The distance by water around the long, winding circuit of the Holston,
the Tennessee, the Ohio and the Cumberland up to the Cumberland
Bluffs was more than a thousand miles. Captain Donelson’s interesting
journal, kept during the four-months’ journey and still preserved
among the treasures of the Tennessee Historical Society, recounts in
plain and modest words a story of heroism, of thrilling adventures,
of singular pathos, scarcely equaled in the annals of our American
frontier. It was a midwinter journey. The voyagers were attacked by
the savage Chickamauga Indians. Their frail boats were swept through
unknown rapids and floods. They had to force their way up the Ohio and
Cumberland rivers. Many of the party perished, some were shot down by
the Indians, others were wounded and ill; but with thankful hearts the
survivors finally reached their anxious friends at the “Big Salt Lick”
on the Cumberland, April 24, 1780. It was a joyful meeting, a reunion
of happy families, long remembered in the settlement.
[Illustration: THE FIRST RESIDENCE OF ANDREW JACKSON.]
The commanding bluff on the south side of the river seemed an ideal
home for the new colony, united, hopeful and enthusiastic. The rich
valley and the winding river added beauty to the landscape. Ranges of
noble and picturesque hills, not far distant, surrounded the site. The
land was fertile. Springs of pure water abounded, and here in the far
western wilderness was planted the new germ of civilization, which
in after years was to grow and blossom into rich fruition. In honor
of General Nash, of North Carolina, a distinguished officer of the
Revolution, the village was christened Nashborough.
And now the cheery sound of the woodman’s axe rang out in the forest.
Cabins were built. The land was cleared and crops were planted. Log
forts were erected, planned after the good model of the fort at Watauga
that had saved the precious lives of the little parent colony from the
assaults of the Cherokees.
A regiment of riflemen was formed, with James Robertson as Colonel and
John Donelson as Lieutenant-Colonel. An independent civil government
was organized and established. This isolated little settlement was
rightly called by James Robertson “The advance-guard of western
civilization.” It was six or seven hundred miles from the nearest
established government. It was over three hundred miles from the
Watauga, and nearly as far from the Kentucky settlements, yet law,
order and justice prevailed.
The carefully drawn articles of the compact under which the local
civil government was organized, indicate the high character of its
citizens. They bore the impress of the true Anglo-Saxon spirit,--the
love of order and equity. They required strict obedience to the will
of the majority. Invoking the blessing of Divine Providence, the
compact set up in the wilderness a temple of justice that secured ample
legal protection to the citizen and the stranger, until the lawful
jurisdiction of the parent State of North Carolina could be extended
over the new territory.
[Illustration: FORT RIDLEY, AN OLD NASHVILLE BLOCKHOUSE.]
James Robertson, the well-recognized leader of the settlement, was not
blessed with the genius and natural gifts of John Sevier, the soldier
and statesman of the eastern section, but he was a born ruler and
organizer, a man full of resources, of lofty personal character and
purposes. Well might he be called the founder and father of Nashville.
His life is an epitome of the early history of Middle Tennessee.
Dr. Ramsey, the historian of Tennessee, tells us that when the treaty
was made with the Indians at Watauga, giving the whites the right to
possess the rich hunting-grounds of Middle Tennessee and Kentucky,
the aged Indian chief Oconostota took Daniel Boone by the hand, and
remarked with significant earnestness: “Brother, we have given you a
fine land, but I believe you will have much trouble in settling it.”
How prophetic were these words! The brave little colony upon the bluffs
at Nashborough, with settlements stretching for many miles along the
valley of the Cumberland, was destined to pass through years of peril
and anxiety. The young warriors of the Cherokees and Creeks were not
willing to confirm the surrender of their favorite hunting-grounds
to the insatiate and land-hungry paleface. Their footprints were
soon discovered in the forest. The settlers were ambushed near their
homes, and were shot down by unseen foes as they drank at the springs.
Horses and cattle were stampeded and stolen. The strongest forts were
attacked. At times the dangers and discouragements were so great that
it seemed as if this vanguard settlement, with all its hopes and
promises, must be abandoned. A number of the settlers yielded to their
fears, and returned with their families to Kentucky or to their old
homes in the East. In those dark days the exalted character of James
Robertson stood out in noble relief. He resolutely stemmed the tide of
apprehension. He would not discuss a retreat. He was the very life and
mainstay of the settlement. “These rich and beautiful lands,” Robertson
said, “were not designed to be given up to savages and wild beasts.
The God of Creation and Providence has nobler purposes in view.” “Each
one should do what seems to him his duty. As for myself, my station is
here, and here I shall stay if every man of you deserts.”
Solitary and alone, and apparently unmindful of danger, Robertson made
long journeys through the forest to confer with the Cherokee chiefs in
the interest of peace. When the ammunition at the forts was exhausted,
and an attack was threatened, he set out in midwinter upon a lonely
trail through the wilderness for the Kentucky settlements, and never
rested until he had returned to Freeland Station with an ample supply.
His return was none too soon. That very night, at the dead hour of
midnight, a band of savage Chickasaws attacked Freeland Station. The
moon was shining brightly, but they crept up noiselessly through the
shadows to the very gates of the fort. They finally unlocked its bars
and were pushing through the opening, when the quick ear of Robertson,
who was sleeping near by, caught the sound of danger. He shouted a cry
of alarm. A shot from his rifle rang out on the still night air. His
comrades within the fort grasped their guns and fired from every cabin
door. It was a sharp contest, but the Indians were finally routed and
driven from the fort.
In the early spring they attacked the station at Nashborough in almost
overwhelming numbers. They forced their way nearly to the gates of the
old fort, located near the present corner of Market and Church streets,
intercepting the retreat of many of the settlers. There was a desperate
struggle for possession of the fort. At an opportune moment, the
pack of powerful watch-dogs and hounds in the fort was turned loose,
attacked the Indians fiercely, and greatly aided in repelling the
onslaught. Both sides lost heavily, but the fort and settlement were
saved.
For long and anxious years the settlements upon the Cumberland River
were in constant warfare and danger. There was no period of peace or
repose, yet year by year the restless march of the western pioneers and
“movers” continued. The colony grew in strength and numbers, and at the
end of the first decade of its history, several thousand thrifty and
prosperous settlers occupied the fertile territory along the valley.
[Illustration: ANDREW JACKSON.]
The village of Nashborough had become the ambitious town of Nashville.
North Carolina had taken the settlements under her motherly protection.
A court-house and prison had been erected. Davidson Academy, that
later grew into Nashville University, had been chartered and endowed.
In 1788, Andrew Jackson, a young lawyer unknown to fame, came to
the town bearing a commission from the Governor of North Carolina as
attorney of the Mero District. Colonel James Robertson was appointed a
Brigadier-General. Tennessee was organized into a State and admitted
into the Union in 1796.
From its infancy as a village, Nashville has been something of a
historic center. It has been the home of a number of men of national
reputation. Under the leadership of Generals Jackson and Coffee, the
gallant Tennessee troops who helped to win the famous victory at New
Orleans assembled at Nashville.
One of the happy events in the early life of the city, still treasured
in our local histories, was the visit of General Lafayette in 1825. He
was received and entertained with joyful demonstrations of affection,
and it is said that he long remembered and often recalled with pleasure
the cordiality of his reception.
Nashville has been the arena of many hotly contested political battles.
The eloquence of Sargeant Prentiss, of Henry Clay, of Meredith P.
Gentry, of Haskell and the old-time orators is still remembered.
The city was the home of Felix Grundy, of Thomas H. Benton, later
the famous Missouri Senator, of General Sam Houston, the hero of
San Jacinto, and of John Bell. The historic and hospitable mansion
of President Andrew Jackson at the Hermitage, a few miles east
of Nashville, in those early days, as now was the Mecca of many
pilgrimages. Visitors are always charmed with the beauty of the
surrounding country. A picturesque avenue lined with overshadowing
cedars leads to the house. Its stately pillars and broad porch remind
us of an old Virginia homestead.
[Illustration: THE HERMITAGE MANSION, RESIDENCE OF ANDREW JACKSON.]
Here the hero and his beloved wife, Rachel Donelson, lived many happy
years, and entertained their friends and neighbors with generous
hospitality. Here Aaron Burr was a welcome visitor, before he was
suspected of treasonable purposes, and Lafayette, James Monroe and
Martin Van Buren were honored guests. In a field adjoining the mansion,
two hundred or more friends and neighbors were entertained at a dinner
given in honor of the election of James K. Polk as President.
Like the home of Washington at Mt. Vernon, the residence at the
Hermitage was a veritable museum of souvenirs, arranged and treasured
by Mrs. Jackson and her adopted daughter. The walls were adorned with
family and historic portraits, the work of noted artists.
Near by, in a corner of the garden of the Hermitage, the remains of
President Jackson and his dear wife lie side by side, under a modest
but beautiful marble tomb, prepared by him for their reception. In his
later years the old General rarely exhibited the sterner side of his
nature. He was mild and courtly in manner. His kindness was proverbial
among his neighbors. He became deeply interested in religion. To please
his devoted wife, he had a modest chapel erected near their home, and
they were faithful attendants at all religious meetings held there.
[Illustration: JAMES K. POLK.]
By an act of the Legislature of Tennessee, the Ladies’ Hermitage
Association, a society of patriotic ladies of Nashville, has charge
of the Hermitage, its mansion and surroundings, and through their
untiring devotion the historic old home and its many treasures are well
preserved and cared for.
The residence of President James K. Polk still stands upon an elevated
site in the center of the city of Nashville. It was a stately dwelling
in its day, worthy to be the home of a President. His remains were
deposited in a tomb of noble proportions erected in front of the
mansion, but some years ago, by an act of the Legislature, they were
removed to the grounds of the State Capitol.
The revered widow of President Polk survived him many years, and the
old home and her gracious welcome added a charm to the social life of
the city and attracted visitors from near and far.
It was not until the year 1843 that Nashville became the seat of
government of the State of Tennessee. The city presented to the State
the splendid grounds upon which its beautiful capitol building stands.
The famed Acropolis at Athens did not afford a nobler site for its
temples. The traveler can see it from afar, and from the broad porticos
of the State House one can survey the winding Cumberland and the varied
beauties of the surrounding hills.
[Illustration: TOMB OF JAMES K. POLK, NASHVILLE.]
Nashville continued to grow in importance and prosperity year by year,
until the shadows of the great conflict between the States clouded its
happy life. The hearts of the people were mainly in sympathy with the
Southern cause. True to the history of the Volunteer State, its young
men enlisted in the army, and its devoted women nursed the wounded in
the hospitals.
Unhappily, Fort Donelson soon fell; the Federal gunboats steamed up
the river; General Buell and his troops appeared on the north bank of
the Cumberland, and in February, 1862, the proud city was forced to
surrender to the Union army.
Nashville became a vast military camp. Federal brigades and divisions
marched through its streets and camped in the beautiful woodland parks
about the city. A cordon of elaborate forts and earthworks was built
along the chain of suburban hills to the south and west. An imposing
fortress soon encircled the stately Capitol building, in the very heart
of the city, and towered threateningly above the homes of its people.
Its battlements and sharp angles, the very porticos of the Capitol,
bristled with cannon. It became the central citadel of Federal defence.
The fierce cannonade that announced the bloody battle at Murfreesboro,
thirty miles away, could almost be heard by the anxious mothers and
friends within the walls at Nashville.
General N. B. Forrest, with his cavalry force, came and threatened
the city for a time, but made no serious attack. Later, General Hood
marched up from the south with a splendid army, reviving the hopes of
the Confederates in Nashville; but the fatal disaster at Franklin, and
the overwhelming defeat of the Confederates by General Thomas on the
hills south of the city, shattered all hope, and left the Union forces
in possession of the coveted prize until the close of the war.
[Illustration: THE STATE HOUSE.]
Ah! those were days that tore the heart-strings. East Tennessee had
cast its affections and strength with the North, and remained loyal to
the Union. Each section of the State had followed its convictions as
to the right, and Tennessee may well be proud of her sons who fought
on either side. Nashville was the home of gallant Frank Cheatham, of
General William H. Jackson, General William B. Bate, General Rains,
General Maney and a host of other Confederates who won honor and
distinction in the Southern cause. Buell, Rosecrans, Thomas, Sherman,
Grant, distinguished generals on the Federal side, had all held command
there.
Happily, peace came at last, and the long-beleaguered city breathed
more freely. The remains of the Confederates who fell in the battles
about Nashville were lovingly gathered into the beautiful grounds of
the “Confederate Circle” at Mt. Olivet. The Federals sleep peacefully
in the National Cemetery not far away, under the kindly care of the
government.
Soon the wheels of industry began to revolve. New life and prosperity
came. The heart of Cornelius Vanderbilt was warmed toward the desolated
South, and a noble institution of learning was endowed in his name.
The Trustees of George Peabody came to the rescue also, and founded
the Peabody Normal College. The Jubilee Singers of Nashville sang Fisk
University into life, and endowed a useful institution dedicated to the
education of the colored race recently freed from slavery.
[Illustration: THE PARTHENON, NASHVILLE, TENN.]
A new Nashville has adjusted itself to the changed order of things
in the South, and is assuming the appearance and proportions of a
metropolis. Its borders have extended to the picturesque hills that
circle the city. Its fame as an educational center perhaps more than
rivals its importance in commerce and manufactures. More than five
thousand students from other sections of the country are included
in its scholastic population, and within the city limits there are
not less than eighty schools and colleges--schools of theology, law,
medicine, pharmacy, music and art. They are the glory of Nashville.
The throng of teachers and students help to give it the charm of a
literary and intellectual atmosphere. Right justly may it be called
the “Athens of the South.” Vanderbilt University and Peabody Normal
College, with their beautiful parks and clusters of fine buildings,
are institutions of which any city might be proud.
In 1880, Nashville celebrated its Centennial in honor of the founding
of the city. It was an inspiring occasion, but the Centennial of the
State of Tennessee, celebrated at the capital in 1896-’97, crowned the
city with laurels that will long be remembered with honorable pride.
It was a revelation,--a noble memorial of a century of statehood. The
dream of James Robertson, the father and founder of Nashville, was more
than realized. In a little more than a century of progress, the camp of
the brave little colony on the bank of the Cumberland had grown into a
splendid Southern city.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
LOUISVILLE
THE GATEWAY CITY TO THE SOUTH
BY LUCIEN V. RULE
Beautiful of situation is Louisville, the metropolis of Kentucky, and
the Gateway City to the South. Builded along the Ohio at the Falls,
the river stretches away to the northeast in a sheet of water nearly a
mile wide and six miles in extent with a scarcely perceptible current,
making one of the finest harbors in the whole course of this “Rhine of
America.” Circling hills surround the city, and the parks upon them
are unsurpassed in this section of the country. The avenues are broad
and well shaded, and while the residences are, as a rule, handsomely
modern, many splendid specimens of Colonial architecture are to be
seen. The homesteads in the suburbs are delightful, dreamy retreats,
and the river valley is as fertile as that of the Jordan.
As the visitor approaches over any one of the railroads leading into
Louisville and looks upon the charming scene just outlined, he may
recall the historic associations connected with it. Here, in the
long ago, Daniel Boone loved to linger and hunt. It was here that
George Rogers Clark, the famous Indian fighter and leader of western
civilization, first won renown. Here John Fitch studied the problem
of steamboat navigation, anticipating Robert Fulton many years, and
so far succeeded that Fulton acknowledged him the original inventor
of steam craft. Here the fathers of ornithology in the new world,
Alexander Wilson and John J. Audubon, resided and labored, the latter
first awaking to a realization of his marvellous genius in the Kentucky
wilds. In this vicinity Zachary Taylor spent his childhood, learned
the art of war, and returned at intervals of peace to reside, after
achieving notable triumphs for the Republic on the hard-fought fields
of Mexico and elsewhere. It was here that George Keats, favorite
brother of the poet, John Keats, came to live, bringing with him
from old England an atmosphere of classic culture and refinement
which influenced the development of intellectual Louisville. It was
here, also, that Henry Clay often came to confer with his political
colleagues, and to charm the people with his superb oratory. Here
George D. Prentice, whose witty, trenchant paragraphs on the editorial
page of _The Louisville Journal_ made it the most widely quoted
American paper in foreign realms, wielded his wonderful influence
as the champion of the great Pacificator of Ashland. Near this city
General Robert Anderson, the fearless hero of Fort Sumter in 1861, was
reared, and hither he returned after its surrender and received the
welcome plaudits of all parties for his memorable loyalty to the Stars
and Stripes. In this city many of the ablest Federal commanders first
came into national notice during the Civil War; and here resides now
Henry Watterson, whose patriotic pen and eloquent lips in recent years
have dispelled the last feeling of prejudice between the once estranged
sections of the Union, and who, speaking for his fellow citizens,
cordially received the Grand Army of the Republic into the South on
their first visit since they left its soil as conquerors.
[Illustration: GEO. D. PRENTICE.
FROM AN OLD PAINTING OWNED BY THE POLYTECHNIC SOCIETY OF KENTUCKY.]
In the evolution of nations struggle is unavoidable, but higher
results ensue: and it is the peculiar pride of the State of Kentucky
that though Lincoln and Davis, the two leaders of the Federal and
Confederate governments while the fate of the Union was being decided
on the bloody field, were her sons, nevertheless her conservatism, wise
counsel and gentle forbearance--beginning in the speeches of Henry
Clay long previous to the late unpleasantness, and continuing in the
admirable efforts of Henry Watterson afterward--indicated the path to
peace and prosperity. The motto of the Republic is “Many in one”; that
of Kentucky, “United we stand, divided we fall”; and it has been the
mission of our State to emphasize the vital political truth that many
commonwealths with widely diverse institutions may safely unite in
the formation of one strong central government; that a multiplicity of
peoples with entirely different interests and pursuits may still be
one in sympathy, purpose and hope. Situated midway between the North
and the South, not only is her climate a delightful mingling of both
extremes, but the temper of her inhabitants is a dignified reserve
and a spontaneous fervor of feeling happily proportioned. Able, on
the one hand, to appreciate the spirit of progress which makes the
North impatient of those conditions and tendencies which the South has
wisely altered with caution; and, on the other hand, apprehending the
principle of personal independence which causes the South to suspect
Northern counsel as impelled by a desire to interfere with individual
liberty, she has long occupied a position similar to that of Tennyson’s
sweet little heroine, Annie, who, sitting between Enoch and Philip,
with a hand of each in her own, would weep,
“And pray them not to quarrel for her sake.”
Scarcely less sublime than Columbus pacing the deck of his ship at
sea and looking wistfully westward in search of the new world he so
faithfully sought, seems Daniel Boone, in 1769, venturing forth from
the quiet valleys of the Yadkin in response to the promptings of
his restless spirit, unconsciously going to prepare the way for the
millions that were subsequently to follow him, and as if by magic
to transform into fertile fields the pathless forests beyond the
Alleghanies which he was the first to penetrate and explore.
[Illustration: DANIEL BOONE.
FROM A PAINTING IN THE POSSESSION OF COL. R. T. DURRETT, LOUISVILLE,
KY.]
Dauntless, noble souls they were who created our commonwealth; and
Byron, fascinated with the refreshing fame of Daniel Boone, which
extended throughout Europe as well as America, celebrated him and his
fellow Kentuckians in a number of fine stanzas in the eighth canto of
_Don Juan_. Henry James, in his life of Hawthorne, laments the lack of
historic inspiration for prose and verse in this country; yet Byron,
sadly turning from the shams and hypocrisies of the Old World, which he
scathingly satirized in his great production, burst into a beautiful
strain of hope as he contemplated the uncorrupted heroes of the new
world beyond the Atlantic. The description begins half humorously with
the sixty-first stanza:
“Of all men saving Sylla the man-slayer,
Who passes for in life and death most lucky,
Of the great names which in our faces stare,
The General Boon, backwoodsman of Kentucky,
Was happiest among mortals anywhere;
For killing nothing but a bear or buck, he
Enjoyed the lonely, vigorous, harmless days
Of his old age in wilds of deepest maze.”
The reader cannot help smiling at the poet’s mistake in leaving off
the final letter of Boone’s name and calling him “General,” when all
Kentuckians, even including the illustrious pioneer, are “Colonels”;
but the spirit of a master interpreter of Nature is in the stanzas that
follow.
[Illustration: GEORGE ROGERS CLARK.
FROM A PAINTING IN THE POSSESSION OF COL. R. T. DURRETT, LOUISVILLE,
KY.]