International studio (59.1916)

An Elizabethan Colony in North Carolina

K N ELIZABETHAN COLONY IN
/\ NORTH CAROLINA
/“A BY THEODORE L. FITZSIMONS
Some forty years ago sixteen English
families settled at Bowman’s Bluff, in North Car-
olina, twenty-five miles southeast of Asheville, in
the beautiful valley of the French Broad River
about that section known to tourists as the Land
of the Sky. These families were not of the usual
emigrant type but belonged rather to the landed
gentry class and emanated from Wales, Derby-
shire and Southern England.
One of these, a Mr. Juedwine, an Oxford scholar
and a man of marked musical and artistic abili-
ties, designed and built for himself a charming
English cottage’’The Meadows,’’quite Elizabethan
in character, with its huge log rafters stretching
across the ceilings and its quaint bow windows.
On a hill over the river a mile or so to the south-
east was Bryn Avon, built as the name intimates,
by a Welshman. This had originally been a
mountain shack but was completely remodelled
by its new owner, Air. Evans. The dark ivy vine
covering one of the massive stone windows was
imported from Wales, and an old Welsh church
on its disestablishment had yielded two stained-
glass panels, to be seen over the mantelpiece.
Staircase and mantels were all solid hand-carved
walnut and over the mantel in the Welsh lan-
guage was the inscription signifying “With God
everything, without God nothing.” In such wise
do travellers carry their country with them in
their hearts and create an old atmosphere in new
surroundings. And in such wise houses cease to
be merely shelters and become homes. Bryn Avon
is gabled and has great stone chimneys with enor-
mous open fireplaces fit to accommodate the
largest of yule logs. The lead diamond windows,
the big copper warming-pans, reflecting the flick-
ering lights, and a monstrous bellows are unfor-
gettable items, not to mention a good-natured
bull dog, “Bobs”, who seemed to give the
finishing touch of individuality to a comfortable
refuge.
Overlooking the French Broad River a mile
from Bryn Avon, was another interesting home
belonging to a Mr. Holmes, with a wonderful
view of the sapphire ranges of the mountains,
lighting up at sunset with every conceivable hue
of gold and orange. Perhaps of equal interest
with the old world architecture were the smooth-

cut lawns and avenues of pines, with little white
gates at every point of the compass. Near by,
tucked away in a fold of the hills, was a diminu-
tive church yclept Gethsemane, which is probably
the only church in America to-day where they
pray for the English Royal Family.
Not only has this colony preserved Elizabethan
traditions in its architecture, but even the speech
of the mountaineers shows deliberate trace of
imported origin.
In trying to recall a picture of this interesting
colony passing mention may be made of the
Elizabethan dialect of the people, of which so
much has been written lately. Their language
is indeed as much in keeping with the days
of Good Queen Bess, as is the aforementioned
Elizabethan half-timber architecture of the
Meadows and Bryn Avon.
If you ask a blue-eyed son of the mountains if
he thinks it will rain, he will ponder the matter
gravely for a moment or so, and then answer,
“Wall, hit mought ’an it moughtn’t.” Here we
notice that hit and mought are two words often
used by Bacon and, in fact, that in the days of
Elizabeth, it was as cockney to say it for hit, as
am for ham. They also call a bag a poke, and
if you ask them where any place is, they’ll say
“hits up yon-way.” Once when a friend asked
an old mountain woman for her artistic opinion
of a bronze semi-nude statue of Diana, the cau-
tious old lady looked at the strange figure for a
while in silence, and though apparently disap-
proving of the scanty drapery, said: “Wall, I
rekin hits for some use!” According to Wilde
the statue could not have been a work of art.
To return to the English colony, though some of
them planted large corn crops for a while success-
fully, and though they settled down and lived
happily for two or three decades, little by little
the colony diminished; some went to Canada,
some went back to England, and some died in
their new homes in the French Broad Valley.
Of those who are still in the neighbourhood of
Bowman’s Bluff, there are very few remaining.
The soaring blue dome of Pisgah and the
Pisgah range, with ever-changing cloud shadows
on their lofty crests, are endless themes for the
landscape painter and a joy for the settler who,
from the porch of Bryn Avon alone, can discern
thirteen distinct ranges, among them the tower-
ing peak of Alt. Mitchell, said to be the highest
mountain east of the Rockies.

L XXXVII