 | EPILOGUE. Idomen, or, The vale of Yumuri |  |
6. EPILOGUE.
After listening to the story of Idomen, I
soon went to Matanzas. Ambrosio del Monte
had gained the heart of his soft-eyed Raphaëlla;
and when he returned to his paternal
roof, to ask a sanction of his nuptials, I was
pleased in being asked, by the feeling Dalcour,
to make my home at his abode.
The gracefulness of his declining years, and
the friendship he so soon had conceived for
me, enhanced in my imagination, the deep effect
of his narrative.
I obtained permission to write the story,
even as it flowed from his lips, and to make
such extracts as I chose from manuscripts,
which, like the memory of her who traced
them, were treasured as if relics of a divinity.
I wrote a few hours in the morning; sometimes
beneath a tent of thin muslin or lawn,
spread in the woods to preserve me entirely
from insects; but oftener was preferred the
coolness of my own retired apartment. The
to enter; but I forbore to remain there
a moment longer than was necessary to replace
the papers, taken from their cabinet of
porcelain, every day by the hands of Dalcour,
and given confidingly to my care, with the
silver key of the oratory.
The idolatrous respect which thus guarded
the remains of the departed was more fully
transfused through my soul, as I studied the
fragments left by domen.
Finished specimens, designs of poems entirely
new in their subject, and seemingly the
conception of a master, made me wish for life
and leisure, if it were only to give to my country
the outlines of this unknown being of the
new world, and I burned to become a disciple
of the dead, and to finish them as well as I
might.
The quiet pursuits of a man of letters accord
with my taste and capacity far better
than the bustle of the world. Health, with
the kindness of a benefactor secluded even as
he whose roof (26) uow gives me shelter, will be
enough for my success. May I rise from the
flames and fragments of her, who is deplored,
even as a phœnix, though less brilliant, to console
the guardian of the first.
The hours of my recreation were passed with
my bland protector, and I found in his daily
mode of life, a constant model for improvement.
He tasted the sweetness of leisure, and at
the same time, accomplished much. The concerns
of his estate were conducted with perfect
regularity; but every task required was
consistent with ease and indulgence. The
fruits of his flourishing fields were made ready
at home, then sent to a merchant at Matanzas.
The principal accounts of the whole
were kept, and written out, with his own hand;
but two or three hours in the morning entirely
sufficed for their completion.
In governing and supplying the wants of
more than a hundred human beings, but one
white man was employed; and he was not allowed
to punish, unless with the consent of
his superior. The deliquents of each preceding
day were kept in confinement till a
certain hour of the morning, when their master,
in person, gave audience; if any suffered
pain or injury, they were either relieved or
righted; if any justly merited punishment, its
infliction was not withheld; yet the sound of
the lash was seldom heard; and the penalty
of the greatest offence could not exceed a certain
limit.
At sunset, the whole band were assembled
in a ring, and repeated, by turns, an evening
prayer; they were then dismissed to their
amusement, till the sweet toned bell sounded
ten. The routine of their evening was varied
according to their wishes. Many prepared
and now united with the fruit of their own
little gardens. The palates of all dark people
appear to require strong excitements.—
Garlic, and the strong acid of the lime, predominates
often in their succulent ollas; and
the bright scarlet pimiento, which might well
be called vegetable fire, was not only boiled
with their favorite repasts, but eaten fresh
from its stem, like nectarines by the ladies of
Europe. The large crab that wanders through
the coffee fields, was often arrested in his
course, to be boiled with their other meats;
and some, retaining the taste of Africa, would
still roast serpents and insects; and eat them,
unseen, by their fires.
Plenty, and even profusion, pervaded this
little domain of a man wise and benevolent,
but sloth and waste were discouraged. Plantain
groves, with their broad leaves and sweet
mellow clusters, were free to every inhabitant;
but to cut down a shoot to no purpose, was
held in the light of an offence.
Composed, beneath the roof of one who was
worthy to be followed, I conformed entirely
to his customs; and gave the same time to
the labors of fancy as was passed, in business,
by him who so gently lent his favors. Always
at his side in the time of exercise, rode
at the hour of the passeo, sometimes on horseback,
to Matanzas, to see through the colours
its loveliest inhabitants.
Ladies in open volantes, their black braided
hair, decked with jewels or fresh flowers, for
the evening, appeared in their sweetest smiles;
cavaliers, darkly handsome, followed often in
other volantes, their fine heads uncovered save
with locks like ebony; and the waving of
hands softer than theirs was returned with varied
expression.
Scenes like these were before us; but when
we looked at the sky, palmettos rising high
amid the beautiful light, marked the narrow
boundary of the “pueblo,” and seemed beckoning
to our leafy abode.
When oppressed with heat or weariness,
Dalcour would ride slowly through the smooth
alleys of his plantation. Sometimes, entering
the woods, we cut with sabres the hanging
vines that hindered our course; while our
ponies gently bowed their heads to avoid the
tangled luxuriance.
To me, as to Idomen, every leaf, flower and
insect, was a page illuminated for my reading.
The white blossoms of the coffee fields had
dropped from their glossy wreathes, and berries
were forming in their places. The sugar
cane was green and tender; the sun was fiercely
advancing towards its vertic height, and the
earth was preparing to hide herself from his
glances in a mantle of sparkling showers.
The hours of labour, nourishment and recreation,
had passed in regular succession, and
I went with Dalcour to his flower twined piazza,
to pass a few moments in the coolness
of night, before the bell sounded for repose.
The moon was absent, and darkness hung over
the foliage.
I looked through the trees upon the beautiful
sky, and saw what I thought an uncommon
number of those meteors called falling stars.
Dalcour returned to the hall with a small
lantern of crystal and silver, in which was
burning the pure spirits of sugar cane; it was
the light carried in his own hand, to the woods,
when he sought for the blossoms of the night-flowering
cereus.
Holding on high this tasteful substitute for
moonlight, my bland host walked towards his
fountain (on the dewy Bermuda grass) and
waving it gently in the air, repeated with an
inviting cadence “cocuya.”
The white locks of the graceful old man,
attired in spotless linen, and surrounded by a
circle of rays from his lantern of crystal and
silver; his figure relieved by the darkness of
night, and, amidst the foliage, his benign countenance
raised towards the sky—the whole
combined seemed something more than mortal;
and something more than mortal they
were, for a refined intelligence enhanced and
beautified every object surrounding Dalcour.
While glancing at this living picture, curiosity
for an instant, was suspended, but soon
returned with renewed force when I saw those
which had seemed to be meteors, drawing
near to the person of my friend as if fraught
with love and reason.
They were but winged insects, once probably,
worms upon the earth. Yet it is no figure
of Fancy to call them creatures of light.
My protector took them as they descended,
and placed one upon my hand. It evinced
no fears, and made no endeavor to escape, but
crept slowly beneath the linen of my sleeve,
as if delighted with the warmth of humanity.
I placed two of these creatures in an open
vase of glass, with pieces of the tender sugar
cane, and set them on a stand by my bed-side.
Towards morning I awoke, and they were still
luminous. I held my watch towards the vase,
and saw how the time had advanced. A half
finished copy of a poem of domen was lying
beneath my pillow, and I read by their light many
verses. Holding the vase within the muslin
enclosure of my couch, I felt that a sensible
warmth had emanated from the insects
within it; they came out and crept upon my
arm, yet all night the vase had been open, and
they had not attempted to leave it. Brilliant
confiding creatures, you seemed to trust and
love me, and therefore I love you again!—
Let those who will study your natures; I speak
only of what I saw of you.
The regular hours of my protecting friend,
his light but nourishing table—his affectionate
conversation, and, above all, the interest
he took in my pursuits and welfare, had combined
in restoring me to health.
Educated for the church of Luther, and at
the same time fascinated by the charming muses
of my country, the hours that are claimed
by rest, I had given to the blandishments of
Fancy. My health had become enfeebled, and
seemed as if lost forever. To the warmth of
this Island I was sent for its recovery, and my
daily wants were supplied by the kindness of
an absent brother.
Gently, but earnestly pressed, the little to
be known of my life, was confided to him who
asked it, with the truth even of his Idomen.—
A promise of permanent assistance was the
fruit of my undisguised confidence. Dalcour,
reflective and delicate, soon offered to give
me such employ as might set aside the painfulness
of dependence, and increase his own happiness
in mine.
I had made sufficient progress in the language
of the country to converse and understand
the broken accents of the negroes; and
in them, I began the study of man in his natural
state. The difference wrought by civilization
between the greatest and the meanest,
seems at first sight to be immense; but the
kings of Europe, beneath canopies of silk and
to the same throbs of the heart which are
felt, with equal fullness, by the slave in his
palm-covered hut, amid the fruits and perfumes
of Cuba. Nature, fair daughter of God, and
executrix always of his will, the heart chords
of a prince and of a slave, give out, at thy powerful
touch, the same notes of the music of
bliss.
The soldier, the sailor and the slave, are
punished with touches of the thong, and tears
flow for their sufferings.
The stabs of scorn and contumely are given
in the highest halls of liberty, but none can
look upon the heart which bleeds or gangrenes
as it repels them!
I composed short addresses in Castilian,
pure, but simple as the soul infused through
the jetty arteries that tinted the skins of my
hearers.
The Saturday of christians was the night of
their weekly dances; drums of their own construction
were placed on the lawn before their
cottages with rude lyres, and flutes of four
notes. I repaired as the twilight was fading
to the entrance of the aisle of bamboos, and
ascended a pedestal of limestone erected near
the second cluster. No negro was ordered
to attend; but the white mayoral told his band
that the senor Herman Albrecht would speak
of things in that world to which men go when
and his veneration for that which is told but
unseen, are greater than even those of the philosopher.
The dance for a while, was suspended;
and on this, and every time when I
spoke, my words were received and remembered.
The scene was impressive and singular. In
the deep archway near the plantation, a sable
audience assembled; every eye was fixed upon
my countenance; the twilight had nearly departed,
but the far perspective of the high
pointed aisle of verdure was not entirely hidden
with darkness; and cocuyas from time to
time appeared amid its lesser arches, like stars
falling from the thick shapely roof of trembling
leaves.
But the vertic rains were approaching; and
Dalcour had found in me, one whom he dared
trust to bring to him the child of Idomen.
The summer would be long enough to suffer
me to go to the St. Lawrence and return
to these shades, ere the forests of the North
cast aside their autumnal covering.
The most earnest entreaties had been made
that the sickness and loss of his mother should
not be made known to Arvon Burleigh; and
recent letters from Pharamond Lloyde declared
that the boy knew not yet an event so difficult
to conceal from him. I was bid to win
the love of the orphan, and to speak of my protector
parent and kindred. When his feelings are
thus prepared, I am to mention the nature of
his loss, in a manner to leave upon his mind
the hope of a restoration.
A vessel will sail to-morrow; I go with reluctance
from this home of repose and beneficence.
Heaven grant that I bring safely, a
charge so dear to myself and to my own benefactor.
These pages I leave behind me, to
be kept in a cabinet of Porcelain, not far from
the papers of Idomen.
Thus finished what appeared to be an oral
narrative, written down when newly listened
to; the name affixed was Herman Albrecht.—
This young German left the valley of Yumuri
soon after the appearance of cocuyas in the
year 1827. On the same year, when the berries
of the coffee trees were beginning to be
red, he returned safely with the boy Arvon
Burleigh, and was retained as his tutor, by
Dalcour. He had lingered at the Falls of Niagara,
pursued the course of the St. Lawrence,
listened to the songs of Canadian boatmen,
and spoken with Pharamond and Ethelwald.
The hand of the last was still sought in vain;
and when told of the fate of Idomen, that white
hand was raised to conceal his countenance,
and he rushed suddenly from the presence of
those around him. His heart was true and
gentle; but the sorrows of the children of happiness
lightly, in summer, a firmament of gold and
azure.
The story of “Idomen,” with all that occurred
previous to the departure of the young
Lutheran, was arranged with some regularity,
but a few disjointed notes were all from which
a sequel could be gathered. Some of these
were by the same hand as the principal narrative,
while some were evidently written by another.
The boy Arvon Burleigh was brought
from the snows of the Ladaüanna, to be bathed
in the warm rains of Cuba. Every commission
of Dalcour had been faithfully performed;
and every thing put in train to amuse
and improve the mind of the sensitive orphan.
Of the son of Madame Burleigh Herman Albrecht
became the friend, and for some time,
at least, found health and contentment beneath
the leafy roof of his patron; but recalled suddenly
to Bavaria, by a brother who had loved
and cherished him, a rough copy of his MS.
was left him in Cuba, and translated for me
verbally, into my own mother tongue, by the
German friend of Dalcour.
Some part of the story must therefore have
passed through four translations.
Madame Burleigh, as it appears made her
confessions in English; Dalcour wrote them
down in his beloved native French; and Herman
Albrecht has given the whole story, in
must be far inferior to the rest, but the
genuine expressions of the heart are the same
in every idiom.
| EPILOGUE. Idomen, or, The vale of Yumuri | |