[So the carriage rolled along the margin of Bayou Teche, with two big
trunks besides Monsieur's on back and top, and a smaller one, lent by
Alix, lashed underneath; but shawls, mats, and baskets were all left
behind with the Carpentiers. The first stop was at the plantation and
residence of Captain Patterson, who "offered his hand in the English way,
saying only, 'Welcomed, young ladies.'" In 1795, the narrator stops to
say, one might see in and about New Orleans some two-story houses; but
along the banks of Bayou Teche, as well as on the Mississippi, they were
all of one sort,--like their own; like Captain Patterson's,--a single
ground floor with three rooms facing front and three back. Yet the very
next stop was at a little cottage covered with roses and with its front
yard full of ducks and geese,--"'A genuine German cottage,' said
papa,"--where a German girl, to call her father, put a great ox's horn to
her lips and blew a loud blast. Almost every one was English or German
till they came to where was just beginning to be the town of Franklin. One
Harlman, a German, offered to exchange all his land for the silver watch
that it best suited Monsieur to travel with. The exchange was made, the
acts were all signed and sealed, and--when Suzanne, twenty years after,
made a visit to Attakapas there was Harlman and his numerous family still
in peaceful possession of the place.... "And I greatly fear that when some
day our grandchildren awaken from that apathy with which I have always
reproached the Creoles, I fear, my daughter, they will have trouble to
prove their titles."
But they journeyed on, Françoise ever looking out the carriage window for
the flatboat, and Suzanne crying:
"Annie, my sister Annie, do you see nothing coming?" And about two miles
from where Franklin was to be they came upon it, greeted with joyous
laughter and cries of "Miss Souzie! O Miss Souzie!" from the women and the
children, and from Mario: "I have it, Signor! I have it! My prinicipality,
Miss Souzie! It is mine, Signorina Françoise!" while he danced, laughed,
and brandished his arms. "He had taken up enough land," says Françoise,
"for five principalities, and was already knocking the flatboat to
pieces."
She mentioned meeting Jacques and Charles Picot, St. Domingan refugees,
whose story of adventures she says was very wonderful, but with good
artistic judgement omits them. The travelers found, of course, a
_charmante cordialité_ at the home of M. Agricole Fuselier[16], and saw a
little girl of five who afterward became a great beauty--Uranie Fuselier.
They passed another Indian village, where Françoise persuaded them not to
stop. Its inhabitants were Chetimachas, more civilized than those of the
village near Plaquemine, and their sworn enemies, living in constant fear
of an attack from them. At New Iberia, a town founded by Spaniards, the
voyagers saw "several houses, some drinking-shops and other buildings,"
and spent with "the pretty little Madame Dubuclet ... two of the
pleasantest days of their lives."]
At length, one beautiful evening in July, under a sky resplendent with
stars, 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 turned
two or three corners and stopped near the bayou [Teche] just beside the
bridge, before a house of the strangest aspect possible. There seemed
first to have been built a _rez-de-chaussée_ house of ordinary size, to
which 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 of
cards, likely to tumble before the first breath of wind. The host's name
was Morphy. He came forward, hat in hand, a pure-blooded American, but
speaking French almost like a Frenchman. In the house all was comfortable
and shining with cleanness. Madame Morphy took us to our room, adjoining
papa's ["tou ta côté de selle de papa"], the two looking out, across the
veranda, upon the waters of the Teche.
After supper my father proposed a walk. Madame Morphy showed us, by its
lights, 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 listening
to the strains of music that reached us from the distance. It seemed but a
dream that at any moment might vanish. On our return to the inn, papa
threw 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 New
Orleans, and even had the pleasure to render him a slight service."
Mechanically Suzanne and I examined the addresses and amused ourselves
reading the pompous title's.
"'Le chevalier Louis de Blanc!'" began my sister; "'L'honorable A.
Déclouet'; '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 true
aristocrats, as noble in virtues as in blood. My father has often told me
of two uncles of the Count de la Houssaye: the first, Claude de la
Pelletrier de la Houssaye, was prime minister to King Louis XV.; and the
second, Barthelemy, was employed by the Minister of Finance. The count, he
to whom I bear this letter, married Madelaine Victoire de Livilier. These
are noble names."
Then Alix was not mistaken; it was really her friend, the Countess
Madelaine, whom I was about to meet.
FOOTNOTES:
[16] When I used the name of Agricole Fuselier (or Agricola Fusilier, as I
have it in my novel "The Grandissimes") I fully believed it was my own
careful coinage; but on publishing it I quickly found that my supposed
invention was but an unconscious reminiscence. The name still survives, I
am told, on the Teche.--TRANSLATOR.