Just below the Suspension Bridge the gas-works discharge their tar down the bank into the river; a few yards further on there are five or six large manufactories, whose tail-races empty themselves over the cliff. The spectator on Goat Island, on the Suspension Bridge, or on the Canadian side cannot help seeing this mass of incongruous and ugly structures extending along the whole course of the Rapids and to the brink of the Falls. Of course, under these circumstances the Rapids are degraded into a mill-race, and the Fall itself seems to be lacking a water-wheel.
One half of Bath Island—which lies between Goat Island and the shore—is filled with the ruins of a large paper-mill which was burnt in 1880. It is now being rebuilt and greatly enlarged. Masses of charred timbers, old iron, calcined stones and bricks, two or three great rusty boilers, the dirty heaps surmounted by a tall chimney—such are the surroundings of a spot, which, for grandeur and romantic beauty, is not equalled in the world. A short distance below Bath Island lies Bird Island, a mere clump of trees in the midst of the rushing water, a mass of dark-green foliage overhanging its banks and trailing its branches carelessly in the foam. This little spot has been untrodden by man—the most fearless savage would not risk his birch-bark boat in these waters. But what those who profit by it call the rapid strides of commercial industry, or possibly the development of our national resources, will soon destroy this little piece of Nature; already the owners of the paper-mill have built their dam within twenty yards of it, extending through the waters like the limb of some horrid spider, slowly but surely reaching its prey. Let the connection be made, and a couple of men with axes turned loose in this little green island, and before long the rattle of a donkey-engine or the howl of a saw-mill swells the chorus of this soi-disant civilisation. The following does not sound very encouraging for the preservation of Niagara's scenery. It is taken from a paper, Niagara as a Water Power:
" . . . Hence it is that we are soon to see a development of this peculiar power of Niagara which will stand unrivalled among motors of its class in the world.
"Already people talk of the storage of electricity and quote the opinions of scientists about the possibilities of the future. Sir William Thompson—it is said—gave as his opinion that it would be perfectly feasible to light London with electricity generated at Niagara.
"There is no assurance that Goat Island may not be sold at any moment for the erection of a mill or factory. Indeed if a rapid development of the mechanical application of electricity should take place—thus enabling speculators to offer very high prices for the immense power that could be controlled from Goat Island, it is almost certain that such a sale would result. And with its accomplishment would disappear the last chance of saving Niagara!"
The honour of first suggesting the preservation of Niagara Falls has been claimed by many persons. But the first real suggestion dates back as early as 1835, though made without details. It came from two Scotchmen, Andrew Reed and James Matheson, who, in a volume describing their visits to Congregational churches of this country, first broached the idea that Niagara should "be deemed the property of civilised mankind."
In 1885, by the labours of several distinguished men, principally Mr. Frederick Law Olmsted, a bill was passed in the Legislature of New York instructing the commissioners of the State Survey to prepare a report on the conditions and prospects of Niagara. This report was prepared by Mr. James T. Gardner, the director of the New York State Survey, and Mr. Olmsted. It strongly protested against such waste and degradation of the scenery as have been described in this chapter; it set forth the dangers of ultimate destruction, and made an eloquent appeal in favour of State action to preserve this natural treasure. The report strongly urged the establishment of an "International Park," and gave details of its construction with maps and views. It proposed that a strip of land a mile long and varying from one hundred feet to eight hundred feet broad, together with the buildings on it, should be condemned by the State, appraised by a commission, and purchased. The erections on Bath Island and in the Rapids were to be swept away. Trees and shrubberies were to be planted, roads and foot-paths appropriately laid out. The cost was estimated at one million dollars.[11]
Why the bill should have met with so much opposition before it was finally passed, is to-day a question hard to answer; at any rate the political history of the bill is interesting.
As in the case of most modern propositions the question was generally asked:
"Is the game worth the candle? Is it worth while to spend a million dollars—to take twenty-five cents out of the pocket of each tax-payer in the State of New York—in order to destroy a lot of good buildings and plant trees in place of them, and, moreover, to do this for the sake of a few persons whose nerves are so delicate that the sight of a tremendous body of water rushing over a precipice is spoiled for them by a pulp-mill standing on the banks?"