Legends of Georgia

by

Florine Garner
Lee Institute, Lula, Georgia

Thesis, 1922

Every country has its folk lore...its old heroes; it's stories handed down from father to son, fireside stories told and retold by the mothers to their children. These beautiful and simple stories have formed the romantic background and have molded the destiny of every nation.

There are the old Greek and Roman legends, familiar to everyone, the old Norse myths equally as familiar, the heroic tales of the Anglos and Saxons and Jutes, yet none of these are our very own. For the true setting of our people we must turn to the Indian. The Legends of the Indian are both varied and romantic. In Georgia lived the most romantic and daring race.

The chief tribes of Georgia are the Cherokee, Creeks and Seminoles. There were others and lesser tribes almost as interesting. The Creeks had control of the Northern part of the state, the Cherokees, the lower part and the Seminoles, who were a fierce warlike nation owned the extreme southern part of the state and most of Florida.

To the Cherokee's belong most of the tales of chivalry and adventure. The Seminoles and Creeks, the tales of war and bloodshed. Yet, each alike hold our interest.

One of the most interesting and perhaps as well known is the beautiful story of Nacoochee Valley. Long before the Anglo-Saxon had made his first footprints on these western shores; long before even the Genoese visionary had dreamed of a new world beyond Hercules, there dwelt in this lovely valley a young maiden of wonderful and almost celestial beauty. She was the daughter of a chieftain; a princess. In doing homage to her, the people of her tribe almost forgot the Great Spirit who made and endowed her with the strange beauty. Her name was Nacoochee..."The Evening Star." A son of the chieftain of a neighboring and hostile tribe saw the beautiful Nacoochee and loved her. He stole her heart. She loved him with an intensity of passion such as only the noblest souls know. They met beneath the holy stars and sealed their simple vows with kisses. In the valley, where from the interlocked branches overhead hung with festoons, in which the white flowers of climate and the purple blossoms of the magnificent wild passion flower, mingled with the dark foliage of the muscadine, they found a fitting place.

The song of the mockingbird and the murmur of the Chattahoochee's hurrying waters were marriage hymn and anthem to them. They vowed eternal love. They vowed to live and die with each other. Intelligence of these secret meetings reached the ear of the old chief, Nacoochee's father, and his anger was terrible but love for Laceola was stronger in the heart of Nacoochee than even the reverence for her father's commands. One night the maiden was missed from her tent. The old chieftain commanded his warriors to pursue the fugitive. They found her with Laceola, the son of a hated race. In an instant an arrow was aimed at Laceola's breast. Nacoochee sprang before him and received the barbed shaft in her own heart. Her lover was stupefied. He made no resistance and his blood mingled with hers. The lovers were buried in the same grave and a lofty mount was raised to mark the spot. Deep grief seized the old chief and all his people. The valley was forever called Nacoochee. The mound marks the trysting place and the grave of the maiden and her betrothed, surmounted by a solitary pine, are still to be seen and form some of the most interesting features of the landscape of this lovely vale.

Thesis, Part Two, 1922

 The Cherokee Rose

Scattered over the state and growing wild in every wood and valley grows the beautiful Cherokee Rose. It is the emblem of our state. The following is the legend of The Cherokee Rose:

Once upon a time, a proud young chieftain of the Seminoles was taken prisoner by his enemies, the Cherokees, and doomed to death by torture. He fell so seriously ill that it became necessary to wait for his restoration to health before committing him to the flames. As he was lying, prostrated by disease, in the cabin of a Cherokee warrior, the daughter of the latter, a dark eyed maiden became his nurse. She rivaled in grace, the bounding fawn and the young warriors of her tribe said of her, that the smile of the Great Spirit was not more beautiful. Is it any wonder, though death stared the young Seminole in the face, he should be happy in her presence? Was it any wonder that each should love the other?

Stern hatred of the Seminoles had stifled every kindly feeling in the hearts of the Cherokees and they grimly awaited the time when their enemy must die. As the color slowly returned to the cheeks of her lover, strength to his limbs, the dark eyed maiden eagerly urged him to make an escape. How could she see him die? He would not agree to seek safety in flight unless she went with him. He could better endure death by torture than life without her.

She yielded to his pleading. At the midnight hour, silently they slipped into the dim forest, guided by the pale light of the silvery stars. Before they had gone far, impelled by soft regret at leaving her home forever, she asked her lover's permission to return for an instant so she might bare away some memento. Retracing her footsteps, she broke a sprig from the glossy leafed vine which climbed upon her father's cabin, and preserving it at her breast during her flight through the wilderness, planted it at the door of her home in the land of the Seminoles.

Here, its milky white blossoms, with golden centers often recalled her childhood days in the far away mountains of Georgia. From that time, this beautiful flower has always been known throughout the southern states as the Cherokee Rose.

This small bit of a volume is written by my mother, Florine Garner Thompson, for her thesis upon graduation from Lee's Institute, Lula, Georgia.

The Legends of Georgia

Part 3

At the start of what is now Columbus on one side of the river and Cusseta on the other side, was situated the Capitol of two of the most powerful of all tribes of the Creeks. Beside being equally matched in numbers they possessed alike; proud names. There was not a tribe in the nation which dared to vaunt itself before a Cusseta or a Coweta.

It may have been a small matter from the jealousy of these tribes originally sprung, but the tiny thing had been cherished till, like a serpent each hissed at the sound of the other's name. The proud Chief of the Cussettas had now become an old man and much was he venerated by all who rallied at his battle cry. The boldest heart in all his tribe quailed before his angry eye and the proudest did him reverence. The old man had outlived his own sons, one by one and the Great Spirit called them from their hunting grounds, in the flush of their manhood they had gone to the Spirit Land. Yet he was not alone. The youngest of his children, the dark eyed Mohina was still sheldered in his bosom and all his love for the beautiful in life was bestowed upon her. The young maiden rivaled in grace. While yet a child she was bethrothed to the young Eagle of the Cowetas, the proud son of their warrior chief. Stern hatred had stifled kindly feelings in the hearts of all, save these two young creatures and the pledged word was broken when the smoke of the calument was extinguished. Mohina no longer dared to meet the young chief openly and death faced them when they sat in a lone, wild trysting place 'neath the starry blazonry of midnight's dark robe. They were undunted, for pure love dwelt in their hearts, and base fear crouched low before it, and went afar from them to hide in grosser souls. Think not the boy-god changes his arrows when he seeks the heart of the Red Man; nay, rather with truer aim and finer point, does the winged thing speed from his bow and the subtle poison sinks into the young heart while the dark cheek glows with love's proper hue.

The deer bounded gladly by when the lovers met and felt he was free, while the bright-eyed maiden leaned upon the bosom of the young Eagle. Their youthful hearts hoped in the future, all in vain, for the time served but to render more fierce hostile rivalry. There was more deadly hatred which existed between the tribes. Skirmishes were frequent among the hunters and open hostilities seemed inevitable. It was told by some who had peered through the tangled underwood and the matted foliage of the dim woods, that the Coweta had pressed the maiden to his heart in those lone places and that strange words and passions were breathed to her ear.

The Cussetas sprang from their couches and made earnest haste to the dark glen. With savage yell and impetuous rush they bounded before the lovers. They fled and love and terror added wings to their flight. The strength of Mohina failed her in a perilous moment and had not the young Eagle snatched her to his fast beating heart, the raging enemy would have made sure their fate. He rushed onward up the narrow defile before him. In a few moments he stood on the verge of a fearful height. Wildly, the maiden clung to him and even then, in that strange moment of life, his heart throbbed proudly beneath his burden. The bold figure alone was before him; there was no return. Already the breath of one of the pursuers, a hated rival, came quick upon his cheek. The gleaming tomahawk shown before him. One moment he gazed on him and triumph flashed in the eye of the young chief. Without a shudder he sprang into the seething waters below. Still, the young maiden clung to him nor did the death struggle part them. The mad waves dashed fearfully over them and their loud wail was a fitting requiem to their departing spirits.

The horror stricken warriors gazed wildly into the foaming torrent, then dashed with reckless haste down the declivity to bear the sad tidings to the old chief. He heard that tale in silence but sorrows were on his spirit and it was broken. Henceforth, his seat was unfilled by the council fire and its red light gleamed fitfully upon his grave.

                                                           Part 4

Over a century ago, a bitter warfare raged between the Catawba and Cherokee tribe of Indians. In one of those frequent and bold excursions common among the wild inhabitants of the forests, the son of the principal Cherokee chief surprised and captured a large town belonging to the Catawba tribe. Among the captives was the daughter of the Catawbas', named Hiawassee or "the beautiful fawn." A young hero of the Cherokees whose name was Notley, which means "the daring horseman" instantly became captivated with the majestic beauty and graceful manner of the royal captive. He was overwhelmed with delight upon finding his love reciprocated by the object of his hearts adoration. With two attendants, he presented himself before the Catawba warrior who happened to be absent when his town was taken by the Cherokees. To this stern old chief he gave a brief statement of recent occurrences and then besought his daughter in marriage. The proud Catawba, lifting high his war-club, knitting his brow and curling his lips with scorn, declared that as the Catawbas drank the waters of the east and the Cherokees, the waters of the west, then and not until then, the Cherokee mate with the daughter of the great Catawba. Discouraged but not despairing, Notley turned away from the presence of the proud and unfeeling father of the beautiful Hiawassee. He resolved to search for a union of the eastern with the western waters which was then considered an impossibility. Assending the pinnacle of the great chain of the Alleghanies, more commonly called the Blue Ridge, which is known to divide the waters of the Atlantic from those of the great west and traversing its devious and winding courses, he could frequently find springs running each way. Having their source within a few paces of each other, but this was not what he desired.

Day after day was spent in the ardorous search and there appeared no hope that his energy and perserverance would be rewarded. On a certain day, when he was well nigh exhausted with hunger and other privations he came to a lovely spot on the summit of the ridge, affording himself during the sultry portion of the day. Seating himself upon the ground and thinking of Hiawassee, he saw three young fawns moving toward a small lake, the stream of which was rippling at his feet and whilst they were sipping the pure drops from the transparent pool, our hero found himself unconsciously creeping toward them. Untaught in the wiles of danger, the little fawns gave no indication of retiring. Notley had now approached so near that he expected in a moment, by one leap, to seize and capture one of the spotted prey. To his surprise, he saw another stream running out of the beautiful lake down the western side of the mountain. Springing forward with the bound of a forest deer, and screaming with frantic joy, he exclaimed, "Hiawassee, O Hiawassee, I have found it!"

The romantic spot is within a few miles of Clayton. Having accomplished his object he set out for the residence of Hiawassee's father, accompanied by only one warrior. He met the beautiful maiden with some confidential attendants about one half mile from her father's house. She informed him that her father was indignant at his proposals. "I will fly away with you to the mountains, said Hiawassee, but my father will never consent to our marriage." Notley then pointed her to a mountain in the distance and said if he found her there, he should drink of the waters that flowed from the beautiful lake. A few moments afterward, Notley met the Catawba chief near the town. At once he informed him of his wonderful discovery and offered to take him to the place. The Catawba chief half choked with rage, accused Notley of the intention to deceive him in order to get him near the line of the territory where the army of the Cherokees were waiting to kill him. "But, he said, since you have saved my daughter, so will I spare you and permit you to depart." "I have sworn that you shall never marry my daughter and I cannot be false to my oath." Notley's face brightened for he remembered the old warrior's promise. "Then, exclaimed he, by the Great Spirit, she is mine." In the next moment he disappeared in the thick forest. That night brought no sleep to the Catawba chief, for Hiawassee did not return. Pursuit was made in vain. He saw his daughter no more.

                                                      Legends of Georgia

                                                               Part 5

There is another interesting legend that follows our own Bible story of Noah and the Arc.

Ten miles north of the Blue Ridge Chain, of which forms a spur, is the Enchanted Mountain so called from the great number of impressions of feet and hands of various animal tracks in the rock. The main chain of mountains is about fifteen miles broad, forming the great natural barrier between the eastern and western waters. The number of well defined tracks is one hundred and thirty six, some quite natural and perfect, others rather crude imitations. All of them, from the effects of time, have become more or less obliterated. They include the outlines of human feet, ranging from those of the infant, some four inches in length to those of a great warrior measuring seventeen and one half inches in length and seven and three quarters in breath across the toes. All of the human feet are perfectly normal except the large one, on which there are six toes, proving the owner to have been a descendant of the Titan. There are twenty six of these human impressions, all but save one, which presents the appearance of having been made by moccasins. A fine-turned hand, rather delicate, may be traced in the rocks near the foot of the great warrior. It was no doubt made by his faithful squaw who accompanied him on his excursions, sharing his toils and soothing his cares. One seems to have been shod, some quite small yet one measures twelve inches by nine and one half inches. This, the Indians say, was the great war horse which was ridden by the chieftain. The tracks of numerous turkeys, turtles and terrapins are likewise to be seen. There is also a large bear's paw, a snake and two deer.

The Indians traditions respecting these singular impressions are somewhat varient. One asserts that the world was once deluged by water, all forms of life were destroyed, with exception of one family together with various animals necessary to replenish the earth. The great canoe once rested upon this spot and here the whole troop of animals was disembarked, leaving impressions as they passed over rocks which being softened by long submersion, kindly received and retained them. Others believe that a very sanguinary conflict took place here at a very remote period, between the Creeks and Cherokees, and that these hieroglyphics were made to commemorate the fierce encounter. They say that it always rains when one visits the spot as if sympathetic nature wept at the recollection of the sad catastrophe which they were intended to commemorate. According to a later tradition, it is the sanctuary of the Great Spirit who is so provoked by the presumption of man attempting the throne of Divine Majesty that he commands the elements to proclaim his power and indignation by awful thundering and lightnings accompanied by down-pours of rain. This being, so that his subjects might be kept in awe of him and constrained to venerate his attributes. The rock upon which these impressions were found is an imperfect sort of soapstone, which more than any other circumstances, might be believed to be a production of art.

                                                 Legends of Georgia

                                                          Part 6

Tallulah, only a few miles from here, is the setting for one of the most tragic of all the legends of our Indians.

In the old times people used to dance often and all night. Once there was a dance at the old town of Sakwiyi, at the head of the Chattahoochee. After the dance was well started, two young women with beautiful long hair came in but no one knew who they were nor whence they had come. They danced with first one partner and then the other and in the morning, they slipped away before anyone knew they were gone; but a young warrior who had fallen in love with one of the sisters on account of her beautiful hair. It was the manner of the Cherokee who ask the beautiful girl, through an old woman, if she would marry him. The young woman replied that her brother must first be consulted and she promised to return for the next dance, seven days later, with an answer. In the meantime, if the young man really loved her, he must prove his constancy by a rigid fast until her return. The lover readily agreed and impatiently counted the days.

In seven nights there was another dance. The young warrior was on hand early, and later in the evening the two sisters appeared as suddenly as before. The one with whom he was infatuated told him that her brother was willing and that after the dance she would conduct the young man to her home, warning him that if he told any one where he went or what he saw that he would surely die.

He danced with her again and about daylight he left with the two sisters, just before the dance closed so to avoid being followed. The women led the way along a trail through the woods, which the young man had never noticed before, until they came to a small creek, where without hesitating, they stepped into the water. The young man was paused in surprise to the bank, and thought to himself, "they are walking in the water; I do not wish to do that." The women understood his thoughts, just as though he had spoken, and turned and said to him, "This is not water, this is the road to our house." He still hesitated, but they urged him on until he stepped into the water and found it was only soft grass that made a fine level trail.

They went on until the path came to a large stream, which he knew to be Tallulah River. The woman plunged boldly in, but again the warrior hesitated on the bank, thinking to himself, " That water is very deep and will drown me, I cannot go on." They knew his thoughts again, and turned and said, "This is not water, but the main trail that goes past our house, which is now close by." He stepped in, and instead of water, the tall waving grass closed above his head and he followed them.

They went only a short distance and came to a cave of rock close under Ugunyi, the Cherokee name for Tallulah Falls. The woman entered, while the warrior stood at the mouth. She said, "This is our house; come in, our brother will be at home, he is coming now." They heard low thunder in the distance. He went inside and stood up close to the entrance. The woman took off her long hair and hung it upon a rock. Both of the women's heads were as smooth as pumpkins. The man thought, "It is not their hair at all." He was more frightened than ever.

The younger woman, the one he was about to marry then sat down and told him to take a seat beside her. He looked, and it was a large turtle on which he sat and it raised itself up and stretched out its claws, as if angry at being disturbed. The youth refused to sit down, insisting that it was a turtle. The woman again, assured him that it was a seat. There was a louder roll of thunder and the woman said, "Now our brother is nearly home." While still he refused to come nearer or sit down, suddenly there was a great thunder clap just behind him and turning away quickly he saw a man standing in the doorway of the cave. "This is my brother, the woman said, as the man sat down upon the turtle, which rose up and stretched out its claws. The young warrior still refused to come in. The brother then said he was just about to start a council and invited the young man to go with him. The hunter said he was willing to go, if only he had a horse; so the young woman was told to bring him one. She went out and soon came back, leading a great uktena snake, that curled and twisted along the whole length of the cave. Some people say that it was a white uktena and that the brother himself rode a red one. The hunter was terribly frightened and said, "That is a snake, I can not ride that." The others insisted that it was not a snake, but their riding horses. The brother grew impatient and said to the woman, "He may like it better if you bring him a saddle and some bracelets for his wrists and arms." They went out again and brought in a saddle and some arm bands. The saddle was another turtle, which they fastened on the uktena's back, and the bracelets were living, slimy snakes which they made ready to twist around the hunter's wrists.

He was almost dead with fear and said, "What kind of horrible place is this? I can never stay here to live with snakes and creeping things." The brother became very angry and called him a coward, and then it was as if lightening flashed from his eyes and struck the young man with a teriffic crash of thunder, stretched him senseless.

When at last he came to himself, he was standing with his feet in the water and both hands grasping a laurel bush that grew from the bank. There was no trace of the cave or the Thunder People but he was alone in the forest. He made his way out and finally reached his settlement but found that he had been gone for so long that all the people thought him dead although to him, it seemed only a day after the dance. His friends questioned him closely and forgetting the warning, he told the story. In seven days he died, for no one can come back from the underworld, tell it and live.

Are they not beautiful, these stories of the early life of the Indian? Is it not sad, our conquest of the Indian? The passing of the Indian marks the end of the most remarkable epoch of our history. Do you wonder that with a background so beautifully courageous, we could fail to be the nation to first suggest that high ideal of a Brotherhood of Man? Yes, surely each country owes much to its early legends and the same things that made the Cherokee, Creeks, Seminoles, etc. immortal have made Georgia the Empire State of the South.

Transcribed by:
Loving daughter

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