Paul and Virginia [48]
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?
/Paul./--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--when 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 to foresee our necessities, gave us also those very necessities to set limits to its exercise.
/Paul./--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?
/Paul./--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 pitied than Madame de la Tour, who, for want of their assistance, sacrifice their liberty for bread, and pass their lives immured 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 huts; she looked so beautiful and so well dressed with a red handkerchief or a few flowers around her head! Return, Virginia! leave 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 who 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.
/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 lovers 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 passed. While young, they seduce the wives of others, and when they are old, they cannot secure the 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 one side is sure
/Paul./--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--when 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 to foresee our necessities, gave us also those very necessities to set limits to its exercise.
/Paul./--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?
/Paul./--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 pitied than Madame de la Tour, who, for want of their assistance, sacrifice their liberty for bread, and pass their lives immured 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 huts; she looked so beautiful and so well dressed with a red handkerchief or a few flowers around her head! Return, Virginia! leave 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 who 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.
/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 lovers 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 passed. While young, they seduce the wives of others, and when they are old, they cannot secure the 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 one side is sure