Strange True Stories of Louisiana
Page 16
XII.
LITTLE PARIS.
[So the carriage rolled along the margin of Bayou Teche, with two bigtrunks besides Monsieur's on back and top, and a smaller one, lent byAlix, lashed underneath; but shawls, mats, and baskets were all leftbehind with the Carpentiers. The first stop was at the plantation andresidence of Captain Patterson, who "offered his hand in the English way,saying only, 'Welcomed, young ladies.'" In 1795, the narrator stops tosay, one might see in and about New Orleans some two-story houses; butalong the banks of Bayou Teche, as well as on the Mississippi, they wereall of one sort,--like their own; like Captain Patterson's,--a singleground floor with three rooms facing front and three back. Yet the verynext stop was at a little cottage covered with roses and with its frontyard full of ducks and geese,--"'A genuine German cottage,' saidpapa,"--where a German girl, to call her father, put a great ox's horn toher lips and blew a loud blast. Almost every one was English or Germantill they came to where was just beginning to be the town of Franklin. OneHarlman, a German, offered to exchange all his land for the silver watchthat it best suited Monsieur to travel with. The exchange was made, theacts were all signed and sealed, and--when Suzanne, twenty years after,made a visit to Attakapas there was Harlman and his numerous family stillin peaceful possession of the place.... "And I greatly fear that when someday our grandchildren awaken from that apathy with which I have alwaysreproached the Creoles, I fear, my daughter, they will have trouble toprove their titles."
But they journeyed on, Francoise ever looking out the carriage window forthe flatboat, and Suzanne crying:
"Annie, my sister Annie, do you see nothing coming?" And about two milesfrom where Franklin was to be they came upon it, greeted with joyouslaughter and cries of "Miss Souzie! O Miss Souzie!" from the women and thechildren, and from Mario: "I have it, Signor! I have it! My prinicipality,Miss Souzie! It is mine, Signorina Francoise!" while he danced, laughed,and brandished his arms. "He had taken up enough land," says Francoise,"for five principalities, and was already knocking the flatboat topieces."
She mentioned meeting Jacques and Charles Picot, St. Domingan refugees,whose story of adventures she says was very wonderful, but with goodartistic judgement omits them. The travelers found, of course, a_charmante cordialite_ at the home of M. Agricole Fuselier[16], and saw alittle girl of five who afterward became a great beauty--Uranie Fuselier.They passed another Indian village, where Francoise persuaded them not tostop. Its inhabitants were Chetimachas, more civilized than those of thevillage near Plaquemine, and their sworn enemies, living in constant fearof an attack from them. At New Iberia, a town founded by Spaniards, thevoyagers saw "several houses, some drinking-shops and other buildings,"and spent with "the pretty little Madame Dubuclet ... two of thepleasantest days of their lives."]
At length, one beautiful evening in July, under a sky resplendent withstars, amid the perfume of gardens and caressed by the cool night breeze,we made our entry into the village of St. Martinville--the Little Paris,the oasis in the desert.
My father ordered Julien [the coachman] to stop at the best inn. He turnedtwo or three corners and stopped near the bayou [Teche] just beside thebridge, before a house of the strangest aspect possible. There seemedfirst to have been built a _rez-de-chaussee_ house of ordinary size, towhich had been hastily added here a room, there a cabinet, a balcony,until the "White Pelican"--I seem to see it now--was like a house ofcards, likely to tumble before the first breath of wind. The host's namewas Morphy. He came forward, hat in hand, a pure-blooded American, butspeaking French almost like a Frenchman. In the house all was comfortableand shining with cleanness. Madame Morphy took us to our room, adjoiningpapa's ["tou ta cote de selle de papa"], the two looking out, across theveranda, upon the waters of the Teche.
After supper my father proposed a walk. Madame Morphy showed us, by itslights, in the distance, a theater!
"They are playing, this evening, 'The Barber of Seville.'"
We started on our walk, moving slowly, scanning the houses and listeningto the strains of music that reached us from the distance. It seemed but adream that at any moment might vanish. On our return to the inn, papathrew his letters upon the table and began to examine their addresses.
"To whom will you carry the first letter, papa?" I asked.
"To the Baron du Clozel," he replied. "I have already met him in NewOrleans, and even had the pleasure to render him a slight service."
Mechanically Suzanne and I examined the addresses and amused ourselvesreading the pompous title's.
"'Le chevalier Louis de Blanc!'" began my sister; "'L'honorable A.Declouet'; 'Le comte Louis le Pelletrier de la Houssaye'! Ah!" she cried,throwing the packet upon the table, "the aristocrats! I am frightened,poor little plebeian that I am."
"Yes, my daughter," responded my father, "these names represent truearistocrats, as noble in virtues as in blood. My father has often told meof two uncles of the Count de la Houssaye: the first, Claude de laPelletrier de la Houssaye, was prime minister to King Louis XV.; and thesecond, Barthelemy, was employed by the Minister of Finance. The count, heto whom I bear this letter, married Madelaine Victoire de Livilier. Theseare noble names."
Then Alix was not mistaken; it was really her friend, the CountessMadelaine, whom I was about to meet.
FOOTNOTES:[16] When I used the name of Agricole Fuselier (or Agricola Fusilier, as Ihave it in my novel "The Grandissimes") I fully believed it was my owncareful coinage; but on publishing it I quickly found that my supposedinvention was but an unconscious reminiscence. The name still survives, Iam told, on the Teche.--TRANSLATOR.