advanced toward the head of Lake George. On the first intimation of his
approach, a council of war was called by Colonel Johnson, and it was
determined that a party should go out to meet him. The number of men
fixed upon was mentioned by Johnson to Hendrick. The Sachem replied, “If
they are to fight, they are too few; if they are to be killed, they are
too many.” The number was accordingly increased. General Johnson, also,
proposed to divide them into three parties. Hendrick took three sticks,
and putting them together, said to him, “Put these together, and you
cannot break them; take them one by one, and you will break them
easily.” The hint succeeded, and Hendrick’s sticks probably saved the
whole army from destruction.
The detached party consisted of twelve hundred, commanded by Colonel
Williams. He met the enemy about four miles from Lake George. Dieskau
had been informed of his approach by scouts, and arranged his men on
both sides of the road in a half-moon, to receive him. The whole country
was a forest, and Williams impetuously marched directly into the hollow.
At the same instant, a tremendous fire was opened on him in front, and
on both his flanks; and Johnson and Hendrick fell among the heaps of the
slain, the latter displaying the highest courage and valour. His death
was embittered by the disgrace of receiving the mortal wound in his
back, and his last breath was spent in lamenting it.
The overpowered detachment fell back in good order upon the
entrenchments, and the enemy advanced to the position of General
Johnson, which was upon the shore of Lake George. They began the
engagement by firing in platoons upon the centre, but did little injury.
After an hour or two of manœuvering and skirmishing, the English leaped
over their breast-works, and charged upon the enemy. They broke, and
fled in every direction; and Dieskau was found by a soldier, resting on
a stump, with scarcely an attendant. As he was feeling for his watch to
give it to the soldier, the man, thinking he was feeling for a pistol,
discharged his musket through his hips. He was carried into camp in a
blanket by eight men, with the greatest care and tenderness, but in
extreme agony. For some reason or other, the flying enemy was not
pursued, and few were taken prisoners. They had fought with great
bravery, and had kept the field till one-third of their number was cut
down—a thousand being left dead on the field.
On their retreat, the French army was met by a party of provincial
militia, amounting in all to a hundred and fifty men. With the loss of
only six men, (among whom was the second in command, Captain M’Ginnes,)
this small body of men succeeded in driving the French from their
ground, and possessing themselves of all the ammunition and baggage of
the flying army. His Majesty was so well pleased with the result of this
battle, that he created General Johnson a baronet, and Parliament voted
him a present of 5000_l._
The Sachem Hendrick had lived a life of unsullied bravery, and died
fighting gallantly. He was at this time from sixty to seventy years of
age. His head was covered with white locks, and, what is uncommon among
Indians, he was corpulent. Immediately before the march, he mounted a
rock and addressed his people. He had a voice of great depth and power,
and could be heard distinctly half a mile. His eloquence is represented
as fiery and impressive to a degree, unusual even among this nation of
orators. It is said, that when his death was announced to his son, the
young chief gave a single groan; but immediately recovered himself, and
striking his hand on his breast, rose with great dignity and said, his
father was still alive in his son’s bosom.
Dieskau was conveyed from Albany to New York, and thence to England,
where he soon after died.
[Illustration]
SCHUYLKILL WATER-WORKS, AT PHILADELPHIA.
* * * * *
The Water-works of Philadelphia rank among the most noble public
undertakings of the world. The paucity of water in the city first set to
work the sagacious mind of Dr. Franklin, who, by will, bequeathed a
portion of a long accumulated legacy to bring a greater supply of this
necessary element from Wissahiccon Creek. This was found, after a while,
to be insufficient; and a plan was proposed, and carried into operation,
to form a reservoir on the east bank of the Schuylkill, from which water
was to be thrown by a steam-engine into a tunnel, conveyed to a central
position, and raised by a second engine to a higher reservoir, which
supplied all the pipes in the city. An experience of ten years satisfied
the corporation that a sufficient supply could not be obtained by this
method. The steam-engines were liable to frequent accidents, and the
derangement of one stopped the supply of the whole city. After several
other futile experiments, the present extensive yet simple water-works
were proposed, and three hundred and fifty thousand dollars voted at
once by the city corporation for the commencement of the undertaking.
The Schuylkill opposite Philadelphia, is about nine hundred feet in
breadth. It is subject to sudden _freshets_, (an American word, unknown
in this use in England, and meaning an overflow of a river current,) but
its average depth is thirty feet at high water. It was necessary to back
the river up about six miles; and a dam was then created by cribs and
masonry, running diagonally across, with several ingenious contrivances
to prevent damage by ice and spring freshets. A overfall of one thousand
two hundred and four feet, forming a beautiful feature of the scenery,
is thus created, and a water-power upon the wheels sufficient to raise
eleven millions of gallons in twenty-four hours. The reservoirs,
elevated above the top of the highest house in the city, crown the
ornamental hill which overhangs the river at this place; and water can
thus be conveyed to every quarter of Philadelphia, and made to spring,
as if by a magic touch, in the highest chamber of the inhabitant. It is
of a deliciously soft and pleasant quality; and those who are habituated
to wash in the “city of brotherly love,” are spoiled for the less
agreeable lavations afforded by other towns in America.
Fair Mount is a beautiful spot; and standing, as it does, just on the
skirt of the town, it serves the additional use of a place of pleasant
and healthful public resort. The buildings containing the pump-rooms
have considerable pretensions to architecture; and the _façades_ and
galleries extend along the river, forming a showy object from every
point of view, but from the absence of any grand design in the whole,
failing of a general fine effect, and presenting what a Londoner would
call rather a teagardenish appearance. Steps and terraces conduct to the
reservoirs, and thence the view over the ornamented grounds of the
country seats opposite, and of a very picturesque and uneven country
beyond, is exceedingly attractive. Below, the court of the principal
building is laid out with gravel walks, and ornamented with fountains
and flowering trees; and within the edifice there is a public
drawing-room, of neat design and furniture; while in another wing are
elegant refreshment-rooms—and, in short, all the appliances and means
of a place of public amusement.
It may as well be remarked here, that this last advantage is less
improved in America than it would be in any other country. The
Water-works of Fair Mount, though within fifteen minutes’ walk of every
citizen’s dwelling in Philadelphia, are (comparatively to its
capacities) unfrequented. In several visits made to them in fine
weather, we scarce saw more than three or four persons in the grounds;
and those seemed looking for other company, more than enjoying the
refreshing fountains and lovely prospects around them. As a people, we
have no habit of amusement in America. Business and repose are the only
two states of existence we know. How far Europeans have the better of us
in this respect—how much our morals improve, or our health suffers,
from the distaste for places of public relaxation and resort, are
questions the political economists have not yet condescended to settle.
[Illustration]
VIEW OF THE UNITED STATES BANK,
PHILADELPHIA.
* * * * *
This is one of those chaste and beautiful buildings which have given the
public architecture of Philadelphia a superiority over that of every
other city of our country. It needs but that its fair marble should be
weather-fretted and stained, to express perfectly to the eye the model
of one of the most graceful temples of antiquity. The severe simplicity
of taste which breathes through this Greek model, however, is not
adapted to private buildings; and in a certain kind of simplicity, or
rather of want of ornament, lies the fault found by every eye in the
domestic architecture of this city. The chess-board regularity of the
streets, so embarrassing to a stranger, as well as tiresome to the gaze,
require a more varied, if not a more ornate style. The hundreds of
houses that resemble each other in every distinguishable particular,
occasion a bewilderment and fatigue to the unaccustomed eye, which a
citizen of Philadelphia can scarcely comprehend.
The uniformity and plainness which William Penn has bequeathed in such
an abiding legacy to Philadelphia, however, is seen but by a faint
_penumbra_ in the dress of the inhabitants, or in their equipages, style
of living, and costliness of furniture and entertainment. A faint shadow
of original simplicity there still certainly exists, visible through all
the departures from the spirit of Quakerism; and it is a leaven of taste
and elegance in the ferment of luxury which has given Philadelphia
emphatically a character for refinement. A more delightful temper and
tone of society, a more enjoyable state of the exercise and mode of
hospitality, or a more comfortable metropolis to live in, certainly does
not exist this side the water. A European would prefer Philadelphia to
every other residence in the United States.
Is it possible to realize, that, on the site of this refined capital,
only a hundred and fifty years ago, lived a people in such strong
contrast to the above, (save only in hospitality,) as are described by
William Penn in the following terms!—
“The natives I shall consider in their persons, language, manners,
religion, and government, with my sense of their original. For their
persons, they are generally tall, straight, well-built, and of singular
proportion; they tread strong and clever, and mostly walk with a lofty
chin. Of complexion, black, but by design, as the gypsies in England:
they grease themselves with bear’s fat, clarified; and using no defence
against sun or weather, their skins must needs be swarthy. Their eye is
little and black, not unlike a straight-looked Jew. The thick lip and
flat nose, so frequent with the East Indians and Blacks, are not common
to them; many of them have fine Roman noses.
“Their language is lofty, yet narrow; but like the Hebrew, in
signification full. Like short-hand in writing, one word serveth in the
place of three, and the rest are supplied by the understanding of the
hearer; imperfect in their tenses, wanting in their moods, participles,
adverbs, conjunctions, and interjections.
“Of their customs and manners there is much to be said: I will begin
with children. So soon as they are born, they wash them in water; and
while very young, and in cold weather, they plunge them in the rivers,
to harden and embolden them. The children will go very young—at nine
months, commonly: if boys, they go a fishing till ripe for the woods,
which is about fifteen; then they hunt, and after having given some
proofs of their manhood by a good return of skins, they may marry; else
it is a shame to think of a wife. The girls stay with their mothers, and
help to hoe the ground, plant corn, and carry burdens: and they do well
to use them to that young, which they must do when they are old; for the
wives are the true servants of the husbands, otherwise the men are very
affectionate to them.
“When the young women are fit for marriage, they wear something upon
their heads for an advertisement, but so as their faces are hardly to be
seen but when they please. The age they marry at, if women, is about
thirteen and fourteen; if men, seventeen and eighteen; they are rarely
elder.
“Their houses are mats, or barks of trees, set on poles, in the fashion
of an English barn, but out of the power of the winds, for they are
hardly higher than a man: they lie on reeds, or grass. In travel, they
lodge in the woods, about a great fire, with the mantle of duffils they
wear by day wrapt about them, and a few boughs stuck round them.
“Their diet is maize, or Indian corn, divers ways prepared; sometimes
roasted in the ashes; sometimes beaten and boiled with water, which they
call _homine_; they also make cakes not unpleasant to eat. They have
likewise several sorts of beans and peas that are good nourishment; and
the woods and rivers are their larder.”
[Illustration]
BROCK’S MONUMENT
FROM THE AMERICAN SIDE.
* * * * *
Lewiston is seldom seen to advantage by the traveller, who, in his
eagerness to reach Niagara, if going thither, or in the fulness of his
recollections, if returning, pays it very little attention. The village
itself is as dull and indifferent-looking a place as one would chance to
see; but it stands at the outlet of Niagara river into Lake Ontario, and
its neighbourhood on all sides is picturesque and beautiful.
Across the river, on the heights of Queenstown, stands the Monument of
General Brock, who died fighting very gallantly on this spot. A slight
_resumer_ of the hard-fought battle of Queenstown, which was creditable
to the courage and spirit of both countries, will be in place
accompanying this view.
The American forces on the Niagara river consisted of about five
thousand eight hundred men, under the command of Colonel Van Rensselaer.
Eighteen hundred of these were at Black Rock, twenty-eight miles
distant, and the remainder at Fort Niagara, under the General’s personal
command. Several skirmishes on the St. Lawrence had resulted in favour
of the Americans, and the forces at Lewiston were very anxious to have
an opportunity for action.
Directly opposite to the camp, on the other side of the river, lay
Queenstown, strongly fortified, and garrisoned by a large force, waiting
the orders of General Brock, then in Michigan. It was supposed that
preparations were making for a general attack on the frontier. The
possession of this place was considered very important to the Americans,
as it was the port for all the merchandise of the country above, and a
depôt of public stores for the line of English posts on Niagara and
Detroit rivers. It has besides, an excellent harbour, and good
anchorage.
An attack on Queenstown was projected for the night of the 11th of
October. It failed, however, in consequence of a tremendous storm, and
of the loss of a boat containing all the oars for the ferriage. Better
arrangements were completed by the night of the 12th, and on the morning
of the 13th, three hundred regular troops, and three hundred militia,
were ready at dawn of day to cross to the attack.
The river here is one sheet of violent eddies, and the boating very
difficult and laborious. A battery, mounting two eighteen-pounders and
two sixes, protected the embarkation, and the boats put off. The enemy
had been apprised of these preparations, and a brisk fire of musquetry
immediately opened along the shore, on the Canada side, which, from the
slow progress of the boats, did great execution. One of the boats was
hit by a grape shot, which threw the pilot and oarsmen into such
confusion, that they were carried down by the stream and obliged to
return, and two others dropped below the landing, and fell into the
hands of the enemy. Colonel Van Rensselaer, however, succeeded in
landing with about a hundred men, under a tremendous fire, and
immediately ascended the precipitous bank of the river. Before reaching
the summit, he received four balls, and two of his officers were killed,
and three wounded. Retiring under the shelter of the bank, Colonel Van
Rensselaer had still sufficient strength to give the order for storming
the fort; and about sixty men, commanded by Captain Ogilvie, seconded by
Captain Wool, who was previously wounded, mounted the rocks on the right
of the fort, gave three cheers, and with three desperate charges
obtained entire possession; they then carried the heights, and spiked
the cannon.
Reinforcements had by this time crossed the river, and the Americans
formed on the heights, under the command of Colonel Christie. General
Brock, who was on his way to Queenstown, having been met by an express,
arrived with a reinforcement of regulars from Fort George, and
immediately led his men into the rear of the captured battery. Captain
Wool detached one hundred and sixty men to meet him, but the detachment
was driven back. It was reinforced once more, and driven again to the
brow of the precipice overhanging the river. An American officer at this
time, despairing of the attempt, was about raising a white handkerchief
on a bayonet, when Captain Wool tore it off, and ordered the men once
more to charge. At this moment, Colonel Christie came up with a
reinforcement, and repeating Captain Wool’s orders, the American force,
amounting then to about three hundred, pushed forward and entirely
routed the British 49th, who were aided by the 41st, and who had
hitherto been called the Egyptian Invincibles. General Brock was
attempting to rally these two regiments, when he received three balls,
and died almost immediately.
The British formed again in an hour or two, and were reinforced by
several hundred Indians from Chippeway, and other regiments of their own
from other posts. Attempting to re-embark and retreat before a force so
much superior, the boats were found insufficient, and the American
regiments, after fighting nearly twelve hours, surrendered prisoners of
war, to the number of seven hundred.
On the burial of General Brock the succeeding day, the batteries on the
American side fired during the ceremony, as a tribute of respect to a
gallant soldier.
[Illustration]
VILLAGE OF CATSKILL, HUDSON RIVER.
* * * * *
Catskill is more known as the landing-place for travellers bound to the
mountains above, than for any remarkable events in its own history, or
any singular beauties in itself. It is a thrifty little village, in
which the most prosperous vocations are those of inn-keeper and
stage-proprietor, and, during the summer months, these two crafts at
Catskill entertain and transport to the hotel on the mountain half the
population of the United States—more or less. The crowded steamers stop
at the landing on their way up and down; and a busier scene than is
presented on the wharf twice in the day, for a minute and a half, could
not easily be found.
I have often thought in passing, of the contrast between these numerous
advents and the landing of Hendrick Hudson on this very spot, in his
voyage of discovery up the river. He found here, he says, “a very loving
people, and a very old man,” by whom he and his crew were very kindly
entertained. From the first step of a white man’s foot on the soil to
the crowded rush of passengers from a steam-boat—from a savage
wilderness to the height of civilization and science, it is but a little
more than two hundred years of rapid history. Compare the old Indian
canoe in which Hudson went from his vessel to the land, with a steamer
carrying on its deck near a thousand souls; compare the untutored
population which then swarmed upon the shore to the cultivated and
refined crowds who come and go in thousands on the same spot, and the
contrast is as astonishing as the extinction of the aboriginal race is
melancholy.
It is surprising how few details connected with the races that inhabited
the older settlements of our country are reached even by the researches
of Historical Societies. The materials for the future poets and
historians of America, are, in this department, singularly meagre,
though it might almost be supposed that the very tracks of the
retreating tribes might at this early day be still visible on the soil.
Wherever any particulars of the intercourse between the first settlers
and the Indians are preserved, they are highly curious, and often very
diverting. In a book on the settlements of this country, written by
Capt. Nathaniel Uring, who visited it in 1709, there is an amusing story
connected with the history of one of the forts, built, by permission of
the Indians, to secure the settlers against sudden incursion.
“It happened one day,” says the Captain, relating the story as it was
told him by the Governor, “as the carpenter was cutting down a large
timber-tree for the use of the fort, that great numbers of Indians stood
round it, gazing, and admiring the wonderful dexterity of the carpenter,
and greatly surprised at the manner of cutting it; having, before the
arrival of the Europeans, never seen an axe, or any such like tools. The
carpenter, perceiving the tree ready to fall, gave notice to the Indians
by language or signs to keep out of its reach when it fell; but either
for want of understanding the carpenter, or by carelessness of the
Indians, a branch of the tree, in its fall, struck one of them, and
killed him; upon which they raised a great cry. The carpenter, seeing
them much out of humour at the accident, made his escape into the fort;
and soon after, the Indians gathered together in great numbers about it,
and demanded justice of the Europeans for the death of their brother,
and desired to have the man who was the occasion of his being killed,
that they might execute him, and revenge their brother’s death. The
governor endeavoured to excuse the carpenter, by representing to them
that he was not to blame, and told them that if their brother had
observed the notice given him by the carpenter, he had not been hurt;
but that answer would not satisfy the Indians; they increased their
numbers about the fort, and nothing less than the execution of the
carpenter would content them.
“The Europeans endeavoured to spin out the time by treaty, and thought
to appease them by presents, hoping those, and time together, might make
them easy; but finding that would not do, and not being able longer to
defend themselves against such numbers as besieged them, they consulted
how to give the Indians satisfaction.
“The carpenter being a useful man, they considered that they could not
spare him without the greatest inconvenience; but seeing there was an
absolute necessity of doing something, they found out an expedient,
which was this:—there was in the fort an old weaver who had been
bed-rid a long time; _they concluded to hang up the weaver, and make the
Indians believe it was the carpenter_.
“Having come to this resolution, the governor let the Indians know,
that, since nothing else would satisfy them, though their demand was
unjust, yet, to show them how ready they were to live in amity and
friendship with them, that in the morning they should see the carpenter
hanging upon a certain tree in their view.
“In the night they carried the poor old weaver and hanged him in the
room of the carpenter, which gave full satisfaction to the Indians, and
they were again good friends.”
[Illustration]
VIEW FROM GOWAN’S HEIGHTS, BROOKLYN.
* * * * *
The Bay of New York and Staten Island, are, from this elevated point of
view, laid out beautifully beneath the eye, but the picturesque interest
of the spot yields to the historic. Directly below these heights was
fought the battle so disastrous to the revolutionary forces, between the
detachments commanded by Sullivan and Putnam, and the English army,
under Generals Howe and Clinton. As the defence of Long Island was
intimately connected with that of New York, Washington had stationed a
brigade at Brooklyn; and an extensive camp had been marked out and
fortified, fronting the main land of Long Island, and stretching quite
across the peninsula occupied by the village of Brooklyn. When the
movements of General Howe threatened an immediate attack on this
position, Major-General Putnam was directed to take the command, with a
reinforcement of six regiments; and the day previous to the action
Washington passed entirely at Brooklyn, inspecting the works, and
encouraging the soldiers.