Part 7 of Paul and Virginia. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Ellis Christoff. Paul and Virginia by Bernard Indus-Himpierre. Part 7. I thus passed 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, that length pitched my tent in this thinly peopled island, allured by its mild climate and its solitudes. A cottage which I built in the woods at the foot of a tree, a little field which I cleared with my own hands, a river which glides before my door, suffice for my wants and for my pleasures. I blend with these enjoyments the perusal of some chosen books which teach me to become better. They make that world which I have abandoned still contribute something to my happiness. They lay before me pictures of those passions which render its inhabitants so miserable. And in the comparison I am thus led to make between their lot and my own, I feel a kind of negative enjoyment. Like a man saved from shipwreck and thrown upon a rock I contemplate from my solitude the storms which rage through the rest of the world. And my repose seems more profound from the 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 sometimes fall in with an unfortunate being I try to help him by my counsels as a passerby on the brink of a torrent extends his hand to save a wretch from drowning. But I have hardly ever found any but the innocent attentive to my voice. Nature calls the majority of men to hear in vain. Each of them forms an image of her for himself and invests her in his own passions. He pursues during the whole of his life this vain phantom which leads him astray. And he afterwards complains to heaven of the misfortunes which he has thus created for himself. Among the many children of misfortune whom I have endeavored to lead back to the enjoyments of nature I have not found one but was intoxicated with his own miseries. They have listened to me at first with attention in the hope that I could teach them how to acquire glory or fortune. But when they found that I only wished to instruct them how to dispense with these chimeras their attention has been converted into pity because I did not prize their miserable happiness. They blamed my solitary life. They alleged that they alone were useful to men and they endeavored to draw me into their vortex. But if I communicate with all, I lay myself open to none. It is often sufficient for me to serve as a lesson to myself. In my present tranquility I pass in review the agitating pursuits of my past life to which I formally attached so much value, patronage, fortune, reputation, pleasure and the opinions which are ever at strife over all the earth. I compare the men whom I have seen disputing furiously over these vanities and who are no more to the tiny waves of my rivulet which break in foam against its rocky bed and disappear never to return. As for me, I suffer myself to float calmly down the stream of time to the shoreless ocean of futurity. While in the contemplation of the present harmony of nature I elevate my soul towards its supreme author and hope for a more happy lot in another state of existence. Although you cannot describe from my hermitage situated in the midst of a forest that immense variety of objects which this elevated spot presents the grounds I disposed with peculiar beauty at least to one who, like me, prefers this occlusion of a home seen to great and extensive prospects. The river which glides before my door passes in a straight line across the woods looking like a long canal shaded by all kinds of trees. Among them are the gum tree, the ebony tree and that which is here called Boa de Pon with olive and cinnamonwood trees While in some parts the cabbage palm trees raise their naked stems more than a hundred feet high their summits crowned with a cluster of leaves 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, their long canopies of verdure. Most of these trees shed aromatic odours so powerful that the garments of a traveller who has passed through the forest often retain for hours the most delicious fragrance. In the season when they produce their lavish blossoms they appear as if half covered with snow. Towards the end of summer various kinds of foreign birds hasten impelled by some inexplicable instinct from unknown regions on the other side of immense oceans to feed upon the grain and other vegetable productions of the island. And the brilliancy of their plumage forms a striking contrast to the more somber tints of the foliage and browned by the sun. Among these are various kinds of paraquettes like the blue pigeon called here the pigeon of Holland. Monkeys, the domestic inhabitants of our forests sport upon the dark branches of the trees from which they are easily distinguished by their grey and greenish skin and their black visages. Some hang suspended by the tail and swing themselves in air others leap from branch to branch bearing their young in their arms. The murderer's gun has never affrighted these peaceful children of nature. You hear nothing but sounds of joy the wobblings and unknown notes of birds from the countries of the south repeated from a distance by the echoes of the forest the river, which pours in foaming eddies over a bed of rocks through the midst of the woods reflects here and there upon its limpid waters their venerable masses of verdure and of shade along with the sports of their happy inhabitants. About a thousand paces from thence it forms several cascades clear as crystal in their fall but broken at the bottom into frothy surges. Innumerable confused sounds issue from these watery tumults which born by the winds across the forest now sink in distance now all at once swell out booming on the ear like the bells of a cathedral. The air, kept ever in motion by the running water preserves upon the banks of the river amid all the summer heats a freshness and verdure rarely found in this island even on the summits of the mountains. At some distance from this place is a rock placed far enough from the cascade to prevent the ear from being deafened with the noise of its waters and sufficiently near for the enjoyment of seeing it of feeling its coolness and hearing its gentle murmurs. Thither, amidst the heats of summer Madame de la Tour, Margaret, Virginia, Paul and myself sometimes repaired to die in beneath the shadow of this rock. Virginia, who always in her most ordinary actions was mindful of the good of others never at of any fruit in the fields without planting the seed or kernel in the ground. From this, said she, trees will come which will yield their fruit to some traveller or at least to some bird. One day, having eaten of the purple fruit at the foot of that rock she planted the seeds on the spot. Soon after, several purple trees sprang up among which was one with female blossoms that is to say a fruit bearing tree. This tree, at the time of Virginia's departure, was scarcely as high as her knee. But as it is a plant of rapid growth in the course of two years it had gained the height of 20 feet and the upper part of its stem was encircled by several rows of ripe fruit. Paul, wandering accidentally to the spot, was struck with delight at seeing this lofty tree which had been planted by his beloved. But the emotion was transient and instantly gave place to a deep melancholy at this evidence of her long absence. The objects which are habitually before us do not bring to our minds an adequate idea of the rapidity of life. They decline insensibly with ourselves but it is those we behold again that most powerfully impress us with the feeling of the swiftness with which the tide of life flows on. Paul was no less overwhelmed and affected at the sight of this great purple tree loaded with fruit than is the traveler when, after a long absence from his own country he finds his contemporaries no more but their children whom he left at the breast themselves now become fathers of families. Paul sometimes thought of cutting down the tree which recalled too sensibly the distracting remembrance of Virginia's prolonged absence. At other times, contemplating it as a monument of her benevolence, he kissed its trunk and apostrophised it in terms of the most passionate regret. Indeed, I have myself gazed upon it with more emotion and more veneration than upon the triumphal arches of Rome. May nature, which every day destroys the monuments of kingly ambition, multiply in our forests those which testify the benevolence of a poor young girl. At the foot of this purple tree I was always sure to meet with Paul when he came into our neighbourhood. One day I found him there absorbed in melancholy and a conversation took place between us which I will relate to you if I do not weary too much by my long digressions. They are perhaps pardonable to my age and to my last friendships. I will relate it to you in the form of a dialogue that you may form some idea of the natural good sense of this young man. You will easily distinguish the speakers from the character of his questions and of my answers. Paul, I am very unhappy. Mademoiselle de Latour has now been gone two 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 go to France. I will serve the king. I will make my fortune. And then Mademoiselle de Latour's aunt will bestow her niece upon me when I shall have become a great lord. The old man. But my dear friend, have not you told me that you are not of noble birth? Paul. My mother has told me so but as for myself, I know not what noble birth means. I never perceived that I had less than others or that others had more than I. The old man. Obscure birth in France shuts every door of access to great employments. Nor can you even be received among any distinguished body of men if you labor under this disadvantage. Paul. You have often told me that it was one source of the greatness of France that her humblest subject might attain the highest honours and you have cited to me many instances of celebrated men who, born in a mean condition, have conferred honour upon their country. It was your wish then by concealing the truth to stimulate my ardour. The old man. Never my son would I lower it. I told you the truth with regard to the past but now everything has undergone a great change. Everything in France is now to be obtained by interest alone. Every place and employment is now become as it were the patrimony of a small number of families or is divided among public bodies. The king is a son and the nobles and great corporate bodies surround him like so many clouds. It is almost impossible for any of his rays to reach you. Formally, under less exclusive administrations such phenomena have been seen. The intolerance and merit show themselves everywhere as newly cleared lands are always loaded with abundance but great kings who can really form a just estimate of men and choose them with judgement are rare. The ordinary race of monarchs allow themselves to be guided by the nobles and people who surround them. Paul. Perhaps I shall find one of these nobles to protect me. The old man. To gain the protection of the great you must lend yourself to their ambition and administer to their pleasures. You would never succeed for in addition to your obscure birth you have too much integrity. Paul. But I will perform such courageous actions I will be so faithful to my word so exact in the performance of my duties so zealous and so constant in my friendships that I will render myself worthy to be adopted by someone of them. In the ancient histories you have made me read I have seen many examples of such adoptions. The old man. Oh my young friend among the Greeks and Romans even in their decline the nobles had some respect for virtue but out of all the immense number of men sprung from the mass of the people in France who have signalized themselves in every possible manner I do not recollect a single instance of one being adopted by any great family if it were not for our kings virtue in our country would be eternally condemned as plebeian. As I said before the monarch sometimes when he perceives it renders to it due honor but in the present day the distinctions which should be bestowed on merit are generally to be obtained by money alone. Paul If I cannot find a noble man to adopt me I will seek to please some public body I will espouse its interests and its opinions I will make myself beloved by it. The old man You will act then like other men? You will renounce your conscience to obtain a fortune? Paul Oh no I will never lend myself to anything but the truth The old man Instead of making yourself beloved you would become an object of dislike Besides public bodies have never taken much interest in the discovery of truth All opinions are nearly alike to ambitious men provided only that they themselves can gain their ends Paul How unfortunate I am Everything bars my progress I am condemned to pass my life in a noble toil far from Virginia As he said this he sighed deeply The old man Let God be your patron and mankind the public body you would serve be constantly attached to them both families, corporations, nations and kings have all of them their prejudices and their passions it is often necessary to serve them by the practice of vice God and mankind at large require only the exercise of the virtues But why do you wish to be distinguished from other men? It is hardly a natural sentiment for if all men possessed it everyone would be at constant strife with his neighbor Be satisfied with fulfilling your duty in the station in which Providence has placed you Be grateful for your lot which permits you to enjoy the blessing of a quiet conscience and which does not compel you like the great to let your happiness rest on the opinion of the little or like the little to cringe to the great in order to obtain the means of existence You are now placed in a country and a condition in which you are not reduced to deceive or flatter anyone or debase yourself as the greater part of those who seek their fortune in Europe are obliged to do In which the exercise of no virtue is forbidden you in which you may be with impunity, good, sincere well informed, patient, temperate, chaste indulgent to others' faults pious and no shaft of ridicule be aimed at you to destroy your wisdom as yet only in its bud Heaven has given you liberty, health, a good conscience and friends Kings themselves whose favor you desire are not so happy Paul I I only want to have Virginia with me Without her I have nothing With her I should possess all my desire She alone is to me birth, glory and fortune But since her relations will only give her to someone with a great name I will study By the aid of study and of books learning and celebrity are to be attained I will become a man of science I will render my knowledge useful to the service of my country without injuring anyone or owing dependence on anyone I will become celebrated and my glory shall be achieved only by myself The old man My son Talents are a gift yet more rare than either birth or riches and undoubtedly they are a greater good than either since they can never be taken away from us and that they obtain for us everywhere public esteem but they may be said to be worth all that they cost us They are seldom acquired but by every species of privation by the possession of exquisite sensibility which often produces inward unhappiness and which exposes us without to the malice and persecutions of our contemporaries The lawyer envy is not in France the glory of the soldier nor does the soldier envy that of the naval officer but they will all oppose you and bar your progress to distinction because your assumption of superior ability will wound the self-love of them all You say that you will do good to men but recollect that he who makes the earth produce a single ear of corn more renders them a greater service than he who writes a book Paul She then who planted this purple tree has made a more useful and more grateful present to the inhabitants of these forests than if she had given them a whole library So saying he threw his arms around the tree and kissed it with transport The old man The best of books that which preaches nothing but equality brotherly love charity and peace The gospel has served as a pretext during many centuries for Europeans to let loose all their fury How many tyrannies both public and private are still practiced in its name on the face of the earth After this who will dare to flatter himself that anything he can write will be of service to his fellow men Remember the fate of most of the philosophers who have preached to them wisdom Oma, who clothes it in such noble verse asked for arms all his life Socrates, whose conversation and example gave such admirable lessons to the Athenians was sentenced by them to be poisoned His sublime disciple Plato was delivered over to slavery by the order of the very prince who protected him And before them, Pythagoras whose humanity extended even to animals was burned alive by the Crotoniates What do I say? Many even of these illustrious names have descended to us disfigured by some traits of satire by which they became characterized human ingratitude taking pleasure in thus recognizing them And if in the crowd the glory of some names has come down to us without spot or blemish we shall find that they who have borne them have lived far from the society of their contemporaries Like those statues which are found in Tyre beneath the soil in Greece and Italy and which, by being hidden in the bosom of the earth have escaped uninjured from the fury of the barbarians You see then that to acquire the glory which a turbulent literary career can give you you must not only be virtuous but ready if necessary to sacrifice life itself But after all, do not fancy that the great in France trouble themselves about such glorious this Little do they care for literary men whose knowledge brings them neither honors nor power nor even admission at court Persecution, it is true it's rarely practiced in this age but it is habitually indifferent to everything except wealth and luxury but knowledge and virtue no longer lead to distinction since everything in the state is to be purchased with money Normally, men of letters were certain of reward by some place in the church, the magistracy or the administration Now they are considered good for nothing but to write books But this fruit of their minds little valued by the world at large is still worthy of its celestial origin For these books is reserved the privilege of shedding lust or an obscure virtue of consoling the unhappy of enlightening nations and of telling the truth even to kings This is unquestionably the most august commission with which heaven can honor a mortal upon this earth Where is the author who would not be consoled for the injustice or contempt of those who are the dispensers of the ordinary gifts of fortune when he reflects that his work may pass from age to age from nation to nation opposing a barrier to error and to tyranny and that, from amidst the obscurity in which he has lived there will shine forth a glory which will efface that of the common herd of monarchs the monuments of whose deeds perish in oblivion notwithstanding the flatterers who erect and magnify them Oh Ah, I am only covetous of glory to bestow it on Virginia and render her dear to the whole world But can you, who know so much, tell me whether we shall ever be married? I should like to be a very learned man if only for the sake of knowing what will come to pass The old man Who would live my son if the future were revealed to him when a single anticipated misfortune gives us so much useless uneasiness and the foreknowledge of one certain calamity is enough to embitter every day that precedes it It is better not to pry too curiously even into the things which surround us Heaven which has given us the power of reflection and our necessities gave us also those very necessities to set limits to its exercise Oh You tell me that with money people in Europe acquire dignities and honours I will go then to enrich myself in Bengal and afterwards proceed to Paris and marry Virginia I will embark at once The old man What? Would you leave her mother and yours? Oh Why, you yourself have advised my going to the Indies The old man Virginia was then here but you are now the only means of support both of her mother and of your own Paul Virginia will assist them by means of her rich relation The old man The rich care little for those from whom no honour is reflected upon themselves in the world Many of them have relations much more to be pitted than Madame du Latour who, for want of their assistance sacrifice their liberty for bread and pass their lives in mure within the walls of a convent Paul Oh, what a country is Europe Virginia must come back here What need has she of a rich relation? She was so happy in these hats She looked so beautiful and so well dressed with a red handkerchief or a few flowers around her head Return Virginia to your sumptuous mansions and your grandeur and come back to these rocks to the shade of these woods and of our cocoa trees Alas you are perhaps even now unhappy and he began to shed tears My father continued he hide nothing from me if you cannot tell me whether I shall marry Virginia tell me at least if she loves me still surrounded as she is by noblemen speak to the king and who go to see her The old man Oh my dear friend I am sure for many reasons that she loves you but above all because she is virtuous at these words he threw himself on my neck in a transport of joy End of Part 7 Part 8 of Paul and Virginia This LibriVox recording is in the pumbling domain Recording by Alice Kristoff Paul and Virginia by Bernard M. de Saint-Pierre Part 8 Paul But do you think that the women of Europe are false as they are represented in the comedies and books which you have lent me? The old man Women are false in those countries where men are tyrants Violence always engenders a disposition to deceive Paul In what way can men tyrannize over women? The old man In giving them in marriage without consulting their inclinations In uniting a young girl to an old man or a woman of sensibility to a frigid and indifferent husband Paul Why not join together those who are suited to each other the young to the young and love us to those they love? The old man Because few young men in France have property enough to support them when they are married and cannot acquire it till the greater part of their life is past While young they seduce the wives of others and when they are old they cannot secure their affections of their own At first they themselves are deceivers and afterwards they are deceived in their turn This is one of the reactions of that eternal justice by which the world is governed An excess on the side is sure to be balanced by one on the other Thus the greater part of Europeans pass their lives in this twofold irregularity which increases everywhere in the same proportion that wealth is accumulated in the hands of a few individuals Society is like a garden where shrubs cannot grow if they are overshadowed by lofty trees But there is this wide difference between them that the beauty of a garden may result from the admixture of a small number of forest trees while the prosperity of a state depends on the multitude and equality of its citizens and not on a small number of very rich men Paul But where is the necessity of being rich in order to marry the old man in order to pass through life in abundance without being obliged to work Paul But why not work? I am sure I work hard enough the old man In Europe, working with your hands is considered a degradation It is compared to the labor performed by a machine The occupation of cultivating the earth is the most despised of all Even an artisan is held in a more estimation than a peasant Paul What? Do you mean to say that the art that finishes food for mankind is despised in Europe? I hardly understand you the old man Oh, it is impossible for a person educated according to nature to form an idea of the depraved state of society It is easy to form a precise notion of order but not of disorder Beauty, virtue, happiness have all their defined proportions deformity, vice and misery have none Paul The rich then are always very happy They meet with no obstacles to the fulfillment of their wishes and they can lavish happiness on those whom they love The old man Far from it, my son They are, for the most part, satiated with pleasure for this very reason that it costs them no trouble Have you never yourself experienced how much the pleasure of repose is by fatigue that of eating by hunger or that of drinking by thirst The pleasure also of loving and being loved is only to be acquired by innumerable privations and sacrifices Wealth, by anticipating all their necessities deprives its possessors of all these pleasures To this own we, consequent upon satiety may also be added the pride which springs from their opulence and which is wounded by the most trifling privation and the greatest enjoyments have ceased to charm The perfume of a thousand roses gives pleasure but for a moment but the pain occasioned by a single thorn endures long after the infliction of the wound A single evil in the midst of their pleasures is to the rich like a thorn among flowers To the poor, on the contrary one pleasure amidst all their troubles is a flower among wilderness of thorns They have a most lively enjoyment of it The effect of everything is increased by contrast Nature has balanced all things which condition after all do you consider preferable to have scarcely anything to hope and everything to fear or to have everything to hope and nothing to fear The former condition is that of the rich the latter that of the poor But either of these extremes is with difficulty supported by men whose happiness consists in a middle station of life in union with virtue Paul What do you understand by virtue? The old man To you my son who support your family by your labour it need hardly be defined Virtue consists in endeavouring to do all the good we can to others with an ultimate intention of pleasing God alone Paul Oh how virtuous then is Virginia Virtue led her to seek for riches but she might practice benevolence Virtue induced her to quit this island and Virtue will bring her back to it The idea of her speedy return firing the imagination of this young man all his anxieties 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 this passage of 4,500 leagues in less than three months and perhaps the vessel in which Virginia had embarked might not be more than two Shipbuilders were now so ingenious and sailors were so expert He then talked to me of the arrangements he intended to make for her reception of the new house he would build for her and of the pleasures and surprises which he would contrive for her every day when she was his wife His wife The idea filled him with ecstasy At least my dear father said he you shall then do no more work than you please as Virginia will be rich we shall have plenty of negroes and they shall work for you we shall always live with us and have no other care than to amuse yourself and be happy and his heart throbbing with joy he flew to communicate these exquisite anticipations to his family In a short time however these enchanting hopes were succeeded by the most cruel apprehensions It is always the effect of violent passions to throw the soul into opposite extremes Paul returned the next day to my dwelling overwhelmed with melancholy and said to me I hear nothing from Virginia Had she left Europe she would have written me word 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 treated but as a subject of romance If Virginia had been virtuous she would never have forsaken her mother and me I do nothing but think of her and she has forgotten me I am wretched and she is diverting herself The thought distracts me I cannot bear myself 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 applause of men or by the hopes of posthumous renown There is another description of courage rarer and more necessary which enables us to support without witness and without applause the vexations of life This virtue is patience Relying for support not upon the opinions of others or the impulse of the passions but upon the will of God patience is the courage of virtue Ah! cried he I am then without virtue Everything overwhelms me and drives me to despair Equal, constant and invariable virtue I replied, belongs not to man In the midst of the many passions which agitate us our reason is desordered 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 by which the universe is governed and which man inspired by celestial intelligence has drawn down to earth Like the rays of the sun, it enlightens us it rejoices us it warms us with the heavenly flame and seems in some sort like the element of fire to bend all nature to our use By its means we are enabled to bring around us all things all places, all men, and all times It assists us to regulate our manners and our life By its aid too, our passions are calmed vice is suppressed and virtue encouraged by the memorable examples of great and good men which it has handed down to us and whose time-honoured images it ever brings before our eyes Literature is a daughter of heaven who has descended upon earth to soften and to charm away all the evils of the human race The greatest writers have ever appeared in the worst times in times in which society can hardly be held together the times of barbarism and every species of depravity My son Literature has consoled an infinite number of men more unhappy than yourself Xenophon banished from his country after having saved to her 10,000 of her sons Scipio Africanus, we read to death by the calamities of the Romans Lucullus, tormented by their cabals and Catinot, by the ingratitude of a court The Greeks, with their never-failing ingenuity assigned to each of the muses a portion of the great circle of human intelligence for her special superintendence We ought in the same manner to give up to them the regulation of our passions to bring them under proper restraint Literature in this imaginative guise would thus fulfil, in relation to the powers of the soul the same functions as the hours who yoked and conducted the chariot of the sun Have recourse to your books then, my son The wise who have written before our days are travellers who have preceded us in the paths of misfortune and who stretch out a friendly hand toward us and invite us to join in their society when we are abandoned by everything else 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 myself but when she looked at me and called me her friend I could not feel unhappy Undoubtedly, said I there is no friend so agreeable as a mistress by whom I love it There is, moreover, in woman aliveness and gaiety which powerfully tend to dissipate the melancholy feelings of a man Her presence drives away the dark phantoms of imagination produced by over-reflection Upon her countenance sits soft attraction and tender confidence What joy is not heightened when it is shared by her 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 quite surprised to find the garden so unfinished She who could think of its embellishments in spite of all the persecutions of her aunt and when far from her mother and from you The idea of Virginia's speedy return drooping spirits of her lover and he resumed his rural occupations happy amidst his toils in the reflection that they would soon find determination so dear to the wishes of his heart One morning, at break of day it was the 24th of December 1744 Paul, when he arose, perceived a white flag hoisted upon the mountain of discovery This flag he knew to be the signal of a vessel described at sea He instantly flew to the town to learn if this vessel brought any tidings of Virginia and waited there till the return of the pilot who was gone according to custom to board the ship The pilot did not return till the evening when he brought the governor information that the signal vessel was the Saint-Gérion of 700 tons burdened and commanded by a captain of the name of Orban That she was now four leagues out at sea and probably angered Port Louis the following afternoon if the wind became there At present there was a calm The pilot then handed to the governor a number of letters which the Saint-Gérion had brought from France among which was one addressed to Madame de la Tour in the handwriting of Virginia Paul seized upon the letter, kissed it with transport and placing it in his bosom flew to the plantation No sooner did he perceive from a distance the family who are awaiting his return upon the rock of a dew than he waved the letter aloft in the air without being able to utter a word No sooner was the seal broken than they all crowded around Madame de la Tour to hear the letter read Virginia informed her mother that she had experienced much ill-usage from her aunt who after having in vain urged her to a marriage against her inclination had disinherited her and had sent her back at a time when she would probably reach the Mauritius during the hurricane season In vain she added had she endeavored to soften her aunt by representing what she owed to her mother and to her early habits She was treated as a romantic girl whose head had been turned by novels She could now only think of the joy of again seeing and embracing her beloved family and would have gratified her ardent desire at once by landing in the pilot's boat if the captain had allowed her but that he had objected on account of the distance and of a heavy swell which notwithstanding the calm rained in the open sea As soon as the letter was finished the whole of the family transported with joy repeatedly exclaimed Virginia is arrived and mistresses and servants embraced each other Madame du Latour said to Paul, my son, go and inform our neighbour of Virginia's arrival Domingo immediately lighted a torch of Bois du Ronde and he and Paul bent their way towards my dwelling It was about ten o'clock at night and I was just going to extinguish my lamp and retire to rest when I perceived through the palisades around my cottage a light in the woods Soon after I heard the voice of Paul calling me I instantly arose and had hardly dressed myself when Paul almost beside himself and panting for breath sprang on my neck crying, come along, come along Virginia is arrived, let us go to the port The vessel will anchor at break of day Scarcely had he uttered the words when we set off As we were passing through the woods of the slopping mountain and were already on the road which leads from the shattered grove to the port I heard someone walking behind us It proved to be a negro and he was advancing with hasty steps When he had reached us, I asked him whence he came and whether he was going with such expedition He answered, I come from that part of the island called Golden Dust and I'm sent to the port to inform the governor that a ship from France has anchored under the Isle of Amber She is firing guns of distress for the sea is very rough Having said this, the man left us and pursued his journey without any further delay I then said to Paul, let us go towards the quarter of the Golden Dust and meet Virginia there It is not more than three leaks from hence We accordingly bent our course towards the northern part of the island The heat was suffocating The moon had risen and was surrounded by three large black circles A frightful darkness shrouded the sky But the frequent flashes of lightning discovered to us long rows of thick and gloomy clouds Hanging very low and heaped together over the center of the island Being driven in with great rapidity from the ocean Although not a breath of air was perceptible upon the land As we walked along, we thought we heard peals of thunder But on listening more attentively we perceived That it was the sound of cannon at a distance, repeated by the echoes These ominous sounds joined to the tempestuous aspect of the heavens made me shudder I had little doubt of there being signals of distress from a ship in danger In about half an hour the firing ceased And I found the silence still more appalling than the dismal sounds which had preceded it We hastened on without uttering a word or daring to communicate to each other our mutual apprehensions At midnight, by great exertion we arrived at the seashore in that part of the island called Golden Dust The billows were breaking against the bench with a horrible noise Covering the rocks and the strand with foam of a dazzling whiteness blended with sparks of fire By these phosphoric gleams we distinguished, notwithstanding the darkness, a number of fishing canoes drawn up high upon the beach At the entrance of a wood, a shorter distance from us, we saw a fire Round which a party of the inhabitants were assembled We repaired thither, in order to rest ourselves till the morning While we were seated near the fire, one of the standards bi-related that late in the afternoon he had seen a vessel in the open sea Driven towards the island by the currents, that the night had hidden it from his view And that two hours after sunset he had heard the firing of signal guns of distress But that the surf was so high that it was impossible to launch a boat to go off to her That a short time after, he thought he perceived the glimmering of the watchlights on board the vessel Which he feared by its having approached so near the coast had steered between the mainland and the little island of Amber Mistaking the latter for the point of endeavor, near which vessels pass in order to gain Port Louis And that, if this were the case which however he would not take upon himself to be certain of The ship he thought was in very great danger Another islander informed us that he had frequently crossed the channel which separated the Isle of Amber from the coast And had sounded it that the anchorage was very good and that the ship would there lie as safely as in the best harbor I would stake all I am worth upon it, said he, and if I were on board I should sleep as sound as on shore A third bystander declared that it was impossible for the ship to enter that channel Which was scarcely navigable for a boat He was certain he said that he had seen the vessel at anchor be on the Isle of Amber So that if the wind rose in the morning she would either put to sea or gain the harbor Other inhabitants gave different opinions upon this subject Which they continued to discuss in the usual desultory manner of the Indolent Creoles Poland I observed a profound silence We remained on this spot till break of day But the weather was too hazy to admit of our distinguishing any object at sea Everything being covered with fog All we could describe to seaward was a dark cloud Which they told us was the Isle of Amber at the distance of a quarter of a leak from the coast On this gloomy day we could only discern the point of land on which we were standing And the peaks of some inland mountains Which started out occasionally from the midst of the clouds that hang around them At about 7 in the morning we heard the sound of drums in the woods It announced the approach of the governor, Monsieur de la Bordeaux-née Who soon after arrived on horseback at the head of a detachment of soldiers armed with muskets And a crowd of islanders and negroes He drew up his soldiers upon the beach and ordered them to make a general discharge This was no sooner done than we perceived a glimmering light upon the water Which was instantly followed by the report of a cannon We judged that the ship was at no great distance And ran towards that part whence the light and sound proceeded We now discerned through the fog the hull and the arts of a large vessel We were so near to her that notwithstanding the tumult of the waves We could distinctly hear the whistle of the boson And the shouts of the sailors who cried out three times Vive le Roi is being the cry of the French in extreme danger As well as in exuberant joy As though they wished to call their princes to their aid Or to testify to him that they are prepared to lay down their lives in his service As soon as the Saint-Géran perceived that we were near enough to render her assistance She continued to fire guns regularly at intervals of three minutes Monsieur de la Baudonnaie caused great fires to be lighted at certain distances upon the strand And sent to all the inhabitants of the neighborhood in such provisions, planks, cables and empty barrels A number of people soon arrived, accompanied by their negroes loaded with provisions and cordage Which they had brought from the plantations of golden dust From the district of Leflac and from the river of the Rampart One of the most aged of these planters, approaching the governor, said to him We have heard all night hollow noises in the mountain, in the woods The leaves of the trees are shaken, although there is no wind The seabird seek refuge upon the land It is certain that all these signs announce a hurricane Well, my friends, answered the governor, we are prepared for it And no doubt the vessel is also Everything indeed precedes the near approach of the hurricane The center of the clouds in the zenith was of a dismal black While their skirts were tinged with a copper-colored hue The air resounded with the cries of the tropic birds, petrels, birds and innumerable other sea foals Which notwithstanding the obscurity of the atmosphere Were seen coming from every point of the horizon To seek for shelter in the island Towards nine in the morning we heard in the direction of the ocean The most terrific noise, like the sound of thunder Mingled with that of torrents rushing down the steeps of lofty mountains A general cry was heard of There is the hurricane And the next moment a frightful gust of wind dispelled the fog Which covered the Isle of Amber and its channel The Saint-Jérôme then presented herself to our view Her deck crowded with people Her yarns and top masts lowered down And her flag half-must high Moored by four cables at her bow And one at her stern She had anchored between the Isle of Amber and the mainland Inside the chain of reefs which encircles the island And which she had passed through in a place Where no vessel had ever passed before She presented her head to the waves That rolled in from the open sea And as each billow rushed into the narrow strait where she lay Her bow lifted to such a degree as to show her keel And at the same moment her stern, plunging into the water Disappeared altogether from our side As if it was swallowed up by the surges In this position, driven by the winds and waves towards the shore It was equally impossible for her to return by the passage through which she had made her way Or by cutting her cables to strand herself upon the beach From which she was separated by sandbanks and reefs of rocks Every billow which broke upon the coast advanced roaring to the bottom of the bay Growing up heaps of shingle to the distance of 50 feet upon the land Then rushing back laid bare its sandy bed From which it rolled immense stones with a hoarse and dismal noise The sea, swelled by the violence of the wind, rose higher every moment And the whole channel between this island and the Isle of Amber Was soon one vast sheet of white foam Full of yawning pits of black and deep billows Keeps of this foam, more than 6 feet high were piled up at the bottom of the bay And the winds which swept its surface carried masses of it over the steep sea bank Scattering it upon the land to the distance of half a league These innumerable white flakes, driven horizontally even to the very foot of the mountains Looked like snow issuing from the bosom of the ocean The appearance of the horizon portended a lasting tempest The sky and the water seemed blended together Thick masses of clouds of a frightful form swept across the zenith With the swiftness of birds while others appeared motionless as rocks Not a single spot of blue sky could be discerned in the whole firmament And a pale yellow gleam only lightened up all the objects of the earth The sea and the skies End of Part 8 Part 9 of Paul and Virginia This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Recording by Alice Kristoff Paul and Virginia By Bernadine de Saint-Pierre Part 9 From the violent rolling of the ship What we all dreaded happened at last The cables which held her bow were torn away She then swung to a single hoser And was instantly dashed upon the rocks At the distance of half a cable sling from the shore A general cry of horror issued from the spectators Paul rushed forward to throw himself into the sea When seizing him by the arm My son, I exclaimed Would you perish? Let me go to save her, he cried Or let me die Seeing that despair had deprived him of reason Domingo and I, in order to preserve him Passed a long cord around his waist And held it fast by the end Paul then precipitated himself towards the Saint-Geron Now swimming and now walking upon the rocks Sometimes he had hopes of reaching the vessel Which the sea, by the reflux of its waves Had left almost dry So that you could have walked around it on foot But suddenly the billows, returning with fresh fury Shrouded it beneath mountains of water Which then lifted it upright upon its keel The breakers at the same moment threw the unfortunate Paul far upon the beach His legs bathed in blood, his bosom wounded And himself half dead The moment he had recovered the use of his senses He arose and returned with new ardor towards the vessel The parts of which now yawned asunder From the violent strokes of the billows The crew then, despairing of their safety Threw themselves in crowds into the sea Upon yards, planks, handcuffs, tables and barrels At this moment we beheld an object Which rang our hearts with grief and pity A young lady appeared in the stern gallery of the Saint-Geron Stretching out her arms towards him Who was making so many efforts to join her It was Virginia She had discovered her lover by his intrepidity The sight of this sameable girl exposed to such horrible danger Filled us with unutterable despair As for Virginia, with a firm and dignified mean She waved her hand as if bidding us an eternal farewell All the sailors had flung themselves into the sea Except one who still remained upon the deck And who was naked and strong as Hercules Then approached Virginia with respect And kneeling at her feet, attempted to force her To throw off her clothes But she repulsed him with modesty And turned away her head Then we heard redoubled cries from the spectators Save her, save her, do not leave her But at that moment a mountain below Of enormous magnitude engulfed itself Between the Isle of Amber and the coast And menace the shattered vessel toward The retreated rolled bellowing With its black sides and foaming head At this terrible sight the tailor flung himself Into the sea And Virginia, seeing death inevitable Crossed her hands upon her breast And raising upwards her serene and beautious eyes Seemed an angel prepared to take her flight to heaven O day of horror Alas The mountain was swallowed up by the relentless billows The surge through some of the spectators Whom an impulse of humanity had prompted To advance towards Virginia, far upon the beach And also the sailor who had endeavored to save her life This man who had escaped from almost certain death Kneeling on the sand exclaimed Oh my God, thou hast saved my life But I would have given it willingly For that excellent young lady Who had persevered in not undressing herself As I had done Domingo and I drew the unfortunate ball to the ashore He was senseless, and blood was flowing From his mouth and ears The governor ordered him to be put into the hands Of a surgeon, while we on our part Wandered along the beach In hopes that the sea would throw up The corpse of Virginia But the wind having suddenly changed As it frequently happens during hurricanes Our search was in vain And we had the grief of thinking That we should not be able to bestow On this sweet and unfortunate girl The last sad duties We retired from the spot overwhelmed with dismay And our minds wholly occupied by one cruel loss Although numbers had perished in the wreck Some of the spectators seemed tempted From the fatal destiny of this virtuous girl To doubt the existence of Providence For there are in life such terrible Such unmerited evils That even the hope of the wise is sometimes shaken In the meantime, Paul, who began to recover his senses Was taken to house in the neighborhood Till he was in a fit state to be removed To his own home A vither I bent my way with Domingo To discharge the melancholy duty Of preparing Virginia's mother and her friend For the disastrous event which had happened When we had reached the entrance of the valley Of the river of fun palms Some negroes informed us That the sea had thrown out many pieces of the wreck In the opposite bay We descended towards it And one of the first objects that struck my sight Upon the beach was the corpse of Virginia The body was half covered with sand And preserved the attitude in which we had seen her perish Her features were not sensibly changed Her eyes were closed And her countenance was still serene But the pale purple hues of death Were blended on her cheek with the blush Of virgin modesty One of her hands was placed upon her clothes And the other, which she held on her heart Was fast closed and so stiffened That it was with difficulty That I took from its grasp a small box How great was my emotion When I saw that it contained the picture of Paul Which she had promised him never to part with While she lived As for Domingo He beat his breast and pierced the air With his shrieks With heavy hearts we then carried the body of Virginia To a fisherman's hut And gave it in charge of some poor Malabar women Who carefully washed away the sand While they were employed in this melancholy office We ascended the hill with trembling steps To the plantation We found Madame du Latour and Margaret at prayer Hourly expecting to have tidings from the ship As soon as Madame du Latour saw me coming She eagerly cried Where is my daughter?  I do not see my son And fainted We ran to her assistance In a short time she recovered And being assured that Paul was safe And under the care of the governor She thought of nothing but of suckering her friend Who recovered from one fainting fit Only to fall into another Madame du Latour passed the whole night In these cruel sufferings And I became convinced That there was no sorrow like that of a mother When she recovered her senses She cast a fixed unconscious look towards heaven In vain her friend and myself Pressed her hands in hours In vain we called upon her By the most tender names She appeared wholly insensible To these testimonials of our affection And no sound issued from her oppressed bosom But deep and hollow moans During the morning I was carried home in a palanquin He had now recovered the use of his reason But was unable to utter a word His interview with his mother and Madame du Latour Which I had dreaded Produced a better effect than all my cares Array of consolation gleamed On the countenances of the two unfortunate mothers They pressed close to him Clasped him in their arms and kissed him Their tears, which excessive anguish Now dried up at the source Began to flow Paul mixed his tears with theirs And nature having thus found relief A long stupor succeeded the convulsive pangs They had suffered and afforded them a lethargic repose Which was in truth like that of death Monsieur de la Bordeaux ne sent to apprise me secretly That the corpse of Virginia had been born To the town by his order From whence it was to be transferred To the church of the Shaddock Grove I immediately went down to Port Louis Where I found a multitude assembled From all parts of the island In order to be present at the funeral solemnity As if the Isle had lost that Which was nearest and dearest to it The vessels in the harbour had their yards crossed Their flags half-mast And fired guns at long intervals A body of grenadiers let the funeral procession With their muskets reversed Their muffled drums sending forth slow And dismal sounds Dejection was depicted in the countenance Of these warriors Who had so often braved death in battle Without changing colour Eight young ladies of considerable families Of the island, dressed in white And bearing palm branches in their hands Carried the corpse of their amiable companion Which was covered with flowers They were followed by a chorus of children Chanting hymns And by the governor, his field officers All the principal inhabitants of the island And an immense crowd of people This imposing funeral solemnity Had been ordered by the administration of the country Which was desirous of doing honour to the virtues of Virginia But when the mournful procession arrived At the foot of this mountain With inside of those cottages of which She had been so long an inmate and an ornament If using happiness all around them And which her loss had now filled with despair The funeral pomp was interrupted The hymns and anthem ceased And the whole plain resounded with sighs and lamentations Numbers of young girls ran from the neighbouring plantations To touch the coffin of Virginia with their handkerchiefs And with chaplets and crowns of flowers Invoking her as a saint Mothers asked of heaven a child like Virginia Lovers, a heart as faithful The poor, a tenderer friend And the slaves as kind amistress When the procession had reached the place of interment Some negrises of Madagascar and Kaafr of Mozambique Placed a number of baskets of fruit around the corpse And hung pieces of stuff upon the adjoining trees According to the custom of their several countries Some Indian women from Bengal also And from the coast of Malabar Brought cages full of small birds Which they set at liberty upon her coffin Thus deeply did the loss of this amiable being Affect the natives of different countries And thus was the ritual of various religions Performed over the tomb of unfortunate virtue It became necessary to place guards around her grave And to employ gentle force in removing some of the daughters Of the neighbouring villagers Who endeavoured to throw themselves into it Saying that they had no longer any consolation To hope for in this world And that nothing remained for them but to die With their benefactress On the western side of the church of the Shadak Grove Is a small corpse of bamboos Where in returning from mass with her mother and Margaret Virginia loved to rest herself Seated by the side of him Whom she then called her brother This was the spot selected for her interment At his return from the funeral salemnity Mousyoudhula Baudonais came up here Followed by part of his numerous retinue He offered Madame du Latour and her friend All the assistance it was in his power to bestow After briefly expressing his indignation At the conduct of her unnatural aunt He advanced to Paul And said everything which he thought Was likely to soothe and console him Kevin is my witness, said he That I wish to ensure your happiness And that of your family My dear friend, you must go to France I will obtain a commission for you And during your absence I will take the same care of your mother As if she were my own He then offered him his hand But Paul drew away And turned his head aside Unable to bear his sight I remained for some time at the plantation Of my unfortunate friends That I might render to them and Paul Those offices of friendship that were in my power And which might alleviate Though they could not heal the wounds of calamity At the end of three weeks Paul was able to walk But his mind seemed to droop In proportion as his body gathered strength He was insensible to everything His look was vacant And when asked a question he made no reply Madame du Latour who was dying Said to him often, my son While I look at you I think I see my dear Virginia At the name of Virginia he shattered And hastened away from her Notwithstanding the entreaties of his mother Who begged him to come back to her friend He used to go alone into the garden And seat himself at the foot of Virginia's coco tree With his eyes fixed upon the fountain A governor's surgeon Who had shown the most humane attention to Paul And the whole family Told us that in order to cure the deep melancholy Which had taken possession of his mind We must allow him to do whatever he pleased Without contradiction This, he said, afforded the only chance Of overcoming the silence in which he persevered I resolved to follow this advice The first use which Paul made Of his returning strength was to upset himself From the plantation Being determined not to lose sight of him I set out immediately and desired Domingo To take some provisions and accompanies The young man's strength and spirit seemed renewed As he descended the mountain He first took the road to the Shaddock Grove And when he was near the church In the alley of Bamboos He walked directly to the spot Where he saw some earth fresh turned up Kneeling down there And raising his eyes to heaven He offered up a long prayer This appeared to me a favourable symptom Of the return of his reason Since this mark of confidence in the supreme being Showed that his mind was beginning To resume its natural functions Domingo and I, following his example Fell upon our knees And mingled our prayers with his When he arose He bent his way Paying little attention to us Towards the northern part of the island As I knew that he was not only ignorant Of the spot where the body of Virginia Had been deposited But even of the fact that it had been Recovered from the waves I asked him why he had offered up His prayer at the foot of those Bamboos He answered We have been there so often He continued his course Until we reached the borders of the forest When night came on I set him the example of taking some Nourishment and prevailed on him To do the same And we slept upon the grass At the foot of a tree The next day I thought he seemed Disposed to retrace his steps Or after having gazed a considerable Time from the plain upon the church Of the Shaddock Grove With its long avenues of Bamboos He made a movement as if to return home But suddenly plunging into the forest He directed his course towards the north I guessed what was his design And I endeavored but in vain To dissuade him from it About noon we arrived at the quarter Of golden dust He rushed down to the seashore Opposite to the spot where the San Geron had been wrecked At the site of the Isle of Amber And its channel When smooth as a mirror he exclaimed Virginia, oh my dear Virginia And fell senseless Domingo and I carried him into The woods where we had some difficulty In recovering him As soon as he regained his senses He wished to return to the seashore But we conjured him Not to renew his own anguish And ours by such cruel Remembrances And he took another direction During the whole week he sought Every spot where he had once wandered With the companion of his childhood He traced the path by which he Had gone to intercede for the slave Of the Black River He gazed again upon the banks Of the river of the three breasts Where she had rested herself When unable to walk further And upon that part of the wood Where they had lost their way All the haunts which recall To his memory the anxieties The sports, the repasts The benevolence of her he loved The river of the sloping mountain My house, the neighbouring Skade, the popo tree she had planted The grassy fields in which She loved to run The openings of the forest Where she used to sing All in succession called forth His tears And those very echoes which Had so often resounded with their Mutual shouts of joy Now repeated only these Accents of despair Virginia Oh my dear Virginia Your life His eyes became sunk and hollow His skin assumed a yellow tint And his health rapidly declined Convinced that our present Sufferings are rendered more acute By the bitter recollection of bygone Pleasures And that the passions gather strength In solitude I resolved to remove my unfortunate friend From those scenes which recall The remembrance of his loss And to lead him to a more busy part With this view, I conducted him To the inhabited part of the elevated Quarter of Williams Which he had never visited And where the busy pursuits of agriculture And commerce ever occasioned Much bustle and variety Numbers of carpenters were employed In hewing down and squaring trees While others were sawing them Into planks Carriages were continually passing And repassing on the roads Numerous herds of oxen and troops Horses were feeding on those widespread Meadows And a whole country was dotted with the dwellings Of man On some spots the elevation of the soil Permitted the culture of many of the plants of Europe The yellow ears of ripe corn Waved upon the plains Strawberry plants grew in the openings Of the woods And the roads were aborted by hedges Of rose trees The freshness of the air, too Giving tension to the nerves Of the health of Europeans From those heights Situated near the middle of the island And surrounded by extensive forests Near the sea Nor Port Louis Nor the Church of the Shaddock Grove Nor any other object associated with the remembrance Of Virginia could be discerned Even the mountains Which present various shapes On the side of Port Louis Appear from hence like a long promontory In a straight and perpendicular line From which arise lofty pyramids of rock Whose summits are enveloped in the clouds Conducting pole to these scenes I kept him continually in action Walking with him in rain and sunshine By day and by night I sometimes wandered with him Into the depths of the forests Or let him over and tilt grounds Hoping that change of scene And fatigue might divert his mind From its gloomy meditations But the soul of a lover finds Everywhere the traces of the beloved object Night and day The calm of solitude And the tumult of crowds Are to him the same Time itself which casts the shade Of oblivion over so many other remembrances In vain would tear that tender And sacred recollection from the heart The needle When touched by the lodestone However it may have been moved From its position Is no sooner left to repose Than it returns to the pole Of its attraction So when I inquired of pole As we wandered amidst the plains Of Williams Where shall we now go? He pointed to the north and said Yonder our mountains Let us return home I now saw that all the means I took to divert him from his melancholy Were fruitless And that no resource was left But an attempt to combat his passion By the arguments which reason suggested I answered him Yes, there are the mountains Where once dwelt your beloved Virginia And here is the picture you gave her And which she held when dying To her heart That heart which even in its last moments Only beat for you I then presented to Paul the little portrait Which he had given to Virginia On the borders of the cocoa fountain At this site A gloomy joy overspread his countenance He eagerly seized the picture With his feeble hands And held it to his lips His oppressed bosom seemed ready To burst with emotion And his eyes were filled with tears Which had no power to flow My son said I Listen to one who is your friend Who was the friend of Virginia And who, in the bloom of your hopes Has often endeavored to fortify Your mind against the unforeseen Accidents of life What do you deplore with so much bitterness? Is it your own misfortunes Or those of Virginia Which affect you so deeply? Your own misfortunes are indeed severe You have lost the most amiable Of girls who would have grown up To womanhood, a pattern to her sex One who sacrificed her own Interest to yours Who preferred you to all that fortune Could bestow and considered You as the only recompense worthy Of her virtues But might not this very object From whom you expected the purest happiness Have proved to your source Of the most cruel distress She had returned poor And disinherited All you could henceforth have partaken With her was your labor Rendered more delicate by her Education and more courageous By her misfortunes You might have beheld her every day Sinking beneath her efforts To share and lighten your fatigues Had she brought you children They would only have served To increase her anxieties and your own From the difficulty of sustaining At once your aged parents And your infant family Very likely you will tell me That the governor would have helped you But how do you know that in a colony Where governors are so frequently changed You would have had others like Monsieur de la Baudonnais That one might not have been sent Destitute of good feeling and of morality That your young wife In order to procure some miserable pittance Might not have been obliged To seek his favor Had she been weak You would have been to be pitied And if she had remained virtuous You would have continued poor Forced even to consider yourself Fortunative on account of the beauty And virtue of your wife You had not to endure persecution From those who had promised you protection End of part 9 Part 10 of Paul and Virginia This LibriVox recording Is in the public domain Paul and Virginia By Bernard and Yosem Pierre Part 10 It would have remained to you You may say to have enjoyed A pleasure independent of fortune That of protecting a loved being Who in proportion to her own helplessness Had more attached herself to you You may fancy that your pains And sufferings would have served To endear you to each other And that your passion would have gathered strength From your mutual misfortunes Undoubtedly virtuous love Does find consolation Even in such melancholy retrospects But Virginia is no more Yet those persons Still live whom Next to yourself She held most dear A mother and your own Your inconsolable affliction Is bringing them both to the grave Place your happiness As she did hers In affording them succour My son Benevolence is the happiness of the virtuous There is no greater Or more certain enjoyment on the earth Schemes of pleasure Repose Luxuries Wealth and glory Are not suited to man Weak wandering and transitory as he is See how rapidly one step towards The acquisition of fortune Has precipitated us all To the lowest abyss of misery You were opposed to it It is true But who would not have thought That Virginia's voyage would terminate In her happiness and your own Affection, the advice of a wise governor The approbation of the whole colony And the well-advised authority Of her confessor Decided the lot of Virginia Thus do we run to our ruin Deceived even by the prudence Of those who watch over us It would be better, no doubt Not to believe them Nor even to listen to the voice Or lean on the hopes of a deceitful world But all men Those you see occupied in these planes Those who go abroad To seek their fortunes And those in Europe who enjoy repose From the labours of others Are liable to reverses Not one is secure from losing At some period All that he most values Greatness, wealth Wife, children And friends Most of these would have their sorrow increased By the remembrance of their own imprudence But you have nothing Which you can reproach yourself You have been faithful in your love In the bloom of youth By not departing from the dictates of nature You evince the wisdom of a sage Your views were just Because they were pure, simple And disinterested You had, besides On Virginia sacred claims Which nothing could countervail You have lost her But it is neither your own imprudence Nor your avarice Nor your false wisdom Which has occasioned this misfortune But the will of God Who had employed the passions of others To snatch from you the object of your love God From whom you derive everything Who knows what is most fitting for you And whose wisdom has not left you Any cause for the repentance And despair Which succeed the calamities That are brought upon us by ourselves Maybe in your misfortunes Do you say to yourself I have not deserved them Is it then The calamity of Virginia The death and her present condition That you deplore She has undergone the fate allotted to all To high birth To beauty And even to empires themselves The life of man With all his projects May be compared to a tower Where the summit is death When your Virginia was born She was condemned to die Happily for herself She is released from life Before losing her mother Or yours or you Saved thus from undergoing pangs Worse than those of death itself Learn then my son That death is a benefit to all men It is the night Of that restless day By the name of life The diseases The griefs The vexations and the fears Which perpetually embitter our life As long as we possess it Malest us no more in the sleep of death If you inquire into the history Of those men who appear to have been the happiest You will find that they have bought Their apparent felicity very dear Public consideration Perhaps by domestic evils Fortune By the loss of health The rare happiness of being loved By continual sacrifices And often At the expiration of a life devoted to the good of others They see themselves surrounded only by false friends And ungrateful relations But Virginia was happy to have Very last moment When with us She was happy in partaking of the gifts of nature When far from us She found enjoyment in the practice of virtue And even at the terrible moment In which we saw her perish She still had cause for self-gratulation For whether she cast her eyes On the assembled colony Made miserable by her expected loss Or on you, my son, Who, with so much intrepidity Were endeavouring to save her She must have seen how dear she was to all Her mind was fortified Against the future By the remembrance of her innocent life And at that moment She received the reward Which heaven reserves for virtue A courage superior to danger She met death With a syrian countenance My son God gives all the trials of life to virtue In order to show that Virtue alone can support them And even finding them happiness and glory When he designs for it an illustrious Reputation He exhibits it on a wide theatre And contending with death Then does the courage of virtue shine forth As an example And the misfortunes to which it has been Exposed receive forever From posterity the tribute of their tears This is the immortal monument Reserved for virtue in a world Where everything else passes away And where the names, Even of the greater number of kings Themselves, are soon buried In eternal oblivion Meanwhile, virginia still exists In this world Meanwhile, virginia still exists My son You see that everything changes On this earth But that nothing is ever lost No art of man can annihilate The smallest particle of matter Can then that which has possessed Reason, sensibility, affection, Virtue and religion Be supposed capable of destruction When the very elements With which it is closed Are imperishable However happy virginia May have been with us She is now much more so There is a god my son It is unnecessary for me to prove it to you For the voice of all nature Loudly proclaims it The wickedness of mankind leads them To deny the existence of a being Whose justice they fear But your mind is fully convinced Of his existence While his works are ever before your eyes Do you then believe Who would leave virginia without recompense? Do you think That the same power which enclosed her noble soul In a form so beautiful So like an emanation from itself Could not have saved her from the waves? That he who has ordained The happiness of man here By laws unknown to you Cannot prepare a still Higher degree of felicity for virginia By other laws Of which she are equally ignorant Before we were born into this world Could we do you imagine Even if we were capable of thinking at all Have formed any idea Of our existence here And now that we are in the middle of this Gloomy and transitory life Can we foresee what is beyond the tomb? Or in what manner We shall be emancipated from it?  And can he only dispose of human life In the territory of death? There is not in the entire ocean A single drop of water Which is not people with living beings Appertaining to man And does there exist nothing For him in the heavens above his head? What? Is there no supreme intelligence No divine goodness Except on this little spot where we are placed? In those innumerable glowing fires In those infinite Fields of light which surrounds them And which neither storms nor darkness can extinguish Is there nothing but empty space And an eternal void? If we, weak and ignorant as we are Might dare to assign limits to that power From which we have received everything We might possibly imagine That we were placed on the very confines Of his empire Where life is perpetually struggling With death and innocence Forever in danger from the power of tyranny Somewhere then Without doubt There is another world Where virtue will receive its reward Virginia is now happy I, if from the abode of angels She could hold communication with you She would tell you As she did when she bad you Her last adduce Opal Life is but a scene of trial I have been obedient to the laws of nature Love and virtue I crossed the seas to obey the will of my relations I sacrificed wealth in order to keep my faith And I preferred the loss of life To disobeying the dictates of modesty Heaven found that I had fulfilled my duties And has snatched me forever from all the miseries I might have endured myself And all I might have felt For the miseries of others I am placed far above the reach Of all human evils And you pity me I am become pure and unchangeable As a particle of light And you would recall me to the darkness of human life Opal Oh my beloved friend Recollect those days of happiness When in the morning we felt the delightful sensations Excited by the unfolding beauties of nature When we seemed to rise With the sun to the peaks of those rocks And then to spread with his rays Over the bosom of the forests We experienced the delight The cause of which we could not comprehend In the innocence of our desires We wished to be all-sight To enjoy the rich colours of the early dawn All-smell To taste a thousand perfumes at once All-hearing To listen to the singing of our birds And all-heart To be capable of gratitude For those mingled blessings Now, at the source of the beauty Whence flows all the joy At the source of the beauty Whence flows all that is delightful upon earth My soul intuitively sees Hears, touches What before she could only be made sensible Of through the medium of our weak organs Ah, what language can describe Those shores of eternal bliss Which I inhabit forever All that infinite power And heavenly goodness Could create to console the unhappy All that the friendship Of numberless beings Exulting in the same felicity And in part, we enjoy In unmixed perfection Support then the trial Which is now allotted to you That you may heighten the happiness Of your Virginia by love Which will know no termination By a union which will be eternal There I will calm your regrets I will wipe away your tears O my beloved friend My youthful husband Raise your thoughts towards The infinite to enable you to Support the evils of a moment My own emotion choked my utterance Paul, looking at me Steadfastly cried She is no more She is no more And a long fainting fit Succeeded these words of woe When restored to himself He said Since death is good And since Virginia is happy You and me united to Virginia Thus the motives of consolation I had offered Only served to nourish his despair I was in the situation of a man Who attempts to save a friend Singing in the midst of a flood And who obstinately refuses to swim Sorrow had completely Overwhelmed his soul Alas The trials of early years Prepare man for the afflictions Of afterlife Had never experienced any I took him back to his own dwelling Where I found his mother and Madame de Latour in a state of increased Langer and exhaustion But Margaret seemed to droop the most Lively characters Upon whom petty troubles have But little effect Sink the soonest and the great calamities O my good friend Said Margaret I thought last night I saw Virginia Dressed in white Groves and delicious gardens She said to me I enjoy the most perfect happiness And then approaching Paul With a smiling air she bore him away With her While I was struggling to retain my son I felt that I myself too was Quitting the earth And that I followed with an Expressible delight I then wished to bid my friend farewell When I saw that she was hastening after me Accompanied by Mary and Domingo The circumstance remains yet to be told Madame de Latour has this very night Had a dream exactly like mine In every possible respect My dear friend I replied Nothing I firmly believe happens In this world without the permission of God Future events too are sometimes Revealed in dreams Madame de Latour then Related to me her dream Which was exactly the same as Margaret's In every particular And as I had never observed in either Of these ladies any propensity to Superstition I was struck With the singular coincidence of their dreams And I felt convinced That they would soon be realized The belief that future events are Sometimes revealed to us during sleep Is one that is wisely Diffused among the nations of the earth The greatest men of antiquity Have had faith in it Among whom may be mentioned Alexander the Great Julius Caesar And Scipios The two Catoes And Brutus Both the Old and the New Testament Furnish us with numerous instances Of dreams that come to pass As for myself I need only on this subject Appeal to my experience As I have more than once had good reason To believe that superior intelligences Who interest themselves in our welfare Communicate with us In these visions of the night Things which surpass the light Of human reason Cannot be proved by arguments Derived from that reason But still, if the mind of man Is an image of that of God Since man can make known His will to the ends of the earth By secret missives May not the supreme intelligence Which governs the universe Employ similar means to attain a like end One friend consoles another By a letter which, After passing through many kingdoms And being in the hands of various individuals At enmity with each other Brings at last joy and hope To the breast of a single human being May not in like manner The sovereign protector of incense Come in some secret way To the help of a virtuous soul Which puts its trust in him alone As he occasioned to employ Visible means to effect his purpose In this, whose ways are hidden In all his ordinary works Why should we doubt The evidence of dreams For what is our life Occupied as it is with vain And fleeting imaginations Other than a prolonged vision of the night Whatever may be thought Of this in general On the present occasion The dreams of my friends Were soon realized Paul expired two months After the death of his Virginia On his lips in his expiring moments About a week after The death of her son Margaret saw her last hour approach With that serenity Which virtue only can feel She bet Madame du Latour A most tender farewell In the certain hope she said Of a delightful and eternal reunion Death Is the greatest of blessings to us Added she And we ought to desire it If life be a punishment We should wish for its termination If it be a trial We should be thankful That it is short The governor took care Of Domingo and Mary Who were no longer able to labor And who survived their mistresses But a short time As for Paul Fidel He pined to death Soon after he had lost his master I afforded an asylum To the dwellings to Madame du Latour Who bore up under her calamities With incredible elevation of mind She had endeavored to console Paul And Margaret till their last moments As if she herself had no misfortunes Of her own to bear And they were not more She used to talk to me every day Of them as of beloved friends Who were still living near her She survived them however By one month Far from reproaching her aunt To the convictions she had caused Her benign spirit prayed to God To pardon her And to appease that remorse Which we heard began to torment her As soon as she had sent Virginia away With so much in humanity Conscience That certain punishment of the guilty Visited with all its terrors The mind of this unnatural relation So great was her torment That life and death became Equally insupportable to her Sometimes she reproached herself With the untimely fate of her lovely niece And with the death of her mother Which had immediately followed it At other times she congratulated herself For having repulsed far from her Two wretched creatures Who, she said, had both Dishonored their family By their groveling inclinations Sometimes At the sight of the many miserable Objects with which Paris abounds She would fly into a rage And exclaim Why are not these idle people Sent off to the colonies? As for the notions of humanity Virtue and religion Adopted by all nations She said there were only the inventions Of their rulers to serve political purposes Then flying all at once To the other extreme She abandoned herself to Superstitious terrors Which filled her with mortal fears She would then give abundant arms To the wealthy ecclesiastics who governed her Beseeching them to appease The wrath of God by the sacrifice Of her fortune As if the offering to him of the wealth She had withheld from the miserable Could please her heavenly father In her imagination She often beheld fields of fire With burning mountains Where in hideous specters Wondered about loudly calling On her by name She threw herself at her confessor's feet Imagining every description of agony And torture For heaven Just heaven always sends to the cruel The most frightful views of religion And the future state Atheist thus And fanatic in turn Holding both life and death in equal horror She lived on for several years But what completed the torments Of her miserable existence Was that very object To which she had sacrificed every natural affection She was deeply annoyed At perceiving that her fortune Must go at her death To relations whom she hated And she determined to alienate As much of it as she could They, however, taking advantage Of her frequent attacks of low spirits Caused her to be secluded As a lunatic And her affairs to be put into the hands Of trustees Her wealth thus completed her ruin And as the possession Of it had hardened her own heart So did its anticipation corrupt The hearts of those who coveted it from her At length she died And, to crown her misery She retained enough reason at last To be sensible That she was splendid And despised By the very persons whose opinions Had been her rule of conducting During her whole life On the same spot And at the foot of the same shrubs Was deposited the body of Paul And round about them Lie the remains of their tender mothers And their faithful servants No marble marks the spot Of their humble graves No inscription records their virtues But their memory is engraven Upon the hearts of those Whom they have befriended In indelible characters Their spirits have no need Of the pomp which they shan't During their life But if they still take an interest In what passes upon earth They no doubt love to wander Beneath the roofs of these humble dwellings Inhabited by industrious virtue To console poverty discontented With its lot To cherish in the hearts of lovers The sacred flame of fidelity And to inspire a taste For the blessings of nature A love of honest labour And a dread of the allurements Of the riches The voice of the people which is Often silent with regard to the monuments Raced to kings Has given to some parts of this island Names which will immortalise the loss Of Virginia Near the Isle of Amber In the midst of sandbanks Is a spot called the Pass Of the Saint-Geron From the name of the vessel which was there lost The extremity of that Point of land which you see yonder Three leagues of Half covered with water And which the Saint-Geron could not Double the night before the hurricane Is called the Cape of Misfortune And before us At the end of the valley Is the Bay of the Tomb Where Virginia was found buried In the sand As if the waves had sought To restore her corpse to her family That they might render it The last sad duties on those shores Where so many years Of her innocent life had been passed Joined thus in death Ye faithful lovers Who were so tenderly united Unfortunate mothers Beloved family These woods which sheltered you With their foliage These fountains which flowed For you These hillsides upon which you reposed Still deplore your loss No one has since presumed To cultivate that desolate spot of land Or to rebuild those humble cottages Your goats are become wild Your orchards are destroyed Your birds are all fled And nothing is heard But the cry of the sparrow hawk As it skims in quest of prey Around this rocky basin As for myself Since I have ceased to behold you I have felt friendless And alone Like a father bereft of his children Or a traveller who wanders by himself Over the face of the earth Ending with these words The good old man retired Bathed in tears And my own too Had flowed more than once During this melancholy recital Of Paul and Virginia By Bernadine de Saint-Pierre Recording by Elis Christophe