This young man was destined to become one of the most unique characters in American history. I know of no other of whom it can be said that he was loved by both his friends and his enemies. Indian mothers were wont to hush their children to sleep with the terror of his name, but Indian chieftains were known to plead when in distress, "Send us John Sevier. He is a good man, and he will do us right." In the times that "tried men's souls" to the uttermost he was to stand firm when most men faltered. He was to be "the rear-guard of the Revolution," and in its darkest days was to throw his sword into the trembling scale and turn it to final victory at King's Mountain.
At this time he was about twenty-six years of age, nearly six feet in height, and of a slender but wiry and athletic figure. His carriage was erect, his movements quick and energetic, and his bearing commanding. He had light hair, a fair skin, and a ruddy complexion, and his large dark-blue eyes were singularly expressive of vivacity, good feeling, and fearlessness. He had handsome features, a lofty forehead, a prominent nose, and a mouth and chin of absolute perfection. His manners were exceedingly winning, and he had about him a sort of magnetic force that would convert into a friend the most stubborn of enemies. However, it is doubtful if, with but one exception, he ever had an enemy. His individuality was so marked that, if told John Sevier was present, any stranger could have pointed him out in the most crowded assemblage. His career will read more like romance than history, but it was entirely in keeping with the man, who was altogether great, unselfish, heroic, one of those choice spirits who are now and then sent into the world to show us of what our human nature is capable. Next to the landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth, the coming together of those two bodies of emigrants on the Watauga was the most important event which up to that time had occurred in American history; but it was no more important than the meeting there of John Sevier and James Robertson, for, humanly speaking, had those two men not met, and acted thereafter in harmony together, the civilization there planted could never have survived the struggle it was destined to encounter with savage foes and fratricidal enemies.
There were now between thirty and forty men in the settlement, and, the location of the new-comers being decided on, they all set about the erection of their dwellings. Trees were felled, cut into logs, hewn into joists, split into flooring, and rived into shingles, and in an incredibly short time the various families were domiciled in their new abodes. These were generally one and a half stories high, about twenty feet square, and built of rough logs, chamfered at the ends, so as to fit closely together. They had a solid plank door, hung on wooden hinges, and two or three small windows, formed by sawing through one or two of the outer logs. The windows were entirely open, or closed only with a stout blind, and glazed with thick paper saturated with bear's grease to render it transparent; but the larger number of the cabins, if destitute of glazing, were furnished with blinds, which were necessary as a protection against intruders. The roof was covered with large split shingles, held down by long weight-poles, and the floors were of puncheons,—wide pieces of oak or poplar, two or three inches thick, split and hewn with an axe, and laid upon sleepers. If the hewing is well done, such floors are as level and smooth as if fashioned of machine-made material. The chimney was of sticks or stones, laid up in clay, and it went up on the outside in a pyramidal form, and of a size totally disproportioned to the dwelling, for these people were fond of a wide roaring fire in winter, and in summer the huge flue was the best of all ventilators. If it is added that the roof of some of these cabins was extended in front so as to cover a wide veranda, that the bark and moss were left clinging to the logs, which by another season would be covered with honeysuckles and the Virginia creeper, we shall see that they must have presented no unpicturesque appearance.
The interiors need only a brief description. There were generally but two rooms, one below, the other above, approached by a ladder in a corner. The lower floor was parlor, kitchen, and often bedroom. The fireplace was deep and wide, surmounted, perhaps, by a broad mantel of unpainted oak, on which were a few trinkets and the violin so precious to the backwoodsman. In one corner was a spinning-jenny, in another an uncushioned settle, and opposite the fireplace a bureau or chest of drawers of native wood and home manufacture. These, with a small table, a few chairs with rustic frames and deerskin coverings, also of home manufacture, and a couple of forked sticks nailed to one of the logs and supporting the trusty rifle, would probably complete the furniture of the apartment.
This is a description of the smaller houses. Others, adapted to larger families, were what were termed "double-barrelled" cabins, having two rooms on the ground-floor, separated by an open passage-way, and a "lean-to" in the rear to serve as a kitchen. Still others, it may be, were like the mansion of the elder Sevier,—half a dozen single cabins tacked one upon the other and covering space enough to serve for the foundation of a cathedral.
From these details we can easily form for ourselves a picture of the first civilized settlement beyond the Alleghanies. A score or more of these cabins were scattered here and there in the very heart of the forest, the great trees crowding so closely around them as often to overhang their very roofs. Near them horses and cattle were grazing on the thick native grass that grows among the trees, or housed in rude sheds at the rear of the dwellings, while farther away, along the margin of the many streams, deer and elk and buffalo were browsing. Glimpses of foot-paths leading from one widely-separated dwelling to another might be here and there seen; but there were no roads, for no wheeled vehicle had yet invaded the sylvan solitude.
Their families being properly housed, the settlers began to think of a school for the instruction of their children. Books were scarce among them, especially such as were suited to the instruction of the young. Paper, ink, slates, and pencils, also, were not easily procured. Even years later important letters and despatches were often written with ink made of gunpowder and on a blank leaf torn from a family Bible. But books and writing-implements were now imported from Virginia, and, a teacher being selected from among the better educated of the settlers, a school was opened, and the young ideas were taught to shoot in the right direction.
The people now numbered, all told, about two hundred souls, not more than forty of whom were able to bear arms. On the east a mountain barrier shut them off from all civilized aid and succor, and on every other side they were exposed to savage tribes, at least a hundred thousand strong, of whom not less than fifteen thousand were warriors. Three thousand of these, and those nearest the settlement, were Cherokees, a fierce, warlike race, by instinct and tradition the foe of the white man. How this handful of pioneers came to venture upon such dangerous ground, or, being there, escaped total extermination, may well excite our wonder. They understood their exposed situation, but they went peacefully about their daily pursuits, tilling the soil, planting and harvesting, and "gathering into barns," or, more correctly, into ricks,—for as yet there were no barns among them,—unmolested by the Indians, and in harmony with one another, for two full years of genuine prosperity. They send accounts of their prosperity to the friends they have left beyond the mountains, and new immigrants come to the settlement, some of them men of means, who aid materially in its development. However, they are an abnormal community. Two colonies claim jurisdiction over them, but the claim is never enforced, and never extends beyond a discussion in State papers; so they are without law or anything to assert its majesty. There is no power to enforce a right or punish a wrong, and not a solitary lawyer in the settlement. Every man is a law unto himself, but, strange to say, not a single crime is committed among them.
The new-comers spread, in search of choice locations, west as far as the Chimney-Top Mountain, and south to the fertile valley of the Nolachucky. The more remote settlers were therefore in a very exposed position, —almost alone, and beyond them a wide wilderness,—but they had no fear from the Indians. The few who came to the settlements were friendly, and, after smoking and eating with the settler, they would go away, grasping his hand and assuring him that the red man was his brother. Those were halcyon days; but Satan entered into Paradise, and one of his legitimate children,—a Scotchman named Cameron,—in the early spring of 1772, invaded this Eden on the Watauga.
He was the British agent residing among the Cherokees; and he came with several of the chieftains to warn the settlers that they had encroached upon the Indian lands, and must move off, or be removed by the British soldiery. However, he whispered into the ear of Sevier and Robertson that for a reasonable consideration paid to him—the representative of the British government—the settlers would be permitted to remain undisturbed in their possessions.