University of Virginia Library

3. III.
THE LEGEND OF GUERNACHE. Chap. I.

Guernache, the drummer, was one of the finest fellows,
and the handsomest of our little colony of Frenchmen. Though
sprung of very humble origin, Guernache, with a little better
education, might have been deemed to have had his training
among the highest circles of the Court. He was of tall and
erect figure, and of a carriage so noble and graceful that, even
among his associates, he continued to be an object of admiration
Besides, he was a fellow of the happiest humor. His kindness of
heart was proverbial. His merriment was contagious. His eye
flashed out in gayety, and his spirit was ever on the alert to
seize upon the passing pleasure, and subject it to the enjoyment
of his companions. Never was fellow so fortunate in finding
occasion for merriment; and happy, indeed, was the Frenchman
who could procure Guernache as a comrade in the performance
of his daily tasks. The toil was unfelt in which he shared—the
weight of the task was dissipated, and, where it wore heavily, he
came to the succor of his drooping companion, and his superior
expertness soon succeeded in doing that which his pleasantry had

failed to effect. He was the best fisherman and hunter—was as
brave as he was light-hearted—was, altogether, so perfect a
character, in the estimation of the little band of Albert, that he
found no enemy among his equals, and could always choose his
companion for himself. His successes were not confined to his
own countrymen. He found equal favor in the sight of the
Indians. Among his other accomplishments, he possessed the
most wonderful agility—had belonged, at one time, to a company
of strolling players, and his skill on tight and slack rope—if we
are to credit old stories—would put to the blush the modern
performances of the Ravels and Herr Cline. It was through his
means, and partly by his ingenuity, that the Indian hunter was
entrapped and brought into the fort,—through whose agency the
intimacy had been effected with the people of Audusta and the
other chiefs; and, during this intimacy, Guernache had proved,
in various ways, one of the principal instruments for confirming
the favorable impressions which the Indian had received in his intercourse
with the Frenchmen. He was everywhere popular with
the red men. Nothing, indeed, could be done without him.
Ignorant of his inferior social position among the whites, the
simple savages sent for him to their feasts and frolics, without
caring for the claims of any other person. He had but to carry
his violin—for, among his other accomplishments, that of fiddling
was not the smallest—to secure the smiles of the men and the
favors of the women; and it was not long before he had formed,
among the savages, a class for dancing, after the European
fashion, upon the banks of the Edisto. Think of the red men
of Apalachia, figuring under a Parisian teacher, by night, by
torch-light, beneath the great oaks of the original forest!
Such uncouth antics might well offend, with never-lessening
wonder, the courtly nymphs of the Seine and the Loire. But
the Indians suffered from no conventional apprehensions. They
were not made to feel their deficiencies under the indulgent
training of Guernache, and footed it away as merrily, as if each
of their damsels sported on a toe as light and exquisite as that of
Ellsler or Taglioni. King Audusta, himself, though well stricken
in years, was yet seduced into the capricious mazes which he
beheld with so much pleasure, and, for a season, the triumph of
Guernache among the palms and pines of Grande Riviere, was
sufficiently complete, to make him wonder at times how his
countrymen ever suffered his departure from the shores of La
Belle France!

At first, and when it was doubtful to what extent the favor of
the red-men might be secured for the colony, Captain Albert
readily countenanced the growing popularity of his fiddler among
them. His permission was frequently given to Guernache, when
king Audusta solicited his presence. His policy prompted him
to regard it as highly fortunate that so excellent an agent for his
purposes was to be found among his followers; and, for some
months, it needed only a suggestion of Guernache, himself, to
procure for him leave of absence. The worthy fellow never
abused his privileges—never was unfaithful to his trust—never
grew insolent upon indulgence. But Captain Albert, though
claiming to be the cadet of a noble house, was yet a person of a
mean and ignoble nature. Small and unimposing of person,
effeminate of habit, and accustomed to low indulgences, he was
not only deficient in the higher resources of intellect, but he was
exceedingly querulous and tyrannical of temper. His aristocratical
connexions alone had secured him the charge of the
colony, for which nature and education had equally unfitted him.

His mind was contracted and full of bitter prejudices; and,
as is the case commonly with very small persons, he was always
tenacious, to the very letter, of the nicest observances of
etiquette. After a little while, and when he no longer had reason
to question the fidelity of the red men, he began to exhibit some
share of dislike towards Guernache; and to withhold the privileges
which he had hitherto permitted him to enjoy. He had become
jealous of the degree of favor in which his musician was
held among the savages, and betrayed this change in his temper,
by instances of occasional severity and denial, the secret of which
the companions of Guernache divined much sooner than himself.
Though not prepared, absolutely, to withhold his consent, when
king Audusta entreated that the fiddler might be spared him, he
yet accorded it ungraciously; and Guernache was made to suffer,
in some way, for these concessions, as if they had been so many
favors granted to himself.

They were, indeed, favors to the musician, though, to what extent,
Albert entertained no suspicion. It so happened that among
his other conquests, Guernache had made that of a very lovely
dark-eyed damsel, a niece of Audusta, and a resident of the king's
own village. After the informal fashion of the country, into
which our Frenchmen were apt readily to fall, he had made the
damsel his wife. She was a beautiful creature, scarcely more
than sixteen; tall and slender, and so naturally agile and graceful,
that it needed but a moderate degree of instruction to make
her a dancer whose airy movements would not greatly have misbeseemed
the most courtly theatres of Paris. Monaletta,—for
such was the sweet name of the Indian damsel,—was an apt pupil,
because she was a loving one. She heartily responded to that
sentiment of wonder—common among the savages—that the

Frenchmen should place themselves under the command of a
chief, so mean of person as Albert, and so inferior in gifts, when
they had among them a fellow of such noble presence as Guernache,
whose qualities were so irresistible. The opinions of her
head were but echoes from the feelings in her heart. Her preference
for our musician was soon apparent and avowed; but, in
taking her to wife, Guernache kept his secret from his best friend.
No one in Fort Charles ever suspected that he had been wived in
the depth of the great forests, through pagan ceremonies, by an
Indian Iawa,[1] to the lovely Monaletta. Whatever may have been
his motive for keeping the secret, whether he feared the ridicule
of his comrades, or the hostility of his superior, or apprehended a
difficulty with rivals among the red men, by a discovery of the
fact, it is yet very certain that he succeeded in persuading Monaletta,
herself, and those who were present at his wild betrothal, to
keep the secret also. It did not lessen, perhaps, the pleasure of
his visits to the settlements of Audusta, that the peculiar joys
which he desired had all the relish of a stolen fruit. It was now,
only in this manner that Monaletta could be seen. Captain Albert,
with a rigid austerity, which contributed also to his evil odor
among his people, had interdicted the visits of all Indian women
at the fort. This interdict was one, however, which gave little
annoyance to Guernache. A peculiar, but not unnatural jealousy,
had already prompted him repeatedly to deny this privilege to
Monaletta. The simple savage had frequently expressed her desire
to see the fortress of the white man, to behold his foreign
curiosities, and, in particular, to hearken to the roar of that
mimic thunder which he had always at command, and which,
when heard, had so frequently shaken the very hearts of the men
of her people.

In this relation stood the several parties, when, one day, a messenger
came to Fort Charles from King Audusta, bearing a special
invitation to Captain Albert to attend, with the savage tribes, the
celebration of the great religious “feast of Toya.” He was invited
to bring as many of his men as he thought proper, but, in
particular, not to forget their favorite Guernache. The feast of
Toya, seems to have constituted the great religious ceremonial of
the nation. It took place about the middle, or the close of summer,
and seems to have been a sort of annual thanksgiving, after
the laws of a natural religion, for the maturing of their little crops.
Much of the solemnities were obvious and ostentations in their
character. Much more, however, was involved and mysterious,
and held particularly sacred by the priesthood. The occasion
was one, at all events, to which the Indians attached the greatest
importance; and, naturally anxious to acquire as great a knowledge
as possible of their laws, customs and sentiments, Captain
Albert very readily acceded to the invitation,—preparing, with
some state, to attend the rustic revels of Audusta. He took with
him a fair proportion of his little garrison, and did not omit the
inimitable Guernache. Ascending the river in his pinnace, he
soon reached the territories of the Indian monarch. Audusta,
with equal hospitality and dignity, anticipated his approach, and
met him, with his followers, at the river landing. With a hearty
welcome, he conducted him to his habitations, and gave him, at
entrance, a draught of the cassina beverage, the famous tea of the
country. Then came damsels who washed their hands in vessels
of water over which floated the leaves of the odorous bay, and

flowers of rare perfume; drying them after with branches of
plumes, scarlet and white, which were made of the feathers of
native birds of the most glorious variety of hue. Mats of reed,
woven ingeniously together by delicate wythes of all colors, orange
and green, and vermillion, dyed with roots of the forest, were then
spread upon the rush-strewn floor of the royal wigwam; and, with
a grace not unbecoming a sovereign born in the purple, Audusta
invited our Frenchmen to place themselves at case, each according
to his rank and station. The king took his place among them,
neither above the first, nor below the last, but like a friend within
a favorite circle, in which some might stand more nearly than
others to his affections. They were then attended with the profoundest
deference, and served with the rarest delicacies of the
Indian cuisine. As night came on, fresh rushes were strewed
upon the floor, and they slept with the cheerful music of songs
and laughter, which reached them at intervals, through the night,
from the merry makers in the contiguous forests. With the
dawning of the next day, preparations for the great festival were
begun.