Chapter V: Preface (1)

An author, however inconsiderable he may be, always feels that he has something to say to the public concerning his work; he must, therefore, have a preface. I think, however, that such a course is seldom necessary; the world, after all which the writer can express, will judge impartially of his motives, and of the execution of his plan.—My introduction will be very brief.

In justice to myself I ought to observe, that until after finishing my tour, I did not entertain the least idea of publishing an account of it; and that I have been induced to take this step by the request of many of my fellow-citizens.

It will be readily perceived, that a work of this kind does not admit of the display of much reasoning or erudition; and I shall speak as little of myself as will be consistent with the nature of the publication. This little volume cannot possibly merit much praise; and I trust that it will escape unqualified censure.

PORTSMOUTH, N. H. 1818.

TOUR

The supposed singularity of the tour, an account of which I am about to write, suggests a few preliminary observations.

Customs and manners often produce more influence than principle. Whilst the former are strictly adhered to, the latter is often violated. Here we see the comparative influence of self-reproach and the reproach of the world: a deviation from custom, in relation to modes of living and acting, may excite animadversion. We shrink from the unfriendly gaze of the multitude; and tremble even at the undeserved censure of the superficial and ill-natured:—at the same time we disregard the condemnation of our own hearts, and endeavour to cancel the obligations of morality by the good, yet false, opinion of the world.

But it is readily acknowledged, that unless excentricity ought always to be avoided; it invariably proceeds from error in taste, from uncontrouled feeling, or from mental imbecility. The dispositions and powers of men, however, are various; and the beaten track is not always the field for improvement.

Civil society is not without its disadvantages. Whilst it adds to the information, and polishes the manners of man, it lessens the vigour of his mind and the generosity of his heart. He no longer experiences the sublime inspirations of Nature. A creature of habit and the slave of form, she will not {6} deign to visit him. From the factitious grandeur of cities, she wings her eagle flight, to communicate to the uncontaminated children of her forests her instruction and blessing.

In the savage state there is, no doubt, much individual depravity; as great a degree of it, however, may be found in the most civilized communities. But in the latter are never witnessed that nobleness of spirit, that eloquence of thought, that force of expression, and that wonderful aspect which the former affords.

It is true, that the aggregate advantages of civil society are much greater than those of a state of nature; and how happy should we be if we could ingraft the instruction, and impress the polish of civilization upon the lofty virtues of untutored life. But, with us, courage gives place to cowardice; and the native disinterestedness of man, the source of his greatest virtues and highest happiness, yields to the calculations of meanness and fraud. Even in public life we please ourselves with the tinsel of narrow views, whilst we disregard those great principles of national policy which alone can render us truly great.

I have often been questioned as to the objects of my tour; and I am willing to gratify a reasonable and friendly curiosity. My views were various. Besides the ordinary advantages of travel, and of becoming acquainted with a country comparatively but little known, I wished to acquire the simplicity, native feelings, and virtues of savage life; to divest myself of the factitious habits, prejudices and imperfections of civilization; to become a citizen of the world; and to find, amidst the solitude and grandeur of the western wilds, more correct views of human nature and of the true interests of man. The season of snows was preferred, that I might experience the pleasure of suffering, and the novelty of danger. {7} On the second of February, 1818, I left the residence of my friends, in Hopkinton, New-Hampshire, prepared, according to the frontispiece, to meet the inclemency of the season, the hostilities either of man or beast, and also to provide myself, in the way of game, with provisions.

It may gratify some to know the particulars of my habiliment: Mine was a close dress consisting of buffalo skins. On my shoulders were epaulettes made of the long hair of the animal; and they were for the purpose of shielding the shoulder from rain. Around my neck and under one arm was strapped a double leather case, with brass chargers, for shot and ball; and under the other arm a case for powder strapped in the same way, and also having a brass charger. Around the waist was a belt, with a brace of pistols, a dirk, two side cases for pistol balls, and a case for moulds and screw. Also around the waist was buckled an Indian apron, which fell behind: it was about eighteen inches square, covered with fine bear skin, trimmed with fur, and having over the lower part of it a net for game. This apron contained a pocket compass, maps, journal, shaving materials, a small hatchet, patent fire works, &c. My cap and gloves were made of fur, my moccasons were of deerskin, and on my shoulder I carried a six feet rifle. The partners of my toils and dangers were two faithful dogs.

In this situation I arrived at Detroit on the 20th of March. My dogs, however, were destroyed by wolves, on the night of the tenth of that month, in the vicinity of the Miami Swamp.

I had, in my juvenile days, voluntarily accustomed myself to fatigues, hardships, and privations of every kind; but not having recently exercised much, the snow being deep, and my dress and baggage heavy, my fatigue, in the early stages of my tour, {8} was excessive: My first day’s travel was only eight miles. In a short time, however, my daily progress was from fifteen to twenty miles, through trackless snows and over tremendous mountains. The universal curiosity which my appearance excited was oppressive; but I had fortified my mind by reflection, and endeavoured to present to all an aspect at once grave and mild. In the course of my tour, I met, as might have been expected, a great variety of character; from the savage of the wood to the savage of civil life; and I sometimes found it necessary to appeal to my arms, for the defence of the privileges of the traveller and the rights of the man.

My title-page promises reflections upon various subjects. I hope they will neither be too frequent nor too lengthy. The study of man, both as it respects the abstract principles of his nature and the almost infinite variety of modes in which these principles, through the influences of education and customs, develope themselves, should be one great object of the traveller. In order to become well acquainted with these principles, he must frequently and maturely examine his own heart. Here alone can he ascertain the secret springs of action; here alone can he define and classify the passions; and lastly, here alone can he find the means of their controul, or of giving to them a proper direction. Much information, in relation to this subject, may be collected from books, and much by travel; but he who is ignorant of his own heart must be ignorant of human nature.

In my way to the interior I passed through Amherst;[40] and reached this place towards evening, during a heavy fall of snow. I had been anticipating the pleasure of visiting the family of Judge C. who reside there; but the ladies of the family, supposing me to be an indian, barred the doors against me. I {9} soon, however, obtained a herald, and then the castle gates were elegantly thrown open. On account of this little adventure, which arose principally from the lateness of the afternoon and from my being covered with snow, some captious scribblers took the liberty, in the papers of the day, to be impudent. Could I condescend to be offended with them, I should here tender my forgiveness.

For the above anecdote I am indebted, principally, to the interesting Miss L******, whose vivid imagination, aided by the story of the giants, magically converted her habitation into an embattled tower, and gave to a harmless knight a consequence which he did not deserve.

Amherst is a considerable inland town. The plain upon which the village is situated is very spacious; and some of its buildings are large and elegant.

From this place I proceeded to Milford,[41] the residence of my friend P. whose love of principle, independence of character, and talents, entitle him to much consideration. With him I passed some pleasant hours. The appearance of this town is pleasant. The contrast between its extensive intervales, and the rise of ground upon which its bridge, manufactories, and village are situated, renders its aspect quite interesting.

The distance between Amherst and Milford is only a few miles; but in travelling from the former to the latter I found the snow deep and stiffened by rain, and the road trackless.

The next day I began to ascend the mountains of New-Hampshire:—my native hills!—Oh, may they be the everlasting abode of Liberty! The weather here was variable, the snow in some drifts ten feet deep, my fatigue extreme, and my health impaired. The towns of Milton and Temple,[42] {10} situated in this part of the country, are pleasant; and the scenery about them highly picturesque. Several branches of the Sowhegan in the former, and the streams which pass into this river from the westerly part of the latter, add much to the variety and beauty of the prospect.

The next evening I found myself in Marlborough. The weather had become severe, and my ability to travel without fatigue was increasing. The mountainous aspect of the country, the front of my cap, &c. whitened by frost, and the creaking of the snow beneath my step, reminded me of Wallace and Tell; those champions of freedom, whose physical nature was as rugged as the rocks which they inhabited, and whose hearts, at the same time, could glow with generosity, or soften with compassion. The Grand Monadnock here attracted particular attention. It is more than two thousand feet in height, and is remarkable for its cave and its fossils. Peterborough and Dublin, the towns between Temple and Marlborough, are interestingly situated. The former is very mountainous, and its numerous brooks render it a fine grazing township. A principal branch of the Contoocook passes near the centre of the town, and here unites with Goose river flowing from Dublin. The latter place is exceedingly well watered, and its two villages, together with some scattered houses, make a pleasant appearance.

The coldness of the weather continued to increase. I passed on through Keene[43] and Chesterfield. The appearance of the former excited much interest. It is almost an inland city; and promises to make a very conspicuous figure. It is also, evidently, a place of much business; and from the appearance of some of its buildings, together with what little knowledge I possess of its society, I should suppose {11} it a place of considerable polish and refinement. Chesterfield too is a very pretty town. The undulatory aspect of its hills, the quiet of its vales, and the neatness of its village made a very pleasant impression upon my mind.

Soon after leaving Keene I passed over high and steep hills. Some of them were, apparently, several miles in length. In one of the vallies of these mountains an amusing incident occurred. It is a trifle, and may be thought not worth mentioning; I feel a pleasure, however, in doing justice to good nature: I met three six feet fellows in a single sleigh. They were, probably, going to Keene in their _best_. There had fallen, the night before, a light snow of a few inches; and their horse, not fancying my appearance, took it into his head, notwithstanding I gave him the whole road, to sheer against the wall, and to turn all these well-looking grenadiers into the snow. I was preparing to make an apology; but it was unnecessary: the good nature of these liberal men furnished for them and myself a hearty laugh.

During the following day I passed Connecticut river; and entering Brattleborough, Vermont, proceeded to the further part of the adjoining town.[44] The appearance of the country just before my crossing the Connecticut, was truly interesting. My course was around a mountain about half way between its summit and the river below. It was the sabbath day; and the mildness of the christian religion seemed to breathe around. The rays of the sun, with a kind of vivid obscurity, darted through the wood; and the solemn, yet cheerful, gospel bell of a neighbouring villa spake of the pure and peaceful communion of saints. Even the game seemed to know it was the sabbath, and did not shun my path. Perhaps it was wrong in me thus to travel. I had {12} never done so before. My situation, however, was peculiar, and I endeavored to confine my thoughts to the appropriate views of this holy season.

I am now upon the borders of my own peculiar country. A single step carries me from New-Hampshire; and when I shall again behold her pleasant hills is uncertain—Perhaps never!

The term banishment is, in this part of the world, seldom employed; and its introduction here may appear unmeaning. But those who have been exiled by their country, by misfortune, or by themselves, will hear the word with a glow of interest, and find, in their own hearts, its true and ready definition. Is there no exile beyond the limits of our land?—no spirit which sighs for the scenes of childhood?—where the light of Heaven was first beheld, and the impression of thought first created?—where friendship first warmed, and love etherialized, and patriotism fired? Oh! if prayer is heard on High, it must be the exile’s prayer.

The tears of patriotism need no apology. The name of New-Hampshire is identified with that of freedom. Her mountains were never intended for slavery; and tyrants, I know, could not exist in the presence of her people. Were she just to herself, she would always excite fear in her enemies and admiration in her friends. Her institutions are dictated by the spirit of self-government, and her will is the supreme law of the land. Her citizens are hardy, intelligent and virtuous; her climate is salubrious and her soil fertile; her hills are covered with cattle, and her vallies wave with grain. Industry, economy, and mechanical genius are conspicuous characteristics of her people; and a thousand streams, intersecting the whole country, tender to the manufacturing interest their powerful agencies. In point of hospitality too she {13} is second to none; and the virtue, benevolence, and beauty of her daughters are, at once, the inspiration and the reward of valour.

Within a few years I have visited nearly all the states and territories of United America. I have noticed their respective moral and physical character, and have viewed them in relation to the ordinary causes of the rise and fall of nations. Should the freedom of this country ever perish, one of her last intrenchments will be in the mountains of New-Hampshire. Her citizens, however, must, by adhering to her constitution, and by proper systems of education, preserve in their minds a knowledge of the first principles of civil liberty, a due sense of the importance of morality, and a lively interest in the transactions of the Revolution. The whole history of that great event should, with us, constitute an indispensable part of education. But in speaking much of its battles, we must think more of its principles. The latter were so perfectly correct; and the manner of acting upon them was so candid, so humane, so firm, so steady, and so persevering, that no political event, since the creation of man, merits half so much admiration as the achievement of our independence.

Before leaving New-Hampshire I may say a word respecting Connecticut river. It is one of the most pleasant and useful rivers in the world. It generally preserves a distance of from eighty to one hundred miles from the ocean, and meanders through a very fertile country to the distance of more than three hundred miles. It waters New-Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, and Connecticut, and at length passes into Long-Island Sound.

I am now in Vermont.[45] This is a noble state, and may well be termed the peculiar sister of New-Hampshire. The same mountainous and fertile {14} country; the same moral and physical energies characterize them both. Should their liberties ever be assailed, they will sympathetically unite their efforts, and triumph or fall together. In both of these states I met with Revolutionary men, and they were still the champions of liberty. The tranquil charms of rural avocations had preserved the purity and peace of their bosoms; whilst the grandeur of their mountains, and the rudeness of their storms had continually reminded them of the blasts of tyranny, and of the unconquerable spirit of freedom.

In both of these states I experienced unlimited hospitality and kindness. Money could not have purchased so rich a boon. Amidst their lofty hills, covered with deep snows and assailed by piercing winds, I found the humble cottager; and in the benevolence of his aspect, and the hospitality of his board, I seemed to hear the chorus in Gustavus Vasa:—[46]

“Stranger, cease through storms to roam;
Welcome to the cotter’s home;
Though no courtly pomp be here,
Yet, my welcome is sincere.”

In some parts of these states one may travel many miles without meeting a habitation; and during deep snows and severe weather there is no little danger of perishing.

In passing the Green Mountains, I experienced a very narrow escape. The weather was remarkably severe, and scarcely any one thought travelling practicable. The wind being high the snow was whirled in every direction, and the road was trackless. About 4 o’clock in the afternoon I passed a house, and, imprudently, omitted to inquire as to the distance to the next dwelling. Fortunately, {15} however, I met, after travelling three miles, an express from a neighbouring village; and he informed me that the next habitation was at the distance of two miles. To this circumstance I owe, probably, the preservation of my life.

About dark I arose a steep hill, and found myself in an open and uncovered situation. The weather was intensely cold, and the wind very high. I realized that owing to the depth of the snow, the consequent difficulty of obtaining fuel, and the probable chill which I should experience after ceasing to travel, that the wood, from which I had just emerged, could not afford me sufficient shelter. I should, however, have resorted to its partial protection in preference to exposing myself to an unsheltered opening, had I not fully presumed, from the information above noticed, that a habitation was near. There was not a moment for indecision. I marked a central course, redoubled my efforts, and in a half hour reached a comfortable hut. Here, upon taking off my cap, I found my ears frozen to an almost incredible degree.

It is high time for me to acknowledge some obligations, which have a particular claim to my gratitude, not only as it respects these stages of my tour, but throughout the whole of that part of it which was enlivened by civilization.

Benevolence and kindness are peculiar characteristics of the female heart. The mildness of her nature comports with the delicacy of her appearance; and well may Charity always be represented in feminine apparel. During my tour, the hospitality of the husband was always more than seconded by that of the wife and daughter.

Such are my respect for, and admiration of the female character; so high an opinion do I entertain both of her understanding and heart; and so narrow {16} are the views of many, even in this enlightened age, in relation to these particulars, that I may be permitted, in this little work, to become her advocate. A thousand arguments in her behalf challenge my attention; but I must not transgress the proper limits of incidental remark.

The influence of woman, in civilized life, has not yet reached its acme. The effects of her ancient condition are not entirely removed. Hereditary ignorance and oppression still partially obstruct her intellectual progress. She has, in times past, not only had to contend with an almost entire seclusion from the world, where alone theoretical and practical knowledge are blended for the improvement of the human mind, but the other sex, unconscious of moral force and influenced only by a sense of physical strength, have, in various parts of the globe, treated her as an inferior. Oh, wretched pride!—oh, disgraceful ignorance!—oh, vulgar barbarity!—the Dove of Paphos is oppressed by the Egyptian Vulture.

Even in Greece and Rome the state of woman, to speak generally, was degrading. She was suffered to share but little in the general intercourse of life; and Metellus Numidicus, in an oration to the people of Rome, speaks of her with contempt. Yet some exultingly inquire,—where are your female philosophers and poets of antiquity?

Greece and Rome were the principal theatres of ancient literature. Had the men of those times and countries been treated as the females were, we should have looked in vain for those galaxys of genius and erudition, which are the constant theme of the modern world. Had this been the case the Peripatetic Philosopher would not have written, the Mantuan Bard would not have sung. Yet, even here, Corinna was the instructress of Pindar, and in competition {17} with him obtained the prize. Mamaea too was so distinguished for wisdom, that the worthy and renowned Ulpian thought it an honor to be appointed one of her counsellors. Other cases might be introduced; but this topic is leading me too far from my main subject. One example more, however, shall be mentioned. The mighty genius of Zenobia rose above the indolence incident to the climate and manners of Asia. Her administration was guided by the most judicious maxims. She was too a linguist and historian, and expatiated upon the beauties of Homer and Plato, with the learned and eloquent Longinus.

Perhaps I may venture a little further. The peculiar sphere of the understanding is mathematics; and because there have not been great mathematicians among the female sex, she, to be sure, is to be deprived of her proper station in the department of intelligence.

Would men have been mathematicians if their education had been like that of woman? Surely not. Why then should woman, whose sphere is foreign to this pursuit, be represented as incapable of successfully engaging in it? Besides, many men of the first genius, and of the most vigorous intellect, have entertained an aversion to mathematics amounting to an incapacity to attend to them with success. The learned Gibbon declares that he entirely lost those seasons in which he was obliged to prosecute this branch of study; and Gray, in his time the first scholar in Europe, asserts that if mathematics would insure him wealth and fame, he would relinquish its advantages for the charms of general literature.

There is a diversity of taste among mankind; and the same privilege of enjoying it without censure should be granted to both sexes. The great mathematician Archimedes had but little inclination {18} for any other branch of learning than geometry; and Gray could not endure metaphysics.

There is also a diversity of talents among both sexes. The logical, learned, and eloquent Cicero failed in his attempts in poetry. How unreasonable would it be to consider him inferior to our great female poets on this account! and, of course, how unfair to deny strength of intellect to woman, because she is not conspicuous for her knowledge of mathematics!

A sense of propriety, relative to this digression, constrains me to conclude. In what respect, I ask, is woman inferior to the other sex? Heroism is a test of intellectual vigour; and woman has evinced superlative bravery, by a sudden transition from the gentle avocations of domestic life to the battle’s rage. An enlightened fortitude also argues strength of intellect. Here let men admire what they can never imitate: how much physical suffering, and how much anguish of spirit are peculiar to the female character! yet, resignation and hope are the cherub companions of her tribulation.

Modern times are throwing wonderful light upon this subject; and are developing those astonishing combinations of female sentiment and genius, which in past ages scintillated through the gloom of barbarism. A splendid list of names illustrative of this position might be here introduced; but the whole list would be too long, and a selection would be difficult. Sentiment is emphatically the highest sphere of genius; and it is the sphere where the heart becomes the great magician of intellectual life. Men are indebted to woman for what they possess of this principle; and until she made them acquainted with it they were barbarians.

Wherever I stopped, in my course through the settled parts of the country, I was much pleased {19} with the interest which my appearance excited in little children. There was a conflict exhibited in their countenances between the fears implanted by domestic education, and the native fondness of man for the hunter state. By my assuming, however, the aspect and the smile of civilization, they would come to my arms of fur, and listen attentively to the simple stories of the chase. Afterwards, they would reward my kindness to them by more solid attentions to my dogs.

In travelling from Connecticut River to Bennington, I passed through a part of Marlborough, Wilmington, Reedsbury, Stanford, and Woodford. Whilst in the latter place the weather was severe beyond a parallel. When, however, in Brattleborough, which lies immediately upon the river, the weather was much more moderate.

Whilst upon the Green Mountains my thoughts were particularly directed to the days of the Revolution, when, in the language of a British Chief, the sons of New-Hampshire and Vermont hung like a cloud upon his left. Here too I remembered that thunderbolt of war, the veteran Stark, in whose heart dwelt the very genius of his country, and who discomfited her enemies by the strength of his native hills.

On these mountains my attention was attracted by the appearance of a thick fall of snow during a clear sunshine. This appearance is not common here; and proceeds, I presume, from the little influence which the sun produces upon the state of the atmosphere in this situation. On the west side of these mountains the snow was not so deep as on the east side; and I apprehend that this is usually the case.

Within about two miles beyond this lofty ridge, Bennington is situated.[47] This town presents an ancient {20} aspect, and appears unflourishing; it is situated, however, upon a fertile tract of country, and contains several handsome buildings. The number of its houses is perhaps two hundred. Mount Anthony, in the south part of the town, makes a pleasant appearance; and the town itself is rendered interesting by the two famous battles, fought a little west of it, on the 16th of August, 1777. In these battles the celebrated General Stark acquired imperishable fame. Owing to the severity of the weather I did not visit the noted cave of Mount Anthony.

From Bennington I proceeded through Hoosuck, Pittstown, Troy, and Albany. From the former to the latter place, the distance is about thirty-five miles.

In passing through Pittstown the weather was still severe; and night having overtaken me before I could reach a public house, I was under the necessity of lodging in a log hut. The family were very poor; but the wealth of Kings could not purchase their virtues. As is the case with many other honest people, they had experienced a series of misfortunes which ultimately reduced them to penury. Two years before the period of my seeing them, their mills, the principal part of their property, had been carried away by a freshet; and a year after this event, their dwelling was consumed, with all its contents. Yet these good people were cheerful, and their poverty sat gracefully upon them. They were unable to furnish me with a bed, a comfort with which I had learned to dispense, but very readily shared with me their last loaf. For their services they charged nothing; and it was with difficulty that I persuaded them to take compensation.

The blessings of poverty are neither few nor small. It attaches an extraordinary interest to the most common acquisitions; and, when there is little {21} or no apprehension of want, it furnishes a constant source of pleasing anticipation. Under such circumstances, parents and children experience their happiest moments. Mutual love, and mutual gratulation, here heighten and sanctify every expression of the care and bounty of Providence.—There is something in virtuous poverty, which speaks of treasures laid up in Heaven.

In entering Troy I left Lansingburgh on my right. The former place is exceedingly compact and flourishing, and extends between one and two miles on the east bank of the Hudson. On the other side of the river, at the distance of six miles, Albany is situated.

This city, in relation to the state, ranks next to that of New-York; but its appearance is far from being elegant. The streets are generally narrow and crooked; and its numerous buildings in the Gothic style give to it an ancient and unpolished aspect. It is, evidently, however, a place of great trade; and must, in the nature of things, rapidly increase in wealth and population. The back country is extensive and fertile; and the public spirit of the state of New-York is affording every facility to the inland transportation of its produce.

The variety of people in Albany is great. The Dutch here still make a considerable figure; but the Americans are more numerous. This place has received many names. Its scite was originally called Aurania; and the town itself was afterwards named Beverwych, Fort Orange, Williamstadt, and, upon its capitulation to the English in 1664, it received its present appellation. This city, next to Jamestown, in Virginia, is the oldest in the United States.

This place contains many large public buildings, among which is the city-hall, hospital, armoury, {22} &c. There are here also some elegant dwelling houses; but I should not suppose the city, from its appearance, the residence of much taste or erudition. It contains, however, what some may consider an equivalent:—many families of wealth and fashion. The population of the place is about twelve thousand.

After leaving Albany I shaped my course for Niagara Falls by the way of Cherry Valley. From the city there are two roads; the left hand one leading to the last mentioned place, and the right hand one to Schenectady. The great Western Turnpike extends from Schenectady, lying on the south bank of the Mohawk, and sixteen miles from Albany, to Buffalo, a distance of about three hundred miles. The two roads above mentioned intersect about one hundred and twenty miles from Albany.[48] Upon both of them are many flourishing villages; and the produce which is conveyed from the interior to Albany, Troy, and other places in the state, is immense.

The state of New-York is very conspicuous for her public spirit. She is affording every facility, within the grasp of her mighty genius and resources, to her inland commerce. In arts, and arms, and internal improvement, she is already a Rome in miniature; and her grand Canal will vie with those of China and the Russian Empire.

In travelling over a part of the great western turnpike; and in collecting information as to the settlements and business both here and on the Mohawk, I was led to make some statistical calculations, the general result of which, together with some additional reflections, I transcribe from my journal.

The state of New-York is, of itself, a mighty republic. Her moral and physical energies; her agriculture, {23} manufactures, and commerce; and her individual enterprise and public spirit, render her omnipotent. She could contend alone and unassisted with Great-Britain. What then is the aggregate force of all our states and territories? The contemplation of their potential, and even probable physical power, within a short succession of years, presents such a manifold ratio as to overwhelm the boldest calculator.

But the moral energies of the country will, no doubt, become proportionably less. The friends of political virtue, however, must not be discouraged. The moral hero can do much towards stemming the torrent of political corruption. Besides, the vast surface over which the elements of this corruption will spread themselves, will render it, for a long course of time, comparatively harmless; and beyond this period, the influence of some Heavenly star may give to ambition and the love of power a purer spirit and a nobler aim.

In relation to this topic, the prevailing spirit of emigration, from the maritime to the inland frontier, will have a very beneficial influence. In a public point of view, great and permanent advantages will arise from the settlement of our western states and territories. But individuals from the east are not always benefitted by a removal. The principal advantages arising from such a step, are the profits on the purchase of new lands, and better crops obtained with less labour. The disadvantages are numerous. Those who can, by their industry, live well at home, will act wisely in remaining where they are. By a removal they lose a climate to which they are accustomed, good society, an opportunity to educate their children, and scenes to which their hearts will often fondly turn—The sons of New-Hampshire never forget her mountains!

{24} I shall speak more fully upon the subject of emigration in another place.

I may here introduce some facts relative to the grand canal in the State of New-York.[49] The object of this great undertaking is to facilitate the inland commerce of the State, by uniting the waters of Lake Erie with those of the Hudson. The former are much higher than the latter; but still the labour and expence necessary to complete the undertaking, will prove to be immense. To the State of New-York, however, such a work scarcely requires an effort. Her almost inexhaustible resources, directed by the genius and energy of her Clinton, could accomplish a hundred times as much. The Canal passes in the direction of Genessee river, and Seneca and Cayuga lakes; and will turn much of the trade of the west from Montreal to the city of New-York.

Soon after leaving Albany I met with Colonel P. formerly an officer under General Wayne, during his famous expedition against the indians.[50] From this gentleman I obtained many interesting facts; and spent a pleasant evening in conversing with him upon the subject of expatriation. This subject involves an abstract question of principle; and should be settled by the United States without the least reference to the opinion of civilians, or the practice of other nations. It is humiliating to see with what reverence we turn in relation to this subject, to the opinion of Blackstone, and to the contradictory positions of the British Government. The United States is the place, above all others, for correct opinions, upon questions involved in the great science of morals, as far as it respects the natural rights of individuals, the necessary modification of those rights in civil society, and the rights of nations as collective moral agents. Europe ever has been, {25} and still is a school of wrong; and those who are instructed by her participate in the sophistry of her reasoning, the tyranny of her views, and the inconsistency of her practice. The question of expatriation, is a question involving individual right, for the defence of which the aggregate strength of the whole community is guaranteed. This question, in the United States, arises from the claims of other nations to those of their subjects, who have left the territory to which they belonged without violating any municipal law upon the subject. The United States should protect all within her jurisdiction, whether upon her territory or under her flag, unless some municipal regulation of the adverse party in the question, shall have rendered the individual concerned incapable of acquiring the right to protection from the defending power. These principles should be adhered to for three reasons: the United States have a right to do so; they are bound by the civil compact, which renders protection and obedience inseparable, to do so; and it is their duty as a collective moral being to guard any individual, not under the jurisdiction of another sovereignty, from arbitrary power.

Such a course is dictated by the eternal and omnipotent principles of justice; and therefore no law of nations, which is a rule created or supposed by man, can resist them. Even that law which civilians call the voluntary law of nations, cannot, in relation to this subject, exonerate a government from those obligations which result from the social compact; because the question is grounded in the very germ of civil society; and the welfare of the whole community of nations, so far from requiring in this case an adherence to this law, renders it, upon its own principles, entirely inoperative.

{26} The internal law of nations does not militate with the above principles, because it requires only what is fair and conscientious. The customary law of nations must yield to those older and better rules which are dictated by justice. And as to the conventional law of nations, it rests upon the terms of contracts in subordination to previously existing and indispensable duties.

On the 12th of February I passed through Guelderland, Princeton, Schoharie, and Carlisle; and on the following day through Sharon, Cherry Valley, and Warren.[51] Schoharie is one of the wealthiest inland farming towns in the state of N. York.

The weather still continued remarkably severe; but my dress was so comfortable, that I had no occasion for a fire.

During my whole tour through the settled parts of the country, I found a constant source of amusement in the curiosity and variety of observation, which my appearance excited. I must, however, confess that I often wished myself less conspicuous.

It is in the moment of surprise that the human character most fully developes itself; and in travelling, during the constant operation of this cause, one may acquire much knowledge of the almost infinite variety of disposition which exists among mankind. I met, in my course, with every shade of character, from the man of reading to the totally ignorant; and from the real gentleman to the rude and vulgar.

It may amuse a portion of my readers to know some of the various impressions which were made by my appearance, and the receptions which I experienced.

People seldom knew from whence I came, or what was my place of destination; and surprise and speculation were universal. Speculation was as various {27} as the dispositions and capacities of individuals.—Some honoured me with the idea that I was Bonaparte in disguise; and some secretly suggested that I was a Wizard:—

“Who prowl’d the country far and near,
Bewitch’d the children of the peasants,
Dry’d up the cows, and lam’d the deer,
And suck’d the eggs, and kill’d the pheasants.”

Some too, imagined me an Icelander; and some a British Spy. A few treated me with rudeness, many in a very gentlemanly manner, and some, not knowing what to make of my appearance, conferred upon me the title of General, and invited me to drink with them.

With respect to the first class, I made a point of taking no notice of them, when I could with propriety avoid it; but when I could not, I always made an example of them upon the spot. Such men seldom possess even animal courage; and there are very few, even of their associates, who are not pleased to see them punished.

I may here observe, that I was impressed by the general ignorance, with respect to the manners and customs of other nations, which appeared to exist in the civilized places through which I passed; and especially in and about Albany.

It is well known, that in Russia and many other countries in the north of Europe, people generally dress, more or less, in furs; and there are some instances of such a practice, even in the Canadas.—These facts, connected with the severity of the weather which prevailed during the early stages of my tour, might, one would think, have rendered a suit of fur a less general object of surprise. Severe as our winters are, I think a garment or two of Buffalo or some other warm skin, to be worn occasionally, {28} would, to say nothing of comfort, save many a man from rheumatism, and even from being frozen to death. It is only a year or two, since the stage driver from Albany to Bennington, froze and fell from his seat. The passengers were not apprized of the event, until the horses had proceeded several miles. The power of frost upon human life is astonishing. In an unsuspecting moment the blood chills in the veins and ceases to move. The memorable winter of 1709 saw two thousand men, under the celebrated Charles the XIIth, fall dead with cold in one day.

Many other similar instances might be mentioned. As to Charles, however, he had, by habit, rendered himself almost superhuman. His person was as invulnerable to the frosts of Denieper, as was his mind to the misfortunes which finally made him a prisoner at Bender.[52]

On the evening of the 14th of February I had passed Otsego, Richfield, &c. and arrived at Plainfield. The towns between Albany and the last mentioned place are generally inconsiderable, and offer no interesting materials. They are, however, flourishing villages. During the whole of the 14th instant it snowed, and the travelling was very heavy. The general aspect of this part of the country is rather level than otherwise; there are here, however, many high and long hills. I had not yet ceased to be vulnerable to fatigue; but hardships had, in a measure, become familiar to me. I do not pretend that I did not sometimes stand in need of resolution; but men have only to move on, and difficulties become less. It is in looking ahead at the aggregate obstacles which present themselves in an undertaking, and in embodying them, as it were, in the space of a moment, that one’s mind is appalled. By meeting these obstacles in detail, we easily overcome {29} them; and then look back astonished at our apprehensions.

The Dutch mode of building, both with respect to their houses and barns, is visible in every part of the state of New-York; but American manners and customs are here absorbing all others.

The interior of this state, like that of New-Hampshire and Vermont, presents many small and ill contrived log huts; and those who have been unaccustomed to seeing such, would be surprised to find how comfortably people may live in them. These huts are sometimes without a floor, and have wooden chimnies. Men who are acquainted only with polished life, would tremble at the idea of spending their days in one of these buildings; yet, they are generally the abode of virtue, health and happiness.

On the 15th and 16th of February I passed through Eaton, Nelson, Casnove, Pompey and Manlius. The weather was very severe, the snow deep, and continually blowing. At Pompey I was so beset by ignorant impertinence and loquacious curiosity, that I found it necessary to harrangue the multitude. Having laid down for them some salutary rules upon the subject of manners, and taking their silence for an apology, I proceeded to Manlius.

Even in this part of the country, bears, wolves, and deer are numerous. During the preceding fall the depredations of the two former were very great; and the bounty offered for wolves, by some of the counties in the state, was ninety dollars.

During the 17th the weather was still severe and the wind high. I passed Onondago[53] and Marcellus. Throughout these townships there are high and low hills. Owing to them, and to the depth of snow, my fatigue was great. My health also had suffered by many days and nights of severe tooth-ache. In {30} passing through these and many other places, I experienced attentions from people of consideration; and was frequently introduced to their families.

Onondago was formerly the chief town of the Six Nations; and lies on the south of the lake of that name. This lake is sometimes called salt lake; and the springs near its shores produce immense quantities of salt. The Onondago Indians reside near this lake; but their numbers are diminishing.

During the 18th, 19th and 20th of February I travelled through Brutus, Aurelius, Auburn, Cayuga, Junius, and Waterloo.[54] The weather in this part of the country had been for several days, and still was colder than had been before known there. The snow likewise was remarkably deep. Cayuga Lake is about forty miles in length, and from two to four miles broad. The famous bridge across it is more than one mile in length. On the banks of this lake the Cayuga Indians reside.

The Six Nations of Indians above mentioned are the Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagoes, Senecas, Cayugas and Tuscaroras. The Stockbridge and Brotherton Indians now live with the united tribes.[55] Notwithstanding these, and many other tribes are still in possession of vast tracts of land, and receive annually considerable sums from the United States, and also from individual states, they are occasionally emigrating to the wildernesses of Canada. Still wild and untameable, the surrounding aspect of civilization alarms them; and they silence the suggestions of jealousy by removing to pathless and illimitable forests.

Many of the villages on the Western Turnpike have made their appearance within a very few years; and the vast resources of the interior of the state of New-York are daily developing.

{31} During this part of my tour a little incident occurred, which resulted so pleasantly, and so fully evinced the policy as well as propriety of a certain course of conduct, that I am induced to mention it. In one of the last named towns, I was, whilst at a public house, furiously assailed by words and threats, by a man, who evidently had been of considerable consideration in society, but who had become a sot, and was at this time much intoxicated. As he was not in a situation to defend himself, there could have been no display of true courage in punishing him; and besides, he was already an object of pity. To his imbecile fury, therefore, I presented only a steady eye. He drew back. In a few minutes, however, he made another assault; and again yielded to a firm and silent aspect. A few hours after I met him in another place. His inebriety had, in a great measure, left him; he was very sorry for his conduct, and expressed towards me much good will.

I have observed, that I was seldom known; and as I appeared to be a person travelling in disguise, some pains were taken to ascertain who I was. The suggestions respecting me were very numerous; and a great many bets were made, and many expedients resorted to in relation to my origin, destination, and business. Some imagined me to be upon a secret expedition for the government. My manners seldom comporting with my mode of living, the multitude were at a loss to know to what class in society I belonged. They heard me converse like other people; but seldom saw me eat or drink, and were surprised to view me sleeping with my dogs upon the bare floor.

In my course through the upper part of the state of New-York, I spent many a pleasant evening, surrounded by a great variety of character, and seated {32} by a huge western fire. During these seasons some political question would often arise, and it was interesting to witness the debates. Upon one occasion a serious legal question, long agitated in the neighbourhood, was introduced; and being a limb of the law, I involuntarily made an observation upon it. Bets soon began to run high, and the Pedestrian was appointed umpire.

It is unpleasant for one to speak of himself.—Many anecdotes, which would be interesting to my friends, must be omitted.

In the course of a few days after leaving Waterloo, I passed through many towns, the principal of which are Romulus, Ovid, Hector, Ulysses, and Geneva; also Canandaigua, the two Bloomfields and Lima; and in addition to these Avon, Caledonia and Batavia.[56] Some of these towns, especially the two Bloomfields and Lima, constitute a remarkably handsome and rich tract of country.

Canandaigua is situated at the north of the lake of this name; and many of the buildings of this place are large and elegant. The lake is about eighteen or twenty miles long, and two or three miles broad.

But it would have been in order first to speak of Seneca lake, which lies east of lake Canandaigua. Seneca lake is about thirty-five miles long, and about two miles wide. The numerous lakes in the interior of the state of New-York, are admirably calculated to promote her inland commerce. Whilst they furnish by their numbers, and their positions the means of connecting her resources, and promoting the trade and intercourse of her people, they are not so large as to occupy an unnecessary portion of her territory. Every thing, in relation to New-York, is conspiring to render her a wonderfully powerful State.

{33} Whilst in Canandaigua the court was sitting; and owing to some novel proceedings there, one or two thousand people were assembled. After pressing through the crowd, and obtaining some information respecting my course, I proceeded on my way.

Not long after I formed a particular acquaintance with Doctor S. He introduced me to his family, and entertained me in a very hospitable and friendly manner. The Doctor, being no less fond of an innocent joke than he was conspicuous for his good sense and benevolence, proposed in the course of the evening, his introducing me to a shrewd old neighbour of his, as a relation who lived on some far distant mountain, and who had been long absent. I readily assented to the proposition, and we both agreed upon the parts which we were to act. Owing, however, to an unnatural performance on my part, or to some other cause, the neighbour detected the deception. But the assay resulted in considerable amusement; and after drinking to the health of each other, the Doctor and myself left the old gentleman to exult in his penetration.

At 3 o’clock the next morning, I was awakened by the rich and lofty notes of the bugle-horn, and entertained by several superb martial songs. At daylight we sat down to a good breakfast; and immediately after I resumed my march.

Amidst all these pleasant circumstances, my dogs had accidentally been neglected; and seeing their master fare so well, they at length took the liberty to help themselves. The larder of Mrs. S. being open, they espied there a large pan of baked pork and beans; and without ceremony,—or knife and fork divided the former between them; leaving the beans for those who were less carnivorous. After this broad hint on their part, the lady of the house fed them to their heart’s content.

{34} During my tour, thus far, I formed many valuable acquaintances.

Here I may remark that from Albany to the remote interior of New-York, there is, generally speaking, but little hospitality; and the love of money there displays itself in the high prices which are charged for provisions. Immense profits are realized by the retailer at the expense of the traveller. I have always noticed in my travels, that the newer a settlement is, the more prevalent is hospitality. This great virtue is much more conspicuous among the poor, than among those who possess more than a competency. Here avarice begins its reign; and every virtue is blasted by its poisonous influence.

In this part of the country, and in many other places I often found it convenient to stop at the log huts of poor emigrants. From the inmates of these huts I always experienced a kind and generous welcome; and in almost every case I ascertained that they were from New-Hampshire or Vermont.—They would generally refuse to take any compensation for their services; and were so afraid of violating the sacred principles of hospitality, that I could only leave my money upon their table, or cast it as a play thing to their children. Oh! how many tutelary angels shield the cot of the poor and virtuous man, whilst the splendid habitations of the rich and dissipated, receive only the averted eye of offended Heaven.