JOHN LEDYARD AND HIS RUSSIAN JOURNAL

At times it seems unreasonable that we at Hanover should think so affectionately of Ledyard. He came here in the spring of 1772, and he left on the spring flood of the next year. And for three months of that short academic year he was up in the north country, no one knows where, hobnobbing presumably with the Indians. Why do we claim him then so enthusiastically? Why a Ledyard Canoe Club, a Ledyard Trail, a Ledyard Bridge, a stone stating that "on or near this spot" he felled a "giant pine?" Why was the college so pleased to acquire the manuscript of his journey across Russia and Siberia, and why are we publishing it and the letters we have by him?

It is Ledyard's personality that interests us. And under personality I include his moods, his courage, his "undying fire," his little touches of scepticism, his sociability, his charming assumption that he, the penniless and the vagabond, was a fit intellectual companion for Thomas Jefferson and Lafayette, and a worthy adventurer with Captain Cook, and John Paul Jones—if Jones could only realize his opportunity. No boasting in Ledyard, though, and no hostile criticism of those who stay at home. He saw his own particular way and he early went on it. Four times he mistook the way, but then he was very young. He first thought that he should be a lawyer, but in a few months gave up that attempt. Then he came to Dartmouth—he was twenty-one at the time—and we know what happened here. After he had floated down the Connecticut and got rid of his dug-out, he tried out for the ministry, and failed to get his license. And finally, he left his ship at Gibraltar and enlisted in the British army from which he was saved by the captain of his vessel, who claimed him from the army officials and brought him back on deck. After these efforts Ledyard saw that he was meant to wander over the earth, to observe and jot down and comment—and that was his life work. Perhaps "wander" is not quite the fitting verb; it indicates aimlessness, and some of his biographers have fallen into the mistake of writing of Ledyard as an aimless person. On the contrary, Ledyard wandered with a definite goal in mind—he lived in hope that some day he might be able to explore the northwestern part of this country. That was his ambition, and it guided him.

I say it is Ledyard's personality that interests us, and not any successes on his part. He was not a successful man. He never did explore the Northwest Territory, and so he failed in the one absorbing ambition of his life. But the words of a nineteenth century man of letters are peculiarly applicable to him—the defenders of a fallen standard are often worthy of as much respect as those who gain the rampart. Or, putting that thought into the words that the facts justify: Ledyard, who failed to explore the Northwest Territory, and Lewis and Clark, who actually did, must all three be praised for effort and for success.

In 1783, as we learn from the OriginalJournals of the Lewis and Clark Expedition, Thomas Jefferson suggested to General George Rogers Clark (not the one who later carried out the plan—that was William) that he explore "the country from the Missisipi to California." For some reason Clark was not willing, and the matter dropped, so far as he was concerned. But Jefferson himself was not willing that the vast territory be allowed to slip away from the United States, and it must have been with much satisfaction, consequently, that he learned from John Ledyard in 1786 that he had hope of exploring that region.

What had first aroused Ledyard's interest in the Northwest? We can't say definitely, but undoubtedly his imagination had been stimulated when sailing with Captain Cook. As Jared Sparks, the biographer of Ledyard writing in 1828, tells the story, Cook had noticed at Unalaska (in the Aleutian Islands) signs of European civilization, and had determined to have the place explored. Ledyard volunteered, set off unarmed with three natives, and after much trouble discovered the source of European influence—a band of Russian traders. He was hospitably entertained, fed, given a warm bath (he fainted in the hot room while undressing), and finally returned to his ship. "The satisfaction this discovery gave Cook," Ledyard writes, "and the honor that redounded to me, may be easily imagined." It was at this time, I think, that Ledyard began to dream of an extended trip over the mainland.

So in 1786, John Ledyard, nobody, anxious to explore the northwestern part of our country, met in Paris Thomas Jefferson, American ambassador to France, anxious to have the northwestern part of our country explored. The result of their meeting was Ledyard's trip across Russia and Siberia.

Jefferson states definitely that he suggested this route to Ledyard. The plan was for Ledyard to arrive somehow at Kamchatka (from Paris and, for most of the way, on foot!), find a vessel there and sail to his destination. Jefferson must have had great faith in Ledyard.

Well, Ledyard failed, and I shall say something later on about that failure. But we ought to see what happened to Jefferson's general scheme. So far we know that General Clark did not accept the commission, and that Ledyard did, and failed. The next effort was made by Captain John Armstrong acting under orders, ultimately, from General Knox, Washington's secretary of war, and not from Jefferson. Armstrong set out alone in a canoe and paddled up the Mississippi River as far as Saint Louis. At that town he was persuaded to give up his trip because, so he was told, the Indians were hostile. Once more Jefferson proposed his scheme—this time to a Frenchman, Michaux. He was willing and set about preparing for the trip, but about that time Citizen Genet arrived in this country, diverted the energies of Michaux to French ends, and the trip was once more postponed. But Jefferson was insistent, and having succeeded in the Louisiana Purchase, obtained a grant of money from Congress, and finally fitted out the Lewis and Clark Expedition.

Ledyard thus was one of several aspirants, and that he failed is of course a great pity. Instead of being a maker of American history he remains a "gallant vagabond." Fortunately, he left a journal of his trip across Russia and Siberia; and it is a transcript, not in his hand seemingly, of part of that journal which the college has, and will soon publish.

Let me recall once more Ledyard's situation. The year is 1786, and Ledyard, with but little money and living off his friends, is in Paris. He reveals his ambition to Jefferson, and he, seeing in Ledyard a means for furthering his own ends—that is, those of the United States —not only sympathizes with Ledyard, but points out a possible route. And Ledyard agrees to cross Russia and Siberia in order to find a vessel at Kamchatka, and sail in it to the northwest coast of this country.

Casting about for a companion, Ledyard heard of a M:ajor Langhorn, an American, a solitary wanderer, impecunious, and at the time in Copenhagen. Ledyard was stirred by the tales of Langhorn's originality—"I will fly to him with my little all, and some clothes, and lay them at his feet. At this moment I may be useful to him; he is my countryman, a gentleman, a traveler. He may go with me on my journey; if he does I am blessed; if not, I shall merit his attention, and shall not be much out of my way to Petersburg." In 1786 Ledyard departed for Copenhagen, found Major Langhorn "shut up in his room for want of decent apparel to appear abroad in"— and gave him all his money. But he failed to persuade Langhorn to accompany him; the answer was, "No, I esteem you, but I can travel in the way I do with no man on earth." Thus it was that in mid-winter Ledyard alone and on foot departed from Copenhagen to— Kamchatka. He had planned to cross the Gulf of Bothnia on the ice and so save himself much walking, but the Gulf was not frozen all the way across, and Ledyard had to travel by land. And in the dead of winter, without money, on foot, and wrapped in his greatcoat, he covered the distance to Saint Petersburg within seven weeks—at the rate of some two hundred miles a week. That was without doubt the most arduous and heroic trip that he ever undertook; all his other journeys, difficult as many of them were, seem easy in comparison. "I cannot give you a history of myself since I saw you, or since I wrote you last; however abridged, it would be too long.. Upon the whole, mankind has used me well." So Ledyard wrote to Jefferson.

Let us hurry over much interesting material now and notice briefly the rest of the trip. From Saint Petersburg Ledyard set out in the carriage of Doctor Brown, physician to Catherine the Great, and rode with him as far as Barnaul. Ledyard gives the distance in versts as equivalent to some three thousand miles. From Barnaul he traveled by foot to Irkutsk (about eleven hundred miles), and from Irkutsk he walked, and sailed by canoe down the Lena River, to Yakutsk (about fifteen hundred miles—I still make use of Ledyard's figures, which he found in a Russian almanac). At Yakutsk he was arrested and shipped post haste back to Moscow, ultimately was put over the border, and told never to return without permission. He had suffered hardships and indignities only to be sent out of the country as an undesirable. This is Ledyard's parting shot (in his journal) to the Empress: the officer began "in proverbs to tell me 'that Sovereigns had long arms'—I could do no more—l rise— yes by God M. le General yours are very long Eastward if your sovereign should stretch the other Westward she would never bring it back again entire, & I myself would contend to lop it off."

So Ledyard failed, and the glory that might have been his passed in the course of time to others. But his personality remains, and that is to us his monument.

"I am constantly thinking about Hills, or something else of the Kind & as my thoughts are all my own I write what I think without knowing whether it is of Importance or not & leave others to judge of it being convinced only of this that I write if I think so, & that it is better to write many pages in vain than that one of Service to Mankind should not be written. I make this remark once for all to inform my Friends that I am sensible of my humble Genius but not ashamed of it, & to intimate to them that I wish them to deal with me with the same honest careless freedom I do with them, to be damned is no torment to the guilty, & to enjoy fame is no happiness to him who is not convinced he merits it." Only a few writers can write so impersonally of themselves, frankly and without introversion, and when they do they come to us with a freshness that is most engaging. And please no one blue pencil Ledyard's punctuation and capitals and sentence structure. I who am a teacher of English ask this.

Ledyard's method is interesting. Facts, he claims, must be observed and correlated before we generalize, and it is because we have been reasoning from theory to facts that we have injured the truth. His method, then, consists in observing fossils, taking note of debris along shores and banks, measuring the ears of natives—and after he has gathered what to him is sufficient data, he makes his generalizations. He was not a trained scientist and unfortunately lost many opportunities, but he had the scientific approach, within limits. Consequently, while we shall differ from him in regard to conclusions, we can at least nod approval to his questing for facts. Ledyard gives his point of view in a letter to Jefferson: "In my travels I have made it my rule to compare the written with the living history of Man, & as I have seen all kinds of men so I have not hesitated to make use of all kinds of history (yt I am acquainted with) in the comparison: & I give in many cases as much credit to conditions as to history: implicit credit to none, nor implicit credit to inferences that I myself draw from this comparison except rarely; & then I am as sure as I want to be. Thus I know & feel myself above prejudice. Moses, Albugassi & the writers of the last 20 years are all alike to me as to what I am seeking for: I would only understand if I could what man has been from what he is: not what he may be hereafter tho all -mention the tale. I would also know what the earth has been from observing how it is at present: not how it may hereafter be, tho all mention also this tale. You know howignorant and plain a Man I am, but I declare to you that in this temper of mine & from the information incident to the extent and nature of my travels I find myself at -my ease concerning things which some cannot & others will not believe that are of considerable importance."

But it would be incorrect to think of Ledyard simply as the scientific observer abroad in the world. Ledyard could be cautious and calm when confronted with an intellectual problem, but he could be hot-headed in his personal relations. That interview with his relatives in London, for instance. Ledyard, penniless and begging his way with an Irishman, saw on a carriage the name of rich relatives. He had never seen them but he thought that he might get financial help from them. So he went to the house and was met by a younger member of the family who, of course, did not recognize him. Ledyard in great anger turned his back on the house and in spite of the efforts of his relatives to bring him back, refused to have anything more to do with them. He was a man of impulse and sudden departures. When he had returned from his Siberian trip he was asked by Beaufoy, the secretary of the Association for Promoting the Discoveryof the Interior Parts of Africa, whether he would undertake a trip of exploration in Africa. Ledyard agreed to. "When?" asked Beaufoy. "Tomorrow morning," Ledyard answered.

Quite naturally therefore he apostrophizes Liberty. The passage I wish to quote is disjointed, but after the first few clauses it is easy to follow. "Detained at every town I pass thro' by one idle rascal or another, & the Snuff box Serjeant that guards me now more than any other—"take Physic pomp"'—loose your Liberty for one hour ye who never lost it that ye may feel what I feel. It gives me altho' born in the freest country in the world, Ideas of its exquisite Beauties & of its immortal Nature that I had never before. Methinks every man who is called to preside officially over the Liberty of a free People should once—it will be enough—actually be deprived unjustly of his Liberty that he might be avaricious of it more than of any earthly possessions. I could love a Country & its Inhabitants if it was a Country of Freedom & for no other reason than because it was a Country of Freedom. There are two Kinds of People I could anathematize with a better weapon than St. Peters; those who dare deprive others of their Liberty, & those who could suffer others to do it. Methinks that if I was a victorious Prince I would never keep any Prisoner if the People I was at war with fought for Liberty."

After Ledyard had failed to reach the western part of this country via Russia, Siberia, and the Pacific Ocean, he went on his last adventure, the very one that Beaufoy had suggested to him. In June, 1788, he set out for Africa. "If I live, I will faithfully perform, in its utmost extent, my engagement to the Society; and if I perish in the attempt, my honour will still be safe, for death cancels all bonds."

Five months later he was dead; the exact date is not known, but probably about the end of November, 1788. "Bilious complaint," writes Beaufoy, made more serious by his taking acid of vitriol and the "strongest Tartar emetic" caused his death. "He was decently interred in the neighborhood of such of the English as had ended their days in the capital of Egypt." Not a trace remains to indicate where he was buried.

(Will anyone who has material on Ledyard kindly communicate with the writer of this article?)

Assistant Professor of English