I built in the woods, at the foot of a tree,a little field which I cleared with my own hands, a river which glidesbefore my door, suffice for my wants and for my pleasures. I blend withthese enjoyments the perusal of some chosen books, which teach me tobecome better. They make that world, which I have abandoned, stillcontribute something to my happiness. They lay before me pictures ofthose passions which render its inhabitants so miserable; and in thecomparison I am thus led to make between their lot and my own, I feel akind of negative enjoyment. Like a man saved from shipwreck, and thrownupon a rock, I contemplate, from my solitude, the storms which ragethrough the rest of the world; and my repose seems more profound fromthe distant sound of the tempest. As men have ceased to fall in my way,I no longer view them with aversion; I only pity them. If I sometimesfall in with an unfortunate being, I try to help him by my counsels, asa passer-by on the brink of a torrent extends his hand to save awretch from drowning. But I have hardly ever found any but the innocentattentive to my voice. Nature calls the majority of men to her in vain.Each of them forms an image of her for himself, and invests her with hisown passions. He pursues during the whole of his life this vain phantom,which leads him astray; and he afterwards complains to Heaven of themisfortunes which he has thus created for himself. Among the manychildren of misfortune whom I have endeavoured to lead back to theenjoyments of nature, I have not found one but was intoxicated with hisown miseries. They have listened to me at first with attention, in thehope that I could teach them how to acquire glory or fortune, but whenthey found that I only wished to instruct them how to dispense withthese chimeras, their attention has been converted into pity, because Idid not prize their miserable happiness. They blamed my solitary life;they alleged that they alone were useful to men, and they endeavoured todraw me into their vortex. But if I communicate with all, I lay myselfopen to none. It is often sufficient for me to serve as a lesson tomyself. In my present tranquillity, I pass in review the agitatingpursuits of my past life, to which I formerly attached so muchvalue,--patronage, fortune, reputation, pleasure, and the opinions whichare ever at strife over all the earth. I compare the men whom I haveseen disputing furiously over these vanities, and who are no more, tothe tiny waves of my rivulet, which break in foam against its rockybed, and disappear, never to return. As for me, I suffer myself tofloat calmly down the stream of time to the shoreless ocean of futurity;while, in the contemplation of the present harmony of nature, I elevatemy soul towards its supreme Author, and hope for a more happy lot inanother state of existence.
Although you cannot descry from my hermitage, situated in the midst ofa forest, that immense variety of objects which this elevated spotpresents, the grounds are disposed with peculiar beauty, at least toone who, like me, prefers the seclusion of a home scene to great andextensive prospects. The river which glides before my door passes in astraight line across the woods, looking like a long canal shaded by allkinds of trees. Among them are the gum tree, the ebony tree, and thatwhich is here called bois de pomme, with olive and cinnamon-wood trees;while in some parts the cabbage-palm trees raise their naked stemsmore than a hundred feet high, their summits crowned with a cluster ofleaves, and towering above the woods like one forest piled upon another.Lianas, of various foliage, intertwining themselves among the trees,form, here, arcades of foliage, there, long canopies of verdure. Mostof these trees shed aromatic odours so powerful, that the garments of atraveller, who has passed through the forest, often retain for hours themost delicious fragrance. In the season when they produce their lavishblossoms, they appear as if half-covered with snow. Towards the endof summer, various kinds of foreign birds hasten, impelled by someinexplicable instinct, from unknown regions on the other side of immenseoceans, to feed upon the grain and other vegetable productions of theisland; and the brilliancy of their plumage forms a striking contrast tothe more sombre tints of the foliage embrowned by the sun. Among theseare various kinds of parroquets, and the blue pigeon, called here thepigeon of Holland. Monkeys, the domestic inhabitants of our forests,sport upon the dark branches of the trees, from which they are easilydistinguished by their gray and greenish skin, and their black visages.Some hang, suspended by the tail, and swing themselves in air; othersleap from branch to branch, bearing their young in their arms. Themurderous gun has never affrighted these peaceful children of nature.You hear nothing but sounds of joy,--the warblings and unknown notes ofbirds from the countries of the south, repeated from a distance by theechoes of the forest. The river, which pours, in foaming eddies, overa bed of rocks, through the midst of the woods, reflects here and thereupon its limpid waters their venerable masses of verdure and of shade,along with the sports of their happy inhabitants. About a thousand pacesfrom thence it forms several cascades, clear as crystal in their fall,but broken at the bottom into frothy surges. Innumerable confused soundsissue from these watery tumults, which, borne by the winds across theforest, now sink in distance, now all at once swell out, booming on theear like the bells of a cathedral. The air, kept ever in motion bythe running water, preserves upon the banks of the river, amid all thesummer heats, a freshness and verdure rarely found in this island, evenon the summits of the mountains.
At some distance from this place is a rock, placed far enough from thecascade to prevent the ear from being deafened with the noise of itswaters, and sufficiently near for the enjoyment of seeing it, of feelingits coolness, and hearing its gentle murmurs. Thither, amidst the heatsof summer, Madame de la Tour, Margaret, Virginia, Paul, and myself,sometimes repaired, to dine beneath the shadow of this rock. Virginia,who always, in her most ordinary actions, was mindful of the good ofothers, never ate of any fruit in the fields without planting the seedor kernel in the ground. "From this," said she, "trees will come, whichwill yield 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, sheplanted the seeds on the spot. Soon after, several papaw trees sprangup, among which was one with female blossoms, that is to say, afruit-bearing tree. This tree, at the time of Virginia's departure, wasscarcely as high as her knee; but, as it is a plant of rapid growth, inthe course of two years it had gained the height of twenty feet, andthe upper part of its stem was encircled by several rows of ripe fruit.Paul, wandering accidentally to the spot, was struck with delight atseeing this lofty tree, which had been planted by his beloved; but theemotion was transient, and instantly gave place to a deep melancholy,at this evidence of her long absence. The objects which are habituallybefore us do not bring to our minds an adequate idea of the rapidity oflife; they decline insensibly with ourselves: but it is those we beholdagain, that most powerfully impress us with a feeling of the swiftnesswith which the tide of life flows on. Paul was no less over-whelmed andaffected at the sight of this great papaw tree, loaded with fruit, thanis the traveller when, after a long absence from his own country, hefinds his contemporaries no more, but their children, whom he left atthe breast, themselves now become fathers of families. Paul sometimesthought of cutting down the tree, which recalled too sensibly thedistracting remembrance of Virginia's prolonged absence. At other times,contemplating it as a monument of her benevolence, he kissed its trunk,and apostrophized it in terms of the most passionate regret. Indeed,I have myself gazed upon it with more emotion and more veneration thanupon the triumphal arches of Rome. May nature, which every day destroysthe monuments of kingly ambition, multiply in our forests those whichtestify the beneficence of a poor young girl!
At the foot of this papaw tree I was always sure to meet with Paul whenhe came into our neighbourhood. One day, I found him there absorbed inmelancholy and a conversation took place between us, which I will relateto you, if I do not weary you too much by my long digressions; they areperhaps pardonable to my age and to my last friendships. I will relateit to you in the form of a dialogue, that you may form some idea of thenatural good sense of this young man. You will easily distinguish thespeakers, from the character of his questions and of my answers.
_Paul._--I am very unhappy. Mademoi
selle de la Tour has now been gonetwo years and eight months and a half. She is rich, and I am poor;she has forgotten me. I have a great mind to follow her. I will goto France; I will serve the king; I will make my fortune; and thenMademoiselle de la Tour's aunt will bestow her niece upon me when Ishall have become a great lord.
_The Old Man._--But, my dear friend, have not you told me that you arenot of noble birth?
_Paul._--My mother has told me so; but, as for myself, I know not whatnoble birth means. I never perceived that I had less than others, orthat others had more than I.
_The Old Man._--Obscure birth, in France, shuts every door of access togreat employments; nor can you even be received among any distinguishedbody of men, if you labour under this disadvantage.
_Paul._--You have often told me that it was one source of the greatnessof France that her humblest subject might attain the highest honours;and you have
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