Lord Edward Fitzgerald in America (Summer 1789)
From Lord Edward Fitzgerald at Fort Erie and Mackinac Island, in the summer of 1789.
One of the most interesting episodes of history I have had the pleasure of researching is that of Lord Edward Fitzgerald in America. He had travelled there twice in his life - first as a young British officer during the War of Independence and later in 1788 as an officer again, but ending his time as a civilian travelling through the Canadian-American Frontier. I have previously written about it on this blog - here.
During his travels he wrote many letters home of his experience and what we get is and incredible insight into the mind of this future revolutionary. It is argued that Lord Edward had got his republican ideals in America after embedding himself in native and settler society. Below is perhaps my favourite two letters from his time there. He writes to his mother from Fort Erie after visiting the Niagara Falls and speaks of the absolute awe he found himself in, claiming he might never return home if not for his family.
Fort Erie, June 1, 1789
Dearest Mother,
I am just come from the Falls of Niagara. To describe them is impossible. I stayed three days, admiring and absolutely obliged to tear myself away at last. As I said before, to describe them would be impossible - Homer could not in writing, nor Claude Lorraine in painting your own imagination must do it. The immense height and noise of the Falls, the spray that rises to the clouds - in short, it forms all together a scene that is well worth the trouble of coming from Europe to see. Then, the greenness and tranquillity of everything about, the quiet of the immense forests around, compared with the violence of all that is close to the Falls, but I will not go on, for I should never end.
I set out to-morrow for Detroit; I go with one of the Indian chiefs, Joseph Brant, he that was in England. We have taken very much to one another, I shall entertain you very much with his remarks on England, and the English, while he was there. Instead of crossing Lake Erie in a ship, I go in canoes up and down rivers. In crossing Lake Ontario, I was as sick as at sea, - so you may guess I prefer canoeing;- besides, my friend joseph always travels with company and we shall through a number of Indian villages. If you only stop an hour, they have a dance for you. They are delightful people; the ladies charming and with manners that I like very much, they are so natural. Notwithstanding the life they lead, which would make most women rough and masculine, they are as soft, meek, and modest as the best brought-up girls in England. At the same time, they are coquettes au possible. Conceive the manners of Mimi in a poor squaw, that has been carrying packs in the woods all her life.
I must make haste and finish my letter for I am just going to set off. I shall be at Michilimackinack in nineteen days. My journey then will be soon over for from that I shall soon reach the Mississippi, and down it to New Orleans, and then to my dearest mother to Frescati, to relate all my journey in the little book-room. I shall then be happy. Give my love to all. I think often of you all in these wild woods:- they are better than rooms. Ireland and England will be too little for me when I go home. If I could carry my dearest mother about with me, I should be completely happy here.
MichiliMACKINACK [Mackinac Island], July 9 , 1789 .
DEAREST MOTHER, I know you will be a little angry with me for undertaking this long journey. I really believe that had I thought it would have taken me so much time I should not have begun it; but as I have got so far, it would be foolish not to continue and finish it well. I have now but one month more of hard work to gain the Mississippi, and then I shall get on easily. However, I am afraid the different embarkations, and the chance of not finding ships ready , will prevent my being in England till February
What vexes me most is that you will be uneasy at not hearing from me during that time. But then you may rest assured, dearest mother, that I am quite well all the time, for this going about keeps me in perfect health and have not had so much as a finger - ache since I left England: and if it was not for my absence from you, I should be perfectly happy. Even if I was at home, being with you would be my only comfort; for though I force myself not to think of — here, and go on very well, yet if I were near her, I should, I know, get unhappy again; and it would end in my going to Germany or Russia, which would be still worse than this . When I am not happy, I must either be soldiering, or preparing to be a soldier, -- which is what I think I am doing in this journey , for stay quiet, I believe, I cannot. Why did you give me either such a head or such a heart?
I don't know which it is; but, dearest mother, once I get home, you shall do what you please with me, and chain me down to Frescati .
I long to be set a - going again, it is the only chance I have . I set out to - morrow. I have got a canoe, with five men, - everything is laid in: I am obliged to have one to myself to carry a few presents for the Indian villages I pass through. Except Indian corn and grease, we depend entirely on chance for everything else. You cannot conceive how pleasant this way of travelling is: it is a hunting or shooting party the whole way. I find I can live very well on Indian corn and grease: -it sounds bad, but it is not so: I ate nothing else for four days coming here. Few people know how little is necessary to live. What is called and thought hardships is nothing: one unhappy feeling is worse than a thousand years of it.
The Canadian engage's here live on nothing but two handfuls of corn and an ounce of grease per day, and work and sing the whole day. It is very pleasant to travel with them. They sing all day, and keep time with their paddles: their lively, gay, sans souci French blood never leaves them: they are the same in America as in France. This next part of the journey will be, I think, the most interesting and agreeable I have had yet, as the people I go among live more in their own way , and have less connection with Europeans. It will give a long story for Black Rock .
Source: Letters from Lord Edward Fitzgerald to his mother dated 1st June, 1789 included in a book of letters as a part of the Lennox, Fitzgerald and Campbell Papers held in the National Library of Ireland (MS 35,011).
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A quick question for you —
I read a few books about Irish history in preparation for my visit to Dublin last year, including The Graves are Walking by John Kelly and Bitter Freedom: Ireland in Revolutionary World by Maurice Walsh. Do you have any Irish history recommendations?