Chapter II
Original French
Le Huron, nommé l’Ingénu, reconnu de ses parents.
L’Ingénu, selon sa coutume, s’éveilla avec le soleil, au chant du coq,qu’on appelle en Angleterre et en Huronie la trompette du jour. Iln’était pas comme la bonne compagnie, qui languit dans un lit oiseuxjusqu’à ce que le soleil ait fait la moitié de son tour, qui ne peut nidormir ni se lever, qui perd tant d’heures précieuses dans cet étatmitoyen entre la vie et la mort, et qui se plaint encore que la vie esttrop courte.
Il avait déjà fait deux ou trois lieues, il avait tué trente pièces degibier à balle seule, lorsqu’en rentrant il trouva monsieur le prieurde Notre-Dame de la Montagne et sa discrète soeur, se promenant enbonnet de nuit dans leur petit jardin. Il leur présenta toute sachasse, et en tirant de sa chemise une espèce de petit talisman qu’ilportait toujours à son cou, il les pria de l’accepter en reconnaissancede leur bonne réception. C’est ce que j’ai de plus précieux, leurdit-il; on m’a assuré que je serais toujours heureux tant que jeporterais ce petit brimborion sur moi, et je vous le donne afin quevous soyez toujours heureux.
Le prieur et mademoiselle sourirent avec attendrissement de la naïvetéde l’Ingénu. Ce présent consistait en deux petits portraits assez malfaits, attachés ensemble avec une courroie fort grasse.
Mademoiselle de Kerkabon lui demanda s’il y avait des peintres enHuronie. Non, dit l’Ingénu; cette rareté me vient de ma nourrice; sonmari l’avait eue par conquête, en dépouillant quelques Français duCanada qui nous avaient fait la guerre; c’est tout ce que j’en ai su.
Le prieur regardait attentivement ces portraits; il changea de couleur,il s’émut, ses mains tremblèrent. Par Notre-Dame de la Montagne,s’écria-t-il, je crois que voilà le visage de mon frère le capitaine etde sa femme! Mademoiselle, après les avoir considérés avec la mêmeémotion, en jugea de même. Tous deux étaient saisis d’étonnement etd’une joie mêlée de douleur; tous deux s’attendrissaient; tous deuxpleuraient; leur coeur palpitait; ils poussaient des cris; ilss’arrachaient les portraits; chacun d’eux les prenait et les rendaitvingt fois en une seconde; ils dévoraient des yeux les portraits et leHuron; ils lui demandaient l’un après l’autre, et tous deux à-la-fois,en quel lieu, en quel temps, comment ces miniatures étaient tombéesentre les mains de sa nourrice; ils rapprochaient, ils comptaient lestemps depuis le départ du capitaine; ils se souvenaient d’avoir eunouvelle qu’il avait été jusqu’au pays des Hurons, et que depuis cetemps ils n’en avaient jamais entendu parler.
L’Ingénu leur avait dit qu’il n’avait connu ni père ni mère. Le prieur,qui était homme de sens, remarqua que l’Ingénu avait un peu de barbe;il savait très bien que les Hurons n’en ont point. Son menton estcotonné, il est donc fils d’un homme d’Europe; mon frère et mabelle-soeur ne parurent plus après l’expédition contre les Hurons, en1669: mon neveu devait alors être à la mamelle: la nourrice hurone luia sauvé la vie et lui a servi de mère. Enfin, après cent questions etcent réponses, le prieur et sa soeur conclurent que le Huron était leurpropre neveu. Ils l’embrassaient en versant des larmes; et l’Ingénuriait, ne pouvant s’imaginer qu’un Huron fût neveu d’un prieurbas-breton.
Toute la compagnie descendit; M. de Saint-Yves, qui était grandphysionomiste, compara les deux portraits avec le visage de l’Ingénu;il fit très habilement remarquer qu’il avait les yeux de sa mère, lefront et le nez de feu monsieur le capitaine de Kerkabon, et des jouesqui tenaient de l’un et de l’autre.
Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves, qui n’avait jamais vu le père ni la mère,assura que l’Ingénu leur ressemblait parfaitement. Ils admiraient tousla Providence et l’enchaînement des événements de ce monde. Enfin onétait si persuadé, si convaincu de la naissance de l’Ingénu, qu’ilconsentit lui-même à être neveu de monsieur le prieur, en disant qu’ilaimait autant l’avoir pour oncle qu’un autre.
On alla rendre grâce à Dieu dans l’église de Notre-Dame de la Montagne,tandis que le Huron d’un air indifférent s’amusait à boire dans lamaison.
Les Anglais qui l’avaient amené, et qui étaient prêts à mettre à lavoile, vinrent lui dire qu’il était temps de partir. Apparemment, leurdit-il, que vous n’avez pas retrouvé vos oncles et vos tantes; je resteici; retournez à Plymouth, je vous donne toutes mes hardes, je n’aiplus besoin de rien au monde, puisque je suis le neveu d’un prieur. LesAnglais mirent à la voile, en se souciant fort peu que l’Ingénu eût desparents ou non en Basse-Bretagne.
Après que l’oncle, la tante, et la compagnie, eurent chanté le *TeDeum*; après que le bailli eut encore accablé l’Ingénu de questions;après qu’on eut épuisé tout ce que l’étonnement, la joie, la tendresse,peuvent faire dire, le prieur de la Montagne et l’abbé de Saint-Yvesconclurent à faire baptiser l’Ingénu au plus vite. Mais il n’en étaitpas d’un grand Huron de vingt-deux ans, comme d’un enfant qu’onrégénère sans qu’il en sache rien. Il fallait l’instruire, et celaparaissait difficile; car l’abbé de Saint-Yves supposait qu’un hommequi n’était pas né en France n’avait pas le sens commun.
Le prieur fit observer à la compagnie que, si en effet M. l’Ingénu, sonneveu, n’avait pas eu le bonheur de naître en Basse-Bretagne, il n’enavait pas moins d’esprit; qu’on en pouvait juger par toutes sesréponses, et que sûrement la nature l’avait beaucoup favorisé, tant ducôté paternel que du maternel.
On lui demanda d’abord s’il avait jamais lu quelque livre. Il dit qu’ilavait lu Rabelais traduit en anglais, et quelques morceaux deShakespeare qu’il savait par coeur; qu’il avait trouvé ces livres chezle capitaine du vaisseau qui l’avait amené de l’Amérique à Plymouth, etqu’il en était fort content. Le bailli ne manqua pas de l’interrogersur ces livres. Je vous avoue, dit l’Ingénu, que j’ai cru en devinerquelque chose, et que je n’ai pas entendu le reste.
L’abbé de Saint-Yves, à ce discours, fit réflexion que c’était ainsique lui-même avait toujours lu, et que la plupart des hommes nelisaient guère autrement. Vous avez sans doute lu la Bible? dit-il auHuron. Point du tout, monsieur l’abbé; elle n’était pas parmi leslivres de mon capitaine; je n’en ai jamais entendu parler. Voilà commesont ces maudits Anglais, criait mademoiselle de Kerkabon, ils ferontplus de cas d’une pièce de Shakespeare, d’un plum-pudding et d’unebouteille de rum que du Pentateuque. Aussi n’ont-ils jamais convertipersonne en Amérique. Certainement ils sont maudits de Dieu; et nousleur prendrons la Jamaïque et la Virginie avant qu’il soit peu detemps.
Quoi qu’il en soit, on fit venir le plus habile tailleur de Saint-Malopour habiller l’Ingénu de pied en cap. La compagnie se sépara; lebailli alla faire ses questions ailleurs. Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves,en partant, se retourna plusieurs fois pour regarder l’Ingénu; et illui fit des révérences plus profondes qu’il n’en avait jamais fait àpersonne en sa vie.
Le bailli, avant de prendre congé, présenta à mademoiselle deSaint-Yves un grand nigaud de fils qui sortait du collège; mais à peinele regarda-t-elle, tant elle était occupée de la politesse du Huron.
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.
The Huron, called the Ingénu, is recognized by his family.
As was his custom, the Ingénu woke with the sun, at the crowing of the cock, which in England and Huronia is called the trumpet of the day. He was not like fashionable society, which languishes in an idle bed until the sun has completed half its circuit, unable either to sleep or to rise, wasting so many precious hours in that state midway between life and death, and still complaining that life is too short.
He had already covered two or three leagues and killed thirty head of game with single bullets when, on his return, he found the prior of Notre-Dame de la Montagne and his discreet sister walking in their nightcaps in their little garden. He presented them with all his game; then, drawing from his shirt a sort of little talisman that he always wore around his neck, he begged them to accept it in gratitude for their kind reception. "It is the most precious thing I have," he told them. "I was assured that I would always be happy as long as I wore this little trinket, and I give it to you so that you may always be happy."
The prior and his sister smiled tenderly at the Ingénu's simplicity. The gift consisted of two rather poorly executed miniature portraits, fastened together by a very greasy strap.
Mademoiselle de Kerkabon asked him whether there were painters in Huronia. "No," said the Ingénu. "This rarity came to me from my nurse. Her husband had won it as spoils, stripping some Frenchmen from Canada who had made war on us. That is all I ever knew about it."
The prior studied the portraits closely. He changed color, grew agitated; his hands trembled. "By Our Lady of the Mountain!" he cried. "I believe these are the faces of my brother the captain and his wife!" After examining them with the same emotion, his sister came to the same conclusion. Both were seized with astonishment and a joy mingled with grief; both were deeply moved; both wept. Their hearts pounded; they cried out; they snatched the portraits from each other. Each took them and handed them back twenty times in a second. They devoured the portraits and the Huron with their eyes. They asked him one after the other, and both at once, where, when, and how these miniatures had come into his nurse's hands. They pieced together the dates, counted the years since the captain's departure; they remembered hearing that he had gone as far as the country of the Hurons and that since then they had never heard of him again.
The Ingénu had told them that he had known neither father nor mother. The prior, who was a sensible man, noticed that the Ingénu had a little beard; he knew very well that Hurons had none. "His chin is downy, so he is the son of a European. My brother and sister-in-law were never seen again after the expedition against the Hurons in 1669. My nephew must then have been a nursing infant; the Huron nurse saved his life and became a mother to him." At last, after a hundred questions and a hundred answers, the prior and his sister concluded that the Huron was their own nephew. They embraced him with streaming tears, while the Ingénu laughed, unable to imagine that a Huron could be the nephew of a prior in Lower Brittany.
The whole company came downstairs. Monsieur de Saint-Yves, who was a great judge of faces, compared the two portraits with the Ingénu's features. He very skillfully pointed out that he had his mother's eyes, the forehead and nose of the late Captain de Kerkabon, and cheeks that took after both.
Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves, who had never seen either father or mother, declared that the Ingénu resembled them perfectly. They all marveled at Providence and the chain of events in this world. In short, they were so persuaded, so convinced of the Ingénu's parentage, that he himself consented to be the prior's nephew, saying that he would as soon have him for an uncle as anyone else.
They went to give thanks to God in the church of Notre-Dame de la Montagne, while the Huron, quite unconcerned, amused himself by drinking in the house.
The Englishmen who had brought him, and who were ready to set sail, came to tell him it was time to leave. "Apparently," he told them, "you have not found your uncles and aunts. I am staying here. Go back to Plymouth; I give you all my belongings. I need nothing more in the world, since I am the nephew of a prior." The Englishmen set sail, caring very little whether the Ingénu had relatives in Lower Brittany or not.
After the uncle, the aunt, and the company had sung the Te Deum; after the bailiff had once more overwhelmed the Ingénu with questions; after they had exhausted everything that astonishment, joy, and tenderness could prompt them to say, the prior of the Mountain and the Abbé de Saint-Yves resolved to have the Ingénu baptized as soon as possible. But a strapping Huron of twenty-two was not like a baby who is regenerated without knowing anything about it. He would have to be instructed, and that seemed difficult, for the Abbé de Saint-Yves assumed that a man who had not been born in France had no common sense.
The prior pointed out to the company that, although Monsieur Ingénu, his nephew, had indeed not had the good fortune to be born in Lower Brittany, he was no less intelligent for that; they could judge as much from all his answers, and nature had certainly been very generous to him on both his father's and his mother's side.
First they asked whether he had ever read a book. He said he had read Rabelais in English translation and some passages of Shakespeare that he knew by heart; that he had found these books in the possession of the captain of the ship that had brought him from America to Plymouth, and that he had been very pleased with them. The bailiff did not fail to question him about these books. "I confess," said the Ingénu, "that I thought I could guess at some of it, and that I did not understand the rest."
Hearing this, the Abbé de Saint-Yves reflected that this was how he himself had always read, and that most people read in much the same way. "You have doubtless read the Bible?" he asked the Huron. "Not at all, Monsieur l'Abbé. It was not among my captain's books. I have never heard of it." "That is just like those damned English!" cried Mademoiselle de Kerkabon. "They think more of a play by Shakespeare, a plum pudding, and a bottle of rum than of the Pentateuch. And so they have never converted anyone in America. They are certainly accursed by God, and before long we shall take Jamaica and Virginia from them."
Be that as it may, they sent for the most skillful tailor in Saint-Malo to dress the Ingénu from head to foot. The company dispersed; the bailiff went off to ask his questions elsewhere. As she left, Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves turned back several times to look at the Ingénu, and he bowed to her more deeply than he had ever bowed to anyone in his life.
Before taking his leave, the bailiff presented to Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves a great lout of a son who had just left school; but she scarcely looked at him, so taken up was she with the Huron's courtesy.
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.
The Huron called the Ingénu is recognized by his relatives.
As usual, the Ingénu woke at sunrise to the sound of the rooster, called the trumpet of the day in England and Huron country. He was not like fashionable people, who lie idle in bed until the sun has finished half its journey. They can neither sleep nor get up. They waste precious hours in this state halfway between life and death, and still complain that life is too short.
He had already walked two or three leagues and killed thirty pieces of game, using single bullets, when he came back. He found the prior of Notre-Dame de la Montagne and his discreet sister walking in their little garden in nightcaps. He gave them everything he had shot. Then he pulled from his shirt a kind of small charm that he always wore around his neck and asked them to accept it in thanks for their welcome. "It's the most precious thing I own," he told them. "I've been assured that I'll always be happy as long as I carry this little trinket. I'm giving it to you so that you'll always be happy."
The prior and his sister smiled, touched by the Ingénu's simple trust. The gift was two small, poorly painted portraits tied together with a very greasy strap.
Mademoiselle de Kerkabon asked him whether there were painters in Huron country. "No," said the Ingénu. "This rare object came from my nurse. Her husband got it as war loot when he stripped some Frenchmen in Canada who had fought against us. That's all I've ever known about it."
The prior looked closely at the portraits. His color changed, he grew agitated, and his hands shook. "By Our Lady of the Mountain!" he cried. "I think these are the faces of my brother the captain and his wife!" His sister examined them with the same emotion and came to the same conclusion. Both were overwhelmed with surprise and joy mixed with sorrow. Both were deeply moved; both cried. Their hearts pounded, and they shouted. They snatched the portraits from each other, each taking them and giving them back twenty times in a second. Their eyes devoured the portraits and the Huron. One after the other, and both at once, they asked him where, when, and how these miniatures had come into his nurse's hands. They compared dates and counted the years since the captain had left. They remembered hearing that he had traveled as far as Huron country, and they had heard nothing of him since.
The Ingénu had told them he had never known either his father or his mother. The prior, a sensible man, noticed that the Ingénu had a little beard. He knew very well that Hurons had none. "He has down on his chin, so his father must have been European. My brother and sister-in-law disappeared after the expedition against the Hurons in 1669. My nephew must have been a nursing baby then. His Huron nurse saved his life and acted as his mother." At last, after a hundred questions and a hundred answers, the prior and his sister concluded that the Huron was their own nephew. They hugged him, crying, while the Ingénu laughed. He could not imagine a Huron being the nephew of a prior from Lower Brittany.
All the guests came downstairs. Monsieur de Saint-Yves, a great judge of faces, compared the two portraits with the Ingénu's face. He very skillfully pointed out that he had his mother's eyes, the forehead and nose of the late Captain de Kerkabon, and cheeks that resembled both parents.
Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves, who had never seen either parent, declared that the Ingénu looked exactly like them. Everyone admired Providence and the chain of events in this world. In the end, they were so sure, so convinced about the Ingénu's birth, that he himself agreed to be the prior's nephew. He said he would as soon have him for an uncle as anyone else.
They went to thank God in the church of Notre-Dame de la Montagne. Meanwhile the Huron stayed in the house, unconcerned, and amused himself by drinking.
The Englishmen who had brought him were ready to sail and came to tell him it was time to leave. "Apparently you haven't found your uncles and aunts," he told them. "I'm staying here. Go back to Plymouth. I'll give you all my clothes. I don't need anything else in the world now that I'm a prior's nephew." The Englishmen sailed away, caring very little whether the Ingénu had relatives in Lower Brittany or not.
The uncle, the aunt, and their guests sang the Te Deum. The bailiff overwhelmed the Ingénu with more questions. They exhausted everything that surprise, joy, and affection could make them say. Then the prior of the Mountain and the abbé de Saint-Yves decided to have the Ingénu baptized as soon as possible. But a full-grown Huron of twenty-two was not like a baby who is born again without knowing anything about it. He had to be taught, and that seemed difficult. The abbé de Saint-Yves assumed that anyone not born in France had no common sense.
The prior pointed out to the guests that, although his nephew Monsieur Ingénu had not had the good fortune to be born in Lower Brittany, he was no less intelligent for that. They could judge this from all his answers. Nature had certainly been very generous to him, on both his father's and his mother's side.
First they asked him if he had ever read a book. He said he had read Rabelais in English translation and some passages of Shakespeare that he knew by heart. He had found these books among the belongings of the captain who brought him from America to Plymouth, and he had liked them very much. Of course the bailiff questioned him about these books. "I admit," said the Ingénu, "that I thought I could guess at some of it, and I didn't understand the rest."
Hearing this, the abbé de Saint-Yves reflected that this was how he himself had always read, and that most people hardly read any other way. "You've read the Bible, of course?" he asked the Huron. "Not at all, Father. It wasn't among my captain's books. I've never heard of it." "That's what those damned Englishmen are like!" cried Mademoiselle de Kerkabon. "They'll think more of a play by Shakespeare, a plum pudding, and a bottle of rum than of the Pentateuch. That's why they've never converted anyone in America. God has certainly cursed them, and before long we'll take Jamaica and Virginia from them."
Anyway, they sent for the best tailor in Saint-Malo to dress the Ingénu from head to foot. The guests went their separate ways. The bailiff went to ask his questions somewhere else. As Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves left, she turned around several times to look at the Ingénu. He bowed to her more deeply than he had ever bowed to anyone in his life.
Before saying goodbye, the bailiff introduced his son to Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves: a big oaf just out of school. But she barely looked at him, she was so taken up with the Huron's polite attentions.
About this section
Chapter II 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 2 of 20 in the work, which is kept in the European tradition.
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