p373-018 I. THE FIRST VOYAGE OF RIBAULT.

Introduction—The Huguenots—Their Condition in France—First Expedition for the
New World, under the auspices of the Admiral Coligny, Conducted by John Ribault—
Colony Established in Florida, and confided to the charge of Captain Albert.

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The Huguenots, in plain terms, were the Protestants of
France. They were a sect which rose very soon after the
preaching of the Reformation had passed from Germany into the
neighboring countries. In France, they first excited the apprehensions
and provoked the hostility of the Roman Catholic
priesthood, during the reign of Francis the First. This prince,
unstable as water, and governed rather by his humors and caprices
than by any fixed principles of conduct—wanting, perhaps,
equally in head and heart—showed himself, in the outset of his
career, rather friendly to the reformers. But they were soon
destined to suffer, with more decided favorites, from the caprices
of his despotism. He subsequently became one of their most
cruel persecutors. The Huguenots were not originally known by
this name. It does not appear to have been one of their own
choosing. It was the name which distinguished them in the days
of their persecution. Though frequently the subject of

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conjecture, its origin is very doubtful. Montlue, the Marshal, whose
position at the time, and whose interests in the subject of religion
were such as might have enabled him to know quite as well as
any other person, confesses that the source and meaning of the
appellation were unknown. It is suggested that the name was
taken from the tower of one Hugon, or Hugo, at Tours, where
the Protestants were in the habit of assembling secretly for
worship. This, by many, is assumed to be the true origin of
the word. But there are numerous etymologies besides, from
which the reader may make his selection,—all more or less
plausibly contended for by the commentators. The commencement
of a petition to the Cardinal Lorraine—“Huc nos venimus,
serenissime princeps, &c.,” furnishes a suggestion to one set of
writers. Another finds in the words “Heus quenaus,” which, in
the Swiss patois, signify “seditious fellows,” conclusive evidence
of the thing for which he seeks. Heghenen or Huguenen, a
Flemish word, which means Puritans, or Cathari, is reasonably
urged by Caseneuve, as the true authority; while Verdier tells us
that they were so called from their being the apes or followers of
John Hus—“les guenons de Hus;”—guenon being a young ape.
This is ingenious enough without being complimentary. The
etymology most generally received, according to Mr. Browning,
(History of the Huguenots,) is that which ascribes the origin of
the name to “the word Eignot, derived from the German
Eidegenossen, q. e. federati. A party thus designated existed at
Geneva; and it is highly probable that the French Protestants
would adopt a term so applicable to themselves.” There are,
however, sundry other etymologies, all of which seem equally
plausible; but these will suffice, at least, to increase the difficulties
of conjecture. Either will answer, since the name by which the

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child is christened is never expected to foreshadow his future
character, or determine his career. The name of the Huguenots
was probably bestowed by the enemies of the sect. It is in all
likelihood a term of opprobrium or contempt. It will not materially
concern us, in the scheme of the present performance, that we
should reach any definite conclusion on this point. Their
European history must be read in other volumes. Ours is but
the American episode in their sad and protracted struggle with
their foes and fortune. Unhappily, for present inquiry, this
portion of their history attracted but too little the attention of
the parent country. We are told of colonies in America, and of
their disastrous termination, but the details are meagre, touched
by the chronicler with a slight and careless hand; and, but for
the striking outline of the narrative,—the leading and prominent
events which compelled record,—it is one that we should pass
without comment, and with no awakening curiosity. But the few
terrible particulars which remain to us in the ancient summary, are
of a kind to reward inquiry, and command the most active sympathies;
and the melancholy outline of the Huguenots' progress,
in the New World, exhibits features of trial, strength and
suffering, which render their career equally unique in both countries;—
a dark and bloody history, involving details of strife, of
enterprise, and sorrow, which denied them the securities of home
in the parent land, and even the most miserable refuge from
persecution in the wildernesses of a savage empire. Their
European fortunes are amply developed in all the European
chronicles. Our narrative relates wholly to those portions of their
history which belong to America.

It is not so generally known that the colonies of the Huguenots,
in the new world, were almost coeval with those of the

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Spaniards. They anticipated them in the northern portions of
the continent. These settlements were projected by the active
genius of the justly-celebrated French admiral, Gaspard de Coligny,
one of the great leaders of the Huguenots in France. His
persevering energies, impelled by his sagacious forethought, effected
a beginning in the work of foreign colonization, which, unhappily
for himself and party, he was not permitted to prosecute,
with the proper vigor, to successful completion. His sagacity
led him to apprehend, from an early experience of the character
of the Queen-mother, in the bigoted and brutal reign of Charles
the Ninth, that there would, in little time, be no safety in France
for the dissenters from the established religion. The feebleness
of the youthful Prince, the jealous and malignant character of
Catharine—her utter faithlessness, and the hatred which she felt
for the Protestants, which no pact could bind, and no concession
mollify,—to say nothing of the controlling will of Pius the Fifth,
who had ascended the Papal throne, sworn to the extermination
of all heresies,—all combined to assure the Protestants of the
dangers by which their cause was threatened. The danger was
one of life as well as religion. It was in the destruction of the
one, that the enemies of the Huguenots contemplated the overthrow
of the other. Coligny was not the man to be deceived by
the hollow compromises, the delusive promises, the false truces,
which were all employed in turn to beguile him and his associates
into confidence, and persuade them into the most treacherous
snares. He combined a fair proportion of the cunning of the
serpent with the dove's purity, and, maintaining strict watch
upon his enemies, succeeded, for a long period, in eluding the
artifices by which he was overcome at last. Availing himself of
the influence of his position, and of a brief respite from that open

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war which preceded the famous Edict of January, 1562, by which
the Huguenots were admitted, with some restrictions, to the exeercise
of their religion, Coligny addressed himself to the task of
establishing a colony of Protestants in America. He readily
divined the future importance, to his sect, of such a place of
refuge. The moment was favorable to his objects. The policy
of the Queen-mother was not yet sufficiently matured, to render
it proper that she should oppose herself to his desires. Perhaps,
she also conceived the plan a good one, which should relieve the
country of a race whom she equally loathed and dreaded.[1] It is
possible that she did not fully conjecture the ultimate calculations
of the admiral. The king, himself, was a minor, entirely in her
hands, who could add nothing to her counsels, or, for the present,
interfere with her authority; and, without seeking farther to inquire
by what motives she was governed in according to Coligny
the permission which he sought, it is enough that he obtained the
necessary sanction. Of this he readily availed himself. It was not,
by the way, his first attempt at colonization. Having in view the
same objects by which he was governed in the present instance,
he had, in 1555, sent out an expedition to Brazil under Villegagnon.
This enterprise had failed through the perfidy of that commander.
Its failure did not discourage the admiral. Though
the full character of Catharine had not developed itself, in all its
cruel and heartless characteristics, it was yet justly understood by

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him, and he never suffered himself to forget how necessary to the
sect which he represented was the desired haven of security which
he sought, in a region beyond her influence.

From Brazil he turned his eyes on Florida. This terra incognita,
at the period of which we speak, was El Dorado to the
European imagination. It was the New Empire, richer than
Peru or Mexico, in which adventurers as daring as Cortes and
Pizarro were to compass realms of as great magnificence and
wealth. Already had the Spaniard traversed it with his iron-clad
warriors, seeking vainly, and through numberless perils, for the
treasure which he worshipped. Still other treasures had won the
imagination of one of their noblest knights; and in exploring the
wild realm of the Floridian for the magical fountain which was to
restore youth to the heart of age, and a fresh bloom to its withered
aspect, Ponce de Leon pursued one of the loveliest phantoms
that ever deluded the fancy or the heart of man. To him had
succeeded others; all seeking, in turn, the realization of those
unfruitful visions which, like wandering lights of the swamp forest,
only glitter to betray. Vasquez d'Ayllon, John Verazzani, Pamphilo
de Narvaez, and the more brilliant cavalier than all, Hernando
de Soto, had each penetrated this land of hopes and fancies,
to deplore in turn its disappointments and delusions. With the
wildest desires in their hearts, they had disdained the merely possible
within their reach. They had sought for possessions such
as few empires have been known to yield; and had failed to see, or
had beheld with scorn, the simple treasures of fruit and flower which
the country promised and proffered in abundance. This vast region,
claimed equally by Spain, France, and England, still lay
derelict. “Death,” as one of our own writers very happily remarks,
“seemed to guard the avenues of the country.” None

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of the great realms which claimed it as their domain, regarded it
in any light but as a territory which they might ravage. Yet,
well might its delicious climate, the beauty of its groves and
forests, the sweets of its flowers, which beguiled the senses of the
ocean pilgrim a score of leagues from land—to say nothing of the
supposed wealth of its mountains, and of the great cities hid
among their far recesses—have persuaded the enterprise, and implored
the prows of enterprise and adventure. To these attractions
the previous adventurers had not wholly shown themselves insensible.
Ponce de Leon, enraptured with its rich and exquisite
vegetation, as seen in the spring season of the year, first conferred
upon it the name of beauty, which it bears. Nor, had he not been
distracted by baser objects, would he have failed utterly to discover
the salubrious fountains which he sought. Here were met
natives, who, quaffing at medicinal streams by which the country
was everywhere watered, grew to years which almost rival those
of the antediluvian fathers. Verazzani, the Florentine, unfolds a
golden chronicle of the innocence and delight which distinguished
the simple people by whom the territory was possessed, and whose
character was derived from the gentle influences of their climate,
and the exquisite delicacy, beauty, and variety of the productions
of the soil. He, too, had visited the country in the season of
spring, when all things in nature look lovely to the eye. But
such verdure as blessed his vision on this occasion, constituted a
new era in his life, and seemed to lift him to the crowning achievement
of all his enterprises. The region, as far his eye could reach,
was covered with “faire fields and plaines,” “full of mightie
great woodes,” “replenished with divers sort of trees, as pleasant
and delectable to behold as is possible to imagine;—“Not,” says
the voyager, “like the woodes of Hercynia or the wilde deserts

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of Tartary, and the northerne coasts full of fruitlesse trees,” but
trees of sortes unknowen in Europe, which yeeld most sweete savours
farre from the shoare.” Nor did these constitute the only
attractions. The appearance of the forests and the land “argued
drugs and spicery,” “and other riches of golde.”

The woods were “full of many beastes, as stags, deere and
hares, and likewise of lakes and pooles of fresh water, with great
plentie of fowles, convenient for all kinde of pleasant game.”
The air was “goode and wholesome, temperate between hot and
colde;” “no vehement windes doe blowe in these regions, and
those that do commonly reigne are the southwest and west windes
in the summer season;” “the skye cleare and faire, with very
little raine; and if, at any time, the ayre be cloudie and mistie
with the southerne winde, immediately it is dissolved and waxeth
cleare and faire againe. The sea is calme, not boisterous, and
the waves gentle.” And the people were like their climate.
The nature which yielded to their wants, without exacting the
toil of ever-straining sinews, left them unembittered by necessities
which take the heart from youth, and the spirit from play and
exercise. No carking cares interfered with their humanity to
check hospitality in its first impulse, and teach avarice to withhold
the voluntary tribute which the natural virtues would prompt,
in obedience to a selfishness that finds its justification in serious
toils which know no remission, and a forethought that is never
permitted to forget the necessities of the coming day. Verazzani
found the people as mild and grateful as their climate. They
crowded to the shore as the stranger ships drew nigh, “making
divers synes of friendship.” They showed themselves “very
courteous and gentle,” and, in a single incident, won the hearts
of the Europeans, who seldom, at that period, in their intercourse

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with the natives, were known to exhibit an instance so beautiful,
of a humanity so Christian. A young sailor, attempting to swim
on shore, had overrated his strength. Cast among the breakers,
he was in danger of being drowned. This, when the Indians
saw, they dashed into the surf, and dragged the fair-skinned
voyager to land. Here, when he recovered from his stupor, he
exhibited signs of the greatest apprehension, finding himself in
the hands of the savages. But his lamentations, which were
piteously loud, only provoked theirs. Their tears flowed at his
weeping. In this way they strove to “cheere him, and to give
him courage.” Nor were they neglectful of other means.
“They set him on the ground, at the foot of a little hill against
the sunne, and began to behold him with great admiration,
marveiling at the whitenesse of his fleshe;” “Putting off his
clothes, they made him warme at a great fire, not without one
great feare, by what remayned in the boate, that they would
have rosted him at that fire and have eaten him.” But the
fear was idle. When they had warmed and revived the stranger,
they reclothed him, and as he showed an anxiety to return to the
ship, “they, with great love, clapping him fast about with many
embracings,” accompanied him to the shore, where they left him,
retiring to a distance, whence they could witness his departure
without awakening the apprehensions of his comrades. These
people were of “middle stature, handsome visage and delicate
limmes; of very little strength, but of prompt wit.”

We need not pursue the details of these earlier historians.
They suffice to direct attention to Florida, and to persuade adventure
with fanciful ideas of its charming superiority over all unknown
regions. But the adventurers, until Coligny's enterprise was
conceived, meditated the invasion of the country, and the

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gathering of its hidden treasures, rather than the establishment
of any European settlements in its glorious retreats. It was not
till the eighteenth day of February, in the Year of Grace, one
thousand five hundred and sixty-two, that the plan of the Admiral
of France was sufficiently matured for execution. On that day
he despatched two vessels from France, well manned and
furnished, under the command of one John Ribault,[2] for the
express purpose of making the first permanent European establishment
in these regions of romance. The narrative of this
enterprise is chiefly drawn from the writings of Rene Laudonniere,
who himself went out as a lieutenant in the expedition. Laudonniere,
in his narrative of their progress, says nothing of the secret
objects of Coligny, of which he probably knew nothing. He
ascribes to the King—the Queen-mother, rather—a nobler policy
than either of them ever entertained. “My Lord of Chastillon,”
(Coligny) thus he writes,—“A nobleman more desirous of the
publique than of his private benefits, understanding the pleasure
of the King, his Prince, which was to discover new and strange
countries, caused vessels for this purpose to be made ready with
all diligence, and men to be levied meet for such an enterprise.”

This is merely courtly language, wholly conventional, and which,
spoken of Charles the Ninth,—a boy not yet in his teens—savors
rather of the ridiculous. There is no question that the expedition
originated wholly with Coligny; as little is it questionable, though
Laudonniere says nothing on this subject, that it was designed in
consequence of that policy which showed him the ever present

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danger of the Huguenots. It does not militate against this policy
that he made use of a pretext which was suggested by the passion
for maritime discovery common in those days. By the assertion
of this pretext, he was the more easily enabled to persuade the
Queen-mother to a measure upon which she otherwise would never
have suffered the ships of the Huguenots to weigh anchor.

But this question need not detain us. Laudonniere speaks of
the armament as ample for the purpose for which it was designed—
“so well furnished with gentlemen and with oulde souldiers
that he (Ribault) had meanes to achieve some notable thing,
and worthie of eternall memorie.” This was an exaggeration,
something Spanish in its tenor,—one of those flourishes of rhetoric
among the voyagers of that day, which had already grown to
be a sound without much signification. The vessels were small,
as was the compliment of men dispatched. The objects of the
expedition were limited, did not contemplate exploration but
settlement, and, consequently, were not likely to find opportunity
for great enterprises. The voyage occupied two months; the
route pursued carefully avoided that usually taken by the Spaniards,
whom already our adventurers had cause to fear. At the
end of this period, land was made in the latitude of St. Augustine,
to the cape of which they gave the name of St. François. From
this point, coasting northwardly, they discovered “a very faire
and great river”—the San Matheo of the Spaniards, now the St.
John's, to which Ribault, as he discovered it on the first of May,
gave the name of that month. This river he penetrated in his
boats. He was met on the shore by many of the natives, men
and women. These received him with gentleness and peace.
Their chief man made an oration, and honored Ribault, at the
close, with a present of “chamois skinnes.” On the ensuing day,

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he “caused a pillar of hard stone to be planted within the sayde
river, and not farre from the mouth of the same, upon a little
sandie knappe,” on which the arms of France were engraved.
Crossing to the opposite shores of this river, a religious service
was performed in the presence of the Indians. There the red-men,
perhaps for the first time, beheld the pure and simple rites
of the genuine Christian. Prayers were said, and thanks given to
the Deity, “for that, of his grace, hee had conducted the French
nation into these strange places.” This service being ended, the
Indians conducted the strangers into the presence of their king,[3]
who received them in a sitting posture, upon a couch made of
bay leaves and palmetto. Speeches were made between the parties
which were understood by neither. But their tenor was
amicable, the savage chieftain giving to Ribault, at parting, a
basket wrought very ingeniously of palm leaves, “and a great
skinne painted and drawen throughout with the pictures of divers
wilde beastes; so livly drawen and portrayed that nothing lacked
life.” Fish were taken for the Frenchmen by the hospitable
natives, in weirs made of reeds, fashioned like a maze or labyrinth—
“troutes, great mullets, plaise, turbots, and marvellous
store of other sorts of fishes altogether different from ours.”
Another chief upon this river received them with like favors.
Two of the sons of this chief are represented as “exceeding faire
and strong.” They were followed by troops of the natives, “having
their bowes and arrowes, in marveilous good order.”

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From this river, still pursuing a northwardly course, Ribault
came to another which he explored and named the Seine, (now
the St. Mary's,) because it appeared to resemble the river of that
name in France.[4] We pass over the minor details in this progress—
how he communed with the natives—who, everywhere
seemed to have entertained our Huguenots with equal grace and
gentleness, and who are described as a goodly people, of lively
wit and great stature. Ribault continued to plant columns, and
to take possession of the country after the usual forms, conferring
names upon its several streams, which he borrowed for the purpose
from similar well-known rivers in France. Thus, for a time,
the St. Mary's became the Seine; the Satilla, the Somme; the
Altamaha, the Loire; the Ogechee, the Garonne; and the Savannah,
the Gironde. The river to which his prows were
especially directed, was that to which the name of Jordan had
been given by Vasquez de Ayllon, some forty years before. This
is our present Combahee. In sailing north, in this search, other
smaller rivers were discovered, one of which was called the Bellea-veoir.
Separated by a furious tempest from his pinnaces, which
had been kept in advance for the purpose of penetrating and exploring
these streams, Ribault, with his ships, was compelled to
stand out to sea. When he regained the coast and his pinnaces,
he was advised of a “mightie river,” in which they had found
safe harborage from the tempest, a river which, “in beautie
and bignesse” exceeded all the former. Delighted with this discovery,
our Huguenots made sail to reach this noble stream.

The object of Ribault had been some safe and pleasant
harborage, in which his people could refresh themselves for a

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season. His desires were soon gratified. He cast anchor at the
mouth of a mighty river, to which, “because of the fairnesse
and largenesse thereoff,” he gave the name of Port Royale, the
name which it still bears. The depth of this river is such, that,
according to Laudonniere, “when the sea beginneth to flowe, the
greatest shippes of France, yea, the argosies of Venice, may
enter there.” Ribault, at the head of his soldiers, was the first to
land. Grateful, indeed, to the eye and fancy of our Frenchmen,
was the scene around them. They had already passed through a
fairy-like region, of islet upon islet, reposing upon the deep,—
crowned with green forests, and arresting, as it were, the wild
assaults of ocean upon the shores of which they appeared to keep
watch and guard. And, passing between these islets and the
main, over stillest waters, with a luxuriant shrubbery on either
hand, and vines and flowers of starred luxuriance trailing about
them to the very lips of this ocean, they had arrived at an imperial
growth of forest. The mighty shafts that rose around
them, heavy with giant limbs, and massed in their luxuriant
wealth of leaves, particularly impressed the minds of our
voyagers—“mightye high oakes and infinite store of cedars,”
and pines fitted for the masts of “such great ammirals” as had
never yet floated in the European seas. Their senses were assailed
with fresh and novel delights at every footstep. The superb
magnolia, with its great and snow-white chalices; the flowering
dogwood with its myriad blossoms, thick and richly gleaming as
the starry host of heaven; the wandering jessamine, whose
yellow trophies, mingling with grey mosses of the oak, stooped to
the upward struggling billows of the deep, giving out odor at
every rise and fall of the ambitious wavelet,—these, by their
unwonted treasures of scent and beauty, compelled the silent but

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profound admiration of the strangers. “Exceeding pleasant”
did the “very fragrant odour” make the place; while other
novelties interposed to complete the fascinations of a spot, the
peculiarities of which were equally fresh and delightful. Their
farther acquaintance with the country only served to increase its
attractions. As they wandered through the woods, they “saw
nothing but turkey cocks flying in the forests, partridges, gray and
red, little different from ours, but chiefly in bignesse;”—“we
heard also within the woods the voices of stagges, of beares, of
hyenas, of leopards, and divers other sorts of beasts unknown
to us. Being delighted with this place, we set ourselves to fishing
with nets, and caught such a number of fish that it was wonderful.”

The same region is still renowned for its fish and game, for
the monsters as well as the multitudes of the deep, and for the
deer of its spacious swamps and forests, which still exercise the
skill and enterprise of the angler and the hunter. This is the
peculiar region also, of the “Devil fish,” the “Vampire of the
Ocean,” described by naturalists as of the genus Ray, species
Dio-don, a leviathan of the deep, whose monstrous antennæare
thrown about the skiff of the fisherman with an embrace as
perilous as that wanton sweep of his mighty extremities with which
the whale flings abroad the crowding boats of his hardy captors.
Sea and land, in this lovely neighborhood, still gleam freshly and
wondrously upon the eye of the visitor as in the days of our
Huguenot adventurers; and still do its forests, in spite of the
cordon which civilization and society have everywhere drawn
around them, harbor colonies of the bear which occasionally cross
the path of the sportsman, and add to his various trophies of the
chase.

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With impressions of the scene and region such as realized to
our Frenchmen the summer glories of an Arabian tale, it was
easy to determine where to plant their colony. Modern conjecture,
however, is still unsatisfied as to the site which was probably
chosen by our voyagers. The language of Laudonniere is sufficiently
vague and general to make the matter doubtful; and, unhappily,
there are no remains which might tend to lessen the
obscurity of the subject. The vessels had cast anchor at the
mouth of Port Royal River. The pilots subsequently counselled
that they should penetrate the stream, so as to secure a
sheltered roadstead. They ascended the river accordingly, some
three leagues from its mouth, when Ribault proceeded to make a
closer examination of the country. The Port Royal “is divided
into two great armes, whereof the one runneth toward the west,
the other toward the north.” Our Huguenot captain chose the
western avenue, which he ascended in his pinnace. For more than
twelve leagues he continued this progress, until he “found another
arme of the river which ranne towards the east, up which the
captain determined to sail and leave the greate current.”

The red men whom they encounter on this progress are at first
shy of the strangers and take flight at their approach, but they
are soon encouraged by the gentleness and forbearance of the
Frenchmen, who persuade them finally to confidence. An amiable
understanding soon reconciles the parties, and the Floridian
at length brings forward his gifts of maize, his palm baskets with
fruits and flowers, his rudely-dressed skins of bear and beaver, and
these are pledges of his amity which he does not violate. He, in
turn, persuades the voyagers to draw near to the shore and finally
to land. They are soon surrounded by the delighted and simple
natives, whose gifts are multiplied duly in degree with the

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pleasure which they fell. Skins of the chamois—deer rather—and
baskets of pearls, are offered to the chief among the whites, whom
they proceed to entertain with shows of still greater courtesy. A
bower of forest leaves and shrubs is soon built to shelter them
“from the parching heate of the sunne,” and our Frenchmen lingered
long enough among this artless and hospitable people to
get tidings of a “greate Indian Lorde which had pearles in great
abundance and silver also, all of which should be given them at
the king's arrival.” They invited the strangers to their dwellings—
proffering to show them a thousand pleasures in shooting, and
seeing the death of the stag.

Our Huguenots, excellent Christians though they were, were
by no means insensible to the tidings of pearl and gold. These
glimpses of treasures, already familiar to their imaginations,
greatly increase, in their sight, the natural beauties of the country.
The narratives of the red men, imperfectly understood, and
construed by the desires of the strangers, rather than their minds,
were full of marvels of neighboring lands and nations,—great empires
of wealth and strength,—cities in romantic solitudes,—high
places among almost inaccessible mountains, in which the treasures
are equally precious and abundant. Listening to such
legends, our Frenchmen linger with the red men, until the approach
of night counsels them to seek the security of their ships.

But, with the dawning of the following day the explorations
were resumed. Before leaving his vessel, however, Ribault provides
himself with “a pillar of hard stone, fashioned like a column,
whereon the armes of France were graven,” with the purpose of
planting “the same in the fairest place that he coulde finde.”
“This done, we embarked ourselves, and sayled three leagues
towards the west; where we discovered a little river, up which

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wee sayled so long, that, in the ende, wee found it returned into
the great current, and in his return, to make a little island separated
from the firme lande, where wee went on shore, and by
commandment of the captain, because it was exceeding faire
and pleasant, there we planted the pillar upon a hillock open
round about to the view and environed with a lake halfe a fathom
deepe, of very good and sweete water.”

We are particular in these details, in the hope that future
explorers may be thus assisted in the work of identifying the
places marked by our Huguenots. Everything which they see in
the new world which surrounds them, is imposing to the eye and
grateful to the sense. They wander among avenues of gigantic
pines that remind them of the mighty colonnades in the great
cathedrals of the old world. They are at once exhilarated by a
sense of unwonted freshness and beauty in what they behold, and
by aspects of grandeur and vastness which solemnize all their
thoughts and fancies. With these feelings, when, in their wanderings,
they arouse from the shady covers where they browsed “two
stagges of exceeding bignesse, in respect of those which they had
scene before,” their captain forbids that they should shoot them,
though they might easily have done so. The anecdote speaks
well for Ribault's humanity. It was not wholly because he was
“moved with the singular fairenesse and bignesse of them,” as
Laudonniere imagines, but because his soul was lifted with religious
sentiment—filled with worship at that wondrous temple of
nature in which the great Jehovah seemed visibly present, in love
and mercy, as in the first sweet days of the creation.

To the little river which surrounded the islet, on which the
pillar was raised, they gave the name of “Liborne.” The island
itself is supposed to be that which is now called Lemon Island.

[figure description] Page 019.[end figure description]

The matter is one which still admits of doubt, though scarcely
beyond the reach of certainty, in a close examination from the
guide posts which we still possess. It is a question which may
well provoke the diligence of the local antiquary. “Another isle,
not far distant from” that of the pillar, next claimed the attention
of the voyagers. Here they “found nothing but tall cedars, the
fairest that were seene in this country. For this cause wee called
it the Isle of Cedars.”

This ended their exploration for the day. A few days were
consumed in farther researches, without leading to any new discoveries.
In the meantime, Ribault prepared to execute the
commands of his sovereign, in the performance of one of the tasks
which civilization but too frequently sanctions at the expense of
humanity. He was commanded by the Queen-mother to capture
and carry home to France a couple of the natives. These, as we
have seen, were a mild race, maintaining among themselves a
gentle intercourse, and exercising towards strangers a grateful
hospitality. It was with a doubtful propriety that our Frenchman
determined to separate any of them from their homes and people.
But it was not for Ribault to question the decrees of that sovereign
whom it was the policy of the Huguenots, at present, to
conciliate. Having selected a special and sufficient complement
of soldiers, he determined “to returne once againe toward the Indians
which inhabiteth that arme of the river which runneth toward
the West.” The pinnace was prepared for this purpose. The
object of the voyage was successful. The Indians were again found
where they had been at first encountered. The Frenchmen were
received with hospitality. Ribault made his desires known to the
king or chief of the tribe, who graciously gave his permission.
Two of the Indians, who fancied that they were more favored than

[figure description] Page 020.[end figure description]

the rest of their brethren, by the choice of the Frenchmen, yielded
very readily to the entreaties which beguiled them on board one of
the vessels. They probably misunderstood the tenor of the application;
or, in their savage simplicity, concluded that a voyage to
the land of the pale-faces was only some such brief journey as they
were wont to make, in their cypress canoes, from shore to shore
along their rivers—or possibly as far down as the great frith in
which their streams were lost. But it was not long before our
savage voyagers were satisfied with the experiment. They soon
ceased to be pleased or flattered with the novelty of their situation.
The very attentions bestowed upon them only provoked their apprehensions.
The cruise wearied them; and, when they found
that the vessels continued to keep away from the land, they became
seriously uneasy. Born swimmers, they had no fear about
making the shore when once in the water: and it required the
utmost vigilance of the Frenchmen to keep them from darting
overboard. It was in vain, for a long time, that they strove to
appease and to soothe the unhappy captives. Their detention,
against their desires, now made them indignant. Gifts were
pressed upon them, such as they were known to crave and to esteem
above all other possessions. But these they rejected with
scorn. They would receive nothing in exchange for their liberty.
The simple language in which the old chronicler describes the
scene and their sorrows, has in it much that is highly touching,
because of its very simplicity. They felt their captivity, and were
not to be beguiled from this humiliating conviction by any trappings
or soothings. Their freedom—the privilege of eager movements
through billow and forest—sporting as wantonly as bird and
fish in both—was too precious for any compensation. They sank
down upon the deck, with clasped hands, sitting together apart

[figure description] Page 021.[end figure description]

from the crew, gazing upon the shores with mournful eyes, and
chaunting a melancholy ditty, which seemed to the watchful and
listening Frenchmen a strain of exile and lamentation—“agreeing
so sweetly together, that, in hearing their song, it seemed that they
lamented the absence of their friendes.” And thus they continued
all night to sing without ceasing.

The pinnace, meanwhile, lay at anchor, the tide being against
them; with the dawn of day the voyage was resumed, and the
ships were reached in safety where they lay in the roadstead.
Transferred to these, the two captives continued to deplore their
fate. Every effort was made to reconcile them to their situation,
and nothing was withheld which experience had shown to be
especially grateful to the savage fancy. But they rejected everything;
even the food which had now become necessary to their
condition. They held out till nearly sunset, in their rejection of
the courtesies, which, with a show of kindness, deprived them of
the most precious enjoyment and passion of their lives. But the
inferior nature at length insisted upon its rights. “In the end
they were constrained to forget their superstitions,” and to eat
the meat which was set before them. They even received the
gifts which they had formerly rejected; and, as if reconciled to a
condition from which they found it impossible to escape, they put
on a more cheerful countenance. “They became, therefore,
more jocunde; every houre made us a thousand discourses, being
marveillous sorry that we could not understand them.” Laudonniere
set himself to work to acquire their language. He strove
still more to conciliate their favor; engaged them in frequent conversation;
and, by showing them the objects for which he sought
their names, picked up numerous words which he carefully put on
paper. In a few days he was enabled to make himself understood

[figure description] Page 022.[end figure description]

by them, in ordinary matters, and to comprehend much that they
said to him. They flattered him in turn. They told him of
their feats and sports, and what pleasures they could give him in
the chase. They would take food from no hands but his; and
succeeded in blinding the vigilance of the Frenchmen. They
were not more reconciled to their prison-bonds than before.
They had simply changed their policy; and, when, after several
days detention, they had succeeded in lulling to sleep the suspicions
of their captors, they stole away at midnight from the
ship, leaving behind them all the gifts which had been forced upon
them, as if, to have retained them, would have established, in the
pale-faces, a right to their liberties—thus showing, according to
Laudonniere, “that they were not void of reason.”

Ribault was not dissatisfied with this result of his endeavor to
comply with the commands of the Queen-mother. His sense of
justice probably revolted at the proceeding; and the escape of
the Indians, who would report only the kindness of their treatment,
would, in all likelihood, have an effect favorable to his main
enterprise,—the establishment of a colony. This design he now
broached to his people in an elaborate speech. He enlarged upon
the importance of the object, drawing numerous examples from
ancient and modern history, in favor of those virtues in the individual
which such enterprise must develope. There is but one
passage in this speech which deserves our special attention. It
is that in which he speaks to his followers of their inferior birth
and condition. He speaks to them as “known neither to the
king nor to the princes of the realme, and, besides, descending
from so poore a stock, that few or none of your parents, having
ever made profession of armes, have beene knowne unto the great
estates.” This is in seeming conflict with what Laudonniere has

[figure description] Page 023.[end figure description]

already told us touching the character and condition in society of
the persons employed in the expedition. He has been careful to
say, at the opening of the narrative, that the two ships were “well
furnished with gentlemen (of whose number I was one) and old
soldiers.”[5] The apparent contradiction may be reconciled by a
reference to the distinction, which, until a late period, was made
in France, between the noblesse and mere gentlemen. The word
gentleman had no such signification, in France, at that period, as
it bears to-day. To apply it to a nobleman, indeed, would have
been, at one time, to have given a mortal affront, and a curious
anecdote is on record, to this effect in the case of the Princess de
la Roche Sur Yon, who, using the epithet “gentilhomme” to a
nobleman, was insulted by him; and, on demanding redress of
the monarch, was told that she deserved the indignity, having
been guilty of the first offence.

But Ribault's speech suggested to his followers that their inferior
condition made nothing against their heroism. He, himself,
though a soldier by profession, from his tenderest years, had never
yet been able to compass the favor of the nobility. Yet he had
applied himself with all industry, and hazarded his life in many
dangers. It was his misfortune that “more regard is had to birth
than virtue.” But this need not discourage them, as it has never
discouraged him from the performance of his duties. The great
examples of history are in his eyes, and should be in theirs.

[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]

“Howe much then ought so many worthy examples move you to
plant here? Considering, also, that hereby you shall be registered
forever as the first that inhabited this strange country. I
pray you, therefore, all to advise yourselves thereof, and to declare
your mindes freely unto me, protesting that I will so well
imprint your names in the King's eares, and the other princes,
that your renowne shall hereafter shine unquenchable through our
realm of France.”

Ribault was evidently not insensible to fame. Had his thoughts
been those of his sovereign, also, how different would have been
the history! His soldiers responded in the proper spirit, and declared
their readiness to establish a colony in the wild empire, the
grandeur and beauty of which had already commended it to their
affections. Delighted with the readiness and enthusiasm of his
men, he weighed anchor the very next day, in order to seek out
the place most fit and convenient for his settlement. “Having
sayled up the great river on the north side, in coasting an isle
which ended with a sharpe point toward the mouth of the river;—
having sailed awhile he discovered a small river which entered
into the islande, which hee would not faile to search out, which
done, he found the same deep enough to harbour therein gallies
and galliots in good number. Proceeding farther, he found an
open place joyning upon the brinke thereof, where he went on land,
and seeing the place fit to build a fortresse in, and commodious
for them that were willing to plant there, he resolved incontinently
to cause the bignesse of the fortification to be measured
out.” The colony was to be a small one. Twenty-six persons
had volunteered to establish it; as many, perhaps, as had been
called for. The dimensions of the fort were small accordingly.
They were taken by Laudonniere, and one Captain Salles, under

[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]

Ribault's directions. The fort was at once begun. Its length
was sixteen fathoms, its breadth thirteen, “with flanks according
to the proportion thereof.” Then, for the first time, the
European axe was laid to the great shafts of the forest trees of
America, waking sounds, at every stroke, whose echoes have been
heard for three hundred years, sounding, and destined to resound,
from the Atlantic to the Pacific seas; leaving no waste of wood
and wild, unawakened by this first music of civilization.

The site thus chosen by Ribault for his colony, though no
traces have been left of the labor of his hands, is scarcely
doubtful to the present possessors of the country. All the proofs
concur in placing Fort Charles somewhere between North Edisto
and Broad River, and circumstances determine this situation to
be that of the beautiful little town of Beaufort, in South Carolina.
The Grande Riviere of the French is our Broad River.[6] It was
at the mouth of this river, in an island with a safe and commodious
port, that the fort was established; and of the numerous
islands which rise everywhere along the coast in this region, as a
fortress to defend the verdant shores from the assaults of ocean,
there is none which answers so well as this all the requisitions of
this description. Besides, it is actually in the very latitude of
the site, as given by Laudonniere; and the tradition of the
Indians, as preserved by our own people, seems to confirm and to
conclude the conjectures on this subject. They state that the
first place in which they saw the pale faces of the Europeans

[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]

was at Coosawhatchie, in South Carolina. Now, the Coosawhatchie
is the principal stream that forms the Grande Riviere of the
Frenchmen; and was, questionless, the first of the streams that
was penetrated by the pinnace of Ribault. It is highly probable
that it bore the name of Coosawhatchie through its entire course,
until it emptied itself into the ocean. The testimony of the
Indians, based simply upon their tradition, is of quite as much
value as that of any other people. It is well known with what
tenacity they preserve the recollection of important events, and
with what singular adherence to general truthfulness. The island
upon which Beaufort now stands was most probably that which
yielded the first American asylum to the Huguenots of France!

Our Frenchmen travailed so diligently that, in a short space,
the fortress was in some sort prepared for the colonists. It was
soon in a defensible condition. “Victuals and warlike munition”
were transferred from the shipping to the shore, and the garrison
were furnished with all things necessary for the maintenance of
their fortress and themselves. The fort was christened by the
name of Charles, the King of France; while the small river upon
which it was built received the name of Chenonceau. All things
being provided, the colonists marched into their little and lovely
place of refuge. They were confided to the charge of one
Captain Albert, to whom, and to whose followers, Ribault made
a speech at parting. His injunctions were of a parental and
salutary character. He exhorted their Captain to justice,
firmness and moderation in his rule, and his people to obedience;
promising to return with supplies from France, and reinforcements
before their present resources should fail them. But these
exhortations do not seem to have been much regarded by either
party. It will be for us, in future chapters, to pursue their

[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]

fortunes, and to pluck, if possible, from the unwritten history,
the detailed events of their melancholy destiny. Sad enough
will it have been, even if no positive evil shall befall them,—
that severance from their ancient comrades—that separation
from the old homes of their fathers in La Belle France—that
lonesome abode, on the verge of “ocean's gray and melancholy
waste,” on the one hand, and the dense, dark, repelling forests
of Apalachia on the other;—doubtful of all they see,—in spite of
all that is fresh and charming in their sight;—apprehensive of
every sound that reaches them from the wilderness,—and filled
with no better hope than that which springs up in the human
bosom when assured that all hope is cut off—that one hope
excepted, which is born of necessity, and which blossoms amid the
nettles of despair. The isolation was the more oppressive and
likely to be grievous, as we have reason to doubt that, though
founding a colony for the refuge of a religious and persecuted
people, they brought any becoming sense of religion with them.
Our progress thus far with the adventurers has shown us but few
proofs of the presence among them of any feelings of devotion.
Ribault himself was but a soldier, and his ambition was of an
earthly complexion. Had they been elevated duly by religion,
they would have been counselled and strengthened in the solitude
by God. Unhappily, they were men only, rude, untaught, and
full of selfish passions,—badly ruled and often ill-treated, and
probably giving frequent provocation to the pride and passions of
those who had them under rule. But they began their career in
the New World with sufficient cheerfulness. Its climate was
delicious, like that of their own country. Its woods and forests
were of a majesty and splendor beyond any of which their wildest
fancies had ever dreamed; and the security which the remoteness

[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

of the region promised them, and the novelty which invested
every object in their eyes made the parting from their comrades
a tolerably easy one. They heard with lively spirits the farewell
shouts of their companions, and answered them with cheers of
confidence and pride. The simple paragraph which records the
leave-taking of the parties, is at once pleasing and full of pathos.
“Having ended his (Ribault's) exhortations, we took our leaves
of each of them, and sayled toward our shippes. We hoysed our
sayles about ten of the clocke in the morning. After wee were
ready to depart, Captain Ribault commanded to shoote off our
ordnance, to give a farewell unto our Frenchmen; which fayled
not to do the like on their part. This being done, wee sayled
toward the north.” That last shout, that last sullen roar of
their mutual cannon, and the great waves of the Atlantic rolled,
unbroken by a sail, between our colonists and La Belle France.

eaf373.n1

[1] Charlevoix expressly says, speaking, however, of Charles IX., “qu'il
fut fort aise de voir que M. de Coligni n'employoit à cette expédition que
des Calvinistes, parce que c'étoit autant d'ennemis, dont il purgeoit
l'etat.” Of Coligny's anxiety in regard to this expedition and his objects,
the same writer says: “Coligny had the colony greatly at heart. It was,
in fact, the first thing of which the admiral spoke to the king when he
obtained permission to repair to the court.”

eaf373.n2

[2] Charlevoix describes Ribault as “un ancien officier de marine,” and
speaks of him as a man of experience and “Zélé Huguenot.” Of his
vessels, on this expedition, he says that they belonged to the class called
“Roberges, et qui differoient peu des Caravelles Espagnolles.”

eaf373.n3

[3] Laudonniere, in Hakluyt, gives the regal title among the Floridians
as Paracoussi. Charlevoix writes the word Paraousti, or Paracousti; “et
ausquels les Castillans donnent le titre général de Caciques.” Mico, in
subsequent periods, seems to have been the more popular title among the
Florida Indians, signifying the same thing, or its equivalents, Chief,
Prince, or Head Warrior.

eaf373.n4

[4] “A quatorze lienes de la Riviere de Mai, il en trouva une troiséme
qu'il nomma la Seine.”—Charlevoix's New France. Liv. 1, p. 39.

eaf373.n5

[5] Charlevoix seems to afford a sufficient sanction for the claim of Laudonniere,
in behalf of the gentle blood among the followers of Ribault.
He says “Il avoit des esquipages choisis, et plusieurs volontaries, parmi
lesquels il y avoit quelques gentilshommes.” And yet Ribault should
have known better than anybody else the quality of his armament. Certainly,
the good leaven, as the result showed, was in too small a proportion
to leaven the whole colony.

eaf373.n6

[6] Charlevoix, in his “Fastes Chronologiques,” preparatory to his work
on New France, locates Charles Fort, under Ribault, “near to the site of
the present city of Charleston. In his “Histoire Generale,” and in the
map which illustrates this narrative, however, he concurs in the statement
of the text. He also names the North Edisto the St. Croix.

p373-046 II. THE COLONY UNDER ALBERT.

[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

The Colonists, thus abandoned by their countrymen, proceeded
to make themselves secure in their forest habitations. Day and
night did they address themselves to the completion of their fortress.
They have seen none of the natives in the immediate
neighborhood of the spot in which they had pitched their tents;
but, aware of the wandering habits of the red-men, they might
naturally look for them at any moment. Their toils, quickened
by their caution, enabled them to make rapid progress. While
they labored, they felt nothing of their loneliness. The employments
which accompanied their situation, and flowed from its necessities,
might be said to exercise their fancies, and to subdue
the tendency to melancholy which might naturally grow out of
their isolation. Besides, the very novelty of the circumstances
in which they found themselves had its attractions, particularly
to a people so lively as the French. Our Huguenots, at the outset,
were very sensible to the picturesque beauties of their
forest habitation. For a season, bird, and beast, and tree, and
flower, presented themselves to their delighted eyes, in guises of
constantly-varying attraction. The solitude, itself, possessed its
charm, most fascinating of all,—until it became monotonous—

[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

to those who had been little favored of fortune in the crowded
world of civilization; and, with the feeling of a first freshness in
their hearts, and, while in the performance of duties which were
equally necessary to their safety, and new to their experience, the
whole prospect before them was beheld through that rose-colored
atmosphere which the fancy so readily flings before the mind,
beguiling the soberer thought into forgetfulness. During this
period they toiled successfully upon their fortifications. They
raised the parapet, they mounted the cannon for defence; built
rude dwellings within the walls, and in their boundless contiguity
of shade, with the feeling that they were in some sort “monarchs
of all they beheld;” they felt neither loneliness nor fear.

Their homes built, their fortifications complete, they proceeded,
in small detachments to explore the neighboring streams and
woods. They had, so far, finished all their tasks without meeting
with the natives. They did not shrink from this meeting. They
now desired it from motives of policy. They had no reason to
believe, from the specimens of the red-men whom they had already
encountered, that they should have any difficulty in soothing any
of the tribes; and they were justified in supposing that the impression
already made upon those whom they met, would operate
favorably upon their future intercourse. Boldly, then, our
Frenchmen darted into the adjacent forests, gathering their game
and provisions in the same grounds with the proprietors. But
the latter were never to be seen. They were shy of the strangers,
or they had not yet discovered their settlement. One day, however,
a fortunate chance enabled a party of the Huguenots to discover,
and to circumvent an Indian hunter, upon whom they came
suddenly in the forests. At first the poor fellow was exceedingly
dismayed at the encounter; but, subduing his fears, he submitted

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

with a good grace to the wishes of his captors, and was conducted
to the fortress. Here he was treated with consideration, and
made happy by several trifles which were given him. His confidence
was finally won, and his mouth was opened. He became
communicative, and described his people and their territories.
He avowed himself the subject of a great monarch, whom he
called Audusta,[7]—a name, in which, under the corruptions of a
French pronunciation, we recognize the well-known modern name
of Edisto. He described the boundaries of empire belonging to
this forest chieftain; and gave a general and not incorrect idea of
the whole surrounding country.

Captain Albert was exceedingly delighted with his acquisition.
It was important that he should open an intercourse with the natives,
to whose maize-fields and supplies of venison his necessities
required he should look. He treated the hunter with liberality
and courtesy, dismissing him at night-fall with many presents, of
a kind most grateful to the savage taste. These hospitalities and
gifts, it was not doubted, would pave the way for an intercourse
equally profitable and pleasant to both the parties. Suffering a
few days to elapse after the departure of the hunter, Albert prepared
to follow his directions, and explore the settlements of King
Audusta. He did so, and was received with great kindness by
the stately savage. The Indian hunter had made a favorable report
of the Frenchmen, and Audusta adopted them as his friends
and allies. He promised them provisions and assistance, and the

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

friendship of four other chiefs or princes, his tributaries, whose
names are given as Mayou, Hoya, Touppa, and Stalamè.[8] These
were all, in turn,—except the last,—visited by Albert, who found
a frank and generous welcome wherever he came. He consumed
several days in these visits; and the intercourse, in a little while,
between the French and red-men, grew so great, “that, in a manner,
all things were soon common between them.” Returning to
Audusta, Albert prepared to visit Stalamè, whose country lay
north of Fort Charles some fifteen leagues. This would make
his abode somewhere on the Edisto, near Givham's, perhaps; or,
inclining still north, to the head of Ashley River. Sailing up the
river, (the Edisto probably,) they encountered a great current,
which they followed, to reach the abode of Stalamè. He, too, received
the strangers with hospitality and friendship. The intercourse
thus established between the party soon assumed the most
endearing aspect. The Indian kings took counsel of Albert in all
matters of importance. The Frenchmen were called to the conference
in the round-house of the tribe, quite as frequently as their
own recognized counsellors. In other words, the leaders of the
Huguenots were adopted into the tribe, that being the usual mode
of indicating trust and confidence. Albert was present at all the
assemblages of state in the realm of Audusta; at all ceremonials,
whether of business or pleasure; at his great hunts; and at the

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

singular feasts of his religion. One of these feasts, that of Toya,[9]
which succeeded the visit of Albert to the territories of Audusta
and the four tributary kings, will call for an elaborate description
hereafter, when we narrate the legend of Guernache, upon whose
fate that of the colony seems to have depended.

The intercourse of our Huguenots with Audusta was of vital
importance to the former. In the form of gifts, he yielded them
a regular tribute of maize and beans, (corn and peas, in modern
parlance,) and was easily persuaded to do so by the simple trifles,
of little value, which the colonists proffered in return. It is not
difficult to win the affections of an inferior people, where the superior
is indulgent. Kindness will disarm the hostility of the
savage, and justice will finally subdue the jealousy of conscious ignorance.
Sympathy in sports and amusements, above all things,
will do much towards bringing together tribes who differ in their
laws and language, and will make them forgetful of all their differences.
The French have been usually much more successful
than any other people in overcoming the prejudices of the red-men
of America. The moral of their nation is much more flexible than
that of the Englishman and Spaniard;—the former of whom has
always subdued, and the latter usually debased or destroyed, the
races with which they came in conflict.

The policy of Albert did not vary from that which usually distinguished
his countrymen in like situations. The French Protestant
was, by no means, of the faith and temper of the English
Puritan. In simplifying his religion, he did not clothe his exterior
in gloom; he did not deny that there should be sunshine and

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

blossoms in the land. Our colonists at Fort Charles did not perplex
the Indians with doctrinal questions. It is greatly to be
feared, indeed, that religion did not, in any way, disturb them in
their solitudes. At all events, it was not of such a freezing temper
as to deny them the indulgence of an intercourse with the
natives, which, for a season, was very agreeable and very inspiriting
to both the parties.

But smiles and sunshine cannot last forever. The granaries
of the Indians began to fail under their own profligacy and the
demands of the Frenchmen. The resources of the former, never
abundant, were soon exhausted in providing for the additional
hungry mouths which had come among them. Shrinking from
labor, they addressed as little of it as they well could, to the cultivation
of their petty maize fields. They planted them, as we do
now, a couple of grains of corn to each hill, at intervals of three
or four square feet, and as the corn grew to a sufficient height,
peas were distributed among the roots, to twine about the stalks
when the vines could no longer impair its growth. They cropped
the same land twice in each summer. The supplies, thus procured,
would have been totally inadequate to their wants, but for the
abundant game, the masts of the forest, and such harsh but
wholesome roots as they could pulverize and convert into breadstuffs.
Their store was thus limited always, and adapted to their
own wants simply. Any additional demand, however small, produced
a scarcity in their granaries. The improvidence of Audusta,
or his liberality, prevented him from considering this danger,
until it began to be felt. He had supplied the Frenchmen
until his stock was exhausted; no more being left in his possession
than would suffice to sow his fields.

“For this reason,”—such was the language of the savage

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

monarch—“we must retire to the forests, and live upon its mast and
roots, until harvest time. We are sorry that we can supply you
no longer; you must now seek the granaries of our neighbors.
There is a king called Couexis, a prince of great might and renown
in this country, whose province lies toward the south. His
lands are very fertile. His stores are ample at all seasons. He
alone can furnish you with food for a long time. Before you approach
the territories of Couexis, there is his brother, king Ouade,
who is scarcely less wealthy. He is a generous chief, who will be
very joyful if he may but once behold you. Seek out these, and
your wants shall be supplied.”

The advice was taken. The Frenchmen had no alternative.
They addressed themselves first to Ouade. His territories lay
along the river Belle, some twenty-five leagues south of Port
Royal. He received them with the greatest favor and filled their
pinnace with maize and beans. He welcomed them to his abode
with equal state and hospitality. His house is described as being
hung with a tapestry richly wrought of feathers. The couch
upon which he slept, was dressed with “white coverlettes, embroidered
with devises of very wittie and fine workmanship, and
fringed round about with a fringe dyed in the colour of scarlet.”
His gifts to our Frenchmen were not limited to the commodities
they craved. He gave them six coverlets, and tapestry such as
decorated his couch and dwelling; specimens of a domestic
manufacture which declare for tastes and a degree of art which
seems, in some degree, to prove their intimacy with the more
polished and powerful nations of the south. In regard to food
hereafter, king Ouade promised that his new acquaintance should
never want.

Thus was the first intercourse maintained by our Huguenots

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

with their savage neighbors. It was during this intimacy, and
while all things seemed to promise fair in regard to the colony,
that the tragical events took place which furnish the materials for
the legend which follows, the narrative of which requires that we
should mingle events together, those which occurred in the periods
already noted, and those which belong to our future chapters.
Let it suffice, here, that, with his pinnace stored with
abundance, the mil (meal), corn and peas, of Ouade, Albert returned
in safety to Fort Charles.

eaf373.n7

[7] The name in Charlevoix is written Andusta, but this is most probably
an error of the press. Laudonniere in Hackluyt uniformly uses the orthography
which we adopt, and which furnishes a coincidence so really
striking in the preservation of a name so nearly the same in sound, to this
very day, in the same region.

eaf373.n8

[8] A remark of Charlevoix, which accords with the experience of all
early travellers and explorers among the American Indians, is worthy to be
kept in remembrance, as enabling us to account for that frequent contradiction
which occurs in the naming of places and persons among the savages.
He records distinctly that each canton or province of Florida bore, among
the red-men, the name of the ruling chief. Now, as a matter of course where
the tribes are nomadic, the names of places continually underwent change,
according to that of the tribe by which the spot was temporarily occupied.

eaf373.n9

[9] According to Charlevoix, Toya was the name of the Floridian god,
and not that of the ceremonies simply. “Elle se célébroit en l'honneur
d'une Divinité nommée Toya.”

p373-054 III. THE LEGEND OF GUERNACHE. Chap. I.

[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

Showing how Guernache, the Musician, a great favorite with our Frenchmen, lost the
favor of Captain Albert, and how cruelly he was punished by the latter.

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

[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

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

[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]

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.

[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]

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

[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]

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,[10] 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

[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]

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

[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]

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.

eaf373.n10

[10] Iawa was the title of the priest or prophet of the Floridian. The
word is thus written by Laudonniere in Hakluyt. It is probably a misprint
only which, in Charlevoix, writes it “Iona.”

p373-061 IV. THE LEGEND OF GUERNACHE. Chap. II. THE FESTIVAL OF TOYA.

[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]

Being a continuation of the legend of Guernache; showing the superstitions of the RedMen;
how Guernache offended Captain Albert, and what followed from the secret
efforts of the Frenchmen to penetrate the mysteries of Toya!

It would be difficult to say, from the imperfect narratives
afforded us by the chroniclers, what were the precise objects of
the present ceremonials;—what gods were to be invoked;—what
evil beings implored;—what wrath and anger to be deprecated and
diverted from the devoted tribes. As the Frenchmen received
no explanation of their mystic preparations, so are we left unenlightened
by their revelations. They do not even amuse by their
conjectures, and Laudonniere stops short in his narrative of what
did happen, apologizing for having said so much on so trifling a
matter. We certainly owe him no gratitude for his forbearance.
What he tells us affords but little clue to the motive of their fantastic
proceedings. The difficulty, which is at present ours, was
not less that of Albert and his Frenchmen. They were compelled
to behold the outlines of a foreign ritual whose mysteries they
were not permitted to explore, and had their curiosity provoked

[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]

by shows of a most exciting character, which only mocked their
desires, and tantalized their appetites. On the first arrival of
Albert, and after he had been rested and refreshed, Audusta himself
had conducted him, with his followers, to the spot which had
been selected for the ceremonies of the morrow. “This was a
great circuit of ground with open prospect and round in figure.”
Here they saw “many women roundabout, which labored by all
means to make the place cleane and neate.” The ceremonies
began early on the morning of the ensuing day. Hither they repaired
in season, and found “all they which were chosen to celebrate
the feast,” already “painted and trimmed with rich feathers
of divers colours.” These led the way in a procession from the
dwelling of Audusta to the “place of Toya.” Here, when they
had come, they set themselves in new order under the guidance of
three Indians, who were distinguished by plumes, paint, and a
costume entirely superior to the rest. Each of them carried a
tabret, to the plaintive and lamenting music of which they sang
in wild, strange, melancholy accents; and, in slow measures,
dancing the while, they passed gradually into the very centre of
the sacred circle. They were followed by successive groups,
which answered to their strains, and to whose songs they, in turn,
responded with like echoes. This continued for awhile, the music
gradually rising and swelling from the slow to the swift, from the
sad to the passionate, while the moods of the actors and the spectators,
also varying, the character of the scene changed to one of
the wildest excitement. Suddenly, the characters—those who
were chief officiators in this apparent hymn of fate—broke from
the enchanted circle—darted through the ranks of the spectators,
and dashed, headlong, with frantic cries, into the depths of the
neighboring thickets. Then followed another class of actors. As

[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]

if a sudden and terrible doom overhung the nation, the Indian
women set up cries of grief and lamentation. Their pasion grew
to madness. In their rage, the mothers seized upon the young
virgins of the tribe, and, with the sharp edges of muscle shells, they
lanced their arms, till the blood gushed forth in free streams,
which they eagerly flung into the air, crying aloud at every moment,
“He-to-yah! He-to-yah! He-to-yah!”[11]

These ceremonies, though not more meaningless, perhaps, in
the eyes of the Christian, than would be our most solemn religious
proceedings in those of the Indian, provoked the laughter of Albert
and some of his Frenchmen. This circumstance awakened
the indignation of their excellent friend, Audusta. His displeasure
was now still farther increased by a proceeding of Captain
Albert. It was an attempt upon their mysteries. That portion
of the officiating priesthood—their Iawas—who fled from the
sacred enclosure to deep recesses of the woods, sought there for
the prosecution, in secret, of rites too holy for the vulgar eye.
Here they maintained their sanctum sanctorum. This was the
place consecrated to the communion of the god with his immediate
servants—the holy of holies, which it was death to penetrate
or pass. Albert suffered his curiosity to get the better of
his discretion. Offended by the laughter of the Frenchmen, at
what they had already beheld, and fearing lest their audacity
should lead them farther, the king, Audusta, had gathered them
again within the royal wigwam, where he sought, by marked
kindness and distinction, to make them forgetful of what had been

[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]

denied. They had seen, as he told them, the more impressive
portions of the ceremonial. There were others, but not of a kind
to interest them. But the fact that there was something to conceal,
stimulated the curiosity of Albert. In due degree with the
king's anxiety to keep his secret, was that of the French captain's
to fathom it. Holding a brief consultation with his men, accordingly,
he declared his desire to this effect; and proposed, that one
of their number should contrive to steal forth, and, finding his
way to the forbidden spot, should place himself in such a position
as would enable him to survey all the mysterious proceedings.
To this course, Guernache frankly opposed his opinions. His
greater intimacy with the red-men led him properly to conceive
the danger which might ensue, from their discovery of the intrusion.
He had been well taught by Monaletta, the degree of importance
which they attached to the security of their mystic rites.
Arguing with the honesty of his character, he warned his captain
of the risk which such unbecoming curiosity would incur—the
peril to the offender, himself, if detected; and the hazards to the
colony from the loss of that friendship to which they had been
already so largely indebted. But the counsels of Guernache were
rejected with indignity. Prepared, already, to regard him with
dislike and suspicion, Albert heard his suggestions only as so
much impertinence; and rudely commanded him not to forget
himself and place, nor to thrust his undesired opinions upon the
consideration of gentlemen. The poor fellow was effectually
silenced by this rebuke. He sank out of sight, and presumed no
farther to advise. But the counsel was not wholly thrown away
Disregarded by Albert, it was caught up, and insisted on, by
others, who had better conventional claims to be heard, and the
proposition might have been defeated but for the ready

[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]

interposition of one Pierre Renaud, a young fellow, who, perceiving the
captain's strong desire to seek out the mystery, and anxious to, ingratiate
himself with that person, boldly laughed at the fears of
the objectors, and volunteered, himself, to defy the danger, in his
own person, in order to gratify his chief. This silenced the controversy.
Albert readily availed himself of the offer, and Pierre
Renaud was commanded to try his fortune. This he did, and,
notwithstanding the surveillance maintained over them by Audusta
and his attendants, “he made such shift, that, by subtle
meanes, he gotte out of the house of Audusta, and secretly went
and hid himself behinde a very thick bush, where, at his pleasure,
he might easily desery the ceremonies of the feaste.”

We will leave Renaud thus busy in his espionage, while we rehearse
the manner in which the venerable Audusta proceeded to
treat his company. A substantial feast was provided for them,
consisting of venison, wild fowl, and fruits. Their breadstuffs
were maize, batatas, and certain roots sodden first in water, and
then prepared in the sun. A drink was prepared from certain
other roots, which, though bitter, was refreshing and slightly
stimulant. Our Frenchmen, in the absence of the beverages of
Italy and France, did not find it unpalatable. They ate and
drank with a hearty relish, which gratified the red-men, who lavished
on them a thousand caresses. The feast was followed by
the dance. In a spacious area, surrounded by great ranks of
oaks, cedars, pines, and other trees, they assembled, men and women,
in their gayest caparison. The men were tatooed and
painted, from head to foot, and not inartistically, in the most
glowing colors. Birds and beasts were figured upon their breasts,
and huge, strange reptiles were made to coil up and around their
legs and arms. From their waists depended light garments of

[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]

white cotton, the skirts being trimmed with a thick fringe of red
or scarlet. Some of them wore head-dresses consisting of the
skins of snakes, or eagles, the panther or the wild cat, which,
stuffed ingeniously, were made to sit erect above the forehead, and
to look abroad, from their novel place of perch, in a manner
equally natural and frightful. The women were habited in a similarly
wild but less offensive manner. The taste which presided in
their decorations, was of a purer and a gentler fashion. Their
cheeks were painted red, their arms, occasionally but slightly tattooed,
and sometimes the figure of a bird, a flower or a star, might
be seen engrained upon the breast. A rather scanty robe of
white cotton concealed, in some degree, the bosom, and extended
somewhat below the knees. Around the necks of several, were
hung thick strands of native pearls, partially discolored by the
action of fire which had been employed to extricate them from the
shells. Pearls were also mingled ingeniously with the long tresses
of their straight, black hair; trailing with it, in not unfrequent
instances, even to the ground. Others, in place of this more
valuable ornament, wore necklaces, anklets and tiaras, formed
wholly of one or other of the numerous varieties of little sea
shells, by which, after heavy storms, the low and sandy shores of
the country were literally covered. Strings of the same shell encircled
the legs, which were sometimes of a shape to gratify the
nicest exactions of the civilized standard. The forms of our Indian
damsels were generally symmetrical and erect, their movements
at once agile and graceful—their foreheads high, their lips
thin, and, with a soft, persuasive expression inclining to melancholy;
while their eyes black and bright, always shone with a peculiar
forest fire that seemed happily to consoft with their dark, but not
unpleasing complexions. Well, indeed, with a pardonable vanity,

[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]

might their people call them the “Daughters of the Sun.” He
had made them his, by his warmest and fondest glances. These
were the women, whose descendants, in after days, as Yemassees
and Muscoghees and Seminoles, became the scourge of so large a
portion of the Anglo-American race.

When the Frenchmen beheld this rude, but really brilliant
assemblage, and saw what an attractive show the young damsels
made, they were delighted beyond measure. Visions of the fout
and revel, as enjoyed in La Belle France, glanced before their
fancies; and the lively capering that followed among the young
Huguenots, informed Captain Albert of the desire which was felt
by all. In stern, compelling accents, he bade Guernache take his
violin, and provide the music, while the rest prepared to dance.
But Guernache excused himself, alleging the want of strings, for
his instrument. These were shown, in a broken state, to his
commander. He had broken them, we may state en passant, for
the occasion. His pride had been hurt by the treatment of his
captain. He felt that the purpose of the latter was to degrade
him. Such a performance as that required at his hands, was properly
no part of his duty; and his proud spirit revolted at the
idea of contributing, in any way, to the wishes of his superior,
when the object of the latter was evidently his own degradation.
Albert spoke to him testily, and with brows that did not seek to
subdue or conceal their frowns. But Guernache was firm, and
though he studiously forebore, by word or look, to increase the
provocation which he had already given, he yet made no effort to
pacify the imperious nature which he had offended. The excuse
was such as could not but be taken. There was the violin, indeed,
but there, also, were the broken strings. Albert turned
from the musician with undisguised loathing; and the poor fellow

[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]

sunk back with a secret presentiment of evil. He but too well
knew the character of his superior.

Meanwhile, the red men had resort to their own primitive
music. Their instruments consisted of simple reeds, which,
bound together, were passed, to and fro, beneath the lips and discoursed
very tolerable harmonies;—and a rude drum formed by
stretching a raw deer skin over the mouth of a monstrous calabash,
enabled them, when the skin had been contracted in the
sun, to extort from it a very tolerable substitute for the music of
the tambourine. There were other instruments, susceptible of
sound if not of sweetness. Numerous damsels, none over fifteen,
lithe and graceful, carried in their hands little gourds, which were
filled with shells and pebbles, and tied over with skins, dried also
in the sun. With these, as they danced, they kept time so admirably
as might have charmed the most practised European
master. Thus, all provided, some with the drum, and others with
flute-like reeds and hollow, tinkling gourds, they only awaited the
summons of their partners to the area. Shaking their tinkling
gourds, as if in pretty impatience at the delay, the girls each
waited, with anxious looks, the signal from her favorite.

The Frenchmen were not slow in seeking out their partners.
At the word and signal of their captain, they dashed in among the
laughing group of dusky maidens, each seeking for the girl whose
beauties had been most grateful to his tastes. Nor was Captain
Albert, himself, with all his pride and asceticism, unwilling to forget
his dignity for a season, and partake of the rude festivities of
the occasion. When, indeed, did mirth and music fail to usurp
dominion in the Frenchman's heart? Albert greedily cast his
eyes about, seeking a partner, upon whom he might bestow his
smiles. He was not slow in the selection. It so happened, that

[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]

Monaletta, the spouse of Guernache, was not only one of the
loveliest damsels present, but she was well known as the niece of
King Audusta. Her beauty and royal blood, equally commended
her to the favor of our captain. She stood apart from all the
rest, stately and graceful as the cedar, not seeming to care for the
merriment in which all were now engaged. There was a dash of
sadness in her countenance. Her thoughts were elsewhere—her
eyes scarcely with the assembly, when the approach of Albert
startled her from her reverie. He came as Cæsar did, to certain
conquest; and was about to take her hand, as a matter of course,
when he was equally astounded and enraged to find her draw it
away from his grasp.

“You will not dance with me, Monaletta?”

“No,” she answered him in broken French—“No dance with
you—dance with him!” pointing to Guernache.

Speaking these words, she crossed the floor, with all the bold
imprudence of a truly loving heart, to the place where stood our
sorrowful and unhappy violinist. He had followed the movements
of Albert, with looks of most serious apprehension, and his heart
had sunk, with a sudden terror, when he saw that he approached
Monaletta. The scene which followed, however grateful to his
affections, was seriously calculated to arouse his fears. He feared
for Monaletta, as he feared for himself. Nothing escaped him in
the brief interview, and he saw, in the vindictive glances of Albert,
the most evil auguries for the future. Yet how precious was her
fondness to his heart! He half forgot his apprehensions as he
felt her hand upon his shoulder, and beheld her eyes looking with
appealing fondness up into his own. That glance was full of the
sweetest consolation,—and said everything that was grateful to his
terrified affections. She, too, had seen the look of hate and anger

[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]

in the face of Albert, and she joyed in the opportunity of rebuking
the one with her disdain, and of consoling the other with her
sympathies. It was an unhappy error. Bitter, indeed, was the
look with which the aroused and mortified Albert regarded the
couple as they stood apart from all the rest. Guernache beheld
this look. He knew the meaning of that answering glance of his
superior which encountered his own. His looks were those of entreaty,
of deprecation. They seemed to say, “I feel that you
are offended, but I had no purpose or part in the offence.” His
glance of humility met with no answering indulgence. It seemed,
indeed, still farther to provoke his tyrant, who, advancing midway
across the room, addressed him in stern, hissing accents,
through his closed and almost gnashing teeth.

“Away, sirrah, to the pinnace! See that you remain in her
until I summon you! Away!”

The poor fellow turned off from Monaletta. He shook himself
free from the grasp which she had taken of his hand. He prepared
to obey the wanton and cruel order, but he could not forbear
saying reproachfully as he retired—

“You push me too hard, Captain Albert.”

“No words, sir! Away!” was the stern response. The submissive
fellow instantly disappeared. With his disappearance,
Albert again approached Monaletta, and renewed his application.
But this time he met with a rejection even more decided than before.
He looked to King Audusta; but an Indian princess, while
she remains unmarried, enjoys a degree of social liberty which
the same class of persons in Europe would sigh for and supplicate
in vain. There were no answering sympathies in the king's face,
to encourage Albert in the prosecution of his suit. Nay, he had
the mortification to perceive, from the expression of his

[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]

countenance, that his proceedings towards Guernache—who was a general
favorite—had afforded not more satisfaction to him, than they
had done to Monaletta. It was, therefore, in no very pleasant
mood with himself and those around him, that our captain consoled
himself in the dance with the hand of an inferior beauty.
Jealous of temper and frivolous of mind—characteristics which
are frequently found together—Albert was very fond of dancing,
and enjoyed the sport quite as greatly as any of his companions.
But, even while he capered, his soul, stung and dissatisfied, was
brooding vexatiously over its petty hurts. His thoughts were
busied in devising ways to revenge himself upon the humble
offender by whom his mortification originally grew. Upon this
sweet and bitter cud did he chew while the merry music sounded
in his ears, and the gaily twinkling feet of the dusky maidens
were whirling in promiscuous mazes beneath his eye. But these
festivities, and his own evil meditations, were destined to have an
interruption as startling as unexpected.

While the mirth was at its highest, and the merriment most
contagious, the ears of the assembly were startled by screams, the
most terrible, of fright and anguish. The Frenchmen felt a
nameless terror seizing upon them. The cries and shrieks were
from an European throat. Wild was the discord which accompanied
them,—whoops of wrath and vengeance, which, as evidently
issued only from the throats of most infuriated savages.
The music ceased in an instant. The dance was arrested. The
Frenchmen rushed to their arms, fully believing that they
were surrounded by treachery—that they had been beguiled to
the feast only to become its victims. With desperate decision,
they prepared themselves for the worst. While their suspense and
fear were at their highest, the cause of the alarm and uproar soon

[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]

became apparent to their eyes. Bursting, like a wounded deer,
suddenly, from the woods by which the dwelling of Audusta was
surrounded, a bloody figure, ghastly and spotted, appeared before
the crowd. In another moment the Frenchmen recognized the
spy, Pierre Renaud, who had volunteered to get at the heart of
the Indian mysteries—to follow the priesthood to their sacred
haunts, and gather all the secrets of their ceremonials.

We have already seen that he reached his place of watch in
safety. But here his good fortune failed him: his place of espionage
was not one of concealment. In the wild orgies of their
religion,—for they seem to have practised rites not dissimilar to,
and not less violent and terrible than those of the British
Druids,—the priests darted over the crouching spy. Detected in
the very act, where he lay, “squat like a toad,” the Iawas fell
upon him with the sharp instruments of flint with which they had
been lancing and lacerating their own bodies. With these they
contrived, in spite of all his struggles and entreaties, to inflict upon
him some very severe wounds. Their rage was unmeasured, and
the will to slay him was not wanting. But Renaud was a fellow
equally vigorous and active. He baffled their blows as well as he
could, and at length breaking from their folds, he took fairly to his
heels. Howling with rage and fury, they darted upon his track,
their wild shrieks ringing through the wood like those of so many
demons suffering in mortal agony. They cried to all whom they
saw, to stay and slay the offender. Others joined in the chase, as
they heard this summons. But fortune favored the fugitive. His
terror added wings to his flight. He was not, it seems, destined
to such a death as they designed him. He outran his pursuers,
and, dodging those whom he accidentally encountered, he made
his way into the thick of the area, where his comrades, half

[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]

bewildered by the uproar, were breaking up the dance. He sank
down in the midst of them, exhausted by loss of blood and fatigue,
only a moment before the appearance of his pursuers.

The French instantly closed around their companion. They
had not put aside their weapons, and they now prepared themselves
to encounter the worst. The aspect of the danger was
threatening in the last degree. The lawas were boiling with
sacred fury. They were the true rulers of their people. Their
will was sovereign over the popular moods. They demanded,
with violent outery, the blood of the individual by whom their
sacred retreats had been violated, and their shekinah polluted by
vulgar and profane presence. They demanded the blood of all
the Frenchmen, as participating in the crime. They called
upon Audusta to assert his own privileges and theirs. They
appealed to the people in a style of phrenzied eloquence, the
effects of which were soon visible in the inflamed features and
wild action of the more youthful warriors. Already were these
to be seen slapping their sides, tossing their hands in air,
and, with loud shrieks, lashing themselves into a fury like that
which enflamed their prophets. King Audusta looked confounded.
The Frenchmen were his guests. He had invited
them to partake of his hospitality, and to enjoy the rites of his
religion. He was in some sort pledged for their safety, though
one of them had violated the conditions of their coming. His
own feelings revolted at giving any sanction for the assault, yet
he appeared unable or unwilling to resist the clamors of the
priesthood. But he also demanded, though with evident reluctance,
the blood of the offender. He was not violent, though
urgent, in this demand. He showed indignation rather than
hostility; and he gave Albert to understand that in no way

[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]

could the people or the priesthood be appeased, unless by the
sacrifice of the guilty person.

But Albert could not yield the victim. The French were
prepared to perish to a man before complying with any such
demand. They were firm. They fenced him in with their
weapons, and declared their readiness to brave every peril ere
they would abandon their comrade. This resolution was the
more honorable, as Pierre Renaud was no favorite among
them. Though seriously disquieted by the event, and apprehensive
of the issue, Albert was man enough to second their spirit.
Besides, Renaud had been his own emissary in the adventure
which threatened to terminate so fatally. His denial was inferred
from his deportment; and the clamor of the Indians was
increased. The rage of the Iawas was renewed with the conviction
that no redress was to be given them. Already had the
young warriors of Audusta procured their weapons. More than
an hundred of them surrounded our little band of Frenchmen,
who were only thirteen in number. Bows were bent, lances
were set in rest, javelins were seen lifted, and ready to be
thrown; and the drum which had been just made to sound, in
lively tones, for the dance, now gave forth the most dismal din,
significant of massacre and war. Already were to be seen, in
the hands of some more daring Indian than the rest, the heavy
war-club, or the many-teethed macana, waving aloft and threatening
momently to descend upon the victim; and nothing was
wanting but a first blow to bring on a general massacre. Suddenly,
at this perilous moment, the fiddle of Guernache was
heard without; followed, in a moment after, by the appearance
of the brave fellow himself. Darting in between the opposing
ranks, attended by the faithful Monaletta, with a grand crash

[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]

upon his instrument, now newly-strung, followed by a rapid
gush of the merriest music, he took both parties by the happiest
surprise, and instantly produced a revulsion of feeling among
the savages as complete as it was sudden.

“Ami! ami! ami!” was the only cry from an hundred voices,
at the reappearance of Guernache among them. They had
acquired this friendly epithet among the first words which they
had learned at their coming, from the French; and their affection
for our fiddler had made its application to himself, in particular,
a thing of general usage. He was their friend. He had shown
himself their friend, and they had a faith in him which they
accorded to no other of his people. The people were with him,
and the priesthood not unfriendly. Time was gained by this
diversion; and, in such an outbreak as that which has been
described, time is all that is needful, perhaps, to stay the arm
of slaughter. Guernache played out his tune, and cut a few
pleasant antics, in which the now happy Monaletta, though of the
blood royal, readily joined him. The musician had probably
saved the party from massacre. The subsequent work of treaty
and pacification was comparatively easy. Pierre Renaud was
permitted to depart for the pinnace, under the immediate care
of Guernache and Monaletta. The Iawas received some presents
of gaudy costume, bells, and other gew-gaws, while a liberal gift
of knives and beads gratified their warriors and their women.
The old ties of friendship were happily reunited, and the calumet
went round, from mouth to mouth, in token of restored confidence
and renewed faith. Before nightfall, happily relieved from his
apprehensions, Albert, with his detachment, was rapidly making
his way with his pinnace, down the waters of the swiftly-rolling
Edisto.

eaf373.n11

[11] Adair likens the cry of the Southern Indians to the sacred name among
the Jews—“Je-ho-vah.” He writes the Indian syllables thus—“Yo-he-wah,”
and it constitutes one of his favorite arguments for deducing the
origin of the North American red-men from the ancient Hebrews.

p373-076 V. THE LEGEND OF GUERNACHE. Chap. III.

[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]

The Legend of Guernache is continued, showing how the Fortress of the Huguenots was
destroyed, and what happened thereafter to Guernache the Musician.

The fidelity which Guernache had shown in the recent difficulty
with the Indians, did not appear to lessen in any degree
the unfavorable impressions which Capt. Albert had received of
that worthy fellow. Indeed, the recent and remarkable service
which he had rendered, by which, in all probability, the whole
party had been preserved from massacre, rather increased, if any
thing, the hostile temper of his superior. The evil spirit still
raged within the bosom of Capt. Albert, utterly baffling a judgment
at no period of particular excellence, and blinding every
honorable sentiment which might have distinguished him under
other influences. He was now doubly mortified, that he should
be supposed to owe his present safety to the person he had
wronged—a mortification which found due increase as he remembered
how much greater had been the respect and deference of
the savages for his drummer than for himself. This recollection
was a perpetual goad to that working malice in his heart, which
was already busied in devising schemes of revenge, which were
to salve his hurts of pride and vanity, by the sufferings as well

[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]

as humiliation of his subordinate. It will scarcely be believed
that, when fairly out of sight of the village of Audusta, he rebuked
Guernache sharply, for leaving the pinnace against his
orders, and even spoke of punishing him for this disobedience.[12]
But the murmurs of some of his officers, and, perhaps, a little
lurking sentiment of shame in his own bosom, prevented him
from attempting any such disgraceful proceeding. But the feeling
of hostility only rankled the more because of its suppression,
and he soon contrived to show Guernache and, indeed, everybody
besides, that from that hour he was his most bitter and unforgiving
enemy, with a little and malignant spirit, he employed various
petty arts, which a superior of a base nature may readily
command on all occasions, by which to make the poor fellow feel
how completely he was at his mercy; and each day exposed him
to some little snare, or some stern caprice, by which Guernache
became involuntarily an offender. His tyrant subjected him to
duties the most troublesome and humiliating, while denying, or
stinting him of all those privileges which were yet commonly accorded
to his comrades. But all this would have been as nothing
to Guernache, if he had not been denied permission to visit, as
before, the hamlet of Audusta, where his princess dwelt. On
the miserable pretext that the priesthood might revenge upon
him the misconduct of Renaud, Albert insisted upon his abstaining
wholly from the Indian territories. But this pretence deceived
nobody, and nobody less than Guernache. Little did the

[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]

petty tyrant of Fort Charles imagine that the object of his
malice enjoyed a peculiar source of consolation for all these
privations. His comrades were his friends. They treated him
with a warmth and kindness, studiously proportioned to the illtreatment
of his superior. They assisted him in the severer
tasks which were allotted him to fulfil—gave him their company
whenever this was possible, while he was engaged in the execution
of his most cheerless duties, and soothed his sorrows by the
expression of their almost unanimous sympathies. Nor did they
always withhold their bitter denunciations of the miserable despotism
under which he suffered, and which they feared. Dark
hints of remedy were spoken, brows frowned at the mention of
the wrongs of their companion, and the head shaken ominously,
when words of threatening significance were uttered—appealed
gratefully to certain bitter desires which had taken root in the
mind of the victim. But these sympathies, though grateful,
were of small amount in comparison with another source of
consolation, which contributed to sustain Guernache in his tribulation.
This was found in the secret companionship of his young
and beautiful Indian wife. Denied to see him at the village of
Audusta, the fond and fearless woman determined to seek him at
all hazards in his own domain. She stole away secretly to the
fortress of the Huguenots. Long and earnest was the watch which
she maintained upon its portals, from the thickets of the neighboring
wood. Here, vigilant as the sentinel that momently
expects his foe, she harbored close, in waiting for the beloved
one. Her quick instincts had already taught her the true cause
of his denial, and of her disappointment; and her Indian lessons
had made that concealment, which she now believed to be necessary
to her purpose, a part of the habitual policy of her people.

[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]

She showed herself to none of the people of the fortress. She
suspected them all; she had no faith but in the single one. And
he, at length, came forth, unaccompanied, in the prosecution of an
occasional labor—that of cutting and procuring wood. She suffered
him to make his way into the forests—to lose sight of the
fortress, and, with a weary spirit and a wounded soul, to begin
his lonely labors with the axe. Then did she steal behind him,
and beside him; and when he moaned aloud—supposing that he
had no auditor—how startling fell upon his ear the sweet, soft
whisper of that precious voice which he had so lovingly learned
to distinguish from all others. He turned with a gush of rapturous
delight, and, weeping, she rushed into his arms, pouring
forth, in a wild cry, upon his breast, the whole full volume of
her warm, devoted heart!

That moment, in spite of all his fears, was amply compensative
to Guernache for all his troubles. He forgot them all in the intensity
of his new delights. And when Monaletta led him off
from his tasks to the umbrageous retreat in the deeper woods
where her nights had been recently passed,—when she conducted
him to the spot where her own hands had built a mystic bower for
her own shelter—when she declared her purpose still to occupy
this retreat, in the solitude alone,—that she might be ever near
him, to behold him at a distance, herself unseen, when he came
forth accompanied by others—to join him, to feel his embrace,
hear his words of love, and assist him in his labors when he came
forth unattended—when, speaking and promising thus, she lay
upon the poor fellow's bosom, looking up with tearful and bright
eyes in his wan and apprehensive countenance—then it was that
he could forget his tyrant—could lose his fears and sorrows in his
love, and in the enjoyment of moments the most precious to his

[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]

heart, forget all the accompanying influences which might endanger
his safety.

But necessity arose sternly between the two, and pointed to the
exactions of duty. The tasks of Guernache were to be completed.
His axe was required to sound among the trees of the
forest, and a certain number of pieces of timber were required
by sunset at his hands. It was surprising as it was sweet to
behold the Indian woman as she assisted him in his tasks. Her
strength did not suffice for the severer toils of the wood-cutter,
but she contrived a thousand modes for contributing to his performances.
Love lightens every labor, and invents a thousand
arts by which to do so. Monaletta anticipated the wants of
Guernache. She removed the branches as he smote them, she
threw the impediments from his way,—helped him to lift and turn
the logs as each successive side was to be hewn. She brought
him water, when he thristed, from the spring. She spoke and
sung to him in the most encouraging voice when he was weary.
He was never weary when with her.

Guernache combatted her determination to remain in the neighborhood
of the fortress; but his objections were feebly urged, and
she soon overcame them. He had not the courage to insist upon
his argument, as he had not the strength to resist the consolations
which her presence brought him. She soon succeeded in assuring
him that there was little or no danger of detection by their enemy.
She laughed at the idea of the Frenchmen discovering her place
of concealment, surprising her in her progress through the woods,
or overtaking her in flight; and Guernache knew enough of Indian
subtlety readily to believe that the white was no match for the
dusky race in the exercise of all those arts which are taught by
forest life. “But her loneliness and privation, exposed to the

[figure description] Page 064.[end figure description]

season's changes, and growing melancholy in the absence from old
associates?” But how could she be lonely, was her argument,
when near the spot where he dwelt—when she could see and hear
and speak with him occasionally? She wished no other communion.
As for the exposure of her present abode, was it
greater than that to which the wandering life of the red-man
subjects his people at all seasons? The Indian woman is quite as
much at home in the forest as the Indian warrior. She acquires
her resources of strength and dexterity in his company, and by
the endurance of similar necessities and the employment of like
exercises. She learns even in childhood to build her own green
bower at night, to gather her own fuel, light her own fire, dress
her own meat—nay, provide it; and, weaponed with bow, and
javelin and arrow, bring down buck or doe bounding at full speed
through the wildest forests. Her skill and spirit are only not
equal to those of the master by whom she is taught, but she
acquires his arts to a degree which makes her sometimes worthy
to be lifted by the tribe from her own rank into his. Monaletta
reminded Guernache of all these things. She had the most conclusive
and convincing methods of argument. She reassured him
on all his doubts, and, in truth, it was but too easy to do so. It
was unhappy for them both, as we shall see hereafter, that the
selfish passion of the poor musician too readily reconciled him to
a self-devotion on the part of his wife, which subjected her to his
own perils, and greatly tended to their increase. With the evil
eye of Albert upon him, he should have known that safety was
impossible for him in the event of error. And error was inevitable
now, with the pleasant tempter so near his place of
coventry. We must not wonder to discover now that Guernache
seldom sleeps within the limits of the fortress. At midnight,

[figure description] Page 065.[end figure description]

when all is dark and quiet, he leaps over the walls, those nights
excepted when it is his turn of duty to watch within. His secret
is known to some of his comrades; but they are too entirely his
friends to betray him to a despot who had, by this time, outraged
the feelings of most of those who remained under his command.
Guernache was now enabled to bear up more firmly than
ever against the tyranny of Albert. His, indeed, were nights of
happiness. How sweetly sped the weeks, in which, despite his
persecutions, he felt that he enjoyed a life of luxurious pleasures,
such as few enjoy in any situation. His were the honest excitements
of a genuine passion, which, nourished by privation
and solitude, and indulged in secresy, was of an intensity corresponding
with the apparent denial, and the real embarrassments of
such a condition. His pleasures were at once stolen and legitimate;
the apprehension which attends their pursuit giving a
wild zest to their enjoyment; though, in the case of Guernache,
unlike that of most of those who indulge in stolen joys, they were
honest, and left no cruel memories behind them.

It was the subject of a curious study and surprise to Captain
Albert, that our musician was enabled to bear up against his
tyranny with so much equal firmness and forbearance. He
watched the countenance of Guernache, whenever they met, with
a curious interest. By what secret resource of fortitude and hope
was it that he could command so much elasticity, exhibit so much
cheerfulness, bear with so much meekness, and utter no complaint.
He wondered that the irksome duties which he studiously
thrust upon him, and the frequently brutal language with which
his performances were acknowledged, seemed to produce none
of the cruel effects which he desired. His victim grew neither
sad nor sullen. His violin still was heard resounding merrily at

[figure description] Page 066.[end figure description]

the instance of his comrades; and still his hearty, whole-souled
laughter rang over the encampment, smiting ungraciously upon
the senses of his basely-minded chief. In vain did this despot
study how to increase and frame new annoyances for his subordinate.
His tyranny contrived daily some new method to make
the poor fellow unhappy. But, consoled by the peculiar secret
which he possessed, of sympathy and comfort, the worthy drummer
bore up cheerfully under his afflictions. He was resolved to
wait patiently the return of Ribault with the promised supplies
for the colony, and meanwhile to submit to his evil destiny without
a murmur. It was always with a secret sense of triumph
that he reminded himself of the near neighborhood of his joys,
and he exulted in the success with which he could baffle nightly
the malice of his superior. But, however docile, the patience
and forbearance of Guernache availed him little. They did not
tend to mitigate the annoyances which he was constantly compelled
to endure. We are now to recall a portion of the preceding
narrative, and to remind our reader of the visit which Captain
Albert paid to the territories of Ouade, and the generous hospitalities
of the King thereof. Guernache had been one of the
party, and the absence of several days had been a serious loss to
him in the delightful intercourse with his dusky bride. He might
naturally hope, after his return from a journey so fatiguing, to be
permitted a brief respite from his regular duties. But this was
not according to the policy of his malignant superior. Some
hours were consumed after arriving at the fort, in disposing of the
provisions which had been obtained. In this labor Guernache
had been compelled to partake with others of his companions.
Whether it was that he betrayed an unusual degree of eagerness
in getting through his task—showing an impatience to escape

[figure description] Page 067.[end figure description]

which his enemy detected and resolved to baffle, cannot now be
said; but to his great annoyance and indignation, he was burdened
with a portion of the watch for the night—a duty which
was clearly incumbent only upon those who had not shared in the
fatigues of the expedition. But to expostulate or repine was
alike useless, and Guernache submitted to his destiny with the
best possible grace. The provisions were stored, the gates closed,
the watches set, and the garrison sunk to sleep, leaving our
unhappy musician to pace, for several hours, the weary watch
along the ramparts. How he looked forth into the dense forests
which harbored his Monaletta! How he thought of the weary
watch she kept! What were her fears, her anxieties? Did she
know of his return? Did she look for his coming? The garrison
slept—the woods were mysteriously silent! How delightful it
would be to surprise her in the midst of her dreams, and answer
to her murmurs of reproach—uttered in the sweetest fragmentary
Gallic—“Monaletta! I am here! Here is your own
Guernache!”

The temptation was perilously sweet! The suggestion was
irresistible; and, in a moment of excited fancy and passion,
Guernache laid down his piece, and leaped the walls of the fortress.
He committed an unhappy error to enjoy a great happiness,
for which the penalties were not slow to come. In the dead of
midnight, the garrison, still in a deep sleep, they were suddenly
aroused in terror by the appalling cry of “fire!” The fort, the
tenements in which they slept, the granary, which had just been
stored with their provisions, were all ablaze, and our Frenchmen
woke in confusion and terror, unknowing where to turn, how to
work, or what to apprehend. Their military stores were saved—
their powder and munitions of war—but the “mils and beanes,”

[figure description] Page 068.[end figure description]

so recently acquired from the granaries of King Ouade, with the
building that contained them, were swept in ashes to the ground.

This disaster, full of evil in itself, was productive of others, as
it led to the partial discovery of the secret of our drummer.
Guernache was not within the fort when the alarm was given. It
is not improbable that, had he not left his post, the conflagration
would have been arrested in time to save the fort and its provisions.
His absence was noted, and he was discovered, approaching
from the forests, by those who bore forth the goods as they
were rescued from the flames. These were mostly friends of
Guernache, who would have maintained a generous silence; but,
unhappily, Pierre Renaud was also one of the discoverers. This
person not only bore him no good will,—though gratitude for the
service rendered him at the feast of Toya should have bound him
forever to the cause of Guernache,—but he was one who had become
a gross sycophant and the mere creature of the governor.
He knew the hatred which the latter bore to Guernache, and a
sympathizing nature led him promptly to divine the cause. Overjoyed
with the discovery which he had made, the base fellow immediately
carried the secret to his master, and when the first confusion
was over, which followed the disaster, Guernache was taken
into custody, and a day assigned for his trial as a criminal. To
him was ascribed the fire as well as desertion from his post. The
latter fact was unquestionable—the former was inferred. It
might naturally be assumed, indeed, that, if the watch had not
been abandoned, the flames could not have made such fearful
headway. It was fortunate for our Frenchmen that the intercourse
maintained with the Indians had been of such friendly
character. With the first intimation of their misfortune, the
kings, Audusta and Maccou, bringing with them a numerous train

[figure description] Page 069.[end figure description]

of followers, came to assist them in the labor of restoration and
repair. “They uttered unto their subjects the speedy diligence
which they were to use in building another house, showing unto
them that the Frenchmen were their loving friends and that they
had made it evident unto them by the gifts and presents which
they had received;—protesting that he whosoever put not his
helping hand to the worke with all his might, should be esteemed
as unprofitable.” The entreaties and commands of the two kings
were irresistible. But for this, our Huguenots, “being farre from
all succours, and in such extremitie,” would have been, in the
language of their own chronicler, “quite and cleane out of all
hope.” The Indians went with such hearty good will to the work,
and in such numbers, that, in less than twelve hours, the losses
of the colonists were nearly all repaired. New houses were built;
new granaries erected; and, among the fabrics of this busy period,
it was not forgotten to construct a keep—a close, dark,
heavy den of logs, designed as a prison, into which, as soon as his
Indian friends had departed, our poor fiddler, Guernache, was
thrust, neck and heels! The former were rewarded and went
away well satisfied with what they had seen and done. They little
conjectured the troubles which awaited their favorite. He was
soon brought to trial under a number of charges—disobedience of
orders, neglect of duty, desertion of his post, and treason! To
all of these, the poor fellow pleaded “not guilty;” and, with one
exception, with a good conscience. But he had not the courage
to confess the truth, and to declare where he had been, and on
what mission, when he left the fort, on the night of the fire. He
had committed a great fault, the consequences of which were
serious, and might have been still more so; and the pleas of invariable
good conduct, in his behalf, and the assertion of his

[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]

innocence of all evil intention, did not avail. His judges were not his
friends; he was found guilty and remanded to his dungeon, to
await the farther caprices and the judgment of his enemy.

eaf373.n12

[12] Charlevoix thus describes Captain Albert: “Le Commandant de
Charles-Fort étoit un homme de main, et qui ne manquoit pas absolument
de conduite, mais il etoit brutal jusqu' à la férocité, et ne seavoit pas
meme garder les bienséances........ Il punissoit les moindres fautes,
and toujours avec excès, &c.—N. France, Liv. 1. p. 51.

p373-088 VI. THE LEGEND OF GUERNACHE. Chap. IV. THE DUNGEON AND THE SCOURGE.

[figure description] Page 071.[end figure description]

Being the continuation of the melancholy Legend of Guernache.

The absence of Guernache from his usual place of meeting
with Monaletta, brought the most impatient apprehension to the
heart of the devoted woman. As the time wore away—as night
after night passed without his coming, she found the suspense
unendurable, and gradually drew nigh to the fortress of the
Huguenots. More than once had he cautioned her against incurring
a peril equally great to them both. But her heart was
already too full of fears to be restrained by such dangers as he
alone could have foreseen; and she now lurked about the fort at
nightfall, and continued to hover around long after dawn, keeping
watch upon its walls and portal. So close and careful, however,
was this watch, that she herself remained undetected.
One day, however, to her great satisfaction, one of the inmates
came forth whom she knew to be a friend and associate of Guernache.
This was one Lachane, affectionately called La Chere[13]

[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]

by the soldiery, by whom he was very much beloved. Lachane
was a sergeant, a good soldier, brave as a lion, but with as tender
a heart, when the case required it, as ever beat in human bosom.
He had long since learned to sympathize with the fate of Guernache,
and had made frequent attempts to mollify the hostile
feelings of his captain, in behalf of his friend. To the latter he
had given much good counsel; and, but for his earnest entreaties
and injunctions, he would have revealed to Albert the true
reason for the absence of Guernache from his post. But Guernache
dreaded, as well he might, that the revelation would only
increase the hate and rage of his superior, and, perhaps, draw
down a portion of his vengeance upon the head of the unoffending
woman. Lachane acquiesced in his reasoning, and was
silent. But he was not the less active in bringing consolation,
whenever he could, to the respective parties. He afforded to
Monaletta, whose approach to the fort he suspected, an opportunity
of meeting with him; and their interviews, once begun,
were regularly continued. Day by day he contrived to convey
to her the messages, and to inform her of the condition of the
prisoner; to whom, in turn, he bore all necessary intelligence,
and every fond avowal which was sent by Monaletta. But the
loving and devoted wife was not satisfied with so frigid a mode
of intercourse; and, in an evil hour, Lachane, whose own heart
was too tender to resist the entreaties of one so fond, was persuaded
to admit her within the fort, and into the dungeon of
Guernache. We may censure his prudence and hers, but who
shall venture to condemn either? The first visit led to a second,
the second to a third, and, at length, the meetings between the
lovers took place nightly. Lachane, often entreating, often exhorting,
was yet always complying. Monaletta was admitted

[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]

at midnight, and conducted forth by the dawn in safety; and
thus meeting, Guernache soon forgot his own danger, and was
readily persuaded by Monaletta to believe that she stood in
none. The hours passed with them as with any other children,
who, sitting on the shores of the sea, in the bright sunset, see
not the rising of the waters, and feel not the falling of the night,
until they are wholly overwhelmed. They were happy, and in
their happiness but too easily forgot that there was such a person
as Captain Albert in their little paradise.

But the pitcher which goes often to the well, is at last broken.
They were soon destined to realize the proverb in their own
experience. Something in the movements of Lachane, awakened
the suspicions of Pierre Renaud, whose active hostility to Guernache
has been shown already. This man now bore within the
fortress the unenviable reputation of being the captain's spy upon
the people. This miserable creature, his suspicion's once
awakened, soon addressed all his abilities to the task of detecting
the connection of Lachane with his prisoner; and it was not
long before he had the maligmant satisfaction of seeing him
accompany another into the dungeon of Guernache. Though it
was after midnight when the discovery was made, it was of a kind
too precious to suffer delay in revealing it, and he hurried at once
to the captain's quarters, well aware that, with such intelligence
as he brought, he might safely venture to disturb him at any
hour. But his eagerness did not lessen his caution, and every
step was taken with the greatest deliberation and care. Albert
was immediately aroused; but, unwilling, by a premature alarm,
to afford the offenders an opportunity to escape, or to place
themselves in any situation to defy scrutiny, some time was lost
in making arrangements. The progress of Albert, and his

[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]

satellites, going the rounds, was circuitous. The sentries were
doubled with singular secrecy and skill. Such soldiers as were
conceived to be most particularly bound to him, were awakened,
and placed in positions most convenient for action and observation;—
for Albert and Renaud, alike, conscious as it would seem
of their own demerits, had come to suspect many of the soldiers
of treachery and insurrection. These, perhaps, are always the
fears most natural to a tyranny. Accordingly, with everything
prepared for an explosion of the worst description, Captain Albert,
in complete armor, made his appearance upon the scene.

Meantime, however, the proceedings of Renaud had not been
carried on without, at length, commanding the attention and
awakening the fears of so good a soldier as Lachane. Having
discovered, on his rounds, that the guards were doubled, and that
the sentinel at the sally-port had not only received a companion,
but that the individual by whom Monaletta had been admitted
was now removed to make way for another, he hurried away to
the dungeon of Guernache. Here, whispering hurriedly his
apprehensions, he endeavored to hasten the departure of the
Indian woman. But his efforts were made too late. He was
arrested, even while thus busied, by the Commandant himself,
who, followed by Renaud and two other soldiers, suddenly came
upon him from the rear of the building, where they had been
harboring in ambush. Lachane was taken into immediate custody.
An uproar followed, the alarm was given to the garrison, torches
were brought, and Guernache, with the devoted Monaletta, were
dragged forth together from the dungeon. She was wrapped up
closely in the cloak of Lachane, but when Renaud waved a torch
before her eyes, in order to discover who she was, she boldly
threw aside the disguise, and stood revealed to the malignant

[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

scrutiny of the astonished but delighted despot. Upon beholding
her, the fury of Albert knew no bounds. The secret of Guernache
was now apparent; and the man whose vanity she had
outraged, by preferring another in the dance, was now in full
possession of the power to revenge himself upon both offenders.
In that very moment, remembering his mortification, he formed
a resolution of vengeance, which declared all the venom of a
mean and malignant nature. He needed no art beyond his own
to devise an ingenious torture for his victim. A few words sufficed
to instruct the willing Renaud in the duty of the executioner.
He commanded that the Indian woman should be scourged from
the fort in the presence of the garrison. Then it was that the
sullen soul of Guernache shuddered and succumbed beneath his
tortures. With husky and trembling accents, he appealed to his
tyrant'in behalf of the woman of his heart.

“Oh! Captain Albert, as you are a man, do not this cruel
thing. Monaletta is innocent of any crime but that of loving
one so worthless as Guernache. She is my wife! Do with me
as you will, but spare her—have mercy on the innocent woman!”

“Ah! you can humble yourself now, insolent. I have found
the way, at last, to make you feel. You shall feel yet more. I
will crush you to the dust. What, ho! there, Pierre Renaud!
Have I not said? the lash! the lash! Wherefore do ye linger?”

“Do not, Captain Albert! I implore you, for your own sake,
do not lay the accursed lash upon this young and innocent creature.
Remember! She is a woman—a princess—a blood relation
of our good friend, King Audusta. Upon me—upon my
back bestow the punishment, but spare her—spare her, in
mercy!”

But the prayers and supplications of the wretched man were

[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]

met only by denunciation and scorn. The base nature of Albert
felt only his own mortification. His appetite for revenge darkened
his vision wholly. He saw neither his policy nor humanity;
and the creatures of his will were not permitted to hesitate in
carrying out his brutal resolution. Armed with little hickories
from the neighboring woods, they awaited but his command, and
with its repeated utterance, the lash descended heavily upon the
uncovered shoulders of the unhappy woman. With the first stroke,
she bounded from the earth with a piercing shriek, at once of
entreaty, of agony, and horror. Up to this moment, neither she,
nor, indeed, any of the spectators, except Renaud, and possibly
Guernache himself, had imagined that Albert would put in execution
a purpose so equally impolitic and cruel. But when the blow
fell upon the almost fair and naked shoulders of the woman—
when her wild, girlish, almost childlike shriek rent the air, then
the long suppressed agonies of Guernache broke forth in a passion
of fury that looked more like the excess of the madman than the
mere ebullition, however intense, of a simply desperate man.
He had struggled long at endurance. He had borne, hitherto,
without flinching, everything in the shape of penalty which
his petty tyrant could fasten upon him—much more, indeed,
than the ordinary nature, vexed with frequent injustice, is
willing to endure. But, in the fury and agony of that
humiliating moment, all restraints of prudence or fear were
forgotten, or trampled under foot. He flung himself loose from
the men who held him, and darting upon the individual by whom
the merciless blow had been struck, he felled him to the earth by
a single blow of his Herculean fist. But he was permitted to do
no more. In another instant, grappled by a dozen powerful
arms, he was borne to the earth, and secured with cords which

[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

not only bound his limbs but were drawn so tightly as to cut remorselessly
into the flesh. Here he lay, and his agony may be far
more easily conceived than described, thus compelled to behold
the further tortures of the woman of his heart, without being
able to struggle and to die in her defence. His own tortures
were forgotten, as he witnessed hers. In vain would his ears have
rejected the terrible sound, stroke upon stroke, which testified the
continuance of this brutal outrage upon humanity. Without
mercy was the punishment bestowed; and, bleeding at every
blow from the biting scourge, the wretched innocent was at
length tortured out of the garrison. But with that first shriek
to which she gave utterance, and which declared rather the
mental horror than the bodily pain which she suffered from
such a cruel degradation, she ceased any longer to acknowledge
her suffering. Oh! very powerful for endurance is the strength
of a loving heart! The rest of the punishment she bore with
the silence of one who suffers martyrdom in the approving eye of
heaven; as if, beholding the insane agonies of Guernache, she
had steeled herself to bear with any degree of torture rather
than increase his sufferings by her complaints. In this manner,
and thus silent under her own pains, she was expelled from the
fortress. She was driven to the margin of the cleared space by
which it was surrounded. She heard the shouts which drove her
thence, and heard nothing farther. She had barely strength to
totter forward, like the deer with a mortal hurt, to the secret cover
of the forest, when she sank down in exhaustion;—nature kindly
interposing with insensibility, to save her from those physical
sufferings which she could no longer feel and live!

With the morning of the next day, Guernache was brought
before the judgment-seat of Albert. The charges were

[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

sufficiently serious under which he was arraigned. He had neglected
his duty—had permitted, if not caused, the destruction of the
fort by fire—had violated the laws, resisted their execution, and
used violence against the officer of justice! In this last proven
offence all of these which had been alleged were assumed against
him. He was convicted by the rapid action of his superior, as a
traitor and a mutineer; and, to the horror of his friends, and the
surprise of all his comrades, was condemned to expiate his faults
by death upon the gallows. Few of the garrison had anticipated
so sharp a judgment. They knew that Guernache had been
faulty, but they also knew what had been his provocations. They
felt that his faults had been the fruit of the injustice under which
he suffered. But they dared not interpose. The prompt severity
with which Captain Albert carried out his decisions—the merciless
character of his vindictiveness—discouraged even remonstrance.
Guernache, as we have shown, was greatly beloved, and had many
true friends among his people; but they were taken by surprise;
and, so much stunned and confounded by the rapidity with which
events had taken place, that they could only look on the terrible
proceedings with a mute and self-reproachful horror. The transition
from the seat of judgment to the place of execution was
instantaneous. Guernache appealed in vain to the justice of
Ribault, whose coming from France was momently expected.
This denied, he implored the less ignoble doom of the sword or
the shot, in place of that upon the scaffold. But it did not suit
the mean malice of Albert to omit any of his tortures. Short
was the shrift allowed the victim;—ten minutes for prayer—and
sure the cord which stifled it forever. In deep horror, in a
hushed terror, which itself was full of horror, his gloomy comrades
gathered at the place of execution, by the commands of

[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]

their petty despot. There was no concert among them, by which
the incipient indignation and fury in their bosoms might have declared
itself in rescue and commotion. One groan, the involuntary
expression of a terror that had almost ceased to breathe,
answered the convulsive motion which indicated the last struggle
of their beloved comrade.[14] Then it was that they began to feel
that they could have died for him, and might have saved him.
But it was now too late; and prudence timely interposed to
prevent a rash explosion. The armed myrmidons of Albert
were about them. He, himself, in complete armor, with his
satellite, Pierre Renaud, also fully armed, standing beside him;
and it was evident that every preparation had been made to quell
insubordination, and punish the refractory with as sharp and
sudden a judgment as that which had just descended upon their
comrade.

The poor Monaletta, crouching in the cover of the woods,
recovered from her stupor in the cool air of the morning, but it
was sunset before she could regain the necessary strength to
move. Then it was, that, with the natural tendency of a loving
heart, curious only about the fate of him for whom alone her
heart desired life, she bent her steps towards that cruel fortress
which had been the source of so much misery to both. Very
feeble and slow was her progress, but it was still too rapid; it
brought her too soon to a knowledge of that final blow which fell,
with worse terrors than the scourge, upon the soul. She arrived

[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]

in season to behold the form of the unfortunate Guernache,
abandoned by all, and totally lifeless, waving in the wind from
the branches of a perished oak, directly in front of the fortress.
The deepest sorrows of the heart are those which are born dumb.
There are some woes which the lip can never speak, nor the pen
describe. There are some agonies over which we draw the veil
without daring to look upon them, lest we freeze to stone in the
terrible inspection. There is no record of that grief which
seized upon the heart of the poor Indian woman, Monaletta, as
she gazed upon the beloved but unconscious form of her husband.
She approached it not, though watching it from sunset till the
gray twilight lapsed away into the denser shadows of the night.
But, with the dawn of day, when the Frenchmen looked forth
from the fortress for the body of their comrade, it had disappeared.
They searched for it in vain. From that day Monaletta disappeared
also. She was neither to be found in the neighboring
woods, nor among the people of her kindred. But, long afterwards
they told, with shuddering and apprehension, of a voice
upon the midnight air, which resembled that of their murdered
comrade, followed always by the piercing shriek of a woman,
which reminded them of the dreadful utterance of the Indian
woman, when first smitten upon the shoulders by the lash of the
ruffian. Thus endeth the legend of Guernache, and the Princess
Monaletta.

eaf373.n13

[13] The names are thus written by Laudonniere in Hakluyt. But in
Charlevoix there is only one given to this personage, and that is “Lachau.”

eaf373.n14

[14] Says Charlevoix:—“Il pendit lui-méme un soldat, qui n'avoit point
merité la mort, il en dégrada un autre des arms avec aussi peu de justice,
puis il l'exila, et l'on crut que son dessein étoit de le laisser mourir de
faim et de misere, etc.” But we must not anticipate the revelations of the
text.