Chapter 4

"But as clouds sometimes arise which cast a gloom over the best regulated tempers, whenever melancholy took possession of any member of this little society, the rest endeavoured to banish painful thoughts rather by sentiment than by arguments. Margaret exerted her gaiety; Madame de la Tour employed her mild theology; Virginia, her tender caresses; Paul, his cordial and engaging frankness. Even Mary and Domingo hastened to offer their succour, and to weep with those that wept. Thus weak plants are interwoven, in order to resist the tempests.

"During the fine season they went every Sunday to the church of the 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.