Valley of Nacoochee, Georgia, April, 1848.
I now write from the most charming valley of this southern
wilderness. The river Nacoochee is a tributary of the Chattahooche,
and, for this country, is a remarkably clear, cold, and picturesque
stream. From the moment that it doffs the title of brook and
receives the more dignified one of river, it begins to wind itself
in a most wayward manner through a valley which is some eight or ten
miles long, when it wanders from the vision of the ordinary
traveller and loses itself among unexplored hills. The valley is
perhaps a mile wide, and, as the surrounding hills are not lofty, it
is distinguished more for its beauty than any other quality; and
this characteristic is greatly enhanced by the fact, that while the
surrounding country remains in its original wilderness the valley
itself is highly cultivated, and the eye is occasionally gratified
by cottage scenes which suggest the ideas of contentment and peace.
Before the window where I am now writing lies a broad meadow, where
horses and cattle are quietly grazing, and from the neighboring
hills comes to my ear the frequent tinkling of a bell, which tells
me that the sheep or goats are returning from their morning rambles
in the cool woods.
And now for the associations connected with the valley of Nacoochee.
Foremost among them all is a somewhat isolated mountain, the summit
of which is nearly three miles distant from the margin of the
valley. It occupies a conspicuous position in all the views of the
surrounding country, and from one point partially resembles the
figure of a crouching bear, from which circumstance it was named the
_Yonah_ Mountain—yonah being the Cherokee for bear. The mountain
bear seems to be proud of his exalted position, and well he may, for
he is the natural guardian of one of the sweetest valleys in the
world. Its height is nearly two thousand feet above the water in its
vicinity.
But the artificial memorials of Nacoochee are deserving of a passing
notice. On the southern side of the valley, and about half a mile
apart, are two mounds, which are the wonder of all who see them.
They are perhaps forty feet high, and similar in form to a half
globe. One of them has been cultivated while the other is covered
with grass and bushes, and surmounted, directly on the top, by a
large pine tree. Into one of them an excavation has been made, and,
as I am informed, pipes, tomahawks, and human bones were found in
great numbers. Connected with these is an Indian legend, which I
will give my readers presently.
Many discoveries have been made in the valley of Nacoochee
corroborating the general impression, that De Soto or some other
adventurer in the olden times performed a pilgrimage through the
northern part of Georgia in search of gold. Some twelve years ago,
for example, half a dozen log cabins were discovered in one portion
of the valley, lying upwards of ten feet below the surface; and, in
other places, something resembling a furnace, together with iron
spoons, pieces of earthenware, and leaden plates were disinterred,
and are now in the possession of the resident inhabitants. In this
connection might also be mentioned the ruin of an old fort, which
may now be seen a few miles north of Nacoochee valley. It is almost
obliterated from the face of the earth, but its various ramparts can
be easily traced by the careful observer. Its purpose we can easily
divine, but with regard to its history even the Indians are entirely
ignorant.
Connected with the valley of Nacoochee are the following legends,
which were related to me by the “oldest inhabitant” of this region.
In this valley, in the olden times, resided _Kostoyeak_, or the
“Sharp Shooter,” a chief of the Cherokee nation. He was renowned for
his bravery and cunning, and among his bitterest enemies was one
_Chonesta_, or the “Black Dog,” a chief of the Tennessees. In those
days there was a Yemassee maiden residing in the low country, who
was renowned for her beauty in all the land, and she numbered among
her many suitors the famous Kostoyeak and four other warriors, upon
each of whom she was pleased to smile; whereupon she discarded all
the others, and among them the Tennessee chief Chonesta. On
returning to his own country he breathed revenge against Kostoyeak,
and threatened that if he succeeded to the hand of the Yemassee
beauty the Cherokee’s tribe should be speedily exterminated. The
merits of the four rival chiefs was equal, and the Yemassee chief
could not decide upon which to bestow his daughter. Kostoyeak was
her favorite, and in order to secure a marriage with him, she
proposed to her father that she should accept that warrior who could
discover where the waters of the Savannah and those of the Tennessee
took their rise among the mountains. Supposing that no such place
existed the father gave his consent, and the great hunt was
commenced. At the end of the first noon Kostoyeak returned with the
intelligence that he had found a gorge—now called the gap of the
Blue Ridge as well as Rabun Gap—where the two great rivers “shake
hands and commence their several journeys, each singing a song of
gladness and freedom.” In process of time the Yemassee chief was
convinced that Kostoyeak told a true story, and he was, therefore,
married to the long-loved maiden of his choice.
Enraged at these events, Chonesta assembled his warriors, and made
war upon the fortunate Cherokee and his whole tribe. The Great
Spirit was the friend of Kostoyeak, and he was triumphant. He slew
Chonesta with his own hand and destroyed his bravest warriors, and
finally became the possessor of half the entire Tennessee valley.
Years rolled on and Kostoyeak as well as his wife were numbered
among the dead. They were buried with every Indian honor in the
valley of Nacoochee, and, to perpetuate their many virtues in after
years, their several nations erected over their remains the _mounds_
which now adorn a portion of the valley where they lived.
The other legend to which I have alluded is as follows: The meaning
of the Indian word Nacoochee is the “Evening Star,” and was applied
to a Cherokee girl of the same name. She was distinguished for her
beauty and a strange attachment for the flowers and the birds of her
native valley. She died in her fifteenth summer, and at the twilight
hour of a summer day. On the evening following her burial a
newly-born star made its appearance in the sky, and all her kindred
cherished the belief that she whom they had thought as lovely as the
star, had now become the brightest of the whole array which looked
down upon the world, and so she has ever been remembered (as well as
the valley where she lived) as Na-coo-chee; or the Evening Star. The
spot of earth where the maiden is said to have been buried is now
covered with flowers, and the waters of the beautiful Nacoochee seem
to be murmuring a perpetual song in memory of the departed.
That my letter may leave a permanent impression upon my reader’s
mind, I will append to it the following poem written by a Georgia
poet, Henry R. Jackson, Esq.
Mount Yonah—Vale of Nacoochee.
Before me, as I stand, his broad, round head
Mount Yohah lifts the neighboring hills above,
While, at his foot, all pleasantly is spread
Nacoochee’s vale, sweet as a dream of love.
Cradle of Peace! mild, gentle as the dove
Whose tender accents from yon woodlands swell,
Must she have been who thus has interwove
Her name with thee, and thy soft, holy spell,
And all of peace which on this troubled globe may dwell!
Nacoochee—in tradition, thy sweet queen—
Has vanished with her maidens: not again
Along thy meadows shall their forms be seen;
The mountain echoes catch no more the strain
Of their wild Indian lays at evening’s wane;
No more, where rumbling branches interwine,
They pluck the jasmine flowers, or break the cane
Beside the marshy stream, or from the vine
Shake down, in purple showers, the luscious muscadine.
Yet round thee hangs the same sweet spirit still!
Thou art among these hills a sacred spot,
As if shut out from all the clouds of ill
That gloom so darkly o’er the human lot.
On thy green breast the world I quite forgot—
Its stern contentions—its dark grief and care,
And I breathed freer, deeper, and blushed not
At old emotions long, long stifled there,
Which sprang once more to life in thy calm, loving air.
I saw the last bright gleam of sunset play
On Yonah’s lofty head: all quiet grew
Thy bosom, which beneath the shadows lay
Of the surrounding mountains; deeper blue
Fell on their mighty summits; evening threw
Her veil o’er all, and on her azure brow
A bright star shone; a trusting form I drew
Yet closer to my side; above, below,
Within were peace and hope life may not often know!
Thou loveliest of earth’s valleys! fare thee well!
Nor is the parting pangless to my soul.
Youth, hope and happiness with thee shall dwell,
Unsullied Nature hold o’er thee control,
And years still leave thee beauteous as they roll.
Oh! I could linger with thee! yet this spell
Must break, e’en as upon my heart it stole,
And found a weakness there I may not tell—
An anxious life, a troubled future claim me! fare thee well!