Chapter VI
Original French
L’Ingénu court chez sa maîtresse, et devient furieux.
A peine l’Ingénu était arrivé, qu’ayant demandé à une vieille servanteoù était la chambre de sa maîtresse, il avait poussé fortement la portemal fermée, et s’était élancé vers le lit. Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves,se réveillant en sursaut, s’était écriée: Quoi! c’est vous! ah! c’estvous! arrêtez-vous, que faites-vous? Il avait répondu: Je vous épouse;et en effet il l’épousait, si elle ne s’était pas débattue avec toutel’honnêteté d’une personne qui a de l’éducation.
L’Ingénu n’entendait pas raillerie; il trouvait toutes ces façons-làextrêmement impertinentes. Ce n’était pas ainsi qu’en usaitmademoiselle Abacaba, ma première maîtresse; vous n’avez point deprobité; vous m’avez promis mariage, et vous ne voulez point fairemariage; c’est manquer aux premières lois de l’honneur; je vousapprendrai à tenir votre parole, et je vous remettrai dans le chemin dela vertu.
L’Ingénu possédait une vertu mâle et intrépide, digne de son patronHercule, dont on lui avait donné le nom à son baptême; il allaitl’exercer dans toute son étendue, lorsqu’aux cris perçants de lademoiselle plus discrètement vertueuse, accourut le sage abbé deSaint-Yves, avec sa gouvernante, un vieux domestique dévot, et unprêtre de paroisse. Cette vue modéra le courage de l’assaillant. Eh,mon Dieu! mon cher voisin, lui dit l’abbé, que faites-vous là? Mondevoir, répliqua le jeune homme; je remplis mes promesses, qui sontsacrées.
Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves se rajusta en rougissant. On emmena l’Ingénudans un autre appartement. L’abbé lui remontra l’énormité du procédé.L’Ingénu se défendit sur les privilèges de la loi naturelle, qu’ilconnaissait parfaitement. L’abbé voulut prouver que la loi positivedevait avoir tout l’avantage, et que, sans les conventions faites entreles hommes, la loi de nature ne serait presque jamais qu’un brigandagenaturel. Il faut, lui disait-il, des notaires, des prêtres, destémoins, des contrats, des dispenses. L’Ingénu lui répondit par laréflexion que les sauvages ont toujours faite: Vous êtes donc de bienmalhonnêtes gens, puisqu’il faut entre vous tant de précautions.
L’abbé eut de la peine à résoudre cette difficulté. Il y a, dit-il, jel’avoue, beaucoup d’inconstants et de fripons parmi nous; et il y enaurait autant chez les Hurons, s’ils étaient rassemblés dans une grandeville; mais aussi il y a des âmes sages, honnêtes, éclairées, et cesont ces hommes-là qui ont fait les lois. Plus on est homme de bien,plus on doit s’y soumettre; on donne l’exemple aux vicieux, quirespectent un frein que la vertu s’est donné elle-même.
Cette réponse frappa l’Ingénu. On a déjà remarqué qu’il avait l’espritjuste. On l’adoucit par des paroles flatteuses; on lui donna desespérances: ce sont les deux pièges où les hommes des deux hémisphèresse prennent; on lui présenta même mademoiselle de Saint-Yves, quandelle eut fait sa toilette. Tout se passa avec la plus grandebienséance, mais, malgré cette décence, les yeux étincelants del’Ingénu Hercule firent toujours baisser ceux de sa maîtresse, ettrembler la compagnie.
On eut une peine extrême à le renvoyer chez ses parents. Il fallutencore employer le crédit de la belle Saint-Yves; plus elle sentait sonpouvoir sur lui, et plus elle l’aimait. Elle le fit partir, et en futtrès affligée: enfin, quand il fut parti, l’abbé, qui non seulementétait le frère très aîné de mademoiselle de Saint-Yves, mais qui étaitaussi son tuteur, prit le parti de soustraire sa pupille auxempressements de cet amant terrible. Il alla consulter le bailli, qui,destinant toujours son fils à la soeur de l’abbé, lui conseilla demettre la pauvre fille dans une communauté. Ce fut un coup terrible:une indifférente qu’on mettrait en couvent jetterait les hauts cris;mais une amante, et une amante aussi sage que tendre! c’était de quoila mettre au désespoir.
L’Ingénu, de retour chez le prieur, raconta tout avec sa naïvetéordinaire. Il essuya les mêmes remontrances qui firent quelque effetsur son esprit, et aucun sur ses sens; mais le lendemain, quand ilvoulut retourner chez sa belle maîtresse, pour raisonner avec elle surla loi naturelle et sur la loi de convention, monsieur le bailli luiapprit avec une joie insultante qu’elle était dans un couvent. Eh bien!dit-il, j’irai raisonner dans ce couvent. Cela ne se peut, dit lebailli: il lui expliqua fort au long ce que c’était qu’un couvent ou unconvent, que ce mot venait du latin conventus, qui signifieassemblée; et le Huron ne pouvait comprendre pourquoi il ne pouvait pasêtre admis dans l’assemblée. Sitôt qu’il fut instruit que cetteassemblée était une espèce de prison où l’on tenait les fillesrenfermées, chose horrible, inconnue chez les Hurons et chez lesAnglais, il devint aussi furieux que le fut son patron Hercule, lorsqueEuryte, roi d’Oechalie, non moins cruel que l’abbé de Saint-Yves, luirefusa la belle Iole sa fille, non moins belle que la soeur de l’abbé.Il voulait aller mettre le feu au couvent, enlever sa maîtresse, ou sebrûler avec elle. Mademoiselle de Kerkabon, épouvantée, renonçait plusque jamais à toutes les espérances de voir son neveu sous-diacre, etdisait en pleurant qu’il avait le diable au corps depuis qu’il étaitbaptisé.
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 Ingénu runs to his beloved's house and becomes furious.
Scarcely had the Ingénu arrived when, having asked an old servant where his beloved's room was, he thrust open the poorly fastened door and sprang toward the bed. Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves woke with a start and cried, "What! It is you! Ah, it is you! Stop! What are you doing?" He answered, "I am marrying you"; and indeed he would have married her, had she not struggled with all the propriety of a person of good breeding.
The Ingénu would stand no fooling; he found all these formalities exceedingly impertinent. "This is not how Mademoiselle Abacaba, my first mistress, behaved. You have no integrity. You promised to marry me, and you will not make a marriage. That is a breach of the first laws of honor. I shall teach you to keep your word and put you back on the path of virtue."
The Ingénu possessed a manly and intrepid virtue, worthy of his patron Hercules, whose name he had been given at baptism. He was about to exercise it to the full when the piercing cries of the more discreetly virtuous young lady brought the wise Abbé de Saint-Yves running, with his housekeeper, a devout old manservant, and a parish priest. This sight tempered the assailant's courage. "Oh, my God, my dear neighbor," the abbé said, "what are you doing here?" "My duty," the young man replied. "I am fulfilling my promises, which are sacred."
Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves put her clothes in order, blushing. They took the Ingénu into another room. The abbé explained the enormity of his conduct. The Ingénu defended himself by appealing to the privileges of natural law, which he understood perfectly. The abbé sought to prove that positive law must take complete precedence, and that without the agreements made among men, the law of nature would almost always be no more than natural lawlessness. "We need," he told him, "notaries, priests, witnesses, contracts, dispensations." The Ingénu answered with the reflection that savages have always made: "You must be very dishonest people, then, if you need so many precautions among yourselves."
The abbé had difficulty resolving this objection. "There are, I admit," he said, "many fickle people and rogues among us; and there would be as many among the Hurons if they were gathered together in a great city. But there are also wise, honorable, enlightened souls, and those are the men who have made the laws. The better a man is, the more he must submit to them. He sets an example to the wicked, who respect a restraint that virtue has imposed on itself."
This answer struck the Ingénu. It has already been observed that his mind was sound. They soothed him with flattering words and gave him hopes: these are the two snares in which people of both hemispheres are caught. They even brought Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves before him once she had finished dressing. Everything was conducted with the greatest propriety; but despite this decorum, the flashing eyes of Hercules the Ingénu constantly made his beloved lower hers and the company tremble.
They had the greatest difficulty sending him back to his family. Once more they had to call upon the beautiful Saint-Yves's influence; the more she felt her power over him, the more she loved him. She sent him away and was deeply distressed by it. At last, when he had gone, the abbé, who was not only Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves's much older brother but also her guardian, resolved to remove his ward from the advances of this formidable lover. He went to consult the bailiff, who, still intending his son for the abbé's sister, advised him to place the poor girl in a religious house. It was a terrible blow. A woman with no lover would cry out in protest at being put in a convent; but a woman in love, and as virtuous as she was tender! It was enough to drive her to despair.
Back at the priory, the Ingénu recounted everything with his usual candor. He endured the same remonstrances, which had some effect on his mind and none on his senses. But the next day, when he wished to return to his beautiful beloved to reason with her about natural law and conventional law, the bailiff informed him with insulting glee that she was in a convent. "Very well!" he said. "I shall go and reason in the convent." "That cannot be," said the bailiff. He explained at great length what a convent, or a religious community, was; that the word came from the Latin conventus, meaning an assembly; and the Huron could not understand why he could not be admitted to the assembly. As soon as he learned that this assembly was a kind of prison where girls were kept locked away—a horrible thing, unknown among the Hurons and the English—he became as furious as his patron Hercules had been when Eurytus, king of Oechalia, no less cruel than the Abbé de Saint-Yves, refused him his beautiful daughter Iole, no less beautiful than the abbé's sister. He wanted to go and set fire to the convent, carry off his beloved, or burn himself with her. Mademoiselle de Kerkabon, terrified, abandoned more than ever all hope of seeing her nephew a subdeacon, and said through her tears that he had had the devil in him ever since he was baptized.
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 Ingénu rushes to his sweetheart's home and becomes furious.
As soon as the Ingénu arrived, he asked an elderly servant where his sweetheart's room was. He pushed hard against the badly closed door and sprang toward the bed. Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves woke with a start and cried, "What! It's you! Oh, it's you! Stop! What are you doing?" He answered, "I'm marrying you." And he would indeed have married her if she had not struggled with all the decency of a well-brought-up person.
The Ingénu was not joking. He found all this behavior extremely improper. "Mademoiselle Abacaba, my first sweetheart, didn't behave like this. You aren't honest. You promised to marry me, and you don't want to go through with it. That breaks the most basic rules of honor. I'll teach you to keep your word and put you back on the path of virtue."
The Ingénu's virtue was manly and fearless, worthy of his patron Hercules, whose name he had been given at his baptism. He was about to use it to its fullest extent when the piercing cries of the more discreetly virtuous young woman brought the wise abbé de Saint-Yves running. With him came his housekeeper, a devout old manservant, and a parish priest. The sight of them dampened the attacker's courage. "Oh, my God, my dear neighbor!" the abbé said. "What are you doing?" "My duty," the young man answered. "I'm keeping my promises, which are sacred."
Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves put her clothes in order, blushing. They took the Ingénu into another room. The abbé explained how outrageous his behavior was. The Ingénu defended himself by appealing to the rights of natural law, which he knew perfectly. The abbé tried to prove that established law must always take priority, and that without agreements between people, the law of nature would almost always be nothing but natural robbery. "We need notaries," he told him, "priests, witnesses, contracts, dispensations." The Ingénu answered with the observation that native peoples have always made: "Then you must be very dishonest people, since you need so many precautions among yourselves."
The abbé had trouble answering this objection. "I admit," he said, "that there are many fickle people and rogues among us. There would be just as many among the Hurons if they were gathered in a great city. But there are also wise, honest, enlightened people, and they're the ones who made the laws. The better a person is, the more he should obey them. He sets an example for the wicked, who respect a restraint that virtue has imposed on itself."
This answer struck the Ingénu. We have already noted that he had good judgment. They soothed him with flattering words and gave him hope: the two traps that catch people in both hemispheres. They even brought Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves to him once she had finished dressing. Everything was completely proper. But despite this propriety, Hercules the Ingénu's blazing eyes still made his sweetheart lower hers and everyone else tremble.
They had a very hard time sending him home to his relatives. Once again they had to use the beautiful Saint-Yves's influence. The more she felt her power over him, the more she loved him. She made him leave and was deeply upset by it. Finally, once he had gone, the abbé decided to protect his ward from the eager attentions of this terrifying lover. He was not only Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves's much older brother but also her guardian. He went to consult the bailiff, who still intended his son to marry the abbé's sister and advised him to put the poor girl in a convent. This was a terrible blow. Even a woman who was not in love would cry out at being shut in a convent. But a woman in love, and one as sensible as she was affectionate! It was enough to drive her to despair.
Back at the prior's house, the Ingénu told the whole story with his usual candor. He received the same lectures. They had some effect on his mind and none on his senses. But the next day, when he wanted to return to his lovely sweetheart to reason with her about natural law and the law of agreement, the bailiff told him with insulting delight that she was in a convent. "All right," he said, "I'll go and reason in that convent." "That isn't possible," said the bailiff. He explained at great length what a convent, or religious community, was, and that the word came from the Latin conventus, meaning a gathering. The Huron could not understand why he could not be admitted to the gathering. As soon as he learned that this gathering was a kind of prison where girls were kept locked up—a horrible thing, unknown among the Hurons and the English—he became as furious as his patron Hercules had been when Eurytus, king of Oechalia, refused to give him his beautiful daughter Iole. Eurytus was no less cruel than the abbé de Saint-Yves, and Iole no less beautiful than the abbé's sister. The Ingénu wanted to set fire to the convent, carry off his sweetheart, or burn himself to death with her. Terrified, Mademoiselle de Kerkabon gave up more completely than ever on her hopes of seeing her nephew become a subdeacon. She said in tears that the devil had got into him since he was baptized.
About this section
Chapter VI 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 6 of 20 in the work, which is kept in the European tradition.
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