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THE easiest though least romantic way for us of Traumfest to scale the rampart of the Blue Ridge, and storm the magical heights beyond, is to take the train that goes to Asheville. Out of the gorge of the Pacolet, that in the season of flowers and in the right light is a fitting gateway to the imagined world above, the train climbs with the help of two engines, and reaches Saluda, cool and breezy, - a favorite summer resort for the Southerners of the low country, although it has none of those large estates and signs of a courtly past that so charmingly distinguish Flat Rock that lies farther along the way. The village of Saluda lies at the end of the Saluda Mountains, on whose slopes are born the headwaters of the Saluda River that follows down a little valley back of Hogback and Rocky Spur, and whose name, Saluda, or Salutah, means "river of corn," the valley of the Saluda for many miles being, indeed, that most charming of nature's fancies - a river of corn.
Just beyond Saluda the train crosses the becomingly named Green River, and then on, around, and about it goes till the Blue Ridge is fairly surmounted and we are on top of it, as well as on the widest stretch of plateau in the whole mountain region. One gets glimpses of blue heights through the pine trees, and the air one breathes is not the air of Traumfest, for we have ascended a thousand feet, and to the softness of the Southern air is added a fine, keen quality that wakes one up. In time the train reaches Flat Rock, one of the oldest and most interesting places in the mountains, although one can see nothing of it from the railway station.
Long before a train had surmounted the barrier wall of the Blue Ridge, the beauty, and salubrity of the high mountains had called up from the eastern lowlands people of wealth and refinement to make here and there their summer homes. The first and most important of these patrician settlements was at Flat Rock, the people coming from Charleston, the centre of civilization in the Far South, and choosing Flat Rock because of its accessibility, and because the level nature of the country offered opportunity for the development of beautiful estates and the making of pleasure roads through the primeval forest that in those days had not been disturbed. Into the great, sweet wilderness, now quite safe from Indians, these children of fortune brought their servants and their laborers, and selecting the finest sites, whence were extensive views of the not too distant mountains, surrounded by the charming growths of the region, in a land emblazoned and carpeted with flowers, built their homes of refuge from the burning heat and the equally burning mosquitoes of the coast land.
The train comes from the seacoast to-day, but half a century ago it was much more of an undertaking to go to Flat Rock from Charleston than it now is to go to Europe, and much more romantic, for Flat Rock, more than two weeks' journey distant, had to be reached by way of the country roads over which the people drove in their own carriages, accompanied by a retinue of servants and provision wagons.
At the west side of Hogback, there comes up from the lowlands a road that, crossing a gap in the mountains, makes its way over and about and between them, passing Flat Rock on its way to Asheville. This is the old Buncombe Pike, or rather what is left of it, for since the war it has been allowed to fall into disrepair, only parts of it here and there hinting at any period of prosperity. From the opening of its first tollgate, in 1827, this road became the great artery of passage between the rich Southern lands and the new and prodigiously fertile West. Over it passed droves of horses, cattle, sheep, and hogs, as well as whatever produce the mountains and the lands beyond them might have to exchange for the products of the more civilized East, products that in their turn came up and over the mountains to the people of the West. To the romance of this old road was added a charming touch when, with the spring flowers, there came every year that migration from Charleston, like a flock of birds winging their way over the blue mountains in search of their summer homes.
One can imagine these processions of young and old starting out for the two weeks' picnic along the road, a picnic to the young people at least, who one can well believe looked forward to it undaunted by any thought of the possible storms that might put the rivers in flood, and convert the roads, even the best of them, in places, into bottomless sloughs of red and liquid mud, a procession that makes one think of the stories of far-away times, when queens and princesses traveled from one city to another over roads as bad as these. This procession up the mountains had fewer trappings on the horses and less gayly attired escort than did those of the olden time; but we may be sure that the carriages of the gentlefolk of the nineteenth century were pleasanter conveyances than the mule litters of the Middle Ages, and we may also be sure that no lovelier faces looked out from the gorgeous retinue on its way across the hills of the past than could be seen in the carriages where sat the ladies of the New World, with their patrician beauty and their gracious manners. And although the escort of the New World travelers did not number a thousand gayly dressed cavaliers, it consisted of a retinue of those ebony children of the sun, who loved the pleasant journey, and loved their gentle lords and ladies, - for all this happened in those halcyon days "before the war" when the angel of wrath had not yet righted the wrong of holding even a black man in subjection to the will of another, and when the real "quality" cherished their slaves and were greatly loved by them.
It must have been like coming to Arcadia, up from the heated plains, in those days before the forests had been hurt by man, when every stream was full of fish, and the surrounding forests were full of game. Flat Rock, at first consisting of only a few families, soon grew into a good-sized community of delightful homes, and there is still an air of elegance and seclusion about its old estates, with their mansions of a by-gone day set back behind the trees, and there are yet living a few who remember with tenderness and regret the old days when life at Flat Rock was a joyous round of visits and merrymakings, among which costume balls for the young people, and dinner-parties for their elders, are recalled with retrospective pleasure, while the boulevard of the time, the Little River Road, was thronged with carriages and riders, all enjoying themselves in the wonderful air exchanging greetings and making a gay scene in the midst of the wild nature that surrounded them.
One of the most charming of these old places, "The Lodge," with its broad views, its avenues of big trees, its formal garden, its old-fashioned kitchen and commodious outbuildings, was owned and laid out by one of the English Barings, of banking fame, and here, following a certain path that leads through the grounds towards the road, one comes to a gate that appears to be closed by short bars, but when you touch one of these bars, down it falls and all the rest with it, allowing you to pass, when it closes again. It is a "tumble-down stile" like the one near Stratford-onAvon, which your driver assures you is the very one where Will Shakespeare, poacher, was caught trying to get through with a deer on his shoulders.
One cannot help noticing, when wandering about the winding roads of Flat Rock, the white pines and hemlocks there, and that the soil is gray. White pines and hemlocks are the right trees for such a place, where one looks over broad meadows and into apple orchards, and where trees and shrubbery are grouped to please the eye, the native rhododendrons giving a fine patrician touch to the effect of the whole. The box hedges and the shrubberies, the high fences along the roadside at Flat Rock, speak of another civilization than that of the mountains, as does the picturesque church of St. John-in-the-Wilderness behind its screening trees, and it is very pleasant to pause a little in this corner of the great wilderness, set apart and beautified by the " quality " of a past generation.
It was the builder of the Lodge, Mr. Charles Baring, with three or four others, who founded the community of Flat Rock, to which were quickly added the homes of many of the most distinguished men in the history of their state. Among the names of these pioneers in the forest of Arcadia, we find Rutledge, Lowndes, Elliott, Pinckney, Middleton, and many others. Coming somewhat later, as friends of Mr. Baring, were Mr. Molyneux, British Consul at Savannah, and Count de Choiseuil, French Consul at the same place, the beautiful homes of these distinguished foreigners still gracing Flat Rock.
Perhaps the most cherished name in this mountain settlement was that of the Rev. John G. Drayton, for many years rector of St. John-in-the-Wilderness, and to whom the dignified and noble estate of Ravenswood at Flat Rock owes its origin, as well as those wonderful magnolia gardens on the Ashley River near Charleston, gardens where one wanders away into a dreamland of flowers unlike any other dreamland in the world.
Then there was the Secretary of the Treasury of the Confederate States, Mr. G. C. Memminger, loved for his generosity and public spirit, who also had a home in the fortunate land of flowers and fresh air.
And always, when talking to any of the old residents of Flat Rock, comes forth the name of Dr. Mitchell C. King, who, for more than half a century, was the greatly loved physician of the community, and who, while a student at the University of Gottingen, formed so warm a friendship with a fellow student, known as Otto von Bismarck, that, for many years after, a regular correspondence was carried on between the greatest statesman Germany has ever known and the genial and kindly physician of the little mountain settlement, these letters being carefully preserved by the descendants of the doctor. The estates at Flat Rock have changed hands with the passing of time, yet many of them retain their original form, and new estates have been added by the "quality" of to-day; also new roads, beautifully planned, and beautifully bordered with the choicest growths of the mountains, have been built, giving promise of a renaissance that shall surpass in beauty the accomplishment of the older civilization of Flat Rock, and give direction, let us hope, to the future development of all that beautiful region.
A SHORT distance beyond Flat Rock, the train stops at Hendersonville, a gay garden of
buildings as seen in the distance, and where upon arriving one is dismayed to hear the pouf!
pouf! of an automobile. For Hendersonville has recently grown into a place of importance where
summer visitors congregate, and it would also like you to know it is a railway centre. At least,
besides the main line running through it, there is that branch line crossing over into the French
Broad Valley and proceeding up past Brevard and on over the mountains into the Sapphire
Country, that enchanting region where, besides silver cascades and blue mountains, one finds
sumptuous hotels, artificial lakes, and the ways of the world.
Beyond Hendersonville the train continues across the plateau some sixteen miles to Asheville,
villages, from each of which one gets beautiful views, growing closer together. These villages in
the forest, not visible from the train, make pleasant summer resorts for the increasing numbers of
those who come up to escape the heat of the plains. Each of them, of course, is destined to a great
future, and the youngest and smallest, the one that bears the name of Tuxedo, must perforce bear
more than this, for the trainmen in calling out the station prick the bubble of ambition by putting
the accent on the last syllable, when they do not put it on the first.
Two miles before reaching Asheville, the train stops at a place which might cause the
bewildered traveler, if unprepared, to wonder where he is. A corner out of some village of old
England seems to have been set down bodily in the heart of the New World wilderness. It is the
village of Biltmore, lying in full view from the train on a perfectly level space, a charming
collection of houses surrounded by smooth lawns, wreathed in vines, shaded by trees, and
grouped about a square and along winding streets. A church, Early Gothic in style, with a strong
square central tower, is the natural and dignified centre of the village. The beauty of the interior
of the church is enhanced by a number of fine stained-glass windows, one of which was placed
there to the memory of Frederick Law Olmsted, America's greatest landscape gardener, who laid
out the grounds of Biltmore, and another as a memorial to Richard M. Hunt, who designed the
church as well as Biltmore House, the residence of Mr. Vanderbilt, which., standing three miles
away, is not visible from the train.
Coming suddenly upon Biltmore out of the sur. rounding forest, one has a prophetic sense of the
change that is about to overwhelm these so long changeless mountains, and at Biltmore one must
stop and become acquainted with the very interesting development that has there taken place.
First, however, Asheville, the oldest, largest, and bestknown town in the mountains, must be
considered, since some knowledge of its history is necessary in order to understand the history of
the mountains, including Biltmore.
Leaving Biltmore the train soon reaches the city, for Asheville really is a city, with a population
falling a little short of twenty thousand. It lies in the valley of the French Broad River, which is
far too narrow to hold it, so that the town has spread out over the surrounding hills, many of its
houses, like those of Traumfest, standing with their lower regions on the slope beneath, and their
front door decorously opening at street level. The history of Asheville, though not hoary with
age, is yet interesting. Clearly to comprehend it one must retire to the year 1663, at which time
Charles the Second of England gave "Carolina" so munificently to the lords proprietary, the
territory thus summarily disposed of reaching from Virginia to Florida, and from the Atlantic to
the Pacific. This tract was subsequently divided into several large states, one of them being North
Carolina, or the "Old North State," as the people fondly called it.
The Old North State, a territory larger than New York, the Empire State of the North, became the
goal of so varied an emigration that in 1754 a public document declares its population to be
composed of almost all the nations of Europe, and so fast did it grow that, at the time of the
Revolution, North Carolina ranked fourth in population among the thirteen colonies. As the
people increased in numbers, the bolder and more independent spirit: among them pressed farther
into the wilderness, finally reaching the mountains where their energies found vent in fishing,
trapping, and fighting the Indians. The people of the Old North State from the mountains to the
sea have always been noted for their fearlessness and independence, these qualities in no degree
decreasing as the pioneer element of the early settlers pressed towards the dangerous mountain
wilderness.
Beyond the Blue Ridge, in the very centre of the vast unbroken forest that covered the high
unknown mountains, Buncombe County was erected in 1791, so large in area that its people
proudly called it the "State of Buncombe," but which in course of time shrank to its present
dimensions of about four hundred square miles, keeping, however, its most precious gem,
Asheville, as well as the noblest of its scenery, its ancient pride, and its name, which latter has
made it the best-known and most exploited county in the mountains, in the state, and indeed in
the country at large, a county name seldom reaching the fame of Buncombe.
Asheville, if not actually old, is at least old rela. tively, for here stood the first settlement of white
people in the mountains west of the Blue Ridge. This settlement was started soon after the
Revolutionary War, as prior to that time the Indians had not learned to respect their neighbors'
scalps sufficiently to make life among them agreeable, and only trappers and hunters ventured
into this hazardous region, then swarming with game.
The little group of log houses, at first called Morristown, later, by the desire of the people, was
named Asheville, in honor of Samuel Ashe, the wellloved governor of the state, and one of a
family of gentlemen and heroes who loyally defended their adopted country against British rule,
there being no less than five officers serving at one time from this family during the
Revolutionary War. The origin of the name of the town explains the indignation felt by the
people when careless strangers spell the first syllable without the letter e.
The stories of the early settlement of the South are as thrilling as stories of settlement in any part
of the New World; there was the same reckless bravery, the same opposition to oppression, the
same spirit of adventure, the same encounters with Indians, the same defiance of hardship and
overcoming of difficulties, that afforded such stirring material to early writers in the North.
The little hamlet up in the mountain wilderness that thus honored the name of Ashe
consisted at first of less than a dozen log cabins, but those cabins had been put there by the kind
of men who see a city when they look at a forest, and who regard an obstacle, including hostile
Indians, as a happy chance to do something. Since they were made of the stuff that takes an axe
and goes confidently into the woods to hew out a nation, they were also prophets, as witness the
case of Zebulon Baird, a zealous promoter of the interests of the community, who, pleading most
eloquently in the general assembly for an appropriation for a wagon-road over the mountains,
uttered the wild prophecy that his children would live to see the day when a stage-coach with
four horses would be seen in the west, and the driver's horn would wake the echoes of the
mountains! The road was granted, and came up from the eastern foothills of North Carolina some
miles north of the railroad that now runs from Saluda through the Pacolet Valley to Asheville. It
crossed the Swannanoa Gap at the present "long tunnel" on the Southern Railroad, a few miles
above Old Fort, where as early as 1770 a small fort had been built to keep back the Indians who
frequently poured down from the gap upon the settlers below the mountains, and which to-day is
a small village with a railroad station. This road followed down the Swannanoa Valley to the
present site of Biltmore, crossed where Asheville now stands, and continued down the beautiful
French Broad as far as Hot Springs, connecting the mountains with the western wilderness of
Tennessee as well as with the bettersettled eastern foothills. The first wagon passed from North
Carolina to Tennessee in 1'795, and the making of this, the first road in the mountains, is
recorded as marking an epoch in the development of the country, and if the prophecy of Zebulon
Baird was not fulfilled to the letter, as it probably was, one has only to look at the railway trains
now passing many times daily over the route, broadly speaking, of that first wagonroad, to know
that the prophecy was fulfilled in spirit. Zebulon Baird, besides being a prophet and a legislator,
was an enterprising business man, he and another man being the first merchants of Buncombe
County. To be a merchant in Buncombe in those days, when produce had to be obtained,
guarded, and carried on muleback, or over the new wagon-road, which, judging from the conduct
of wagon-roads in the mountains to-day, must often have been a feat in itself, called for the same
kind of courage and skill necessary to a general in an army. And that Zebulon Baird did not
neglect the aesthetic needs of the human heart is proved by the fact that it was he who introduced
the jew's-harp into the mountains, that dulcet instrument which has remained to this day
enshrined in the hearts of the people. The life of the pioneer develops those quaint, humorous, or
sterling characters that make easy the path of the novelist; and the imagination lingers with
pleasure over the picture of George Swain, postmaster, who for twenty years, it is said, was never
absent on arrival of the mail, and who distributed every letter with his own hands! The Asheville
Post-office, that in 1806 became the distributing centre for Tennessee, Georgia, North Carolina,
and South Carolina, probably did not receive letters enough to overtax the powers of a strong
man, and one can see the zealous postmaster eagerly awaiting the arrival of the mail that was to
be consigned by him, and him alone, to the inhabitants of the, to him, known world.
The sterling qualities of the postmaster were inherited by his gifted son, David Lowrey Swain,
one of the most honored names not only of the mountains but of the State of North Carolina. He
was born in a log cabin at Beaver Dam, near Asheville, at the foot of Elk Mountain, in 1801, and
was educated at "Newton Academy,"' along with all the ambitious boys of that day, who came
from far and near to profit by the instruction of the Rev. George Newton, who, as early as 1797,
started a classical school at a place a mile south of Asheville. From the log school-house in the
mountains David went to the University of North Carolina that had recently been established at
Chapel Hill, near Raleigh, then to Raleigh, where at the age of twenty-two he was admitted to the
bar. From that time all the honors within the gift of the people were heaped upon him. Before he
was thirty he had been elected five times to the legislature as well as entrusted with other
important public functions, including his election as judge of the supreme court, which office he
resigned after two years, upon being elected, when only thirty-one years old, governor of the
state. While governor he was elected a member of the convention to revise the constitution, and
in the same year was proffered the presidency of the University of North Carolina, which
important position he occupied for more than twenty-five years. Swain County, taken from
Buncombe, was named after him, and his name is still cherished in the hearts of his loyal
countrymen.
The founders of Asheville chose the strategic position of the mountains for their settlement,
which lay on the natural line of travel between the fertile plains of the new West and the
lowlands of the South, and which took an important step towards fame and fortune when, in
188o, a turnpike road, the famous Buncombe Pike, was chartered to pass from Paint Rock on the
Tennessee line across the mountains to Greenville, South Carolina, by way of Saluda Gap, Paint
Rock lying on the French Broad River a few miles below Hot Springs, the terminus of that first
road whose course has already been indicated. It is one thing to charter a road in the mountain
wilderness, another to build it, and not until more than a quarter of a century later was this great
thoroughfare between the South and the West opened.
Meantime, Asheville had not been standing still, as is shown by the fact that in 1814 there was
built within her borders - a frame house. A great event this, you can imagine, in a country where
the sawmill had not begun its triumphant career. This first frame house was built by James
Patton, whose name is on the honor list of the settlers of this part of the country, and after whom
the principal street of Asheville, Patton Avenue, was named. He had come up into the mountains
from the lowlands in 1792, at the age of thirty-six, and taken a large tract of land on the
Swannanoa River. By birth an Irishman and by trade a weaver, he came to the New World, like
so many others, to make a place for himself, and by the untrammeled use of his natural gifts he
succeeded. A man of sterling worth and honorable methods he developed the resources within his
reach, finally becoming one of the foremost merchants in the little community where the
merchant was the man of importance. We are told that "traffic over the new road was immense,
vast droves of horses, mules, cattle, and hogs being driven from the rich pasture lands of
Tennessee and Kentucky to South Carolina and Georgia," in consequence of which " a large trade
grew up at Asheville." At that time the present site of the city was owned entirely by James
Patton and James M. Smith, the latter distinguished as being the first white child born in North
Carolina west of the Blue Ridge. Only the site was there, however, not the city, for though we are
assured that between 1805 and 1844 Asheville had nearly doubled in size, we know that even so
it contained less than a score of buildings, notable among which was a frame store building in
South Main Street, owned by Mr. Montreville Patton.
The older frame house, built by the elder Patton, was not to be eclipsed, however, for it became
enlarged into the once famous " Eagle Hotel," with the distinction of being the first three-story
building erected in that county so dear to the early settlers, and whose name was to give a new
word to the dictionary, and a new phrase to the political and literary worlds. For although the
county was named after Colonel Edward Buncombe, a brave officer in the American army, its
notoriety is due to one of its own unique children, by name Felix Walker, whole fluency of
speech had earned for him the popular title of "the old oil jug." Being patriotic as well as fluent,
Mr. Walker sang praises of Buncombe County in season and out of season, and, having been sent
as first Member of Congress from that district, he arose to address the House. Here was his
chance, and although he had nothing of importance to say, he ambled on until many members left
the hall, when he kindly told the survivors that they might go too if they liked, as he would speak
for some time longer, apologetically explaining that "he was only talking for Buncombe."
The new road not only gave a great impetus to the commercial development of Asheville, but
brought to the mountains the wealthy aristocrats of the lowlands, who came each summer to
enjoy the climate and scenery of the mountains on the estates they acquired and beautified in that
lovely land, the greatest number and the finest of these estates lying, as we know, at Flat Rock.
But while the city visitors came in pomp up the mountains in the enchanting spring and went
back in the glorious autumn, the merchants of Asheville and the other mountain settlements went
down in the late fall on horseback, their wives and daughters accompanying them in carriages, a
train of loaded wagons bearing the produce of the mountains to be exchanged for the luxuries of
the city. While the men attended to business, the other members of the family enjoyed a few
weeks in the delights of city life, when all went back home again. These visits to the great world
were confined, of course, to those who had been able to profit by the advantages of the situation
in the mountains, where life was yet primitive and most men poor.
But Asheville was moving on, and in 1835, we are told, Dr. Samuel Dickson established there
the first young ladies' seminary, so admirable an institution that there came to it not only the girls
of the region, but also many from the low country. This school was held in the first brick building
in Asheville, described as a handsome colonial residence on South Main Street.
Both the Newton Academy and the Young Ladies' Seminary were established and taught by
Presbyterian ministers, and the first church was Presbyterian, a large and comfortable brick
building, we are told, having been built on a beautiful site presented by James Patton and Samuel
Chunn, where the Presbyterian church now stands. The Methodists began in a wooden
school-house on the site of the present Methodist Episcopal Church. The Episcopalians made a
small beginning, but in 1849 were able to build their church on land given them by James W.
Patton, where the present church now stands.
The Baptists had the hardest time of all at first, but the unflagging efforts of the Rev. Thomas
Stradley, an Englishman who for many years was almost the sole representative of the Baptists in
this region, were finally crowned with success, and he got both congregation and church. But if
the Baptist had difficulty in getting started, their turn came later, for their doctrine so appealed to
the people outside the town, or their zeal was so great, that in a few years practically the whole
rural population was Baptist, or " babdist" as the country people always say.
From 1840 to 1860 was the golden period, as we are told, of Buncombe's history, when comfort
reigned and hospitality was the rule. Big state-coaches ran daily from Asheville to the three
nearest railroad points, sixty miles away, for the railroads of those days stopped when they
encountered the bulwarks of the mountains. Then came the Civil War, when the old order passed
away and the whole South was prostrated for a time. Deserters from both sides took refuge in the
mountains. Desperadoes of the worst sort lived in caves and raided the country. Nevertheless, by
1870 Asheville had grown to fifteen hundred inhabitants, with eight or ten stores, and that influx
of Northern travel had begun which was to give it its next wave of prosperity.
In 1876 the first railroad triumphantly scaled the Blue Ridge, coming up from Spartanburg, South
Carolina, ascending at the south of Tryon Mountain by way of the Pacolet Valley. But this feat so
exhausted its resources that it was ten years before it got from Hendersonville to Asheville.
Meantime, the state of North Carolina, in 1881, built a railroad that, approaching the mountains
from Salisbury by way of Morgantown, followed the course of the first turnpike past Old Fort,
surmounted the troublesome Blue Ridge in a series of curves and spirals and windings that was a
feat of engineering, finally tunneling through the mountain and continuing down the Swannanoa
Valley to Biltmore, where, turning westward, it went on to Asheville, whence, in 1882, the line
was completed to Paint Rock. The town now grew so rapidly that, in 1887, it proudly boasted of
eight thousand inhabitants, and of having become one of the leading resorts of the South,
thousands of tourists coming there from nearly every state and territory in the Union, while
banks, hotels, clubs, schools, and churches appeared as by magic. About this time, also, the estate
of Biltmore was purchased by Mr. Vanderbilt, the development of which was destined to play an
important part in the civilization of the mountains.
Then did the prophets again raise their voices, the guidebook of the day predicting within a
decade or two a city of from twenty to thirty thousand permanent residents, with new railroads,
half a score of fine hotels, hills and valleys dotted with villas, and river-banks lined with
manufacturing establishments of various kinds giving employment to thousands of operatives.
Two decades have passed since then, and the prophecy has been fulfilled with a few extras
thrown in in the way of costly waterworks, electric lights, street-cars, and automobiles.
But the prosperity was not unbroken. For a number of years Asheville was a noted asylum for
tuberculosis patients; then its transient population began to wane, its beautiful climate was
declared not suited to the disease in its more advanced stages, rivals grew up in various parts of
the country, the sick deserted, and the well were afraid to come because so many invalids had
been harbored there. But this reversal of fortune was short-lived, and Asheville, marked for a
bigger destiny than that of a mere health resort, is beginning a new era with a fast increasing
population whose interests are centred there. The prophets who cast roseate lights over the future
are again predicting, and the only mistake these soaring souls are likely to make is that they may
fly too low. For besides the suddenly awakened lumber industry, already representing millions of
dollars, and the many new mining operations that are starting, the fine waterpower is attracting
manufacturers to the mountains, of which Asheville is, and always must be, the centre.
That Buncombe yet exerts her old power over those who fall under the spell of her magic is
shown by the presence of the Vance Monument in Pack Square, erected to the memory of
Zebulon B. Vance, of Buncombe, governor and senator, but given by the people of to-day, largely
assisted by Mr. George W. Pack, after whom the square is named, for though not a native of
Buncombe Mr. Pack has enhanced the beauty and advanced the interests of the county with the
greatest generosity.
New men are coming, and new names are being added to the long list of enthusiasts who have
worked and talked "for Buncombe," but the names of those early settlers, only a few of which
have here been given, are preserved in the streams and valleys about Asheville, every name
redolent of the history of the past. Crossing Davidson's River near Brevard, for instance, you will
recall that the first county court was held at the log house of William Davidson at the "Gum
Spring" on the Swannanoa River. And hurrying down the beautiful gorge of the French Broad on
the railroad you pass Alexander, the principal trading station in those old days when traffic went
on four legs, and was so heavy that Captain Alexander sometimes stood dealing out corn three
days and nights in succession without time to go to his meals.
To-day Asheville takes itself seriously as a city, and you are tempted to grant the assumption
when you see automobiles driving through the streets as unconcernedly as in New York or
Washington. Streetcars come from various directions to a sociable gathering in Pack Square, the
heart of the city. These same cars take you to the confines of town, or up over neighboring
mountain slopes to commanding viewpoints. You go to Asheville to do your shopping and to see
the world. There are imposing castle-like hotels there, modern and handsome houses on the
residence streets, a great many small houses, and outlying districts where the cottages are
occupied by colonies of negroes. Yet you can never make the mistake of supposing yourself in a
real city when in Asheville, for you have only to lift your eyes to see the vast green forest
pressing close about you and the mountains rolling away, peak after peak, to the far horizon.
Besides, in spite of its urban airs there is the ever-conquering sun, shining on Asheville and
drowning the mountains in its sweet Southern haze, there is the balmy languor of the South and
the mellow voice of the negro, to make you feel yourself in some secluded haven of rest, some
happy escape from the turmoil and strife of a city, and this in spite of the census and the
convenience of streetcars.
But to the native mountaineer Asheville is not only a city, it is the city. Deep in the wilderness
the people may never have heard of London or Paris, and but vaguely of New York, but
Asheville is a reality. It is the true centre of civilization. Happening one day to speak to a man,
living near Roan Mountain, of the World's Fair that had been recently held in some, to him,
unknown city, he showed a great deal of interest, but thought the location of the fair a mistake."
Why did n't they have it where everybody could go?" he complained; "why did n't they have it in
Asheville."
The hills of Asheville lie at an elevation of about two thousand feet, and are surrounded by
mountains that stretch away in summits and ranges in whatever direction one may look. That
beautiful form with the dome-like top, southwest of Asheville, is Mount Pisgah, and that ridge, a
little lower and to the left of the summit, is the Rat. " Pisgah and the Rat! " the two names
inexorably yoked together because the two shapes make one group, and the lower of them has a
form so suggestive that there is no escape for it. They are so near Asheville as to attract
immediate attention from the newcomer, who, according to his temperament, is shocked or
amused at his first introduction to "Pisgah and the Rat."
It is Asheville's position which has made it so long a favorite with those seeking these mountains
for their pleasure. From its hills one looks away to peaks and ranges not too near and not too far,
and one feels to the full that sense of elevation and of great sky expanse, which is so notable a
part of the landscape of this region that the name, "Land of the Sky," once felicitously bestowed
upon it, has clung to it ever since.
It would be tiresome to enumerate the mountains visible from the various hills of Asheville, one
looks out upon so many, from the grand chain of the near Balsams on the west to the distant
Craggy and Black Mountains towards the north, but one never gets tired of looking at them, and
in these later days good roads lead away to parks and viewpoints, to the near and some of the
distant villages, and to the artificial lakes now being made in increasing numbers to supply
scenery and mosquitoes to the tourist; for the pleasure-seeking tourist has found the mountains,
there is no escaping that momentous fact, and the mountaineer is everywhere waking up from his
long slumber and beginning as it were to look about him.
There is so much that is interesting in Asheville and the country roundabout that it is easy to
understand what Mr. Walker felt, for, like him, having once started, it is hard, even for a stranger,
to stop "talking for Buncombe."
THE history of Asheville tells in part the story of the people, and in part answers two questions
always asked by the newcomer, Who are the "Mountain Whites," and how did they get here? The
foot-hills, as we know, were settled early in the history of the state, and there was a sparse
population on the eastern slopes of the Blue Ridge long before any one ventured to establish a
home in the mountains that lay beyond that barrier, the first permanent settlers west of the Blue
Ridge not appearing until after the Revolutionary War, in the course of which the Indians were
partly subdued. As time passed, the restless drifting of those people who came to the New World
in search of homes brought one and another to the mountain country, fabled for its beauty,
healthfulness, and possibilities; and while some of these wanderers drifted away again, others
settled down and raised families who clung to the land of their birth, where their descendants are
yet to be found.
Since North Carolina was settled from "almost all the nations of Europe," one looks to find traces
of this motley assembly among the present inhabitants of the mountains; and there are traces in
the names and the features of the people, although the population in course of time became
homogeneous for several reasons. For one thing, it was similar qualities and tastes that first drew
the people to the mountains and afterwards kept them there; also, by far the greater number of
these emigrants came from the British Isles; and finally, the conditions of life in the mountains
was such as still further to leaven all society to the same consistency.
The early settlers came in that youth of the nation when land was free and hopes were high,
younger sons sometimes, and business men of small property who had a dream of possessing a
landed estate and "founding a family" in the New World, the fabled western mountains
powerfully attracting these seekers for fame and fortune, most of whom in course of time were
doomed to discover that owning a tract of land was not the only requisite to success. No-
body got rich in the mountains, excepting the fortunate few who had placed themselves in the
line of traffic that, in course of time, was established between the South and West; the poor soil
was an insuperable obstacle, as were the social conditions induced by slavery. The settlers in the
mountains did not realize their ambitions, but many of them found a home and peace and plenty,
according to the modest standards of those days.
Besides those well-to-do settlers who came to found a family, and formed the "quality" of the
mountains, who are not to be confounded with the "quality" of Charleston, which was quite
another matter, there were others who, for various reasons and at different times, drifted in from
the eastern lowlands as well as down from the North. Most of the writers tell us rather loosely
that the Southern mountains were originally peopled with refugees of one sort and another,
among whom were criminals exported to the New World from England, which, they might as
well add, was the case with the whole of the newly discovered continent, America being the open
door of refuge for the world's oppressed. Hither fled dissenters from all sorts of established form,
from French Hugenots to convicts, a company of seekers who, for the most part, were to fulfill a
high destiny in the making of a nation.
The popular writers, in speaking of the origin of the "Mountain Whites," rather insist upon the
criminals, perhaps because of their sensational value, but one can find no evidence that these
malefactors, many of them "indentured servants" sent over for the use of the colonies, made a
practice of coming to the mountains when their term of servitude expired. And knowing the
manner in which many of these white slaves, wretched precursors of the black slaves, were
procured, without any other fault of theirs than their helplessness, one need not tremble with fear
at thought of them.
The truth is, the same people who occupied Virginia and the eastern part of the Carolinas peopled
the western mountains, English predominating, and in course of time there drifted down from
Virginia large numbers of Scotch-Irish, who, after the events of 1730, fled in such numbers to the
New World, and good Scotch Highlanders, who came after 1745. In fact, so many of these stanch
Northerners came to the North Carolina mountains that they have given the dominant note to the
character of the mountaineer, remembering which may help the puzzled stranger to understand
the peculiarities of the people he finds here to-day. The Celtic element has also strongly
impressed a love of nature upon the people, as shown in their care of flowers and their pleasure
in the beauties of the wilderness. They can tell you where to go for the finest views, and they
know any peculiarity of rock or tree that may occur in their neighborhood.
Emigration to the mountains, at one time considerable, practically ceased when the great West
was opened up and the people flocked thither, no longer drawn to the less exciting region of the
Southern mountains. The more enterprising of the North Carolina mountaineers also went West,
we are told, thus leaving behind the conservative element, another fact rich in explanation of the
people here to-day, and leaving also the less ambitious natures, as well as the weaker ones. The
easy conditions of life here doubtless appealed to many who had not been endowed with the kind
of strength required to wrest success from active life in the New World, some of them seekers
after better things than they could hope for at home, gentle souls who were not tempted by the
glittering prizes to be struggled for in more favored parts of the then unexplored continent. The
rapid growth of slavery no doubt discouraged many, who, unable to succeed in the slave states,
were crowded to the mountains, or else became the "Poor White" of the South, who must not for
a moment be confounded with the "Mountain White," the latter having brought some of the best
blood of his native land to those blue heights. He brought into the mountains, and there
nourished, the stern virtues of his race, including the strictest honesty, an oldfashioned
self-respect, and an old-fashioned speech, all of which he yet retains, as well as a certain pride,
which causes him to flare up instantly at any suspicion of being treated with condescension, this
pride being one of the most baffling things to the stranger, who never knows when he is going to
run up against it.
That the people are, for the most part, of English, Scotch, and Irish descent, their names show.
And what good names some of them are, names that are crowned with honor out in the big
world, - Hampton, Rogers, McClure, Morgan, Rhodes, Foster, Bradley, and dozens more; and to
those fortunate ones, who out in the big world have gained fame and fortune, these Highlanders
are undoubtedly related. The same blood flows in their veins, although they are here, and living
back in the eighteenth century.
Why have they remained in the mountains all these generations? The answer may be found,
partly, at least, in the fact that in the beginning it was too easy for them to make a living, that is,
such a living as contented them. Game was abundant, and their flocks and herds supplied their
own wants upon the mountain "ranges" for practically eight months- of the year. The reason for
their remaining after the easy conditions of pioneer life had passed are, first, because those who
remained were not those who came, but their descendants, born and raised in the wilderness,
inured to its life of want and of freedom, and with no knowledge of any different life. And then,
they were imprisoned in their mountain fast, nesses because of lack of means of communication,
in part the result of obstacles presented by the slave states that surrounded them like an
unnavigable sea; by lack of communication and by the conditions of life in the lowlands where
the black man was king as well as slave. As time went on, they were forgotten by the rest of the
world, which they in turn forgot.
Excepting in a few places where people came a little while each summer for pleasure, and where
the traffic of the mountains passed out, the mountaineer had no contact with the outside world.
Even the coming of the summer visitors, who, in the early days, brought their own servants in the
form of slaves, did not to any extent influence the lives of the natives. To get a living from the
poor soil required all their energies, the mild climate indisposing them to exertion beyond that
needed to supply the merest necessaries of life. And so it happened that for a hundred years or
more most of them were completely lost to the world.
Bad blood there was among them as well as good, and brave men as well as weak ones. The
brave as well as the bad blood sometimes worked out its destiny in vendetta and "moonshining,"
although there never existed in the North Carolina mountains the extensive and bloody feuds that
distinguish the annals of Virginia and Kentucky.
For more than a century, then, the mountain people lived as their pioneer forefathers had lived
before them, retaining their language and their old customs modified only by the slow growth
that comes in a fixed environment, and slowly spreading over the whole mountain region
wherever a " cove " or a valley offered hope of sustenance, until to-day, there are some two
hundred thousand of them in the North Carolina mountains alone. Little villages grew up where
some natural advantage drew the people together, or near where the people from the lowlands
chose to come for their summer outings. So while the rest of the world was advancing in a mad
rush toward some unseen goal, the Southern mountaineer was simply living. The stranger who
occasionally penetrated into his wilderness was amazed at the simplicity of life there, as well as
at the native intelligence and shrewdness of a people so separated from all contact with the world
of action.
When a new tide in the affairs of man began to bear people again to the Southern mountains, this
time in search of health, retirement, mines, lumber, or "business" of various kinds, the
mountaineer appeared as a unique and puzzling personality, more or less difficult to cope with.
Cautious, suspicious of new-fangled notions, and very suspicious of any attempt to "improve"
him or his community, believing that what was good enough for his father was good enough for
him, he stood like a bulwark against the advance of new ideas, and particularly against the
intrusion of the rich and " bigotty " newcomer, who he imagined looked down on him and his
simple ways. Hospitable to a fault among his own, and to the stranger whom he trusted, but
resorting at need to more than questionable methods of freeing himself from the presence of an
obnoxious neighbor, the Southern mountaineer was an enigma to the wellmeaning but impolitic
stranger, who, seeking to make for himself a beautiful home in the Southern mountains, was
perhaps forced to leave the country before the exactions and the implacable hostility of the native
people. If you are friends with the people, all is well, but if you are a mere customer of their
commodities or their labor, then you must match not only your wits against theirs, but your
ignorance against their knowledge of the mountains, with the odds seldom in your favor.
The mountain people are many of them poor and ignorant, but the ill-clad man, who to the city
visitor may look like a vagabond, is not to be treated as such; he knows some things the
fine-appearing stranger does not know, and is well aware of the fact. The mountaineer is very
old-fashioned, so oldfashioned that he values native shrewdness above what he calls " book--
larnin"' ; so old-fashioned that he thinks his neighbors as good as himself, and himself as good as
his neighbors, irrespective of who has the biggest cornfield; and so old-fashioned that he believes
progress to be a menace against his personal freedom, a thing to be combated at every point. His
long-continued, almost communal life in a free wilderness, where every one had a right to do
what he pleased, - hunting, fishing, pasturing, even cutting down trees wherever it happened to
suit his convenience, - made for him the acceptance of other ideas of pt-operty rights peculiarly
difficult. He gladly sold his land to the newcomer whose slaughter of the forests he understood,
but if the purchaser, instead of destroying, tried to preserve the forest land, prohibiting
burning-over, pasturing, and common use of the territory - then there was trouble. Also the
inalienable right to hunt and fish when and where he pleased was a part of the faith of the
mountaineer, whose long sojourn in the wilderness had ingrained in him primitive ideas which
the gradual filling-up of the country did not change, although his methods were rapidly
exterminating both fish and game animals.
But while the new pioneer among the settled natives of the Southern mountains had his troubles,
the native himself, although it may not have been apparent at first, was changing. He learns
slowly, but an idea once established grows and flourishes with astonishing vigor. In course of
time the advantages of modern methods, particularly in business, dawn upon him, when,
sometimes to the discomfiture of his unconscious teachers, he takes a hand and proves himself a
winner in the new game. Indeed, nothing concerning these people is more interesting or more
illuminating than the quickness and success with which they adopt the ways of the world when
once their interest is aroused. That they are honest, intelligent, and efficient workers has been
proved by all who have employed them with discrimination, and nowhere better than in the
development of the large estate of Biltmore, which, the first enterprise of great importance to
enter the mountains, won its way to success by help of the people, though not without many and
unforeseen difficulties, principally in connection with controlling the land purchased.
XIII
ASHEVILLE
XIV
THE EARLY SETTLERS
HTML © 2001, Jeffrey C. Weaver, Arlington, VA
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