I wish I could be acquainted with the feelings and thoughts which

must agitate the heart and present themselves to the mind of an

enlightened Englishman, when he first lands on this continent. He

must greatly rejoice that he lived at a time to see this fair

country discovered and settled; he must necessarily feel a share of

national pride, when he views the chain of settlements which

embellishes these extended shores. When he says to himself, this is

the work of my countrymen, who, when convulsed by factions,

afflicted by a variety of miseries and wants, restless and

impatient, took refuge here. They brought along with them their

national genius, to which they principally owe what liberty they

enjoy, and what substance they possess. Here he sees the industry of

his native country displayed in a new manner, and traces in their

works the embryos of all the arts, sciences, and ingenuity which

nourish in Europe. Here he beholds fair cities, substantial

villages, extensive fields, an immense country filled with decent

houses, good roads, orchards, meadows, and bridges, where an hundred

years ago all was wild, woody, and uncultivated! What a train of

pleasing ideas this fair spectacle must suggest; it is a prospect

which must inspire a good citizen with the most heartfelt pleasure.

The difficulty consists in the manner of viewing so extensive a

scene. He is arrived on a new continent; a modern society offers

itself to his contemplation, different from what he had hitherto

seen. It is not composed, as in Europe, of great lords who possess

everything, and of a herd of people who have nothing. Here are no

aristocratical families, no courts, no kings, no bishops, no

ecclesiastical dominion, no invisible power giving to a few a very

visible one; no great manufacturers employing thousands, no great

refinements of luxury. The rich and the poor are not so far removed

from each other as they are in Europe. Some few towns excepted, we

are all tillers of the earth, from Nova Scotia to West Florida. We

are a people of cultivators, scattered over an immense territory,

communicating with each other by means of good roads and navigable

rivers, united by the silken bands of mild government, all

respecting the laws, without dreading their power, because they are

equitable. We are all animated with the spirit of an industry which

is unfettered and unrestrained, because each person works for

himself. If he travels through our rural districts he views not the

hostile castle, and the haughty mansion, contrasted with the clay-

built hut and miserable cabin, where cattle and men help to keep

each other warm, and dwell in meanness, smoke, and indigence. A

pleasing uniformity of decent competence appears throughout our

habitations. The meanest of our log-houses is a dry and comfortable

habitation. Lawyer or merchant are the fairest titles our towns

afford; that of a farmer is the only appellation of the rural

inhabitants of our country. It must take some time ere he can

reconcile himself to our dictionary, which is but short in words of

dignity, and names of honour. There, on a Sunday, he sees a

congregation of respectable farmers and their wives, all clad in

neat homespun, well mounted, or riding in their own humble waggons.

There is not among them an esquire, saving the unlettered

magistrate. There he sees a parson as simple as his flock, a farmer

who does not riot on the labour of others. We have no princes, for

whom we toil, starve, and bleed: we are the most perfect society now

existing in the world. Here man is free as he ought to be; nor is

this pleasing equality so transitory as many others are. Many ages

will not see the shores of our great lakes replenished with inland

nations, nor the unknown bounds of North America entirely peopled.

Who can tell how far it extends? Who can tell the millions of men

whom it will feed and contain? for no European foot has as yet

travelled half the extent of this mighty continent!

The next wish of this traveller will be to know whence came all

these people? they are a mixture of English, Scotch, Irish, French,

Dutch, Germans, and Swedes. From this promiscuous breed, that race

now called Americans have arisen. The eastern provinces must indeed

be excepted, as being the unmixed descendants of Englishmen. I have

heard many wish that they had been more intermixed also: for my

part, I am no wisher, and think it much better as it has happened.

They exhibit a most conspicuous figure in this great and variegated

picture; they too enter for a great share in the pleasing

perspective displayed in these thirteen provinces. I know it is

fashionable to reflect on them, but I respect them for what they

have done; for the accuracy and wisdom with which they have settled

their territory; for the decency of their manners; for their early

love of letters; their ancient college, the first in this

hemisphere; for their industry; which to me who am but a farmer, is

the criterion of everything. There never was a people, situated as

they are, who with so ungrateful a soil have done more in so short a

time. Do you think that the monarchical ingredients which are more

prevalent in other governments, have purged them from all foul

stains? Their histories assert the contrary.

In this great American asylum, the poor of Europe have by some means

met together, and in consequence of various causes; to what purpose

should they ask one another what countrymen they are? Alas, two

thirds of them had no country. Can a wretch who wanders about, who

works and starves, whose life is a continual scene of sore

affliction or pinching penury; can that man call England or any

other kingdom his country? A country that had no bread for him,

whose fields procured him no harvest, who met with nothing but the

frowns of the rich, the severity of the laws, with jails and

punishments; who owned not a single foot of the extensive surface of

this planet? No! urged by a variety of motives, here they came.

Every thing has tended to regenerate them; new laws, a new mode of

living, a new social system; here they are become men: in Europe

they were as so many useless plants, wanting vegetative mould, and

refreshing showers; they withered, and were mowed down by want,

hunger, and war; but now by the power of transplantation, like all

other plants they have taken root and flourished! Formerly they were

not numbered in any civil lists of their country, except in those of

the poor; here they rank as citizens. By what invisible power has

this surprising metamorphosis been performed? By that of the laws

and that of their industry. The laws, the indulgent laws, protect

them as they arrive, stamping on them the symbol of adoption; they

receive ample rewards for their labours; these accumulated rewards

procure them lands; those lands confer on them the title of freemen,

and to that title every benefit is affixed which men can possibly

require. This is the great operation daily performed by our laws.

From whence proceed these laws? From our government. Whence the

government? It is derived from the original genius and strong desire

of the people ratified and confirmed by the crown. This is the great

chain which links us all, this is the picture which every province

exhibits, Nova Scotia excepted.

There the crown has done all; either there were no people who had

genius, or it was not much attended to: the consequence is, that the

province is very thinly inhabited indeed; the power of the crown in

conjunction with the musketos has prevented men from settling there.

Yet some parts of it flourished once, and it contained a mild

harmless set of people. But for the fault of a few leaders, the

whole were banished. The greatest political error the crown ever

committed in America, was to cut off men from a country which wanted

nothing but men!

What attachment can a poor European emigrant have for a country

where he had nothing? The knowledge of the language, the love of a

few kindred as poor as himself, were the only cords that tied him:

his country is now that which gives him land, bread, protection, and

consequence: Ubi panis ibi patria, is the motto of all emigrants.

What then is the American, this new man? He is either an European,

or the descendant of an European, hence that strange mixture of

blood, which you will find in no other country. I could point out to

you a family whose grandfather was an Englishman, whose wife was

Dutch, whose son married a French woman, and whose present four sons

have now four wives of different nations. He is an American, who,

leaving behind him all his ancient prejudices and manners, receives

new ones from the new mode of life he has embraced, the new

government he obeys, and the new rank he holds. He becomes an

American by being received in the broad lap of our great Alma Mater.

Here individuals of all nations are melted into a new race of men,

whose labours and posterity will one day cause great changes in the

world. Americans are the western pilgrims, who are carrying along

with them that great mass of arts, sciences, vigour, and industry

which began long since in the east; they will finish the great

circle. The Americans were once scattered all over Europe; here they

are incorporated into one of the finest systems of population which

has ever appeared, and which will hereafter become distinct by the

power of the different climates they inhabit. The American ought

therefore to love this country much better than that wherein either

he or his forefathers were born. Here the rewards of his industry

follow with equal steps the progress of his labour; his labour is

founded on the basis of nature, SELF-INTEREST: can it want a

stronger allurement? Wives and children, who before in vain demanded

of him a morsel of bread, now, fat and frolicsome, gladly help their

father to clear those fields whence exuberant crops are to arise to

feed and to clothe them all; without any part being claimed, either

by a despotic prince, a rich abbot, or a mighty lord. Here religion

demands but little of him; a small voluntary salary to the minister,

and gratitude to God; can he refuse these? The American is a new

man, who acts upon new principles; he must therefore entertain new

ideas, and form new opinions. From involuntary idleness, servile

dependence, penury, and useless labour, he has passed to toils of a

very different nature, rewarded by ample subsistence.--This is an

American.

British America is divided into many provinces, forming a large

association, scattered along a coast 1500 miles extent and about 200

wide. This society I would fain examine, at least such as it appears

in the middle provinces; if it does not afford that variety of

tinges and gradations which may be observed in Europe, we have

colours peculiar to ourselves. For instance, it is natural to

conceive that those who live near the sea, must be very different

from those who live in the woods; the intermediate space will afford

a separate and distinct class.

Men are like plants; the goodness and flavour of the fruit proceeds

from the peculiar soil and exposition in which they grow. We are

nothing but what we derive from the air we breathe, the climate we

inhabit, the government we obey, the system of religion we profess,

and the nature of our employment. Here you will find but few crimes;

these have acquired as yet no root among us. I wish I was able to

trace all my ideas; if my ignorance prevents me from describing them

properly, I hope I shall be able to delineate a few of the outlines,

which are all I propose.

Those who live near the sea, feed more on fish than on flesh, and

often encounter that boisterous element. This renders them more bold

and enterprising; this leads them to neglect the confined

occupations of the land. They see and converse with a variety of

people, their intercourse with mankind becomes extensive. The sea

inspires them with a love of traffic, a desire of transporting

produce from one place to another; and leads them to a variety of

resources which supply the place of labour. Those who inhabit the

middle settlements, by far the most numerous, must be very

different; the simple cultivation of the earth purifies them, but

the indulgences of the government, the soft remonstrances of

religion, the rank of independent freeholders, must necessarily

inspire them with sentiments, very little known in Europe among

people of the same class. What do I say? Europe has no such class of

men; the early knowledge they acquire, the early bargains they make,

give them a great degree of sagacity. As freemen they will be

litigious; pride and obstinacy are often the cause of law suits; the

nature of our laws and governments may be another. As citizens it is

easy to imagine, that they will carefully read the newspapers, enter

into every political disquisition, freely blame or censure governors

and others. As farmers they will be careful and anxious to get as

much as they can, because what they get is their own. As northern

men they will love the cheerful cup. As Christians, religion curbs

them not in their opinions; the general indulgence leaves every one

to think for themselves in spiritual matters; the laws inspect our

actions, our thoughts are left to God. Industry, good living,

selfishness, litigiousness, country politics, the pride of freemen,

religious indifference, are their characteristics. If you recede

still farther from the sea, you will come into more modern

settlements; they exhibit the same strong lineaments, in a ruder

appearance. Religion seems to have still less influence, and their

manners are less improved.

Now we arrive near the great woods, near the last inhabited

districts; there men seem to be placed still farther beyond the

reach of government, which in some measure leaves them to

themselves. How can it pervade every corner; as they were driven

there by misfortunes, necessity of beginnings, desire of acquiring

large tracts of land, idleness, frequent want of economy, ancient

debts; the re-union of such people does not afford a very pleasing

spectacle. When discord, want of unity and friendship; when either

drunkenness or idleness prevail in such remote districts;

contention, inactivity, and wretchedness must ensue. There are not

the same remedies to these evils as in a long established community.

The few magistrates they have, are in general little better than the

rest; they are often in a perfect state of war; that of man against

man, sometimes decided by blows, sometimes by means of the law; that

of man against every wild inhabitant of these venerable woods, of

which they are come to dispossess them. There men appear to be no

better than carnivorous animals of a superior rank, living on the

flesh of wild animals when they can catch them, and when they are

not able, they subsist on grain. He who would wish to see America in

its proper light, and have a true idea of its feeble beginnings and

barbarous rudiments, must visit our extended line of frontiers where

the last settlers dwell, and where he may see the first labours of

settlement, the mode of clearing the earth, in all their different

appearances; where men are wholly left dependent on their native

tempers, and on the spur of uncertain industry, which often fails

when not sanctified by the efficacy of a few moral rules. There,

remote from the power of example and check of shame, many families

exhibit the most hideous parts of our society. They are a kind of

forlorn hope, preceding by ten or twelve years the most respectable

army of veterans which come after them. In that space, prosperity

will polish some, vice and the law will drive off the rest, who

uniting again with others like themselves will recede still farther;

making room for more industrious people, who will finish their

improvements, convert the loghouse into a convenient habitation, and

rejoicing that the first heavy labours are finished, will change in

a few years that hitherto barbarous country into a fine fertile,

well regulated district. Such is our progress, such is the march of

the Europeans toward the interior parts of this continent. In all

societies there are off-casts; this impure part serves as our

precursors or pioneers; my father himself was one of that class, but

he came upon honest principles, and was therefore one of the few who

held fast; by good conduct and temperance, he transmitted to me his

fair inheritance, when not above one in fourteen of his

contemporaries had the same good fortune.

Forty years ago this smiling country was thus inhabited; it is now

purged, a general decency of manners prevails throughout, and such

has been the fate of our best countries.

Exclusive of those general characteristics, each province has its

own, founded on the government, climate, mode of husbandry, customs,

and peculiarity of circumstances. Europeans submit insensibly to

these great powers, and become, in the course of a few generations,

not only Americans in general, but either Pennsylvanians,

Virginians, or provincials under some other name. Whoever traverses

the continent must easily observe those strong differences, which

will grow more evident in time. The inhabitants of Canada,

Massachusetts, the middle provinces, the southern ones will be as

different as their climates; their only points of unity will be

those of religion and language.

As I have endeavoured to show you how Europeans become Americans; it

may not be disagreeable to show you likewise how the various

Christian sects introduced, wear out, and how religious indifference

becomes prevalent. When any considerable number of a particular sect

happen to dwell contiguous to each other, they immediately erect a

temple, and there worship the Divinity agreeably to their own

peculiar ideas. Nobody disturbs them. If any new sect springs up in

Europe it may happen that many of its professors will come and

settle in American. As they bring their zeal with them, they are at

liberty to make proselytes if they can, and to build a meeting and

to follow the dictates of their consciences; for neither the

government nor any other power interferes. If they are peaceable

subjects, and are industrious, what is it to their neighbours how

and in what manner they think fit to address their prayers to the

Supreme Being? But if the sectaries are not settled close together,

if they are mixed with other denominations, their zeal will cool for

want of fuel, and will be extinguished in a little time. Then the

Americans become as to religion, what they are as to country, allied

to all. In them the name of Englishman, Frenchman, and European is

lost, and in like manner, the strict modes of Christianity as

practised in Europe are lost also. This effect will extend itself

still farther hereafter, and though this may appear to you as a

strange idea, yet it is a very true one. I shall be able perhaps

hereafter to explain myself better; in the meanwhile, let the

following example serve as my first justification.

Let us suppose you and I to be travelling; we observe that in this

house, to the right, lives a Catholic, who prays to God as he has

been taught, and believes in transubstantiation; he works and raises

wheat, he has a large family of children, all hale and robust; his

belief, his prayers offend nobody. About one mile farther on the

same road, his next neighbour may be a good honest plodding German

Lutheran, who addresses himself to the same God, the God of all,

agreeably to the modes he has been educated in, and believes in

consubstantiation; by so doing he scandalises nobody; he also works

in his fields, embellishes the earth, clears swamps, etc. What has

the world to do with his Lutheran principles? He persecutes nobody,

and nobody persecutes him, he visits his neighbours, and his

neighbours visit him. Next to him lives a seceder, the most

enthusiastic of all sectaries; his zeal is hot and fiery, but

separated as he is from others of the same complexion, he has no

congregation of his own to resort to, where he might cabal and

mingle religious pride with worldly obstinacy. He likewise raises

good crops, his house is handsomely painted, his orchard is one of

the fairest in the neighbourhood. How does it concern the welfare of

the country, or of the province at large, what this man's religious

sentiments are, or really whether he has any at all? He is a good

farmer, he is a sober, peaceable, good citizen: William Penn himself

would not wish for more. This is the visible character, the

invisible one is only guessed at, and is nobody's business. Next

again lives a Low Dutchman, who implicitly believes the rules laid

down by the synod of Dort. He conceives no other idea of a clergyman

than that of an hired man; if he does his work well he will pay him

the stipulated sum; if not he will dismiss him, and do without his

sermons, and let his church be shut up for years. But

notwithstanding this coarse idea, you will find his house and farm

to be the neatest in all the country; and you will judge by his

waggon and fat horses, that he thinks more of the affairs of this

world than of those of the next. He is sober and laborious,

therefore he is all he ought to be as to the affairs of this life;

as for those of the next, he must trust to the great Creator. Each

of these people instruct their children as well as they can, but

these instructions are feeble compared to those which are given to

the youth of the poorest class in Europe. Their children will

therefore grow up less zealous and more indifferent in matters of

religion than their parents. The foolish vanity, or rather the fury

of making Proselytes, is unknown here; they have no time, the

seasons call for all their attention, and thus in a few years, this

mixed neighbourhood will exhibit a strange religious medley, that

will be neither pure Catholicism nor pure Calvinism. A very

perceptible indifference even in the first generation, will become

apparent; and it may happen that the daughter of the Catholic will

marry the son of the seceder, and settle by themselves at a distance

from their parents. What religious education will they give their

children? A very imperfect one. If there happens to be in the

neighbourhood any place of worship, we will suppose a Quaker's

meeting; rather than not show their fine clothes, they will go to

it, and some of them may perhaps attach themselves to that society.

Others will remain in a perfect state of indifference; the children

of these zealous parents will not be able to tell what their

religious principles are, and their grandchildren still less. The

neighbourhood of a place of worship generally leads them to it, and

the action of going thither, is the strongest evidence they can give

of their attachment to any sect. The Quakers are the only people who

retain a fondness for their own mode of worship; for be they ever so

far separated from each other, they hold a sort of communion with

the society, and seldom depart from its rules, at least in this

country. Thus all sects are mixed as well as all nations; thus

religious indifference is imperceptibly disseminated from one end of

the continent to the other; which is at present one of the strongest

characteristics of the Americans. Where this will reach no one can

tell, perhaps it may leave a vacuum fit to receive other systems.

Persecution, religious pride, the love of contradiction, are the

food of what the world commonly calls religion. These motives have

ceased here; zeal in Europe is confined; here it evaporates in the

great distance it has to travel; there it is a grain of powder

inclosed, here it burns away in the open air, and consumes without

effect.

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