winter season, it may be presumed that there are beds of salt at the
bottom of this body of water, which neutralize, in some measure, the
elements of frost, as they descend beneath the surface. There are
numerous salt springs on both sides of the Lake, and in its immediate
vicinity.
Further: there is reason to believe, that there are warm springs in the
bed of this lake. In the vicinity of it, on the Canada side, hunters
frequently meet with spots of ground, about two or three acres in
extent, the surface of which is, in the winter, entirely free from snow;
and yet these spots are surrounded with snow to the depth of six or
eight feet. Upon these places the snow, when it falls, instantly {67}
melts, both that which falls upon the ground, and upon the trees.
I may add, that there are in several parts of N. America, particularly
in the Missouri Territory, springs, the heat of which is about one
hundred and fifty degrees. Such springs may exist in the bed of Lake
Ontario, and if so, they would go far to prevent the influence of frost.
Whilst at Fort Niagara, several little anecdotes occurred which,
perhaps, are not worth mentioning; they may, however, afford a momentary
interest, and thereby reward me for exposing myself to the imputation of
egotism and vanity.
When I arrived at the Fort, I was much weather-beaten; and, according to
the sea-phrase, it was high time for me to put into some harbor and
repair damages. Just before reaching this post, I understood that
Colonel Pinkney commanded there; and notwithstanding the roughness of my
appearance, I wished to become acquainted with him.
I have always thought it both proper and politic for a gentleman, in a
strange place, if he makes himself known at all, to introduce himself to
men of the first consideration; and after this step, to leave them to
take the lead in every thing respecting their cultivation of his
acquaintance. Under such circumstances, if the persons to whom he
introduces himself are gentlemen, he will be treated well, and they will
consider his confidence in them a compliment; but if they should not
treat him with due respect and attention, he may well pride himself in
his superiority, and pity their false views of true greatness.
Upon entering the Fort, I met an Irish soldier, who seemed to possess
all the characteristic hospitality and friendship of his countrymen. He,
by my request, very readily conducted me to the Colonel’s {68} quarters;
and, no doubt taking me for a man of his own cloth, said: “_in farth ye
shall want for nothing hare; I can geve ye a good bade_,” &c. I
repeatedly thanked the honest fellow, and excused myself by saying that
I should stop only an hour.
At the Colonel’s quarters, I requested his waiter to inform him, that a
stranger wished for the privilege of introducing himself. The waiter,
being a spruce lad of seventeen, no doubt thought much better of himself
than of me: it being not easy for one in common life, and of but little
experience, to perceive a gentleman under so rough a garb as was mine.
The servant probably represented me to the colonel as being either an
Indian, or some old hunter from the Canada shore. The first idea might
well exist: as, having travelled many days in the eye of a high wind, my
complexion had become very dark. But, however this may have been, the
servant returned with an answer, which rather moved my yankee spirit:
the colonel wished to know whether I could not inform him, through the
waiter, of what I wanted. I replied, emphatically, no; and added, tell
colonel Pinkney again, that a stranger wishes for the _privilege_ of
introducing himself.
Before the servant’s return, the Irishman had obtained a brother Pad to
come and see the man in fur. After staring at me for a minute, the
new-comer said—“_sare, ar ye last?_” I looked at him with a steady
aspect, and replied, emphatically, lost?—lost? The fellow dropped his
eyes and drew back, his comrade, at the same time, declaring, in true
Irish lingo, “_by St. Patrick, ye’d batre mind what ye’re about!—that
mon has got more sanse in his latle fanger than we’ve in both of oure
hades._” This unexpected compliment was no less gratifying to my vanity
than contributive to my amusement.
In a moment after, the colonel’s waiter returned; {69} and, in rather a
surly manner, said, “you may go in now.” I approached the parlour door,
which was nearly shut; and here placing myself upon its threshold, and
gently pushing the door fully open, I made my bow—; at the same time
taking off my cap, and bringing my rifle to an order. Whilst in this
situation, I said, Sir, I have the misfortune to be an entire stranger
to you; but I have taken the liberty to introduce myself. The colonel
received and entertained me in a very liberal and polite manner; and
even invited me to sojourn with him for some days. Having, however,
conversed with him, upon a variety of topics, for about a half hour, I
arose, told him my name, place of residence, destination, &c. and bade
him farewell.
Opposite to Fort Niagara, on the Canada side of the river, is the town
of Newark. It is a considerable settlement, and contains some handsome
buildings. Just above this place on the same side of the Niagara, is
situated Fort George.[67] From Lewistown to Lake Ontario the river
Niagara may well be termed beautiful: it is about one third of a mile
wide, is deep enough to float the largest ships, and its current moves
silently about three miles an hour. The banks of the river present a
pleasant appearance; and the Heights of Queenstown afford an interesting
view of the adjacent country. The distance from Lewistown to fort
Niagara is about seven miles. Above the latter are the famous five-mile
meadows.[68] They are very small; but little objects become great when
connected with great events; and, upon the same principle, little men
create for themselves temples of fame, which the weight of a fly might
crush.
Upon leaving the fort I proceeded back to Lewistown; and, after dark,
pursued my way towards Niagara Falls. Sometimes, when not near any
habitation, {70} I travelled from daylight to twelve o’clock at night.
My object in taking this course, was, so to shorten the nights, as to
render my situation during them more secure, and less uncomfortable. So
heavy, frequently, was the travelling, that with great exertion I could
not, during this period, progress more than twenty miles. During my walk
from the fort, along the bank of the river, I reflected upon the battle
of Queenstown, the subsequent devastations of the enemy upon this part
of our inland frontier, and the impolicy of our so generally employing
militia. The next day I made a minute of my ideas upon the subject, and
now introduce them with some additions. I am aware, however, that in
taking this step, I shall oppose a national prejudice; but I do it
because, however much a man may wish for the good opinion of his
fellow-citizens, he ought to regard the interests of his country more.
In everything excepting in the too general employment of militia, our
government has, in a greater or less degree, profited by experience. But
in this particular, we seem to have been unduly influenced by our too
general idea of a standing army:—an idea which at once calls forth ten
thousand vague apprehensions, and condemns, without the ceremony of a
hearing, every suggestion of reason. We are not children; and it is high
time to put aside bug-bears. Our prejudices against standing armies are
natural, and, in some respects, salutary; but in fleeing from the water,
let us not run into the fire. Fact is sometimes less unpleasant than
apprehension. Are we ignorant, that we have already, always have had,
and always shall have a standing army? By a standing army, I mean a
force raised for a permanent purpose, and having no exclusive relation
to a state of war. Such a force, under the existing disposition of man,
is essential to the security of every {71} government, however peaceful
may be its policy. The only question upon this subject, is,—how large
our regular army ought to be? Here we are to guard against many evils,
which might proceed from either extreme:—from a very large, or a very
small standing army.
By a very large standing army, the counsels of the nation might be too
much influenced by the private interest and feelings of military men;
unpatriotic ambition might employ this force to the worst of purposes;
its maintenance would be inconsistent with rational economy; and an
unnecessary part of our population would, comparatively, be kept in
idleness.
But, both security and true economy require, that we should have an
established, permanent, and well organized force, sufficiently numerous,
and ready at a moment’s warning to meet, with success, the invaders of
our land; or to reduce, with promptitude, our Indian enemies. These are
the first objects of such an establishment; the others are,—to furnish a
national standard of military tactics; to make, in a short time, real
soldiers of our militia, when a sudden necessity for a great army shall
call them into actual service; and lastly, by mingling both kinds of
force, to afford the militia support and confidence in the hour of
battle.
As to our militia, they should be instructed for the sole purpose of
enabling them more effectually to defend their own fire-sides, and of
furnishing a nursery for the ranks of our regular army, whenever
enlistments into them shall be necessary. Courageous as our militia are,
they are not, generally speaking, an efficient force; and by employing
them as a substitute for regular troops, we unnecessarily increase
expence, sacrifice valuable lives, and expose at once, the safety and
the reputation of the country.
{72} I have a very high opinion of the courage of my countrymen; but
courage without discipline always, excepting in cases of bad conduct on
the part of the enemy, results in general confusion, and individual
sacrifice. By employing militia in actual service, we throw away the
best and most productive part of our population. If the nation could see
the dreadful aggregate of our militia, who have fallen victims to the
dangers and diseases of the camp, merely because they were militia,
there would be a general mourning; and the nation would forever abandon,
in relation to this subject, its present policy. It is a system dictated
by false ideas of economy, by a too general eulogy of our militia, and
by groundless fears with respect to a regular force.
Our militia have, at times, performed wonders; but they have likewise
often been the cause of defeat and disgrace.
We ought not unnecessarily to employ militia in actual service. To do so
is to be careless of our population; and our population is our wealth.
Great-Britain cannot support her subjects; she may well, therefore,
sacrifice them in unnecessary wars. Her territory is comparatively
small; whilst ours is almost unlimited. None of our citizens should be
sent into the field of battle without the confidence and conduct, which
discipline gives. Our militia, as I have said before, are the most
valuable and productive part of our population; and they are sent into
the field under the most unfavourable circumstances. Many of them have
never slept a night from under their maternal roof. They have heard
their fathers speak of other times, and their youthful hearts pant for
the service of their country; but when the novelties of the camp, the
music and the parade of military life cease to inspire them, they lose,
for a time, much of their enterprise {73} and spirit. This very
circumstance disposes them to disease; and this very circumstance tends
to render disease fatal. They are entirely unaccustomed to the habits
and employments of a camp; and their health is greatly exposed, by means
of the number of troops collected, by being encamped in insalubrious
situations, and by modes of living, to which they are entirely
unaccustomed. In a time of peace, new recruits may be located in small
numbers, in healthy situations, and the habits of the raw soldier be
gradually changed.
But a militia force is not efficient. Discipline is, generally speaking,
absolutely necessary to success. It produces in battle a sense of
general, and in some measure of individual security. The soldier in an
engagement knows, that he must take his chance, and he is willing to
take it; but it is because he has a confidence in the general security
of the army, that he stands his ground: for let him know that there will
be a rout of his party, and he will at once become sensible of the
_extraordinary_ risque which he must run, and will endeavour to save
himself by flight. In proportion to the discipline of an army will be
the general and individual confidence of the troops. Besides, there is a
great difference between individual and general courage. Individual
courage is less common than is supposed. A party of men may fight pretty
well in company, when, as individuals, they would, under similar
circumstances, act a cowardly part; it is a sense of mutual support,
which checks their fears, and furnishes them with confidence.
Where there is discipline,—where every individual feels that he is
supported by all the rest,—this gives him confidence; and confidence is
force.
Among militia the cowardice of a few will disorganize the whole; and
when broken and hard pushed, {74} it is impossible for them to rally.
But regular troops, when broken, can, in ordinary cases, readily form
again; and, although their ranks may be thinned by the fire of the
enemy, they are immediately filled, order is maintained, the army,
though reduced, is still an army; and, although overpowered, they fight,
not like a rabble, but like true soldiers. Their manouvres too, upon
which the result of an engagement much depends, are performed promptly,
and in order. Indeed, a soldier, in a well disciplined army, is a mere
machine; he is a part of a perfect whole, has no will of his own, and
moves only by the direction of his commanders. Had our force, at the
attack upon the city of Washington, been of such a class, what a
glorious defence would have been made![69] They would have planted
themselves before it, and in the name of every thing dear, and sacred,
and terrible, would have resisted its unprincipled invaders.
Our militia, as has been observed, sometimes perform wonders; but these
are exceptions to a general rule; and exceptions are a poor ground for
the establishment of a general principle. In a pell-mell contest,
militia will fight with effect, because the mode of fighting is, on both
sides, of the same kind. Here our militia would prevail over that of any
other nation. And were our troops always well disciplined, they would
always, excepting in cases of accident, overcome the regular troops
opposed to them. These effects would arise from the people of this
country possessing more animal vigour, and more moral force than any
other people.
Our militia may soon be made good soldiers, because they are
intelligent, and have already received some military instruction. I
speak of them in comparison with the militia of other countries. Much
discipline, and the scenes and avocations of the {75} camp should be
familiar to soldiers, before they are brought into the field. By
teaching them their first lessons, at the point of the bayonet, immense
sacrifices are made, both of reputation and of blood.
The expence too of maintaining a militia force, is much greater than
that of supporting a regular army. The former must be more numerous than
the latter; and, of course, their wages and provisions must amount to
more.
Our military establishment should, to say the least, be sufficiently
large to enable us to move, whenever necessary, a well organized, well
disciplined, and efficient force against our savage neighbours. Such a
kind of force is the only proper one to meet the fatigues and dangers of
Indian warfare. It is time for the nation to be heart-sick of
inefficient military efforts, defeat and massacre. The Indians may be
conquered; but the genius of a Jackson, thousands of Tennesseeans, much
time, and a vast expence should not, in this country, be requisite to
overthrow a few hundred Seminoles.[70] A well organized, and well
appointed force of one thousand men could effect such an object in
thirty days after leaving the proper place of rendezvous.—I say one
thousand men, because a large force is more decidedly efficient than a
small one. Militia, under ordinary circumstances, are put into the
utmost confusion by the whoop, and yell, and onset, of Indians; and then
a total butchery of them ensues. But let a regular force be employed,
and order and firmness will resist the most furious, and unexpected
attack; and the next moment they will march on to victory. Our
celebrated fourth regiment at the battle of Tippecanoe proves this
position.[71] But for them, this engagement would have resulted like
those of Braddock and St. Clair.
The honour and the safety of the nation, demand {76} an ample and well
organized military establishment. With the love of liberty, and every
other circumstance in our favour, we have often, by only an equal force,
been defeated; and this effect arose from our want of discipline. The
nation must have such a force as can be depended upon:—such a force as
will fear a departure from discipline more than the bayonet of the
enemy. Such a force can be obtained only by offering to our best
population, both officers and soldiers, such compensation and advantages
as will, not only induce them to engage in the service of their country,
but such as will be in themselves so fully adequate, as to render the
service respectable. A considerable part of the expence of such an
establishment, might be defrayed by employing the troops in making
roads, and in other internal improvements. This business would keep them
from idleness, inure them to labour, and render them acquainted with
those implements, which are employed in pioneering, and in
fortification.
The present administration are, no doubt, disposed to promote the
respectability and safety of the nation; and the opposition have always
been in favour of a considerable military and naval establishment. The
experience gained by our last contest with Great-Britain cost us much;
and it ought not to be forgotten. Both political parties in this country
agree, that in peace we ought to be prepared for war. That I do,
however, consider war between nations, seldom necessary, and a practice
which places human nature upon the most humiliating ground, will fully
appear when I reach, in the course of my tour, those fields of carnage
which forcibly speak to the lone traveller.
The rapids of the river Niagara commence at a little distance above the
celebrated falls, and terminate near the narrows opposite to Lewiston.
Between {77} these two places the distance is about seven miles.
That I might have a full view of the scenery in the vicinity of the
falls, I travelled, during the evening of my leaving Fort Niagara, only
two miles beyond Lewistown. Early the next morning I moved on, glowing
with anticipation. The lofty and rude banks of this part of the river,
the deafening clamour of the falls, and the huge clouds of vapour which
arose from them, inspired me with a new and indescribable emotion. The
day too was dark, windy, and wild. Yet the sun shone bright;—but the
darkness did not comprehend it.
Owing, perhaps, to the excitement occasioned by these circumstances, I
expected too much. I confess that I was disappointed, both with respect
to the height of the falls, and the quantity of water propelled over
them in a given time. There is, however, in their eternal roar, a
nameless solitude. For ages this roar has been ceaseless; and it seems
to speak of perpetual duration.
The rapids just above the falls, excited much interest. Dark, furious,
and perplexed, they rush on as though eager for destruction. Here the
imagination suddenly becomes aroused, and with a sombre, yet vivid
glance, surveys the opposite, and renowned plains of Chippewa and
Bridgewater;[72]—then returning to the rapids, it hears, in the voice of
their fury, the half-drowned vow of the warrior, and sees, in their
mist, his falling steed, and brandished falchion. The trees near the
falls were all prostrated by the weight of congealed vapour; and seemed
to worship, most devoutly, the Great Author of this grand spectacle. A
lovely, yet fearful rainbow, arched the river below; and numerous gulls,
were obscurely seen sailing through the thick exhalations which filled
the whole space to {78} the Canada side.—Charon and his boat only were
wanted to complete the scene.
How impressive is the grand in nature! It withdraws the human mind from
the trifling concerns of time, and points it to its primeval dignity,
and lofty destinies.
There are three divisions of the falls; and they are occasioned by two
islands situated in the river. The whole describes a crescent. One of
the islands is about four hundred yards wide, and the other about ten
yards. Perhaps the whole width of the islands and falls, including the
curvatures of the latter, is three quarters of a mile. The height of the
principal falls is about one hundred and fifty feet; and the descent of
the rapids, above the largest of them, is about sixty feet. One can
hardly avoid personifying this rush of water; meeting, as it does, huge
rocks and trees lying in every direction, and seeking, with a wild and
furious velocity, a passage to the falls. Breaking and foaming, the
rapids take a thousand courses, and with a restive spirit, seek the
abyss below. The obstructions of the rapids appear to dispute their
passage; and the whole scene is fury, uproar and destruction. The
vapour, arising from the rapids, adds to the sublimity of the scene, by
the obscurity with which it clothes their tremendous concussions.
The icicles, pending from the sides of the banks contiguous to the
falls, are, in the winter season, so tinged with the sulphurious
particles which are mingled with their strata, as to present, when
stricken by the rays of the sun, a scintillating and bluish glare.
A more particular account of the falls is deemed unimportant. I have
endeavoured to give such a description as comported with my ideas and
feelings, whilst in view of them. These falls are, no doubt, a great
natural curiosity; and they will excite in all {79} much admiration and
awe. But many of the descriptions which travellers have given of them,
are erroneous in point of fact, and ridiculous in point of imagery. An
English writer says, that their “noise and vapour would scarcely be
equalled by the simultaneous report and smoke of a thousand cannon.” It
is true, that the roar of the falls can at times be heard for thirty
miles, or perhaps further; and that their exhalations have been seen at
the distance of ninety miles; but these circumstances exist only under
peculiar states of the atmosphere, and the causes of them produce, upon
the spot, a much less comparative effect. The falls, however, are indeed
tremendous; and they constitute the only visible discharge of four vast
inland seas.