It was a time of seemingly unlimited possibilities in Bermuda and she came to embody that time.

Elegant, poised and strikingly intelligent, Jacqueline Swan was Bermuda’s de facto First Lady between 1982 and 1995, when her husband, long-time Premier Sir John Swan, led an ambitious and spectacularly energetic socioeconomic and cultural revolution. And he could have had no more supportive and dependable a partner and comrade-in-arms in these endeavours than Lady Swan.

In that era of heady optimism, of what could be rather than what was or what had been, few could argue that Lady Swan didn’t help to lead by sterling personal example: not just as a loving and fiercely loyal political spouse, but as a transcendent Bermudian public figure in her own right, one almost universally admired for her sincerity, dignity, humility, dedication to the public good and unfailing graciousness.

No one could question her quiet confidence. No one could challenge her self-contained and decidedly unshowy self-assurance.

In public, she discharged her duties with style and grace, reshaping the undefined role and responsibilities of a Bermudian political leader’s spouse to suit her own character and temper and, in doing so, coming to be beloved and respected in equal measure. In private, she balanced family life as the mother of three young children with both her own public role and as her husband’s most trusted confidant and adviser as he pursued a political agenda characterised by strategic vision, boldness and unflagging determination.

Before the political ascension of Sir John, Bermuda was fast sinking into irrelevance and ennui, an increasingly decrepit resort destination with a brilliant future seemingly behind it. Time had come close to standing still here. The air of faded gentility was as pungent as the whiff of mildew and decay.

The emergence of John Swan would represent an historic turning point in our development. The United States-Bermuda tax treaty that he ferociously sought by way of years of painstaking personal negotiations in Washington provided the underpinnings for a new financial services-based economy, along with all manner of new opportunities and possibilities for Bermudians (there were, of course, to be some new frictions and challenges as well).

In this period of great transition and great readjustment, the former Jacqueline Roberts, of Somerset Bridge, demonstrated herself to be a teacher by inclination as well as by training. Like her husband, Lady Swan encouraged Bermudians to confront their destiny with confidence, hope and a sense of possibility. Also like her husband, she helped to define her times — a period that unalterably transformed Bermuda and the self-image of Bermudians.

As a couple, the Swans came to personify George Bernard Shaw’s maxim — “You see things; and you say ‘Why?’ But I dream things that never were; and I say ‘Why not?’” — in very much the same way JFK and Jacqueline Kennedy had in the America of the early 1960s. That parallel, invoked many times in the 1980s and 1990s, was neither tendentious nor exaggerated.

For as a couple, the Swans represented a youthful, vibrant and welcome new era in Bermudian affairs after a period of deadening inertia in the late 1970s, one that seemed to be the equal and opposite reaction to the breakneck economic, political and social progress of the 1960s.

The Swans touched something in the Bermudian spirit, rekindling a sense of common purpose, common identity and common commitment, which, above all else, encouraged Bermudians to start viewing themselves as masters of their own destiny rather than simply as helpless playthings at the mercy of irrational and unfathomable outside forces (a somewhat fatalistic attitude, which finds perfect expression in our island’s motto: “Whither the fates do take us ...”).

As a result, what could have been a transitional period marked by dislocation and uncertainty proved to be a relatively seamless affair, a time when eagerness, excitement and a sense of adventure were far more in evidence than fear or self-doubt.

Although she could be impish and irreverent among friends, Lady Swan always carried herself in public with impressive dignity and an almost regal demeanour. She also possessed a will of iron. Yet she was so courteous, so charming and so very subtle, she could impose that will upon others without their ever realising it.

This combination of attributes made her a formidable behind-the-scenes presence in many charitable and social ventures. As her friend, former parliamentarian Kim Young, has said of Lady Swan: “Her fundraising skills were excellent. She tirelessly raised funds for Packwood Home and remained an active member on their board for years. She became a volunteer Pink Lady and was a regular and committed volunteer who took her role seriously.

“She was also a fantastic fundraiser for the old hospital and our brand new hospital with great enthusiasm. There are so many areas in the community where she quietly worked or advised or cajoled people into commencing social programmes and Bermuda has so much to thank her for.”

When it came to fundraising, it was never a question of simply playing on the largely dormant Bermudian sense of noblesse oblige — of reminding those who have benefited most from this society to recognise their moral obligation to give something back. For her, it was more a matter of simple good manners and common courtesy.

Those who received phone calls from her were told this in polite but firm terms and were often reaching for their chequebooks before she had hung up. Her expectations were demanding, but they were usually met or exceeded. Even Robert Stigwood, the Bermudian-based Australian entertainment impresario, whose negotiating style was famously said to resemble that of a Great White Shark outfitted with tungsten dentures, proved to be no match for Lady Swan. He became a regular and generous donor to charities she contributed her time and energies to.

Despite her high public profile, she was a quintessentially private individual, assured and glamorous but shy and retiring. She often said her favourite role was well away from the scrutiny of the public eye as mother to her three children, Alison, Amanda and Nicholas, and grandmother to Hayden, Sebastian and Amelia.

When her husband of 51 years was inducted as Bermuda’s newest national hero at the end of June, the former senior civil servant Robert Horton remarked that Sir John had a long history of overcoming challenges with “sheer determination and the belief that he could achieve anything if he set his mind to it”.

Mr Horton might have added: and if Jacqueline Swan set her mind to it as well.

TIM HODGSON