Route from Pittsburg to Erie—Commodore Perry’s Victory—Night Scene at
Fredonia—The Indian Chief at Buffalo—Falls of Niagara—Visit to
Fort Niagara—Appearance of Lockport—Passage from Lockport to
Rochester—Aqueduct over the Genessee River—Route by land from
Rochester to Syracuse—Passage from Syracuse to Schenectady, Rome,
and Utica—Grand Canal.
On leaving Pittsburg, the general was obliged to part from his old
friends of the state of Ohio, represented by Governor Morrow, who had
accompanied him with his staff. Conducted by a committee of the city of
Pittsburg, and escorted by a company of militia, we took the route by
way of Franklin, Meadville, Waterford, and Erie, to gain the shores of
the great lake which bears this name. All this western portion of
Pennsylvania, watered by French Creek, is remarkable for the beauty and
variety of its scenery. In each of the villages through which we passed,
the general was detained several hours in receiving the honours which
had been prepared for him by the citizens and public officers.
The trophies suspended over our heads, the name of Perry and the view of
lake Erie, necessarily directed the thoughts of the guests to the events
of the last war; and in a short time the gallant deeds of the American
navy became the subject of general conversation. As it was perceived
that Lafayette took great pleasure in hearing a narration of the glory
of the descendants of his former companions in arms, all the details of
that memorable day were given him, in which, after a combat of three
hours, an American squadron entirely captured a British fleet far
superior in the number of guns.
In hearing the recital of those noble actions, Lafayette cast his eyes
alternately on the numerous English flags that floated over his head, on
the lake, the theatre of such glorious events, and on the seamen who
surrounded him; and his heart was filled with pride, on perceiving that
the Americans of 1813 had shown themselves worthy sons of his old fellow
soldiers, the immortal heroes of the revolution of 1776.
On leaving the table, the general took leave of the inhabitants of Erie,
and departed from this town at three o’clock in the afternoon, with the
committee of Chatauque county, who had come to announce to him that a
steam-boat was waiting at Dunkirk to take him to Buffalo. Before sunset,
we left the territory of Pennsylvania and entered on that of New York.
As we had fifty miles to accomplish, and as the general did not wish to
detain the vessel too long, we travelled until daybreak without
stopping. In this rapid journey, we passed through many large villages,
the population of which, assembled in the public places around large
fires, waited patiently for the arrival of the national guest to salute
him with patriotic acclamations. These nocturnal scenes have left a
strong impression on my mind. I shall never forget the magical effect
that was produced at Fredonia. On leaving Portland, yielding to the
fatigue of the preceding days, we were sleeping in the carriage
notwithstanding the violent jolting occasioned by the trunks of the
trees forming the road over which we were rapidly passing; on a sudden
the startling explosion of a piece of artillery awoke us, and our eyes
were immediately dazzled by the glare of a thousand lights, suspended to
the houses and trees that surrounded us. We were solicited to alight,
and we found ourselves in the middle of an avenue, formed on one side by
men and boys, and on the other by young girls and women holding their
infants in their arms. At the sight of Lafayette, the air resounded with
joyful cries, all arms were stretched out towards him, the mothers
presented their infants to him and begged his benediction on them, and
warlike music uniting its sound to the din of artillery and bells
gladdened all hearts. Struck by so touching a reception, the general was
unable for some time to subdue his emotions; at last, he advanced slowly
through the crowd, at every step shaking affectionately the hands that
were stretched out to him, and replying with tenderness to the sweet
salutation of the children who accompanied his progress with cries of
“_Welcome, Lafayette_.”
On a stage built in the centre of a large place, lighted by barrels of
burning rosin, an orator was waiting to address him in the name of the
people of Fredonia, who afterwards defiled before him in order to salute
him once more. Notwithstanding the striking character of this scene, the
general felt himself obliged to abridge it, that he might not expose to
the cold, for a longer time, the women and young girls, who, slightly
clad, had passed all the night in the open air, waiting for him. It was
three o’clock in the morning, when, after having partaken of a
collation, we left Fredonia. The sun already began to gild the summits
of the forests we left to the right, when we arrived at Dunkirk, a small
port on Lake Erie, when the boat that was to convey us to Buffalo, was
waiting for us. A committee from that town, and a great number of
ladies, had come to meet the general, and received him on board to the
sound of music, the delightful harmony of which accorded deliciously
with the beauty of the morning, and the romantic aspect of the bay in
which we were.
At twelve o’clock we were within sight of the shores of Buffalo; but
retarded in our progress by violent and contrary wind, we were unable to
enter the port for two hours. Although the town of Buffalo was almost
entirely destroyed by the English, who burnt it during the last war, we
were nevertheless struck with its air of prosperity, and the bustle in
its port. We landed near one of the extremities of that grand canal,
whose other extremity we had visited five hundred miles from this, near
Albany, and which serves as a link between Lake Erie and the Atlantic.
After the first ceremonies of the reception of the national guest by the
magistrates and citizens of Buffalo, we went to snatch a few moments of
repose at the Eagle tavern, where our lodgings had been prepared. There,
the general received a great number of persons who desired to be
particularly presented to him; among them we had the pleasure of seeing
an old Indian chief of the Senecas, who had acquired a great reputation
for courage and eloquence, not only among his own people, but also among
the whites, who call him Red Jacket. This extraordinary man, although
much broken by time and intemperance, still preserved, to a surprising
degree, the exercise of all his faculties; he immediately recognised
General Lafayette, and recalled to his recollection that they had been
together in 1784 at Fort Schuyler, where a great council had been held,
in which the interests of all the Indian nations, whether friendly or
otherwise, who could have any relation to the United States, were
settled. The general replied to him that he had not forgotten this
circumstance, and demanded of him if he knew what had become of the
young Indian who had so eloquently opposed “the burying of the
tomahawk.” “He is before you,” replied the son of the forest, with all
the brevity of his expressive language. “Time has much changed us,” said
the general to him, “for then we were young and active.” “Ah,” exclaimed
Red Jacket, “time has been less severe on you than on me; he has left
you a fresh countenance, and a head well covered with hair; whilst as
for me—look!” and untying the handkerchief that covered his head, he
showed us, with a melancholy air, that his head was entirely bald. The
bystanders could not help smiling at the simplicity of the Indian, who
appeared to be ignorant of the means of repairing the injuries of time;
but were cautious not to explain his error; and perhaps did right, for
he might have confounded a wig with a scalp, and wished to have
regarnished his head at the expense of that of one of his neighbours.
Like all the Indians, who have preserved their primitive haughtiness,
Red Jacket obstinately adheres to his native language, and entertains a
great contempt for all others. Although it was easy to see that he
understood English perfectly, he nevertheless refused to reply to the
questions of General Lafayette, before they were translated into Seneca
by his interpreter. The general, having remembered a few Indian words
which he had learned during his youth, pronounced them before him; he
appeared sensible of this politeness, which singularly augmented the
high opinion he already entertained of Lafayette.
The Seneca tribe is one of the six nations known formerly by the name of
Iroquois, and now inhabiting the northern part of the state of New York,
under the protection of the government of that state. These six nations
are the Tuscaroras, Onondagas, Oneidas, Cayugas, Mohawks, and Senecas. I
wished much to have visited a large village inhabited by the latter, a
short distance from Buffalo, but the little time we spent at that place,
was so completely and agreeably taken up by entertainments prepared by
the inhabitants for their guest, that it was impossible for me to spare
the time.
We passed the night at Buffalo, and the next day, at an early hour, we
set out in a carriage for the Falls of Niagara: on our way we
breakfasted with the family of General Porter, at Black Rock, a small
but handsome port which rivals that of Buffalo in bustle; and a few
hours afterwards, a hollow rambling which seemed to shake the earth, and
a thick column of vapour which we saw at a distance rising towards the
clouds, announced to us, that we were about to enjoy the sight of one of
the greatest wonders of nature.
At two o’clock we arrived with our fellow passengers from Buffalo and
Black Rock at Manchester, a small village situated on the right bank of
the Niagara, near the falls, where the general was received and
complimented by a large deputation from the county of Niagara. Full of
an impatience that may readily be conceived, we abridged as much as
possible, the duration of a public dinner, of which we were obliged to
partake on arriving, and at half past three we went over to the island
that divides the Niagara into two unequal parts, at the point where the
waters form the cataracts and precipitate themselves in a gulf of 150
feet in depth. The sight of the bridge which leads to this island,
called Goat Island, admirably prepares the mind for the contemplation of
the imposing scene that presents itself, and gives a nigh idea of the
boldness and skill of those who constructed it. Built on a bed of rocks,
whose numerous points are elevated above the water, and by opposing the
current only increase its violence, its wooden pillars are agitated by a
continued vibration, which seems to announce that the moment approaches
when it will give way and be precipitated in the abyss; some minutes
after having passed the bridge we found ourselves in presence of the
great fall. It is a sublime spectacle, but it must not be expected I
should attempt to describe the sensations that I experienced at the
sight of the gigantic phenomena; they were of a nature that cannot be
expressed: I therefore willingly relinquish the trial, in which, in my
opinion, the most skilful writers have greatly failed. We remained near
half an hour on the edge of the gulf, silently contemplating the rapid
fall of the water, and almost stunned by the noise of its terrible
roaring. We should, in all probability, have remained plunged in a
reverie much longer, had we not been roused by the voice of one of our
companions, doubtless more familiar than us with this fearful sport of
nature, anxious to give us some details, interesting perhaps, but which
we certainly should never have demanded.
Mr. A. Porter, the brother of General Porter, with whom we had
breakfasted at Black Rock, is the owner of Goat Island; he had the
kindness to conduct the general to all the most picturesque points of
this singular property, which is, as it were, suspended above the abyss.
From the upper extremity of the island, we saw a spectacle less terrible
than from the lower point, but which is nevertheless not without
majesty. Our view, extending to a great distance, agreeably reposed on
the beautiful river Niagara, which rolls its waters as smooth as a
mirror, over a large bed unincumbered with obstacles, and between low
and fertile banks: it is only in approaching the superior point of the
island, that the rapidity of the course is accelerated and it prepares
for the terrible fall, whose noise, during the stillness of the night,
is heard, it is said, for more than twenty miles around. Woe to the
animal or man that has the imprudence to enter this irresistible
current, no human power can save him from the insatiable avidity of the
gulf. It is only a few years since a young Indian furnished a lamentable
example. He was sleeping in the bottom of his canoe which he had
fastened to the shore near the small town of Chippewa, when a young girl
who had replied to his love, but whom he had deserted for another,
passed and saw him. At the sight of him the furies of jealousy kindled
in her bosom the desire for revenge. She approached, unfastened the
canoe, and gently pushed it from the shore, the current soon acted on
it, and carried it down the stream with great rapidity. The noise of the
waves soon woke the young Indian, who, on opening his eyes, saw the
imminent danger to which he was exposed; his first movement, inspired by
a desire of preservation, was to seize his paddle to strive against the
current; but he soon perceived the inutility of his efforts, which were
derided by his wicked mistress by cries of cruel joy: then having
nothing to oppose to his fate but a courageous resignation, he enveloped
himself in his blanket, seated himself in the middle of the canoe, and
coolly fixed his looks on the gates of eternity soon to be opened to
him, and in a few seconds disappeared in the profound abyss.
The name of Chippewa, pronounced in the recital of the fate of the young
Indian, awoke our recollection of the glorious deeds of the American
troops, during the last war, on the frontiers of Canada, from which we
were only separated at this time by an arm of the Niagara. With this
recollection were naturally mingled the names of Brown, Van Ransellaer,
Ripley, Scott, Porter, Harrison, Pike, Jessup, Miller, and many others
who rendered themselves illustrious in these spots, by their talents,
their courage, and their ardent love of country.
After two hours of delightful excursion, we left Goat Island, and cast a
farewell look on it from the bridge which unites it to the main land.
From this it appeared to us like a garden in the air, supported by the
clouds, and surrounded by thunder. The general could not tear himself
from this imposing scene, and I believe that when he learnt that Goat
Island and its charming dependencies were for sale for 1000 dollars, he
strongly regretted that the distance from France would not permit him to
purchase it. It would be, in fact, a delicious habitation; the surface
of the soil, of about seventy-five acres, is covered with a vigorous
vegetation, whose verdure constantly kept up by the freshness of the
pure and light vapour that arises from the cataract, presents an
agreeable shelter from the heat of summer. The current of water which
surrounds it offers an incalculable power which may be applied to mills
of all kinds. I do not think that Mr. Porter will wait long before he
disposes of a property which offers so many advantages.
On leaving Manchester and the Falls of Niagara, we went to Lewistown to
sleep: this is a pretty village situated a few miles below the falls;
and the next day, at five o’clock in the morning, we rode to Fort
Niagara, where General Lafayette had been invited to breakfast by Major
Thomson, the commandant of the garrison. We found the major at the head
of his officers, a short distance in advance of the fort, waiting to
receive the general, who was saluted by twenty-four guns as soon as he
entered the works. Some ladies, wives of the officers of the garrison,
assisted their husbands in doing the honours of the entertainment, and
contributed not a little by their politeness, in making the time we
passed at Niagara appear very short.
This fort is built precisely at the point where the river enters into
Lake Ontario, on which Commodore Chauncey reaped laurels, like those
gathered by Perry on Lake Erie. Almost opposite, on the other bank, is
fort George, occupied by the English. Hostilities were frequent between
these two posts in the campaigns of 1813 and 1814, but the
fortifications of both have since been repaired, and it would now be
difficult to trace the ravages of war.
The general shortened his visit to Fort Niagara, in order to arrive
early at Lockport, where we were to embark on the grand canal, to
descend to Albany. On a height near Lockport we met a troop of from
seventy to eighty citizens on horseback, and under this escort entered
the village, where the general was saluted by an extraordinary kind of
artillery. Hundreds of small blasts, charged with powder by the workmen
engaged in quarrying the bed of the rock to form the canal, exploded
almost at the same moment, and hurled fragments of rock into the air,
which fell amidst the acclamations of the crowd. The appearance of
Lockport filled us with astonishment and admiration. No where have I
ever seen the activity and industry of man conquering nature so
completely as in this growing village. In every part may be heard the
sound of the hatchet and hammer. Here, trees are felled, fashioned under
the hands of the carpenter, and raised on the same spot in the form of a
house; there, on a large public square, which exists as yet only in
project, an immense hotel already opens its doors to new settlers, who
have not any other habitation. Scarcely is there to be found in the
whole town a sufficiency of the necessaries of life, and yet, by the
side of a school, in which the children are instructed whilst their
fathers are building the houses that are to shelter them, is to be seen
a printing press, which every morning issues a journal, teaching the
labourers, in their hours of repose, how the magistrates of the people
fulfil the confidence reposed in them. In streets traced through the
forest, and yet encumbered with trunks of trees and scattered branches,
luxury already appears in the light wagons drawn by splendid horses;
finally, in the midst of these encroachments of civilization on savage
nature, there is going on, with a rapidity that appears miraculous, that
gigantic work, that grand canal, which, in tightening the bonds of the
American Union, spreads comfort and abundance in the wilds through which
it passes.
Our carriages stopped opposite to an arch of green branches, and General
Lafayette was conducted to a platform, where he had the satisfaction of
being welcomed by one of his old fellow soldiers, the venerable Stephen
Van Rensellaer, now president of the board of canal commissioners. After
having been officially presented to the deputation from Monroe county,
as well as to a great number of citizens, we sat down to a public
dinner, presided over by Colonel Asher Saxton, at the end of which the
general, induced by the feelings awakened in him by the sight of so many
wonders, gave the following toast: “To Lockport and the county of
Niagara—they contain the greatest wonders of art and nature, prodigies
only to be surpassed by those of liberty and equal rights.”
The free masons of Lockport, not wishing to permit the general to depart
without rendering him the honours due to his high masonic rank, begged
him to keep in remembrance of their lodge, the rich ornaments with which
he had been adorned when he entered the temple. They afterwards
accompanied us to the basin, where the boat was waiting to convey us to
Rochester. Before we embarked, we had great pleasure in viewing the
handsome locks, cut out of the solid rock, to the depth of twenty-five
feet. The moment the general stepped on board the barge, a multitude of
small blasts, dug in the rock, exploded above our heads, and their
deafening detonations added to the solemnity of the farewells of the
citizens of Lockport. Before leaving the basin, we received from Dr. ——
a box containing specimens of the different species of rocks through
which the canal passed; we accepted this interesting collection with
gratitude. Although navigation by steam is not applicable to a canal,
whose banks are not of stone, yet, as the horses and the tow-path were,
excellent, we travelled rapidly and comfortably; for the boat (the
Rochester) that carried us, was much more convenient and better provided
with the comforts of life than could have been supposed.
We left Lockport at 7 o’clock in the evening, and traversed during the
night the sixty-five miles that separate that village from Rochester,
where we arrived at an early hour in the morning. We had not yet quitted
our cabin, when suddenly the name of Lafayette, pronounced amidst
violent acclamations, induced the general to ascend on deck; we followed
him, and what was our astonishment and admiration at the scene that
presented itself! We were apparently suspended in the air, in the centre
of an immense crowd which lined both sides of the canal; several
cataracts fell rumbling around us, the river Genessee rolled below our
feet at a distance of fifty feet; we were some moments without
comprehending our situation, which appeared the effect of magic: at last
we found, that the part of the canal on which we were, was carried with
an inconceivable boldness across the Genessee river, by means of an
aqueduct of upwards of four hundred yards in length, supported by arches
of hewn stone. Our fellow passengers, witnesses of our astonishment,
informed us that, in its long course, the canal passed several times, in
a similar manner, over wide and deep rivers; that above Irondiguot, for
example, it pursued an aerial route for more than a quarter of a mile,
at an elevation of 70 feet. This kind of construction appears familiar
to the Americans. The bridges are usually of an elegance and boldness of
execution that is inconceivable. Not far from Rochester may be seen the
ruins of a bridge that had been thrown over the river Genessee in a
single arch of 320 feet span, and 180 feet elevation above the water; it
gave way a few years since whilst two children were crossing it. It was
said to have been a masterpiece of art, but the want of size and
strength in the timbers prevented its lasting long.
The general left the canal at Rochester, passed a few hours with the
inhabitants of that town, who gave him a reception, which, in affection
and elegance, fully equalled any that I have hitherto witnessed, and
continued his journey by land, passing through the villages of
Canandaigua, Geneva, Auburn, Skeneateles, Marcellus, &c. and re-joined
the canal at Syracuse. This journey confirmed us in the opinion, that no
part of America, or, perhaps, of the whole world, contains so many
wonders of nature as the state of New York. The lakes of Canandaigua,
Seneca and Cayuga, appeared delightful to us from the purity of their
waters, the form of their basins, and the richness of their banks. The
sight of all these beauties, and still more the kindness and urbanity of
the population through which we travelled, often made General Lafayette
regret the rapidity with which he travelled. During this journey of
upwards of one hundred and thirty miles by land, we travelled night and
day, only stopping for a few moments at each village, to enjoy the
entertainments, prepared by the inhabitants in honour of their beloved
guest, who, said they, by the simplicity, the amenity and uniformity of
his manners, towards all classes of citizens, completed the conquest of
all hearts, already devoted to him from his adherence to the cause of
America in particular, and that of liberty in general.
From Rochester to Syracuse, we were constantly struck with the marked
beauty of the horses that formed our relays; and learned that they had
been gratuitously furnished by individuals, whose patriotic
disinterestedness was fully appreciated by the different committees
charged with the care of the general’s journey, and who returned them
public thanks. Among these generous citizens, I heard particularly
cited, Mr. de Zeng, of Geneva, and Mr. Sherwood, proprietor of the
stage-coaches at Auburn.
On arriving at Syracuse at six o’clock in the morning, by the fading
light of the illuminations, and the crowd that filled the streets, we
learned that the people of the village had expected the national guest
all night. The splendid supper that had been prepared for the evening
before, made us an excellent breakfast, and the general passed three
hours amidst the kind congratulations of the citizens, who eagerly
pressed around him. At nine o’clock he took leave of his friends at
Syracuse, and embarked on board the canal-boat, amid the thunder of
artillery, and loud wishes for the happy termination of his voyage.
We resumed this mode of travelling with the more pleasure, as we had
lately suffered much from the heat and dust on our last day’s journey by
land. Always incited by a wish to fulfil the promise he had given to the
citizens of Boston, the general determined to travel day and night as
long as he was on the canal, and only to halt in the towns on his route
a sufficient time to return his thanks to the inhabitants, all of whom
had made preparations for his reception. We often regretted this
necessary haste, especially on seeing the handsome towns of Rome, Utica,
Schenectady, &c. and hearing the patriotic acclamations of their
inhabitants. At Rome, which we passed through in the night by the light
of an illumination, we met with the deputation from Utica, at the head
of which the general had the satisfaction of recognising one of his
fellow soldiers, Colonel Lansing, who fought by his side at Yorktown.
Twenty discharges of artillery announced his arrival in Utica, and at
this signal all the population gathered round him to hear the eloquent
discourse addressed to him by Judge Williams, in the name of the people.
His astonishment was extreme, when the orator informed him that the part
of the country he had traversed in so rapid and commodious a manner, was
that through which he had passed with so much difficulty and danger
during the war of the revolution, to save the garrison of Fort Stanwix
from the tomahawks of the Indian allies of Great Britain. He could
scarcely believe in so great a change, and was unable to express the
happiness he felt. We only spent four hours at Utica; but that time
would not suffice to detail all the marks of attachment that were heaped
upon him. Obliged to divide his time between his old fellow soldiers and
the children of the different schools; between the magistrates and the
ladies; and, finally, between strangers and Indians, collected from
several miles around to pay their respects to him, he still found means
to reply to the enthusiasm of all, and every one that approached him
returned satisfied and persuaded that he was an object of particular
attention. Three chiefs of Oneidas, Taniatakaya, Sangouxyonta, and
Doxtator, asked for a private interview, and recalled to his
recollection some circumstances of the campaigns of 1777 and 1778, in
which they had rendered him some services. He recognized them again, but
was greatly astonished to find, that two of them already advanced in
years at the time of which they spoke, were still living;
notwithstanding their great age, their features still preserved an
energetic expression; they spoke with warmth of the situation of their
tribe. “The chase is no longer productive,” said they; “it does not
supply our wants, and we are obliged to provide for our subsistence by
agriculture, which renders us very unhappy; but it is not owing to our
white brothers of the state of New York; they act generously towards us;
they permit us to live in peace near the bones of our fathers, which
they have not obliged us to transport to a strange land; and the
government often succours us when our harvests fail; hence we sincerely
love our white brothers, the Americans. We formerly fought for them
against the English, and we are still ready to raise the tomahawk in
their favour, whenever occasion requires it.” The general praised them
for the sentiments they expressed; he told them he had not forgotten
their former valuable services; and begged them always to regard the
Americans as good brothers; he then made them some presents of money,
and they returned well satisfied. A deputation from the county of
Oneida, waited on the general to beg him to assist in laying the first
stone of a monument, which the citizens of that county were about
erecting to the memory of Baron de Steuben, whose remains had reposed
since 1795, at Steubenville, without any mark of distinction. But the
time fixed for this ceremony, not according with the public engagements
entered into by the general with the citizens of Boston, he was under
the necessity of refusing this invitation. “If I could associate with
you,” replied he to the deputation, “in rendering to the memory of my
fellow soldier and friend Baron de Steuben, those honours you intend
bestowing and of which no one is more worthy, without my missing the
celebration at Bunker’s Hill, it would not be the fatigues of a long and
rapid journey that would deter me, you may be fully persuaded; but a
single day of delay may occasion my breaking a sacred promise; you must
be aware of this, be good enough therefore to be the bearers of my
regrets to the citizens of Steubenville, and assure them that my heart
will be with them at this melancholy ceremony, which I am obliged to
forego attending in spite of my wishes.”
The regrets of General Lafayette were the more acute and sincere, as he
could, better perhaps than any other, appreciate the rare qualities and
noble character of Baron de Steuben, who had shared with him the toils
and dangers of the Virginia campaign.
Frederic William Steuben was born in Prussia, in 1735. Destined for a
career of arms, his education was entirely military, and he early
entered the service. His knowledge, his well tried courage, and his zeal
in the performance of his duties, did not escape the penetration of
Frederic the Great, who promoted him rapidly, and attached him
particularly to his own person. The young Steuben did not fail to profit
by the lessons of his illustrious master, and obtained a brilliant
reputation among the best generals of the age. But neither the glory he
had acquired, nor the favours of the greatest king of the time, could
counterbalance his love for liberty. As soon as he learned that the
American colonies, shaking off the despotism of England, were ready to
maintain their independence by an appeal to arms, he crossed the ocean
and offered them his services, declaring that he was ambitious of no
other honour than that of acting as a volunteer in a good cause, and
that he would accept neither rank nor pay before he had given proofs of
his valour. This noble disinterestedness, and the services he rendered
the American army, merited him the friendship of Washington, and the
confidence of congress, who elevated him to the rank of major-general.
His candour and moderation equalled his skill and bravery. After the
peace, wishing to enjoy the fruits of that liberty to which he had
contributed so gloriously, he retired to Oneida county, to lands given
him by congress, and there, cultivating in solitude his mind and his
fields, he philosophically waited for death; which suddenly made him its
prey in 1795. He was then about sixty years of age. According to his
wish, expressed in his last will, he was wrapped in his cloak, placed in
a simple wooden coffin, and committed to the earth without a stone or an
inscription to mark the place of his sepulchre. He laid for a long time
in a thick wood near his house, when his remains were menaced with
profanation by the opening of a public road through his property.
Colonel Walker, his former friend, hastened to collect them, and the
inhabitants of Steubenville, and of the county of Oneida, resolved to
enclose them in a durable monument, as an expression of their gratitude
and esteem for the German warrior.
A cannon, the signal of the departure of the guest of the nation, had
already been heard twenty-four times. The boat that was to take him to
Schenectady was ready, and the people assembled on the quays and the
bridges that cross the canal, waited in silence for his departure. When
he embarked, and our light vessel, drawn by superb white horses, had
begun to glide through the water, three cheers expressed to him the last
farewell of the inhabitants of Utica, whilst children placed on the
bridges, showered down flowers upon him as the boat passed beneath.
Standing on the prow of the vessel with his head uncovered, General
Lafayette replied by signs of gratitude to those testimonies of popular
esteem. His son and myself, witnesses of this touching scene, remained
near him, partaking both of the enthusiasm of the people, and the
happiness of him that was the object of it, when our attention was
suddenly attracted by the cries of a man who followed the boat, by
running along the bank, and making signs to us to stop. His copper
colour, half naked body, and grotesque ornaments, marked him for an
Indian. Although his intention to board us was manifest, our captain,
Major Swartwout, did not think it advisable to stop. The Indian,
therefore, exerting all his strength, hastened his pace so much, as to
pass us considerably, and at last waited on the last bridge near the
town. At the moment he passed beneath it, he sprung on the deck, and
fell on his feet in the midst of us, admirably erect. “Where is Kayewla?
I wish to see Kayewla,” cried he with agitation. The general was pointed
out to him. His countenance expressed the greatest satisfaction “I am
the son of Wekchekaeta,” said he, stretching out his hand; “of him who
loved you so well, that he followed you to your country when you
returned there after the great war; my father has often spoken to me of
you, and I am happy to see you.” The general had already learned that
Wekchekaeta had died some years since, and was glad to meet with his
son, who appeared to be about twenty-four years of age. He made him sit
down, and conversed several minutes with him, and rendered him happy by
presenting him with several dollars, when he left us. The young Indian
was as little embarrassed to find a mode of leaving the boat as he had
been to enter it. We were separated from the bank of the canal by about
ten feet; he sprung over this space with the lightness of a deer, and
disappeared in an instant. This singular visit greatly excited the
curiosity of our fellow passengers, and the general hastened to satisfy
it by relating the history of Wekchekaeta, whom he carried to Europe
with him in 1778, and who, soon disgusted with civilization, joyfully
returned to his native wilds.
To describe our voyage from Utica to Schenectady, a distance of about
eighty miles, would be to repeat what has already been said when
speaking of that in the upper part of the canal. We arrived in the
latter town next day, 11th June, about dinner time. We remained there
only a few hours, which the inhabitants rendered very pleasant to the
general, and in the evening set out in carriages for Albany, which is
about sixteen miles distant from it. We lost much, we were told, in not
continuing our route by the canal, which, during the whole of that
route, runs along the river Mohawk, over which it twice passes by
aqueducts of 1800 feet in length, but pressed for time, we were obliged
to choose the shortest road; besides, we had travelled, since leaving
Lockport, for near three hundred miles on the canal, and we had been
able to judge of the beauty and utility of this great channel of
communication, executed in eight years by the state of New York alone,
unassisted by any foreign aid. There are still some few parts to be
finished, before the navigation will be open the whole length of the
canal; but these will be accomplished in a few months, when the boats
passing from Lake Erie to Albany will traverse a length of three hundred
and sixty miles, and descend a height of five hundred and fifty feet, by
means of eighty-three locks built of hewn stone, and whose basin of
thirty feet long by fifteen broad, will admit boats of upwards of one
hundred tons burthen. The total expenses for the construction of this
canal are estimated at ten millions of dollars. This sum appears
enormous at first view, but nevertheless it is trifling, when the
immense advantages that will accrue to the state of New York are taken
into consideration. The tolls demanded for the right of navigation,
although very low, have already produced, during the year 1824, the sum
of 350,761 dollars; and it is believed that the receipts will amount
this year to 500,000 dollars, and that in the nine succeeding years it
will increase at the rate of 75,000 dollars per annum, so that at the
end of ten years, the debt incurred in the accomplishment of this great
work will be liquidated, and also, after deducting 100,000 dollars
annually for repairs, &c., the state of New York will receive from its
canal, a nett revenue of a million of dollars, which is four times more
than the expenses of its government.[16]
The state of New York will then present the new spectacle of a community
of more than two millions of men, not only supporting its government
without taxes, but also having money arising from its own property. The
citizens of that state will always, it is true, have to pay the duties
the general government thinks right to impose on the importation of
foreign products; but the independent farmer, who produces on his farm
all the necessaries of life, may live without paying any tax either
direct or indirect, to the state or the general government.
I present this picture of the public prosperity of the state of New
York, for the consideration of our European politicians and economists.