At the commencement of the road the country becomes rather elevated, is highly fertile, is covered with a superb growth of timber, and is intersected with streams well calculated for mills.
On the River Raisin stands Frenchtown, an ancient and considerable settlement.[[101]] The inhabitants on the river are principally French; but the American population is rapidly increasing. The soil here is of an excellent quality, and in high repute. The river, at the settlement, is about sixty rods wide, and it is navigable to Lake Erie, a distance of about twelve miles. The river has been explored for about seventy miles above Frenchtown; and beyond this distance the country is but little known. The land above the settlement is said to be even better than in its immediate vicinity. The name of the river comports well with the nature of the soil; it may be rendered, in English, river of grapes.
I approached this river with a light step and a heavy heart. Hundreds of my gallant countrymen had there fallen victims to British barbarity. Who has heard without horror, of the massacre at the River Raisin![[102]] When I arrived at this bloody field, the snow had left the hillocks, and the grass began to vegetate upon the soldier’s grave. The sun was setting in sadness, and seemed not yet to have left off his weeds. The wind from the north, crossing [110] the icy vales, rebuked the unconscious spring; and the floating ice, striking against the banks of the river, spake of the warrior souls, pressing for waftage across the gulph of death.
In speaking of our too general employment of militia, I suggested, that in another place I should offer some reflections upon the subject of war.
Nothing but the influence of example, and the ability of the human mind readily to accustom itself to crime and carnage, prevents us from being shocked by sanguinary contests between civilized communities. How astonishing is it, that nations, acquainted with the feelings and principles of humanity, instructed by the precepts and example of the Prince of Peace, and living in the hopes of Heaven, should send armies into the field to butcher each other! The practice is indeed a disgrace to human nature; and the mournful consequences of it must make the Angels weep. How often has the hostile foot suddenly assailed the ear of apprehension! How often has war driven man from his home, and blasted forever his plans of domestic happiness! How often is the wife called upon to mourn her husband slain!—The father his son, the pride and the glory of his old age!—The son his father, the instructor and the guide of his youth!—The brother, his brother of love!—And the maiden, the blooming youth,—the secret joy of her soul!
A state of war is demoralizing in many points of view. It opens a wide door to selfish ambition,—to intrigue, avarice, and to all their concomitant crimes. A habit of engaging in war is very soon acquired; and then the feelings, and pecuniary interests of a considerable portion of the community, renders, to them, such a state desirable. Under such a state of things, the defence of national liberty is often the insincere apology for invasion; and the splendour [111] of military parade, captivating the heart, darkens the understanding, and silences the voice of conscience. The true nature of freedom is here overlooked; passion supplies the place of reason; and false glory is substituted for national respectability. Upon these grounds, the eclat of military achievements undermines the virtue of the state, and military tyranny usurps the place of rational government.
The evil effects of war are incalculable. They continue to operate for ages, and materially affect the ultimate destinies of nations. War, however, is sometimes necessary: but self defence,—in the largest sense of the phrase; self defence, both at home and on Nature’s Commons;—self defence directly and indirectly, is the only ground upon which it should be waged. Here Heaven will always smile, and freemen always conquer.
On the 18th and 19th of March I passed the battle grounds of Brownstown and Magagua.[[103]] Near the former place Major Vanhorn, commanding a detachment of one hundred and fifty men, was suddenly attacked, on all sides, by British regulars and Indians. The Americans made a spirited resistance, and after suffering severely effected a retreat. Soon after this affair another detachment, under Lieutenant Colonel Miller, consisting of three hundred of the veteran 4th regiment, and also about two hundred militia, were sent to accomplish the object of Vanhorn’s march, which was to support Capt. Brush, who was encamped at the River Raisin, and who was destined for Detroit with provisions for our army then in possession of Sandwich. The enemy anticipating another attempt to accomplish the object, immediately obtained reinforcements, and lay in ambush near the former battle ground. The Indians were commanded by Tecumseh; and the combined forces amounted to about seven hundred and fifty men.
[112] Colonel Miller, although he proceeded with caution, experienced a sudden attack. Perhaps there never was one more furious; or the resistance to which evinced in a greater degree the characteristic union and firmness of disciplined troops.
On the right of the Americans there was a dark wood, and on their left was a small prairie across which was an eminence covered with trees and bushes. In the wood, on the right, the Indians lay in ambush, with a breastwork between them and the Americans. On the small height, on the left, there was stationed a detachment of Indians; and the British regulars occupied other favourable positions. The onset was tremendous. The veteran Miller immediately extended his lines, to avoid being outflanked, ordered a detachment to dislodge the enemy on his left, opened a brisk fire upon the main body of the assailants, and then drove them at the point of the bayonet. At the same time, the enemy was driven from the height in a most prompt and gallant manner. The British regulars retreated; but the Indians still obstinately contended from behind the scattering trees. The regulars, in the mean time, were rallied; and the battle became more general, and more equally maintained. At this eventful moment, the mighty, yet cheering voice of the intrepid Miller, like the roar of a torrent echoing from a thousand hills, inspired with a new impulse his faithful,—generous troops.—In one moment the victory was ours. Early in the engagement, the veteran Colonel was, accidentally, thrown from his horse; and some suppose, that they can still see upon the ground the impression of his gigantic form.