Paul and Virginia from the French of J.B.H. de Saint Pierre
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fruit. Paul having wandered to that spot, wasdelighted to see that this lofty tree had arisen from the small seedplanted by his beloved friend; but that emotion instantly gave place to adeep melancholy, at this evidence of her long absence. The objects which wesee habitually do not remind us of the rapidity of life; they declineinsensibly with ourselves; but those which we behold again, after havingfor some years lost sight of them, impress us powerfully with the idea ofthat swiftness with which the tide of our days flows on. Paul was no lessoverwhelmed and affected at the sight of this great papaw tree, loaded withfruit, than is the traveller, when, after a long absence from his owncountry, he finds not his contemporaries, but their children, whom he leftat the breast, and whom he sees are become fathers of families. Paulsometimes thought of hewing down the tree, which recalled too sensibly thedistracted image of that length of time which had clasped since thedeparture of Virginia. Sometimes, contemplating it as a monument of herbenevolence, he kissed its trunk, and apostrophised it in terms of the mostpassionate regret; and, indeed I have myself gazed upon it with moreemotion 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 cameinto 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 bymy 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 beengone two years and two months; and we have heard no tidings of her foreight months and two weeks. She is rich, and I am poor. She has forgottenme. I have a great mind to follow her. I will go to France; I will servethe king; make a fortune; and then Mademoiselle de la Tour's aunt willbestow 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 notof noble birth?'
"'My mother has told me so,' said Paul. 'As for myself I know not whatnoble birth means.'
"'Obscure birth,' I replied, 'in France shuts out all access to greatemployments; nor can you even be received among any distinguished body ofmen.'
"'How unfortunate I am!' resumed Paul; 'every thing repulses me. I amcondemned to waste my wretched life in labour, far from Virginia.' And heheaved a deep sigh.
"'Since her relation,' he added, 'will only give her in marriage to someone with a great name, by the aid of study we become wise and celebrated. Iwill fly then to study; I will acquire sciences; I will serve my countryusefully by my attainments; I shall be independent; I shall becomerenowned; and my glory will belong only to myself.'
"'My son! talents are still more rare than birth or riches, and areundoubtedly an inestimable good, of which nothing can deprive us, and whichevery where conciliate public esteem. But they cost dear: they aregenerally allied to exquisite sensibility, which renders their possessormiserable. But you tell me that you would serve mankind. He who, from thesoil which he cultivates, draws forth one additional sheaf of corn, servesmankind more than he who presents them with a book.'
"'Oh! she then,' exclaimed Paul, 'who planted this papaw tree, made apresent to the inhabitants of the forest more dear and more useful than ifshe had given them a library.' And seizing the tree in his arms, he kissedit with transport.
"'Ah! I desire glory only,' he resumed, 'to confer it upon Virginia, andrender her dear to the whole universe. But you, who know so much, tell meif we shall ever be married. I wish I was at least learned enough to lookinto futurity. Virginia must come back. What need has she of a richrelation? she was so happy in those huts, so beautiful, and so welldressed, with a red handkerchief or flowers round her head! Return,Virginia! Leave your palaces, your splendour! Return to these rocks, to theshade 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 cannottell me whether I shall marry Virginia or no, tell me, at least, if shestill loves me amidst those great lords who speak to the king, and go tosee her.'
"'Oh! my dear friend,' I answered, 'I am sure that she loves you, forseveral reasons; but, above all, because she is virtuous.' At those wordshe 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 bedefined. Virtue is an effort which we make for the good of others, and withthe intention of pleasing God.'
"'Oh! how virtuous then,' cried he, 'is Virginia! Virtue made her seek forriches, that she might practise benevolence. Virtue led her to forsake thisisland, and virtue will bring her back.' The idea of her near return firedhis imagination, and his inquietudes suddenly vanished. Virginia, he waspersuaded, had not written, because she would soon arrive. It took solittle time to come from Europe with a fair wind! Then he enumerated thevessels which had made a passage of four thousand five hundred leagues inless than three months; and perhaps the vessel in which Virginia hadembarked 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 makefor her reception, of the new habitation he would build for her, of thepleasures and surprises which each day should bring along with it when shewas 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 beingrich, we shall have a number of negroes, who will labour for you. You shallalways live with us, and have no other care than to amuse and rejoiceyourself:' and, his heart throbbing with delight, he flew to communicatethose exquisite sensations to his family.
"In a short time, however, the most cruel apprehensions succeeded thoseenchanting hopes. Violent passions ever throw the soul into oppositeextremes. Paul returned to my dwelling absorbed in melancholy, and said tome, 'I hear nothing from Virginia. Had she left Europe she would haveinformed me of her departure. Ah! the reports which I have heard concerningher 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 bookswhich paint women so well, virtue is but a subject of romance. Had Virginiabeen virtuous, she would not have forsaken her mother and me, and, while Ipass life in thinking of her, forgotten me. While I am wretched, she ishappy. Ah! that thought distracts me: labour becomes painful, and societyirksome. Would to heaven that war were declared in India! I would go thereand die.'
"'My son,' I answered, 'that courage which, prompts us to court death isbut the courage of a moment, and is often excited by the vain hopes ofposthumous fame. There is a species of courage more necessary, and morerare, which makes us support, without witness, and without applause, thevarious vexations of life; and that is, patience. Leaning not upon theopinions of others, but upon the will of God, patience is the courage ofvirtue.'
"'Ah!' cried he,' I am then without virtue! Every thing overwhelms anddistracts me.'
"'Equal, constant, and invariable virtue,' I replied, 'belongs not to man.'In the midst of so many passions, by which we are agitated, our reason isdisordered and obscured: but there is an ever-burning lamp, at which we canrekindle its flame; and that is, literature.
"'Literature, my dear son, is the gift of Heaven; a ray of that wisdomwhich governs the universe; and which man, inspired by celestialintelligence, has drawn down to earth. Like the sun, it enlightens, itrejoices, it warms with a divine flame, and seems, in some sort, like theelement 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 wecalm the passions, suppress vice, and excite virtue. Literature is thedaughter of heaven, who has descended upon earth to soften and to charm allhuman evils.
"'Have recourse to your books, then, my son. The sages who have writtenbefore our days, are travellers who have preceded us in the paths ofmisfortune; who stretch out a friendly hand towards us, and invite us tojoin their society, when every thing else abandons us. A good book is agood friend.'
"'Ah!' cried Paul, 'I stood in no need of b
ooks when Virginia was here, andshe had studied as little as me: but when she looked at me, and called meher friend, it was impossible for me to be unhappy.'
"'Undoubtedly,' said I, 'there is no friend so agreeable as a mistress bywhom we are beloved. There is in the gay graces of a woman a charm thatdispels the dark phantoms of reflection. Upon her face sits soft attractionand tender confidence. What joy is not heightened in which she shares? Whatbrow is not unbent by her smiles? What anger can resist her tears? Virginiawill return with more philosophy than you, and will be surprised not tofind the garden finished: