Shaddock Grove, the steeple of which you see yonder upon the plain. After
service, the poor often came to require some kind office at their hands.
Sometimes an unhappy creature sought their advice, sometimes a child led
them to its sick mother in the neighbourhood. They always took with them
remedies for the ordinary diseases of the country, which they administered
in that soothing manner which stamps so much value upon the smallest
favours. Above all, they succeeded in banishing the disorders of the mind,
which are so intolerable in solitude, and under the infirmities of a
weakened frame. Madame de la Tour spoke with such sublime confidence of the
Divinity, that the sick, while listening to her, believed that he was
present. Virginia often returned home with her eyes wet with tears and her
heart overflowing with delight, having had an opportunity of doing good.
After those visits of charity, they sometimes prolonged their way by the
Sloping Mountain, till they reached my dwelling, where I had prepared
dinner for them upon the banks of the little river which glides near my
cottage. I produced on those occasions some bottles of old wine, in order
to heighten the gaiety of our Indian repast by the cordial productions of
Europe. Sometimes we met upon the seashore, at the mouth of little rivers,
which are here scarcely larger than brooks. We brought from the plantation
our vegetable provisions, to which we added such as the sea furnished in
great variety. Seated upon a rock, beneath the shade of the velvet
sunflower, we heard the mountain billows break at our feet with a dashing
noise; and sometimes on that spot we listened to the plaintive strains of
the water curlew Madame de la Tour answered his sorrowful notes in the
following sonnet:--
SONNET
TO THE CURLEW.
Sooth'd by the murmurs on the sea-beat shore
His dun grey plumage floating to the gale,
The curlew blends his melancholy wail
With those hoarse sounds the rushing waters pour.
Like thee, congenial bird: my steps explore
The bleak lone seabeach, or the rocky dale,
And shun the orange bower, the myrtle vale,
Whose gay luxuriance suits my soul no more.
I love the ocean's broad expanse, when dress'd
In limpid clearness, or when tempests blow.
When the smooth currents on its placid breast
Flow calm, as my past moments us'd to flow;
Or when its troubled waves refuse to rest,
And seem the symbol of my present wo.
"Our repasts were succeeded by the songs and dances of the two young
people. Virginia sang the happiness of pastoral life, and the misery of
those who were impelled, by avarice, to cross the furious ocean, rather
than cultivate the earth, and enjoy its peaceful bounties. Sometimes she
performed a pantomime with Paul, in the manner of the negroes. The first
language of man is pantomime; it is known to all nations, and is so natural
and so expressive, that the children of the European inhabitants catch it
with facility from the negroes. Virginia recalling, amongst the histories
which her mother had read to her, those which had affected her most,
represented the principal events with beautiful simplicity. Sometimes at
the sound of Domingo's tantam she appeared upon the greensward, bearing a
pitcher upon her head, and advanced with a timid step towards the source of
a neighbouring fountain, to draw water. Domingo and Mary, who personated
the shepherds of Midian, forbade her to approach, and repulsed her sternly.
Upon which Paul flew to her succour, beat away the shepherds, filled
Virginia's pitcher, and placing it upon her head, bound her brows at the
same time with a wreath of the red flowers of the Madagascar periwinkle,
which served to heighten the delicacy of her skin. Then, joining their
sports, I took upon me the part of Raguel, and bestowed upon Paul my
daughter Zephora in marriage.
"Sometimes Virginia represented the unfortunate Ruth, returning poor and
widowed to her own country, where after so long an absence, she found
herself as in a foreign land. Domingo and Mary personated the reapers.
Virginia followed their steps, gleaning here and there a few ears of corn.
She was interrogated by Paul with the gravity of a patriarch, and answered,
with a faltering voice, his questions. Soon touched with compassion, he
granted an asylum to innocence, and hospitality to misfortune. He filled
Virginia's lap with plenty; and, leading her towards us, as before the old
men of the city, declared his purpose to take her in marriage. At this
scene, Madame de la Tour, recalling the desolate situation in which she had
been left by her relations, her widowhood, the kind reception she had met
with from Margaret, succeeded by the soothing hope of a happy union between
their children, could not forbear weeping; and the sensations which such
recollections excited led the whole audience to pour forth those luxurious
tears which have their mingled source in sorrow and in joy.
"These dramas were performed with such an air of reality, that you might
have fancied yourself transported to the plains of Syria or of Palestine.
We were not unfurnished, with either decorations, lights, or an orchestra,
suitable to the representation. The scene was generally placed in an
opening of the forest, where such parts of the wood as were penetrable
formed around us numerous arcades of foliage, beneath which we were
sheltered from the heat during the whole day; but when the sun descended
towards the horizon, its rays, broken upon the trunks of the trees,
diverged amongst the shadows of the forest in strong lines of light, which
produced the most sublime effect. Sometimes the whole of its broad disk
appeared at the end of an avenue, spreading one dazzling mass of
brightness. The foliage of the trees, illuminated from beneath by its
saffron beams, glowed with the lustre of the topaz and the emerald. Their
brown and mossy trunks appeared transformed into columns of antique bronze;
and the birds, which had retired in silence to their leafy shades to pass
the night, surprised to see the radiance of a second morning, hailed the
star of day with innumerable carols.
"Night soon overtook us during those rural entertainments; but the purity
of the air, and the mildness of the climate, admitted of our sleeping in
the woods secure from the injuries of the weather, and no less secure from
the molestation of robbers. At our return the following day to our
respective habitations, we found them exactly in the same state in which
they had been left. In this island, which then had no commerce, there was
so much simplicity and good faith, that the doors of several houses were
without a key, and a lock was an object of curiosity to many of the
natives.
"Amidst the luxuriant beauty of this favoured climate, Madame de la Tour
often regretted the quick succession from day to night which takes place
between the tropics, and which deprived her pensive mind of that hour of
twilight, the softened gloom of which is so soothing and sacred to the
feelings of tender melancholy. This regret is expressed in the following
sonnet:--
SONNET
TO THE TORRID ZONE.
Pathway of light! o'er thy empurpled zone
With lavish charms perennial summer strays;
Soft 'midst thy spicy groves the zephyr plays,
While far around the rich perfumes are thrown:
The amadavid bird for thee alone
Spreads his gay plumes, that catch thy vivid rays,
For thee the gems with liquid lustre blaze,
And Nature's various wealth is all thy own.
But, ah! not thine is twilight's doubtful gloom,
Those mild gradations, mingling day with night;
Here instant darkness shrouds thy genial bloom,
Nor leaves my pensive soul that lingering light,
When musing memory would each trace resume
Of fading pleasures in successive flight.
"Paul and Virginia had neither clock nor almanac, nor books of chronology,
history, or philosophy. The periods of their lives were regulated by those
of nature. They knew the hours of the day by the shadows of the trees, the
seasons by the times when those trees bore flowers or fruit, and the years
by the number of their harvests. These soothing images diffused an
inexpressible charm over their conversation. 'It is time to dine,' said
Virginia, 'the shadows of the plantain trees are at their roots; or, 'night
approaches; the tamarinds close their leaves.' 'When will you come to see
us?' inquired some of her companions in the neighbourhood. 'At the time of
the sugar canes,' answered Virginia. 'Your visit will be then still more
delightful,' resumed her young acquaintances. When she was asked what was
her own age, and that of Paul, 'My brother,' said she, 'is as old as the
great cocoa tree of the fountain; and I am as old as the little cocoa tree.
The mangoes have borne fruit twelve times, and the orange trees have borne
flowers four-and-twenty times, since I came into the world.' Their lives
seemed linked to the trees like those of fauns or dryads. They knew no
other historical epochas than that of the lives of their mothers, no other
chronology than that of their orchards, and no other philosophy than that
of doing good, and resigning themselves to the will of Heaven.
"Thus grew those children of nature. No care had troubled their peace, no
intemperance had corrupted their blood, no misplaced passion had depraved
their hearts. Love, innocence, and piety, possessed their souls; and those
intellectual graces unfolded themselves in their features, their attitudes,
and their motions. Still in the morning of life, they had all its blooming
freshness; and surely such in the garden of Eden appeared our first
parents, when, coming from the hands of God, they first saw, approached,
and conversed together, like brother and sister. Virginia was gentle,
modest, and confiding as Eve; and Paul, like Adam, united the figure of
manhood with the simplicity of a child.
"When alone with Virginia, he has a thousand times told me, he used to say
to her, at his return from labour, 'When I am wearied, the sight of you
refreshes me. If from the summit of the mountain I perceive you below in
the valley, you appear to me in the midst of our orchard like a blushing
rosebud. If you go towards our mother's house, the partridge, when it runs
to meet its young has a shape less beautiful, and a step less light. When I
lose sight of you through the trees, I have no need to see you in order to
find you again. Something of you, I know not how, remains for me in the air
where you have passed, in the grass where you have been seated. When I come
near you, you delight all my senses. The azure of heaven is less charming
than the blue of your eyes, and the song of the amadavid bird less soft
than the sound of your voice. If I only touch you with my finger, my whole
frame trembles with pleasure. Do you remember the day when we crossed over
the great stones of the river of the Three Peaks; I was very much tired
before we reached the bank; but as soon as I had taken you in my arms, I
seemed to have wings like a bird. Tell me by what charm you have so
enchanted me? Is it by your wisdom? Our mothers have more than either of
us. Is it by your caresses? They embrace me much oftener than you. I think
it must be by your goodness. I shall never forget how you walked barefooted
to the Black River, to ask pardon for the poor wandering; slave. Here, my
beloved, take this flowering orange branch, which I have culled in the
forest; you will place it at night near your bed. Eat this honeycomb, which
I have taken for you from the top of a rock. But first lean upon my bosom,
and I shall be refreshed.'
"Virginia then answered, 'Oh my dear brother, the rays of the sun in the
morning at the top of the rocks give me less joy than the sight of you. I
love my mother, I love yours; but when they call you their son, I love them
a thousand times more. When they caress you, I feel it more sensibly than
when I am caressed myself. You ask me why you love me. Why, all creatures
that are brought up together love one another. Look at our birds reared up
in the same nests; they love like us; they are always together like us.
Hark? how they call and answer from one tree to another. So when the echoes
bring to my ears the air which you play upon your flute at the top of the
mountain, I repeat the words at the bottom of the valley. Above all, you
are dear to me since the day when you wanted to fight the master of the
slave for me. Since that time how often have I said to myself, 'Ah, my
brother has a good heart; but for him I should have died of terror.' I pray
to God every day for my mother and yours; for you, and for our poor
servants; but when I pronounce your name, my devotion seems to increase, I
ask so earnestly of God that no harm may befal you! Why do you go so far,
and climb so high, to seek fruits and flowers for me? How much you are
fatigued!' and with her little white handkerchief she wiped the damps from
his brow.
"For some time past, however, Virginia had felt her heart agitated by new
sensations. Her fine blue eyes lost their lustre, her cheek its freshness,
and her frame was seized with universal languor. Serenity no longer sat
upon her brow, nor smiles played upon her lips. She became suddenly gay
without joy, and melancholy without vexation. She fled her innocent sports,
her gentle labours, and the society of her beloved family; wandering along
the most unfrequented parts of the plantation, and seeking every where that
rest which she could no where find. Sometimes, at the sight of Paul, she
advanced sportively towards him, and, when going to accost him, was seized
with sudden confusion: her pale cheeks were overspread with blushes, and
her eyes no longer dared to meet those of her brother. Paul said to her,
'The rocks are covered with verdure, our birds begin to sing when you
approach, every thing around you is gay, and you only are unhappy.' He
endeavoured to soothe her by his embraces; but she turned away her head,
and fled trembling towards her mother. The caresses of her brother excited
too much emotion in her agitated heart. Paul could not comprehend the
meaning of those new and strange caprices.
"One of those summers, which sometimes desolate the countries situated
between the tropics, now spread its ravages over this island. It was near
the end of December, when the sun in Capricorn darts over Mauritius, during
the space of three weeks, its vertical fires. The south wind, which
prevails almost throughout the whole year, no longer blew. Vast columns of
dust arose from the highways, and hung suspended in the air: the ground was
every where broken into clefts; the grass was burnt; hot exhalations issued
from the sides of the mountains, and their rivulets, for the most part
became dry: fiery vapours, during the day, ascended from the plains, and
appeared, at the setting of the sun, like a conflagration. Night brought no
coolness to the heated atmosphere: the orb of the moon seemed of blood,
and, rising in a misty horizon, appeared of supernatural magnitude. The
drooping cattle, on the sides of the hills, stretching out their necks
towards heaven, and panting for air, made the valleys reecho with their
melancholy lowings; even the Caffree, by whom they were led, threw himself
upon the earth, in search of coolness; but the scorching sun had every
where penetrated, and the stifling atmosphere resounded with the buzzing
noise of insects, who sought to allay their thirst in the blood of man and
of animals.
"On one of those sultry nights Virginia, restless and unhappy, arose, then
went again to rest, but could find in no attitude either slumber or repose.
At length she bent her way, by the light of the moon, towards her fountain,
and gazed at its spring, which, notwithstanding the drought, still flowed
like silver threads down the brown sides of the rock. She flung herself
into the basin; its coolness reanimated her spirits, and a thousand
soothing remembrances presented themselves to her mind. She recollected
that in her infancy her mother and Margaret amused themselves by bathing
her with Paul in this very spot; that Paul afterwards, reserving this bath
for her use only, had dug its bed, covered the bottom with sand, and sown
aromatic herbs around the borders. She saw, reflected through the water
upon her naked arms and bosom, the two cocoa trees which were planted at
her birth and that of her brother, and which interwove about her head their
green branches and young fruit. She thought of Paul's friendship, sweeter
than the odours, purer than the waters of the fountains, stronger than the
intertwining palm trees, and she sighed. Reflecting upon the hour of the
night, and the profound solitude, her imagination again grew disordered.
Suddenly she flew affrighted from those dangerous shades, and those waters
which she fancied hotter than the torrid sunbeam, and ran to her mother, in
order to find a refuge from herself. Often, wishing to unfold her
sufferings, she pressed her mother's hand within her own; often she was
ready to pronounce the name of Paul; but her oppressed heart left not her
lips the power of utterance; and, leaning her head on her mother's bosom,
she could only bathe it with her tears.
"Madame de la Tour, though she easily discerned the source of her
daughter's uneasiness, did not think proper to speak to her on that
subject. 'My dear child,' said she, address yourself to God, who disposes,
at his will, of health and of life. He tries you now, in order to
recompense you hereafter. Remember that we are only placed upon earth for
the exercise of virtue.'
"The excessive heat drew vapours from the ocean, which hung over the island
like a vast awning, and slithered round the summits of the mountains, while
long flakes of fire occasionally issued from their misty peaks. Soon after
the most terrible thunder reechoed through the woods, the plains and the
valleys; the rains fell from the skies like cataracts; foaming torrents
rolled down the sides of the mountain; the bottom of the valley became a
sea; the plat of ground on which the cottages were built, a little island:
and the entrance of this valley a sluice, along which rushed precipitately
the moaning waters, earth, trees, and rocks.
"Meantime the trembling family addressed their prayers to God in the
cottage of Madame de la Tour, the roof of which cracked horribly from the
struggling winds. So vivid and frequent were the lightnings, that, although
the doors and window-shutters were well fastened, every object without was
distinctly seen through the jointed beams. Paul, followed by Domingo, went
with intrepidity from one cottage to another, notwithstanding the fury of
the tempest; here supporting a partition with a buttress, there driving in
a stake, and only returning to the family to calm their fears, by the hope
that the storm was passing away. Accordingly, in the evening the rains
ceased, the trade-winds of the south pursued their ordinary course, the
tempestuous clouds were thrown towards the north-east, and the setting sun
appeared in the horizon.
"Virginia's first wish was to visit the spot called her _Repose_. Paul
approached her with a timid air, and offered her the assistance of his arm,
which she accepted, smiling, and they left the cottage together. The air
was fresh and clear; white vapours arose from the ridges of the mountains,
furrowed here and there by the foam of the torrents, which were now
becoming dry. The garden was altogether destroyed by the hollows which the
floods had worn, the roots of the fruit trees were for the most part laid
bare, and vast heaps of sand covered the chain of meadows, and choked up
Virginia's bath. The two cocoa trees, however, were still erect, and still
retained their freshness: but they were no longer surrounded by turf, or
arbours, or birds, except a few amadavid birds, who, upon the points of the
neighbouring rocks, lamented, in plaintive notes, the loss of their young.
"At the sight of this general desolation, Virginia exclaimed to Paul, 'You
brought birds hither, and the hurricane has killed them. You planted this
garden, and it is now destroyed. Every thing then upon earth perishes, and
it is only heaven that is not subject to change.' 'Why,' answered Paul,
'why cannot I give you something which belongs to heaven? but I am
possessed of nothing even upon earth.' Virginia, blushing, resumed, 'You
have the picture of Saint Paul.' Scarcely had she pronounced the words,
when he flew in search of it to his mother's cottage. This picture was a
small miniature, representing Paul the Hermit, and which Margaret, who was
very pious, had long worn hung at her neck when she was a girl, and which,
since she became a mother, she had placed round the neck of her child. It
had even happened, that being while pregnant, abandoned by the whole world,
and continually employed in contemplating the image of this benevolent
recluse, her offspring had contracted, at least so she fancied, some
resemblance to this revered object. She therefore bestowed upon him the
name of Paul, giving him for his patron a saint, who had passed his life
far from mankind, by whom he had been first deceived, and then forsaken.
Virginia, upon receiving this little picture from the hands of Paul, said
to him, with emotion, 'My dear brother, I will never part with this while I
live; nor will I ever forget that you have given me the only thing which
you possess in the world.' At this tone of friendship this unhoped-for
return of familiarity and tenderness, Paul attempted to embrace her; but,
light as a bird, she fled, and left him astonished, and unable to account
for a conduct so extraordinary.
"Meanwhile Margaret said to Madame de la Tour, 'Why do we not unite our
children by marriage? They have a tender attachment to each other.' Madame
de la Tour replied, 'They are too young, and too poor. What grief would it
occasion us to see Virginia bring into the world unfortunate children, whom
she would not perhaps have sufficient strength to rear! Your negro,
Domingo, is almost too old to labour; Mary is infirm. As for myself, my
dear friend, in the space of fifteen years I find my strength much failed;
age advances rapidly in hot climates, and, above all, under the pressure of
misfortune. Paul is our only hope: let us wait till his constitution is
strengthened, and till he can support us by his labour: at present you well
know that we have only sufficient to supply the wants of the day: but were
we to send Paul for a short time to the Indies, commerce would furnish him
with the means of purchasing a slave; and at his return we will unite him
to Virginia: for I am persuaded no one on earth can render her so happy as
your son. We will consult our neighbour on this subject.
"They accordingly asked my advice, and I was of their opinion. 'The Indian
seas,' I observed to them, are calm, and, in choosing a favourable season,
the voyage is seldom longer than six weeks. We will furnish Paul with a
little venture in my neighbourhood, where he is much beloved. If we were
only to supply him with some raw cotton, of which we make no use, for want
of mills to work it, some ebony, which is here so common, that it serves us
for firing, and some resin, which is found in our woods: all those articles
will sell advantageously in the Indies, though to us they are useless.'
"I engaged to obtain permission from Monsieur de la Bourdonnais to
undertake this voyage: but I determined previously to mention the affair to
Paul; and my surprise was great, when this young man said to me, with a
degree of good sense above his age, 'And why do you wish me to leave my
family for this precarious pursuit of fortune? Is there any commerce more
advantageous than the culture of the ground, which yields sometimes fifty
or a hundred fold? If we wish to engage in commerce, we can do so by
carrying our superfluities to the town, without my wandering to the Indies.
Our mothers tell me, that Domingo is old and feeble; but I am young, and
gather strength every day. If any accident should happen during my absence,
above all, to Virginia, who already suffers--Oh, no, no!--I cannot resolve
to learn them.'
"This answer threw me into great perplexity, for Madame de la Tour had not
concealed from me the situation of Virginia, and her desire of separating
those young people for a few years. These ideas I did not dare to suggest
to Paul.
"At this period, a ship, which arrived from France, brought Madame de la
Tour a letter from her aunt. Alarmed by the terrors of approaching death,
which could alone penetrate a heart so insensible, recovering from a
dangerous disorder, which had left her in a state of weakness, rendered
incurable by age, she desired that her niece would return to France; or, if
her health forbade her to undertake so long a voyage, she conjured her to
send Virginia, on whom she would bestow a good education, procure for her a
splendid marriage, and leave her the inheritance of her whole fortune. The
perusal of this letter spread general consternation through the family.
Domingo and Mary began to weep. Paul, motionless with surprise, appeared as
if his heart was ready to burst with indignation; while Virginia, fixing
her eyes upon her mother, had not power to utter a word.
"'And can you now leave us?' cried Margaret to Madame de la Tour. 'No, my
dear friend, no, my beloved children,' replied Madame de la Tour; 'I will
not leave you. I have lived with you, and with you I will die. I have known
no happiness but in your affection. If my health be deranged, my past
misfortunes are the cause. My heart, deeply wounded by the cruelty of a
relation, and the loss of my husband, has found more consolation and
felicity with you beneath these humble huts, than all the wealth of my
family could now give me in my own country.'