Virginia -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
June came to tide-water Virginia with long, warm days and with the odor
of many roses. Day by day the cloudless sunshine visited the land:
night by night the large pale stars looked into its waters. It was a
slumberous land, of many creeks and rivers that were wide, slow, and
deep, of tobacco fields and lofty, solemn forests, of vague marshes,
of white mists, of a haze of heat far and near. The moon of blossoms
was past, and the red men--few in number now--had returned from their
hunting, and lay in the shade of the trees in the villages that the
English had left them, while the women brought them fish from the
weirs, and strawberries from the vines that carpeted every poisoned
field or neglected clearing. The black men toiled amidst the tobacco
and the maize; at noontide it was as hot in the fields as in the middle
passage, and the voices of those who sang over their work fell to a
dull crooning. The white men who were bound served listlessly; they
that were well were as lazy as the weather; they that were newly come
over and ill with the “seasoning” fever tossed upon their pallets,
longing for the cooling waters of home. The white men who were free
swore that the world, though fair, was warm, and none walked if he
could ride. The sunny, dusty roads were left for shadowed bridle paths;
in a land where most places could be reached by boat, the water would
have been the highway but that the languid air would not fill the
sails. It was agreed that the heat was unnatural, and that, likely
enough, there would be a deal of fever during the summer.
But there was thick shade in the Fair View garden, and when there was
air at all it visited the terrace above the river. The rooms of the
house were large and high-pitched; draw to the shutters, and they
became as cool as caverns. Around the place the heat lay in wait: heat
of wide, shadowless fields, where Haward’s slaves toiled from morn to
eve; heat of the great river, unstirred by any wind, hot and sleeping
beneath the blazing sun; heat of sluggish creeks and of the marshes,
shadeless as the fields. Once reach the mighty trees drawn like a
cordon around house and garden, and there was escape.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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