Not even the five-legged calves missed their share of plunder at Niagara, according to Mr. Howells, who paid his money out to assure himself, as he affirms, that this marvel was in no wise comparable to the Falls. "I do not say that the picture of the calf on the outside of the tent," he observes, "was not as good as some pictures of Niagara I have seen. It was, at least, as much like." A writer of a decade before this (1850) speaks very strongly of the impositions to which a traveller is subjected at Niagara. How early in the century complaints began to appear cannot be stated; it would be interesting to be able to get information on this point since it would determine a more important matter still—the time when the Falls began to attract visitors in sufficient proportions to bring into existence the evils we find very prevalent at the middle of the century. The latter writer observes:
It would be paying Niagara a poor compliment to say that, practically she does not hurl off this chaffering by-play from her cope; but as you value the integrity of your impression, you are bound to affirm that it hereby suffers appreciable abatement; you wonder, as you stroll about, whether it is altogether an unrighteous dream that with the slow progress of culture, and the possible or impossible growth of some larger comprehension of beauty and fitness, the public conscience may not tend to ensure to such sovereign phases of nature something of the inviolability and privacy which we are slow to bestow, indeed, upon fame, but which we do not grudge, at least, to art. We place a great picture, a great statue, in a museum; we erect a great monument in the centre of our largest square, and if we can suppose ourselves nowadays building a cathedral, we should certainly isolate it as much as possible and subject it to no ignoble contact. We cannot build about Niagara with walls and a roof, nor girdle it with a palisade; but the sentimental tourist may muse upon the chances of its being guarded by the negative homage of empty spaces, and absent barracks, and decent forbearance. The actual abuse of the scene belongs evidently to that immense class of iniquities which are destined to grow very much worse in order to grow a very little better. The good humour engendered by the main spectacle bids you suffer it to run its course.
There was at least no bettering of conditions at Niagara between 1850 and 1881, when more or less active steps began to be taken for the freeing of the beautiful shrine. True, Goat Island was kept ever in its primeval beauty, which by far counterbalanced the Porter mills on Bath Island; as William Dean Howells wrote, while these "were impertinent to the scenery they were picturesque with their low-lying, weatherworn masses in the shelter of the forest trees beside the brawling waters' head. But nearly every other assertion of private rights in the landscape was an outrage to it."
Winter Scene in Prospect Park.
One of the strongest direct appeals to the nation's conscience in behalf of enslaved Niagara appeared in 1881 and is worthy of reproduction, if only for its vivid description of the status of affairs at the Falls at that time:
The homage of the world has thrown a halo round Niagara for those who have not seen it, and Niagara has left its own impress upon every thoughtful person who has seen it, and every unpleasant feature therefore is brought into bold relief. Where the carcass is, there also will the eagles be gathered together. A continuous stream of open-mouthed travellers has offered rare opportunities to the quick-witted money-makers of all kinds; the contrast between the place and its surroundings, perceived at first by the few, has been for years trumpeted throughout the country by the number of correspondents who write periodical accounts of the season, and to-day every sane adult citizen may be said to know two things about Niagara: first, that there is a great waterfall there, and second, that a man's pockets will be emptied more quickly there than anywhere else in the Union. . . . Niagara is being destroyed as a summer resort. It has long since ceased to be a place where people stay for a week or more, and it is now given up to second-class tourists, and excursionists who are brought by the car-load. The constant fees, the solicitation of the hackmen, the impertinences of the store-keepers, have actually been so potent that it is a rare thing to find any of the best people here. The hotels are not to blame; the Cataract House for instance, is a quiet, comfortable hotel, excellently managed, and in the hands of gentlemanly proprietors, and it is probably by no means alone in this respect. The hotel-keepers are aware of the state of things; they do not encourage the excursion traffic. Some even seek to avoid the patronage of the excursionists. From all over the country—from places as far as Louisville—the railway company bring the people by thousands: they pour out of the station in a stream half a mile long. Of course, like locusts, they sweep everything before them. Several places—Prospect Park, for instance—cater to the tastes of this class alone. Several evenings in the week Prospect Park is filled with a crowd of free-and-easy men and women, fetching their own tea and coffee and provisions and enjoying a rollicking dance in the Pavilion. And all this within fifty yards of the American fall! For their entertainment there is an illuminated spray-fountain, and their appreciation knows no bounds when various coloured lights are thrown upon the Falls. Then a crowd of fifty swoops down upon one of the hotels—men, women, and children—all in brown linen dusters; all hot, hungry, and careless. These people must not be deprived of their recreation. Heaven forbid! None have a greater right than they to the influence of Niagara. But this way of visiting the place is all wrong; they derive little benefit, and they do infinite harm.
In this second sense the destruction of Niagara is making rapid strides in a far more dangerous direction. The natural attractions of the place are being undermined. On the American side the bank of the river above the Falls is covered for a quarter of a mile with structures of all kinds, from the extensive parlors and piazzas of the Cataract House to the little shanty where the Indian goods of Irish manufacture are sold.
For the purpose of securing bathrooms and water-power, dams of all kinds have been built; these are wooden trenches filled with rough paving-stones. Some of the structures project over the Rapids, being supported by piles. The spaces between the various buildings are used to store lumber, and as dust heaps. One of them contains a great heap of saw-dust, another a pile of scrap-iron. The banks and fences bear invitations to purchase Parker's hair-balsam and ginger tonic. The proprietor of Prospect Park has made a laudable attempt to plant trees upon his land; these extend for a few yards above the Falls. In return, however, he has erected coloured arbours, and a station for his electric light, which are almost as unpleasant as the other buildings.