has ever lived in America; certainly North Carolina never produced
his equal in this respect. His wonderful memory, combined with great
industry, was stimulated by a genuine love of genealogical studies.
Almost the first question he would ask a student on meeting him,
if indeed he did not already know, was, "Who is your father?" On
being told, by a few quick questions he would possess himself of
the boy's lineage, and would never forget it. Generally, however,
the boys would be utterly astounded on presenting themselves, to
find that the Governor knew more of them and their families than
they did themselves. It was equally so with all strangers whom he
met, and frequently ludicrous scenes resulted from his insatiable
desire to trace pedigree. Whilst a delegate from this State to the
Montgomery Convention, which organized the Confederacy in 1861, he
was introduced to a distinguished gentleman, and without letting go
his hand, which he took to shake, he stopped in the midst of the
flow of ceremonious speech, and, to the no small amusement of the
bystanders, said: "Sir, was not your mother's maiden name Jones?"
I doubt if there is a single family on the Atlantic coast, whose
members have borne any prominent part in the affairs of the country,
in regard to which he did not have more or less of information--at
least, he could have told all about its leading representatives.
With a very little help indeed he could have supplied a "Doomsday
Book" of North Carolina, more accurate by far than that of the
Conqueror. It was generally understood at Chapel Hill that if you
wanted to know _what anything was_, you went to Dr. Mitchell; if you
wanted to know _who anybody was_, you went to Governor Swain.
And as he never forgot face, or name, or lineage of the man once
known to him, so he never forgot a kindness or a favor once done
to him or his, and loved to continue such memories, and extend the
chain of friendship to second and third generations. "Thine own, and
thy father's friend forsake not," was one of his favorite maxims.
He was utterly incapable of resisting an appeal for mercy, or a
tale of distress. This was, I believe, the only objection urged
against his conduct on the bench--his leniency to criminals. So too
arose the only serious trouble he ever had with the Trustees of
the University. Stringent measures had been resolved upon by the
Board towards dissipation and insubordination among the students,
which were not rigidly enforced by Governor Swain. So great was his
forbearance with the hot blood of youth, and so strong his faith
that time would cure these early follies, and enable the better
natures of the young men to assert themselves, that he suffered the
Draconian code of the Trustees to lie dormant, whilst he lectured,
reproved, and exhorted. He shrank from branding the opening years
of a young life with sentence of dismission or expulsion, and would
condescend to an erring boy while there remained the last hope
of reform. In such cases his judgment not unfrequently came into
conflict with the opinions of other members of the faculty, and
finally so irritated the Trustees that they passed a resolution
of censure upon him, which was publicly read from the platform of
the chapel by no less a personage than Governor Iredell. Quite a
scene was excited on this occasion, and when Governor Swain arose
and replied in his own vindication, it was with much emotion,
not unmingled with indignation; "More," says Mr. Cameron, who was
present, "than I ever knew him to exhibit on any occasion, before or
since."
The lapse of time has shown this policy to have been the best
and wisest not only for the young men themselves, but for the
institution, and for his own fame. Who of all the hundreds to whom
he thus stood in the attitude of a father, kind, and long-suffering,
and hopeful, but now recalls him with affection and gratitude; how
many a one remembers his college-life at Chapel Hill as the turning
point of his career, where he was won by undeserved kindness to
paths of honor, not repelled by judicial severity, and feels in his
heart that under God he owes all that he has of fortune, friends or
fame to the University and its wise head!
While the Governor remained in political life his extraordinary
memory of persons and names and events gave him a wonderful
advantage. There is no more successful way of making one's self
agreeable to the multitude than by knowing men when you meet them,
and calling them by name. Not to recognize a man who has stood your
friend, and fought your battles at the polls, is always an omission
of evil omen in his eyes, and a bad memory for names will not always
apologize for what seems to be neglect. Many and many are the shifts
of the politician to avoid this fatal predicament. But I venture to
say that Governor Swain was never caught in such a way. Once being
introduced, he never forgot his man, nor his family connections.
After the surrender of General Lee in 1865, when General Sherman had
begun his march upon Raleigh, at the earnest request of Mr. B.F.
Moore and Mr. Kenneth Rayner, I sent an embassy to meet the federal
commander, and obtain what terms were possible for the surrender of
the capital of the State.
Having confidence in their firmness and discretion, I selected
Governors Swain and Graham, who left in a few moments after their
appointment, on a special train, accompanied by Dr. Edward Warren,
Surgeon-General of the State. I remarked, after their departure with
my letter, as one reason for selecting him, that I had no doubt
Governor Swain would find plenty of acquaintances in the enemy's
camp, or at least would prove that he knew the fathers of many
of the officers. And so it was; on his arrival at headquarters,
he not only claimed General Sherman as an old correspondent, and
fellow-college-president, but immediately seized upon two or three
members of the staff whose parents and pedigree he knew, and was
soon at home among them.
And here perhaps it is not improper in me to correct a statement
made by General Sherman in his memoirs in relation to this embassy.
Referring to it, that General says: "They had come with a flag of
truce, to which they were not entitled; still, in the interests
of peace, I respected it, and permitted them to return to Raleigh
with their locomotive, to assure the Governor of the State and
the people, that the war was substantially over, and that I
wanted the civil authorities to remain in the execution of their
office till the pleasure of the President could be ascertained.
On reaching Raleigh I found these same gentlemen with Messrs.
Bragg, Badger, Holden and others, but Governor Vance had fled, and
could not be prevailed on to return, because he feared arrest and
imprisonment." This statement is uncandid, not to say untruthful,
by implication at least. These gentlemen _had_ a right to the flag
of truce, for it was sent with the consent and by permission of
General Hardee, commanding the Confederate forces in the absence
of General Johnston, and should not have been permitted to enter
the enemy's lines if the bearers were not entitled to carry it.
It was _not_ respected, for it was fired upon by Kilpatrick's
men, and "captured," as they claimed, and the gentlemen composing
the embassy were promptly and skillfully robbed of their surplus
personalty, and were conducted as "_prisoners_" to General Sherman's
headquarters. They were _not_ permitted promptly, as the statement
implies, to return with their locomotive, with assurances of peace
and protection, but were detained there the entire day and night
after their arrival within Sherman's lines, until he no doubt
knew that Raleigh was entirely uncovered by Johnston's troops. Of
course, all the officers of the State government who did not wish
to surrender at discretion, left with the Confederate troops, for,
the embassy not returning, and no news of its fate, except that
it had been captured, and no reply to my letter being received,
they had no assurance of protection. Governor Swain states in his
address at the opening of Tucker Hall that on the return of the
embassy that memorable morning, but a few minutes in advance of
the Federal troops, the city was shrouded in silence and gloom,
except for the presence of a few marauding stragglers from Wheeler's
cavalry, showing conclusively that the city was uncovered when he
arrived with Sherman's message. It was some days afterwards, and
at Hillsborough, when I learned from Governor Graham the result of
his mission, and it was then far too late for me, consistently with
other duties, to accept of Sherman's offer of protection, had any
one convinced me that it was best to do so, which indeed no one did.
My inclinations, I confess, were to be with that little army, fully
one-third of whom were North Carolinians, until they laid down their
arms. I am happy to reflect that I shared their fate to the last.
This much to vindicate the truth of history. Throughout this whole
transaction, as many gentlemen have testified to me, Governor
Swain's bearing was, in the highest degree, courageous, discreet,
and manly.
During the war his efforts had mainly been directed to keeping the
college alive, for such was the impetuosity with which the call to
arms was obeyed, that of the eighty members, of which the freshman
class consisted in 1860, but _one_ (in delicate health) remained
to pursue his studies. (Of the senior class of that date not one
had remained out of the army, and fully one-fourth of them fell
in battle.) Seven members of the faculty volunteered, and of them
_five_ returned no more.
Governor Swain appealed to the Confederate Government more than once
to prevent the handful of college boys left from being drafted.
President Davis himself seconded these efforts in the earlier years
of the war, declaring that "the _seed-corn_ should not be ground
up." But as the exigencies of the country increased, this wisdom
was lost sight of, the collegians were again and again called upon,
till at the time of Lee's surrender there were but about a dozen
here, still keeping up the name and forms of a college. But even
while the village and University were occupied by four thousand
Michigan cavalry, the old bell was rung daily, prayers were held,
and the University was _kept going_. The Governor took a pride in
this, and hoped that he was to tell it many years after. But this
long and useful life, devoted to the best interests of his country
and his age, was nearing its close. Only three years yet remained to
him, and these were devoted by him to earnest, unceasing endeavors
to reinstate the University pecuniarily, and to recall its former
patronage. Darker days, however, were in store for it, which he in
the good providence of God was not to be permitted to see.
In the summer of 1868, the State passing under a new Constitution,
and an entire change of government, the University also fell into
new hands, whose first action was to request the resignation of
the president and faculty, most of whom had grown grey in service
to the State. A guard of negroes were sent to take possession,
and these halls were closed. Governor Swain was then preparing
for a visit to Buncombe. On the 11th day of August, while driving
in the neighborhood of Chapel Hill, with Professor Fetter, he was
thrown from the buggy, and brought home painfully, but as was then
supposed, not seriously injured. Confined to his bed for about two
weeks, he appeared to be recovering, when on the morning of the 27th
he suddenly fainted, and expired without pain.
He was in the full possession of all his faculties up to the last
moment, and died at peace with all the world; a fitting close to a
life of beneficence and integrity. There is a melancholy coincidence
in the manner of his death with that of his two oldest friends and
colaborers in the faculty who had preceded him over the river, and
were "resting under the shade of the trees." Dr. Elisha Mitchell
perished by falling down a precipice in the cataracts of the Black
Mountain, June 27, 1857. Dr. James Phillips sank down suddenly on
the rostrum while in the act of conducting morning prayers, and died
without a struggle, March 14, 1867. Thus all of these eminent men,
worthy servants of Christianity and civilization, died suddenly, or
with some degree of violence.
A just estimate of the talents and character of Governor Swain,
for reasons already indicated, is not easily made plain to popular
apprehension. By the world the term "great" is variously applied,
and misapplied. It is often withheld when it is mostly richly
deserved; not, because of the injustice of contemporaries, for
personal prejudice rarely outlives a generation, but because men
rarely appreciate the full extent and character of the labors of
a lifetime. And especially is this true when that life has been
mainly spent in the planting of moral seeds below the surface,
which, perhaps for years, make no great show of the harvest which is
sure to come. Generations are sometimes required to elapse before
the world can see the golden sheaves which cover and adorn the
landscape, the result of that patient and judicious planting.
They who in life are followed by the noisy plaudits of the crowd,
who fill the largest space in the eyes of their contemporaries,
and seem to tower far above their fellows, are not always found
to have their reputation built on the securest foundations, nor
to have left their mark on the age in which they lived. Erasmus
was esteemed by his generation a much greater man than Luther. He
was one of the most remarkable men of his century, few indeed have
equaled him in keenness of intellect, and in depth and extent of
learning. Yet, viewed now in the light of their labors, and the
value and significance of their impression on the world, what a
veritable shadow he was by the side of the plainer, less learned,
but downright monk! Erasmus is known to the scholars who search for
his name and works in the cyclopædias; the name and the spirit of
Luther pervade and affect the civilization of the whole world.
On the 21st of February, 1677, there died in a small house in
the Hague a man whose greatness could not be measured, says his
biographer, until humanity had moved to the proper prospective point
at the distance of more than a century. The view enlarged as time
rolled on, as it does to men climbing high mountains; in 1877, the
world agrees to number him among the undoubted sons of genius, and
benefactors of mankind. His admirers erect a monument to his memory
just two hundred years after his death in the same city where he
was persecuted, excommunicated, and his works destroyed. His name
was Spinoza. Modest, and pure, and upright, he had the misfortune
to live two hundred years before his age, and to put forth fruits
of genius which his fellows could not comprehend, and so they
stamped him and them into dust as being unorthodox. Two centuries
of progress have brought the world up to where Spinoza died, and it
builds him a monument. At last, his work is seen.
The Earl of Murray, Lord Regent of Scotland, was not esteemed a
great man in his day. His behavior was modest, his abilities were
apparently but moderate, and for more than two hundred years he has
figured in history as an ordinary man, overlaid by the more violent
and intriguing spirits of his time, and his character obscured and
distorted by the glamour which surrounds the name of his beauteous
but abandoned sister and murderess, Queen Mary. And yet when two
centuries afterwards the spirit of philosophic history comes to
trace cause and effect, and to show the result of his life's work
upon Protestant Christianity, and what he contributed to the
domination of the English-speaking races, we agree at once with Mr.
Froude that he was in truth one of the best and greatest of men, a
benefactor of mankind.
And so it may be said of Bunyan, of Wesley, and of many more, whose
beginnings were esteemed but of small account, but whose fame has
continually grown brighter and brighter, as the world has been
forced to see how wisely they builded.
In many senses of the term Governor Swain was not a great man.
As an author, though a man of letters, he neither achieved nor
attempted anything lasting. As a politician, though he rose rapidly
to the highest honors of his native State, he did not strikingly
impress himself upon his times by any great speech, nor by any
grand stroke of policy. In this respect he was inferior to many of
his contemporaries who constituted, perhaps, the brightest cluster
of names in our annals. As a lawyer and a judge, he occupied
comparatively about the same position; and as a scholar he was not
to be distinguished, being inferior to several of his colaborers
in the University. But in many things he was entitled to be called
great, if we mean by that term that he so used the faculties he
possessed that he raised himself beyond and above the great mass of
his fellows. In him there was a rounded fullness of the qualities,
intellectual and moral, which constitute the excellence of manhood,
in a degree never excelled by any citizen of North Carolina whom I
have personally known, except by William A. Graham. If there was
in Swain no one grand quality of intellect which lifted him out of
comparison with any but the demigods of our race, neither was there
any element so wanting as to sink him into or below the common mass.
If there were in him no Himalayan peaks of genius, piercing into the
regions of everlasting frost and ice, neither were there any yawning
chasms or slimy pools below the tide-waters of mediocrity. He rose
from the plain of his fellow-men like the Alleghanies, in whose
bosom he was born, by regular and easy gradations--so easy that you
know not how high you are until you turn to gaze backward--every
step surrounded by beauty and fertility--until he rested high over
all the land. If there be those who singly tower above him in gifts,
or attainments, or distinctions, there are none whom as a whole
we can contemplate with more interest, affection, and admiration;
none whose work for North Carolina will prove to be more valuable,
or more lasting, or more important to future generations; none to
whom, at the great final review, the greeting may be more heartily
addressed: "_Servant of God, well done!_"
No estimate of Governor Swain's walk through life should omit the
consideration of his Christian character. It was especially marked
by catholicity of feeling towards all good men of whatever name. He
was accustomed to refer this to the circumstances of his bringing
up. He would say: "My father was a Presbyterian elder, and an
Arminian; my mother was a Methodist and a Calvinist, who loved and
studied Scott's commentary. Their house was the home for preachers
of all sorts west of the Blue Ridge. Bishop Asbury blessed me when
a child. Mr. Newton, a Presbyterian, taught me when a boy, and
Humphrey Posey, a Baptist, used to pray for me when a youth. So I
love all who show that they are Christians."
On his death-bed he spoke often of the communion of saints with,
one another, and with their Head. He was a decided Presbyterian,
however; he admired what he called "the symmetry" of the
ecclesiastical system of his church; he dwelt on its history with
great delight, and was accustomed to find support for his soul in
times of deep distress in its interpretations of the Bible. He
was a praying man, and not ashamed to be known as such. He first
introduced the practice of opening the regular meetings of the
faculty with prayer. The night before he died he said of the Lord's
Prayer: "The oftener I use it the more precious it is to me; it
contains a whole body of divinity."
In private life he was most upright, kind, social, and hospitable.
An excellent financier, he left a handsome estate, even "after the
war." He had a proper conception of the value of wealth, and all his
life practiced a judicious economy, but he knew well both how to
lend and how to give. His conversation was delightfully interesting
and instructive, replete with anecdote, genial humor, historical
incident, or literary quotation. Few men of his associates equaled
him in these respects, even after the infirmity of deafness had cut
him off from much social enjoyment.
His remains lie buried in Oakwood Cemetery, near Raleigh, and close
beside the sleeping soldiers of the Confederacy. The soil of our
State holds the dust of no son who loved her more or served her
better. Peaceful be his rest, as he waits for the clear breaking of
the day over the brow of the eternal hills.
The daisies prank thy grassy grave,
Above, the dark pine branches wave;
Sleep on.
Below, the merry runnel sings,
And swallows sweep with glancing wings;
Sleep on, old friend, sleep on.
Calm as a summer sea at rest,
Thy meek hands folded on thy breast,
Sleep on.
Hushed into stillness life's sharp pain,
Naught but the pattering of the rain;
Sleep on, dear friend, sleep on.
EARLY TIMES IN RALEIGH.
ADDRESS BY D. L. SWAIN.
There were few more exciting topics in ante-revolutionary times than
the location of the seat of government.
The first General Assembly, in relation to which we have much
authentic information, met at the house of Captain Richard
Sanderson, on Little River, in the county of Perquimans, in 1715,
and revised the whole body of the public statute law.
The style of enactment is characteristic of the times and of the
proprietary government: "Be it enacted by his Excellency the
Palatine and the rest of the true and absolute Lords Proprietors of
Carolina, by and with the advice and consent of this present General
Assembly, now met at Little River, for the northeastern part of this
province."
From Little River the seat of legislation was transferred in 1720 to
the General Court House at Queen Anne's Creek, in Chowan Precinct,
and in 1723 to Edenton.
In 1731 the Proprietary was succeeded by the Royal Government, and
in 1734 the legislative will assumed a form of expression worthy
of eastern despotism: "We pray that it may be enacted, and be it
enacted by his Excellency, Gabriel Johnston, Esq., Governor, by and
with the advice and consent of his Majesty's council in the General
Assembly of this province."
In 1741 the General Assembly met at Wilmington, but returned the
following year to Edenton. From 1745 to 1761, with the exception of
a single session at Bath, it convened at New Bern. In 1761 it met
again at Wilmington, and from that time keen rivalry was maintained
between New Bern and Wilmington for metropolitan distinction, until
quieted by the Act of 1766, authorizing the construction of Governor
Tryon's viceregal palace at New Bern. This edifice, completed in
1770, dedicated to Sir William Draper--and the subject of his
muse in an attempt at Roman versification--was pronounced on good
authority, in 1783, superior to any structure of the kind in British
or South America.
During the Revolution the General Assembly met somewhat in
accordance with the exigencies of the times, at New Bern, Kinston,
Halifax, Smithfield, Wake Court House, Hillsborough and Salem.
In 1782 and 1783 the Legislature convened at Hillsborough, and in
1784 and 1785 at New Bern, in 1786 at Fayetteville, in 1787 at
Tarborough, and in 1788 returned to Fayetteville.
In 1787 the General Assembly had resolved that it "be recommended
to the people of the State to authorize and direct their
representatives in the convention called to consider the Federal
Constitution to fix on the place for the unalterable seat of
government."
The convention met at Hillsborough in August, 1788, and resolved
that "this convention will not fix the seat of government at one
particular point, but that it shall be left to the discretion of
the Assembly to ascertain the exact spot, provided always, that it
shall be within ten miles of the plantation whereon Isaac Hunter now
resides, in the county of Wake."
The following editorial article is copied from the _Fayetteville
Chronicle_ or _North Carolina Gazette_ of the 29th of November, 1790: