Olive Leaves; Or, Sketches of Character

by L. H. Sigourney

He gave him his benediction with great tenderness and solemnity, and the parting was tearful and affectionate. But the young traveller soon dismissed his sorrow, for the cheering influence of the charms of nature, and the gladness of liberty.

The genial season of spring diffused universal beauty. The vales spread out their green mantles to catch the showers of blossoms, with which every breeze covered them. Luxuriant vines lifted up their fragrant coronets. Young lambs playfully cropped the tender leaves. Quiet kids stood ruminating by the clear streams. Music was in all the branches. The father-bird cheered his companion, who, patient on her nest, brooded their future hopes.

"Surely," thought he, "the peasant is the most happy of men, dwelling in the midst of the innocence and beauty of creation."

Then, with the inconsistency natural to youth, he would extol the life of the soldier, its energy, hardihood, and contempt of danger; forgetting that, in this preference of war, he was applauding the science of all others the most hostile to nature and to man.

In the midst of such reflections he reached the spot of his nativity. The home of his ancestors was in the possession of others, a new and lordly race. Strange eyes looked upon him, where the voice of his parents was wont to welcome his returning steps with delight. He could not endure the grief in which none participated, and this solitude among scenes which his childhood loved. He sought to shake off at once his sorrow and his loneliness, and enlisted as a volunteer in the Protestant army. He flattered himself that religion dictated the measure: yet sometimes, in a sleepless hour, the monition of his distant benefactor would come mournfully, "He that taketh the sword shall perish by the sword." His first exploit in arms was at the siege of Ville-Franche, in Perigord, in the year 1576. He continued to follow the fortunes of the King of Navarre, and to endure without shrinking the dangers and privations of a soldier, with scarcely any intervals of peaceful life, until the battle of Coutras, where he fell, covered with wounds. This severe combat took place on the morning of October 20th, 1587. There, the King of Navarre, who, you remember, was afterwards Henry the Great, of France, distinguished himself by a daring courage. He first forced the ranks of the enemy. He seized several prisoners with his own hand. Conspicuous by the plume of white feathers in his lofty helmet, he was continually singled out as a mark, and yet escaped uninjured. Perceiving the Prince of Condé and the Count de Soissons, in the most exposed parts of the field, he exclaimed, 'All that I shall say to you, is, that you are of the house of Bourbon, and please God, I will show you that I am your elder brother.' The victory of the Protestants was complete. The contest lasted scarcely an hour, yet 5000 of their opponents were left dead upon the field. They were led on by the Duke de Joyeuse, who with his haughty brother, St. Sauveur, were drawn lifeless from among heaps of slain, their brows still fierce and frowning, as if they hated that death which could thus level all distinctions. I have mentioned that our ancestor fell in this engagement. He was not thirty years old, and left a wife and infant son, to mourn his untimely departure."

"Is it then from our grandmother that you learned all the circumstances of his story?"

"All these and many more. She was never weary of relating the changes of his life, and the sorrows of her early widowhood. Deeply did she impress on the mind of her son, and of his offspring, the evils of war, and the blessings of peaceful Christianity. Under his roof she dwelt, cherished and venerated, till the children of the third generation rose up to call her blessed. Never shall I forget with what emotions of grief and reverence he laid his hand upon her dying eyes, and wept at her tomb. The piety and love of peace which she had early instilled into his heart, rendered his home the abode of tranquillity, and domestic happiness. His industry, and correct judgment restored competence to a family, which the desolations of war had impoverished, and almost annihilated. Our paternal residence, even now, seems to rise up before me, visible and distinct, as in a picture. Uniting simplicity with comfort, it stood on a gentle slope of ground. In front, a row of chestnuts reared a canopy of lofty shade. Here the traveller sometimes rested, refreshing himself with the water of a little fountain, which, clear as crystal, oozed into a rustic limestone reservoir. In the rear of our residence, rose a hill where our goats found herbage. There they might sometimes be seen, maintaining so slight a footing on projecting cliffs, that they seemed to hang suspended by the mouth from the slight branch they were cropping. The tall poplars, which were interspersed among the foliage, conveyed to us the pensive murmur of approaching storms, and around their trunks, mossy seats were constructed, where we sometimes sat, watching the chequered rays of the moon, and singing our simple provincial melodies. Stretching at the foot of this hill, was the small domain whence we drew our subsistence. Diligence and economy made it fully equal to our wants, and to the claims of charity. Over the roots of the filbert, fig, and mulberry, crept the prolific melon. The gourd, supporting itself by their trunks, lifted its yellow globes into the air like orbs of gold, while still higher rose the aspiring vine, filling its glowing clusters for the wine-press. Our fields of wheat gave us bread, and the bearded oat rewarded the faithful animal that gathered in our harvest. Bees, hastening with busy hum to their sheltered cells, provided the luxury of our evening repast. The olive yielded us its treasures, and furnished an emblem of the peace that pervaded our abode. A genial soil made our labours light, and correct principles converted those labours into happiness. Our parents early taught their large family of twelve children, that indolence was but another name for vice and disgrace; that he, who for his subsistence rendered no return of usefulness, was unjust to society, and disobedient to God. So our industry commenced in infancy. In our hive there were no drones. We early began to look with pity on those whose parents neglected to teach them that well-directed industry was bliss. Among us there were no servants. With the first beams of morning, the band of brothers were seen cheerfully entering on their allotted employments. Some broke the surface of the earth, others strowed seeds or kernels of fruits, others removed the weeds which threatened to impede the harvest. By the same hands was our vintage tended, and our grain gathered into the garner. Our sisters wrought the flax which we cultivated, and changed the fleece of our flocks into a wardrobe for winter. They refreshed us after our toil with cakes flavoured with honey, and with cheeses, rivalling in delicacy those of Parma. They arranged in tasteful baskets of their own construction, fresh fruits or aromatic herbs, or rich flowers for the market. They delighted sometimes to mingle in our severer labours; and when we saw the unwonted exertion heightening the bloom of their cheeks, or placed in their hair the half-blown wild rose, to us, who had seen nothing more fair, they were perfect in grace and beauty. Sometimes at twilight, or beneath the soft evening air of summer, we mingled in the dance, to the music of our flute and viol. Our parents and our grandmother seated near, enjoyed the pastime, and spoke of their own youth, and of the goodness of the Almighty Sire. Often, assembled in our pleasant parlour, each read in turn to the listening auditory, histories of what man has been, or fictitious representations of what he might be, from the pages of the moral painter or the poet. The younger ones received regular lessons in the rudiments of education, and the elder ones, in succession, devoted a stated portion of each day to the pursuit of higher studies, under the direction of their parents. When the family circle convened in the evening, he was the happiest who could bring the greatest amount of useful and interesting information to the general stock. The acquisition of knowledge, which to indolent minds is so irksome, was to us a delightful recreation from severer labours. The exercise which gave us physical vigour, seemed also to impart intellectual energy. The application to which we were inured gave us the more entire control of our mental powers, while the almost unvaried health that we enjoyed preserved elasticity of spirits, and made all our pleasures more sweet. Such was our mode of life, that we were almost insensible to inconvenience from the slight changes of the seasons. In any temporary indisposition or casualty, our mother was our ministering angel. Her acquaintance with the powers of the medicinal plants, that filled her favourite part of the garden, and still more, her intimate knowledge of the little diversities in our constitutions, usually produced a favourable result. She also perfectly understood the slight shades in our disposition and character, and by thus tracing the springs of action to their minuter sources, advanced with more certainty to the good ends of education. Mingled with her love, was a dignity, a decision that commanded our respect. Without this, the parental relation loses its influence, and sacrifices that attribute of authority with which it was invested by the Eternal. Piety was taught us by the example of our parents. We were early led to consider the morning and evening orison and the Sabbath, as periods in which we were invited to mingle our thoughts with angels; and that he who was negligent or indifferent to them, forfeited one of the highest privileges of his nature.

Thus happy was our domestic government. It mingled the pastoral and patriarchal features. I have never seen any system more favourable to individual improvement, and the order, harmony, and prosperity of the whole.

But I am forgetting, dear child, that you must be wearied with my wandering tale and numerous reflections. It is so pleasant to recall the days of childhood, and the images of my parents and brothers and sisters, that I may have taken an old man's privilege too freely, and talked beyond your patience."

"How much I am indebted to you, my dear grandfather, for your kind evening's entertainment. I hope I shall profit from the moral of your story, as well as from the pleasure of listening to it. I trust I shall learn to love peace, and industry, and piety."