Francesville
After the
death of Benjamin Hawkins, the old Indian Agency
began to degenerate. Then Frances Bacon of Massachusetts,
who married Hawkins' daughter, Jeffersonia, brought new
life to the area by founding the town of Francesville. He sold
lots on what was then known as the Federal Wire Road.
Eventually the little town had dry goods and grocery stores,
a wagon factory, a blacksmith shop, a drugstore, a church,
a public school, a tavern, and a post office. Between 1830 and
1850, Francesville had a white population of about 100.
With the building of a railroad from Macon to Columbus,
Francesville disappeared and has never been rebuilt.
What subsequently became the site of the little town of FRANCISVILLE, in
Crawford County, was at first selected and used by Colonel Benjamin Hawkins as a
convenient locality for the transaction of the important duties confided to him
by Mr. Jefferson. Here, upon the left bank of the Flint river, and on the line
of what was afterwards the established route between Macon and Columbus, he
resided for a number of years: devoting his energies to the execution of the
trust devolved upon him as United States Agent to the Creek Indians, striving to
ameliorate their condition, and by his judicious influence and management
perpetuating amicable relations between them and the whites. During his
occupancy of the Old Agency, as it came to be known, this place gave manifest
indications of thrift and activity. A considerable plantation was formed, with
residence, mills, work-shops, store-houses, and appurtenances requisite for
comfort, security, and the conduct of the business connected with this advanced
post. Hither the Indians repaired for supplies at stated intervals. With them an
extensive traffic was maintained. Aside from the performance of his official
duties, Colonel Hawkins devoted much attention to rearing cattle and hogs. So
extensive became his herd that at one time he is said to have possessed not less
than five hundred calves. The care of these animals, and the details of the
agency furnished employment for many subordinates. The Flint river was utilized
as a convenient dividing line to separate the grown kine from their young.
Across this stream a substantial bridge was constructed, with a gate at either
end. This large stock of cattle and swine enabled him to entertain the
Indians,-who constantly visited him,-with abundant although primitive
hospitality, and materially assisted in perpetuating the kindly and wide-spread
influence which he exerted over them. While he lived, his cattle brand was
rigidly respected by the Red men; although, soon after his death, if report be
true, the Creeks,-oblivious of former obligations,-stole numbers of these cows
and hogs. Colonel Hawkins was a man of decided mark. To him does the State of
Georgia owe a debt of special gratitude. His Sketch of the Creek Country [1] is
a most valuable and interesting contribution. The French General Moreau who,
while in exile, was for some time his guest, was so much impressed with his
character and labors that he pronounced him one of the most remarkable men he
had met in America. "Under the faithful proconsular sway of Col. Hawkins," says
Mr. Chappell, [2] "the Creek Indians enjoyed for sixteen years, unbroken peace
among themselves and with their neighbors, and also whatsoever other blessings
were possible to the savage state, which it was his study gradually to
ameliorate. To this end he spared no pains. Much was done to initiate, instruct,
and encourage them in the lower and most indispensable parts of civilization.
Pasturage was brought into use, agriculture also, to some extent; both together
supplanting considerably among them their previous entire reliance for food on
hunting, fishing, and wild fruits. To the better and more secure modes of
obtaining a livelihood which civilization offers, he sought to win them by
example as well as by precept. He brought his slaves from North Carolina, and,
under the right conceded to his office, he opened and cultivated a large
plantation at the Agency on Flint river, making immense crops of corn and other
provisions. He also reared great herds of cattle and swine, and having thus
always abundance of meat and bread, he was enabled to practice habitually
towards the Indians a profuse, though coarse hospitality and benevolence which
gained their hearts and bound them to him by ties as loyal and touching as those
of old feudal allegiance and devotion."
Here Colonel Hawkins died in 1816, and was buried on the wooded bluff
overlooking the Flint river, a few hundred yards below the point of the present
crossing. No stone marks his grave. Among the scattered and almost obliterated
mounds in this lonely and forsaken cemetery is one more prominent than the rest.
It may designate the precise place of his sepulture.
For several years after the death of this prominent man, who gave impulse and
direction to all about him, neglect and decay supervened. New life was infused
into the settlement, however, by Francis Bacon, of Massachusetts, who, having
married Jeffersonia,-the youngest daughter of Col. Hawkins,-established himself
upon the site of the Old Agency, about 1825, and founded the town of
Francisville. Traffic with the surrounding country was freely invited. Being a
man of means, of intelligence, and of enterprise, matters prospered. Other
settlers, attracted by the prospect for gain, purchased lots of about an acre in
extent and located themselves on both sides of the public road. Several dry
goods and grocery stores, a wagon manufactory, a blacksmith shop, a drug store,
a church, a public school, a tavern, and a post-office were in time built. From
1830 to 1850 the town had an average population of about one hundred whites.
Much business was here transacted.
The traveler from the south as he crosses the Flint river, ascends a long
rocky hill, and passes through a narrow lane on the top, discerns no traces of
this dead town. The Old Agency,-once so important in the early days of this
section,-exists only in tradition. Francisville, which was built upon its
ruins, has fallen into nothingness. Tall trees and a tangled undergrowth hide
the graves of the dead, and there is little else save silence and forgetfulness.
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