Chapter 7 of 29 · 3991 words · ~20 min read

Part 7

As for myself, I remained perfectly well until November, when, one morning, my right eye was attacked with inflammation and swelling; and the next morning my left eye was attacked in the same manner. The inflammation gradually increased, so that in about three weeks I was totally blind. My surgeon, a very skilful man, made every exertion for my recovery, and about the middle {57} of December I could discern light; and in ten or twelve days after, could distinguish colors. My surgeon now being called into another section of the country, was absent about three weeks, when, from the want of proper assistance, I grew worse, and was again in total darkness. On his return, using every means in his power, I was so far restored in a few weeks as to be able to discern light; and continuing very slowly to gain until the first of April. I could then see to distinguish capital letters.

A neighboring physician then calling in, advised my old surgeon to make a new application, which he did, and to the expense of the total loss of my sight. I now almost gave up all hopes of recovery; but not willing wholly to despair, attempts were once more made; and by the middle of August I could once more discern colors. Hearing much said of the eye infirmary in the city of New-York, I resolved to visit that place; and on the thirteenth of August, 1821, went on board a steamboat, proceeded down the lake two hundred and fifty miles to Buffalo; thence in a waggon one hundred and six miles to Geneva;[37] then went on board a boat down the Seneca Lake, crossed the Cayuga Lake into the Erie canal,[38] thence to Utica, where I took the stage for Albany. After travelling about forty-five miles, was attacked with fever and ague, and was obliged to stop three days; then went on board a boat down the Mohawk river to Schenectady,[39] then in a waggon to Albany, where I tarried three weeks, and then went on board a packet to New-York, where I arrived the first day of October. I stayed here five days, called at the infirmary several times, and conversed with different patients who had been there for a considerable time; they discouraged me by saying they had found little or no relief, and thought there were no hopes for me; at the same time adding, that if I would go to Boston, I might do much better. I considered the thing well, took their advice, was assisted out on the turnpike, where on foot and alone I proceeded on through New Haven, Hartford and Worcester, and without difficulty found the way to Concord, Massachusetts, where I arrived on the twentieth of October, after an absence of six years. Some time after {58} this I applied to several of the most eminent physicians and surgeons in Boston, and finally went into the General Hospital in that place, where I underwent various medical and surgical treatment to no effect; and giving up all hope of ever enjoying that light which the benevolent Creator has ordained for the happiness and comfort of man, I have hitherto spent my time comfortably, destitute of property, in the company and society of my friends.

EVANS’S PEDESTRIOUS TOUR OF FOUR THOUSAND MILES—1818

Reprint of the original edition: Concord, New-Hampshire, 1819

[Illustration: [Man]]

A PEDESTRIOUS TOUR, OF _FOUR THOUSAND MILES_, THROUGH THE WESTERN STATES AND TERRITORIES, DURING THE WINTER AND SPRING OF 1818.

_INTERSPERSED_ WITH BRIEF REFLECTIONS UPON A GREAT VARIETY OF TOPICS:

_RELIGIOUS, MORAL, POLITICAL, SENTIMENTAL, &c. &c._

BY ESTWICK EVANS.

“The blast of the north is on the plain:—the traveller shrinks in the midst of his journey.”

_CONCORD: N. H._ PRINTED BY JOSEPH C. SPEAR. 1819.

DISTRICT OF NEW-HAMPSHIRE, TO WIT:

BE IT REMEMBERED, That on the 10th day of December, 1818, and in the forty-third year of the Independence of the United States of America, ESTWICK EVANS, of the said District, has deposited in this Office the title of a Book, the right whereof he claims as Author, in the words following, TO WIT:

“A Pedestrious Tour of Four Thousand miles, through the western States and Territories, during the winter and spring of 1818; interspersed with brief reflections upon a great variety of topics: religious, moral, political, sentimental, &c. &c. By ESTWICK EVANS.

“The blast of the north is on the plain; the traveller shrinks in the midst of his journey.”

In conformity to an act of the Congress of the United States, entitled, “An Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of such copies,” during the times therein mentioned: and also to an act entitled “An Act supplementary to An Act,” entitled an act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned; and extending the benefits thereof to the Arts of Designing, Engraving, and Etching Historical and other Prints.

PEYTON R. FREEMAN, Clerk, of the District of New-Hampshire.

DISTRICT OF NEW-HAMPSHIRE, TO WIT:

BE IT REMEMBERED, That on the 18th day of January, 1819, and in the forty-third year of the Independence of the United States of America, ESTWICK EVANS, of the said District, hath deposited in this Office the title of a Book, the right whereof he claims as Author, in the words following, TO WIT:

“The blast of the north is on the plain; the traveller shrinks in the midst of his journey.”

In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled, “An Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of such copies,” during the times therein mentioned.

PEYTON R. FREEMAN, Clerk, of the District of New-Hampshire. A true copy of Record, Attest, PEYTON R. FREEMAN, Clerk.

_The author is sensible that there are some typographical and other errors in the following work; but as they will be found few and_ inconsiderable, _it is not deemed worth while to notice them_.

PREFACE

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.