embraced in Burke, Wilkes, and Tryon. Ashe was carved off Wilkes,
in 1799, and Alleghany off Ashe in 1859. Tryon, which bore the name
of the most obnoxious of the colonial governors, was divided into
Lincoln and Rutherford, in 1779, and the hated name obliterated.
Cleveland was cut from both these counties in 1841. Caldwell was
taken from Burke in 1842, and McDowell was erected out of territory
from Burke and Rutherford; and Catawba from territory from Lincoln,
in the same year. Easton was carved off Lincoln in 1846. Buncombe
was erected in 1791, out of territory previously embraced, partly
in Rutherford, but mainly in Burke. It is the parent stem of all
the trans-Blue Ridge counties, excepting Ashe and Alleghany. The
first branch was Haywood, in 1808, from which Macon was taken, in
1828, and Jackson in 1850. From territory of both these Swain was
made in 1871. Cherokee was cut off Macon in 1839. From its
territory Clay was formed in 1861, and Graham in 1872. Henderson
was cut off Buncombe in 1838; Polk from Henderson and Rutherford in
1855; and Transylvania from Henderson and Jackson in 1861. Yancey
was erected from Buncombe in 1833; Watauga from Yancey, Wilkes,
Caldwell, and Ashe, in 1849. Madison was erected of territory from
Buncombe in 1850; and Mitchell in 1861, from territory from Burke,
McDowell, Caldwell, Watauga, and Yancey.
Two elements, in the settlement and population of the mountain country,
have not been considered in the foregoing pages. The one is, happily,
well nigh extinct, the other is the main hope of the future. In early
times, criminals and refugees from justice made the fastnesses of the
wilderness hiding places. Their stay, in most cases, was short,
seclusion furnishing their profession a barren field for operation. A
few, however, remained, either adopting the wild, free life of the
chase, or preying upon the property of the community. The latter
occupation has been entirely abandoned by their posterity. There was a
time when it was unsafe to turn a good horse out to range on the grassy
mountain tops, but that time is passed. There are communities in the
mountains in which all the commands of the Decalogue are not
punctiliously observed, but “Thou shalt not steal,” is seldom violated.
Cattle and horses pasture on every range, stables are everywhere without
locks, houses are left open, and highway robbery is remembered only as a
tradition of the past.
By the element in the settlement referred to as the hope of the future,
we mean those classes who have come for the purpose of engaging in
business, and to establish summer homes, attracted by salubrity of
climate and beauty of scenery. Representatives of the latter class have
handsome estates at several places in the French Broad valley and along
the Blue Ridge.
Immigration for business purposes is just starting. The mineral deposits
and the lumber stores are bringing in good citizens from abroad. With
abundant resources, both of material and power, there is a wide field
here for manufacturers. The native population has not husbanded the
capital needed to start the ball rolling. Although settled for 100
years, Western North Carolina is a new country in many respects, but the
day of its rapid development is near at hand.
The great obstacle to development in the past has been the section’s
isolated position, an obstacle now almost removed. The building of a
turnpike from South Carolina to Tennessee was justly regarded a great
public improvement when it was completed in 1827, but during the last
half century horses have been too slow to carry on the world’s work.
General Hayne, of South Carolina, was one of the first projectors of a
railroad through the mountains. It was to run from Charleston to
Cincinnati, a line which there is good reason for believing will be
pushed to completion at no distant day. The original project was given
chartered form in 1835.
The Western North Carolina road was also an early project, and is a part
of the system of public improvements contemplated by the state
government. A charter was granted in 1855. The state authorized the
issue of bonds for three-fourths of the stock, the remaining one-fourth
being subscribed by private individuals. R. C. Pearson was chosen
president, and J. C. Turner engineer. It was the latter gentleman who
first surveyed a route over the Blue Ridge via Swannanoa gap. The
construction of this road reached to within five miles of Morganton,
when the war opened and all operations were stopped. After the war,
under the successive administrations as president of A. M. Powell, S. M.
D. Tate, and Major J. W. Wilson, work was continued. The latter
gentleman, combining the office of engineer with that of president, took
the first locomotive around the coils and through the tunnels into the
Swannanoa valley. The road was sold and passed under its present
management, which is associated with the Richmond & Danville company, in
the spring of 1880. It has been completed to its junction with the E. T.
V. & G. R. R., and is being pushed over and through the massive
transverse chains of the plateau to its western terminus. The scenery
along its lines is spoken of at various places in the following pages.
The Blue Ridge has been crossed by the Spartanburg & Asheville railroad,
and there is good ground for hope that the Carolina Central will be
extended from Shelby to Asheville at an early day. All these enterprises
are necessarily expensive, and consequently show the confidence which
capitalists place in the future of the region whose resources will be
opened up.
On account of the secluded position of Western North Carolina, there is
little to be said under the head of military reminiscences. The mountain
men, in the War of 1812, shouldered their rifles and marched to distant
climes, in defense of their country’s honor.
During the late struggle, this section escaped the desolation which the
greater portion of the South suffered. Stoneman’s Federal cavalry made a
raid, after the “surrender” of Lee into the trans-Blue Ridge country. He
passed by Hendersonville and Asheville, whence a Confederate fort had
been erected. Dividing into small squads, his men pillaged the country
as they went west.
A dare-devil expedition was accomplished by the Federal raider Kirk,
who, with his company of 325 East Tennesseeans, crossed the mountains,
through Mitchell county into Burke, surprised a larger force of
Confederates, and succeeded in capturing all their stores and taking the
men prisoners of war.
The mountain men were divided in sentiment and action during the war.
Most of the property holders joined the Confederate forces, while the
poorer classes refused to volunteer, and, when conscripted into the
service, deserted at the first opportunity. There were exceptions, of
course, with respect to both classes--some of the larger freeholders
being Union men, and some of the poor people in the coves being
enthusiastically loyal to the state.
The Southern Alleghanies, though “the oldest in the world,” have not yet
settled down to a state of absolute rest. Shocks and noises in several
localities have frequently been felt and heard, much to the discomfort
of inhabitants of the vicinity. There are reminiscences in the northern
part of Haywood county of shocks as early as 1812, and from time to time
ever since. The restless mountain is in a spur of the New Found range,
near the head of Fine’s creek. General Clingman was the first to call
public attention to it, which he did in an elaborate paper in 1848.
There are cracks in the solid granite of which the ridge is composed,
and towards its foot, chasms four feet wide, extending at places in all
directions, like the radiating cracks made in a rock by a light blast of
gunpowder. There are evidences of trees having been thrown violently
down, and a trustworthy gentleman declares that a huge oak was split
from root to top by the opening of a chasm under it. General Clingman
says:
“I observed a large poplar tree which had been split through its
center so as to leave one-half of it standing 30 or 40 feet high.
The crack or opening under it was not an inch wide, but could be
traced for hundreds of yards, making it evident that there had been
an opening wide enough to split the tree, and that then the sides
of the chasm had returned to their original position without having
split so as to prevent the contact of broken rocks.”
A great mass of granite was broken into fragments, and after one of
these shocks every loose stone and piece of wood was moved from its
original place. These jars, accompanied with noise, used to occur at
intervals of two or three years, but none have been felt for some time.
About the year 1829 occurred a violent earthquake, covering a limited
area, in Cherokee county. One of the Valley River mountains was cleft
open for several hundred yards, making a chasm which is still visible.
Silas McDowell, a careful observer, late of Macon county, stated, in a
paper, that there was a violent shock on the divide between Ellijay and
Cullasaja many years ago. A chasm opened in the north side of the
mountain, accompanied with crashing sounds. Satoola mountain, bounding
the Highlands plateau, it has been stated, has crevices from which smoke
issues at intervals.
In Madison county there is a mountain which has been known to rumble
and smoke. The warm springs are heated by volcanic action, probably by
hot gas from the earth’s molten interior, seeking an outlet through
crevices in the rocks and coming in contact with underground water
currents.
The most famous of the restless mountains of North Carolina is “Shaking
Bald.” The first shock, which occurred February 10, 1874, was followed
in such quick succession by others, as to cause general alarm in the
vicinity. This mountain for a time received national attention. Within
six months more than 100 shocks were felt.
The general facts of these terrestrial disturbances have never been
disputed, but concerning their cause, there has been widely diversified
speculation. Is there an upheaval or subsidence of the mountains
gradually going on? Are they the effect of explosions caused by the
chemical action of minerals under the influence of electric currents;
are they the effect of gases forced through fissures in the rocks from
the center of the earth, seeking an outlet at the surface? These are
questions on which scientists differ. Be the cause what it may, there is
no occasion to fear the eruption of an active volcano.
The scientific exploration of the grand summit of the Alleghany system,
was hinted at in the introduction, but on account of the great names
associated with the subject it is worthy of fuller treatment. The
extraordinary botanical resources of the mountains were first made known
by one of the most distinguished botanists of his day, Andre Michaux,
who made a tour of the valleys and some of the heights in 1787. In 1802
his son, an equally distinguished botanist, scaled the loftiest range.
Both these naturalists reported having found trees and other specimens
of alpine growth, that they had observed nowhere else south of Canada.
This was the first hint that the Black mountains were the highest
summits east of the Rockies. This judgment was based entirely upon the
plant life of the region explored.
It was from entirely different data that John C. Calhoun arrived at the
same opinion in 1825. David L. Swain, afterwards governor and president
of the State University, was then a member of the legislature from
Buncombe, his native county. Calhoun was Vice-President of the United
States. Meeting each other in Raleigh, the latter made a playful
allusion to their height, saying that in that respect they were like
General Washington. “We can also,” said the Vice-President,
“congratulate ourselves on another fact, that we live in the vicinity of
the highest land east of the Rocky mountains.”
“The suggestion,” says Governor Swain, “took me entirely by surprise,
and I inquired whether the fact had been ascertained? He replied that it
had not been by measurement, but a very slight examination of the map
would satisfy me it was so.”
Dr. Elisha Mitchell, of the State University, five years later,
concurred in the opinion of Vice-President Calhoun, and announced to the
Board of Public Improvements his intention to make a systematic
geographical exploration. In the year 1835, with no other interest than
that of contributing to scientific knowledge, he made the first
barometrical measurements west of the Blue Ridge. With great labor and
infinite patience he climbed the several peaks of the Blacks. In the
language of a subsequent explorer: “At the time Dr. Mitchell gave his
observations with regard to the height of the Black mountain it was more
inaccessible than now, by reason of the progress of the settlements
around its base, so that he was liable to be misled, thwarted by
unforeseen obstacles, in his efforts to reach particular parts of the
chain, and when he did attain some point at the top of the ridge, nature
was too much exhausted to allow more than one observation as to the
immediate locality.” Any one who has left the beaten path, and
attempted to penetrate the tangled thickets of laurel on the slopes of
the Black, will have some conception of the explorer’s difficulty.
Dr. Mitchell’s report was the first authoritative announcement of the
superior altitude of the highest southern summit to Mt. Washington. This
report gave rise to much controversy among geographers, but its
correctness was soon universally yielded.
In 1844 Dr. Mitchell again visited the region, making observations in
the interest of both geology and geography, and to confirm his former
measurements. About this time Hon. Thomas L. Clingman, then a member of
Congress, and a man of scientific tastes, began to make observations in
different sections--the Balsams, Smokies, and Blacks. In the latter
group he subsequently published that he had found a higher peak than the
one measured by Professor Mitchell. In the controversy which followed,
the fact of General Clingman having measured the highest point of ground
was undisputed. The question was: Had Dr. Mitchell measured the same
peak, or had he mistaken another for the highest, and ceased his
investigations without going to the top of the true dome?
Admitting the possibility of having been mistaken, the Professor, in the
summer vacation of 1857, embraced the first opportunity to review his
measurements. Accompanied by his son, Charles Mitchell, he began at the
railroad line to run a line of levels, that he might test the accuracy
of his barometer. They reached the Mountain house, half way up the
Black, at noon on Saturday, June 27th. Dismissing his son and assistant,
the professor left, saying he intended to cross the range by the route
he had gone in 1844, desiring to see the guide who at that time
accompanied him. On Monday Charles Mitchell climbed to the place
appointed to meet his father, but the day passed without his appearance.
The next day passed. “He must have met with some accidental delay,” was
the consolation. But another day’s absence dispelled this hope. On
Thursday morning the alarm was spread. Messengers were sent across the
range to the valleys below. He had not reached the place for which he
had started. Friday evening the report of his disappearance reached
Asheville. From every direction came men of all grades and avocations in
life. Following them came their, wives and sisters, anxious to help in
the search for the lost man’s body in that wilderness of more than
100,000 acres, whose funereal gloom conceals caverns and pitfalls into
which the incautious traveler may disappear.
At least 500 men were engaged in the search, which began on Friday,
within one day of a week after the professor was last seen. It was
Tuesday before the trace of human footsteps was discovered. Thomas
Wilson, who had acted as the professors’s guide, in 1844, in following
the course they had then taken, distinguished a mark in the green turf,
near the highest summit. Wilson declared it to be the summit they had
both been on, and the professor had measured. The old hunter, followed
by rugged mountaineers, hurried down a branch of Cane creek. The marks
of the wanderer became plainer, as the ground became rougher. Down a
splashing stream they followed for more than a mile, to a sheer
waterfall of about forty feet. A broken laurel branch and torn moss told
the story. Below in the circular pool fourteen feet deep, of crystal
water, lay the body perfectly preserved.
The place has been thus described:
“The pure waters enveloped him in their winding sheet of crystal;
the leaping cataract sang his requiem in that wondrous and eternal
song, of which old ocean furnishes the grand, all comprehensive
key. Cream and white flowers flaked the billowy thickets of the
dark green laurel, and tall conical firs, delicately tapering
spruces, interlocked their weeping branches, from shore to shore.”
Enveloping the body in a sheet, they carried it up the mountain to the
summit, whence, at the request of the family, it was conveyed to
Asheville for burial. A year later it was dis-interred, re-carried, and
amid a large concourse of people, deposited on the very pinnacle of the
Appalachians. There rests the “Christian hero’s dust.”
Since his death, Professor Mitchell’s claim to the credit of having
measured the peak which bears his name is admitted. He measured a great
many other pinnacles, but owing to the imperfection of his instruments
and other causes, he was somewhat inaccurate. The credit of having made
the first extensive survey and accurate measurements, is due Arnold
Guyot, professor of physical geography in Princeton college. He was
assisted in his long and unremunerated task, covering three summer
vacations, by General Clingman, M. E. Grand-Pierre, and E. Sandoz. Their
survey was begun in the Blacks in 1856. Professor Guyot’s report has
been revised and completed by Dr. W. C. Kerr, the late state geologist
of North Carolina.
To Dr. Curtis, of the University, the state is indebted for an
exposition of its botanical resources. He embodied in his collection and
several reports, the researches of Professors Gray and Carey, who, as
early as 1841, traversed the highest ranges. Had Dr. Curtis’ labor been
appreciated by the state government, North Carolina would have one of
the best collections of botanical specimens in the country.
We have now briefly sketched the settlement and leading incidents in the
progress of this highland country. The reader has no doubt reached the
conclusion that the mountaineers must be a happy people, for “their
annals are tiresome.” Should he visit the region, and stop in the homes
scattered through the picturesque valleys, he will find the confirmation
of that conclusion. If the inhabitants have little beyond the
lavishments of nature to boast of, they have the compensating knowledge
that they have little to be ashamed of. Their race and blood has
furnished to the country three of its Presidents--Jackson, Polk, and
Johnson; but greater than any of these, of the same kin, was that
splendid specimen of statesmanship, John C. Calhoun, born in the
sub-montane district of South Carolina. The same race has given to the
gallery of frontier heroes, Daniel Boone, of the Yadkin, and David
Crockett, of the Nollichucky. Old Buncombe itself has filled the
governor’s chair with two incumbents, Swain and Vance; has given the
State University a president, Swain; and to the United States Senate two
of the most useful representatives the state has ever had--Clingman and
Vance. Of such ancestry, and of such representatives of its capacity for
development, any section might be proud. Of the attention its natural
features has received from the outside world, it has scarcely less
reason for pride and congratulation.
[Illustration: THE SPARKLING CATAWBA SPRINGS.]
IN THE SADDLE.
And the steed it shall be shod
All in silver, housed in azure,
And the mane shall swim the wind;
And the hoofs along the sod
Shall flash onward and keep measure
Till the shepherds look behind.
--_Elizabeth Barrett Browning._
[Illustration: T]here is something in a long ride on horseback that time
cannot obliterate. At its recollection one feels again the motion of the
horse, and can well imagine the bridle-reins in his fingers. With these
sensations come the cool breath of morning, the smooth stretches of road
through sunlight and shadow, the rough trail by wild, rushing waters,
the vistas of rich meadows and fields, and the green and purple outlines
of mountains. Such scenes become so impressed upon the memory that one
might well question with Byron:
“Are not the mountains, waves, and skies a part
Of me and of my soul, as I of them?”
This sketch is of a ride taken by the writer, through some of the most
scenic sections of the mountains. Treating, as it does, of the country
and people as they are, the tourist in quest for information,
preparatory to a trip through the same region, need look no further than
these pages.
In the interest of my pocket, I hired a sound young horse, at
thirty-three and a third cents per day. He was my selection from several
that could have been taken from the same class of people, at a schedule
of prices ranging from twenty-five to fifty cents. If the tourist
intends traveling for a month or more, the wisest plan is to buy a
horse, and then sell at the finish. Money can be saved by this
operation, unless being ignorant concerning horse flesh, he falls into
the hands of an unscrupulous jockey.
It was in August, and clear bright skies for a season were predicted by
the weather prophets, when, early one morning, I mounted my steed before
an Asheville hotel. In the saddle-bags for myself was an extra suit of
blue flannel, two pairs of socks, a rubber coat, comb, and brush; and
for the horse two shoes and a paper of nails, to provide against losses
which might occur twenty-five or more miles from where a horse-shoe
could be procured. Country blacksmiths depend to a large extent upon
their customers to furnish the materials for their work.
There is a road that winds from the center of Asheville, onward down
hill and up, by pleasant door-yards, white-washed, stone-wall fences,
and trimmed groves, to the bridge over the Swannanoa-river. Just beyond
it, a wide road, turning sharp toward the left, is the route to Hickory
Nut gap, and the comparatively level county of Rutherford beyond.
From this point the road runs through pleasant valleys, by mills, small
streams, dwellings, and under forests, for eight miles, to the base of
the mountains, whereon is the opening of the noted gap--the gateway to
the picturesque region of Broad river. On the summit of the pass a
limited view can be had of Buncombe county valley lands, dotted with
cornfields, checkered with forests and mountain-bounded.
The road now begins to descend through beautiful sylvan scenes,
combining all the gloom, luxuriance, wildness, and beauty of rocks,
vines, pines, rhododendrons, crystal waters, dark ravines, and blue
streaks of sky.
Where the Broad river crosses the road with a wide sweep, I drew rein
before a frame dwelling, whose scanty farm lands gave no promise of
yields which would afford enough extra money, by ten years’ savings, to
be used in painting its dingy sides. Fastened to it was a porch with one
end concealed by trailing vines, choked with dust. Before the weed-grown
potato patch was a rickety, board fence, on the top of which was seated
a man dressed in seedy, dusty, brown shirt, pantaloons, hat, and shoes.
Upon my inquiry whether dinner could be afforded here for horse and man,
he slid lazily off his perch with the remark:
“Plenty oats an’ hay; no corn. Will ye lite?”
The man started with my horse for the stable, and I went toward the
house. High steps reached up to the porch. On the latter stood a table,
white with powdered plaster of Paris, and covered with dental
instruments and teeth for false sets. Before it sat at work a
middle-aged man.