The events of the war by land are apt to be as confusing in narration as they were in fact. The many forays, skirmishes, and retreats along the Canadian frontier were campaigns in name only, ambitiously conceived but most haltingly executed. Major General Dearborn, senior officer of the American army, had failed to begin operations in the center and on the eastern flank in time to divert the enemy from Detroit; but in the autumn of 1812 he was ready to attempt an invasion of Canada by way of Niagara. The direct command was given to Major General Stephen Van Rensselaer of the New York State militia, who was to advance as soon as six thousand troops were assembled. At first Dearborn seemed hopeful of success. He predicted that "with the militia and other troops there or on the march, they will be able, I presume, to cross over into Canada, carry all the works in Niagara, and proceed to the other posts in that province in triumph."
The fair prospect soon clouded, however, and Dearborn, who was of a doubtful, easily discouraged temperament, partly due to age and infirmities, discovered that "a strange fatality seemed to have pervaded the whole arrangements." Yet this was when the movement of troops and supplies was far brisker and better organized than could have been expected and when the armed strength was thrice that of Brock, the British general, who was guarding forty miles of front along the Niagara River with less than two thousand men. At Queenston which was the objective of the first American attack there were no more than two companies of British regulars and a few militia, in all about three hundred troops. The rest of Brock's forces were at Chippawa and Fort Erie, where the heavy assaults were expected.
An American regular brigade was on the march to Buffalo, but its commander, Brigadier General Alexander Smyth, was not subordinate to Van Rensselaer, and the two had quarreled. Smyth paid no attention to a request for a council of war and went his own way. On the night of the 10th of October Van Rensselaer attempted to cross the Niagara River, but there was some blunder about the boats and the disgruntled troops returned to camp. Two nights later they made another attempt but found the British on the alert and failed to dislodge them from the heights of Queenston. A small body of American regulars, led by gallant young Captain Wool, managed to clamber up a path hitherto regarded as impassable. There they held a precarious position and waited for help. Brock, who was commanding the British in person, was instantly killed while storming this hillside at the head of reinforcements. In him the enemy lost its ablest and most intrepid leader.
The forenoon wore on and Captain Wool, painfully wounded, still clung to the heights with his two hundred and fifty men. A relief column which crossed the river found itself helpless for lack of artillery and intrenching tools and was compelled to fall back. Van Rensselaer forgot his bickering with General Smyth and sent him urgent word to hasten to the rescue. Winfield Scott, then a lieutenant colonel, came forward as a volunteer and took command of young Captain Wool's forlorn hope. Gradually more men trickled up the heights until the ground was defended by three hundred and fifty regulars and two hundred and fifty militia.
Meanwhile the British troops were mustering up the river at Chippawa, and the red lines of their veterans were descried advancing from Fort George below. Bands of Indians raced by field and forest to screen the British movements and to harass the American lines. The tragic turn of events appears to have dazed General Van Rensselaer. The failure to save the beleaguered and outnumbered Americans on the heights he blamed upon his troops, reporting next day that his reinforcements embarked very slowly. "I passed immediately over to accelerate them," said he, "but to my utter astonishment I found that at the very moment when complete victory was in our hands the ardor of the unengaged troops had entirely subsided. I rode in all directions, urged the men by every consideration to pass over; but in vain."
The candid fact seems to be that this general of militia had made a sorry mess of the whole affair, and his men had lost all faith in his ability to turn the adverse tide. He stood and watched six hundred valiant American soldiers make their last stand on the rocky eminence while the British hurled more and more men up the slope. One concerted attack by the idle American army would have swept them away like chaff. But there was only one Winfield Scott in the field, and his lot was cast with those who fought to the bitter end as a sacrifice to stupidity. The six hundred were surrounded. They were pushed back by weight of opposing numbers. Still they died in their tracks, until the survivors were actually pushed over a cliff and down to the bank of the river.
There they surrendered, for there were no boats to carry them across. The boatmen had fled to cover as soon as the Indians opened fire on them. Winfield Scott was among the prisoners together with a brigadier general and two more lieutenant colonels who had been bagged earlier in the day. Ninety Americans were killed and many more wounded, while a total of nine hundred were captured during the entire action. Van Rensselaer had lost almost as many troops as Hull had lost at Detroit, and he had nothing to show for it. He very sensibly resigned his command on the next day.
The choice of his successor, however, was again unfortunate. Brigadier General Alexander Smyth had been inspector general in the regular army before he was given charge of an infantry brigade. He had a most flattering opinion of himself, and promotion to the command of an army quite turned his head. The oratory with which he proceeded to bombard friend and foe strikes the one note of humor in a chapter that is otherwise depressing. Through the newspapers he informed his troops that their valor had been conspicuous "but the nation has been unfortunate in the selection of some of those who have directed it . . . The cause of these miscarriages is apparent. The commanders were popular men, 'destitute alike of theory and experience' in the art of war." "In a few days," he announced, "the troops under my command will plant the American standard in Canada. They are men accustomed to obedience, silence, and steadiness. They will conquer or they will die. Will you stand with your arms folded and look on this interesting struggle? . . . Has the race degenerated? Or have you, under the baneful influence of contending factions, forgot your country? . . . Shame, where is thy blush? No!"
This invasion of Canada was to be a grim, deadly business; no more trifling. His heroic troops were to hold their fire until they were within five paces of the enemy, and then to charge bayonets with shouts. They were to think on their country's honor torn, her rights trampled on, her sons enslaved, her infants perishing by the hatchet, not forgetting to be strong and brave and to let the ruffian power of the British King cease on this continent.
Buffalo was the base of this particular conquest of Canada. The advance guard would cross the Niagara River from Black Rock to destroy the enemy's batteries, after which the army was to move onward, three thousand strong. The first detachments crossed the river early in the morning on the 28th of November and did their work well and bravely and captured the guns in spite of heavy loss. The troops then began to embark at sunrise, but by noon only twelve hundred were in boats. Upstream they moved at a leisurely pace and went ashore for dinner. The remainder of the three thousand, however, had failed to appear, and Smyth refused to invade unless he had the full number. Altogether, four thousand troops, all regulars, had been sent to Niagara but many of them had been disabled by sickness.