CHAPTER 3

Declaring t h e S e lf in th e S o cial Sp h ere:

Dr. A lexander Ham ilton and
Eliza b e th Ho use rris t

Unlike the captivity narrative's emblematic renderings of a spiritual journey

or the spiritual autobiography's focus on conversion, the travel narrative tells
of a physical journey whose ultimate meaning is determined by reaching a
destination rather than by overcoming a spiritual test. Bridging earlier colo
nial American literature, in the form of the promotional tract and the diary,
and later American fiction, in the form of the romance and the adventure, the
travel narrative validates individual perspective and encourages individual
investigation as the narrator moves closer to the center of the text and claims
a new sense of authority. The travel narrative also responds to a growing
population that has assumed ownership of its new lands and has made such
an indelible mark on the landscape that the question is no longer, Why are
we here? but, How can we improve and reshape what is here ? Dr.Alexander
Hamilton and Elizabeth House Trist journey along the roads and rivers of
Fig. 3. Dr. Alexander Hamilton's signature from his dedication to the Itinerarium, 1744, MS 922. (Re
produced by permission of The Huntington Library, San Marino, California.) Fig. 4. Elizabeth House
Trist's signature from a letter to Thomas Jefferson, from New Orleans, November 26, 1804. Trist is
visiting her son, Hore Browse Trist, and his family. (Thomas Jefferson Papers; reproduced by permis
sion from the Special Collections Department, Manuscript Division, University of Virginia Library.)

Dr. Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth House Trist

41

eighteenth-century America and leave their own distinctive records of inves

tigation . Hamilton's Itinerarium takes place in prerevolutionary America,
1 744, and Trist's Travel Diary in postrevolutionary America, 1783-84, an
interval that allows their narratives to frame a growing mobility of the indi
vidual in early America and the New Republic.
Although bonded by a common need to travel, their j ourneys were un
dertaken for quite different reasons : Hamilton's for health and Trist's for re
location. Hamilton was suffering from consumption (tuberculosis) and was
trying to escape the hot Maryland summer.l Trist was hoping to be reunited
with her husband, Nicholas Trist, who had gone ahead to establish a settle
ment along the Mississippi River in the Louisiana Territory. Hamilton's more
leisurely purpose focuses much of its 250 pages on social life in the expand
ing cites and towns of colonial America. Trist's sense of mission lends her
narrative a more anxious tone. Hamilton embarks on a four-month j ourney
through the northern colonies on May 30, 1744, from Annapolis, Maryland,
continues north to Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and eventually returns to
Annapolis on September 27, a venture covering 1, 624 m iles. It was, as
Hamilton explains, a very circumflex course, but as the journey was intended
only for health and recreation, I was indifferent whether I took the nearest
or the farthest route, having likewise a desire to see that part of the country"
(178).2 Elizabeth House Trist departs Philadelphia on December 21, 1783, with
hopes of reaching Natchez by late spring or early summer. Trist's journal
begins on December 23, 1783,3 with a notation of her 1/6 0 Clock P. M . " arrival
in Lancaster and breaks off at midsentence on July I, 1784, just three days
shy of Natchez. Hamilton returns home, recopies his j ournal, titling it the
Itinerarium, and resumes his medical practice. The premature ending of Trist's
Travel Diary is punctuated with the revelation that her husband had died in
February while she wintered in Pittsburgh. Hamilton travels relatively eas
ily through the established northern colonies, whereas Trist ventures into
more unexplored territory. Hamilton and Trist each express desire for a more
developed and, to their minds, a more civilized" America: Trist imagines home
and community, and Hamilton fancies genteel standards of social behavior and
character.
Even though the Itin erarium's unique publication history deprived it of a
contemporary audience4 and the Travel Diary was never intended for a pub
lic audience, each text anticipates one critic's criterion for the genre of eigh
teenth-century travel narrative by teaching "Americans the meaning of their
unique historical situation." 5 Through their extensive descriptions and social
commentary of eighteenth-century life, they also satisfy the travel narrative's
intention to instruct and entertain. Robert Micklus confirms that the travel
narrative "naturally appealed to an age that stressed sociability as a key-if
not the key-to happiness."6 In keeping with these intentions, the travel nar
rative encourages individual perception as its author projects his or her so
cial vision out onto the landscape, village, or town.
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(See map opposite page) On May

30, 1774, Hamilton departs

1624 miles."

to his estimation covers by "land and water together, a course of

was, as Hamilton terms it, a livery circumflex course," one which

to New York, and then home to Annapolis on September 27. It

most destination in York. He returns along the Boston Post Road

Boston and Salem in Massachusetts and reaches his northern

ferry across to New London, Connecticut. He continues on to

works his way up Long Island through Huntington, and takes the

travels up the Hudson River to Albany, returns to New York,

York, Maine, before returning home. On his outgoing trip, he

through Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York on his way to

Annapolis, Maryland, for a four-month journey that takes him

Hudson

Long Island

Southhold

Philadelphia
Chester
New Castle
Annapolis

Stonnington
Newport
Bristol
Boston

York

Portsmouth

Salem

Trenton

New York

Stamford

New Haven

New London

Stonnington

New London

Gardiner's Island

travels up

Huntington

New York

Schenectady

Newport

Providence
sails up the

New York
Albany

Cambridge
Dedham

Trenton

Boston

Chester
Philadelphia

Hampton
Salem

New Castle

Portsmouth

Annapolis
Baltimore

RETURN TRIP

OUTGOING TRIP

I
I

Itinerary: Dr. Alexander Hamilton's Journey

44

Declaring th e Self in the Social Sphere

From this standpoint, the purpose of the first-person narrative shifts from
a spiritual exercise in self-examination to a secular record of individual per
spective. This subjectivity contributes to an autonomy that Myra Jehlen ar
gues "provides a basis for community that comes from within, rather than
as an external and limiting obligation" (15). The travel narrative also lends
its author more authority by allowing the narrator to become the leading
character, director, and producer of the j ournal's recorded events. This genre
has, consequently, been considered primarily responsible for advancing the
authority and value of individual experience in literature." 7 The Hamilton and
Trist j ournals demonstrate this promotion of subjectivity.
Eighteenth-century travel literature distinguishes itself from the earlier
promotional tract, whose Edenic imagery glorifies and exaggerates the pleni
tude of the New World, by grounding its observations in empirical details.
Common to both writings is the author's proj ections of how the land will
change and the settlements expand. For Elizabeth House Trist, the travel nar
rative allows her to evaluate the frontier for its potential to sustain commu
nity. For Dr. Alexander Hamilton, the narrative allows him to catalog colo
nial life and mark changes in social interactions and muse upon their
implications.
As first-person narratives, Hamilton's Itinerarium and Trist's Travel Di
ary are invested with a strong sense of individual purpose. They each tell a
story which is interesting because someone specific is telling it. Motivated by
their intentions to explore and observe, these authors express an adventure
some spirit that anticipates both the romance and the Transcendental jour
ney. With its own subj ective emphasis, the eighteenth-century travel narra
tive distinguishes itself from the Puritan colonial diary and provides a
foundation for the secular autobiography.
II

The Traveler's View: Hamilton's Perspective

Dr. Alexander Hamilton travels down rural roads and through colonial towns
noting their character and speculating on potentials. Not driven by press,ing
concerns for reunion, Hamilton's leisurely journey allows for more reflection
on the beauty and diversity of the colonial landscape. His entries often con
tain detailed descriptions of the local architecture, manners, and customs. As
a physician, Hamilton sees his world through an empirical lens that gathers
and records data and information and draws conclusions on such areas as
health, diet, physical activities, intellectual pursuits, crops, and weather. His
commentary is often witty and sarcastic, and his conversation is frequently
comical and evasive. Fashioning himself as an independent agent, Hamilton
maintains a public guise of nonchalance even though in private he is quite
opinionated on subjects as diverse as taverns, inns, coffeehouses, food, women,
clothes, healing arts, religious sectarianism, and commerce. These opinions
enliven the Itinerarium with its unusual mixture of caricature and self-por-

Dr. A lexander Hamilton and Elizabeth House Trist

45

trait. In Hamilton's hands, the travel narrative also courts the style of the
adventurous novel whose hero crosses the landscape with an outsider's per
spective and encounters the unusual ways of its people.
Hamilton's actual quest may be far less dramatic than a Don Quixote's,
but he still registers the expanding colonial scene with flair. He turns his eye
upon all matters of social discourse, and as a traditional Scottish Presbyte
rian, Hamilton often uses the narrative as a forum for his observations of
the enthusiasm lately generated by the Great Awakening. Although
Hamilton is uniformly critical of this evangelical movement, he reserves his
harshest criticisms for the religious II fanaticks./I He is particularly incensed
by the New Lights, followers of Rev. George Whitefield, the English evan
gelist and Methodist leader who was instrumental in inspiring the Great
Awakening. In the entry for the Susquehanna Ferry, on June I, for example,
he writes about one of these enthusiasts, a " Scots-Irishman by name Tho
mas Quiet" : "This fellow, I observed, had a particularly down hanging look
which made me suspect he was one of our New Light biggots. I guessed right,
for he introduced a discourse concerning Whitefield . . . . " After this man
delivers his message, Hamilton refutes his doctrines, which "put Mr. Quiet
in a passion. He told me flatly that I was damnd without redemption. "
Hamilton has the last word b y suggesting that the man change ,his name
"with all speed, for it was very impropper that such an angry, turbulent
mortall as he should be called by the name of Thomas Quiet " ( 1 82) .
Hamilton's dry tone here and pun on 1/ quiet" suggest the influence of a Res
toration comedy, for one might suspect the convenience of this man's name
for Hamilton's particular illustration. Hamilton is quick to both identify Mr.
Quiet as an enthusiast and criticize him for displays of passion. Hamilton
prefers decorum. He is a reserved Presbyterian surrounded by the frenzy of
a spiritual revolution-a curious mix.
Although intended to stand as discouraging critical judgment, Hamilton's
harsh commentary of the Great Awakening inadvertently serves as a testament
to religious diversity and the opportunity for individual choice in 1744. Despite
his disapproval, Hamilton is inundated with evidence of this spiritual movement.
In the June 1 entry, for example, Hamilton writes about crossing Bohemia Ferry
and notes that the landlord of the ferry house gave him II a short account of the
spirit of enthusiasm that had lately possessed the inhabitants of the forrests there
and informed [him] that it had been a common practice for companys of 20 or
30 hair-brained fanaticks to ride thro' the woods singing of psalms" (183). One
can only speculate whether the landlord or Hamilton labeled these people "hair
brained fanaticks." Although Hamilton's remarks about each town's denomina
tions take on a fascinated, sometimes irritated tone, his empirical tendencies do
indeed provide an articulate record.
For all of its fanaticism, the spiritual climate is remarkably diverse. Colo
nial America appears as a land of religious choice and growing tolerance. On
his first pass through Philadelphia on June 8, for example, Hamilton dines at

46

Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

a tavern with a very mixed company of different nations and religions" and
describes this tableau:
1/

There were S cots, English, Dutch, Germans, and Irish; there were Roman
Catholicks, Church men, Presbyterians, Quakers, Newlightmen, Methodists,
Seventh day men, Moravians, Anabaptists, and one Jew. The whole company
consisted of 25 planted round an oblong table in a great hall well stoked with
flys. The company divided into comittees in conversation; the prevailing topick
was politicks and conjectures of a French war. A knott of Quakers there talked
only about selling flower [sic] and the low price it bore. The[y] touched a little
upon religion, and high words arose among some of the sectaries, but their blood
was not hot enough to quarrell, or, to speak in the canting phraze, their zeal
wanted fervency. (191)

Hamilton presents an ethnically diverse group united more by politics and

conversation than separated by religious or regional differences, and he seems
to momentarily drop his elitist airs to enjoy the spectacle of these twenty
five men "planted" around a large table. Hamilton notes these religious dif
ferences almost scientifically, as if cataloging and arranging a set of species.
Even in his comments about the Quakers, whom he also considers part of the
"fanaticks," he seems to flatter them by remarking that their business dis
cussion takes on an almost reverential quality. Hamilton's commentary cap
tures an animated colonial America engaged in the rigors of trading and the
frenzied building of new towns, identifying an American spirit that will mani
fest twenty years hence in a fight for independence. This colonial pluralism
not only counters the more hierarchical social structures of England and
Europe, but it leaves a vivid impression of social change. Hamilton also finds
this proliferation confusing, despite the industriousness. In Boston on August
16, he remarks that there are "are above 25 churches . . . . [and] the people
here have lately been, and indeed are now, in a great confusion and much
infested with enthusiasm from the preaching of some fanaticks and New Light
teachers, but now this humour begins to lessen" (284) . This "infestation"
remains troublesome, and Hamilton approves the waning of its " humour."
Even when Hamilton seems to accept this spiritually charged environment,
he asserts his intellectual preferences for passion grounded in reason, as a proper
student of the Scottish schooL For example, on August 27 while on the Connecti
cut River, he records an especially distasteful display of enthusiasm:
After dinner there came in a rabble of clowns who fell to disputing upon points
of divinity as learnedly as if they had been professed theologues. 'Tis strange
to see how this humour prevails, even among the lower class of the people here.
They will talk so pointedly about justification, sanctification, adoption, regen
eration, repentance, free grace, reprobation, original sin, and a thousand other
such pritty, chimerical knick knacks as if they had done nothing but studied

Dr. Alexander Hamilto n and Elizabeth House Trist 47

divinity all their life time and perused all the lumber of the scholastic divines,
and yet the fellows look as much, or rather more, like clowns than the very riff
raff of our Maryland planters. To talk in this dialect in our parts would be like
Greek, Hebrew, or Arabick. (297-98)

Hamilton is appalled that these " clowns" have taken on topics previously
reserved for the formally educated. Spiritual authority comes from study, not
from public conversion and loud debate. Hamilton is reluctant to entertain
such access. This egalitarianism simply affronts his aristocratic roots. His as
sessments are often humorous but rarely kind, remarking on the " quacks,"
"barbers," and "greasy-thumbed physics" he encounters. Micklus, in fact, finds
the Itinerarium a "running comic commentary on the major and minor irri
tants to a colonial gentleman" (Comic Genius 96) . Through these gentlemanly
preferences, Hamilton attempts to maintain the status of a gentrified class that
holds itself above the laboring class, however secular or religious it may be.
Taking on the role of narrator, Hamilton would rather comment upon such
scenes than participate in them, for when directly addressed, Hamilton can
be rather evasive and contrary, suggesting both his individualism and his
aloofness. In an entry on June 12 from Philadelphia, for example, Hamilton
records his response to inquiries "about the state of religion in Maryland"
by noting that " [m] y common reply to such questions was that I studied their
constitutions more than their consciences, so knew something of the first, but
nothing of the latter" (197). The admission holds no regrets. Religion is sim
ply not a central point of reference in Hamilton's affairs, and he often resents
its importance. In New London on August 27, for instance, Hamilton responds
to inquires about his home-town ministers in Annapolis: "I told him that the
ministers minded hogsheads of tobacco more than points of doctrine, either
orthodox or heterodox, and that the people were very prone to a certain reli
gion called self in terest" (296-97) . Pointing out some apparent hypocrisy,
Hamilton suggests that commerce is taking precedence over religion.
In some cases, religious behavior seems to have become somewhat super
ficial, and Hamilton struggles with betraying his gentlemanly ways by not
complying with religious practices. On June 15, he visits Narrows Ferry and
records a dining scene with his landlady and her two daughters, who begin
by "put[ing] on solemn, devout faces, hanging down their heads and holding
up their hands for half a minute," gestures which may seem surprisingly brief
but remind Hamilton of his own poor manners, for he had gracelessly fallen
too, without remembering that duty according to a wicked custom [he] had
contracted, sat staring att them, with [his] mouth choak-full. " After noting
this slip, Hamilton relates the following comical scene with an eye for his place
within a new social custom:
/I

They took such a deal of chawing that we were long aU dinner, and the dish began
to cool before we had eat enough. The landlady called for the bedpan. I could

48

Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

not guess what she intended to do with it unless it was to warm her bed to go to
sleep after dinner, but I found that it was used by way of a chaffing dish to warm
our dish of clams. I stared att the novelty for some time, and reaching over for
a mug of beer that stood on the opposite side of the table, my bag sleeve catched
hold of the handle of the bed pan and unfortunatly overset the clams, at hich
the landlady was a little ruffled and muttered a scrape of Dutch
. (205)
.

Excusing his " graceless" behavior by falling prey to some sort of "wicked
custom," Hamilton is more embarrassed about his manners than overtly con
cerned with his failing religious duty. Hamilton as outsider is curious, but aloof
as he records these "native" customs. His religious duty is again faltering,
when on Sunday, June 10, while in Philadelphia, Hamilton includes this con
fession: "I intended to have gone to church, or meeting, to edify by the Word
but was diverted from my good purpose by some polite company 1 fell into
who were all utter strangers to churches and meetings" (194) . To Hamilton,
attending a church service might j ust as easily be forfeited for the pleasures
of a coffeehouse or a stroll down main street. Given that the tavern is more
attractive than the church for engaging in social discourse, his preference
suggests the church is no longer the sole gathering point for colonial life and
that a more predominantly secular society has emerged.
Whether commenting upon matters spiritual or secular, Hamilton 's
authoritative voice often reinforces his self-proclaimed position as arbi
trator of taste and behavior. When he passes through Philadelphia in early
June, for example, he describes a man who "began to rail bitterly against
[the freemason s ] , as an impudent, assuming, and vain caball" (1 90) .
Hamilton judiciously adds, "Tho 1 am no free mason myself, 1 could not
agree with this gentleman, for 1 abhorr all tyrrannicall and arbitrary
notions" (190). Hamilton is not a man of extremes, and he rej ects the
irrational, instead gauging progress in terms of gentrification. After his
homeward-bound visit to Newport on August 22, he notes: "I found the
people in Newport very civil and courteous in their way. . . . For rural
scenes and pritty, frank girls, 1 found it the most agreeable place 1 had been
in thro' all my peregrinations. 1 am sorry to say that the people in their
dealings one with another, and even with strangers, in matters of truck
or bargain have as bad a character for chicane and disingenuity as any of
our American colonys " (292-93) . The rumors that Newport residents are
disingenuous are thus offset by Hamilton's direct observation of courte
ous people and pretty country girls. Still, they fall short in their dishon
est business practices. The qualification "in their way" assumes that these
people do not quite measure up to Hamilton's standards.
From his self-constructed image as gentleman rationalist, Hamilton posi
tions himself as one who stands outside the cultural parade. Although this
position may lend him some sense of authority, by his own hand Hamilton
appears to be yet another character in this panoramic sweep of colonial Ameri-

Dr. Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth House Trist

49

can life. He continues to cast himself into episodic adventures that fancy his
wit and humor, and he gathers strength in his pose as the II objective" observer
who would rather educate others than reveal himself. While dining in a tav
ern in Philadelphia, for instance, he recalls: "A gentleman that sat next me
proposed a number of questions concerning Maryland, understanding I had
come from thence. In my replys I was reserved, pretending to know little of
the matter as being a person whose business did not lye in the way of his
tory and politicks" (191). These comical self-depictions, in turn, reinforce the
ties that the travel narrative has to American fiction. Hamilton himself be
comes a type-the fashionably dressed gentleman traveling with his servant.
He is both character and subject, and by frequently describing his own blus
tering, Hamilton becomes one of the many characters in his saga.
Through Hamilton's eyes, colonial life is thus articulated with a height
ened sense of provocative characters whose antics provide him with an op
portunity for criticism. Humorous and often irreverent, his sketches are stud
ies in caricature. On July 14, in the section " Stonnington," he writes of "one
Captain Noise, a dealer in cattle, whose name and character seemed pritty well
to agree, for he talked very loud, and j oaked and laughed heartily att noth
ing" (249) . Perhaps Hamilton finds this man a captain of noise, for his bois
terous, jovial manner seems unprovoked, a quality which might have appeared
odd to the urbane Hamilton.
In another instance, on August 1 6, Hamilton visits B oston and notes
the ramblings o f " [0] ne Mr. Clackenbridge (very propperly so named upon
account of the volubility of h i s tongue ) , " whose illogical manner
Hamilton finds particularly annoying: " This was a little dapper fellow full
of the opinion of his own learning. He pretended to argue against all the
company, but like a confused logician, he could not hold an argument long
but wandered from one topic to another, leading us all into confusion and
loud talking" ( 2 83 ) . The perfo rmance of this " dapper fellow" catches
Hamilton's attention with his pretense to argue and his inability to sus
tain an argument. H amilton continues with this scrutinizing and elabo
rates on his reactions after he has been listening to Clackenbridge. Here
he critiques both the speaker and the listener:
My head being quite turned this night with this confused dispute and the
thoughts of my j ourney to morro I got into a strange fit of absence, for hav
ing occasion to go out of the company two or three times to talk with Mr. With
ered [owner of Cambridge club, Withered's], I heedlessly every time went into
a room where there was a strange company as I returned and twice sat down in
the midst of them, nor did I discover I was in the wrong box till I found them
all staring att me. For the first slip I was obliged to form the best apology I could,
but att the second hitt I was so confused and saw them so inclinable to laugh
that I ran out at the door precipitatly without saying any thing and betook me
to the right company. I went to my lodging att 12 o'clock. (283-84)

50

Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

Hamilton with tongue-in -cheek fears reprisal of laughter for his " strange fit,"
fully aware that his privileged position places him beyond the reproach of the
"unpolished and rude" country people. Clackenbridge seems to have short
circuited Hamilton, suggesting the infrequency of such encounters. Such odd
behavior almost justifies Hamilton's criticisms, for associating with the illogi
cal affects Hamilton quite oddly. From such portraits, we see Hamilton's gen
teel preferences, for Clackenbridge's wandering rhetoric and Captain Noise's
unprovoked laughter are notable enough to find a place in his travel diary as
curious specimens of human behavior.
Sometimes, Hamilton seems caught up in the human parade and expresses
his genuine curiosity. On his homeward pass through New Castle on Septem
ber 20, he encounters someone who appears to be "half man, half woman."
He describes this person in some detail and then concludes: "I would have
given something to have seen this creature turned topsy turvy, to have known
whether or not it was an hermaphrodite, having often heard of such animals
but never having seen any to my knowledge; but I thought it most prudent
to pass by peaceably, asking no questions lest it should prove the devil in dis
guise" (323). Hamilton's civility seems to get the best of him as he deliber
ates whether to appease his curiosity, leaving yet another example of his ar
ticulate gaze. The doctor and the social scientist thus collide in Hamilton's
observations.
Social commentary turns sarcastic once again on August 1 as Hamilton
rides toward Portsmouth and meets a "very inquisitive" man. Hamilton ex
plains that the stranger wanted to know: "where I was going, whence I came,
and who I was. His questions were all stated in the rustick civil stile" (268).
"I have noted down this dialogue," Hamilton concludes, "as a specimen of
many of the same tenour I had in my j ourney when I met with these inquisi
tive rusticks" (269) . This aristocratic slight allows Hamilton to mark his so
cial distance and signals that this mixing of classes is fairly new and, to
Hamilton, unwelcome. Richard Brown notes that "casual cross-class informa
tion sharing was not part of Sewall's Boston" (25), a period between 1676 and
1 729.8 Hamilton's reluctance to embrace such "cross-class" interaction is
punctuated by his preferences for the gentlemen's clubs and various coffee
houses that he frequents along his j ourney.9 He would rather duplicate the
life of the Scottish intelligentsia of his homeland than j oin in with the
"rustick" population.
Hamilton's criticisms and caricatures find their most creative outlet when
he recreates his moments in the various public houses of colonial America.
In Philadelphia, Hamilton makes this visit on June 11: "In the evening I drank
tea with Mrs. Cume and went to the coffee house. Att 7 a' clock I went to the
Governour's Club . . . . Severall toasts were drank, among which were some
celebrated ones of the female sex" (195). We thus glimpse the drinking hab
its of these gathering spots, as virtually every tavern scene includes lively
conversation punctuated by frequent toasts. During his extended stay in New

Dr. A lexander Hamilton and Elizabeth House rrist

51

York during July, in fact, he comments on the character of the people who "att
the first appearance of a stranger are seemingly civil and courteous, but this
civility and complaisance soon relaxes if he be not either highly recommended
or a good toaper."lO Drinking is Hamilton's social elixir of choice: "To drink
stoutly with the Hungarian Club, who are all bumper men, is the readiest way
for a stranger to recommend himself, and a sett among them are very fond
of making a stranger drunk" (241) . Although alcohol provides a convenient
bond, Hamilton also shows signs of weariness. After visiting the "two cof
fee-houses in this city, " he admits, "I was tired of nothing here but their ex
cessive drinking, for in this place you may have the best of company and
conversation as well as att Philadelphia" (242 ) . In Boston from July 18 to 27,
Hamilton often stops by " Withered's, a tavern att the Change " where he
catches up on news and gossip (256) . On June 3, in Newtown, he enjoys re
freshment with another traveler: "Att night I was treated by Captain Binning
of Boston with a bowl of lemmon punch. He gave me letters for his relations
att Boston . Whiele we put about the bowl, a deal of comicall discourse pa?s'd
in which the landlord, a man of particular talent att telling comic storys, bore
the chief part" (184) . In many of these passages, Hamilton appears as the
congenial aristocratic gentleman willing to mix with and, even enjoy, the
various classes and ethnic groups that congregate at these inns. These are
centers of social life where one can meet strangers, gather news, or exchange
a j oke. As David S. Shields sees it, these venues " enabled persons to bridge
distinctions " based upon rank or profession (xx). Hamilton's tableaux dem
onstrate this potential and bring us into the tavern and the coffeehouse where
he engages in the social commerce of early America.
Hamilton's self-portrait as social critic generally precludes a confessional
tone. Upon his return visit to New York on September 4, however, Hamilton
shares a meal with his friend, Todd, and notes: "We drank two remarkable
toasts which I never before heard mentioned: the first was to our dear selves,
and the tenour of the other was my own health. I told them that if such
rediculous toasts should be heard of out of doors, we should procure the name
of the Selfish Club" (309) . Hamilton's monitoring of such personal notations
signals a self-consciousness that briefly allows the mask of confidence to drop,
and he realizes that his own subjectivity can render the meaning of each scene.
With its extensive details of social and industrial life, the ltinerarium also
provides a dynamic report of an expanding commercial world. In many ways,
Hamilton's narrative is a catalog of colonial treasures as he notes almost ev
ery settlement, town, and city that he passes through-expanding on the
larger centers such as, Albany, Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Salem.
On Tuesday, June 5, for example, Hamilton passes through the town of
Chester in the early evening and finds it "a pritty, neat, and large village, built
chiefly of brick, pleasantly situated upon a small river. . . . Over this river is a
wooden bridge built with large rafters and plank in form of an arch. The State
House is a pritty enough building" (188) . Chester appears solidly constructed,

52

Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

sensibly planned, and properly integrated into its surroundings. Hamilton

gives us an equally panoramic view of rural colonial America when, in an
entry for " Blue Mountains" on June 24, he remarks upon seeing the Catskills
how the " [l] arge open fields, and thickets of woods, alternatly mixed, enter
tains the eye with variety of landskips" (220) . Whether town or country,
Hamilton's physician's eye faithfully records the scene.
Hamilton also identifies commerce as a common denominator connecting
these towns. Although tobacco remains a primary commercial crop for the
colonies, Hamilton notes some diversification in Philadelphia, where the
" staple of this province is bread, flower [sic], and pork. They make no tobacco
but a little for their own use." He then tells of the "plain and levell" condi
tion of the country and finds it " fruitfull in grain and fruits, pretty well wa
tered, and abounding in woods backward." He predicts that this country is
"upon the growing hand, more than any of the provinces of America" (19798) . Similar agricultural observations are made on June 14 while on his way
to " Princetown" :ll there are " many large fields of wheat, barley, and hemp,
which is a great staple and commodity now in this province. . . . " He also marks
a productive future based upon seeing "a great many pleasant fertile mead
ows and pastures" (200) . In Albany on June
Hamilton notes "very good
crops of wheat and pease" and remarks that these are lithe first fields of pease"
that he has seen since leaving England (22 1 ) . On August 1 6, he describes the
extensive shipping industry in Boston, where I/ [t]here were now above 100
ships in the habour besides a great number of small craft," and he adds that
the "people of this province chiefly follow farming and merchandise. Their
staples are shipping, lumber, and fish" (284) . From such details, Hamilton
charts the growth and industry of colonial America.
Hamilton often locates the unity of the colonies themselves within their
own market interests rather than in their cohering allegiance to the crown
that sponsors them. Private interest, however, can hinder rather than enhance
their strength. For example, as the colonies become more interdependent and
connected by ideas, they remain disconnected by separate currencies, a situ
ation Hamilton finds burdensome, as he notes upon visiting Boston: "They
have a variety of paper currencys in the provinces; viz., that of New Hamp
shire, the Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut, all of different value,
divided and sub-divided into old and new tenors so that it is a science to know
the nature and value of their moneys, and what will cost a stranger some study
and application" (285 ) . Hamilton's complaints are well-founded, for the large
amounts of cash that he would have had to carry for such a j ourney would
have been quite burdensome and made him more vulnerable to robbers. To
circumvent such misfortune and inconvenience, Hamilton presents letters of
credit and introduction to prominent gentlemen along his j ourney whose
verifications allow him to travel more freely and which provide both finan
cial and social passports. Notably, the separating factor between the colonies
appears to be cash while the connecting factor is credit which speaks to the

Dr. Alexander Ham ilton and Elizabeth House Trist

53

. need for a common currency that would both unify and simplify intercolo
nial travel and commerce. Hamilton's j ournal thus illustrates that as exten
sive travel routes make smaller towns more accessible and individual borders
become blurred, colonial interaction is enhanced. For Hamilton, this mobil
ity enhances his self-awareness. As he elicits reactions from " outsiders, "
Hamilton experiments with self-construction. If he can appear differently to
his acquaintances in Annapolis than he does to the strangers he meets in
Boston, then this contrast reflects some degree of his own subj ective perspec
tive. In 1744 town and village help define a person's character along with
ethnicity, and as the country expands, this local identity will compete with a
national consciousness of identity.
As Hamilton views his surroundings for both aesthetic properties and
commercial potentials, he often compares colonial towns with styles of Eu
ropean architecture. While returning to the town of Chester on September
19, Hamilton makes these predictions, observations, and comparisons: " In its
present situation it is much like one of our country market towns in England.
When you are in it the majority of the buildings appear low and mean, the
streets unpaved, and therefor [sic] full of rubbish and mire. It makes but an
indifferent appearance att a distance, there being no turrets or steeples to set
it of[] to advantage, but I believe that in a few years hence it will be a great
and a flourishing place and the chief city in North America" (321). The ar
chitecture is familiar and yet promises to transcend its current boundaries.
We also learn of sanitary problems through his criticism, which suggests he
has seen more efficient systems. On June 6, he notes the local architecture of
Philadelphia, lending careful detail while asserting aristocratic tastes: "Att my
entering the city, I observed the regularity of the streets, but att the same time
the majority of the houses mean and low and much decayed, the streets in
generall not paved, very dirty and obstructed with rubbish and lumber, but
their frequent building excuses that. The State House, Assembly House, the
great church in Second Street, and Whitefield's church are good buildings"
(189-90) . Hamilton's displeasure with Philadelphia is tempered here by his
assessment of the "good buildings, " and his observations tell of tremendous
growth since the chartering of Pennsylvania itself in 1681, sixty-three years
before his visit and suggests a city geared toward further expansion.12 From
such comments, Hamilton anticipates the transformation of colonial America.
The travel narrative as historical document not only provides such valu
able details but also demonstrates the inherent subjectivity of a social histo
rian, especially one whose agenda reinforces class distinctions. For example,
Hamilton draws comparisons between the people of Chester: "The people are
much more polite, generally speaking, than I apprehended them to be from
the common account of travellers . . . . Drinking here is not att all in vogue,
and in the place there is pritty good company and conversation to be had. It
is a degree politer than New York tho in its fabrick not so urban, but Boston
excels both for politeness and urbanity tho only a town " (321-22). In

54

Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

Hamilton's preference here for the urbane, he evaluates Chester against a

more sophisticated, or at least more complicated, style. Hamilton's associa
tion between the size of the town and its measure of politeness does seem a
bit obvious, but implicit in Hamilton's preference for "politeness and urban
ity" is not only an unquestioned assumption of future growth and expansion
but also a privileging of continental design.
When the narrative turns to nature, Hamilton is not as interested as Trist
will be in transforming the landscape or cultivating the garden. Instead, na
ture is key to empirical observation, and Hamilton records several scientific
discussions, as in Newport on Thursday, August 23, where on an afternoon
visit with a Dr. Moffat and Dr. Brett he has "a deal of learned discourse about
microscopicall experiments, and the order, elegance, and uniformity of Na
ture in the texture of all bodies, both animate and inanimate" (292) . Here
Hamilton offers the balanced, contained nature of the Enlightenment.
Hamilton also devotes passages to natural beauty and geological composition,
as when he travels through a village in Rhode Island called Tower Hill (or
South Kingstown) accompanied by two Boston merchants, Benjamin Parker
and Henry Laughton, on Sunday, July 15: "We viewed the sea from a high
rock where we could see the spray beating with violence over the tops of the
rocks upon the coast and below us, of three or four miles' extent, a pleasant
green meadow, thro' the middle of which ran a pritty winding river. Most of
the country round is open, hilly, and rocky, and upon the rocks there is a great
deal of spar, or substance like white marble, but in very small pieces" (25051) . Standing above the sea, Hamilton is protected from any immediate dan
ger which allows him to appreciate the power of nature rather than impos
ing a desire to contain it.13 Hamilton declines to associate divine power with
the natural forces before him; instead, nature is a power in its own right.
Anticipating a Romantic depiction of nature, Hamilton interjects a quality of
"violence" in his description of the waves beating against the rocks which
suggests their deliberate, almost malevolent willfulness.
At other times, nature appears bucolic and inviting. In late August, for
example, he passes through Branford and finds it "a pleasant, delightfull part
of the country, being a medley of fine green plains, and little rockey and woody
hills, caped over as it were with bushes" (299) . In yet another mood, nature
is portrayed in a dreamlike fashion, providing a melancholy backdrop to his
unhurried travels. After visiting Cook's Island, Hamilton records a somewhat
Gothic scene: "This wild and solitary place, where nothing presents but huge
precipices and inaccessible steeps where foot of man never was, infused in my
mind a kind of melancholy and filled my imagination with odd thoughts,
which att the same time had something pleasant in them" (216-17) . Hamilton
dwells in a sublime moment here by creating a relationship with nature that
is both thrilling and potentially annihilating as he sails down the Hudson
River inspired by nature's power. His delight upon seeing the "huge preci
pices and inaccessible steeps " towering above him as he is safely ensconced

Dr. A lexander Hamilton and Elizabeth House rrist

55

on a boat demonstrates nature's potential for either destruction or creation,

oppression or transcendence. Hamilton confirms Thomas Weiskel's assess
ment that in the eighteenth-century sublime, empirical and emotional re
sponses to nature can transport the self into transcendent states as "a sense
of the numinous was diffused through all the grander aspects of nature" (14) .
Hamilton is inspired by nature as long as it does not cause physical discom
fort or inconvenience. These passages expand Hamilton's index of colonial life
and offer new models of interaction and a new sense of familiarity and com
fort with the colonial landscape.
Given his literary interests, Hamilton may have been influenced by asso
ciations of nature with states of awe and decay, as he idealizes nature's im
posing force. On July 4, for example, Hamilton describes Buttermilk Island
located between Albany and York: "This appeared a very wild, romantick place
surrounded with huge rocks, dreadfull precipices, and scraggy broken trees"
(233) . On July 14, in Rhode Island, Hamilton makes a more direct literary
allusion; he records that after "travelling thro 12 miles more of stonny, rough
road, we passed by an old fashioned wooden house att the end of a lane, dark
ened and shaded over with a thick grove of tall trees." To this already poetic
image, Hamilton adds, "This appeared to me very romantick and brought into
my mind some romantick descriptions of rural scenes in Spencer's Fairy
Queen [sic] " (249) . Here Hamilton equates nature with a rustic simplicity that
charms and soothes him as nature's restorative effects are appreciated.
When Hamilton is not j otting down scenes of natural beauty or architec
tural wonders, his narrative is a study in pre-fiction. He embellishes his en
tries and represents himself and others in exaggerated circumstances. Influ
enced by his literary milieu, Hamilton occasionally mimics the Restoration
comedy and the sentimental novel with his animated sketches of human char
acter. Invested in language, Hamilton uses words as the medium through
which he defines his physical world. The travel narrative obligingly provides
this artist with a canvas upon which he constructs himself and his adventures.
He is also a literary man whose readings along the journey include Cervantes,
Fielding, Homer, Montaigne, Rollin, Shakespeare, and Spenser, a collection
that suggests both a contemplative and adventurous mind. In fact, J. A. Leo
Lemay considers literature Hamilton's "avocation" and credits him with "ex
tensive" knowledge (222). Lemay also finds that the numerous colonial clubs
contribute to Hamilton's literary interests. For instance, Hamilton visits the
Hungarian Club in New York on June 16 and records, " [o]ur conversation
ended this night with a piece of criticism upon a poem in the newspaper"
(Itinerarium 209) . And as Hamilton's previously noted commentary on " Mr.
Thomas Quiet" might suggest, the literary world intrudes upon his render
ing of the real world, which lends a semi fictional tone to some of his more
colorful portraits.
This fictional element is also apparent in Hamilton's characterizations of
" rustick " characters. In a humorously authoritative tone, he writes from

56

Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

Philadelphia on June 6: "I observed Severall comicall, grotesque phizzesI4 in

the inn wher [ e] I put up which would have afforded variety of hints for a
painter of Hogarth's turn. They talked there upon all subj ects-politicks, re
ligion, and trade-some tollerably well, but most of them ignorantly. . . . I was
shaved by a little, finicall, hump backd old barber who kept dancing round me
and talking all the time of the operation and yet did his job lightly and to a
hair. He abounded in compliments and was a very civil fellow in his way"
(Itinerarium 190) . The Hogarthian reference here places Hamilton's charac
terizations against the British style with its fascination for the odd and the
peculiar. Amidst his witty repartee and apparently detached perspective,
Hamilton displays his keen interest in humanity and delights in what amuses
his fellow colonials. The numerous portraits of strong-minded individuals
with passionate views about public issues further enliven his animated view
of eighteenth-century American life. These satirical sketches, in turn, mirror
those appearing in the contemporary British gazettes, the Tattler and Spec
tator, and suggest the talent that will later manifest upon Hamilton's return
to Maryland, when he establishes the Tuesday Club.IS Hamilton embraces his
individual mobility while also marking his preferences for class distinctions
as he travels through colonial America. His portraits of cultural diversity
imply a greater potential for class and cultural interaction than in either En
gland or Europe, largely because of the less rigidly formed social structures
in colonial America. In Hamilton's homage to Hogarth, he suggests a colo
nial scene which is evolving away from its British origins. Above all, his
sketches display an author in control of his subjects, an artist in control of his
pallet, a first-person narrative enthralled in its subjectivity.
Hamilton turns the brush upon himself, depicting himself as an object of
curiosity in the passing pageantry of colonial diversity. On Wednesday, June
13, his arrival in Trenton, New Jersey, arouses curiosity, and his servant,
Dromo, is questioned: "I was treated att my entry into the town with a dish
of staring and gaping from the shop doors and windows, and I observed two
or three people laying hold of Dromo's stirrups, enquiring, I suppose, who I
was, and whence I came" (Itinerarium 199) . In noting this natural curiosity,
Hamilton reinforces how the extensive gossip networks operate throughout
the colonies where information is gathered almost instantaneously upon the
arrival of any visitor, a situation which supports Richard Brown's assertion
that " [s ] uch a phenomenon of information moving freely, without the exer
cise of personal discretion and out of context, was a new phenomenon with
important ramifications for the redistribution of cultural and political power"
(41 ) . Hamilton tests this paradigm while traveling to Perth Amboy on June
15 where he meets two men: " First of all (as it is naturall) we enquired con
cerning news. I gave him an account of such scraps of news as I had picked up
att Philadelphia," and " [a] fter discussing news" their conversation turned
toward their horses and mutual professions (203-4) . Hamilton's reference
here to sharing "scraps of news" recalls Frank Shuffelton's note that in the

Dr. A lexander Ham ilton and Elizabeth House rrist

57

New Republic "rich networks of epistolary exchange that passed on gossip,

political news, and intellectual speculation" alleviated "a sense of personal
isolation and social vacancy, of living distant from a society of like-minded
men and women" ("Different Voices " 289). Hamilton's numerous entries
noting lively conversations where gossip is freely exchanged support this
evaluation.
Similarly, Hamilton's narrative reconfirms a study of Boston between 1676
and 1729 wherein Richard Brown finds that " face-to-face diffusion was the
dominant mode" of mass communication in which "personal information
networks seldom relied much on printing" (34) .16 Moving from town to town
gathering and passing on information, Hamilton himself becomes part of a
network which is becoming increasingly democratic in both its sources and
its consumers. Hamilton is then reflected and defined by the curiosity of the
townspeople he encounters, leaving him to respond and, if he so pleases, al
ter his persona. These choices reinforce the narrative's capacity for subjectivity
whereby Hamilton copies down his impressions, recreates scenes, and inter
prets the performances of both himself and his fellow colonials. To enhance
these portraits, Hamilton often conceals his identity for fear of attracting even
more attention. As if he is taking on the role of an omniscient narrator in a
novel, Hamilton attempts to portray himself as an unseen observer. This
stance would have been unforgivably narcissistic in a prior era. On June 16,
for example, while strolling one afternoon along " severall of the principall
streets" in New York, he describes how he was "guarding against staring about
[himself] as much as possible for fear of being remarked for a stranger, gap
ing and staring being the true criterion or proof of rustick strangers in all
places" (Itinerarium 208). Although Hamilton claims to spot the signs of
"rustick strangers," he seems to be immune to similar accusations. He would
rather gossip than be gossiped about. Hamilton thus affects an unassuming
pose, one that Albert Bushnell Hart praises in his 1907 introduction to the
ltinerarium: " [Hamilton] modestly refrains from discussion of his own family
or condition and mentions his first name only in the dedication to his friend
Razolini " (xi) . Hart's admiration for Hamilton's restraint applies to travel
literature genre in general, which derives its authority by providing facts and
objective observations in order to fulfill its instructive intention. Including
personal history would counter this intention.
Quite pleasantly, however, Hamilton often uses his "objectivity" to make
highly subjective comments that lend his narrative a very specific perspec
tive. For example, Hamilton meets an old fellow named Smith" while stop
ping in Brookhaven and records this scene:
II

He showed us severall antick tricks such as jumping half a foot high upon his
bum without touching the floor with any other part of his body. Then he turned
and did the same upon his belly. Then he stood upright upon his head. He told
us he was 75

years of age and swore damn his old shoes if any man in America

58

Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

could do the like. He asked me whence I came and whither I went. I answered
him I came from Calliphurnia and was going to Lanthern Land. He swore damn
his old shoes again if he had not been a sailor all his life long and yet never had
heard of such places. (Itinerarium 244-45)

The passage not only demonstrates Hamilton's art for caricature but also sig
nals his prevailing displeasure with the lower classes. J. A. Leo Lemay describes
this behavior as a trend toward an "increasing democratization of manners
in America, " which "was an affront to an aristocratic gentleman" (Men of
Letters 221). Still, Hamilton is slow to embrace this crossing of cultu'res and
promotes, instead, a more elitist attitude toward the " rustics." As Micklus
kindly puts it, "Hamilton was an Old World gentleman living in a crude and
pushy New World, and he did not like the directions in which he was being
pushed" (Comic Genius 1 10) . The travel narrative allows Hamilton to elabo
rate on his frustrations. We are certainly given Hamilton's colonial America
in this text, a subjective view with frequent examples of cross-cultural ex
changes that provide a diverse portrait of colonial life. This subjectivity moves
the travel narrative closer to fiction.
The Itinerarium again illustrates cultural diversity in another of
Hamilton's exchanges with "inquisitive rusticks." This time he is on his way
to Portsmouth, where on August 1 he records this dialogue:
" Pray sir, if I may be so bold, where are you going ? " "Prithee, friend," says I,
"where are you going ?" "Why, I go along the road here a little way." "So do I,
friend," replied I. "But may I presume, sir, whence do you come ?" "And from
whence do you come, friend ? " says I. "Pardon me, from John Singleton's farm,"
replied he, "with a bag of oats." "And I come from Maryland," said I, "with a
portmanteau and baggage." " Maryland ! " said my companion, "where the devil
is that there place ? I have never heard of it. But pray, sir, may I be so free as to
ask your name ? " "And may I be so free as to ask yours, friend ? " said I. " Mine is
Jerry Jacobs, att your service," replied he. I told him that mine was Bombast
Huynhym van Helmount, att his service. "A strange name indeed; belike your
a Dutchman, sir,-a captain of a ship, belike." "No, friend," says I, "I am a High
German alchymist." " Bless us l You don't say so; that's a trade I never heard of;
what may you deal in, sir ? " "I sell air," said I. "Air," said he, " damn it, a strange
commodity. I'd thank you for some wholesom air to cure my fevers which have
held me these two months." (268-69)

This encounter suggests that the notion of a leisu red traveler, such as
Hamilton, is somewhat uncommon in a society in which one travels prima
rily for trade. We also discover the significant information gap, or perhaps
simply a lack of geographical knowledge, that would permit such a confusion
over Maryland's location. And as names divulge ethnic origin, "Bombast
Huynhym van Helmount " seems to suggest a Dutch lineage, and yet one

Dr. A lexander Hamilton and Elizabeth House Trist

59

wonders if Hamilton meant a Swiftian allusion to the horse-ruled country

of the Houyhnhnms ? Perhaps as a " High German" Hamilton can evoke an
even greater level of eccentricity, a certain requirement for an " alchymist"
who deals in air that apparently has medicinal powers.
Hamilton's imaginative self-fabrication reinforces the possibilities of self
invention in a land where strangers are subjects of curiosity and, in this case,
welcomed with great innocence. These " rustics" appear bothersome and bor
ing to a man of his sensibilities, a reaction that reinforces his elitist attitudes
and makes him "somewhat of a severe critic of his countrymen" (Hart xvii) .
Hamilton's privileged position allows him the luxury of travel for pleasure.
Travel as entertainment offers him a chance to observe behaviors and render
them comical or appropriate. The travel narrative legitimizes such observa
tions by providing a venue for one to record such impressions, thus judging
them important enough to be preserved.
Comparisons are often based upon Hamilton's appreciation for an educated
class. For example, while in New York on September 10, Hamilton writes, in
French and including a translation, to his Jamaican friend Monsieur de La
Moinnerie. After acknowledging that he is "in perfect health" since leaving
Boston," Hamilton notes, "I have known different climates and different faces
since I last saw you . . . . I have seen some men whom you might call fools,
other men of ingenuity, but I have not yet met any learned men" (Itinerarium
315) . Although Hamilton does not elaborate on what constitutes a "learned"
man, one suspects it has as much to do with social standing as with formal
education. Hamilton again passes j udgment on his fellow colonials in a July
2 entry from Oversleigh, j ust after leaving Schenectady, in which he offers a
lengthy critique of the Dutch: "But notwithstanding all this nicety and clean
liness in their houses, they are in their persons slovenly and dirty. They live
here very frugally and plain, for the chief merit among them seems to be
riches, which they spare no pains or trouble to acquire, but are a civil and
hospitable people in their way but, att best, rustick and unpolished" (229-30) .
This backhanded compliment suggests that external appearance can be sepa
rated from moral character, and one wonders if Hamilton might just be a bit
envious of the Dutch for their material prosperity. Perhaps the potential for
upward mobility offends his gentrified ways. As part of a larger social mas
querade, Hamilton codifies colonial culture as if to leave a map for the unini
tiated. Certainly, Hamilton's own aristocratic manner makes him a vulner
able source of someone else's characterizations.
Even though Hamilton seems willing at times to accept the growing eth
nic diversity of colonial America, his tolerance is eclipsed by his dislike for
the Indians that he encounters along his way. After attending an English
chapel in Boston, for example, Hamilton records this remark: "There sat some
Indians in a pew near me who stank so that they almost made me turn up
my dinner. They made a profound reverence to the parson when he finished;
the men bowed, and the squas [sic] curtsied" (258) . On his way to Albany on

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Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

June 25, Hamilton describes how his party "went ashore to borrow another
[canoe] to carry [their] baggage." Once there, he makes these observations:
"We found the poor people there in great terror of the Indians; they being
apprehensive that they woul d begin their old trade of scalping" (221) .
Hamilton can show sympathy toward the "poor people, " but he still portrays
the Indians as irrational and rash, suggesting that the colonials, not the Na
tive Americans, are under siege.
Micklus notes Hamilton's particularly derogatory remarks toward Indi
ans and finds that in Hamilton's mind, "the only noble savage was a culti
vated one" (Comic Genius 99n . ) . Thus, when Hamilton does present a coop
erative scene between the colonials and local tribes, it carries conditional praise,
as on June 28, while exploring the town of Schenectady located on the
" Mohook River" : "It is a trading village, the people carrying on a traffick with
the Indians-their chief commoditys wampum, knives, needles, and other
such pedlary ware" (Itinerarium 224). He especially favors the Indians who
have adopted "civilized" manners, such as the " Indian King named George, "
whom he visits on July 14 while traveling outside of Providence. Hamilton
is impressed by the "twenty or thirty 1000 acres of very fine levell iand round
this house" and the " good stock of horses and other cattle." The closing pas
sage reveals the true standard of his approval: "This King lives after the En
glish mode. His subjects have lost their own government policy and laws and
are servants or vassals to the English here. His queen goes in a high modish
dress in her silks, hoops, stays, and dresses like an English woman. He edu
cates his children to the belles lettres and is himself a very complaisant man
nerly man. We pay'd him a visit, and he treated us with a glass of good wine"
(249) . By applauding King George for his apparent cultural assimilation,
Hamilton is able to praise his behavior and express confidence that the " In
dian problem " is diminishing. Considering that the travel narrative i s
Hamilton's own universe of ideas and references that gather symbolic mean
ing, his observations reveal distinctive patterns. The last passage then provides
a contrast for a more impoverished portrait drawn from an encounter on Fri
day, August 31, on his way to York Island while breakfasting in Kingsbridge:
"I saw about 10 Indians fishing for oysters in the gutt before the door. The
wretches waded about stark naked and threw the oysters, as they picked them
up with their hands, into baskets that hung upon their left shoulder. They are
a lazy, indolent generation and would rather starve than work att any time,
but being unacquainted with our luxury, nature in them has few demands,
which are easily satisfied " (305). The poverty here is thus explained by the
Indian's "nature," which stands in contrast to Hamilton's cultural preference
for "luxury." He seems unable to imagine that they might not desire "silks,
hoops, and stays." Although Hamilton sets himself apart from most every
one he meets, he more emphatically relegates the natives to the position of
outsider. On July 1 7, he marks a waning of Native American strength when
he visits Mount Hope and identifies it as "formerly the strong hold or ref-

Dr. Alexan der Hamilton and Elizabeth House Trist

61

uge of an Indian king named Philip who held the place a long time against
the first settlers and used to be very troublesome by making excursions"
(253) Y Hamilton suggests here that the " troublesome" threat of the native
peoples has virtually disappeared even though in reality their numbers are
still strong. Contrasting Hamilton's portraits of culturally diverse gatherings
at colonial inns and coffeehouses, he clearly denies the Native Americans a
place around the table.
Political di scussions are another source for Hamilton's portraits. Talk
abounded of the " dreaded" and expected French war" (181, 1 87) or King
George's War (1744-48), which was part of a larger series of territorial con
flicts between France and England over land in Europe, Canada, and the west
ern territories. General discussion of daily events was pervasive and not solely
limited to elite circles. Hamilton notes in Philadelphia on September 15 that
his "barber came to shave [him] and gave [him] a harangue of politicks and
news" (319) . During his first time through New York, Hamilton has tea at a
"gentlewoman's house" where he meets "an old lady" whose "discourse ran
upon news and politicks" (209) . On his homeward j ourney, on September 20,
Hamilton leaves this note from Newcastle regarding he and his friend, Gillpin:
" [We] talked over politicks and news relating to Maryland while we were in
bed before we went to sleep, and our discourse was interlaced with hideous
yawnings, like two tired and weary travellers, till att last the nodding diety
[sic] took hold of us in the middle of half uttered words and broken sentences"
(323 ) . Even the weary traveler shares information in Hamilton's colonial
world, wherever he is-the market, tea room, barber shop, bedroom. Despite
Hamilton's protestations of class mixing, gossiping was clearly pervasive and
vital to the thriving network of information in colonial America. Hamilton's
narrative marks a reorganization of information wherein boundaries are more
fluid and possibilities more apparent. In recording these scenes with his spir
ited pen, Hamilton moves further away from the Puritan diary by expand
ing the scope of the first-person narrative to include the secular diversity and
animation that surrounds him.
In addition to marking general patterns of social behavior, Hamilton also
notes encounters between men and women that are particular to the grow
ing colonial population. As Hamilton comments upon gender roles and ex
pectations, he often holds the same prej udices toward women as he does for
all others who do not meet his standards for class and decorum. He makes no
secret of his ever observant, gazing eye that registers both his attraction for
and, at times, disdain of " the fair sex." On one level, such entries reflect his
status as a curious thirty-one-year-old bachelor. His unflattering remarks may
also mask his insecurity about his health. In either case, Hamilton's travel
narrative serves yet another function, this time as a personal diary. The as
sociation between health and bachelorhood is underscored in a letter written
six months prior to the journey and dated November 6, 1743, when Hamilton
refers to his health while explaining his unmarried state: "I shall only say I
II

62

Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

am not well in health, and for that reason chiefly continue still a Batchellor. I
have more fatique [sic] and trouble than I care for, I find it a very hard mat
ter to live well and grow rich" (qtd. in Lemay, Men of Letters 217). Despite
the restrictions imposed upon him from his consumptive condition, Hamilton
articulates his observations with keen discernment.
In the j ournal's first entry, for example, dated Wednesday, May 30,
Hamilton notes a dinner guest whose "wife had no share in the conversation;
he is blessed indeed with a silent woman ." He then explains that this phe
nomena is due to a hearing defect which prevents her from understanding
"what is spoke, and therefor not knowing how to make pertinent replys, she
chuses to hold her tongue." With this odd definition of choice, Hamilton ends
with a note to himself: ''It is well I have thus accounted for it; else such a
character in the sex would appear quite out of nature" (Itin erarium 178).
Women are thus more appreciated for their silence than their intelligent con
tributions to conversation. Hamilton also appreciates attractive women, as on
June 15, when he observes a woman waiting with her husband to board the
York Ferry, describing her as "a beauty, having a fine complexion and good
features, black eyes and hair, and an elegant shape. She had an amorous look,
and her eyes, methought, spoke a language which is universally understood"
(Itinerarium 206). This flattering portrait continues as Hamilton pays little
regard for the content of her words : "While she sat there her tongue never
lay still, and tho' her discourse was of no great importance, yet methought
her voice had musick in it, and I was fool enough to be highly pleased to see
her smiles att every little impertinence she uttered" (206). The woman shares
a story about a sickly neighbor whom she fears will die because, "last night
she had dreamt of nothing but white horses and washing of linnen." The
symbolic imagery escapes Hamilton's interest, for as he confesses: "I heard
this stuff with as much pleasure as if Demosthenes or Cicero had been ex
erting their best talents, but mean time was not so stupid but I knew that it
was the fine face and eyes and not the discourse that charmed me" (206). Thus
Hamilton catalogs women as he does the rest of his surroundings, with an
eye for imposing his own standards and asserting his point of view. Not only
does Hamilton enjoy occupying his role as narrator, but he seems quite com
fortable in placing himself in the center as arbitrator of female behavior.
His observations of women often deem them as ornaments which deco
rate the colonial social scene, a view that may provide him with a convenient
mask through which he can direct his comments while hiding behind the role
of social commentator. Many of his observations include comparative state
ments, such as this comment on June 16, from New York: "The women of
fashion here appear more in publick than in Philadelphia and dress much
gayer." And he concedes that "the presence of a pritty lady, as I hinted be
fore, makes even triffling agreeable" (208) . In Newport, Rhode Island, on July
16, he notes that the "town is as remarkable for pritty women as Albany is
for ugly ones, many of whom one may see sitting in the shops in passing along

Dr. Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth House Tris t 63

the street" (252) . In yet another instance, while on the return trip through
Boston, Hamilton remarks that " this place abounds with pritty women who
appear rather more abroad than they do att York and dress elegantly. They
are, for the most part, free and affable as well as pritty. I saw not one prude
while I was here" (285). He thus enjoys the company of attractive women who
are nicely dressed and who are neither too vocal nor too prudish. These pas
sages also show that women apparently do have time to sit in shops and walk
along the streets and that they are not all at home. Possibly, these are women
in business or women of a more leisured class, the counterparts to the men
that Hamilton sees in the clubs and inns.
The travel narrative allows Hamilton to shift roles from narrator to actor,
providing him a chance to layer his subjective portrayal of colonial life. He
not only presents a situation but also offers his reactions to it. In an entry
for New York on June 1 7, for example, Hamilton declines a Mr. Jeffreys's
suggestion that "to walk out after dusk upon this platform was a good way
for a stranger to fit himself with a courtezan, for that place was the general
rendezvous of the fair sex of that profession after sun set. He told me there
was a good choice of pritty lasses among them, both Dutch and English. How
ever, I was not so abandoned as to go among them but went and supped with
the Club att Todd's " (210). Hamilton is reticent to engage in an illicit rela
tionship, despite his sometimes derogatory comments about women. This
passage leaves it unclear whether Hamilton was simply not in the mood that
particular night, or if he ever visited lithe fair sex of that profession" at all. In
yet another way Hamilton records local Ilcommerce, " here with the
" courtezan" as a potential commodity.
He may have refrained from soliciting a prostitute, but Hamilton is not
above playing the role of the bon vivant. In Albany on June 26, Hamilton tells
of having to politely kiss women while being introduced into " about 20 or
30 houses." He complies with this custom but then compares the scene to II a
pennance, for the generality of the women here, both old and young, are re
markably ugly" (222). Hamilton as character shows that he can adapt to lo
cal custom, and Hamilton as narrator can impose his critical eye as to the
benefits of his actions. These passages thus incorporate many of Hamilton's
literary skills. He chronicles daily life, and he sketches the scene adding his
criticisms and embellishments.
Although Hamilton's wit might soften the cruder nature of some remarks,
he can be quite acerbic. In his discussion of the innkeeper, Madam Lay, on
August 27, in Seabrook, Hamilton tries to ascertain the meaning of her name,
and although he initially claims that "I find they are not quite so scrupulous
about bestowing titles here as in Maryland," he finally decides: "I cannot tell
for what, for she is the homeliest piece both as to mien, make, and dress that
ever I saw, being a little round shouldered woman, pale faced and wrinkly,
clothed in coarsest home spun cloth; but it is needless to dispute her right to
the title since we know many upon whom it is bestowed who have as little

64

Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

right as she" (298) . In light of his incredulity, Hamilton is telling us some

thing about his sexual milieu and that apparently " Madam Lay " is a fairly
common fixture in his colonial world. Moreover, Hamilton is not simply re
cording his social environment as Samuel Sewall might have recorded the
weather, but he has elevated his subjectivity to the central point of the text
through his judgments and speculations about others for his own amusement.
For all his dismissive remarks, Hamilton does occasionally enjoy a pleas
ant moment while in the company of " th e ladies, " as on August 22, in
Whitehall, when he and his friend Dr. Keith "made an appointment for a
promenade." He tells of a two-hour walk with three couples and notes that
" [w] e enjoyed all the pleasures of gallantry without transgressing the rules
of modesty or good manners." He even concedes: "I, with reluctance, bid the
ladies farewell, expressing some regrett that, being a stranger in their town
and obliged soon to leave it, I should perhaps never have the happy opportu
nity of their agreeable company again" (292) . Hamilton softens his harsher
criticisms with his genteel attitudes, for when there are suitable women, he
is willing to play the gentleman. One wonders, however, if Hamilton's high
standards are but a thin disguise for his insecurity about the " fair sex," as he
seems to find them so generally unsatisfactory.
While Hamilton maintains the role of the eighteenth-century gentleman,
he also seems fascinated by the role of the rake, as suggested by Dr. Keith. In
Newport on July 16, Hamilton describes Keith as one who "passed for a man
of great gallantry here, being frequently visited by the young ladies in town
who are generally very airy and frolicksome." Dr. Keith then proceeds to dis
play for Hamilton some " evidence" of his apparent gallantry: " He showed m e
a drawer full of the trophys o f the fair, which h e called his cabinet o f curiositys.
They consisted of tore fans, fragments of gloves, whims, snuff boxes, girdles,
apron strings, laced shoes and shoe heels, pin cuss ions, hussifs, and a deal of
other such trumpery" (253) . Although Hamilton goes on in detail about the
contents of this box, we are left to wonder what his interior responses are to
this curious array of "trophys, " for Hamilton simply concludes this passage
by noting, "I lay this night att Dr. Moffet's [sic] lodging." The sense of anti
climax in Hamilton's account might further suggest that the reason for such
a notation is largely voyeuristic-on either Hamilton's or Dr. Keith's part. In
either case, these obj ects serve as metonymies for the supposed affairs that
surrounded their acquisitions. The appearance supersedes the reality, and
Hamilton's literary record embellishes the vision by leaving it to stand on its
own, almost as if he wishes to revisit it and gather new impressions each time.
To read such passages against the context of the novel, sentimental novel,
or the Restoration comedy is not so unlikely once we read of the literary world
that Hamilton inhabits. When Hamilton attends a book auction a week later
while in Boston, on July 24, he remarks that the "books that sold best at this
auction while I was there, were Pamela, Antipamela, The Fortunate Maid,
Ovid's Art of Love and The Marrows of Moderen Divinity" (Itinerarium 260) .

Dr. Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth House Trist

65

With the possible exception of the last title, Hamilton's contemporaries ap

pear as interested in romance and the "fair sex" as the flirtatious Hamilton
himself. But unlike the rakish character of the eighteenth-century novel,
Hamilton expresses his ideas about women in the privacy of his journal while
projecting an indifferent exterior. Hamilton does appreciate women who are
lively, and his detailed portraits betray any indifference. While lodged in
Boston near Beacon Hill on July 18, for example, he favorably describes his
landlady, Mrs. Guneau, as "a French woman" who had "much of the humour
of that nation, a deal of talk, and a deal of action, " and yet he seems disap
pointed by the daughter, "a passable handsom girl, nothing of the French spirit
in her but rather too grave and sedate" (255, 257) . In praising the mother's
spiritedness, Hamilton disregards the girl for her seriousness. When he re
turns to Boston in August, Hamilton again has tea with Mrs. Guneau, who
tells him about a Church of England clergyman who, as Hamilton records,
"lost his living for being too sweet upon his landlady's daughter, a great belly
being the consequence." Hamilton then reflects, "I pitied him only for his
imprudence and want of policy. As for the crime, considdered in a certain light
it is but a peccadillo, and he might have escaped unobserved had he had the
same cunning as some others of his brethern who doubtless are as deep in
the dirt as he is in the mire . . . . he was an excellent preacher; but the wisest
men have been led into silly scrapes by the attractions of that vain sex . . . "
(272-73). The "certain light" of class distinction allows Hamilton to forgive
this " peccadillo " and disregard the woman's circumstances altogether.
Hamilton pities this man and does not appear shocked by this story, perhaps
a common one. As these passages suggest, there appears no middle ground
in Hamilton 's polemical images of women. They are either unpleasant and
vain or "airy and frolicsome."
Using his clinical, observational powers, H amilton's assessments of a
woman's nature include descriptions of her manner and dress. In Boston on
August 9, he describes a daughter of a "countrywoman" as "a pritty buxom
girl in a gay tawdry deshabille, having on a robe de chambre of cherry coloured
silk laced with silver round the sleeves and skirts and neither hoop nor stays."
Hamilton thus demonstrates his familiarity with women's clothing, and now
having gathered the "evidence," he draws his conclusion: "By this girl's physi
ognomy, I judged she was one of that illustrious class of the sex commonly
called coquettes" (276). Although Hamilton fails to record any conversation
here, his j udgments are based solely upon the girl's appearance. A woman is,
therefore, not to appear too flirtatious nor too grave, if she is to capture
Hamilton's eye.
Occasionally, Hamilton does meet an acceptable woman, although he rarely
acts upon his attraction. At the conclusion of his letter of September 10 to
Monsieur de La Moinnerie, Hamilton tells his friend that he need not "fear
the winter in Boston, for the sex there is so full of charm and friendly
warmth." Hamilton then concedes, " [B]ut I shall speak no more of it, leaving

..

A'kq.,
,-eo

9-

::I

cJl

';Z.
<

------- TRIST'S JOURNEY

OCEAN

ATLANTIC

----

--=---\

\
--------

--------

(See map opposite page) On December 21,1783, Elizabeth House

Pittsburgh
Wheeling
Kentucky River

where she awaits passage to Philadelphia. Trist finally sails home

in the spring of 1785.

Wabash River

pass on boat
pass on boat
breaks off within a few miles
awaiting passage to Philadelphia

Arkansaw River
Yazoo River
Natchez
Balize

Mississippi River

pass on boat

Bedford

died in February, Trist travels on to the Acadian coast and then

to Balize, Mississippi (in the territory of Spanish Louisiana),

Louisville

meets up with the Ohio River

pass on boat

Elizabeth Town
Carlisle

down the Ohio River to the Mississippi River, which leads her
to Natchez in July 1784. Upon discovery that her husband had

Philadelphia
Lancaster

OUTGOING

Itinerary: Elizabeth House Trist's Journey

January 9, 1784. She resumes her journey on May 20, traveling

ture, Trist travels by road to Pittsburgh, where she arrives on

Mountains this season of the year." Despite the winter depar

me who has never experienced any hardships to ride over the

to Jefferson in anticipation, "It is a very great undertaking for

destined for Natchez in the Louisiana Territory. As she writes

Trist departs Philadelphia for a journey into the Ohio Frontier,

68

Declaring the Self in th e Social Sp here

it to those who are their beholders and who are more warmer blood than I
am, the cares of captivating them" (315). This admission of his lesser passion
may either reflect his state of health or provide some explanation for his re
lentless criticism of women, for it is possible that Hamilton does not imag
ine himself capable of captivating such charming women. On Saturday, Au
gust II, he records this response after breakfasting on chocolate at the house
of Monsieur Bodineau, which was "well furnished with women of all sorts
and sizes. There were old and young, tall and short, fat and lean, ugly and
pritty dames to be seen here." Hamilton then singles out one " girl" who is
described as having " small stature, no beauty, but there was life and sense in
her conversation; her witt was mixed with j udgement and sollidity; her
thoughts were quick, lively, and well expressed. She was, in fine, a proper
mixture of the French mercury and English phlegm" (279) . Hamilton may
express minimal interest in captivating these women, but he never ceases his
observations. This flattering portrait offers a pleasant contrast to his usual
condescension, for even though this woman is not particularly beautiful,
Hamilton praises her intelligent, lively manner. On August 21, while travel
ing through Whitehall, Hamilton again seems genuinely pleased when he
notes that the innkeeper's daughter was not only " a hands om girl " but "was
the most unaffected and best behaved country girl ever I met with. Her mod
esty had nothing of the prude in it nor had her frolicksome freeness any dash
of impudence" (290-91). Simplicity attracts him. Perhaps women have taken
on a certain coquettish sophistication that proves either too complicated for
this Scot or he is revealing his preference for the modest yet accessible coun
try girl who appears to be out of place in the growing cities of colonial America.
Hamilton does seem to have found a few "properly balanced" women
during his 1,624 mile journey.18 Among its other attributes, the ltinerarium
offers a frank view of colonial America from the perspective of a willing bach
elor who is bold in judgments and prudent in actions. A substantial part of
the ltinerarium is composed of Hamilton's references to women, and the
passages included in this section both articulate his viewpoint and suggest the
literary influences of the eighteenth-century novel. For although Hamilton's
actions hardly resemble those of Robert Lovelace, he does seem to admire the
literary escapades of Tom Jones, and where Hamilton seems to value beauty
over intelligence and independence, his preferences suggest a striking fit with
Trist's persona, a woman with both wit and a pleasing manner.
Hamilton may think that he is simply taking notes, but in his hands, the
travel narrative becomes a centerpiece for personal discourse with a distinctly
authoritative point of view. With his objective physician's eye and author's
speculative vision, Hamilton views these developments in the spirit of growth
and expansion. For Hamilton, the spectacle of colonial life is mostly a secular
pageant, one which provides him with rich material for his witty assessments.
The nature of Hamilton's examination allows him to imagine society within
his own preferences. In this way, the first-person narrative legitimizes indi-

Dr. Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth House Trist

69

vidual perspective and judgment; it is the claim of authority stemming from

his own critical intellect that stands out in Hamilton's text.
The Traveler's View: Trist's Perspective

Trist shares Hamilton's penetrating vision while advancing her own specu
lations on the future of the frontier. Inspired by thoughts of reunion and re
location, Trist expresses anxious hope as she ventures westward. Trist-the
explorer takes inventory of these new lands, and Trist-the-homesteader notes
crop production, weather conditions, and entertainment. Through the com
plex texture of her voice, Trist provides a literary opening of the frontier which
registers its potential and envisions a new life for herself, her husband, and
their son. This willingness to imagine change is mirrored in her own life,
which bridges colonial and postcolonial America.19
Prior to her j ourney, Trist's life was centered in a thriving Philadelphia
scene. During the revolutionary period, Trist's mother, Mary House, ran a
Philadelphia boardinghouse, located on the corner of Fifth and Market Streets,
which had become the gathering place for prominent members of the Virginia
delegation. It was here, in 1775, during the meeting of the Second Continen
tal Congress, that Elizabeth worked for her mother and became acquainted
with Thomas Jefferson, James Monroe, and James Madison, who were occa
sional boarders at the establishment between 1775 and 1791. 20 It was also
during this time that Elizabeth House met Nicholas Trist, when he was a
British officer stationed in Philadelphia during the war. 21 They married in
1 774, and shortly after the birth of their child, Hore Browse Trist, in 1775,
Nicholas Trist set off to find a settlement near Natchez where the new fam
ily could establish a home. War had made it too dangerous for Elizabeth Trist
and her son to j oin her husband immediately, so they stayed behind. With
the signing of peace treaties in 1783, it appeared safe enough for Elizabeth
Trist to travel, and so in late December 1783, she departs Philadelphia, with
out her son and accompanied by a small party, to begin an arduous westward
j ourney to the frontier settlement of Natchez?2
Given Trist's motivation to reach this destination, her narrative is con
cerned with the material and the pragmatic. She writes with an eye for re
moving impediments in her j ourney's progress and for creating a more com
fortable social and physical environment. On December 25, 1783, she records:
"The weather's moderated a little but very ruff roades" (Travel Diary 201 ) .
O n December 3 1, however, the snow i s s o deep that she rides with "Snow up
to the Horses bellies" (204) . Her vision broadens on January 9, 1784, as she
looks out upon the landscape while standing on Grants Hill overlooking the
town of Pittsburgh and remarks: "if the country which is mountanous was
cleard, it wou'd be beyond description beautifull. . . . and, was there good
Society, I shou'd be contented to end my days in the Western country" (213) .
Following Crevecoeur, Trist agrees that civilizing forces will enhance the fron-

70

Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

tier, and so she measures its value according to its ability to provide II good
Society" and to cultivate good crops: " The land is exceedingly rich and
abounds with an abundance of maple trees, from which they make quantitys
of suga r. . . . There are several wild vegetables that I would give the prefer
ence to those that are cultivated: Wild Asparagus, Indian Hemp, shepherd
sprouts, lambs quarters, &cc-besides great abundance of Ginsang, Gentian
and many other aromatick." She also takes inventory of mineral sources,
as here when she describes Cole Hill: "At one side it has been open'd to
supply the inhabitants with fue l . It is equeal [sic] in quallity to the
N ' castle or any other I ever saw" (212) . Trist appears optimistic. The land not
only bears food but also promises to yield necessary commodities for sustain
ing a community.
Like Hamilton before her, Trist is quick to impose her own standards. Trist's
allegiances to her home run deep, even when discussing fruit: "About 10 came
to a very pretty glade full of fine ripe plumbs. There are great quantitys of
them growing in this country, but I dont think they are as large as those that
grow in Pennsylvania" (228). Such comparisons lend subjectivity to her travel
narrative, which supports judgmental tendencies by encouraging compara
tive assessments. Trist has left the comparatively cosmopolitan atmosphere
of Philadelphia for this cumbersome trip down the Ohio and Mississippi Riv
ers, and she continues to hold city life as the standard by which she measures
the frontier world. Finding it wanting, she is anxious for change, yet she is
not flamboyant in her descriptions. The realistic, straightforward record of her
j ourney, in fact, contrasts an explorer's bravado that might exaggerate or ide
alize his or her findings. When she does speculate about the future, her pro
j ections are critically formed and based upon quantified observation as she
envisions the possibility of increasing town and community in the frontier
of the New Republic.
Following Trist's desire to transform the surrounding landscape into a
home, she writes with the confidence of a developer who views trees and
mountains as mutable obj ects destined for removal and renovation. The spirit
of the place is subsequently measured by its social potential, and Trist's reac
tions depend upon the prevailing circumstances. When travel is steady and
conditions are pleasant, her entries offer favorable reports. When either fac
tor is troublesome, Trist's record takes on a more anxious and, sometimes,
condescending tone. In either condition, the frontier is not glamorized.
These characteristics are especially true regarding her notes on housekeep
ing and entertainment. Trist remarks on January 3: " Our entertainment was
as good as if in a city" (Travel Diary 207). 23 Her comments range from being
" Hospitably entertaind" at Captain Simpson's House on December 26, 1783
(203), to passing a "bitter night" in a " miserable dirty place" on January 8,
1784, while staying on Mr. Eliott's farm (210) . Preferring cleanliness and
privacy, Trist seems to resist the realities of pioneer life and being sub
j ected to necessity. At times she is condescending, such as on January I,

Dr. Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth House Trist

71

while spending a night in a private house that only " consisted of two rooms,"
where "the private room was occupied by the Colonel, his lady and children."
Trist and her traveling companion, Polly, are made to spend the night in a
common room, "which serv'd as kitchen, cellar, and Hall, [and] had two dirty
beds." Unaccustomed to such conditions, Trist sleeps fully clothed in order,
as she explains, 1/ to keep my self from the dirt off the bed cloaths. Neither cou'd
I sleep for the crying of the children and the novelty of my situation" (205).
Everyday concerns are central to Trist's response to the frontier.
People and nature are subject to Trist's criticism. Entries concerning river
travel often reflect a traveler at odds with her physical environment: " [May
28] my mind was not at ease: the water of the river was every day decreas
ing, and I was under great anxiety least we should be detained till the Au
tumn" (220) . . [June 5] : liThe river is low which will lengthen our voyage
very much. We go but 30 mile in a day
" (220) . Her dissatisfaction with
accommodations is thus matched by her discomfort with the physical envi
ronment. Her sense that these factors rather than her attitude are capable of
alteration tells us that, for Trist, the first-person is more than j ust a point of
view; it is a statement of being.
Certainly, she is neither Jonathan Edwards, whose soul trembles and thrills
at the sound of God's thunder, nor Samuel Sewall, who wonders if the rain
bow is not indeed a sign of God's pleasure. For the most part, nature appears
as a purely physical phenomenon, and gone are Sewall's images of natural
marvels and Edwards's references to supernatural powers associated with
thunder and lightning. On January 6, 1 784, she records weather conditions
with more concern for travel than divinity: "Was waked in the Morning by a
pretty severe Thunder Storm and a very great fall of rain, which had melted
all the Snow and obliged us to proceed on our j ourney-tho the rain still
continued-for fear the creeks riseing shou'd detain us for several days . . "
(207) . When she writes about a June thunderstorm, Trist does note its power:
"The trees crack'd about us, and it thunder'd, lightned and rain'd as if heaven
and earth were coming together" (224); "This a Passionate sort of climate,
quickly raised but soon blows over" (228) . The storm excites her, yet she never
praises nature as a spiritual or romantic force. On May 20, 1784, for example,
she notes: "Three days rain has swell'd the rivers, and we have the flattering
appearance of a speedy voyage" (214) . On June 18, she finds her "patience is
allmost exausted. What with the Musquitos and head winds," which lead her
to admit that she is "allmost sick" (227) . Trist perhaps deserves our sympa
thy when she notes on June 6, 1 784, "After a disagreeable night tormented
with Gnats and Musquitos, we left our moorings at the dawn of day" (221 ) .
Instead of portraying nature i n a mystical fashion, therefore, Trist's relation
ship with her environment is primarily a pragmatic one.
In Trist's record of the changing natural environment, she also illustrates
the impact of travel and expansion. Such entries mark the rapidity with which
settlements are appearing and wildlife is disappearing. In the twenty years
.

72

Declaring th e Self in the Social Sphere

since the French and Indian War (1754-63), she observes that " [t] his coun
try, the last war, was the frontier" (203). On May 26, she files this report of
environmental impact when her party cannot find game after an hour's search,
suggesting an intrusive influx of traders and travelers: " [O]ur hunters return'd
without any game, which was a disappointment as we expected to have had
some fresh meat for dinner. There are such numbers of boats continually go
ing down the river that all the game have left the shore" (217) . Gone are the
images of the earlier promotional tracts of the seventeenth century with ex
aggerated visions of limitless game. Instead, Trist's record suggests a veritable
expressway of travel where humans are becoming the more plentiful species.
Trist's immediate concern here is with food, yet she also discloses an inevi
table result of human impact.
On June 15, Trist again notes the lack of game on what was supposed to
be "the best hunting ground any where on the river." This section concludes
with this report: "As our provisions are allmost ex' austed, tis agreed to lay
by for this day in hopes of killg some deer. The men returnd without even
having fired a gun" (226) . Confirming her earlier observation, the company
remains without fresh meat. Discouraged but not defeated, the crew is appar
ently unclear about what they are hunting for, as Trist notes on June 7, "our
people went on shore to hunt and kill'd a tame cow which they mistook for a
Buffaloe. However, it turned out very good Beef" (221). Assuming that this
is indeed buffalo country, this " mistake" further suggests that either the wild
life have sought refuge out of harm's way or that the Buffalo are endangered
even at this early date. Other possibilities here are that either these hunters
are a bit dim-witted in their initial mistaken identity of a cow for a buffalo
or that Trist is covering up for their poaching. From such incidents, Trist and
her crew project a commodified view upon the landscape and the wildlife as
potential products. The river is not a site for glorified adventure, but rather
the means to her domestic ends. For this 1784 traveler, there is still more land
that is wild than developed, and she sees tremendous opportunity for this
undeveloped landscape.
Trist's narrative emphasizes human imperative over appreciation for na
ture or environmental preservation, and the j ournal's observation mode sanc
tions such opinionated discussion. When travel appears obstructed, therefore,
Trist is displeased with nature, as in early January: " For my part, I felt
oppress'd with so much wood towering above me in every direction and such
a continuance of it. A little opening now and then, but a very confined Pros
pect: nothing but the Heavens above and the earth beneath, and a pretty spring
bubbling every here and there out of the side of a Hill" (213-14) . This op
pression is peculiar. Is she feeling overwhelmed by her j ourney ? The open
ings provide her some relief, but the prevailing mood is troubling. Trist is not
interested in experiencing the sublime in nature, as Hamilton does when he
describes the beautiful terror of the ocean. Instead, Trist feels "oppress'd, "
which suggests that she may not have been sufficiently distanced from the

Dr. Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth House Trist

73

terror of this potentially sublime landscape. Edmund Burke's 1757 Philosophi

cal Inquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and the Beautiful,
which falls in between the Hamilton and Trist narratives, identiBes sublime
sources as producing the " strongest emotion which the mind is capable of
feeling" (58). B urke also explains that without careful modulation of these
sources, "they are incapable of giving any delight, and are simply terrible; but
at certain distances, and with certain modiBcations, they may be, and they are
delightful, as we every day experiencen (59-60). Trist's reactions conBrm these
stipulations j ust as they signal the shifting attitudes toward nature. For Trist,
the individual determines the value of the landscape. Nature is praised for how
it can support human life rather than as a spiritual force.
Instead, Trist sees unyielding nature as an impediment to her j ourney's
objective. Consequently, the entire river is subject to her revisions: "I have
various Ideas about this river:-[I] some times conceit-I am got to the fag
end of the world; or rather that it is the last of Gods creation and the Seventh
day came before it was quite finnish'd. At other times, I fancy there has been
some great revolution in nature, and this great body of water has forced a
passage were [sic] it was not intended and tore up all before it" (Travel Diary
227). Violent images of revolution and destruction imply that she has entered
un sanctioned territory. Trist depicts nature as disturbing with mosquitoes
biting, rivers raging, and desolate landscape all around. Rather than conceiv
ing her surroundings as the handiwork of God's creation, Trist dismisses them
as unBnished. Yet her admission that " there has been some great revolution
in nature" suggests some admiration for the sheer physical power of nature.
These mixed responses may also reveal a deeper ambivalence about being
out on this grand river. She has not seen her husband for many years and has
traveled under harsh conditions leaving her friends and family behind, cir
cumstances which might certainly have contributed to her alternating fear
and awe. Trist's mood might suggest what Annette Kolodny marks as the
"essence of the pastoral paradox: man might, indeed, win mastery over the
landscape, but only at the cost of emotional and psychological separation from
it" (Lay 28). In one particular episode, Trist illustrates this complicated re
sponse to nature, wanting at once to admire it and also to contain and destroy
it. A " Bne Majestick looking bird" has been flying around her boat until: "One
of our people kill'd one and brought it on board the boat." Trist records its
measurements as "ten feet from the tip end of one wing to the other" and
notes that " the bill resembles white leather and expands in an extraordinary
manner." Her commentary then betrays her curious excitement: "I saw 14
quarts of water put into its mouth, and it wou'd have held more. I can not
comprehand what use they make of this amaizing pouch, unless to scoop up
the little Bsh. They are very harmless and so tame that they swim allmost in
reach of our oars" (Travel Diary 229) . Her admiration is oddly mixed here
with the admission that one of these "maj estick" birds was killed simply for
the opportunity for closer observation, as there is no mention of eating it. The

74

Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

subsequent measuring and manipulation of the bird further removes it as an

integral part of nature and marks it instead as a curiosity. These calculations
of wing span and bill capacity suggest a disturbing alienation from nature.
Kolodny finds Trist's " fascination" here indicative of the "waste and despo
liation that marked even the earliest years of frontier settlement" (" Intro
duction" 193). Trist's attitude serves as an unfortunate premonition of greater
environmental neglect to come. For, as Trist and her crew lack reverence for
the land and the wildlife, they appreciate them for what they are capable of
yielding for future homesteaders.
Trist's insecurity toward the j ourney itself may be the cause. When the
trip progresses as planned, her initial fears give way to a greater confidence
with frontier traveL Consider the contrast between her early and later entries.
The diary begins with Trist struggling with winter travel:
Upon the Summit of the Mountain, my saddle turn'd. It was with great diffi
culty I cou'd stick upon the Horse. . . . We suffered another inconvenience for
want of a breast plate to our saddles, for some places that we had to ascend where
[sic] allmost perpendicular, and our saddles slip'd so that we cou'd scarcely keep
our selves on by holding the main . . . (205). Indeed, this days journey has been
as dangerous as any we have gone through. The small runs as well as creeks were
all most impassible. The Horses were frequently near swimming . . . the roads
very bad. My Horse cou'd scarcely keep his feet. He fell with me once, but I was
so lucky as to keep my saddle. (208)

Even though she finds herself holding on for life in the wilds of this new land
scape, Trist rises to the challenge. It is only later, after spending several months
in Pittsburgh waiting for the weather to improve and the rivers to melt, that
she grows depressed and her passages become gloomier. But with spring and
the promise of renewed travel, Trist displays an increasing enthusiasm for
adventure. Not only are her comparisons with the city less frequent, but she
regrets having to endure the limitations imposed upon her as a female. Trist
maintains her primary concern with reaching her destination safely, but as
travel becomes easier, her appreciation broadens. In a springtime entry, Trist
even celebrates the beauties of nature: "I am allmost in extacy at the Mag
nificence of the display of nature. The trees are deck'd all in their gay attire,
and the earth in its richest verdure. So much for blooming May" (215-16).
This enthusiasm encourages one to speculate that if the j ourney itself had
ended differently, she may have more fully enjoyed the beauty surrounding
her. With the diary unfinished and the hoped for reunion with her husband
unrealized, Trist offers only a hint of her capacity to embrace the wilderness. 24
She was at least willing to experience the dangers of traveling through this
largely uncharted territory. Several times Trist expresses a greater desire to
explore her surroundings, but she is largely discouraged. For example, she
complains about not being able to see fossil remains: " The difficulty attend-

Dr. Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth House Trist

75

ing my getting there, for want of a guide and other obstacles, obliges me to
give up all thoughts of satisfying my curiossity" (217). Being protected from
danger often leaves Trist with a feeling of missing out, as on June 13: "Mr.
Bevird and two of the men went on shore in hopes to get a hunter. I was ea
ger to accompany them. I wish'd to see the fort because it bore the name of
my friend, but I was dissuaided from making the attempt as it was not cer
tain what Indians might be there" (225) . Trist is excited by the possibility of
seeing Fort Jefferson, but she has little cultural support for adventuring out
on her own. Nonetheless, her Travel Diary marks a transition in the percep
tion of the female traveler in American letters, as she is both courageous and
confident. Trist's j ournal, in turn, charts the shifting of the self as observer in
a landscape that finds the self, and neither divinity nor nature, at the center.
Just as she cannot entertain ideas of solitary communion with nature,
cultural premises prevent Trist from appreciating her encounters with the
Native Americans. Her general attitude is that the Native Americans, not her
party, are the intruders, and she is more anxious and curious than sincerely
interested. On May 23, she explains: "We pass'd an Indian camp in the night.
We cou'd hear them yell, but it was too dark for us to see them" (216). Na
tive Americans are nonetheless a formidable presence. When she meets former
members of the Delaware tribe and their chief, James Dickison, she describes
him as a "sensible fierce looking fellow, but his character is very bad. They
say he has plundered several boats and murdered many people that have been
going down this river" (222) . Trist seems caught in the dramatic lore of this
man which heightens the novelistic tone of her narrative. Despite her pre
conceptions, she writes, " My curiossity led me to visit them, as they had all
the appearance of friendship . . . . As it is good to have friends at court, I car
ried the Squaw some bread; and as her Infant was exposed to the sun, I gave
her my Hankerchief to shade it, for which she seem'd very thankfull" (222).
Her reference here to " friends at court" might imply some recognition that
Trist herself is indeed the intruder here, an implication, however, that Trist
neither acknowledges nor reinforces throughout the text. Another possibil
ity is that Trist is being deliberately ironic; in which case, she echoes
Hamilton's derogatory attitude.
Trist's discomfort recalls a connection that Leland Person makes in his
discussion of miscegenation in frontier fiction. He notes that because women
were generally excluded from "men's nature-culture," female novelists, such
as Lydia Child and Catherine Maria Sedgwick, present alternatives to the male
frontier fantasy (684) . One response is the frightened heroine, another the
strong-willed homesteader. Trist falls somewhere in between these types as
she struggles with social expectations of a female's response to the wilderness.
Although she is appalled by the crude living conditions, Trist's semi reverent
approach to Chief Dickison might suggest some potential for admiration,
however repressed. From her orientation, she only sees poverty where sim
plicity exists. Lacking understanding or compassion, Trist believes the trans-

76

Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

planted Americans to be the rightful inhabitants. Trist illustrates an attitude

that Cecelia Tichi identifies as "geography as destiny," a claim which will
become integral in the arguments for the Louisiana Purchase and which now
apply to Trist, who seems convinced of her right to these lands (85). Trist reg
isters this attitude on May 23: " There was a very pretty fort at this place, till
about 4 years ago. It was destroy'd by the savages . . . . We have not yet seen
any Indians, but tis thought dangerous to go on shore as they have been seen
lurking about this part of the river" (Travel Diary 216.) In her depictions of
the native peoples as " savages" who "lurk" about the river, she depends upon
the safety of the boat to shield her from the shore. While her fears may have
been justified by the still unstable treaties established between the natives and
the new government, her attitudes prevent unbiased reports of the Native
Americans.
In generaL Trist reacts more negatively than Hamilton to the wild forces
of nature and is, consequently, somewhat overwhelmed and unable to act.
Hamilton takes notice of a "wild and solitary" nature, bringing him to the
verge of transcendence. Where Trist imagines a future town surrounded by
nature, Hamilton finds the town perched above nature just as charming if not
the more inspiring. In this respect, Trist may represent the more "feminine"
desire for a garden within the wilderness illustrating Kolodny'S assertions that
"women claimed the frontiers as a potential sanctuary for an idealized do
mesticity" (Land B efore xiii) . From this perspective, Trist appears willing to
alter her environment to realize her fantasies, whereas Hamilton often ap
preciates the beauty before him in its natural state. Trist confronts a much
"cruder" landscape and appears the more aggressive pioneer as she envisions
and imagines the frontier as home, while Hamilton, who travels along more
established roads, seems more interested in embellishing what already exists.
The female adventurer is thus more directly involved with her surroundings.
Despite frustrations and dangers, Trist is confident that she can overcome
any obstacle. The forests and rivers are simply temporary barriers to her goal.
There is no clear sense of yielding to nature but rather a desire to transform
it.2s A once forbidden wilderness may soon become a potential homestead, a
cultivated garden, a plowed field, or a "pastoral dream of harmony," as Leo
Marx describes it, by striking a balance between " decadence and wilderness,
too much and too little civilization" (" Pastoralism" 38) . Although she might
appreciate the transformation, Trist is not seeking such a balance at this point.
Instead, Trist casts herself as a landlady speculating on her future properties.
One hundred eighty years after Jamestown, Trist looks upon the landscape
not with a visitor's innocence but with an owner's imagination as she confi
dently assumes the pose of a potential resident.26 Willing to express her fears,
Trist's narrative displays a vulnerability that Hamilton's lacks, and yet her con
viction appears stronger than his. In fact, Trist's briefer narrative tells the more
courageous story as the assumption of ownership inspires her to imagine "im
provements" and assert her faith in change.

Dr. Alexander Hamilton and Eliza beth House Trist

77

Audience and I ntention: The Trist-Jefferson Correspondence

Perhaps her proprietor's eye is somewhat influenced by having Thomas

Jefferson as an interested audience, for he was anxious to hear of potential
natural resources in this new territory. As previously noted, Trist and Jefferson
became acquainted in Philadelphia when he was a frequent boarder at her
mother's popular boardinghouse. Whether Jefferson is anticipating his own
explorations or expressing ongoing interests evidenced in his book Notes on
Th e State of Virginia ( 1784),27 he seems to encourage Trist's journey. Al
though, as Kolodny notes, it is not certain if Jefferson directly asked his friend
to gather information for him" ("Introduction" 186-87). Whether a direct or
implied request, Trist does record her impressions, and, to some extent, opens
his eyes to the frontier. We do know that Jefferson was generally supportive
of Trist's adventure; he writes from Annapolis on December 11, 1783, "I think
you will be a distinguished creditor if you pursue your wild Mississippi
scheme" (Boyd 6:383). Although Jefferson had written in an earlier letter to
suggest that she postpone her j ou rney for more favorable conditions,28 he
includes this kind wish in the December 11 letter: "I hope the day is near when
Mr. Trist's return will make amends for the crosses and disappointments you
complain of, and render the current of life as smooth and placid as you can
wish" (Boyd 6:383). In the spring of 1 784, when Trist and her small company
have had to wait out the winter while the rivers thaw and the roads clear, she
responds to Jefferson on April 8 in a long, detailed letter from Pittsburgh
wherein she recounts her journey through the Ohio Valley: "I have seen many
delightfull prospects from the H ills that surround the Town and yesterday I
cross'd the river to the Indian side, as its call'd, to see them making sugar which
is all the [y] use except Hunting. They seem to have the most delightfull soil
I ever saw" (Boyd 7:87) . Trist draws attention to the soil's potential and the
landscape's beauty in a manner that would have appealed to both Jefferson's
inquiries and her own homesteading interests.
These letters also mark the beginnings of a thirty-two-year correspondence
between Trist and Jefferson, who wrote to each other from 1783 to 1815. From
the eighteen surviving letters,29 their correspondence appears wide ranging:
they discuss family30 and friends, politics, and the frontier. They gossip and
they complain, and through their correspondence, we glimpse an opening of
the frontier, which for Jefferson represents expansion and for Trist promises
a new home.
Comparing the letters to Jefferson with parallel passages from her Travel
Dia ry uncovers differences in tone and emphasis. A travel narrative gener
ally tends to be more episodic while a letter might be more reflective or philo
sophicaL Although the male voice dominates the public document of the New
Republic, the female voice speaks through the more private venues of the
letter and the diary. These letters also chart Trist's attitudes toward the jour1/

78

Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

ney, expressing a similar initial hesitancy that gives way to a growing enthu
siasm. Before she leaves Philadelphia, she explains her concerns to Jefferson
on December 8, 1783: " It is a very great undertaking for me who has never
experienced any hardships to ride over the Mountains this season of the year.
I expect to suffer a little but this I am certain [sic] the fatigues of the Body
can not be worse than that of the mind which I have experienced in the
extreem" (Boyd 6 :376) . The physical hardships may distract her, but her mis
sion of reunion will overshadow the dangers of travel. As noted earlier,
Jefferson had written to Trist on December 22, 1 783, with reservations about
her winter departure. By the time the letter catches up with her in Pittsburgh,
Trist has a more realistic understanding of her undertaking. In her April 8,
1784, response, Trist explains that although she is "not naturally gloomy
minded," her present situation renders her incapable of "tranquillity" :
. . . there is a something which I can not express that hangs about me to embit
ter the sweets of my life. But why shou'd I trouble my friends with my
complainings. I can only plead in excuse that it [is] the greatest consolation I
have and I am convinced your goodness will not suffer you to ridicule female
nature. Tho an imbecility of mind is not altogether confined to our sex I must
acknowledge they have less firmness than yours. If I cou'd possess a little of your
Philosophy my happiness wou'd be within my reach, my mind wou'd be exalted
above those trifles that at present is the sourse of my disquiets. Dash-I am done,
I will change the subject. (Boyd 7:86)

The prolonged stay in Pittsburgh leaves Trist feeling displaced without her
familiar domestic world, and so she seeks stability through a new perspec
tive. While she thanks Jefferson for not ridiculing her female nature and then
recognizes that "imbecility of mind" is not gender specific, Trist cannot tran
scend the troublesome everyday trifles of traveL Jefferson not only appears
to be an empathetic audience, but Trist imagines that his philosophy can po
tentially exalt her by imbuing her with a larger sense of her journey, one that
would allow her to tolerate the " disquiets" of the present.
The Pittsburgh letters offer an important opportunity for reflection. Four
months into her j ourney, initial exuberance is now tempered, and Trist recog
nizes the strengths and limitations of her situation. In the following passage from
an April 13 letter, she checks her perceptions against Jefferson's: "Whatever ob
servations I am capabl [sic] of making I shall not fail to communicate to you but
when ever I see any thing out of the common way if they are beautifull pros
pects my sensations are very singular I believe for I can hardly suppress the tears
starting from my eyes and I am lost in wonder but a Philosophical mind like yours
can gather information from all you see, account for many that appear misterious
to vulgar minds and make observations as will benefit Mandkind in general"
(Boyd 7:97) . Apparently, observations that have a larger social value are supe
rior to more emotional responses to the environment, as she contrasts his "philo-

Dr. Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth House Trist

79

sophical mind" with her "vulgar" one. Trist thus displays a subjectivity by con
trasting and evaluating two different possible viewpoints-recognizing the va
lidity of each. Trist may not credit herself with a "philosophical eye," but she does
demonstrate a discerning perspective: [January 9, 1784] "The land is fertile and
capable of raising all kinds of grain. The timber is very large, and the shrubbery
pretty much the same as is produced in the bottoms" (Travel Diary 212-13).
Trist's domestic concerns blend here with a more empirical perspective regard
ing the local flora and crop yields. Although she finds her own powers wanting
in this letter, many journal entries show a more definitive state of mind with
explicit critiques of her lodgings and traveling conditions. Perhaps writing to
Jefferson evokes a more confessional voice, for in her journal Trist appears less
equivocaL
Trist's and Jefferson's friendship introduces questions about Trist's in
tended audience in the Travel Dia ry. Andrew Burstein notes that Trist was
Jefferson's " sensitive, good-hearted Philadelphia friend." Jefferson often
wrote to women (Trist, Abigail Adams, and Maria Cosway, among others) to
share his "fanciful notions," and Burstein conjectures that they might best
"understand outpourings of emotion" (65-66) . Trist was one of many friends
that Jefferson held dear, and the tenor of their correspondence suggests a
mutual concern for each other's welfare. So when Trist includes worries over
her modesty or expresses her fears, she may be either simply giving her friend
a well-rounded report or trying to elicit Jefferson's protective response. By
expressing such concerns, Trist's gentlewomanly persona stands as a comple
ment to Hamilton's gentlemanly pose. In trying to ascertain her audience in
the Travel Diary, one finds that Trist appears to be addressing an outside
audience, such as here on May 20, 1784: " In preparing for bed, I unfortunately
fell from my birth [sic] backwards; bruisd my head and shoulder and other
wise hurt myself sufficient to make me a little more carefull in future. How
ever, I got a pretty good nights rest . ," (2 14) . Whereas in other passages,
the tone and content suggest a private audience: " [June 15 , 1784] , . Every
one thinks their troubles the greatest, but I have seen so many poor crea
tures since I left home who's situation has been so wretched, that I shall begin
to consider my self as a favord child of fortune" (226) . Trist does engage an
outside point of view by such comparisons and references, and her Travel
Diary seems to acknowledge Jefferson, or at least Jeffersonian concerns. In
either case, the travel narrative is a semipublic document, which assumes that
even a small circle of family and friends might read it.31 More important, Trist
expands its scope by integrating personal reflections with observations about
her external environment.
In her Travel Diary, Trist's more public and more objective voice is most
evident in her dutiful rendering of times, places, and events, as on Decem
ber 27, 1783: "After breakfast we left Capt. Simpson and cross'd a very pretty
creek call'd Yellow Breeches. . , . The town much larger than I expected to see
at such a distance from navigation. , . , I was surprised on entering the town
,

80

Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

to see such fine buildings" (203 ) . Toward the end of her journey, she specu
lates on 'mineral reservoirs when she writes: "At dawn of day we left the shore
and soon came in sight of the Iron bank; a great quantity of ore may be picked
up on the surface of the earth. It is 1 6 miles from the Ohio, a fine high situ
ation. And I am told there is to be a town laid out here very soon" (225) . In
her more private concerns, where her audience is less clearly defined, Trist
grows confidential, such as in this entry on December 25: "Were obliged to
Sleep in the same room with Mr. Fowler and another man. Not being
accustom'd to such inconveniences, I slept but little" (201) . Again, if Jefferson
were her primary audience, her modesty might suggest that he plays the role
of the confidant. Her discomfort is echoed on January 3, when her genteel
standards are challenged when staying in a one-room log house that has
neither floor nor windows:
I made it a rule to get up before day light that I might not see anybody nor they
[see] me dress. It is customary for the Men and Women to sleep in the same
room that some of the Women look upon a Woman as affected that makes any
objection to it. One told me that I talk'd to upon the subject that she thought a
Woman must be very incecure [sic] in her self that was afraid to sleep in the
room with a strange man. For her part, she saw nothing indelicate in the mat
ter, and no man wou'd take a liberty with a woman unless he saw a disposition
in her to encourage him. (206-7)

Caught between conflicting moral codes, Trist self-consciously acknowledges

the woman's criticisms about her "incecurities," which not only challenge
Trist's proprieties but also casts her as a passive victim whose self-conscious
ness is perceived as a lack of confidence. Trist is clearly uncomfortable and
unwilling to forgo her own standards and imposes her personal code despite
the simplicity of the conditions. Whether or not she is writing to Jefferson
specifically here, these passage s show her deep discomfort with having to
compromise her values in order to get a good night's sleep. In the frontier,
privacy is a luxury, and Trist resists being subjected to necessity. Trist not only
goes against the expectations of her community but also reveals an even
deeper displeasure of her surroundings. Consistently, she would rather im
pose her standards than adapt to new ones. Even in such negative assertions,
however, the narrative provides Trist with a clearer sense of her preferences
and encourages her subjectivity, with all its own logic.
In her epistolary relationship with Jefferson, audience and content are
refigured if only slightly, for Trist shares intimacies which would have been
cqnsidered acceptable and in keeping with conventional expressions of friend
ship. If one speculates that Trist also intended for Jefferson to read her jour
nal, it seems that she is consistently willing to reveal an internal voice to her
audience and thus expresses fears and aspirations, j udgments and insecuri
ties. But more than j ust sharing details about her living quarters or the land-

Dr. Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth House Trist

81

scape, Trist seems, at times, to use Jefferson as a reference point for how to
view her experience, as she writes from Pittsburgh on April 13: "Cou'd I pos
sibly be so happy as to have your company, my jaunt down the River might
be enviable but in the present situation of affairs I dont expect much satis
faction till I arrive at my place of destination" (Boyd 7:97). The journey it
self is not enough to assure Trist's contentment, for community offers the
larger context for happiness. By comparing the letter to the journal, the former
seems to take on the latter's role as the vehicle for self-examination as it con
veys more of the confessional voice.
Her months of anticipation are unfortunately concluded in an anticlimax
that befits any novel. Days before her journey is to end, she discovers that
her husband had died in February while she was in Pittsburgh. And where
the Travel Diary breaks off, the continued correspondence to Jefferson from
the frontier conveys a profound sense of loss. On December 25, 1784, a year
after she had departed so hopefully, Trist writes to Jefferson from the Acadian
coast in Mississippi describing her situation and comparing it to one of his
earlier letters:32
I have been severely afflicted, and my situation peculiarly unfortunate. I received
the cruel stab when I least expected it. My mind was prepared for happiness, my
tedious j ourney allmost compleated, two days more I was certain wou'd reunite
me with my Dear Mr. Trist, when I received the dreadfull account of his being
no more. Tho in a strange country I experienced great kindness but I wanted
the consolation of my friends, and that has been denied me . . . . For however
strong the mind may be fortified, few are proof against the shock attending such
a seperation. (Boyd 7:583)

Although Trist feels abandoned and isolated, she tries to reconcile herself to
this "cruel stab," as the strength of her convictions are challenged by physi
cal and emotional hardships. Jefferson's earlier sufferings now act as a mir
ror for Trist's own pain as she responds both rationally and emotionally to
her husband's death. She affirms that place without the companionship of
family or friends is most desolate even as she writes about recovery. In her
admission to a "non-reasoned" imbalance and gratitude for God's grace in
restoring her, Trist's vulnerabilities are clearly expressed. Her life has been
dramatically altered, and this willingness to openly assess it suggests a move
ment toward healing and growth and a new manifestation of her internal
voice.
From this unfortunate turn, her writings redefine place as more than a
physical location where her dreams for community prosperity and family
happiness might manifest. Instead, the land becomes inconsequential as her
mood grows melancholic. On March 12, 1785, Trist writes to Jefferson, who
is now in Paris, that she has "experienced too much pain and anxiety allready
in this country and every hour presents something that reminds me of my

82

Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

misfortune" (Boyd 8:24) . The frontier has become desolate, for she has not
the spirit nor the inclination toward communion with nature alone. Clearly
unhappy about living in what she considers isolation, Trist's lack of an exter
nal audience heightens her need for an internal one, or, in Jefferson's case, a
confidant. As the letter continues, it underscores the importance of familiar
social contacts. The overwhelming message of this letter is that place with
out community is " most miserable," and she tells Jefferson: "I have no other
expectation of happiness but the company and conversation of my friends.
Here I am shut out from all intercourse with them. I was so long deprived of
the pleasure of hearing from them that I began to think My Self the most
miserable of all human beings, forgot by them all at a time when my wounded
mind required the aid of friendship to sooth and allay its painful perturba
tion. As gloomy Ideas are ever attendant on the wretched my real troubles
were constantly augmenting, by antisipating other Calamities" (Boyd 8 :2425). Unlike the adventurous tone of the Travel Diary, this letter's sorrow re
veals a "wounded mind" and offers a parallel to the physical dangers of her
trip, for Trist now suffers psychological traumas. By refusing to succumb com
pletely to her self-pity, she displays the strength that frontier life requires?3
Trist enlists subjectivity in its most therapeutic mode.
In these final letters to Jefferson from the frontier, the land is saturated
with grief. Trist cannot dislodge her painful associations and must, therefore,
leave. Only her friends can sooth and allay" her pain; the landscape, it seems,
cannot heal her. For Trist, the land is simply less alive. There is virtually no
physical description of her surroundings in these letters from Mississippi.
Instead, they focus on her psychological state and her desire to return to what
is familiar and nurturing. Without her friends, Trist fears that she will become
overwhelmed by her sorrows; her friends are an emotional anchor. And yet,
remembering her intentions to inform Jefferson of the land's potential, Trist
concludes this March 12, 1 785, letter with these assessments:
1/

I can not give you a very flattering discription of this country. It has been a bubble
from the beginning. The poor can live in it, but there are few rich and I fancy
tis the policy of the spanish government to keep people poor. The climate is not
disagreeable. I have seen full as good land in my country as any on this river
but I must conclude for I have not time to enter into a regular detail. You can
easily find out that I am not partial to It, but no country wou'd be agreeable to
me under the same circumstances that I have labourd under. (Boyd 8:26)

The land remains external to Trist, for she has neither the spirit nor the in
cliFlation toward communion with nature alone. She is not simply out for
adventure and cannot set the j ourney outside of any context that does not
include community. Instead, her connections to the country are contingent
upon her emotional state, which at present renders it bleak and lonely. Aware

Dr. Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth House Trist

83

of this emotional coloring, Trist withholds harsher judgment and acknowl

edges that she is incapable of appreciating the surrounding beauty.
The j ourney may have started with a specific destination and intention in
mind, but as the letters illustrate, Trist has had to alter her perspective and
her understanding about this trip several times. At this point, she appears
adrift from all that centers and defines he while still waiting passage from
Balize, Mississippi, to Philadelphia. Her boat has unfortunately been stranded
for sixteen days awaiting favorable winds. To keep her hopes up and to dis
tract her from the delays, she maintains her correspondence. On May 4, 1785,
she suddenly discovers that a nearby ship is headed for France, and so she
promptly runs to her cabin and dashes off a letter to Jefferson, a letter that
will hopefully arrive in Paris within the next six months. 34 The letter written
under these circumstances becomes part j ournal and part unanswered con
versation as it marks time either in abstract terms by addressing large philo
sophical issues or in specific images that provide the correspondent with a
glimpse of the writer's life. As if to apologize for any abruptness in her tone,
Trist explains: "So favorable an oppertunity induces me to take up my pen to
address a few lines to you, notwithstanding my situation is not the most
agreeable for such an undertaking. I am evelop'd [sic] with noise and confu
sion." One can almost hear the commotion and imagine Trist in cramped
quarters putting pen to paper as she elaborates on the difficulties of finding
p roper transport between the Acadian coast and her Philadelphia home since
Spain now controls the territory from which she is attempting passage. De
spite this animation, feelings of frustration dominate the following passage:
" I have no fault to find with the country or climate or inhabitants under any
other government, tho it has been the source of much sorrow to me. But a
Paradise wou'd not tempt me to be seperated any longer from My dear Mother
and child, since I am deprived of what cou'd only make me amends for the
loss of their society" (Boyd 8:136) . The lure of the frontier has vanished for
now, as Trist defines its value in terms of relationship. No longer interested
in merely passing on information, Trist's final letters from the frontier reveal
a mature voice, enriched through having ventured and lost. And as she at
tempts to bolster her spirits and fill the void left by absent friends and fam
ily, she is clearly in new territory, for Trist has little precedent to draw from
as a genteel woman out on the frontier. It is through her writings, therefore,
that we glimpse the frontier with the reluctance of a transplanted easterner
rather than the bold bragging of an explorer.
Recorded in both j ournal and letters, Trist offers one female's experience
of frontier life. The record itself is Trist's vehicle to exercise new habits of mind.
For like Hamilton, she assumes the role of a critical observer, one who is cer
tain of her own elevated standards. As Elizabeth House Trist looks down from
her saddle and out from her boat, she casts an inquisitive, critical eye and
imagines the future. She neither idealizes nor romanticizes the land's beauty;

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Declaring the Self in the Social Sphere

instead, she gathers data and quantifies the frontier, leaving information about
wildlife, rivers, mineral deposits, crops, towns, and inns. Unlike the promo
tional tracts of the seventeenth century and the Transcendental essays of the
nineteenth, Trist espouses an eighteenth-century preference for improving
upon nature by taming and reorganizing it. In searching for the garden, Trist
does not exaggerate or mythologize the wilderness. Along with Jefferson's
initial support, Trist combines the empiricism of travel literature with the
dramatic narrative of the novel and offers us a literary opening of the fron
tier that entertains the possibilities of future growth while cataloging the
immediate, everyday realities of frontier travel.
By the time of these narratives, the prospect of land ownership had been en
ticing migration to the New World for almost two hundred years. American
identity became closely connected to both work and land: Crevecoeur sings
the praises of the American farmer, Franklin champions industrious behav
ior, Jefferson infuses agrarian life with sacredness, and Bartram catalogs the
pleasures of the gentleman hunter. The grand vision, however, often neglects
the daily reality of traveling along country roads or transporting oneself to
the undeveloped expansiveness of the frontier. For this view, Dr. Alexander
Hamilton and Elizabeth House Trist have provided a more individuated lens
through which we can imagine this new world. In contrast to the spiritual
autobiographer, these travelers are more interested in the comforts of the next
inn or the safety of the next camp than in the transformations of their spiri
tual state. Their texts depart from the spiritual diary by giving us a record of
a physical journey distinguished by its external observations and its promo
tion of individual perception. The travel narrative is the genre of an expand
ing subjectivity that builds an awareness of difference, an awareness that is
greatly heightened by the sweeping momentum of Anglo-American mobil
ity. Travel perpetuates expansion, and the travel narrative marks its advance.
For both Hamilton and Trist, nature, social manners, Native Americans,
class, and gender are all seen as fit subj ects for both description and commen
tary. The assertions of their standards and tastes make their narratives a fo
rum for subjective declarations. Trist and Hamilton, for example, assume that
Anglo rights and ownership supersede Native Americans' rights. Although
James Fenimore Cooper may have set his novels in this time period, Trist and
Hamilton do not possess Natty Bumppo's appreciation of Native Americans'
ways.35 Instead, their attitudes represent their times, foreshadowing the fur
ther displacement of native peoples from their ancestral homes. They also
espouse prevailing eighteenth-century desires for order and control over
nature and praise individual perspective for its ability to measure and quan
tify natural surroundings. Their narratives thus offer a barometer in which
attitudes reinforce and prefigure social movement.
Hamilton and Trist anticipate real and fictional manifestations of travel
where the landscape will be dramatically altered by westward migration and

Dr. A lexander Hamilton and Elizabeth House Trist

85

wagon trains. In Hamilton's Itinerarium with its fictionlike text and carica
tures and Trist's Travel Diary with its criticisms and analysis, the travel nar
rative serves as a prototype for American fiction as experiences such as theirs
will later be fictionalized and romanticized by nineteenth-century novelists
such as James Fenimore Cooper and Catherine Maria Sedgwick.36 In sharing
the common thread of the episodic travel narrative, Hamilton proves the more
creative embellisher of his travels; Trist suggests future subject matter for
portraying the pioneer's life. These narratives signal the increase of subjec
tivity in first-person narratives. As narrators of their own stories, they orga
nize their experiences and assume some degree of control over how the ma
terial is presented. Marking the j ourney is justification enough for writing,
and through the Itinerarium and the Travel Diary, Hamilton and Trist con
struct themselves as travelers through the first-person narrative.