a long time, but that didn't comfort me."
Hearing this story, Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves felt secretly pleased to learn that the Ingénu had had only one sweetheart and that Abacaba was dead. But she could not work out why it pleased her. Everyone stared at the Ingénu and praised him warmly for stopping his companions from eating an Algonquin.
The relentless bailiff could not hold back his mania for questions. At last he went so far as to ask what religion the Huron followed. Had he chosen the Anglican religion, the Gallican, or the Huguenot? "I follow my own religion," he said, "just as you follow yours." "Oh dear!" cried Mademoiselle de Kerkabon. "I can see those wretched Englishmen never even thought of baptizing him." "Oh, my God," said Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves, "how can the Hurons not be Catholics? Haven't the reverend Jesuit fathers converted them all?" The Ingénu assured her that no one was converted in his country. No true Huron had ever changed his opinion, and their language did not even have a word meaning inconstancy. These last words pleased Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves very much.
"We'll baptize him, we'll baptize him," Mademoiselle de Kerkabon told the prior. "You'll have the honor, my dear brother. I absolutely insist on being his godmother. The abbé de Saint-Yves will present him at the font. It will be a splendid ceremony. People will talk about it all over Lower Brittany, and it will bring us endless honor." Everyone supported the lady of the house. All the guests shouted, "We'll baptize him!" The Ingénu answered that in England people were allowed to live as they pleased. He made it clear that he did not like the suggestion at all and that the Hurons' law was at least as good as the law of Lower Brittany. Finally he said he was leaving the next day. They finished his bottle of Barbados liquor, and everyone went to bed.
After the Ingénu had been shown to his room, Mademoiselle de Kerkabon and her friend Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves could not resist looking through a large keyhole to see how a Huron slept. They saw that he had spread the bedcover on the floor and was resting in the most beautiful pose in the world.
About this section
Chapter I is part of L’Ingénu, histoire véritable tirée des manuscrits du P. Quesnel by Voltaire. This page sets the French original beside 2 direct-source translations, so any line can be checked against the source. It is chapter 1 of 20 in the work, which is kept in the European tradition.
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