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.