Part 2

* The month of Way.

“In that city, but then recently built by the Spaniards, I ran the risk of being carried away to the mines of Mexico, when an old Castilian, named Lopez, touched by my youth and simplicity, offered me an asylum, and presented me to his sister, with whom he was living spouseless.

“Both of them took to me in the tenderest manner. I was brought up with much care, and had all sorts of masters given to me. But after having passed thirty moons at Saint Augustine, I was afflicted with a disgust for the life of cities. I fell away visibly: sometimes I remained motionless for hours whilst contemplating the summits of distant forests; at other times I might be seen seated on the banks of a river, gazing sadly upon the flowing waters. I figured to myself the woods through which those waters had passed, and my soul was thus entirely given up to solitude.

“No longer able to resist the desire of returning to the desert, I one morning presented myself to Lopez dressed in my savage attire, holding in one hand my bow and arrows, and in the other my European costume, which I returned to my generous protector, at whose feet I fell, shedding a torrent of tears, giving myself odious names, and accusing myself of ingratitude. ‘After all, O my father,’ said I to him, ‘you see it yourself; I must die if I do not resume the life of the Indian.’

“Lopez, struck with astonishment, endeavored to change my determination. He spoke of the dangers I was about to encounter, by exposing myself to the possibility of falling into the hands of the Muscogulges. But perceiving at last that I was resolved to risk everything, he melted into tears, and, pressing me in his arms with affection, ‘Go,’ said he, ‘child of Nature; take back this independence of man, of which Lopez does not wish to deprive you. If I were myself younger, I would accompany you to the desert (where I also have sweet remembrances), and restore you to your mother’s arms. When you shall be once again in your forests, think sometimes of the old Spaniard who gave you hospitality, and remember, in order that you may be disposed to love your fellow-creatures, that your first experience of the human heart was altogether in its favor.’ Lopez finished by a prayer to the God of the Christians, whose religion I had refused to embrace, and we separated with much sadness.

* The god of war.

“It was not long before I was punished for my ingratitude. My inexperience caused me to lose myself in the wood, and I was taken by a party of Muscogulges and Seminoles, as Lopez had predicted. My dress, and the feathers ornamenting my head, caused me to be recognized as a Natchez.

[Illustration: 021]

[Illustration: 023]

I was enchained, but slightly, on account of my youth. Simaghan, the leader of the troop, desired to learn my name. I replied, ‘I am called Chactas, son of Outalissi, son of Miscou, who have taken more than a hundred scalps from the heroes of the Muscogulges.’ Simaghan then said, ‘Chactas, son of Outalissi, son of Miscou, rejoice; thou shalt be burnt at the big village.’ I answered, ‘That is well,’ and began to chaunt the song of death.

“Although a prisoner, I could not refrain, during the first few days, from admiring my enemies. The Muscogulge, and especially his ally, the Seminole, is full of gaiety, love and contentment. His walk is light, his mien calm and open. He speaks much, and with volubility. His language is harmonious and flowing. Even age does not deprive the sachems of this joyous simplicity: like the old birds of our forests, they mingle their ancient songs with the fresh notes of their young posterity.

“The women who accompanied the troop displayed for my youth a tender pity and an amiable curiosity. They questioned me about my mother, concerning the earliest days of my life; and they wanted to know whether my cradle of moss had been hung upon the flowering branches of the maple-trees, and whether the breezes had rocked me near the nests of the little birds. Then came a thousand other questions as to the state of my heart. They asked me if I had seen a white fawn in my dreams, and whether the trees of the secret valley had advised me to love. I replied with simplicity to the mothers, to the daughters, and to the spouses of the men, saying, ‘You are the graces of the day, and the night loves you like dew. Man issues from your loins to hang upon your breast and upon your lips: you know the magic words that lull every pain. So was I told by her who brought me into the world, and who will never see me again! She told me also that maidens are mysterious flowers met with in solitary places.’

“These praises gave much pleasure to the women, who overwhelmed me with all sorts of presents, and brought me cocoa-nut cream, maple-tree sugar, saganrite, * bear-hams, beaver-skins, shells with which to ornament myself, and moss for my couch. They sang and laughed with me, and then took to shedding tears at the thought that I was to be burnt.

* A description of cake made with Indian corn.

“One night, when the Muscogulges had pitched their camp on the outskirt of a forest, I was seated near the war-fire with the guard who had charge of me. All of a sudden, I heard the sound of a dress upon the grass, and a female, half-veiled, came and sat down by my side. Tears were rolling from beneath her eyelids, and I saw by the light of the fire that a small golden crucifix shone upon her bosom. She was altogether beautiful, and I remarked upon her countenance an expression of virtue and passion of irresistible attraction. To that she added the most tender graces: an extreme sensitiveness, united to a profound melancholy, breathed in her looks, and her smile was heavenly.

“I took her to be the Virgin of the last Loves, the virgin sent to the prisoner of war to enchant his tomb. Under this impression, I said to her stammeringly, and with an emotion that did not, however, proceed from any feeling of fear of the funeral pile, ‘O virgin, you are worthy of a first love, and you are not made for the last. The palpitations of a heart that will soon cease to beat would ill respond to the movements of your own. How can death and life lie mingled together? You would cause me to regret too much the approach of day. Let another be happier than myself, and may long embraces unite the tender plant to the oak!’

“The youthful maiden then said to me, ‘I am not the Virgin of the last Loves. Are you a Christian?’ I replied that I had not betrayed the genii of my cottage. At these words the Indian made an involuntary movement, and said, ‘I pity you for being merely a wicked idolator. My mother made me a Christian; my name is Atala, and I am the daughter of Simaghan of the Golden Bracelets, the chief of the warriors of this troop. We are going to Apalachucla, where you will be burnt.’ Having uttered these words, Atala rose and took her departure.”

Here. Chactas was compelled to interrupt his story. A crowd of souvenirs rushed into his soul; his closed eyes inundated his furrowed cheeks with tears, just as two springs, hidden in the profound depths of the earth, reveal themselves by the waters they send filtering between the rocks.

“Oh, my son,” said he, after a long pause, “you perceive that Chactas is not very wise, notwithstanding his reputation for wisdom. Alas! my dear child, although men can no longer see, they can still weep! Several days passed. Every evening the old man’s daughter came to converse with me. Sleep had fled from my eyes, and Atala was in my heart like the remembrance of the resting-place of my fathers.

“On the seventeenth day of our march, about the time when the ephemeran rises from the waters, we entered upon the grand savannah of Alachua. The plain is surrounded with hills, which, receding behind one another, are covered, as they appear to touch the clouds, with ranges of forests of palm-trees, citron-trees, magnolias and oaks. The chief uttered the cry of arrival, and the troop encamped at the foot of a hill-side. I was left at some distance, on the border of one of those natural wells so famous in the Floridas, attached to the trunk of a tree, and guarded by a warrior who watched me with impatience. I had passed but some moments in this place when Atala appeared beneath the liquid ambers of the fountain. ‘Hunter,’ said she to the Muscogulgan hero, ‘if you would like to chase the stag, I will guard the prisoner.’ The warrior jumped for joy at this offer of the chiefs daughter, and at once hurried from the top of the hill, and directed his steps towards the plain.

“What a strange contradiction is the heart of man! I, who had so much desired to speak of things mysterious to her whom I already loved like the sun, suddenly became troubled and confused, and felt as though I should have preferred to be thrown amongst the crocodiles in the fountain to finding myself alone with Atala. The daughter of the desert was as much affected as her prisoner. We observed a profound silence; for the genii of love had deprived us of speech. After an interval, Atala, making an effort, spoke thus: ‘Warrior, you are held but slightly: you can easily escape.’ At these words courage returned to my tongue, and I replied, ‘But slightly held, O woman!’---- I could not complete my phrase. Atala hesitated some moments, and then said, ‘Fly!’ at the same time liberating me from the trunk of the tree. I seized the cord, and returned it to the hand of the foreign maiden, forcing her beautiful fingers to close themselves upon my chain. ‘Take it back! Take it back!’ I cried. ‘You are mad!’ said Atala, in a voice full of emotion. ‘Wretched man, do you not know that you will be burnt? What do you mean? Do you reflect that I am the daughter of a redoubtable sachem?’ ‘There was a time,’ I replied, with tears, ‘when I also was carried about in a beaver-skin on the shoulders of a mother: my father also had a fine cottage, and his fawns drank of the waters of a thousand torrents; but I now wander without a country. When I shall have ceased to exist, no friend will place a little grass over my body, to keep the insects away from it. The corpse of an unhappy stranger interests no one.’

“These words touched Atala. Her tears fell into the fountain. ‘Ah,’ I continued with vivacity, ‘if your heart spoke like mine! Is not the desert free? Do not the forests contain folds in which we could conceal ourselves? And, in order to be happy, are there so many things necessary for the children of the huts? O maiden, more beautiful than the first dream of a spouse! O my well-beloved, dare to follow me!’ Such was my language. Atala replied to me in a tender tone of voice, ‘My young friend, you have learnt the expressions of the white men; it is easy to deceive an Indian girl!’ ‘What!’ I exclaimed, ‘you call me your young friend. Ah, if a poor slave’---- ‘Well,’ said she, leaning upon me, ‘a poor slave’----

I continued with ardor, ‘Let a kiss assure him of your faith!’ Atala listened to my prayers. As a fawn appears to cling to the flowers of the rosy creepers which it seizes with its delicate tongue on the mountain-steeps, so I remained attached to the lips of my well-beloved.

[Illustration: 027]

“Alas, my dear son, pain is in close attendance upon pleasure. Who could have thought that the moment in which Atala gave me the first token of her love should be precisely that in which she would destroy all my hopes? White hairs of old Chactas, what was your astonishment when the daughter of the sachem pronounced these words: ‘Beautiful prisoner, I have foolishly given way to your desire; but whither will this passion lead us? My religion separates me from you for ever----. Oh, my mother, what hast thou done?’---- Atala became suddenly silent, and kept back I know not what fatal secret about to escape from her lips. Her words plunged me into despair. ‘Well, then,’ I exclaimed, ‘I will be as cruel as you; I will not escape. You shall see me in the flame of fire; you shall hear the groans of my flesh, and you will be full of joy.’ Atala took my hands between both of hers. ‘Poor young idolator,’ she cried, ‘I really grieve for you! You wish me, then, to weep my whole heart out? What a pity I cannot fly with you! Unhappy was the bosom of thy mother, O Atala! Why dost thou not throw thyself to the crocodiles in the fountain?’

“That very moment the crocodiles, at the approach of the setting of the sun, began to make their cries heard. Atala said to me, ‘Let us leave this place.’ I led away the daughter of Simaghan to the foot of the hills, which form gulfs of verdure by advancing their promontories into the savannahs. Everything in the desert was splendidly imposing. The stork was screaming upon its nest; the woods resounded with the monotonous song of the quails, the whistling of the paraquets, the lowing of the bisons and the neighing of the Siminolian cavalry.

“Our promenade was almost a dumb one. I walked by the side of Atala, who was holding the end of the cord which I had forced her to take back again. Sometimes we shed tears, and sometimes we endeavored to smile. A look, now directed towards the sky and then towards the earth; an ear listening to the song of the birds; a gesture towards the setting sun; a hand tenderly pressed; a bosom by turns palpitating and tranquil: the names of Chactas and Atala softly repeated at intervals! Oh, first promenade of love, thy souvenir must be extremely powerful, since after so many years of misfortune it can still stir the heart of old Chactas!

“How incomprehensible are mortals when agitated by the passions! I had just abandoned the generous-hearted Lopez; I had just exposed myself to every danger for the sake of liberty, and in one instant the look of a woman had changed my tastes, my resolutions, my thoughts! Forgetful of my country, my mother, my cabin, and the frightful death awaiting me, I had become indifferent to everything that was not Atala. Lacking strength to raise myself to the reason of a man, I had suddenly fallen into a sort of childishness, and, far from being able to do anything to extricate myself from threatening misfortunes, I almost required some one to provide me with the means of sleep and nourishment.

“It was therefore in vain that Atala, after our ramble in the savannah, threw herself at my knees and again begged me to leave her. I declared that I would return alone to the camp, if she refused to re-attach me to the trunk of my tree. She was compelled to comply with my request, hoping to convince me another time.

“The next day, which decided the fate of my life, we halted in a valley not far from Cuscowilla, the capital of the Seminoles. These Indians, together with the Muscogulges, form the confederation of the Creeks. The daughter of the land of palm-trees came to find me in the middle of the night. She conducted me to a great pine-forest, and renewed her entreaties to induce me to escape. Without replying to her, I took her hand in mine, and forced the thirsting fawn to wander with me into the forest. The night was delicious. The genius of the air appeared to be shaking the blue canopy, embalmed with the odor of the pines; and we breathed a slight perfume of amber emitted by the crocodiles asleep beneath the tamarind-trees by the river-side. The moon was shining in the midst of a spotless azure, and the pearl-grey light fell upon the undefined summit of the forests. Not a sound was to be heard, except I know not what distant harmony that reigned in the depth of the woods. It seemed as though the soul of solitude was sighing throughout the entire extent of the desert.

“Through the trees we perceived a young man, who, holding a torch in his hand, looked like the genius of spring visiting the forests to reanimate Nature. He was a lover on his way to learn his fate at the cabin of his mistress.

“Should the maiden blow out the torch, she accepts the offered vows; but if she veil herself without extinguishing it, she refuses the spouse.

“The warrior, gliding through the shades, chanted these words in a low tone of voice:

“‘I will outrun the steps of the daylight upon the mountain-tops to seek my lonely dove in the midst of the oaks of the forest.

“‘I have fastened around her throat a necklace of porcelain, * with three red beads for my love, three violet ones for my fears, three blue ones for my hopes.

* A necklace of shells.

“‘Mila has the eyes of an ermine, and hair as light as a field of rice; her mouth is a pink shell lined with pearls; her two breasts are like two little spotless kids, born the same day of one mother.

[Illustration: 031]

“‘May Mila extinguish this torch! May her mouth cast a voluptuous shade over it! I will fertilize her bosom! The hope of the country shall hang from her fruitful breast, and I will smoke my calumet of peace by the cradle of my son.

“‘Ah! let me outrun the steps of the daylight upon the mountain-tops to seek my lonely dove amidst the oaks of the forest!’

“Thus sang this young man, whose accents agitated me to the bottom of my soul, and caused Atala to chance countenance. Our united hands trembled in each other. But we were diverted from this scene by another scene not less dangerous for us.

“We passed near a child’s tomb, which served as a boundary between two nations. It had been placed on the border of the road, according to custom, in order that the young wives, when going to the fountain, might draw into their bosom the soul of the innocent creature, and restore it to the country. At this moment several newly-married spouses were there, and, desirous of the sweets of maternity, were endeavoring, by opening their lips, to receive the soul of the little child, which they fancied they saw wandering amongst the flowers. The veritable mother came afterwards, and deposited a bunch of corn and white lilies upon the tomb; she sprinkled the earth with her milk, sat down upon the damp turf, and spoke thus to her child in an impassioned voice:

“‘Why do I weep for thee in thy earthly cradle, O my new-born? When the little bird has grown, it must seek its own nutriment, and finds many bitter seeds in the desert. At least thou hast been unconscious of tears; at least thy heart has not been exposed to the devouring breath of men. The bud that dries up in its envelope passes away with all its perfumes, like thou, O my son, with all thine innocence. Happy are those who die in the cradle! they have only known the kisses and smiles of a mother!’

“Already subdued by our own hearts, we were overwhelmed by the images of love and maternity which seemed to pursue us in these enchanted solitudes. I carried Atala away in my arms to the extremity of the forest, where I told her things that I should in vain endeavor to repeat to-day with my lips. The southern wind, my dear son, loses its heat on passing over mountains of ice. The souvenirs of love in the heart of an old man are like the fires of day reflected by the peaceful orb of the moon when the sun has set, and silence spreads itself over the huts of the savages.

“What could save Atala? what could prevent her from succumbing to Nature? Nothing, doubtless, but a miracle; and that miracle was accomplished. The daughter of Simaghan had recourse to the God of the Christians; she threw herself upon the ground, and uttered a fervent prayer, addressed to her mother and to the Queen of Virgins. It was from this moment, O René, that I entertained a wonderful idea of that religion which, in the forests, in the midst of all the privations of life, imparts a thousand boons to the unfortunate; of that religion which, opposing its power to the torrent of the passions, suffices alone to conquer them, when everything else is in their favor--the secrecy of the woods, the absence of men, and the fidelity of the shades. Ah, how divine to me appeared that simple savage, the ignorant Atala, who, on her knees before an old fallen pine-tree, as at the foot of an altar, was offering up a prayer to her God in favor of an idolatrous lover! Her eyes raised towards the star of the night, her cheeks, brilliant with tears of religion and of love, were of immortal beauty. Several times it appeared to me as though she were about to take her flight to heaven; several times I fancied I saw come down upon the rays of the moon, and heard amidst the trees, those genii whom the God of the Christians sends to the hermits of the rocks when He is about to call them back to Himself. I was afflicted by all this, for I feared that Atala had but little time to remain on earth.

“Nevertheless, she shed such abundant tears, she appeared so unhappy, that I was perhaps upon the point of consenting to take my departure, when the cry of death resounded through the forest. Four armed men rushed upon me. We had been discovered; the war-chief had given orders for our pursuit.

“Atala, who resembled a queen in the pride of her demeanor, disdained to speak to these warriors. She glanced nobly at them, and went forthwith to Simaghan.

“She could obtain no concession. My guards were doubled, my chains increased, and my lover was kept away from me. Five nights passed, and then we perceived Apalachucla, situated on the banks of the river Chata-Uche. I was immediately crowned with flowers; my face was painted blue and red; beads were fastened to my nose and to my ears, and a chichikoué * was placed in my hand.

“Thus prepared for the sacrifice, I entered Apalachucla amidst the reiterated shouts of the crowd. My fate was sealed; when all of a sudden the sound of a conch was heard, and the mico, or chief of the nation, ordered an assembly.