FLORIAN - The Most Traveled Man on Earth

Letter 9.
Pittsburg[h], Sunday, November 15, 1808
[From Jean-Baptiste Florian to his wife Marguerite; she is still in England]
I arrived last Tuesday, my dear Gogo, a bit tired, ________ but nevertheless much less
than I would have thought after the diabolical roads which we have traveled. It seems to
me that one can do anything when one makes the effort. I left Philadelphia Tuesday
morning, November 1, at 5 o’clock and ______ we spent the night at Lancaster, a
distance of 62 miles. <strong>The</strong> road was a bit rough but fairly pretty. <strong>The</strong> town is quite
attractive and contains 7 or 8 thousand inhabitants. <strong>The</strong> countryside [was] well cultivated
after Philadelphia and generally inhabited by persons of German origin. I left Lancaster
about 5 o’clock in the evening, by the mail coach that goes to Pittsburgh. We put up for
the night after 12 miles and the next day, Thursday, reached Chambersburg, a town
situated 75 miles from Lancaster and about halfway between Philadelphia and Pittsburg.
Up to this point the road is nice enough and as you can see, one goes as fast as on the
ordinary roads of Europe. But the scenery begins to change soon. Friday we took to the
road again between three and four o’clock in the morning, as one does all the time on this
coach, and from the break of day we commenced to climb the first chain of mountains
(there are three which one crosses in succession) – Sideling Hills, whose slopes are cut
off at the foot and the heights a rooster’s comb. We made about 30 or 40 miles that day
without stopping for dinner. <strong>The</strong> mountains are covered with oaks, with chestnuts, and
pines from which they extract much resin (tar). <strong>The</strong> floor of the forests is covered with
mountain laurel with large leaves.
<strong>The</strong> next day, Saturday, we crossed the Alleghany Mountains, where the ground rises in
gentle contours. One climbs and goes down almost without noticing that they are
covered in snow. <strong>The</strong>y tell us that it snowed this past September and that ordinarily ice
would remain until the month of June. That may be, but I know from experience that on
November 5 the sun was hot on our heads, the atmosphere full of wisps of clouds in the
valleys and even a few degrees above the horizon, the air very mild and the heat such that
we could not bear to keep on our jackets in the coach, open on every side. Sunday
(November 6) we rested all day at Somerset-town, and Monday we crossed the third
chain of mountains, called Laurel Hill. In the Alleghanies, rhododendron replaces
mountain laurel. Here azaleas, wild roses and spindle trees [le fasain a bonnet de
pretres] are found in abundance. <strong>The</strong> ground is soft, and the ruts so deep that the roads
are even worse than among the rocks of the Sideling Hills.
Sleeping accommodations on the road are pretty bad [p 2], but one lives well. For
breakfast and supper one has grilled beef, venison, chicken, turkey, pheasant, partridge
roasted over the grill, excellent griddle cakes of dark buckwheat flour, very white bread,
honey, apples and raisins cooked in their juice, good butter, cream and excellent coffee.
Very good cider, Madeira wine, and strong liquors. But be it because of economy or
because of sobriety, it seems to me that they resort very little to drink while traveling.
<strong>The</strong> expense, after all, is not extraordinary. One can count on spending from one piaster
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