A Trip to Grosse Tete: Sunrises, Crocodiles, and Creole Weddings in 1853 Louisiana
A real letter to the editor from 1853 recounts a whimsical journey through Grosse Tete, where sunrises, soft-shelled turtles, and Creole weddings await.
MY DEAR COMET:
On yesterday, accompanied by my very excellent neighbors the Commodore and the Count, I took a fancy trip to Bayou Grosse Tete. We agreed to meet at a certain point on the Plank Road, known as "Beauty's Bower," precisely at sun-rise—punctuality was enjoined upon all, for the great Napoleon used to say that a man who was not punctual, could not be trusted.
At "Beauty's Bower," the Commodore and myself met just as the glorious God of Day was rising from his purpled bed. The scene was truly magnificent, I may say sublime, for what is there in all this world more grand or sublime than the rising of the sun?
The Commodore was perfectly delighted. He gazed upon the gorgeous scenery with mute wonder and astonishment, and then turned to me and said, "Guy, my dear friend, I never knew before the beauties of a sun-rise. To tell you the truth I don't think I have seen it before in 20 years! and if God spares my life I intend to witness it hereafter every morning."
It is a lamentable fact that but a small portion of this world's population ever saw the sun rise. How many listless merchants, enervated lawyers, love-sick misses and lazy planters, while away the fragrant healthful precious hours of morning in bed, while the powerful god of day is rejoicing in the East.
What a magnificent sight! and how lame are all the colors which art has put on canvass when compared to a glorious sun rise as nature's God has made it.
The Count although a very punctual man, did not sustain his reputation on this occasion. He did not get up in time. The drowsy God overpowered him and kept him fully an hour behind the appointed time.
On his arrival, off we started on the beautiful Plank Road. In one hour we were at the lovely Crocodile, a Lake that in beautiful scenery and magnificent forests—in delicate trout and savory soft-shelled turtle—in sweet Sardin and silvery perch—I say in all these Crocodile can well compare with Erie or Superior—with Como—and even the far famed Killarney.
And then we have in our romantic Crocodile the greatest abundance of a lovely, beautiful animal, known to Natural History as the Crocodile or Alligator. He is an amphibious bird and like other birds has his nest in the woods where he (or she) lays his or her eggs—when small the little fellows are great pets for the ladies. They can be taught like a lap-dog almost anything and are very useful about the house to catch flies and mice and other vermin.
Oh, Crocodile in a beautiful lake—for
"There is not in the world a valley so sweet As the vale in whose bosom the Crocodiles meet, Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the sight of those Crocodiles shall fade from my heart."
Arriving at the Lake we dismounted—pulled off saddle Bags, and each man hauled out his lunch. The kind hearted wives of the Commodore and Count had prepared a dozen nice little delicacies for them, but I poor devil had no body to fix things for me. I sat off disconsolate with a piece of corn bread and pickled pork—where the Count broke out into a huge laugh, kindly invited me to partake of his collatives. The Commodore handed over his excellent claret—with "Voulez vous un peu de vin, Monsieur Guy?" to which Monsieur Guy, replied: "Permettez moi, Monsieur de boire a votre sante."
Breakfast over we mounted our steeds, and in a few minutes were on the banks of the Grosse Tete. This is a beautiful bayou just large enough for a good size steamer—its waters are as clear and as limpid as a crystal fountain, its banks well shaped and grassy and dotted in a most romantic manner, with beautiful Live Oaks. On the Bayou there are many magnificent estates, elegant residences and delightful mansions. Even luxury and good taste have found their way over here. Think not Mr. Comet that this is a wild back-woods region, far from it sir—it abounds in lovely women, who have not been idle. Wherever they go, flowers, pretty flowers spring up after them—happiness, comfort and intelligence follow in their train and all nature smiles,
"Oh! woman, dear woman, whose form and whose soul, Are the spell and the light of each path we pursue, Whether sunned in the tropics or chilled at the Pole, If woman be there, is there happiness too."
On the Banks of the beautiful Grosse Tete there are parks and parterres, walks and promenades all redolent with the fragrance of choicest flowers. In fact I know of no country in this wide world more pleasing to the poet, more inviting to the lover of nature, more healthy to the invalid and more profitable to the planter than Grosse Tete.
Having arrived at the residence of our very worthy Senator, Hon. C. A. Slack, we set down to a splendid dinner prepared by his accomplished lady. Business matters talked over. The Commodore and the Count insisted on returning home. I insisted that it would be a very good opportunity to levy a small amount on the Grosse Tete boys for the benefit of the orphans and widows and propose a called meeting of the "Porcupine Association" and insisted that it was our duty as "good men and true" to do all the good we could, by making further collections. My friend would not listen to me. The Count, poor fellow was taken mal de ventricule. The Commodore insisted he would see him home safe. So off they went home, and I and my friend to a wedding. We arrived after the ceremony had been performed. A beautiful young lady, Miss B-----, of Grosse Tete and a handsome young Creole of St. James were the happy couple. I found assembled a large collection of lovely girls, and a set of glorious good fellows. The wine passed around freely—many a good song was sung during the evening, and many exciting and very interesting plays introduced for the entertainment of the honored guests. The company then adjourned to the residence of a relation of the fair bride, when we had music and dancing to our hearts content. It was a lively, gay and brilliant scene. The beautiful Belles of Grosse Tete looked as lovely as angels, themselves—flitted through the mazes of the dance with grace ease and elegance. The young men are fine dancers and elegant waltzers. I think they excell our best. Brusle dancers, a place that stands deservedly high for excellent dancing.
This Mr. Comet is the way to enjoy one's self at a wedding. I do detest these stiff puritanic gatherings—where every man is on his P's and his Q's.
French after all are the only people who enjoy life as we should.
I was introduced to the Bride by my friend the Hon. Mr. J----. She was a beautiful girl—cold black eyes and raven hair. Dressed in pure white with a gossamere veil, she looked like a Peri from Heaven. The Ball closed with an old Virginia reel, all hands round, set to our partners &c., in which my good friend Mr. J---- did himself much credit. "With elastic step and limber leg" he seemed to wind his winding way around the fair Creoles in the Parisian style. Gayety and mirth were the order of the evening and maid or matron Belle and Beau, and all enjoyed themselves to their hearts content. God bless the pretty girls of Grosse Tete. The Ball closed and we parted to meet again on Crocodile, when I have promised them a most cordial and hearty welcome by the handsome and dashing Beaux of East and West Baton Rouge.
Adieu. Your friend,
GUY MANNERING June 3d, 1853.
Editor’s Note:
Though it reads like a fanciful modern parody, this is a true historical letter to the editor published in The Weekly Comet, Baton Rouge, June 5, 1853. The entire piece has been transcribed word-for-word from the original newspaper. Sometimes history needs no embellishment.
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