The World's Greatest Books - Volume 2 Part 37

I wanted to find work in a mine to save me from my thoughts.

My boots began to be worn out. My slender means made me decide to buy a strong pair that had already been used; new ones were too dear. I put them on at once, and walked out of the village, scarcely noticing the way, since I was thinking deeply of the mine I hoped to reach the same night, and of the manner in which I was to obtain employment. I had scarcely walked two hundred steps, when I noticed that I had lost the road. I was in a wild virginal forest. Another few steps and I was on an endless ice-field. The cold was unbearable, and I had to hasten my steps. I ran for a few minutes, and found myself in rice-fields where Chinese labourers were working. There could be no doubt; I had seven- league boots on my feet!

I fell on my knees, shedding tears of grat.i.tude. Now my future was clear. Excluded from society, study and science were to be my future strength and hope. I wandered through the whole world from east to west, from north to south, comparing the fauna and flora of the different regions. To reduce the speed of my progress, I found I had only to pull a pair of slippers over my boots. When I wanted money, I just took an ivory tusk to sell in London. And finally I made a home in the ancient caves of the desert near Thebes.

Once in the far north I encountered a polar bear. Throwing off my slippers, I wanted to step upon an island facing me. I firmly placed my foot on it, but on the other side I fell into the sea, as the slipper had not come off my boot. I saved my life and hurried to the Libyan desert to cure my cold in the sun; but the heat made me ill. I lost consciousness, and when I awoke again I was in a comfortable bed among other beds, and on the wall facing me I saw inscribed in golden letters my own name.

To cut things short--the inst.i.tution which had received me had been founded by Bendel and the widowed Mina with my money, and in my honour had been called the Schlemihlium. As soon as I felt strong enough, I returned to my desert cave, and thus I live to this day.

You, my dear Chamisso, are to be the keeper of my strange history, which may contain useful advice for many. You, if you will live among men, honour first the shadow, then the money. But, if you live only for your better self, you will need no advice.

CHATEAUBRIAND

Atala

Francois Rene, Vicomte de Chateaubriand, born on September 4, 1768, at St. Malo, Brittany, was as distinguished for his extraordinary and romantic career as for the versatility of his genius. At the height of the Revolution (1791) he left for America with the intention of discovering the North-West pa.s.sage, but in two years returned to fight on the royalist side, and was wounded at the siege of Thionville. Emigrating to England, he remained in London for eight years, supporting himself with difficulty by translating and teaching and writing. Returning to France, Chateaubriand was appointed by Napoleon secretary to the emba.s.sy in Rome, but the execution of the Duke d'Enghien so repelled him that he resigned and set out on a long Oriental journey. Living in privacy till the fall of Napoleon, he then returned to his native land, and from 1822 to 1824 was amba.s.sador to the British Court. His whole political career was eccentric and uncertain, and he himself declared that he was by heredity and honour a Bourbonist, by conviction a Monarchist, but by temperament a Republican. He died on July 4, 1848. "Atala," which appeared in 1801, formed the first part of a prose epic, "The Natchez,"

on the wild and picturesque life of the Red Indians, the idea for which Chateaubriand had conceived while wandering about America. It at once raised its author to the highest position in the French literary world of the age of Napoleon. In 1802, Chateaubriand published a work of still greater importance--at least, from a social point of view--"The Genius of Christianity"--which magnificent and gorgeous piece of rhetoric produced a profound change in the general att.i.tude of Frenchmen in regard to religion, undid to some extent the destructive work of Voltaire, and was instrumental in inducing Napoleon to come to terms with the Pope. But it is on "Atala"

that Chateaubriand's t.i.tle to be one of the greatest masters of French prose literature depends.

_I.--The Song of Death_

"It is surely a singular fate," said the old, blind Red Indian chief to the young Frenchman, "which has brought us together from the ends of the earth. I see in you a civilised man, who, for some strange reason, wishes to become a savage. You see in me a savage, who, also for some strange reason, has tried to become a civilised man. Though we have entered on life from two opposite points, here we are, sitting side by side. And I, a childless man, have sworn to be a father to you, and you, a fatherless boy, have sworn to be a son to me."

Chactas, the chief of the Natchez, and Rene, the Frenchman, whom he had adopted into his tribe, were sitting at the prow of a pirogue, which, with its sail of sewn skins outstretched to the night wind, was gliding down the moonlit waters of the Ohio, amid the magnificent desert of Kentucky. Behind them was a fleet of pirogues, which Rene was piloting on a hunting foray. Seeing that all the Indians were sleeping, Chactas went on talking to his adopted son.

"How little, even now, we know of each other, Rene. You never told me what it was that made you leave France in 1725, and come to Louisiana, and ask to be admitted to our tribe. I have never told you why I have not married and got children to succeed me, and help me in my old age to govern my people.

"It is now seventy-three years since my mother brought me into the world on the banks of the Mississippi. In 1652 there were a few Spaniards settled in the bay of Pensacola, but no white man was then seen in Louisiana. I was scarcely seventeen years old when I fought with my father, the famous warrior Outalissi, against the Creeks of Florida. We were then allied with the Spaniards, but, in spite of the help they gave us, we were defeated. My father was killed, and I was grievously wounded. Oh, why did I then not descend into the land of the dead? Happy indeed should I have been had I thus escaped from the fate which was waiting for me on earth!

"But one of our allies, an old Castilian, named Lopez, moved by my youth and simplicity, rescued me in the battle and led me to the town of St.

Augustin, which his countrymen had recently built. My benefactor took me to his home, and he and his sister adopted me as their son, and tried to teach me their knowledge and religion. But after pa.s.sing thirteen months at St. Augustin I was seized with a disgust for town life. The city seemed to me a prison, and I longed to get back to the wild life of my fathers. At last I resolved to return to my tribe, and one morning I came to Lopez, clad in the dress of the Natchez, with bow and arrows in one hand, and a tomahawk in the other.

"'Oh, my father,' I said to him, my face streaming with tears, 'I shall die if I stay in this city. I am an Indian, and I must live like an Indian.'

"Lopez tried to detain me by pointing out the peril I was running. But I already knew that in order to join the Natchez I should have to pa.s.s through the country of the Creeks, and might fall into the hands of our old enemies; and this did not deter me. At last, Lopez, seeing how resolute I was, said, 'Go, my boy, and G.o.d be with you! Were I only younger, I, too, would return with you to the wilderness, where the happiest part of my life was spent. But when you get back to the forest, think sometimes of the old Spaniard of St. Augustin, and if ever a white man falls into your hands, treat him, my son, as I have treated you.'

"It was not long, Rene, before I was punished for my ingrat.i.tude in running away from my protector. I had forgotten in the city my knowledge of wood-craft, and I lost my way in the great forest, and was captured by a band of Creeks. My costume and the feathers in my hair proclaimed me one of the Natchez, and when Simaghan, the chief of the band, bound me, and demanded who I was, I proudly answered. 'I am Chactas, the son of the Outalissi who took more than a hundred scalps from the warriors of the Creeks.'

"'Chactas, son of Outalissi,' said Simaghan, 'rejoice! We will burn you before our wig-wams.'

"'That is good news,' I said, and thereupon I sang my song of death.

"Although the Creeks were my enemies, I could not help admiring them.

They were fine, handsome men of a merry and open nature, and their women were beautiful, and full of pity towards me. One night, while I was lying sleepless beside their camp fire, one of their maidens came and sat by my side. Her face was strangely lovely; her eyes shone with tears; and a little golden crucifix on her bosom glittered as the firelight played upon it.

"'Maiden,' I said, 'your beauty is too great to be wasted on a dying man. Let me die without tasting the delights of love. They would only make death more bitter to me. You are worthy to be the squaw of a great chief. Wait till you can find a lover with whom you can live in joy and happiness all your life.'

"'Are you a Christian?' asked the maiden.

"'No,' I replied. 'I have not betrayed the faith of my forefathers.'

"'Oh, you are only a wicked heathen,' she exclaimed, covering her face with her hands and weeping. 'I have been baptised by my mother. I am Atala, daughter of Simaghan of the golden bracelets, and the chief of this band. We are going to Cuscowilla, where you will be burnt.'

"And with a look of anger, Atala rose up and went away."

Here Chactas for a moment became silent. Tears rolled from his blind eyes down his withered cheeks.

"Oh Rene, my son," he said, "you see that Chactas is very foolish in spite of his reputation for wisdom! Why do men still weep, even when age has blinded their eyes? Every night Atala came to see me, and a strange love for her was born in my heart. After marching for seventeen days, my captors brought me to the great savannah of Alachua, and camped in a valley not far from Cuscowilla, the capital of the Creeks. I was bound to the foot of a tree outside the town, and a warrior was set to watch over me.

"But in the evening Atala came, and said to him, 'If you would like to go hunting, I will look after the prisoner.'

"The young warrior leaped up, full of joy at being relieved by the daughter of his chief, and when he had gone, Atala released me.

"'Now, Chactas,' she murmured, turning her face away from me, 'you can escape.'

"'I do not want to escape,' I cried, 'unless I can escape with you!'

"'But they will burn you,' she said. 'They will burn you to-morrow!'

"'What does it matter,' I exclaimed, 'if you do not love me?'

"'But I do love you,' said Atala, and she bent over and kissed me.

"Then with a wild look of terror, she pushed me away from her, and staggering up to the tree, she covered her face with her hands, and sobbed, rocking herself to and fro in her grief.

"'Oh, my mother, my mother!' she sobbed. 'I have forgotten my vow. I cannot follow you,' she said, turning to me. 'You are not a Christian.'

"'But I will be a Christian,' I cried. 'Only come with me, Atala, and I will be baptised by the first priest that we meet. There are several missionaries among the Natchez.'

"To my utter astonishment, instead of this comforting Atala, it only made her weep more pa.s.sionately. Her body shook with sobs as I took her up in my arms and carried her away from the town into the great forest.

At last she grew calmer, and asked me to set her down, and, striking a narrow track between the dark trees, we marched along silently and quickly, stopping now and then to listen if we were being followed. We heard nothing but the crackling tread of some nocturnal beast of prey, or the cry of some animal in the agony of death. On coming to an opening in the forest I made a shelter for the night. Atala then threw herself at my feet, and clasped my knees, and again begged me to leave her. But I swore that, if she returned to the camp, I would follow her, and give myself up. As we were talking, the cry of death rang through the forest, and four warriors fell upon me and bound me. Our flight had been discovered, and Simaghan had set out in pursuit with all his band.

"In vain did Atala plead for me; I was condemned to be burnt. Happily, the Feast of Souls was being held, and no tribe dares to kill a captive during the days consecrated to this solemn ceremony. But after the feast I was bound down on the ground before the sacred totem pillars, and all the maidens and warriors of the Creek nation danced around me, chanting songs of triumph. Again I sang my song of death.

"'I do not fear your torments! For I am brave! I defy you, for you are all weaker than women. My father, Outalissi, has drunk from the skulls of your bravest warriors. Burn me! Torture me! But you will not make me groan; you will not make me sigh.'

"Angered by my song, a Creek warrior stabbed me in the arm. 'Thank you,'

I said.

"To make sure that I should not again escape, they bound cords around my neck and feet and arms; the ends of these cords were fastened in the earth by means of pegs, and a band of warriors set to watch over me laid down on the cords, so that I could not make a single movement of which they were not aware. The songs and dances gradually ceased as night came on, and the camp fires burnt low and red, and, in spite of my pain, I, too, fell asleep. I dreamt that someone was setting me free, and I seemed to feel that sharp anguish which shoots along the nerves when ropes, which are bound so tightly as to stop the flow of blood, are suddenly cut from the numbed limbs. The pain became so keen that it made me open my eyes. A tall, white figure was bending over me, silently cutting my cords. It was Atala. I rose up and followed her through the sleeping camp.