Part 10
I may improve this opportunity to make a few additional reflections upon foreign commerce. The advocates of this interest, under the pretence of attaching to it a consequence only equal to that of agriculture, have laboured to prove that the former is even paramount to the latter,—that the country is almost exclusively a commercial nation. One of these advocates, in a speech delivered in Congress in January 1814, advances such a principle. Much as I admire the sublime complexion of his intellect, and the enlightened majesty of his heart, I must say that his position is altogether exceptionable.—He observes, in the above mentioned speech, that the _principal_ motive for adopting the constitution of the general government was the protection and extension of commerce. So far from this being the {41} case, the great and principal conditions and objects of our national compact, were individual security and the advancement of the true interests of the country. It must have been well known, that a state of things might exist which would render an abandonment of foreign commerce absolutely necessary to the preservation of our liberties,—to the protection of individual right, and even the very existence of the nation.
But I go much further. Our commercial interests are of far less consequence than those of agriculture. The former are not essential to our independence and comfort. They do not even exist until agriculture has so far advanced as to furnish more than sufficient provisions for the support of the whole community; not only for those who labour in agriculture, but also for labourers in manufactures and other mechanical employments; for those who are engaged in domestic commerce; for those who are engaged in promoting intellectual improvement; and lastly, for those who, owing to infancy, old age, disease and other causes are unable to work. When this state of things commences, and not before, foreign commerce begins its career. Here the people inquire what they shall do with their surplus produce, and being unable to find a market for it at home, endeavour to find for it a foreign market. Hence arise foreign commercial relations. As to the luxuries which foreign commerce produces, our constitution certainly never made provision for their introduction.
It remains for me to notice the subject of domestic emigration, in relation to the individual advantage which may arise from it.
The views of mankind with respect to the sources of true happiness are, generally speaking, very erroneous. This effect arises principally from inconsideration. {42} We see enough in the Divine Word in the book of nature, and in the suggestions of conscience to convince us, that our relation to a future state of existence is of wonderful import. The first questions which we should ask ourselves are:—what was the design of our creation? and what duties does this design inculcate? As far as is consistent with these great views, man may innocently consult his inclinations. Indeed they were given for the twofold purpose of rational gratification, and to furnish him with an opportunity, when their indulgence would be irrational, to display his virtue by self controul. The more strictly we conform to that purity of heart and holiness of life which the gospel inculcates, the more exalted will be our nature, the higher our standard of happiness, and the more perfect our preparation for the society of Heaven.
The present life is, no doubt, a season of probation. Here we are to form a character for a future and permanent state of existence. Consistently with the endeavour duly to improve our intellectual, moral, and religious nature, it is important for man to exert himself to obtain a comfortable support. Generally speaking, however, this should be the limit of his views. It is most consistent with the uncertain tenure of human life, and most congenial to the growth of virtue and the production of happiness. A wish to acquire a great estate can be sanctioned only by an equal desire to employ it in effecting charitable purposes, and in aiding institutions which have in view individual and public advantage. The desire of great wealth for other purposes is criminal. It is dictated by a spirit of luxury, by pride, by extravagance, by a spirit of vain competition, or, what is worse than all, by avarice. As for leaving great estates to children, no wise or kind parent will ever do it. Industry will, generally speaking, produce a {43} competency; and economy will, in time, convert that competency into wealth.
But I must speak more directly to the point.—From motives of patriotism one may emigrate from the east to the west, especially to a frontier state or territory; and he will, perhaps, find in this removal great individual profit. The circumstances of men are various. Emigrations are sometimes advantageous and sometimes otherwise;—advantageous in point of health and in point of property. Many, however, lose both instead of gaining either by a removal. There are many erroneous views entertained upon this subject: and it is, principally, because men are governed, in relation to it, more by feelings than by ideas. The subject interests the imagination; and pleasing anticipations upon a new topic, always afford more satisfaction, than the actual possession of that which is as valuable as the object itself, the future possession of which is anticipated. Many persons by emigration have become rich; but does it follow that they might not have become so at home? Many too by moving from place to place have become poor. Had they been stationary they might at least have secured to themselves a competency. There are almost innumerable advantages and disadvantages in relation to this subject, and the balance must be stricken according to the circumstances of each individual. Those whose object is to acquire a good living by their industry, and who can obtain this at home, will act unwisely in changing their situation. They cannot more fully gratify their views by a removal: and by such a step they abandon what is necessary and certain for what is at once unnecessary and precarious. They might, perhaps, obtain abroad, with less labour, what they now obtain at home; but they are not aware how essential industry is to their happiness. {44} It gives a zest to food, and sleep, and social intercourse; and also furnishes substantial rest;—a luxury of which the idle are ignorant. Some have been so imprudent as to abandon the home of their infancy, where the comforts of life could have been obtained by a good degree of industry. What were the consequences? perhaps wealth;—but it was unnecessary;—perhaps poverty, disease and premature death. Some too, even in advanced life, and after spending their time in clearing a tract of land, so as to render it fertile and easy of cultivation, have sacrificed a comfortable and pleasant old age for new perils and labours in the western wilds.
The great complaint of the people of the east is, that their agricultural labours are great and their crops small. This declaration is, in some degree, correct; but its truth arises, principally, from our cultivating too much land. And yet we are ready to make great sacrifices for the purpose of obtaining vast tracts in the west. It is admitted that the land of the west is, generally speaking, more fertile than ours; but it does not follow that it will always be so, or that ours may not be rendered sufficiently fertile. New land is always most productive. It has been enriching itself for ages. But its fertility will, upon being cultivated, become less. We see the truth of these remarks in the cultivation of our own new lands. But I will not conceal the fact, that the western lands are naturally more fertile than those of the east. Some of the former are almost inexhaustibly rich; but others of them will, in time, become poor; and then will not be so easily rendered fertile as those of the east. The eastern land too is stronger, more durable, retains moisture longer, and of course more easily preserves its fertility. This is particularly the case in its comparison with the land of Kentucky. That State is exposed {45} to great drouth. Its pan being limestone, and its soil consisting of loam, but little rain is imbibed, and that little is soon lost through the pores of the limestone, and by evaporation. To the great quantities of limestone in Kentucky, its caves and petrefactions are to be attributed. Moisture is absolutely necessary to vegetation. The richest land without it is entirely unproductive. Upon this principle it is decidedly injurious to deprive land of its small stones. They not only cause it to retain moisture; but, by keeping it light, enable it to receive much rain. They also render the earth warm, and admit into it the necessary quantity of air. By depriving land of its stones the earth falls into a solid mass, and the consequence is, that it imbibes but a small portion of rain. The stones of our fields should be rolled in as soon as the grain is sowed. On the surface they will be useless, and very troublesome.
I have suggested, that we cultivate too much land to render agriculture profitable. I speak in relation to the means which we employ for fertilizing our land. Much may be done without the aid of manure; but the use of this article is the most ready and efficient mode of rendering the cultivation of the earth profitable. Instead, however, of increasing this article by compost, we misapply that which is incident to our farms. By spreading a small quantity of manure upon a large piece of poor land, it is almost entirely lost; in as much as it remains in an inactive state. There is not a sufficient quantity to give an impetus to the cold and barren earth with which it is mixed. This is one great cause of poor crops; and the great surface over which the labour of the husbandman is spread is the principal ground of the excessive labour of which he complains. Should the farmer plough {46} only as much land as he could highly manure, his labour would be comparatively small, his crops great, and his land constantly improving. By this mode of proceeding the crops would not exhaust the land; and the quantity of manure upon it, beyond what is necessary to the production of the crops, would, by its fermentation, fertilize and render of the nature of compost the whole cultivated surface. Such land may, with a trifling expense, be kept very rich. Whilst this process is operating upon a part of the poor lands of a farm, the residue of them may lie fallow, or be fertilized by ploughing in such green crops as may be produced upon a lean soil.
The extraordinary means of enriching land are numerous. A little reflection upon the most common principles of philosophy will point them out. The elements, acting upon each other, are constantly producing effects, and the latter operate as causes in the production of effects more remote. Different soils, and different manures, and different crops must all be connected according to their respective and relative natures.
The materials for making compost upon a farm are almost innumerable; and leisure hours, which would otherwise be lost, may be employed in collecting them. Another extraordinary mean of fertilizing the earth is frequent ploughing. This work, especially when performed at particular times, is highly useful. It separates the unproductive masses, and opens the soil more fully to the impregnations of that vegetable nourishment which is contained in rain, dew, and even the air itself. Ploughing land when the dew is on the ground is very beneficial. I may add, that the ploughing in of stubble as soon as the crops are off, is of much consequence.
{47} Wet land should be drained, and, when practicable, land comparatively high should be overflown. The soil of the former should, in some cases, be spread upon the latter; and that of the latter applied in the same way upon the former. Overflowing may sometimes be employed conveniently and to much advantage.
I have said that moisture is absolutely necessary to vegetation. This country is rather subject to drouth than otherwise; and hence, principally, arises the occasional failure of our crops. One cause of the great fertility of England is the frequent rains there. With us there is more rain than in Great-Britain; but in the latter place it falls, not in torrents as is sometimes the case with us, but in gentle and more frequent showers. Wet seasons are never unfruitful.
Another mode of rendering land productive is by a change of crops. Different plants require a different kind of nourishment, and a piece of land may contain a greater quantity of one kind of vegetable food than of another. All crops, in a greater or less degree, consume, in time, their peculiar food; and of course require a change of situation. To make this change, among the variety of crops on a farm, with judgment, requires both theoretical and practical knowledge in husbandry.
A change of seed also is of consequence. Seed carried from the north to the south, and likewise from the east to the west will do better than that which comes from a milder climate. Sowing seed upon the ground which produced it is highly disadvantageous. By a change of seed the action of the soil upon it is more animated. Improvement of seed too in agriculture is of consequence. That which is first ripe and most perfect should be selected; {48} and the mode of preserving it requires attention.
With respect to the raising of cattle too we act as unwisely as we do in relation to the cultivation of our land. According to the limited productions of our farms, our cattle are too numerous. We lose one half of the food appropriated for them, by applying it to too great a number. In many cases our cattle are not worth so much in the spring of the year as they were in the preceding fall. Our swine, in particular, are kept poor until the crops come in, and then it costs to fatten them three times as much as they are worth: the consequence is that the farmer, before another fall, complains of his want of corn.
Great improvements may be made in relation to the breed and feeding of cattle. A change of stock is as important here as in agriculture. It may also be observed, that present profit is too frequently consulted at the expense of ultimate loss. The farmer sells all his best cattle to the butcher, or kills them for his own use, before their real value is suffered to develope itself, and to eventuate in the improvement of his stock.
The agricultural societies established in New-England, and in other states of the Union, within a few years, have produced much individual and public benefit. That of Massachusetts is rendering her, with respect to this subject, the rival of Great-Britain. New-Hampshire is doing something in this way; and her legislature should immediately encourage her agricultural interests.
As to the means of increasing our crops, much more might be offered; but the nature of this work will not warrant it. Although many of our farmers do well, all might do better; and it cannot be denied that many of us are very negligent agriculturalists. How many of our lands are {49} ploughed only once, and that very imperfectly!—How many of our pastures are injured by the promiscuous range of swine, geese, and every other creature on a farm! How many of our orchards are left for years uncultivated and unpruned! How many of our mowing fields are, both in the spring and fall, shamefully poached and grubbed by horses and sheep, as well as horned cattle! How much neglect is there in the collection of fodder, and how much waste in the application of it! With us there are many errors to be corrected, and many improvements to be made. This topic is important, interesting, and exhaustless; but I must dismiss it, after making a very few additional remarks. As to our orchards, and the grazing of our mowing fields in the spring, I trust that we shall speedily abandon practices which are so disgraceful and so injurious. The most vigorous roots of grass shoot first. Those our cattle crop. The future growth is feeble; and grass, which springs after the season for it, is always puny. With respect to our orchards, we seem to think that they require no cultivation; that we have only to set down the trees, and all will be well: but the nature of things should convince us of the irrationality of our views upon this point. Trees require manuring and cultivating as much as any other plant.
I return to the comparison between the east and the west. However high may be the reputation of {50} the western lands, they are decidedly inferior to ours, as a grazing country. Another advantage which we possess over the west is, the superiority of our market. There is a much greater disproportion between the prices, than between the crops of the two sections of the country. Our crops are something less; but the prices which we obtain for our produce are much higher than those of the west. As to the prices too, of many articles, such as clothing and groceries, the advantage is with us; the people of the west being obliged to pay for the expense of transportation, and also the profits of the western retailer.
In point of health, the air of the west is not so salubrious as that of the east. The country being still covered with forests, its streams are noxious; and being too, a level country, its evaporations are great. These circumstances produce diseases of a peculiar and fatal nature. Our mountains are entirely free from them.
With respect to religious privileges, morals, means of education, and social intercourse, the west is at present, and will be for some time to come, far inferior to the east.
As to relations and friends, which emigrants frequently leave behind them, every one will judge for himself; but surely to a disinterested and susceptible heart, this sacrifice is not inconsiderable. When persons of this cast of character reflect upon the fleeting nature of time, its vicissitudes, and the need which they frequently feel of the society and solace of their friends, they will wish to spend with them the days of their pilgrimage, to participate with them in the little joys of life, and to commune together upon the hopes of a better world.
In concluding my reflections upon the subject of emigration, I may observe that in no case is it necessary {51} for the people of the east to emigrate to the western country. There is in the former an ample field for labour; and the reward of this labour is sufficient for every rational purpose of life. Whilst men complain of labour, they add to it by speculating upon foreign means of enjoyment, when at the same time they possess every source of happiness, excepting gratitude and contentment. Many persons, by extravagance, become embarrassed, and then censure the times, and complain of their lot instead of applying to industry and economy for relief. Economy will perform wonders. Nothing is more true than the adage that a penny saved is a penny earned. The state of things, for several years past, has been teaching us a salutary lesson upon this subject; and all can now live within their income without wounding their pride. In economising, however, we must avoid parsimony, which soon leads to avarice—the source of all crime, and all littleness.
I have already written much; but, according to my journal, it is still February, I have progressed only within sixty miles of the Heights of Queenstown, and the storms of winter still rage.
In my course through the western parts of the state of New-York, I generally travelled within forty miles of Lake Ontario. In this part of the country many of the people entertain strange notions respecting supernatural agencies. Solitude, whilst it strengthens the mind, and fortifies the heart of the well informed, renders the ignorant timid and superstitious. The whisper of their forests, and the echo of their hills, alarm their unenlightened imaginations. Those inhabitants of the west, of whom I am now speaking, believe in witchcraft, and often suppose it the source of disease both in man and beast. Whilst on the borders of Ontario, I stopped for a few moments at a log hut where there was a man in a convulsion {52} fit. During the operation of the malady, my attention was attracted by the conversation of two young women upon the subject. One of them observed that if a garment of the man should be taken off and thrown into the fire, the fit would leave him, and never again return. The other assented to the idea; but the prescription was not attended to. Perhaps they were afraid of being bewitched themselves. It is a very common idea too, in the remote parts of New-York, that if a man should shoot an owl with his rifle, it would be rendered so crooked as never to throw ball true again.
I may here say a word of the backwoodsmen. They are hardy, active, industrious, and in the employment of the axe, wonderfully strong and dexterous. But, with respect to manners, some of them are no less rude than the wilds which they inhabit.
The upper part of the state of New-York is, comparatively, a wilderness. There are here many Indian reserves. They are solitary places; they are dark spots on the face of civilization. The tawny inhabitants of these gloomy forests generally establish themselves in the most remote situations, and render the access to them indirect and difficult. Whenever I entered their villages, they seemed, by their manner towards each other, to say: “This civil wretch has found out our retreat.” There is a shyness and wildness in their aspect, no less significant than such a declaration. No cause of wonder is it, that these persecuted beings look with a jealous eye upon the descendants of those Europeans, who drove their ancestors from the pleasant regions of the east. They see no end to the avarice, the claims, or the progress of white men; and view themselves between the horrors of civilization, and the illimitable expanse of the Pacific ocean.
{53} Barbarous as are the Indians of North America, they possess much greatness, and many virtues. Considering their prejudices against us, which prejudices are incident to their education, and by no means groundless, they evince much forbearance, and even friendship towards us.
Near one of the Indian reserves, I met five of these children of nature. As I had not seen one for fifteen years before, I was much interested in their appearance. In approaching them I presented a grave but friendly aspect. Their gravity at first exceeded mine, but they soon became rather sociable. After some little conversation we parted, not, however, until they had taken much notice of my “varm drase.” In the course of a few hours, I passed what is called an Indian opening. It was an exposed situation of many miles in extent; the weather was severe, the snow deep, and the wind continually whirled it about the unsheltered traveller.