"She had put those seeds into a little purse, the tissue of which was extremely simple; but which appeared above all price to Paul, when he perceived a P and a V intwined together, and knew that the beautiful hair which formed the cipher was the hair of Virginia.

"The whole family listened with tears to the letter of that amiable and virtuous young woman. Her mother answered it in the name of the little society, and desired her to remain or return as she thought proper; a.s.suring her, that happiness had fled from their dwelling since her departure, and that, as for herself, she was inconsolable.

"Paul also sent her a long letter, in which he a.s.sured her that he would arrange the garden in a manner agreeable to her taste, and blend the plants of Europe with those of Africa. He sent her some fruit culled from the cocoa trees of the mountain, which were now arrived at maturity: telling her that he would not add any more of the other seeds of the island, that the desire of seeing those productions again might hasten her return. He conjured her to comply without delay with the ardent wishes of her family, and, above all, with his own, since he was unable to endure the pain of their separation.

"With a careful hand Paul sowed the European seeds, particularly the violet and the scabious, the flowers of which seem to bear some a.n.a.logy to the character and situation of Virginia, by whom they had been recommended: but whether they were injured by the voyage, or whether the soil of this part of Africa is unfavourable to their growth, a very small number of them blew, and none came to perfection.

"Meanwhile that envy, which pursues human happiness, spread reports over the island which gave great uneasiness to Paul. The persons who had brought Virginia's letter a.s.serted that she was upon the point of being married, and named the n.o.bleman of the court with whom she was going to be united.

Some even declared that she was already married, of which they were witnesses. Paul at first despised this report, brought by one of those trading ships, which often spread erroneous intelligence in their pa.s.sage; but some ill-natured persons, by their insulting pity, led him to give some degree of credit to this cruel intelligence. Besides, he had seen in the novels which he had lately read that perfidy was treated as a subject of pleasantry; and knowing that those books were faithful representations of European manners, he feared that the heart of Virginia was corrupted, and had forgotten its former engagements. Thus his acquirements only served to render him miserable, and what increased his apprehension was, that several ships arrived from Europe, during the s.p.a.ce of six months, and not one brought any tidings of Virginia.

"This unfortunate young man, with a heart torn by the most cruel agitation, came often to visit me, that I might confirm or banish his inquietude, by my experience of the world.

"I live, as I have already told you, a league and a half from hence, upon the banks of a little river which glides along the Sloping Mountain: there I lead a solitary life, without wife, children, or slaves.

"After having enjoyed, and lost, the rare felicity of living with a congenial mind, the state of life which appears the least wretched is that of solitude. It is remarkable that all those nations which have been rendered unhappy by their political opinions, their manners, or their forms of government, have produced numerous cla.s.ses of citizens altogether devoted to solitude and celibacy. Such were the Egyptians in their decline, the Greeks of the lower empire; and such in our days are the Indians, the Chinese, the modern Greeks, the Italians, and most part of the eastern and southern nations of Europe.

"Thus I pa.s.s my days far from mankind whom I wished to serve, and by whom I have been persecuted. After having travelled over many countries of Europe, and some parts of America and Africa, I at length pitched my tent in this thinly-peopled island, allured by its mild temperature and its solitude. A cottage which I built in the woods, at the foot of a tree, a little field which I cultivated with my own hands, a river which glides before my door, suffice for my wants and for my pleasures. I blend with those enjoyments that of some chosen books, which teach me to become better. They make that world, which I have abandoned, still contribute to my satisfaction. They place before me pictures of those pa.s.sions which render its inhabitants so miserable; and the comparison which I make between their destiny and my own, leads me to feel a sort of negative happiness. Like a man whom shipwreck has thrown upon a rock, I contemplate, from my solitude, the storms which roll over the rest of the world; and my repose seems more profound from the distant sounds of the tempest.

"I suffer myself to be led calmly down the stream of time to the ocean of futurity, which has no boundaries; while, in the contemplation of the present harmony of nature, I raise my soul towards its supreme Author, and hope for a more happy destiny in another state of existence.

"Although you do not descry my hermitage, which is situated in the midst of a forest, among that immense variety of objects which this elevated spot presents, the grounds are disposed with particular beauty, at least to one who, like me, loves rather the seclusion of a home scene, than great and extensive prospects. The river which glides before my door pa.s.ses in a straight line across the woods, and appears like a long ca.n.a.l shaded by trees of all kinds. There are black date plum trees, what we here call the narrow-leaved dodonea, olive wood, gum trees, and the cinnamon tree; while in some parts the cabbage trees raise their naked columns more than a hundred feet high, crowned at their summits with cl.u.s.tering leaves, and towering above the wood like one forest piled upon another. Lianas, of various foliage, intertwining among the woods, form arcades of flowers, and verdant canopies; those trees, for the most part, shed aromatic odours of a nature so powerful, that the garments of a traveller, who has pa.s.sed through the forest, retain for several hours the delicious fragrance. In the season when those trees produce their lavish blossoms, they appear as if covered with snow. One of the princ.i.p.al ornaments of our woods is the calba.s.sia, a tree not only distinguished for its beautiful tint of verdure; but for other properties, which Madame de la Tour has described in the following sonnet, written at one of her first visits to my hermitage:

SONNET

TO THE CALBa.s.sIA TREE

Sublime Calba.s.sia, luxuriant tree!

How soft the gloom thy bright-lined foliage throws, While from thy pulp a healing balsam flows, Whose power the suffering wretch from pain can free!

My pensive footsteps ever turn to thee!

Since oft, while musing on my lasting woes, Beneath thy flowery white bells I repose, Symbol of friendship dost thou seem to me; For thus has friendship cast her soothing shade O'er my unsheltered bosom's keen distress: Thus sought to heal the wounds which love has made, And temper bleeding sorrow's sharp excess!

Ah! not in vain she lends her balmy aid: The agonies she cannot cure, are less!

"Towards the end of summer various kinds of foreign birds hasten, impelled by an inexplicable instinct, from unknown regions, and across immense oceans, to gather the profuse grains of this island; and the brilliancy of their expanded plumage forms a contrast to the trees embrowned by the sun.

Such, among others, are various kinds of paroquets, the blue pigeon, called here the pigeon of Holland, and the wandering and majestic white bird of the Tropic, which Madame de la Tour thus apostrophised:--

SONNET

TO THE WHITE BIRD OF THE TROPIC.

Bird of the Tropic! thou, who lov'st to stray Where thy long pinions sweep the sultry line, Or mark'st the bounds which torrid beams confine By thy averted course, that shuns the ray Oblique, enamour'd of sublimer day: Oft on yon cliff thy folded plumes recline, And drop those snowy feathers Indians twine To crown the warrior's brow with honours gay.

O'er Trackless oceans what impels thy wing?

Does no soft instinct in thy soul prevail?

No sweet affection to thy bosom cling, And bid thee oft thy absent nest bewail?

Yet thou again to that dear spot canst spring But I my long lost home no more shall hail!

"The domestic inhabitants of our forests, monkeys, sport upon the dark branches of the trees, from which they are distinguished by their gray and greenish skin, and their black visages. Some hang suspended by the tail, and balance themselves in air; others leap from branch to branch, bearing their young in their arms. The murderous gun has never affrighted those peaceful children of nature. You sometimes hear the warblings of unknown birds from the southern countries, repeated at a distance by the echoes of the forest. The river, which runs in foaming cataracts over a bed of rocks, reflects here and there, upon its limpid waters, venerable ma.s.ses of woody shade, together with the sport of its happy inhabitants. About a thousand paces from thence the river precipitates itself over several piles of rocks, and forms, in its fall, a sheet of water smooth as crystal, but which breaks at the bottom into frothy surges. Innumerable confused sounds issue from those tumultuous waters, which, scattered by the winds of the forest, sometimes sink, sometimes swell, and send forth a hollow tone like the deep bells of a cathedral. The air, for ever renewed by the circulation of the waters, fans the banks of that river with freshness, and leaves a degree of verdure, notwithstanding the summer heats, rarely found in this island, even upon the summits of the mountains.

"At some distance is a rock, placed far enough from the cascade to prevent the ear from being deafened by the noise of its waters, and sufficiently near for the enjoyment of their view, their coolness, and their murmurs.

Thither, amidst the heats of summer, Madame de la Tour, Margaret, Virginia, Paul, and myself sometimes repaired, and dined beneath the shadow of the rock. Virginia, who always directed her most ordinary actions to the good of others, never ate of any fruit without planting the seed or kernel in the ground. 'From this,' said she, 'trees will come, which will give their fruit to some traveller, or at least to some bird.' One day having eaten of the papaw fruit, at the foot of that rock she planted the seeds. Soon after several papaws sprung up, amongst which was one that yielded fruit. This tree had risen but a little from the ground at the time of Virginia's departure; but its growth being rapid, in the s.p.a.ce of two years it had gained twenty feet of height, and the upper part of its stem was encircled with several layers of ripe fruit. Paul having wandered to that spot, was delighted to see that this lofty tree had arisen from the small seed planted by his beloved friend; but that emotion instantly gave place to a deep melancholy, at this evidence of her long absence. The objects which we see habitually do not remind us of the rapidity of life; they decline insensibly with ourselves; but those which we behold again, after having for some years lost sight of them, impress us powerfully with the idea of that swiftness with which the tide of our days flows on. Paul was no less overwhelmed and affected at the sight of this great papaw tree, loaded with fruit, than is the traveller, when, after a long absence from his own country, he finds not his contemporaries, but their children, whom he left at the breast, and whom he sees are become fathers of families. Paul sometimes thought of hewing down the tree, which recalled too sensibly the distracted image of that length of time which had clasped since the departure of Virginia. Sometimes, contemplating it as a monument of her benevolence, he kissed its trunk, and apostrophised it in terms of the most pa.s.sionate regret; and, indeed I have myself gazed upon it with more emotion and more veneration than upon the triumphal arches of Rome.

"At the foot of this papaw I was always sure to meet with Paul when he came into our neighbourhood. One day, when I found him absorbed in melancholy, we had a conversation, which I will relate to you, if I do not weary you by my long digressions; perhaps pardonable to my age and my last friendships.

"Paul said to me, 'I am very unhappy. Mademoiselle de la Tour has now been gone two years and two months; and we have heard no tidings of her for eight months and two weeks. She is rich, and I am poor. She has forgotten me. I have a great mind to follow her. I will go to France; I will serve the king; make a fortune; and then Mademoiselle de la Tour's aunt will bestow her niece upon me when I shall have become a great lord.

"'But, my dear friend,' I answered, 'have you not told me that you are not of n.o.ble birth?'

"'My mother has told me so,' said Paul. 'As for myself I know not what n.o.ble birth means.'

"'Obscure birth,' I replied, 'in France shuts out all access to great employments; nor can you even be received among any distinguished body of men.'

"'How unfortunate I am!' resumed Paul; 'every thing repulses me. I am condemned to waste my wretched life in labour, far from Virginia.' And he heaved a deep sigh.

"'Since her relation,' he added, 'will only give her in marriage to some one with a great name, by the aid of study we become wise and celebrated. I will fly then to study; I will acquire sciences; I will serve my country usefully by my attainments; I shall be independent; I shall become renowned; and my glory will belong only to myself.'

"'My son! talents are still more rare than birth or riches, and are undoubtedly an inestimable good, of which nothing can deprive us, and which every where conciliate public esteem. But they cost dear: they are generally allied to exquisite sensibility, which renders their possessor miserable. But you tell me that you would serve mankind. He who, from the soil which he cultivates, draws forth one additional sheaf of corn, serves mankind more than he who presents them with a book.'

"'Oh! she then,' exclaimed Paul, 'who planted this papaw tree, made a present to the inhabitants of the forest more dear and more useful than if she had given them a library.' And seizing the tree in his arms, he kissed it with transport.

"'Ah! I desire glory only,' he resumed, 'to confer it upon Virginia, and render her dear to the whole universe. But you, who know so much, tell me if we shall ever be married. I wish I was at least learned enough to look into futurity. Virginia must come back. What need has she of a rich relation? she was so happy in those huts, so beautiful, and so well dressed, with a red handkerchief or flowers round her head! Return, Virginia! Leave your palaces, your splendour! Return to these rocks, to the shade of our woods and our cocoa trees! Alas! you are, perhaps, unhappy!'

And he began to weep. 'My father! conceal nothing from me. If you cannot tell me whether I shall marry Virginia or no, tell me, at least, if she still loves me amidst those great lords who speak to the king, and go to see her.'

"'Oh! my dear friend,' I answered, 'I am sure that she loves you, for several reasons; but, above all, because she is virtuous.' At those words he threw himself upon my neck in a transport of joy.

"'But what,' said he, 'do you understand by virtue?'

"'My son! to you, who support your family by your labour, it need not be defined. Virtue is an effort which we make for the good of others, and with the intention of pleasing G.o.d.'

"'Oh! how virtuous then,' cried he, 'is Virginia! Virtue made her seek for riches, that she might practise benevolence. Virtue led her to forsake this island, and virtue will bring her back.' The idea of her near return fired his imagination, and his inquietudes suddenly vanished. Virginia, he was persuaded, had not written, because she would soon arrive. It took so little time to come from Europe with a fair wind! Then he enumerated the vessels which had made a pa.s.sage of four thousand five hundred leagues in less than three months; and perhaps the vessel in which Virginia had embarked might not be longer than two. Ship builders were now so ingenious, and sailors so expert! He then told me of the arrangements he would make for her reception, of the new habitation he would build for her, of the pleasures and surprises which each day should bring along with it when she was his wife? His wife! That hope was ecstasy. 'At least, my dear father,'

said he, 'you shall then do nothing more than you please. Virginia being rich, we shall have a number of negroes, who will labour for you. You shall always live with us, and have no other care than to amuse and rejoice yourself:' and, his heart throbbing with delight, he flew to communicate those exquisite sensations to his family.

"In a short time, however, the most cruel apprehensions succeeded those enchanting hopes. Violent pa.s.sions ever throw the soul into opposite extremes. Paul returned to my dwelling absorbed in melancholy, and said to me, 'I hear nothing from Virginia. Had she left Europe she would have informed me of her departure. Ah! the reports which I have heard concerning her are but too well founded. Her aunt has married her to some great lord.

She, like others, has been undone by the love of riches. In those books which paint women so well, virtue is but a subject of romance. Had Virginia been virtuous, she would not have forsaken her mother and me, and, while I pa.s.s life in thinking of her, forgotten me. While I am wretched, she is happy. Ah! that thought distracts me: labour becomes painful, and society irksome. Would to heaven that war were declared in India! I would go there and die.'

"'My son,' I answered, 'that courage which, prompts us to court death is but the courage of a moment, and is often excited by the vain hopes of posthumous fame. There is a species of courage more necessary, and more rare, which makes us support, without witness, and without applause, the various vexations of life; and that is, patience. Leaning not upon the opinions of others, but upon the will of G.o.d, patience is the courage of virtue.'

"'Ah!' cried he,' I am then without virtue! Every thing overwhelms and distracts me.'

"'Equal, constant, and invariable virtue,' I replied, 'belongs not to man.'

In the midst of so many pa.s.sions, by which we are agitated, our reason is disordered and obscured: but there is an ever-burning lamp, at which we can rekindle its flame; and that is, literature.

"'Literature, my dear son, is the gift of Heaven; a ray of that wisdom which governs the universe; and which man, inspired by celestial intelligence, has drawn down to earth. Like the sun, it enlightens, it rejoices, it warms with a divine flame, and seems, in some sort, like the element of fire, to bend all nature to our use. By the aid of literature, we bring around us all things, all places, men, and times. By its aid we calm the pa.s.sions, suppress vice, and excite virtue. Literature is the daughter of heaven, who has descended upon earth to soften and to charm all human evils.

"'Have recourse to your books, then, my son. The sages who have written before our days, are travellers who have preceded us in the paths of misfortune; who stretch out a friendly hand towards us, and invite us to join their society, when every thing else abandons us. A good book is a good friend.'

"'Ah!' cried Paul, 'I stood in no need of books when Virginia was here, and she had studied as little as me: but when she looked at me, and called me her friend, it was impossible for me to be unhappy.'

"'Undoubtedly,' said I, 'there is no friend so agreeable as a mistress by whom we are beloved. There is in the gay graces of a woman a charm that dispels the dark phantoms of reflection. Upon her face sits soft attraction and tender confidence. What joy is not heightened in which she shares? What brow is not unbent by her smiles? What anger can resist her tears? Virginia will return with more philosophy than you, and will be surprised not to find the garden finished: she who thought of its establishments amidst the persecutions of her aunt, and far from her mother and from you.'

"The idea of Virginia's speedy return reanimated her lover's courage, and he resumed his pastoral occupations; happy amidst his toils, in the reflection that they would find a termination so dear to the wishes of his heart.