Old Trails on the Niagara Frontier
by Frank H. Severance · English · Gutenberg #36974 · 518,558 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Old Trails on the Niagara Frontier
Author: Frank H. Severance
Release date: August 5, 2011 [eBook #36974]
Language: English
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OLD TRAILS
ON THE
NIAGARA FRONTIER
[Illustration]
FRANK H. SEVERANCE
[Illustration: THE VISION OF BREBEUF.
_Drawn by H. H. Green._ _See Page 15._]
OLD TRAILS
ON THE
NIAGARA FRONTIER
BY FRANK H. SEVERANCE
BUFFALO N Y
MDCCCXCIX
COPYRIGHT 1899
BY FRANK H. SEVERANCE
THE MATTHEWS-NORTHRUP CO.,
COMPLETE ART-PRINTING WORKS,
BUFFALO, N. Y.
TO THE
YOUNG PEOPLE OF THE SCHOOLS
OF BUFFALO,
MANY OF WHOM, ON SUNDRY PLEASANT OCCASIONS, HAVE ACCOMPANIED ME, IN
SCHOOL-ROOM TALKS, OVER SOME OF THE OLD TRAILS WHICH RUN IN AND OUT
OF OUR HOME REGION, THESE STUDIES OF NIAGARA FRONTIER HISTORY ARE
CORDIALLY INSCRIBED.
F. H. S.
CONTENTS.
DEDICATION, v
PREFACE, ix
THE CROSS BEARERS, 1
THE PASCHAL OF THE GREAT PINCH, 43
WITH BOLTON AT FORT NIAGARA, 63
WHAT BEFEL DAVID OGDEN, 107
A FORT NIAGARA CENTENNIAL, 141
THE JOURNALS AND JOURNEYS OF AN EARLY BUFFALO MERCHANT, 163
MISADVENTURES OF ROBERT MARSH, 195
UNDERGROUND TRAILS, 227
NIAGARA AND THE POETS, 275
PREFACE.
The essays herein contained have been written at "odd moments," and
for divers purposes. Their chief value lies in the fact that they
illustrate, several of them by means of individual experiences, certain
typical and well-defined periods in the history of the Niagara region.
By "Niagara region," a phrase which no doubt occurs pretty often in the
following pages, I mean to designate in a historic, not a scenic, sense
the frontier territory of the Niagara from Lake Erie to Lake Ontario. It
is a region which has a concrete but as yet for the most part unwritten
history of its own. The value of its past to the student, as is ever the
case with "local history" in its worthy aspect, depends upon the
importance of its relation to the general history of our country. That
the Niagara region has played an important part in that history, is an
assurance wholly superfluous for even the most casual student of
American development. All that the following studies undertake is to
give a glimpse, with such fidelity as may be, of events and conditions
hereabouts existing, at periods which may fairly be termed typical.
"The Cross Bearers," a paper originally prepared as a lecture for a
class that was studying the history of the Catholic Church in America,
is, so far as I am aware, the first attempt to review in a single
narrative all of the French missions in this immediate vicinity, and the
work of the English-speaking missionary priests who said mass in the
Niagara region prior to its full organization under ecclesiastical
jurisdiction. The data are drawn from the original sources--the Jesuit
Relations, Champlain, Le Clercq, Hennepin, Charlevoix, Crespel and other
early writers whose works, in any edition, are often inaccessible to the
student. For data relating to Bishop Burke, and for other valuable
assistance, I am indebted to my friend the Very Rev. Wm. R. Harris, Dean
of St. Catharines.
"The Paschal of the Great Pinch" is an attempt to picture, in narrative
form, conditions conceived to exist at Fort Niagara in 1687-'8, when the
Marquis de Denonville made his abortive attempt to occupy that point.
Lest any reader shall be in doubt as to the genuineness of the memoirs
of the Chevalier De Tregay, I beg to assure him that Lieut. De Tregay is
no myth. His name, and practically all the facts on which my sketch is
based, will be found in the Paris Documents (IV.), "Documentary History
of the State of New York," Vol. I. This paper stands for the French
period on the Niagara; the two next following, for the British period.
"With Bolton at Fort Niagara" is almost wholly drawn from unpublished
records, chiefly the Haldimand Papers, the originals of which are in the
British Museum, but certified copies of which are readily accessible to
the student in the Archives at Ottawa. I have made but a slight study of
the great mass of material from which practically the history of the
Niagara region during the Revolution is to be written; yet it is
probable that this slight study makes known for the first time, to
students of our home history, such facts as the employment of Hessians
on the Niagara during the Revolution, the first bringing hither of the
American flag, possibly even the work and fate of Lieut. Col. Bolton
himself.
The next paper, "What Befel David Ogden," is drawn from a widely
different, though scarcely less known source. The personal narrative is
based on an obscure pamphlet by Josiah Priest, published at
Lansingburgh, N. Y., in 1840. I am aware that Priest is not altogether
trustworthy as a historian. Dr. Thos. W. Field calls him a "prolific,
needy and unscrupulous author" [_See_ "An Essay Toward an Indian
Bibliography"]; yet he concedes to his works "a large amount of historic
material obtained at some pains from sources more or less authentic." My
judgment is, that Priest is least trustworthy in his more ambitious
work; whereas his unpretentious pamphlets, wretchedly printed at a
country press sixty years ago, contain true narratives of individual
undertakings in the Revolution, Indian captivities and other pioneer
experiences, gathered by the writer direct from the hero whose
adventures he wrote down, without literary skill it is true, but also
without apparent perversion or exaggeration. The very circumstantiality
with which David Ogden's experiences are narrated is evidence of their
genuineness. Corroborative evidence is also furnished by the
lately-published muster-rolls of New York regiments during the
Revolution. In the Third Regiment of Tryon County militia, among the
enlisted men, appears the name of David Ogden ["New York in the
Revolution," 2d ed., p. 181], and there was but one David Ogden, not
merely in the Tryon County militia, but so far as these records show, in
the entire soldiery of New York State. In the same regiment there was
also a "Daniel" Ogden, Sr., possibly David's father. The name Daniel
Ogden also occurs in the list of Tryon County Rangers ["New York in the
Revolution," 2d ed., p. 186], a service in which we would naturally
expect to find one whom the Indian Brant called "the beaver hunter, that
old scouter." In short, I think we may accept David as altogether
genuine, and in his adventures--never told before, I believe, as a part
of Niagara history--may find an example of patriotic suffering and
endurance wholly typical of what many another underwent at that time and
in this region.
The "Fort Niagara Centennial Address" is here included because its most
important part relates to that period in our history immediately
following the Revolution, the "hold-over period," during which, for
thirteen years after the Treaty of 1783, the British continued to occupy
Fort Niagara and other lake posts. What I say on the negotiations
leading to the final relinquishment of Fort Niagara is based on
information gleaned from the manuscript records in London and Ottawa.
"The Journals and Journeys of an Early Buffalo Merchant" is also a
contribution to local annals from an unpublished source, being drawn
from the MS. journals of John Lay, very kindly placed in my hands by
members of his family. They afford a picture of conditions hereabouts
and elsewhere, during the years 1810-'23, which I have thought worthy of
preservation.
In the "Misadventures of Robert Marsh" I have endeavored by means of a
personal narrative to illustrate another period in our history. The
misguided Marsh fairly stands for many of the so-called Patriots whose
uprising on this border is known as Mackenzie's Rebellion of 1837-'8.
The considerable literature on this subject includes a number of
personal narratives, for the most part published in small editions and
now hard to find; but the scarcest of all, so far as my experience has
discovered, is that from which I have drawn the story of Robert Marsh:
"Seven Years of My Life, or Narrative of a Patriot Exile, who together
with eighty-two American Citizens were illegally tried for rebellion in
Upper Canada and transported to Van Dieman's Land," etc., etc. It is an
exceedingly prolix and pretentious title, after the fashion of the time,
prefacing a badly-written, poorly-printed volume of 207 pages, turned
out by the press of Faxon & Stevens, Buffalo, 1848. In view of the fact
that neither in Sabin nor any other bibliography have I found any
mention of this book, and the further fact that in fifteen years of
somewhat diligent book-hunting I have discovered but one copy, it is no
exaggeration to call Marsh's "Narrative" "scarce," if not "rare."
The incidents related in "Underground Trails" are illustrative of many
an episode at the eastern end of Lake Erie in the days preceding the
Civil War. I had the facts of the principal adventures some years ago
from the late Mr. Frank Henry of Erie, Pa., who had himself been a
participant in more than one worthy enterprise of the Underground
Railroad. Sketches based on information supplied by Mr. Henry, and
originally written out for the Erie Gazette, are the latter part of the
paper as it now stands.
The last essay, "Niagara and the Poets," is a following of "Old Trails"
chiefly in a literary sense, but it is thought its inclusion here will
not be found inappropriate to the general character of the collection.
I must add a word of grateful acknowledgment for help received from
Douglas Brymner, Dominion Archivist, at Ottawa; from the Hon. Peter A.
Porter of Niagara Falls, N. Y., Charles W. Dobbins of New York City, and
John Miller, Erie, Pa. F. H. S.
The Cross Bearers.
THE CROSS BEARERS.
I invite you to consider briefly with me the beginnings of known history
in our home region. Of the general character of that history, as a part
of the exploration and settlement of the lake region, you are already
familiar. What I undertake is to direct special attention to a few of
the individuals who made that history--for history, in the ultimate
analysis, is merely the record of the result of personal character and
influence; and it is striking to note how relatively few and individual
are the dominating minds.
Remembering this, when we turn to trace the story of the Niagara, we
find the initial impulses strikingly different from those which lie at
the base of history in many places. Often the first chapter in the story
is a record of war for war's sake--the aim being conquest, acquisition
of territory, or the search for gold. Not so here. The first invasion of
white men in this mid-lake region was a mission of peace and good will.
Our history begins in a sweet and heroic obedience to commands passed
down direct from the Founder of Christianity Himself. Into these wilds,
long before the banner of any earthly kingdom was planted here, was
borne the cross of Christ. Here the crucifix preceded the sword; the
altar was built before the hearth.
Now, I care not what the faith of the student be, he cannot escape the
facts. The cross is stamped upon the first page of our home history--of
this Buffalo and the banks of the Niagara; and whoever would know
something of that history must follow the footsteps of those who first
brought the cross to these shores. It is, therefore, a brief following
of the personal experiences of these early cross bearers that we
undertake; but first, a word may be permitted by way of reminder as to
the conditions here existing when our recorded history begins.
From remote days unrecorded, the territory bordering the Niagara,
between Lakes Erie and Ontario, was occupied by a nation of Indians
called the Neuters. A few of their villages were on the east side of the
river, the easternmost being supposed to have stood near the present
site of Lockport. The greater part of the Niagara peninsula of Ontario
and the north shore of Lake Erie was their territory. To the east of
them, in the Genesee valley and beyond, dwelt the Senecas, the
westernmost of the Iroquois tribes. To the north of them, on Lake Huron
and the Georgian Bay, dwelt the Hurons. About 1650 the Iroquois overran
the Neuter territory, destroyed the nation and made the region east of
the Niagara a part of their own territory; though more than a century
elapsed, after their conquest of the Neuters, before the Senecas made
permanent villages on Buffalo Creek and near the Niagara. It is
necessary to bear this fact in mind, in considering the visits of white
men to this region during that period; it had become territory of the
Senecas, but they only occupied it at intervals, on hunting or fishing
expeditions.
During the latter years of Neuter possession of our region, missionaries
began to approach the Niagara from two directions; but long before any
brave soul had neared it through what is now New York State,--then the
heart of the fierce Iroquois country,--others, more successful, had come
down from the early-established missions among the Hurons, had sojourned
among the Neuters and had offered Christian prayers among the savages
east of the Niagara.
Note, therefore, that the first white man known to have visited the
Niagara region was a Catholic priest. Moreover, so far as is
ascertained, he was the first man, coming from what is now Canada, to
bring the Christian faith into the present territory of the United
States. This man was Joseph de la Roche Dallion.[1] The date of his
visit is 1626.
Father Dallion was a Franciscan of the Recollect reform, who had been
for a time at the mission among the Hurons, then carried on jointly by
priests and lay brothers of the Recollects and also by Fathers of the
Society of Jesus. On October 18th of this year (1626), he left his
companions, resolved to carry the cross among the people of the Neuter
nation. An interpreter, Brusle, had "told wonders" of these people.
Brusle, it would seem, therefore, had been among them; and although, as
I have said, Father Dallion was the first white man known to have
reached the Niagara, yet it is just to consider the probabilities in the
case of this all but unknown interpreter. There are plausible grounds
for belief, but no proof, that Etienne Brusle was the first white man
who ever saw Niagara Falls. No adventurer in our region had a more
remarkable career than his, yet but little of it is known to us. He was
with Champlain on his journey to the Huron country. He left that
explorer in September, 1615, at the outlet of Lake Simcoe, and went on a
most perilous mission into the country of the Andastes, allies of the
Hurons, to enlist them against the Iroquois. The Andastes lived on the
head-waters of the Susquehanna, and along the south shore of Lake Erie,
the present site of Buffalo being generally included within the bounds
of their territory. Champlain saw nothing more of Brusle for three
years, but in the summer of 1618 met him at Saut St. Louis. Brusle had
had wonderful adventures, had even been bound to the stake and burned so
severely that he must have been frightfully scarred. The name by which
we know him may have been given him on this account. He was saved from
death by what the Indians regarded as an exhibition of wrath on the part
of the Great Spirit. I find no trace of him between 1618 and 1626, when
Father Dallion appears to have taken counsel of him regarding the
Neuters. Brusle was murdered by the Hurons near Penetanguishene in 1632.
What is known of him is learned from Champlain's narrative of the voyage
of 1618 (edition of 1627). Sagard also speaks of him, and says he made
an exploration of the upper lakes--a claim not generally credited.
Parkman, drawing from these sources and the "Relations," tells his story
in "The Pioneers of France in the New World," admiringly calls him "That
Pioneer of Pioneers," and says that he seems to have visited the Eries
in 1615.
The interesting thing about him in connection with our present study is
the fact that he appears to have been the forerunner of Dallion among
the savages of the Niagara. There is no white man named in history who
may be even conjectured, with any plausibility, to have visited the
Niagara earlier than Brusle.[2]
Stimulated by this interpreter's reports, by the encouragement of his
companions and the promptings of his own zeal, Father Dallion set out
for the unknown regions. Two Frenchmen, Grenole and Lavallee,
accompanied him. They tramped the trail for six days through the woods,
apparently rounding the western end of Lake Ontario, and coming eastward
through the Niagara Peninsula. They were well received at the villages,
given venison, squashes and parched corn to eat, and were shown no sign
of hostility. "All were astonished to see me dressed as I was," writes
the father, "and to see that I desired nothing of theirs, except that I
invited them by signs to lift their eyes to heaven, make the sign of the
cross and receive the faith of Jesus Christ." The good priest, however,
had another object, somewhat unusual to the men of his calling. At the
sixth village, where he had been advised to remain, a council was held.
"There I told them, as well as I could, that I came on behalf of the
French to contract alliance and friendship with them, and to invite them
to come to trade. I also begged them to allow me to remain in their
country, to be able to instruct them in the law of our God, which is the
only means of going to paradise." The Neuters accepted the priest's
offers, and the first recorded trade in the Niagara region was made when
he presented them "little knives and other trifles." They adopted him
into the tribe, and gave him a father, the chief Souharissen.
After this cordial welcome, Grenole and Lavallee returned to the Hurons,
leaving Father Joseph "the happiest man in the world, hoping to do
something there to advance God's glory, or at least to discover the
means, which would be no small thing, and to endeavor to discover the
mouth of the river of Hiroquois, in order to bring them to trade." After
speaking of the people and his efforts to teach them, he continues: "I
have always seen them constant in their resolution to go with at least
four canoes to the trade, if I would guide them, the whole difficulty
being that we did not know the way. Yroquet, an Indian known in those
countries, who had come there with twenty of his men hunting for beaver,
and who took fully 500, would never give us any mark to know the mouth
of the river. He and several Hurons assured us that it was only ten
days' journey to the trading place; but we were afraid of taking one
river for another, and losing our way or dying of hunger on the land."
So excellent an authority as Dr. John Gilmary Shea says: "This was
evidently the Niagara River, and the route through Lake Ontario. He
(Dallion) apparently crossed the river, as he was on the Iroquois
frontier." The great conquest of the Neuters by the Iroquois was not
until 1648 or 1650. Just what the "Iroquois frontier" was in 1627 is
uncertain. It appears to have been about midway between the Niagara and
the Genesee, the easternmost Neuter village being some thirty miles east
of the Niagara. The Recollect appears therefore as the first man to
write of the Niagara, from personal knowledge, and of its mouth as a
place of trade. The above quotations are from the letter Father Dallion
wrote to one of his friends in France July 18, 1627, he having then
returned to Toanchain, a Huron village. I have followed the text as
given by Sagard. It is significant that Le Clercq, in his "Premier
Etablissement de la Foy," etc., gives a portion of Dallion's account of
his visit to the Neuters, but omits nearly everything he says about
trade.
Father Dallion sojourned three winter months with the Neuters, but the
latter part of the stay was far from agreeable. The Hurons, he says,
having discovered that he talked of leading the Neuters to trade, at
once spread false and evil reports of him. They said he was a great
magician; that he was a poisoner, that he tainted the air of the country
where he tarried, and that if the Neuters did not kill him, he would
burn their villages and kill their children. The priest was at a
disadvantage in not having much command of the Neuter dialect, and it is
not strange, after the evil report had once been started, that he should
have seemed to engage in some devilish incantation whenever he held the
cross before them or sought to baptize the children. When one reflects
upon the dense wall of ignorance and superstition against which his
every effort at moral or spiritual teaching was impotent, the admiration
for the martyr spirit which animated the effort is tempered by amazement
that an acute and sagacious man should have thought it well to "labor"
in such an obviously ineffective way. But history is full of instances
of ardent devotion to aims which the "practical" man would denounce at
once as unattainable. That Father Dallion was animated by the spirit of
the martyrs is attested in his own account of what befel him. A
treacherous band of ten came to him and tried to pick a quarrel. "One
knocked me down with a blow of his fist, another took an ax and tried to
split my head. God averted his hand; the blow fell on a post near me. I
also received much other ill-treatment; but that is what we came to seek
in this country." His assailants robbed him of many of his possessions,
including his breviary and compass. These precious things, which were no
doubt "big medicine" in the eyes of his ungracious hosts, were
afterwards returned. The news of his maltreatment reached the ears of
Fathers Brebeuf and De la Noue at the Huron mission. They sent the
messenger, Grenole, to bring him back, if found alive. Father Dallion
returned with Grenole early in the year 1627; and so ended the first
recorded visit of white man to the Niagara region.
* * * * *
For fourteen years succeeding, I find no allusion to our district. Then
comes an episode which is so adventurous and so heroic, so endowed with
beauty and devotion, that it should be familiar to all who give any
heed to what has happened in the vicinity of the Niagara.
Jean de Brebeuf was a missionary priest of the Jesuits. That implies
much; but in his case even such a general imputation of exalted
qualities falls short of justice. His is a superb figure, a splendid
acquisition to the line of heroic figures that pass in shadowy
procession along the horizon of our home history. Trace the narrative of
his life as sedulously as we may, examine his character and conduct in
whatever critical light we may choose to study them, and still the noble
figure of Father Brebeuf is seen without a flaw. There were those of his
order whose acts were at times open to two constructions. Some of them
were charged, by men of other faith and hostile allegiance, with using
their priestly privileges as a cloak for worldly objects. No such charge
was ever brought against Father Brebeuf. The guilelessness and heroism
of his life are unassailable.
He was of a noble Normandy family, and when he comes upon the scene, on
the banks of the Niagara, he was forty-seven years old. He had come out
to Quebec fifteen years before and had been assigned to the Huron
mission. In 1628 he was called back to Quebec, but five years later he
was allowed to return to his charge in the remote wilderness. The record
of his work and sufferings there is not a part of our present story.
Those who seek a marvelous exemplification of human endurance and
devotion, may find it in the ancient Relations of the order. He lived
amid threats and plots against his life, he endured what seems
unendurable, and his zeal throve on the experience. In November, 1640,
he and a companion, the priest Joseph Chaumonot, resolved to carry the
cross to the Neuter nation. They no doubt knew of Father Dallion's
dismal experience; and were spurred on thereby. Like him, they sought
martyrdom. Their route from the Huron country to the Niagara has been
traced with skill and probable accuracy by the Very Rev. Wm. R. Harris,
Dean of St. Catharines. At this time the Neuter nation lived to the
north of Lake Erie throughout what we know as the Niagara Peninsula, and
on both sides of the Niagara, their most eastern village being near the
present site of Lockport. From an uncertain boundary, thereabouts, they
confronted the possessions of the Senecas, who a few years later were to
wipe them off the face of the earth and occupy all their territory east
of the lake and river.
Fathers Brebeuf and Chaumonot set out on their hazardous mission
November 2d, in the year named, from a Huron town in the present
township of Medonte, Ontario. (Near Penetanguishene, on Georgian Bay.)
Their probable path was through the present towns of Beeton,
Orangeville, Georgetown, Hamilton and St. Catharines. They came out upon
the Niagara just north of the Queenston escarpment. The journey thus far
had been a succession of hardships. The interpreters whom they had
engaged to act as guides deserted them at the outset. Ahead of them went
the reputation which the Hurons spread abroad, that they were magicians
and carried all manner of evils with them. Father Brebeuf was a man of
extraordinary physical strength. Many a time, in years gone by, he had
astonished the Indians by his endurance at the paddle, and in carrying
great loads over the portages. His companion, Chaumonot, was smaller and
weaker, but was equally sustained by faith in Divine guidance. On their
way through the forests, Father Brebeuf was cheered by a vision of
angels, beckoning him on; but when he and his companion finally stood on
the banks of the Niagara, under the leaden sky of late November, there
was little of the beatific in the prospect. They crossed the swirling
stream--by what means must be left to conjecture, the probability being
in favor of a light bark canoe--and on the eastern bank found themselves
in the hostile village of Onguiara--the first-mentioned settlement on
the banks of our river.
Here the half-famished priests were charged with having come to ruin the
people. They were refused shelter and food, but finally found
opportunity to step into a wigwam, where Indian custom, augmented by
fear, permitted them to remain. The braves gathered around, and proposed
to put them to death. "I am tired," cried one, "eating the dark flesh of
our enemies, and I want to taste the white flesh of the Frenchman." So
at least is the record in the Relation. Another drew bow to pierce the
heart of Chaumonot; but all fell back in awe when the stalwart Brebeuf
stepped forth into their midst, without weapon and without fear, and
raising his hand exclaimed: "We have not come here for any other purpose
than to do you a friendly service. We wish to teach you to worship the
Master of Life, so that you may be happy in this world and in the
other."
Whether or not any of the spiritual import of his speech was
comprehended cannot be said; but the temper of the crowd changed, so
that, instead of threatening immediate death, they began to take a
curious, childish interest in the two "black-gowns"; examining the
priests' clothes, and appropriating their hats and other loose articles.
The travelers completely mystified them by reading a written message,
and thus getting at another's thoughts without a spoken word. The
Relation is rich in details of this sort, and of the wretchedness of the
life which the missionaries led. They visited other "towns," as the
collections of bark wigwams are called; but everywhere they were looked
upon as necromancers, and their lives were spared only through fear.
Far into the winter the priests endured all manner of hardship. Food was
sometimes thrown to them as to a worthless dog, sometimes denied
altogether, and then they had to make shift with such roots and barks or
chance game as their poor woodcraft enabled them to procure, or the
meager winter woods afforded. On one occasion, when a chief frankly told
them that his people would have killed them long before, but for fear
that the spirits of the priests would in vengeance destroy them,
Brebeuf began to assure him that his mission was only to do good;
whereupon the savage replied by spitting in the priest's face; and the
priest thanked God that he was worthy of the same indignity which had
been put upon Jesus Christ. When one faces his foes in such a spirit,
there is absolutely nothing to fear. And yet, after four months of these
experiences, there seems not to have been the slightest sign of any good
result. The savages were as invulnerable to any moral or spiritual
teachings as the chill earth itself. Dumb brutes would have shown more
return for kindness than they. The saying of Chateaubriand, that man
without religion is the most dangerous animal that walks the earth,
found full justification in these savages. Finally, Brebeuf and his
associate determined to withdraw from the absolutely fruitless field,
and began to retrace their steps towards Huronia.
It was near the middle of February, 1641, when they began their retreat
from the land of the Neuters. The story of that retreat, as indeed of
the whole mission, has been most beautifully told, with a sympathetic
fervency impossible for one not richly endowed with faith to simulate,
by Dean Harris. Let his account of what happened stand here:
"The snow was falling when they left the village Onguiara, crossed the
Niagara River near Queenston, ascended its banks and disappeared in the
shadowy forest. The path, which led through an unbroken wilderness, lay
buried in snow. The cold pierced them through and through. The cords on
Fr. Chaumonot's snow-shoe broke, and his stiffened fingers could
scarcely tie the knot. Innumerable flakes of snow were falling from
innumerable branches. Their only food was a pittance of Indian corn
mixed with melted snow; their only guide, a compass. Worn and spent with
hardships, these saintly men, carrying in sacks their portable altar,
were returning to announce to their priestly companions on the Wye the
dismal news of their melancholy failure and defeat. There was not a
hungry wolf that passed them but looked back and half forgave their
being human. There was not a tree but looked down upon them with pity
and commiseration. Night was closing in when, spent with fatigue, they
saw smoke rising at a distance. Soon they reached a clearing and
descried before them a cluster of bark lodges. Here these Christian
soldiers of the cross bivouacked for the night.
"Early that evening while Chaumonot, worn with traveling and overcome
with sleep, threw himself to rest on a bed that was not made up since
the creation of the world, Father Brebeuf, to escape for a time the
acrid and pungent smoke that filled the cabin, went out to commune with
God alone in prayer.... He moved toward the margin of the woods, when
presently he stopped as if transfixed. Far away to the southeast, high
in the air and boldly outlined, a huge cross floated suspended in
mid-heaven. Was it stationary? No, it moved toward him from the land of
the Iroquois. The saintly face lighted with unwonted splendor, for he
saw in the vision the presage of the martyr's crown. Tree and hillside,
lodge and village, faded away, and while the cross was still slowly
approaching, the soul of the great priest went out in ecstasy, in loving
adoration to his Lord and his God.... Overcome with emotion, he
exclaimed, 'Who will separate me from the love of my Lord? Shall
tribulation, nakedness, peril, distress, or famine, or the sword?'
Emparadised in ecstatic vision, he again cries out with enthusiastic
loyalty, '_Sentio me vehementer impelli ad moriendum pro Christo_'--'I
feel within me a mighty impulse to die for Christ'--and flinging himself
upon his knees as a victim for the sacrifice or a holocaust for sin, he
registered his wondrous vow to meet martyrdom, when it came to him, with
the joy and resignation befitting a disciple of his Lord.
"When he returned to himself the cross had faded away, innumerable stars
were brightly shining, the cold was wrapping him in icy mantle, and he
retraced his footsteps to the smoky cabin. He flung himself beside his
weary brother and laid him down to rest. When morning broke they began
anew their toilsome journey, holding friendly converse.
"'Was the cross large?' asked Father Chaumonot.
"'Large,' spoke back the other, 'yes, large enough to crucify us all.'"
It is idle to insist on judgments by the ordinary standards in a case
like this. As Parkman says, it belongs not to history, but to
psychology. Brebeuf saw the luminous cross in the heavens above the
Niagara; not the material, out-reaching arms of Niagara's spray, rising
columnar from the chasm, then resting, with crosslike extensions on the
quiet air, white and pallid under the winter moon. Such phenomena are
not unusual above the cataract, but may not be offered in explanation of
the priest's vision. He was in the neighborhood of Grimsby, full twenty
miles from the falls, when he saw the cross; much too far away to catch
the gleam of frosted spray. Nor is it a gracious spirit which seeks a
material explanation for his vision. The cross truly presaged his
martyrdom; and although the feet of Father Brebeuf never again sought
the ungrateful land of the Neuters, yet his visit and his vision were
not wholly without fruit. They endow local history with an example of
pure devotion to the betterment of others, unsurpassed in all the annals
of the holy orders. To Brebeuf the miraculous cross foretold martyrdom,
and thereby was it a sign of conquest and of victory to this heroic
Constantine of the Niagara.
* * * * *
After Brebeuf and Chaumonot had turned their backs on the Neuters, the
Niagara region was apparently unvisited by white men for more than a
quarter of a century. These were not, however, years of peaceful hunting
and still more placid corn and pumpkin-growing, such as some romantic
writers have been fond of ascribing to the red men when they were
unmolested by the whites. As a matter of fact, and as Fathers Dallion,
Brebeuf and Chaumonot had discovered, the people who claimed the banks
of the lower reaches of the Niagara as within their territory, were the
embodiment of all that was vile and barbarous. There is no record that
they had a village at the angle of lake and river, where now stands old
Fort Niagara. It would have been strange, however, if they did not
occasionally occupy that sightly plateau with their wigwams or huts,
while they were laying in a supply of fish. If trees ever covered the
spot they were killed by early camp-fires, probably long before the
coming of the whites. Among the earliest allusions to the point is one
which speaks of the difficulty of getting wood there; and such a
treeless tract, in this part of the country, could usually be attributed
to the denudation consequent on Indian occupancy.
A decade or so after the retreat of the missionaries came that fierce
Indian strife which annihilated the Neuters and gave Niagara's banks
into the keeping of the fiercer but somewhat nobler Iroquois. The story
of this Indian war has been told with all possible illumination from the
few meager records that are known; and it only concerns the present
chronicle to note that about 1650 the site of Fort Niagara passed under
Seneca domination. The Senecas had no permanent town in the vicinity,
but undoubtedly made it a rendezvous for war parties, and for hunting
and fishing expeditions.
Meanwhile, the Jesuits in their Relations, and after them the
cartographers in Europe, were making hearsay allusions to the Niagara or
locating it, with much inaccuracy, on their now grotesque maps. In 1648
the Jesuit Ragueneau, writing to the Superior at Paris, mentions
Niagara, which he had never seen or approached, as "a cataract of
frightful height." L'Allemant in the Relation published in 1642, had
alluded to the river, but not to the fall. Sanson, in 1656, put
"Ongiara" on his famous map; and four years later the map of Creuxius,
published with his great "Historiae Canadensis," gave our river and fall
the Latin dignity of "Ongiara Catarractes." One map-maker copied from
another, so that even by the middle of the seventeenth century, the
reading and student world--small and ecclesiastical as it mostly
was--began to have some inkling of the main features and continental
position of the mid-lake region for the possession of which, a little
later, several Forts Niagara were to be projected. It is not, however,
until 1669 that we come to another definite episode in the history of
the region.
In that year came hither the Sulpitian missionaries, Francois Dollier de
Casson and Rene de Brehant[3] de Galinee. They were bent on carrying the
cross to nations hitherto unreached, on Western rivers. With them was
the young Robert Cavelier, known as La Salle, who was less interested in
carrying the cross than in exploring the country. Their expedition left
Montreal July 6th, nine canoes in all. They made their way up the St.
Lawrence, skirted the south shore of Lake Ontario, and on Aug. 10th were
at Irondequoit Bay. They made a most eventful visit to the Seneca
villages south of the bay. Thence they continued westward, apparently by
Indian trails overland, and not by canoe. De Galinee, who was the
historian of the expedition, says that they came to a river "one eighth
of a league broad and extremely rapid, forming the outlet or
communication from Lake Erie to Lake Ontario," and he continues with a
somewhat detailed account of Niagara Falls, which, although he passed
near them, he did not turn aside to see. The Sulpitians and La Salle
crossed the river, apparently below Lewiston. They may indeed have come
to the river at its mouth, skirting the lake shore. One may infer either
course from the narrative of de Galinee, which goes on to say that five
days after passing the river they "arrived at the extremity of Lake
Ontario, where there is a fine, large sandy bay ... and where we
unloaded our canoes."
Pushing on westward, late in September, on the trail between Burlington
Bay and the Grand River, they met Joliet, returning from his expedition
in search of copper mines on Lake Superior. This meeting in the
wilderness is a suggestive and picturesque subject, but we may not dwell
on it here. Joliet, though he had thus preceded LaSalle and the
Sulpitians in the exploration of the lakes, had gone west by the old
northern route along the Ottawa, Lake Nipissing and the French River. He
was never on the Niagara, for after his meeting with LaSalle, he
continued eastward by way of the Grand River valley and Lake Ontario.
Fear of the savages deterred him from coming by way of the Niagara, and
thereby, it is not unlikely, becoming the white discoverer of Niagara
Falls.[4] He was the first white man, so far as records relate, to come
eastward through the Detroit River and Lake Erie. Our lake was therefore
"discovered" from the west--a fact perhaps without parallel in the
history of American exploration.
After the meeting with Joliet, La Salle left the missionaries, who,
taking advantage of information had from Joliet, followed the Grand
River down to Lake Erie. Subsequently they passed through Lake Erie to
the westward, the first of white men to explore the lake in that
direction. De Galinee's map (1669) is the first that gives us the north
shore of Lake Erie with approximate accuracy. On October 15th this
devout man and his companion reached Lake Erie, which they described as
"a vast sea, tossed by tempestuous winds." Deterred by the lateness of
the season from attempting further travel by this course, they
determined to winter where they were, and built a cabin for their
shelter.
Occasionally they were visited in their hut by Iroquois beaver hunters.
For five months and eleven days they remained in their winter quarters
and on the 23d of March, 1670, being Passion Sunday, they erected a
cross as a memorial of their long sojourn. The official record of the
act is as follows:
"We the undersigned certify that we have seen affixed on the lands
of the lake called Erie the arms of the King of France with this
inscription: 'The year of salvation 1669, Clement IX. being seated
in St. Peter's chair, Louis XIV. reigning in France, M. de
Courcelle being Governor of New France, and M. Talon being
intendant therein for the King, there arrived in this place two
missionaries from Montreal accompanied by seven other Frenchmen,
who, the first of all European peoples, have wintered on this lake,
of which, as of a territory not occupied, they have taken
possession in the name of their King by the apposition of his arms,
which they have attached to the foot of this cross. In witness
whereof we have signed the present certificate.'
"FRANCOIS DOLLIER,
"Priest of the Diocese of Nantes in Brittany.
"DE GALINEE,
"Deacon of the Diocese of Rennes in Brittany."
The winter was exceedingly mild, but the stream[5] was still frozen on
the 26th of March, when they portaged their canoes and goods to the lake
to resume their westward journey. Unfortunately losing one of their
canoes in a gale they were obliged to divide their party, four men with
the luggage going in the two remaining canoes; while the rest, including
the missionaries, undertook the wearisome journey on foot all the way
from Long Point to the mouth of the Kettle Creek. De Galinee grows
enthusiastic in his admiration for the immense quantities of game and
fruits opposite Long Point and calls the country the terrestrial
Paradise of Canada. "The grapes were as large and as sweet as the finest
in France. The wine made from them was as good as _vin de Grave_." He
admires the profusion of walnuts, chestnuts, wild apples and plums.
Bears were fatter and better to the palate than the most "savory" pigs
in France. Deer wandered in herds of fifty to an hundred. Sometimes even
two hundred would be seen feeding together. Before arriving at the sand
beach which then connected Long Point with the mainland they had to
cross two streams. To cross the first stream they were forced to walk
four leagues inland before they found a satisfactory place to cross. One
whole day was spent in constructing a raft to cross Big Creek, and after
another delay caused by a severe snow-storm, they successfully effected
a crossing and found on the west side a marshy meadow two hundred paces
wide into which they sank to their girdles in mud and slush. Beset by
dangers and retarded by inclement weather, they at last arrived at
Kettle Creek, where they expected to find the canoe in which Joliet had
come down Lake Huron and the Detroit and which he had told them was
hidden there. Great was their disappointment to find that the Indians
had taken it. However, later in the day, while gathering some wood for a
fire, they found the canoe between two logs and joyfully bore it to the
lake. In the vicinity of their encampment the hunters failed to secure
any game, and for four or five days the party subsisted on boiled maize.
The whole party then paddled up the lake to a place where game was
plentiful and the hunters saw more than two hundred deer in one herd,
but missed their aim. Disheartened at their failure and craving meat,
they shot and skinned a miserable wolf and had it ready for the kettle
when one of the men saw some thirty deer on the other side of the small
lake they were on. The party succeeded in surrounding the deer and,
forcing them into the water, killed ten of them. Now well supplied with
both fresh and smoked meat, they continued their journey, traveled
nearly fifty miles in one day and came to a beautiful sand beach (Point
Pelee), where they drew up their canoes and camped for the night. During
the night a terrific gale came up from the northeast. Awakened by the
storm they made all shift to save their canoes and cargoes. Dollier's
and de Galinee's canoes were saved, but the other one was swept away
with its contents of provisions, goods for barter, ammunition, and,
worst of all, the altar service, with which they intended establishing
their mission among the Pottawatamies.
The loss of their altar service caused them to abandon the mission and
they set out to return to Montreal, but strangely enough chose the long,
roundabout journey by way of the Detroit, Lake Huron and the French
River, in preference to the route by which they had come, or by the
outlet of Lake Erie, which they had crossed the autumn before. Thus de
Galinee and Dollier de Casson, like Joliet,--not to revert to Champlain
half a century earlier,--missed the opportunity, which seemed to wait
for them, of exploring the eastern end of Lake Erie, of correctly
mapping the Niagara and observing and describing its incomparable
cataract. Obviously the Niagara region was shunned less on account of
its real difficulties, which were not then known, than through terror of
the Iroquois. Our two Sulpitians reached Montreal June 18, 1670, which
date marks the close of the third missionary visitation in the history
of the Niagara.
* * * * *
And now I approach the point at which many writers of our local history
have chosen to begin their story--the famous expedition of La Salle and
his companions in 1678-'79. For the purpose of the present study we may
omit the more familiar aspects of that adventure, and limit our regard
to the acts of the holy men who continue the interrupted chain of
missionary work on the Niagara. On December 6th, St. Nicholas Day, 1678,
with an advance party under La Motte de Lussiere, came the Flemish
Recollect, Louis Hennepin. As the bark in which they had crossed stormy
Lake Ontario at length entered the Niagara, they chanted the Ambrosian
hymn, "Te Deum Laudamus," and there is no gainsaying the sincerity of
that thank-offering for perils escaped. Five days later, being encamped
on the present site of Niagara, Ont., Father Hennepin celebrated the
first mass ever said in the vicinity. A few days later, on the site of
Lewiston, he had completed a bark chapel, in which was held the first
Christian service which had been held on the eastern side of the Niagara
since the visit of Brebeuf thirty-eight years before. Father Hennepin
has left abundant chronicles of his activities on the Niagara. As soon
as the construction of the Griffon was begun above the falls a chapel
was established there, near the mouth of Cayuga Creek. Having blessed
this pioneer vessel of the upper lakes, when she was launched, he set
out for Fort Frontenac in the interests of the enterprise, and was
accompanied to the Niagara, on his return, by the Superior of the
mission, Father Gabriel de la Ribourde, and Fathers Zenobius Membre and
Melithon Watteaux. All through that summer these devoted priests shared
the varied labors of the camp. Hennepin tells us how he and his
companions toiled back and forth over the portage around the falls,
sometimes with their portable altar, sometimes with provisions, rigging
or other equipment for the ship. "Father Gabriel," he says, "though of
sixty-five years of age, bore with great vigor the fatigue of that
journey, and went thrice up and down those three mountains, which are
pretty high and steep." This glimpse of the saintly old priest is a
reminiscence to cherish in our local annals. He was the last of a noble
family in Burgundy who gave up worldly wealth and station to enter the
Order of St. Francis. He came to Canada in 1670, and was the first
Superior of the restored Recollect mission in that country. There is a
discrepancy between Hennepin and Le Clercq as to his age; the former
says he was sixty-five years old in 1679, when he was on the Niagara;
the later speaks of him as being in his seventieth year in 1680. Of the
three missionaries who with La Salle sailed up the Niagara in August,
1679, and with prayers and hymns boldly faced the dangers of the unknown
lake, the venerable Father Gabriel was first of all to receive the
martyr's crown. A year later, September 9, 1680, while engaged at his
devotions, he was basely murdered by three Indians. To Father Membre
there were allotted five years of missionary labor before he, too, was
to fall a victim to the savage. Father Hennepin lived many years, and
his chronicles stand to-day as in some respects the foundation of our
local history. But cherish as we may the memory of this trio of
missionaries, the imagination turns with a yet fonder regard back to the
devoted priest who was not permitted to voyage westward from the Niagara
with the gallant La Salle. When the Griffon sailed, Father Melithon
Watteaux was left behind in the little palisaded house at Niagara as
chaplain. He takes his place in our history as the first Catholic priest
appointed to minister to whites in New York State. On May 27, 1679, La
Salle had made a grant of land at Niagara to these Recollect Fathers,
for a residence and cemetery, and this was the first property in the
present State of New York to which the Catholic Church held title. Who
can say what were the experiences of the priest during the succeeding
winter in the loneliness and dangers of the savage-infested wilderness?
Nowhere have I as yet found any detailed account of his sojourn. We
know, however, that it was not long. During the succeeding years there
was some passing to and fro. In 1680 La Salle, returning east, passed
the site of his ruined and abandoned fort. He was again on the Niagara
in 1681 with a considerable party bound for the Miami. Father Membre,
who was with him, returned east in October, 1682, by the Niagara route;
and La Salle himself passed down the river again in 1683--his last visit
to the Niagara. His blockhouse, within which was Father Melithon's
chapel, had been burned by the Senecas.
From this time on for over half a century the missionary work in our
region centered at Fort Niagara, which still stands, a manifold reminder
of the romantic past, at the mouth of the river. Four years after La
Salle's last passage through the Niagara--in 1687--the Marquis de
Denonville led his famous expedition against the Senecas. With him in
this campaign was a band of Western Indians, who were attended by the
Jesuit Father Enjalran. He was wounded in the battle with the Senecas
near Boughton Hill, but appears to have accompanied de Denonville to his
rendezvous on the site of Fort Niagara. Here he undoubtedly exercised
his sacred office; and since the construction of Fort Niagara began at
this time his name may head the list of priests officiating at that
stronghold. He was soon after dispatched on a peace mission to the West,
which was the special scene of his labors. His part, for some years to
come, was to be an important one as Superior of the Jesuit Mission at
Michillimackinac.
As soon as Fort Niagara was garrisoned, Father Jean de Lamberville was
sent thither as chaplain. For the student, it would be profitable to
dwell at length upon the ministrations of this devoted priest. He was of
the Society of Jesus, had come out to Canada in 1668, and labored in the
Onondaga mission from 1671 to 1687. His work is indelibly written on the
history of missions in our State. He was the innocent cause of a party
of Iroquois falling into the hands of the French, who sent them to
France, where they toiled in the king's galleys. When de Denonville, in
1687, left at Fort Niagara a garrison of one hundred men under the
Chevalier de la Mothe, Father Lamberville came to minister to them. The
hostile Iroquois had been dealt a heavy blow, but a more insidious and
dreadful enemy soon appeared within the gates. The provisions which had
been left for the men proved utterly unfit for food, so that disease,
with astounding swiftness, swept away most of the garrison, including
the commander. Father Lamberville, himself, was soon stricken down with
the scurvy. Every man in the fort would no doubt have perished but for
the timely arrival of a party of friendly Miami Indians, through whose
good offices the few survivors, Father Lamberville among them, were
enabled to make their way to Catarouquoi--now Kingston, Ont. There he
recovered; and he continued in the Canadian missions until 1698, when he
returned to France.
Not willing to see his ambitious fort on the Niagara so soon abandoned,
de Denonville sent out a new garrison and with them came Father Pierre
Milet. He had labored, with rich results, among the Onondagas and
Oneidas. No sooner was he among his countrymen, in this remote and
forlorn corner of the earth, than he took up his spiritual work with
characteristic zeal. On Good Friday of that year, 1688, in the center of
the square within the palisades, he caused to be erected a great cross.
It was of wood, eighteen feet high, hewn from the forest trees and
neatly framed. On the arms of it was carved in abbreviated words the
sacred legend, "_Regnat, Vincit, Imperat Christus_," and in the midst of
it was engraven the Sacred Heart. Surrounded by the officers of the
garrison,--gallant men of France, with shining records, some of them
were,--by the soldiers, laborers and friendly Indians, Father Milet
solemnly blessed it. Can you not see the little band, kneeling about
that symbol of conquest? Around them were the humble cabins and quarters
of the soldiers. One of them, holding the altar, was consecrated to
worship. Beyond ran the palisades and earthworks--feeble fortifications
between the feeble garrison and the limitless, foe-infested wilderness.
On one hand smiled the blue Ontario, and at their feet ran the gleaming
Niagara, already a synonym of hardship and suffering in the annals of
three of the religious orders. What wonder that the sense of isolation
and feebleness was borne in upon the little band, or that they devoutly
bowed before the cross which was the visible emblem of their strength
and consolation in the wilderness. Where is the artist who shall paint
us this scene, unique in the annals of any people?
And yet, but a few months later--September 15th of that year--the
garrison was recalled, the post abandoned, the palisades broken down,
the cabins left rifled and empty; and when priest and soldiers had
sailed away, and only the prowling wolf or the stealthy Indian ventured
near the spot, Father Milet's great cross still loomed amid the
solitude, a silent witness of the faith which knows no vanquishing.
There followed an interim in the occupancy of the Niagara when neither
sword nor altar held sway here; nor was the altar reestablished in our
region until the permanent rebuilding of Fort Niagara in 1726. True,
Father Charlevoix passed up the river in 1721, and has left an
interesting account of his journey, his view of the falls, and his brief
tarrying at the carrying-place--now Lewiston. This spot was the
principal rendezvous of the region for many years; and here, at the
cabin of the interpreter Joncaire, where Father Charlevoix was received,
we may be sure that spiritual ministrations were not omitted. A somewhat
similar incident, twenty-eight years later, was the coming to these
shores of the Jesuit Father Bonnecamps. He was not only the spiritual
leader but appears to have acted as pilot and guide to De Celoron's
expedition--an abortive attempt on the part of Louis XV. to reesablish
the claims of France to the inland regions of America. The expedition
came up the St. Lawrence and through Lake Ontario, reaching Fort Niagara
on July 6, 1749. It passed up the river, across to the south shore of
Lake Erie and by way of Chautauqua Lake and the Allegheny down the Ohio.
Returning from its utterly futile adventure, we find the party resting
at Fort Niagara for three days, October 19-21. Who the resident chaplain
was at the post at that date I have not been able to ascertain; but we
may be sure that he had a glad greeting for Father Bonnecamps. From
1726, when, as already mentioned, the fort was rebuilt, until its
surrender to Sir Wm. Johnson in 1759, a garrison was continually
maintained, and without doubt was constantly attended by a chaplain. The
register of the post during these years has never been found--the
presumption being that it was destroyed by the English--so that the
complete list of priests who ministered there is not known.
Only here and there from other sources do we glean a name by which to
continue the succession. Father Crespel was stationed at Fort Niagara
for about three years from 1729, interrupting his ministrations there
with a journey to Detroit, where his order--the Society of Jesus--had
established a mission. Of Fort Niagara at this time he says: "I found
the place very agreeable; hunting and fishing were very productive; the
woods in their greatest beauty, and full of walnut and chestnut trees,
oaks, elms and some others, far superior to any we see in France." But
not even the banks of the Niagara were to prove an earthly paradise.
"The fever," he continues, "soon destroyed the pleasures we began to
find, and much incommoded us, until the beginning of autumn, which
season dispelled the unwholesome air. We passed the winter very quietly,
and would have passed it very agreeably, if the vessel which was to have
brought us refreshments had not encountered a storm on the lake, and
been obliged to put back to Frontenac, which laid us under the necessity
of drinking nothing but water. As the winter advanced, she dared not
proceed, and we did not receive our stores till May."
Remember the utter isolation of this post and mission at the period we
are considering. To be sure, it was a link in the chain of French posts,
which included Quebec, Montreal, Kingston, Niagara, Detroit,
Michillimackinac; but in winter the water route for transport was
closed, and Niagara, like the upper posts, was thrown on its own
resources for existence. There is no place in our domain to-day which
fairly may be compared to it for isolation and remoteness. The upper
reaches of Alaskan rivers are scarcely less known to the world than was
the Niagara at the beginning of the last century. A little fringe of
settlement--hostile settlement at that--stretched up the Hudson from New
York. Even the Mohawk Valley was still unsettled. From the Hudson to
the remotest West the wilderness stretched as a sea, and Fort Niagara
was buried in its midst. Although a full century had gone by since
Father Dallion first reached its shores, there was now no trace of white
men on the banks of the Niagara save at the fort at its mouth, where
Father Crespel ministered, and at the carrying-place, where Joncaire the
interpreter lived with the Indians. Not even the first Indian villages
on Buffalo Creek were to be established for half a century to come.
After Father Crespel's return from Detroit, he remained two years longer
at Fort Niagara, caring for the spiritual life of the little garrison,
and learning the Iroquois and Ottawah languages well enough to converse
with the Indians. "This enabled me," he writes, "to enjoy their company
when I took a walk in the environs of our post." The ability to converse
with the Indians afterwards saved his life. When his three years of
residence at Niagara expired he was relieved, according to the custom of
his order, and he passed a season in the convent at Quebec. While he was
undoubtedly immediately succeeded at Niagara by another chaplain, I have
been unable to learn his name or aught of his ministrations. Indeed,
there are but few glimpses of the post to be had from 1733 to 1759, when
it fell into the hands of the English. One of the most interesting of
these is of the visit of the Sulpitian missionary, the Abbe Piquet, who
in 1751 came to Fort Niagara from his successful mission at La
Presentation--now Ogdensburg. It is recorded of him that while here he
exhorted the Senecas to beware of the white man's brandy; his name may
perhaps stand as that of the first avowed temperance worker in the
Niagara region.
But the end of the French _regime_ was at hand. For more than a century
our home region had been claimed by France; for the last thirty-three
years the lily-strewn standard of Louis had flaunted defiance to the
English from the banks of the Niagara. Now on a scorching July day the
little fort found itself surrounded, with Sir Wm. Johnson's cannon
roaring from the wilderness. There was a gallant defense, a baptism of
fire and blood, an honorable capitulation. But in that fierce conflict
at least one of the consecrated soldiers of the cross--Father Claude
Virot--fell before British bullets; and when the triple cross of Britain
floated over Fort Niagara, the last altar raised by the French on the
east bank of the Niagara river had been overthrown.
* * * * *
On this eventful day in 1759, when seemingly the opportunities for the
Catholic Church to continue its work on the Niagara were at an end,
there was, in the poor parish of Maryborough, county Kildare, Ireland, a
little lad of six whose mission it was to be to bring hither again the
blessed offices of his faith. This was Edmund Burke, afterwards Bishop
of Zion, and first Vicar-Apostolic of Nova Scotia, but whose name shines
not less in the annals of his church because of his zeal as missionary
in Upper Canada. Having come to Quebec in 1786, he was, in 1794,
commissioned Vicar-General for the whole of Upper Canada--the province
having then been established two years. In that year we find him at
Niagara, where he was the first English-speaking priest to hold Catholic
service. True, there was at the post that year a French missionary named
Le Dru, who could speak English; but he had been ordered out of the
province for cause. The field was ripe for a man of Father Burke's
character and energy. His early mission was near Detroit; he was the
first English-speaking priest in Ohio, and it is worthy of note that he
was at Niagara on his way east, July 22, 1796--only three weeks before
the British finally evacuated Fort Niagara and the Americans took
possession. Through his efforts in that year, the Church procured a
large lot at Niagara, Ont., where he proposed a missionary
establishment. There had probably never been a time, since the English
conquest, when there had not been Catholics among the troops quartered
on the Niagara; but under a British and Protestant commandant no
suitable provision for their worship had been made. In 1798--two years
after the British had relinquished the fort on the east side of the
river to the Americans--Father Burke, being at the British garrison on
the Canadian side, wrote to Monseigneur Plessis:
Here I am at Niagara, instead of having carried out my original
design of going on to Detroit, thence returning to Kingston to pass
the winter. The commander of the garrison, annoyed by the continual
complaints of the civic officials against the Catholic soldiers,
who used to frequent the taverns during the hours of service on
Sunday, gave orders that officers and men should attend the
Protestant service. They had attended for three consecutive Sundays
when I represented to the commander the iniquity of this order. He
replied that he would send them to mass if the chaplain was there,
and he thought it very extraordinary that whilst a chaplain was
paid by the king for the battalion, instead of attending to his
duty he should be in charge of a mission, his men were without
religious services, and his sick were dying without the sacraments.
You see, therefore, that I have reason for stopping short at
Niagara; for we must not permit four companies, of whom three
fourths both of officers and men are Catholics, to frequent the
Protestant church.
The name of the priest against whom the charge of neglect appears to
lie, was Duval; but it is not clear that he had ever attended the troops
to the Niagara station. But after Father Burke came Father Desjardines
and an unbroken succession, with the district fully organized in
ecclesiastical jurisdiction.
* * * * *
And now, although our story of mission work in the Niagara region has
been long--has reviewed the visitations of two centuries--the reader may
have remarked the striking fact that every priest who came into our
territory, up to the opening of the nineteenth century, came from
Canada. This fact is the more remarkable when we recall the
long-continued and vigorous missions of the Jesuits in what is now New
York State, extending west nearly to the Genesee River. But the fact
stands that no priest from those early establishments made his way
westward to the present site of Buffalo. Fathers Lamberville and Milet
had been stationed among the Onondagas and Oneidas before coming into
our region at Fort Niagara; but they came thither from Canada, by way of
Lake Ontario, and not through the wilderness of Western New York. The
westernmost mission among the Iroquois was that of Fathers Carheil and
Garnier at Cayuga, where they were at work ten years before La Salle
built the Griffon on the Niagara. It is interesting to note that this
mission, which was established nearest to our own region, was "dedicated
to God under the invocation of St. Joseph," and that, two hundred years
after, the first Bishop of Buffalo obtained from his Holiness, Pope Pius
IX., permission that St. Joseph should be the principal patron saint of
this diocese.
The earliest episcopal jurisdiction of the territory now embraced in the
city of Buffalo, dating from the first visit of Dallion to the land of
the Neuters, was directly vested in the diocese of Rouen--for it was the
rule that regions new-visited belonged to the government of the bishop
from a port in whose diocese the expedition bearing the missionary had
sailed; and this stood until a local ecclesiastical government was
formed; the first ecclesiastical association of our region, on the New
York side, therefore, is with that grand old city, Rouen, the home of La
Salle, scene of the martyrdom of the Maid of Orleans, and the center,
through many centuries, of mighty impulses affecting the New World. From
1657 to 1670 our region was embraced in the jurisdiction of the Vicar
Apostolic of New France; and from 1670 to the Conquest in the diocese of
Quebec. There are involved here, of course, all the questions which grew
out of the strife for possession of the Niagara region by the French,
English and Dutch. Into these questions we may not enter now further
than to note that from 1684 the English claimed jurisdiction of all the
region on the east bank of the Niagara and the present site of Buffalo.
This claim was in part based on the Treaty of Albany at which the
Senecas had signified their allegiance to King Charles; and by that
acquiescence nominally put the east side of the Niagara under British
rule. The next year, when the Duke of York came to the throne, he
decreed that the Archbishop of Canterbury should hold ecclesiastical
jurisdiction over the whole Colony of New York. It is very doubtful,
however, if the Archbishop of Canterbury had ever heard of the
Niagara--the first English translation of Hennepin did not appear for
fourteen years after this date; and nothing is more unlikely than that
the Senecas who visited the Niagara at this period, or even the Dutch
and English traders who gave them rum for beaver-skins, had ever heard
of the Archbishop of Canterbury, or cared a copper for his
ecclesiastical jurisdiction, either on the Niagara or even in the
settlements on the Hudson. In the New York Colony, and afterward State,
the legal discrimination against Catholics continued down to 1784, when
the law which condemned Catholic priests to imprisonment or even death
was repealed. At the date of its repeal there was not a Catholic
congregation in the State. Those Catholics who were among the pioneer
settlers of Western New York had to go as far east as Albany to perform
their religious duties or get their children baptized. Four years
later--in 1788--our region was included in the newly-formed diocese of
Baltimore. In 1808 we came into the new diocese of New York. Not until
1821 do we find record of the visit of a priest to Buffalo. In 1829 the
Church acquired its first property here--through its benefactor whose
name and memory are preserved by one of our noblest institutions--Louis
Le Couteulx--and the first Buffalo parish was established under the Rev.
Nicholas Mertz.
We are coming very close to the present; and yet still later, in 1847,
when the diocese of Buffalo was formed, there were but sixteen priests
in the sixteen great counties which constituted it. It is superfluous to
contrast that time with the present. There is nothing more striking, to
the student of the history and development of our region during the last
half century, than the increase of the Catholic Church--in parishes and
schools, in means of propaganda, in material wealth with its vast
resources and power for good, and especially in that personal zeal and
unflagging devotion which know no limit and no exhaustion, and are drawn
from the same source of strength that inspired and sustained Brebeuf and
Chaumonot and their fellow-heroes of the cross on the banks of the
Niagara.
The Paschal of the Great Pinch.
THE PASCHAL OF THE GREAT PINCH.
_An Episode in the History of Fort Niagara; being an Extract from
the hitherto unknown Memoirs of the Chevalier De Tregay, Lieutenant
under the Sieur de Troyes, commanding at Fort Denonville (now
called Niagara), in the Year of Starvation 1687; with Captain
Desbergeres at that remote fortress from the joyfull Easter of 1688
till its abandonment; Soldier of His Excellency the Sr. de Brissay,
Marquis de Denonville, Governor and Lieutenant General in New
France; and humble Servitor of His Serene Majesty Louis XIV._
It has been my lot to suffer in many far parts of the earth; to bleed a
little and go hungry for the King; to lie freezing for fame and
France--and gain nothing thereby but a distemper; but so it is to be a
soldier.
And I have seen trouble in my day. I have fought in Flanders on an empty
stomach, and have burned my brain among the Spaniards so that I could
neither fight nor run away; but of all the heavy employment I ever knew,
naught can compare with what befel in the remote parts of New France,
where I was with the troops that the Marquis de Denonville took through
the wilderness into the cantons of the Iroquois, and afterwards employed
to build a stockade and cabins at the mouth of the Strait of Niagara, on
the east side, in the way where they go a beaver-hunting. "Fort
Denonville," the Sieur de Brissay decreed it should be called, for he
held great hopes of the service which it should do him against both the
Iroquois and the English; but now that he has fallen into the disfavor
that has ever been the reward of faithful service in this accursed land,
his name is no more given even to that unhappy spot, but rather it is
called Fort Niagara.
There were some hundreds of us all told that reached that fair plateau,
after we left the river of the Senecas. It was mid-summer of the year of
grace 1687, and we made at first a pleasant camp, somewhat overlooking
the great lake, while to the west side of the point the great river made
good haven for our batteaux and canoes. There was fine stir of air at
night, so that we slept wholesomely, and the wounded began to mend at a
great rate. And of a truth, tho' I have adventured in many lands, I have
seen no spot which in all its demesne offered a fairer prospect to a man
of taste. On the north of us, like the great sea itself, lay the Lake
Ontario, which on a summer morning, when touched by a little wind, with
the sun aslant, was like the lapis lazuli I have seen in the King's
palace--very blue, yet all bright with white and gold. The river behind
the camp ran mightily strong, yet for the most part glassy and green
like the precious green-stone the lapidaries call verd-antique. Behind
us to the south lay the forest, and four leagues away rose the triple
mountains wherein is the great fall; but these are not such mountains as
we have in Italy and Spain, being more of the nature of a great
table-land, making an exceeding hard portage to reach the Strait of
Erie above the great fall.
It was truly a most fit place for a fort, and the Marquis de Denonville
let none in his command rest day or night until we had made a
fortification, in part of earth, surmounted by palisades which the
soldiers cut in the woods. There was much of hazard and fatigue in this
work, for the whole plain about the fort had no trees; so that some of
us went into the forest along the shore to the eastward and some cut
their sticks on the west side of the river. It was hard work, getting
them up the high bank; but so pressed were we, somewhat by fear of an
attack, and even more by the zeal of our commander, that in three days
we had built there a pretty good fort with four bastions, where we put
two great guns and some pattareras; and we had begun to build some
cabins on the four sides of the square in the middle of it. And as we
worked, our number was constantly diminished; for the Sieurs Du Luth and
Durantaye, with that one-handed Chevalier de Tonty of whom they tell so
much, and our allies the savages who had come from the Illinois to join
the Governor in his assault upon the Iroquois, as soon as their wounded
were able to be moved, took themselves off up the Niagara and over the
mountain portage I have spoken of; for they kept a post and place of
trade at the Detroit, and at Michillimackinac. And then presently the
Marquis himself and all whom he would let go sailed away around the
great lake for Montreal. But he ordered that an hundred, officers and
men, stay behind to hold this new Fort Denonville. He had placed in
command over us the Sieur de Troyes, of whom it would not become me to
speak in any wise ill.
There were sour looks and sad, as the main force marched to the
batteaux. But the Marquis did not choose to heed anything of that. We
were put on parade for the embarkation--though we made a sorry show of
it, for there were even then more rags than lace or good leather--and
His Excellency spoke a farewell word in the hearing of us all.
"You are to complete your quarters with all convenient expediency," he
said to De Troyes, who stood attentive, before us. "There will be no
lack of provision sent. You have here in these waters the finest fish in
the world. There is naught to fear from these Iroquois wasps--have we
not just torn to pieces their nests?"
He said this with a fine bravado, though methought he lacked somewhat of
sincerity; for surely scattered wasps might prove troublesome enough to
those of us who stayed behind. But De Troyes made no reply, and saluted
gravely. And so, with a jaunty word about the pleasant spot where we
were to abide, and a light promise to send fresh troops in the spring,
the General took himself off, and we were left behind to look out for
the wasps. As the boats passed the sandbar and turned to skirt the lake
shore to the westward, we gave them a salvo of musketry; but De Troyes
raised his hand--although the great Marquis was yet in sight and almost
in hailing distance--and forbade another discharge.
"Save your powder," was all he said; and the very brevity of it seemed
to mean more than many words, and put us into a low mood for that whole
day.
Now for a time that followed there was work enough to keep each man
busy, which is best for all who are in this trade of war, especially in
the wilderness. It was on the third of August that M. de Brissay left
us, he having sent off some of the militia ahead of him; and he bade M.
de Vaudreuil stay behind for a space, to help the Sieur de Troyes
complete the fort and cabins, and this he did right ably, for as all
Canada and the King himself know, M. de Vaudreuil was a man of exceeding
great energy and resources in these matters. There was a vast deal of
fetching and carrying, of hewing and sawing and framing. And
notwithstanding that the sun of that climate was desperately hot the men
worked with good hearts, so that there was soon finished an excellent
lodgment for the commandant; with a chimney of sticks and clay, and
boards arranged into a sort of bedstead; and this M. de Troyes shared
with M. de Vaudreuil, until such time as the latter gentleman quit us.
There were three other cabins built, with chimneys, doors and little
windows. We also constructed a baking-house with a large oven and
chimney, partly covered with boards and the remainder with hurdles and
clay. We also built an extensive framed building without chimney, and a
large store-house with pillars eight feet high, and made from time to
time yet other constructions for the men and goods--though, _Dieu
defend_! we had spare room for both, soon enough. In the square in the
midst of the buildings we digged a well; and although the water was
sweet enough, yet from the first, for lack of proper curbing and
protection, it was ever much roiled and impure when we drew it, a
detriment alike to health and cookery.
M. de Vaudreuil seeing us at last well roofed, and having directed for a
little the getting of a store of firewood, made his adieux. Even then,
in those fine August days, a spirit of discontent was among us, and more
than one spark of a soldier, who at the first camp had been hot upon
staying on the Niagara, sought now to be taken in M. de Vaudreuil's
escort. But that gentleman replied, that he wished to make a good report
of us all to the Governor, and that, for his part, he hoped he might
come to us early in the spring, with the promised detachment of troops.
And so we parted.
Now the spring before, when we had all followed the Marquis de
Denonville across Lake Ontario to harass the cantons of the Iroquois,
this establishment of a post on the Niagara was assuredly a part of that
gentleman's plan. It is not for me, who am but a mere lieutenant of
marines, to show how a great commander should conduct his expeditions;
yet I do declare that while there was no lack of provision made for
killing such of the savages as would permit it, there was next to none
for maintaining troops who were to be left penned up in the savages'
country. We who were left at Fort Denonville had but few mattocks or
even axes. Of ammunition there was none too much. In the Senecas'
country we had destroyed thousands of minots[6] of corn, but had brought
along scarce a week's rations of it to this corner. We had none of us
gone a-soldiering with our pockets full of seed, and even if we had
brought ample store of corn and pumpkin seed, of lentils and salad
plants, the season was too late to have done much in gardening. We made
some feeble attempts at it; but no rain fell, the earth baked under the
sun so hard that great cracks came in it; and what few shoots of corn
and pumpkin thrust upward through this parched soil, withered away
before any strengthening juices came in them. To hunt far from the fort
we durst not, save in considerable parties; so that if we made ourselves
safe from the savages, we also made every other living thing safe
against us. To fish was well nigh our only recourse; but although many
of our men labored diligently at it, they met with but indifferent
return.
Thus it was that our most ardent hopes, our very life itself, hung upon
the coming of the promised supplies. There was joy at the fort when at
length the sail of the little bark was seen; even De Troyes, who had
grown exceeding grave and melancholy, took on again something of his
wonted spirit. But we were not quite yet to be succored, for it was the
season of the most light and trifling airs, so that the bark for two
days hung idly on the shining lake, some leagues away from the mouth of
the river, while we idled and fretted like children, impatient for her
coming. When once we had her within the bar, there was no time lost in
unlading. It was a poor soldier indeed who could not work to secure the
comfort of his own belly; and the store was so ample that we felt secure
for the winter, come what might. The bark that fetched these things had
been so delayed by the calms, that she weighed and sailed with the first
favoring breeze; and it was not until her sail had fall'n below the
horizon that we fairly had sight or smell of what she had brought.
From the first the stores proved bad; still, we made shift to use the
best, eked out with what the near-by forest and river afforded. For many
weeks we saw no foes. There was little work to do, and the men idled
through the days, with no word on their lips but to complain of the food
and wish for spring. When the frosts began to fall we had a more
vigorous spell of it; but now for the first time appeared the Iroquois
wasps. One of our parties, which had gone toward the great fall of the
Niagara, lost two men; those who returned reported that their comrades
were taken all unawares by the savages. Another party, seeking game to
the eastward where a stream cuts through the high bank on its way to the
lake,[7] never came back at all. Here we found their bodies and buried
them; but their scalps, after the manner of these people, had been
taken.
Christmas drew on, but never was a sorrier season kept by soldiers of
France. De Troyes had fallen ill. Naught ailed him that we could see
save low spirits and a thinning of the blood, which made him too weak to
walk. The Father Jean de Lamberville, who had stayed with us, and who
would have been our hope and consolation in those days, very early fell
desperate ill of a distemper, so that the men had not the help of his
ministrations and holy example. Others there were who either from
feebleness or lack of discipline openly refused their daily duty and
went unpunished. We had fair store of brandy; and on Christmas eve those
of us who still held some soul for sport essayed to lighten the hour. We
brewed a comfortable draught, built the blaze high, for the frosts were
getting exceeding sharp, gathered as many as could be had of officers
and worthy men into our cabin, and made brave to sing the songs of
France. And now here was a strange thing: that while the hardiest and
soundest amongst us had made good show of cheer, had eaten the vile food
and tried to speak lightly of our ills, no sooner did we hear our own
voices in the songs that carried us back to the pleasantries of our
native land, than we fell a-sobbing and weeping like children; which
weakness I attribute to the distemper that was already in our blood.
For the days that followed I have no heart to set down much. We never
went without the palisades except well guarded to fetch firewood. This
duty indeed made the burden of every day. A prodigious store of wood was
needed, for the cold surpassed anything I had ever known. The snow fell
heavily, and there were storms when for days the gale drave straight
across our bleak plateau. There was no blood in us to withstand the icy
blasts. Do what we would the chill of the tomb was in the cabins where
the men lay. The wood-choppers one day, facing such a storm, fell in the
deep drifts just outside the gate. None durst go out to them. The second
day the wolves found them--and we saw it all!
There was not a charge of powder left in the fort. There was not a
mouthful of fit food. The biscuits had from the first been full of worms
and weevils. The salted meat, either from the admixture of sea-water
through leaky casks, or from other cause, was rotten beyond the power
even of a starving man to hold.
_Le scorbut_ broke out. I had seen it on shipboard, and knew the signs.
De Troyes now seldom left his cabin; and when, in the way of duty, I
made my devoirs, and he asked after the men, I made shift to hide the
truth. But it could not be for long.
"My poor fellows," he sighed one day, as he turned feebly on his couch
of planks, "it must be with all as it is with me--see, look here, De
Tregay, do you know the sign?" and he bared his shrunken arm and side.
Indeed I knew the signs--the dry, pallid skin, with the purple blotches
and indurations. He saw I was at a loss for words.
"_Sang de Dieu!_" he cried, "Is this what soldiers of France must come
to, for the glory of"----. He stopped short, as if lacking spirit to go
on. "Now I bethink me," he added, in a melancholy voice, "it _is_ what
soldiers must come to." Then, after a while he asked:
"How many dead today, De Tregay?"
How many dead! From a garrison of gallant men-at-arms we had become a
charnel-house. In six weeks we had lost sixty men. From a hundred at the
beginning of autumn, we were now scarce forty, and February was not
gone. A few of us, perhaps with stouter stomachs than the rest, did all
the duty of the post. We brought the firewood and we buried the
dead--picking the frozen clods with infinite toil, that we might lay the
bones of our comrades beyond the reach of wolves. Sometimes it was the
scurvy, sometimes it was the cold, sometimes, methinks, it was naught
but a weak will--or as we say, the broken heart; but it mattered not,
the end was the same. More than twenty died in March; and although we
were now but a handful of skeletons and accustomed to death, I had no
thought of sorrow or of grief, so dulled had my spirit become, until one
morning I found the brave De Troyes drawing with frightful pains his
dying breath. With the name of a maid he loved upon his lips, the light
went out; and with heavy heart I buried him in that crowded ground, and
fain would have lain down with him.
And now with our commander under the snow, what little spirit still
burned in the best of us seemed to die down. I too bore the signs of the
distemper, yet to no great extent, for of all the garrison I had labored
by exercise to keep myself wholesome, and in the woods I had tasted of
barks and buds and roots of little herbs, hoping to find something akin
in its juices to the _herbe de scorbut_[8] which I have known to cure
sick sailors. But now I gave over these last efforts for life; for,
thought I, spring is tardy in these latitudes. Many weeks must yet pass
before the noble Marquis at Montreal (where comforts are) will care to
send the promised troop. And the Western savages, our allies the
Illinois, the Ottawais, the Miamis, were they not coming to succor us
here and to raid the Iroquois cantons? But of what account is the
savage's word!
So I thought, and I turned myself on my pallet. I listened. There was no
sound in all the place save the beating of a sleet. "It is appointed," I
said within me. "Let the end come." And presently, being numb with the
cold, I thought I was on a sunny hillside in Anjou. It was the time of
the grape-harvest, and the smell of the vines, laughter and sunshine
filled the air. Young lads and maids, playmates of my boyhood days, came
and took me by the hand....
A twinge of pain made the vision pass. I opened my eyes upon a huge
savage, painted and bedaubed, after their fashion. It was the grip of
his vast fist that had brought me back from Anjou.
"The Iroquois, then," I thought, "have learned of our extremity, and
have broken in, to finish all. So much the better," and I was for
sinking back upon the boards, when the savage took from a little pouch a
handful of the parched corn which they carry on their expeditions.
"Eat," he said, in the language of the Miamis. And then I knew that
relief had come--and I knew no more for a space.
Now this was Michitonka himself, who had led his war party from beyond
Lake Erie, where the Chevalier de Tonty and Du Luth were, to see how we
fared at Fort Denonville, and to make an expedition against the
Senecas--of whom we saw no more, from the time the Miamis arrived. There
were of all our garrison but twelve not dead, and among those who threw
off the distemper was the Father de Lamberville. His recovery gave us
the greatest joy. He lay for many weeks at the very verge of the grave,
and it was marvelous to all to see his skin, which had been so empurpled
and full of malignant humors, come wholesome and fair again. I have
often remarked, in this hard country, that of all Europeans the Fathers
of the Holy Orders may be brought nearest to death, and yet regain their
wonted health. They have the same prejudice for life that the wildest
savage has. But as for the rest of us, who are neither savage nor holy,
it is by a slim chance that we live at all.
Now the Father, and two or three of the others who had the strength to
risk it, set out with a part of Michitonka's people to Cataracouy[9] and
Montreal, to carry the news of our extremity. And on a soft April day as
we looked over lake, we saw a sail; and we knew that we had kept the
fort until the relief company was sent as had been commanded. But it had
been a great pinch.
Now I am come to that which after all I chiefly set out to write down;
for I have ever held that great woes should be passed over with few
words, but it is meet to dwell upon the hour of gladness. And this hour
was now arrived, when we saw approach the new commandant, the Sieur
Desbergeres, captain of one of the companies of the Detachment of the
Marine, and with him the Father Milet, of the Society of Jesus. There
was a goodly company, whose names are well writ on the history of this
New France: the Sieurs De la Mothe, La Rabelle, Demuratre de Clerin and
de Gemerais, and others, besides a host of fine fellows of the common
rank; with fresh food that meant life to us.
Of all who came that April day, it was the Father Milet who did the
most. The very morning that he landed, we knelt about him at mass; and
scarce had he rested in his cabin than he marked a spot in the midst of
the square, where a cross should stand, and bade as many as could, get
about the hewing of it; and although I was yet feeble and might rest as
I liked, I chose to share in the work, for so I found my pleasure. A
fair straight oak was felled and well hewn, and with infinite toil the
timber was taken within the palisades and further dressed; and while the
carpenters toiled to mortise the cross-piece and fasten it with pins,
Father Milet himself traced upon the arms the symbols for the legend:
Regnat, Vincit, Imperat Christus.
And these letters were well cut into the wood, in the midst of them
being the sign of the Sacred Heart. We had it well made, and a place dug
for it, on a Thursday; and on the next morning, which was Good Friday,
the reverend Father placed his little portable altar in the midst of the
square, where we all, officers and men, and even some of the Miamis who
were yet with us, assembled for the mass. Then we raised the great cross
and planted it firmly in the midst of the little square. The service of
the blessing of it lay hold of my mind mightily, for my fancy was that
this great sign of victory had sprung from the midst of the graves where
De Troyes and four score of my comrades lay; and being in this tender
mood (for I was still weak in body) the words which the Father read from
his breviary seemed to rest the more clearly in my mind.
"_Adjutorium nostrum in nomine Domini._" Father Milet had a good voice,
with a sort of tenderness in it, so that we were every one disposed to
such silence and attention, that I could even hear the little waves
lapping the shore below the fort. And when he began with the
"_Oramus_"--"_Rogamus te Domine sancte Pater omnipotens_,"--I was that
moved, by the joy of it, and my own memories, that I wept--and I a
soldier!
It may be believed that the Sunday which followed, which was the
Paschal, was kept by us with such worship and rejoicing as had never yet
been known in those remote parts. Holy men had been on that river
before, it is true; but none had abode there for long, nor had any set
up so great a cross, nor had there ever such new life come to men as we
knew at Fort Denonville that Easter.
For a space, all things went well. What with the season (for spring ever
inspires men to new undertakings) and the bitter lessons learned in the
great pinch of the past winter, we were no more an idle set, but kept
all at work, and well. Yet the Iroquois pestered us vastly, being set on
thereto by the English, who claimed this spot. And in September there
came that pilot Maheut, bringing his bark La General over the shoal at
the river's mouth all unexpected; and she was scarce anchored in the
little roadstead than Desbergeres knew he was to abandon all. It was
cause of chagrin to the great Marquis, I make no doubt, thus to drop the
prize he had so tried to hold; but some of us in the fort had no stomach
for another winter on the Niagara, and we made haste to execute the
orders which the Marquis de Denonville had sent. We put the guns on
board La General. We set the gate open, and tore down the rows of pales
on the south and east sides of the square. Indeed the wind had long ago
begun this work, so that towards the lake the pales (being but little
set in the earth) had fallen or leaned over, so they could readily have
been scaled, or broken through. But as the order was, we left the cabins
and quarters standing, with doors ajar, to welcome who might come,
Iroquois or wolf, for there was naught within. But Father Milet took
down from above the door of his cabin the little sun dial. "The shadow
of the great cross falls divers ways," was his saying.
Early the next morning, being the 15th of September, of the year 1688,
being ready for the embarkation, Father Milet summoned us to the last
mass he might say in the place. It was a sad morning, for the clouds
hung heavy; the lake was of a somber and forbidding cast, and the very
touch in the air forebode autumnal gales. As we knelt around the cross
for the last time, the ensign brought the standards which Desbergeres
had kept, and holding the staves, knelt also. Certain Miamis, too, who
were about to make the Niagara portage, stayed to see what the priest
might do. And at the end of the office Father Milet did an uncommon
thing, for he was mightily moved. He turned from us toward the cross,
and throwing wide his arms spoke the last word--"Amen."
There were both gladness and sorrow in our hearts as we embarked. Lake
and sky took on the hue of lead, foreboding storm. We durst carry but
little sail, and at the sunset hour were scarce a league off shore. As
it chanced, Father Milet and I stood together on the deck and gazed
through the gloom toward that dark coast. While we thus stood, there
came a rift betwixt the banked clouds to the west, so that the sun, just
as it slipped from sight, lighted those Niagara shores, and we saw but
for an instant, above the blackness and the desolation, the great cross
as in fire or blood gleam red.
With Bolton at Fort Niagara.
WITH BOLTON AT FORT NIAGARA.
One pleasant September day in 1897 it was my good fortune, under expert
guidance, to follow for a little the one solitary trail made by the
American patriots in Western New York during the Revolutionary War, the
one expedition of our colonial forces approaching this region during
that period. This was the famous "raid" led by Gen. John Sullivan in the
summer of 1779. Our quest took us up the long hill slope west of Conesus
Lake, in what is now the town of Groveland, Livingston Co., to a
spot--among the most memorable in the annals of Western New York, yet
unmarked and known to but a few--where a detachment of Sullivan's army,
under Lieut. Boyd, were waylaid and massacred by the Indians. It was on
the 13th of September that this tragedy occurred. Two days later Gen.
Sullivan, having accomplished the main purpose of his raid--the
destruction of Indian villages and crops--turned back towards
Pennsylvania, returning to Easton, whence the expedition had started. He
had come within about eighty miles of the Niagara. "Though I had it not
in command," wrote Gen. Sullivan in his report to the Secretary of War,
"I should have ventured to have paid [Fort] Niagara a visit, had I been
supplied with fifteen days' provisions in addition to what I had, which
I am persuaded from the bravery and ardor of our troops would have
fallen into our hands."[10] This was the nearest approach to any attempt
made by the Americans to enter this region during that war.
The events of Sullivan's expedition are well known. Few episodes of the
Revolution are more fully recorded. But what is the reverse of the
picture? What lay at the other side of this Western New York wilderness
which Sullivan failed to penetrate? What was going on, up and down the
Niagara, and on Buffalo Creek, during those momentous years? We know
that the region was British, that old Fort Niagara was its garrison, the
principal rendezvous of the Indians and the base from which scalping
parties set out to harry the frontier settlements. The most dreadful
frontier tragedies of the war--Wyoming, Cherry Valley, and others--were
planned here and carried out with British cooeperation. But who were the
men and what were the incidents of the time, upon our Niagara frontier?
So far as I am aware, that period is for the most part a blank in our
histories. One may search the books in vain for any adequate
narrative--indeed for any but the most meager data--of the history of
the Niagara region during the Revolution. The materials are not lacking,
they are in fact abundant. In this paper I undertake only to give an
inkling of the character of events in this region during that grave
period in our nation's history.[11]
In 1778, Colonel Haldimand, afterward Sir Frederick, succeeded Gen. Guy
Carleton in the command of the British forces in Canada. He was
Commander in Chief, and Governor of Canada, until his recall in 1784.
Lord North was England's Prime Minister, Lord George Germaine in charge
of American affairs in the Cabinet. Haldimand took up his residence at
Quebec, and therefrom, for a decade, administered the affairs of the
Canadian frontier with zeal and adroitness. He was a thorough soldier,
as his letters show. He was also an adept in the treatment of matters
which, like the retention by the British of the frontier posts for
thirteen years after they had been ceded to the Americans by treaty,
called for dogged determination, veiled behind diplomatic courtesies.
The troops which he commanded were scattered from the mouth of the St.
Lawrence to Lake Michigan; but to no part of this long line of
wilderness defense--a line which was substantially the enemy's
frontier--did he pay more constant attention than to Fort Niagara. There
were good reasons for this. Fort Niagara was not only the key to the
upper lakes, the base of supplies for Detroit, Michillimackinac and
minor posts, but it had long been an important trading post and the
principal rendezvous of the Six Nations, upon whose peculiarly efficient
services against the American frontiers Sir Frederick relied scarcely
less than he did upon the British troops themselves. It was, therefore,
with no ordinary solicitude that he made his appointments for Niagara.
I cannot state positively the names of all officers in command at Fort
Niagara from the time war was begun, down to 1777. Lieut. Lernault,
afterwards at Detroit, was here for a time; but about the spring of '77
we find Fort Niagara put under the command of Lieut. Col. Mason Bolton,
of the 34th Royal Artillery. He had then seen some years of service in
America; had campaigned in Florida and the West Indies; had been sent to
Mackinac and as far west as the Illinois; and it was no slight tribute
to his ability and fidelity, when Haldimand put the Niagara frontier
into his hands. Here, for over three years, he was the chief in command.
In military rank, even if in nothing else, he was the principal man in
this region during the crucial period of the Revolution. He commanded
the garrison at Fort Niagara, and its dependencies at Schlosser and Fort
Erie. Buffalo was then unthought of--it was merely Te-hos-e-ro-ron, the
place of the basswoods; but at the Indian villages farther up Buffalo
Creek, which came into existence in 1780, the name of Col. Bolton stood
for the highest military authority of the region. And yet, incredible as
it may seem, after all these years in which--to adapt Carlyle's
phrase--the Torch of History has been so assiduously brandished about, I
do not know of any printed book which offers any information about Col.
Mason Bolton or the life he led here. Indeed, with one or two
exceptions, in which he is barely alluded to, I think all printed
literature may be searched in vain for so much as a mention of his name.
Other chief men of this frontier, at the period we are considering, were
Col. Guy Johnson, Superintendent of Indian Affairs; Sir John Johnson,
son of the Sir William who captured Fort Niagara from the French in
1759; Col. John Butler, of the Queen's Rangers; his son Walter;
Sayenqueraghta, the King of the Senecas; Rowland Montour, his half-breed
son-in-law; and Brant, the Mohawk hero, who, equipped with a New England
schooling and enlightened by a trip to England, here returned to lead
out scalping parties in the British interests.
Col. Bolton had been for some time without authentic news of the enemy,
when on the morning of December 14, 1777, the little garrison was thrown
into unwonted activity by the arrival of Capt. La Mothe, who reported
that Gen. Howe had taken Philadelphia, and that the rebels had
"sustained an incredible loss." By a forced march of Howe, La Mothe
averred, Gen. Washington had been defeated, "with 11,000 rebels killed,
wounded and prisoners." Two days later the excitement was increased by
the arrival at the fort of some Delaware Indians, who brought the great
news that Washington was killed and his army totally routed. "I had a
meeting of the chiefs of the Six Nations," wrote Bolton to Gen.
Carleton, "about an hour after the express arrived and told them the
news. They seemed extremely pleased and have been in good temper ever
since their arrival." Oddly enough, this news was confirmed by a soldier
of the 7th Regiment, who had been taken prisoner by the Americans, but
had escaped and made his way to Niagara. He further embellished the
report by declaring that 9,000 men under Lord Percy defeated 13,000
rebels at Bear's Hill on December 20th, under Washington, that Gates was
sent for to take the command when Washington was killed, and that 7,000
volunteers from Ireland had joined Howe's army. Washington at this time,
the reader will remember, had gone into winter quarters with his army at
Valley Forge.
There were 2,300 Indians at Fort Niagara at this period, all making
perpetual demands for beef, flour and rum. The license of the jubilee
over Washington's death probably was limited only by the scantiness of
provisions and the impossibility of adding to the store. Cold weather
shut down on the establishment, the vessels were laid up, and all winter
long Col. Bolton and his men had no word contradicting the report of
Washington's death. As late as April 8th, the following spring, he wrote
to Gen. Carleton that "all accounts confirm Washington being killed and
his army defeated in December last, and that Gates was sent for to take
the command."
The British early were apprised of Sullivan's intended raid, and
although powerless to prevent it, kept well posted as to its progress.
The various parties which Sullivan encountered, were directed from Fort
Niagara. "Since the rebels visit the Indian country," wrote Gen.
Haldimand to Sir John Johnson, September 14, 1779, "I am happy they are
advancing so far. They can never reach Niagara and their difficulties
and danger of retreat will, in proportion as they advance, increase."
Again he wrote twelve days later: "You will be able to make your way to
Niagara, and if the rebels should be encouraged to advance as far as
that place, I am convinced that few of them will escape from famine or
the sword. All in my power to do for you is to push up provisions, which
shall be done with the utmost vigor, while the river and lake remain
navigable, although it may throw me into great distress in this part of
the province, should anything happen to prevent the arrival of the fall
victuallers." There was however genuine alarm at Fort Niagara, and even
Sir Frederick himself, though he wrote so confidently to Bolton, in his
letters to the Ministry expressed grave apprehensions of what might
happen.
What did happen was bad enough for British interests, for though the
Americans turned back, the raid had driven in upon Bolton a horde of
frightened, hungry and irresponsible Indians, who had to be fed at the
King's expense and were a source of unmeasured concern to the overworked
commandant, notwithstanding the independent organization of the Indian
Department which was effected.
To arrive at a just idea of conditions hereabouts at this period, we
must keep in mind the relation of the fluctuating population, Indians
and whites, to the uncertain and often inadequate food supply.
Fort Niagara at this time--the fall of '78--was a fortification 1,100
yards in circumference, with five bastions and two blockhouses. Capt.
John Johnson thought 1,000 men were needed to defend it; "the present
strength," he wrote, "amounting to no more than 200 rank and file,
including fifteen men of the Royal Artillery and the sick, a number
barely sufficient to defend the outworks (if they were in a state of
defense) and return the necessary sentries, should the place be infested
by a considerable force.... With a garrison of 500 or a less number, it
is impregnable against all the savages in America, but if a strong body
of troops with artillery should move this way, I believe no engineer who
has ever seen these works will say it can hold out any considerable
time."
On May 1st, 1778, there had been in the garrison at Fort Niagara 311
men. Half a dozen more were stationed at Fort Schlosser, and thirty-two
at Fort Erie, a total of 349, of whom 255 were reported as fit for duty.
At this time Maj. Butler's Rangers, numbering 106, had gone on "an
expedition with the Indians towards the settlements of Pennsylvania or
New York, whichever he finds most practicable and advantageous to the
King's service." These raids from Fort Niagara were far more frequent
than one would infer from the histories--even from the American
histories whose authors are not to be suspected of purposely minimizing
either their number or effect. But it appears from the records that not
infrequently the expeditions accomplished nothing of more consequence
than to steal stock. Horses, cattle and sheep were in more than one
instance driven away from settlements far down on the Mohawk or
Susquehanna, and brought back alive or dead along the old trails, to
Fort Niagara.
To illustrate the methods of the time: In a report to Brig. Gen. Powell,
Maj. Butler wrote: "In the spring of 1778 I found it absolutely
requisite for the good of His Majesty's service, with the consent and
approbation of Lt. Col. Bolton, and on the application of the chiefs and
warriors of the five united nations ..., to proceed to the frontiers of
the colonies in rebellion, with as many officers and men of my corps as
were then raised, in order to protect the Indian settlements and to
annoy the enemy." At this time many of his men were new recruits from
the colonies, sons or heads of Loyalist--or as we used to say, on this
side the border, of Tory--families. As they approached American frontier
settlements, the loyalty to King George of some of his men became
suspicious, so that Butler issued a proclamation that all deserters, if
apprehended, were to be shot. In the letter just quoted from he reports
that this order had a good effect. Many curious circumstances arose at
the time, due to the British or American allegiance of men who before
the war had been friendly neighbors, but who now met as hostiles, as
captor and captive, sometimes as victor and victim. There was a constant
flight, by one route and another, of Loyalist refugees to Fort Niagara.
Thus, by a return of Feb. 12, 1779, 1,346 people were drawing rations
from the stores of that place, of whom sixty-four were "distressed
families," that is, Tories who had fled from the colonies (mostly from
the Mohawk Valley); and 445 Indians. The war parties left early in the
spring, and during the summer the supply boats could get up from the
lower stations. Then came that march of destruction up the Genesee
Valley; winter shut down on lake and river communication, and the most
distressed period the frontier had known under British rule set in. In
October, immediately after the invasion, Col. Bolton wrote (I quote
briefly from a very full report): "Joseph Brant ... assures me that if
500 men had joined the Rangers in time, there is no doubt that instead
of 300, at least 1,000 warriors would have turned out, and with that
force he is convinced that Mr. Sullivan would have had some reason to
repent of his expedition; but the Indians not being supported as they
expected, thought of nothing more than carrying off their families, and
we had at this Post the 21st of last month 5,036 to supply with
provisions, and notwithstanding a number of parties have been sent out
since, we have still on the ground 3,678 to maintain. I am convinced
your Excellency will not be surprised, if I am extremely alarmed, for to
support such a multitude I think will be absolutely impossible. I have
requested of Major Butler to try his utmost to prevail on the Indians
whose villages have been destroyed to go down to Montreal for the
winter, where, I have assured him, they would be well taken care of; and
to inform all the rest who have not suffered by the enemy that they must
return home and take care of their corn."
Neither plan worked as hoped for. It was difficult to get the Indians to
consent to go down the river, or even to Carleton Island; and as
Sullivan had destroyed every village save two, few of the Senecas could
be induced to return into the Genesee country. Bolton's urgent appeals
for extra provisions were also doomed to disappointment, owing to the
lateness of the season or the lack of transports.
The winter after Sullivan's raid, Guy Johnson distributed clothing to
more than 3,000 Indians at Fort Niagara. But the cost of clothing them
was trifling compared with the cost of feeding them. Expeditions against
the distant American settlements were planned, not more through the
desire for retaliation, than from the necessity of reducing the number
of dependents on Fort Niagara. When the inroads on provisions grew
serious, the Indians were encouraged to go on the war-path. But so
exceedingly severe was the winter, so deep was the snow on the trails,
that not until the middle of February could any parties be induced to
set out. The number camped around the fort, consuming the King's pork,
beef, flour and rum, rose as we have seen, to more than 5,000. Many
starved and many froze.
Much could be said regarding the British policy of dealing with the
Indians at Fort Niagara, but I may only touch upon the subject at this
time. Haldimand, and behind him the British Ministry, placed great
reliance upon them. The uniform instruction was that the Indians should
be maintained as allies. On April 10, 1778, Lord George Germaine wrote
to Gen. Haldimand that the designs of the rebels against Niagara and
Detroit were not likely to be successful as long as the Six Nations
continued faithful. Presents, honors, and the full license of the
tomahawk and scalping-knife were allowed them. With a view to promoting
their fidelity, Joseph Brant was made a colonel. Significant, too, was
the settling of a generous allowance for life upon Brant's sister, Sir
William Johnson's consort; which act was approved, about this time, by
the august council at Whitehall.
The British watched the state of the Indian mind as the sailor watches
his barometer at the coming of a storm. And the Indian mind, though
always cunning, was sometimes childlike in the directness and simplicity
of its conclusions. The constant flight to Fort Niagara of refugee
Tories was remarked by the savages, and in turn noted and reported to
Gen. Haldimand. "The frequent passing of white people to Niagara," wrote
Capt. John Johnson to Gen. Carleton, October 6, 1778, "is much taken
note of by the Indians, who say they are running away and that they (the
Tories) have begun the quarrel and leave them (the Indians) to defend
it." However, Johnson counted on being able to change their minds, for
he added: "I hope in my next to inform you of giving the rebels an
eternal thrashing."
The usual British good sense--the national tradesman's instinct--seems
to have been temporarily suspended, held in abeyance, at the demands of
these Indians. In his report of May 12, '78, Col. Bolton writes that he
has approved bills for nearly L18,000 "for sundries furnished savages
which Maj. Butler thought absolutely necessary, notwithstanding all the
presents sent to their posts last year; 2,700 being assembled at a time
when I little expected such a number, obliged me to send to Detroit for
a supply of provisions, and to buy up all the cattle, etc., that could
possibly be procured, otherwise this garrison must have been distressed
or the savages offended, and of course, I suppose, would have joined the
rebels. Even after all that was done for them they scarce seemed
satisfied." In June he writes that only eight out of twenty puncheons of
rum ordered for Fort Niagara had been received, and that "much wine has
been given to the savages that was intended for this post."
One reads in this old correspondence, with mingled amusement and
amazement, of the marvelous attentions paid these wily savages.
Childlike, whatever they saw in the cargoes of the merchants, they
wanted, and England humored and pampered them, lest they transfer their
affections. We have Guy Johnson's word for it, under date of Niagara,
July 3, 1780, that "many of the Indians will no longer wear tinsel lace,
and are become good judges of gold and silver. They frequently demand
and have received wine, tea, coffee, candles and many such articles, and
they are frequently nice in the choice of the finest black and other
cloth for blankets, and the best linnen and cambrick with other things
needless to enumerate.... The Six Nations are not so fond of gaudy
colors as of good and substantial things, but they are passionately fond
of silver ornaments and neat arrows." Elsewhere in these letters a
requisition for port wine is explained on the ground that it was
demanded by the chiefs when they were sick--dainty treatment, truly, for
stalwart savages whose more accustomed diet was cornmeal and water, and
who could feast, when fortune favored, on the reeking entrails of a dead
horse.
Now and then, it is true, advantages were taken of the Indians in ways
which, presumably, it was thought they would not detect; all, we must
grant, in the interest of economy. One was in the matter of powder. The
Indians were furnished with a grade inferior to the garrison powder.
This was shown by a series of tests made at Fort Niagara by order of
Brig. Gen. Powell--Col. Bolton's successor--on July 10, 1782. We may
suppose it to have been an agreeable summer day, that there was leisure
at the fort to indulge in experiments, and that there were no astute
Indians on hand to be unduly edified by the result. At Gen. Powell's
order an eight-inch mortar was elevated to forty-five degrees, and six
rounds fired, to find out how far one half a pound of powder would throw
a forty-six pound shell. The first trial, with the garrison powder, sent
the shell 239 yards. For rounds two and three Indian Department powder
was used; the fine-glazed kind sent the shell eighty-two yards, the
coarser grain carried it but seventy-nine yards. Once more the garrison
powder was used; the shell flew 243 yards, while a second trial of the
two sorts of Indian Department powder sent it but eighty-four and
seventy-six yards, or about three to one in favor of the white man. With
the garrison powder, a musket and carbine ball went through a two and
one-quarter-inch oak plank, at the distance of fifty yards, and lodged
in one six inches behind it; but with the Indian powder these balls
would not go through the first plank.
This seems like taking a base advantage of the trustful Indian ally,
especially since he was to use his powder against the common foe, the
American rebel; in reality, however, the Indians were wasteful and
irresponsible, and squandered their ammunition on the little birds of
the forest and even in harmless but expensive salvos into the empty air.
Another economy was practiced in the Indian Department: when the stock
ran low the rum was watered. Sometimes the precious contents of the
casks were augmented one third, sometimes even two thirds, with the more
abundant beverage from Niagara River, so that the garrison rum, like
the garrison powder, "carried" two or three times as well as did that of
the Indian Department; but whether this had a salutary effect upon the
thirsty recipients is a problem the solution of which lies outside the
range of the exact historian.
Difficult as it was to hold the allegiance of the savage, it was harder
yet--nay, it was impossible--to make him fight according to the rules of
civilized warfare. The British Government from the Ministry down stand
in history in an equivocal position in this matter. Over and over again
in the correspondence which I have examined, one finds vigorous
condemnation of the Indian method of slaughter of women and children,
and the torture of captives. Over and over again the officers are urged
not to allow it; and over and over again they report, after a raid, that
they deplore the acts of wantonness which were committed, and which they
were unable to prevent. But nowhere do I find any suggestion that the
services of the Indians be dispensed with. Throughout the Revolution,
the Senecas, Cayugas, Onondagas and Delawares--for the last, also, were
often at Fort Niagara--were sent against the Americans, by the British.
The Oneidas, as is well known, were divided and vacillating in their
allegiance. In August, 1780, 132 of them who hitherto had been
ostensibly friendly to the Americans, were induced to go to Niagara and
give their pledges to the British. When they arrived Guy Johnson put on
a severe front and censured them for their lack of steadfastness to the
King. According to him, some 500 Oneidas in all came to the fort that
year and declared themselves ready to fight the Americans. The last
party that arrived delivered up to the Superintendent a commission
which, he says, "the Rebels had issued with a view to form the Oneidas
into a corps, ... they also delivered up to me the Rebel flag."
So far as I am aware this is the first mention of the Stars and Stripes
on the banks of the Niagara. By resolution of June 14, 1777, the
American Congress had decreed "That the flag of the thirteen United
States be thirteen stripes alternate red and white; that the union be
thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new
constellation." A little over three years had passed since John Paul
Jones had first flung to the breeze, at the mast of his ship Ranger,
this bright banner of the new nation. It was not to appear in a British
port for two and a half years to come; sixteen years were to pass before
it could fly triumphant over the old walls of Fort Niagara; but France
had saluted it, Americans were fighting for it, and although it is first
found here in hostile hands, yet I like to reckon from that August day
in 1780, the beginning, if in prophecy only, of the reign of that new
constellation over the Niagara region.
Col. Bolton's life at Fort Niagara was one of infinite care. Besides the
routine of the garrison, he was constantly harrassed by the demands of
the Indians, whom the British did not wish to feed, but whom they dared
not offend. The old fort, which now sleeps so quietly at the mouth of
the river, was a busy place in those days. There was constant coming and
going. Schooners, snows[12] and batteaux with provisions from Quebec, or
with munitions of war or detachments of troops for Detroit or
Michillimackinac, were constantly arriving. I question if the lower
Niagara were not busier in that period than it is now. The transfer of
supplies around the falls--the "great portage"--was hard and tedious
work. Not Quebec, but Great Britain, was the real base of supplies.
There were many detentions, and constant interruption in shipment, at
every stage of the way. Sometimes a cargo of salt pork from Ireland or
flour from London would reach Quebec too late in the summer to admit of
transfer to the posts until spring. Sometimes, in crossing Lake Ontario,
the provisions would be damaged so as to be unfit for use; sometimes
they would be lost. Then not only the garrison at Niagara had to face
starvation, but Col. Bolton soon had his ears ringing with messages and
maledictions from Detroit and Mackinac, buried still farther in the
wilderness, and all looking to Niagara for food and clothing. At such
times of distress the upper posts questioned whether goods intended for
them were not irregularly held at Niagara; the meanwhile, Col. Bolton
would be straining every effort to get provisions enough to keep his own
command from starvation. Indian supplies and traders' goods, too, were
liable to loss and detention; and on very slight provocation, the
demands of the Indians grew insolent.
There were constant desertions, too, among the troops. Indeed, there
seems never to have been a time at Fort Niagara when desertions were not
frequent, and, more than once, so numerous as to threaten the very
existence of the garrison. This, however, not in Bolton's time. As the
correspondence shows, he enjoyed the utmost confidence of his superiors,
and there is nothing to indicate that his men were not as devoted to him
as any officer could expect at a frontier post where service meant hard
work and possible starvation.
Frequent as had been the raids against the settlements before the
expedition of Sullivan, they became thereafter even more frequent; and,
if less disastrous, they were so merely because the American frontier
settlements had already paid their utmost tribute to Butler and Brant.
The expeditions, along certain much-worn trails, had to go farther and
farther in order to find foes to attack or cattle to steal. This was
especially so in the valleys of the Mohawk and Susquehanna; yet in one
quarter and another this border warfare went on, and there is no lack of
evidence, in the official correspondence, of its effectiveness. Thus,
writing from Fort Niagara, August 24, 1780, Guy Johnson reports: "I have
the pleasure to inform your excellency that the partys who subdivided
after Capt. Brant's success at the Cleysburg"--an expedition which he
had previously reported--"have all been successful; that Capt. Brant
has destroyed twenty houses in Schoharie and taken and killed twelve
persons, besides releasing several women and children. Among the
prisoners is Lieut. Vrooman, the settlement of that name being that
which was destroyed. The other divisions of that party have been also
successful, particularly Capt. David's party, and the number of killed
and taken by them within that time, so far as it has come to my hands,
is, killed, thirty-five, taken, forty-six, released, forty.... The
remaining inhabitants on the frontiers are drawing in so as to deprive
the rebels of any useful resources from them. I have at present on
service, several partys that set out within one and the same week, and I
apprehend that falling on the frontiers in different places at the same
time will have a good effect." September 18th he writes, telling of the
destruction of "Kleysberg," "containing a church, 100 houses and as many
barnes, besides mills and 500 cattle and horses." In the same letter he
wrote: "I have now 405 warriors out in different parties and quarters,
exclusive of some marched from Kadaragawas.... The greater part of the
rest are at their planting grounds, and many sick here, as fevers and
fluxes have for some time prevailed at this Post." October 1st he
reports the number of men in the war parties sent out from Fort Niagara
as 892. A return, dated June 30, 1781, shows that the war parties "have
killed and taken during the season already 150 persons." September 30th
he reports an expedition under Walter Johnson and Montour, in which
about "twenty rebels" were killed; and on that day Capt. Nelles arrived
with eleven prisoners taken in Pennsylvania. A postscript to this letter
says: "Since writing, I have received the disagreeable news of the death
of the gallant Montour, who died of the wounds he received in the action
before related. He was a chief of the greatest spirit and readiness, and
his death is a loss." We can well believe that; for Montour, who, from
the American view-point, had the reputation of being a fiend incarnate,
had indeed shown "spirit and readiness" in stealing cattle, burning log
cabins, killing and scalping their occupants or bringing them captive to
Fort Niagara.
In another paper[13] I have stated that I have traced out the individual
experiences in captivity of thirty-two of these Americans, who were
taken by the Indians and British and brought as prisoners to Fort
Niagara. How much might be done on this line may be judged from a review
of Col. Johnson's transactions, furnished by that officer at Montreal,
March 24, 1782, in which it is stated that the number of Americans
killed and taken captive by parties from Fort Niagara, amounted at that
time to near 900. The time was rife with like experiences. For instance,
there was the famous raid on Cherry Valley, from which Mrs. Jane
Campbell and her four children, after a long detention among the
Indians, were brought to Fort Niagara. There was Jane Moore, who was
also taken at Cherry Valley, and who subsequently was married to Capt.
Powell of the Niagara garrison in the winter of 1779--the ceremony, by
the Church of England service, so impressing Joseph Brant that he
immediately led up to the minister the squaw with whom he had been
living for a long time, and insisted on being married over again, white
man's fashion. There was Lieut. Col. Stacia, another prisoner from
Cherry Valley, whose head Molly Brant wanted for a football. Some of the
stories of these captives, like that of Alexander Harper, who ran the
gauntlet at Fort Niagara (the ordeal apparently being made light in his
case), are familiar to readers of our history; others, I venture to say,
are unknown. For instance, there were John and Robert Brice, two little
boys, who were taken in 1779 near Rensselaerville by a scouting party,
and brought, with other prisoners and eight scalps, to Fort Niagara. But
they did not come together. Robert, who was but eleven years old, was
taken to Fort Erie and sold to a lake sailor for the sum of L3. This
little Son of the Revolution was kept on the upper lakes until 1783,
when he was summoned to Fort Niagara where he met his brother John, from
whom he had parted near the mouth of the Unadilla River some four years
before. They were sent to Montreal with nearly 200 liberated captives,
and ultimately the boys reached Albany and their friends. Then there is
the story of Nancy Bundy, who, her husband and children being killed,
was brought to Fort Niagara and sold into servitude for $8. There was
the famous Indian fighter, Moses Van Campen, whose adventures and
captivity in our region are the subject of a whole book. There were
Horatio Jones and Jasper Parrish, who passed from Indian captives into
the useful role of interpreters for the whites.
Thus I might go on, naming by the score the heroes and heroines of
Indian captivities whose sufferings and whose adventures make up the
most romantic chapter in our home annals, as yet for the most part
unwritten. But I take time now to dwell, briefly as possible, upon but
one of these captivities--one of the notable incidents during Col.
Bolton's time at Fort Niagara. This was the capture of the Gilbert
family. It made so great a stir, even in those days accustomed to war
and Indian raids, that in 1784 a little book was published in
Philadelphia giving the history of it. The original edition[14] has long
since been one of the scarcest of Americana. But in the unpublished
correspondence between Gen. Haldimand and the officers at Fort Niagara,
I find sundry allusions to "the Quaker's family," and statements which
go to show that the British at least were disposed to treat them well,
and to effect their exchange as soon as possible. Notwithstanding, it
was a long and cruel captivity, and presents some features of peculiar
significance in our local history.
About sunrise on the morning of April 25, 1780, a party of eleven
painted Indians suddenly issued from the woods bordering Mahoning Creek,
in Northampton County, Penn. They had come from Fort Niagara, and were
one of those scalping parties for the success of which so many
encouraging messages had passed from Whitehall to Quebec, and from
Quebec to the frontier, and to stimulate which Guy Johnson had been so
lavish with the fine linen, silver ornaments and port wine. The party
was commanded by Rowland Montour, John Montour being second in command.
Undiscovered, they surrounded the log house of the old Quaker miller,
Benjamin Gilbert. With tomahawk raised and flint-locks cocked they
suddenly appeared at door and windows. The old Quaker offered his hand
as a brother. It was refused. Partly from the Quaker habit of
non-resistance, partly from the obvious certainty that to attempt to
escape meant death, the whole household submitted to be bound, while
their home was plundered and burned. Loading three of Gilbert's horses
with booty, and placing heavy packs on the back of each prisoner old
enough to bear them, the expedition took the trail for Fort Niagara,
more than 200 miles away. This was "war" in "the good old days."
There were twelve prisoners in the party, of whom but five were men.
The patriarch of the household, Benjamin, was sixty-nine years old;
Elizabeth, his wife, was fifty-five; Joseph, Benjamin's son by a former
wife, aged forty-one; another son, Jesse, aged nineteen, and his wife
Sarah, the same age. There were three younger children, Rebecca, Abner
and Elizabeth, respectively sixteen, fourteen and twelve; Thomas Peart,
son to Benjamin Gilbert's wife by a former husband, aged twenty-three; a
nephew, Benjamin Gilbert, aged eleven; a hired man, Andrew Harrigar,
twenty-six; and Abigail Dodson, the fourteen-year-old daughter of a
neighbor; she had had the ill-luck to come to Gilbert's mill that
morning for grist, and was taken with the rest. Half a mile distant
lived Mrs. Gilbert's oldest son, Benjamin Peart, aged twenty-seven, his
wife Elizabeth, who was but twenty, and their nine-months-old child.
Montour added these to his party, making fifteen prisoners in all,
burned their house and urged all along the trail, their first stop being
near "Mochunk." (Mauch Chunk.)
I must omit most of the details of their march northward. On the evening
of the first day Benjamin Peart fainted from fatigue and Rowland Montour
was with difficulty restrained from tomahawking him. At night the men
prisoners were secured in a way which was usual on these raids,
throughout Western New York and Pennsylvania, during those dismal years.
The Indians cut down a sapling five or six inches in diameter, and cut
notches in it large enough to receive the ankles of the prisoners. After
fixing their legs in these notches, they placed another pole over the
first, and thus secured them as in stocks. This upper pole was then
crossed at each end by stakes driven into the ground. The prisoners thus
lay on the ground, on their backs. Straps or ropes around their necks
were made fast to near-by trees. Sometimes a blanket was granted them
for covering, sometimes not. What rest might be had, preparatory to
another day's forced march, I leave to the imagination.
During the early stages of this march the old couple were constantly
threatened with death, because unable to keep up. On the fourth day four
negroes who claimed that they were loyal to the King, that they had
escaped from the Americans and had set out for Fort Niagara, were taken
up by Montour from a camp where he had left them on his way down the
valley. These negroes frequently whipped and tortured the prisoners for
sport, Montour making no objection. On the 4th of May, the Indians
separated into two companies; one taking the westward path, and with
this party went Thomas Peart, Joseph Gilbert, Benjamin Gilbert--the
little boy of eleven--and Sarah, wife of Jesse. The others kept on the
northerly course. Andrew Harrigar, terrified by the Indian boast that
those who had gone with the other party "were killed and scalped, and
you may expect the same fate tonight," took a kettle, under pretence of
bringing water, but ran away under cover of darkness. After incredible
hardships he regained the settlements. His escape so angered Rowland
Montour that he threw Jesse Gilbert down, and lifted his tomahawk for
the fatal blow; Elizabeth, Jesse's mother, knelt over him, pressed her
head to her son's brow and begged the captain to spare his life. Montour
kicked her over and tied them both by their necks to a tree; after a
time, his passion cooling, he loosed them, bade them pack up and take
the trail. This is but a sample incident. I pass over many.
None suffered more on the march than Elizabeth Peart, the girl mother.
The Indians would not let her husband relieve her by carrying her child,
and she was ever the victim of the whimsical moods of her captors. At
one time they would let her ride one of the horses; at another, would
compel her to walk, carrying the child, and would beat her if she lagged
behind. By the 14th of May Elizabeth Gilbert had become so weak that she
could only keep the trail when led and supported by her children. On
this day the main party was rejoined by a portion of the party that had
branched off to westward; with them were two of the four captives,
Benjamin Gilbert, Jr., and Sarah, wife of Jesse. On this day old
Benjamin was painted black, the custom of the Indians with prisoners
whom they intended to kill. Later on they were joined by British
soldiers, who took away the four negroes and did something to alleviate
the sufferings of the white prisoners. The expedition had exhausted its
provisions and all that had been taken from the Gilberts. A chance
hedgehog, and roots dug in the woods, sustained them for some days. May
the 17th they ferried across the Genesee River on a log raft.
Provisions were brought from Fort Niagara, an Indian having been sent
ahead, on the best horse; and on the morning of the 21st of May they
heard, faintly booming beyond the intervening forest, the morning gun at
Fort Niagara. An incident of that day's march was a meeting with
Montour's wife. She was the daughter of the great Seneca Sayenqueraghta,
the man who led the Indians at Wyoming,[15] and whose influence was
greater in this region, at the time we are studying, than even that of
Brant himself. He was the Old King of the Senecas, called Old Smoke by
the whites. Smoke's Creek, the well-known stream which empties into Lake
Erie just beyond the southwest limit of Buffalo, between South Park and
Woodlawn Beach, preserves his name to our day. It was there that he
lived in his last years; and somewhere on its margin, in a now unknown
grave, he was buried. His daughter the "Princess," was, next to Molly
Brant, the grandest Indian woman of the time on the Niagara. As she met
the wretched Gilberts, "she was dressed altogether in the Indian
costume, and was shining with gold lace and silver baubles." To her
Rowland Montour presented the girl Rebecca, as a daughter. The princess
took a silver ring from her finger and put it on Rebecca's, which act
completed the adoption of this little Quaker maid of sixteen into one
of the most famous--possibly the most infamous--family of the Niagara
region during the Revolutionary period.
At a village not far from Fort Niagara, apparently near the present
Tuscarora village on the heights east of Lewiston, Montour painted
Jesse, Abner, Rebecca and Elizabeth Gilbert, Jr., as Indians are
painted, and gave each a belt of wampum; but while these marks of favor
were shown to the young people, the mother, because of her feebleness,
was continually the victim of the displeasure and the blows of the
Indians. On May 23d, being at the Landing--what is now Lewiston--they
were visited by Captains Powell and Dace from the fort, and the next
day, just one month from the time of their capture, they trudged down
the trail which is now the pleasant river road, towards the old fort,
protected with difficulty from the blows of the Indians along the way.
Now followed the dispersion of this unhappy family. After the Indian
custom, the young and active prisoners were sought by the Indians for
adoption. Many brave American boys went out to live, in the most menial
servitude, among the Senecas and other tribes who during the later years
of the Revolution lived on the Genesee, the Tonawanda, Buffalo,
Cazenove, Smoke's, and Cattaraugus creeks. The old man and his wife and
their son Jesse were surrendered to Col. Johnson. Benjamin Peart, Mrs.
Gilbert's son, was carried off to the Genesee. The other members of the
party were held in captivity in various places; but I may only stay now
to note what befel the little Rebecca and her sister-in-law, Elizabeth
Peart.
As already stated, Rebecca had been adopted by Rowland Montour's wife.
In the general allotment of prisoners, her cousin, Benjamin Gilbert, the
lad of eleven, also fell to this daughter of Sayenqueraghta. She took
the children to a cabin where her father's family, eleven in number,
were assembled. After the usual grand lamentation for the dead, whose
places were supposed now to be filled by the white prisoners, this royal
household departed by easy stages for their summer's corn-planting. They
tarried at the Landing, while clothing was had from the fort. The little
Quaker girl was dressed after the Indian fashion, "with short-clothes,
leggins and a gold-laced hat"; while Benjamin, "as a badge of his
dignity, wore a silver medal hanging from his neck." They moved up to
Fort Schlosser (just above the falls, near where the present power-house
stands), thence by canoe to Fort Erie; then "four miles further, up
Buffalo Creek, where they pitched their tent for a settlement." Here the
women planted corn; but the little Rebecca, not being strong, was
allowed to look after the cooking. The whole household, queen, princess
and slave, had to work. The men of course were exempt; but the chief
advantage of Sayenqueraghta's high rank was that he could procure more
provisions from the King's stores at Fort Niagara than could the humbler
members of the tribe. The boy Ben had an easy time of it. He roamed at
will with the Indian boys over the territory that is now Buffalo;
fished in the lake, hunted or idled without constraint, and it is
recorded that he was so pleased with the Indian mode of life, that but
for his sister's constant admonition he would have dropped all thought
of return to civilization, and cheerfully have become as good an Indian
as the best of them. At eleven years of age savagery takes easy hold.
These children lived with Montour's Indian relatives for over two years;
sharing in the feasts when there was plenty, going pinched with hunger
on the frequent occasions when improvidence had exhausted the supply.
There were numerous expeditions, afoot and by canoe, to Fort Niagara. On
one occasion Rebecca, with her Indian family, were entertained by
British officers at Fort Erie, when Old Smoke drank so much wine that
when he came to paddle his canoe homeward, across the river, he narrowly
escaped an upset on the rocky reef, just outside the entrance to Buffalo
Creek. On every visit to Fort Niagara Rebecca would look for release;
but although the officers were kind to her, they did not choose to
interfere with so powerful a family as Montour's. It was shortly after
one of these disappointments that she heard of her father's death. For
some months she was sick; then came news of the death of her Indian
father, Rowland Montour, who succumbed to wounds received in the attack
already noted. There was great mourning in the lodge on Buffalo Creek,
and Rebecca had to make a feint of sorrow, weeping aloud with the rest.
In the winter of '81-'82 a scheme was devised by friends at the fort
for abducting her from the Indians, but it was not undertaken. In the
spring of '82 peremptory orders came from Gen. Haldimand that all the
remaining members of the Gilbert family who were still in captivity
should be taken from the Indians; but after a council fire had been
lighted, Old Smoke, Montour's widow, and the rest of the family, Rebecca
and Ben included, moved six miles up the lake shore--apparently to
Smoke's Creek--where they stayed several weeks making maple sugar. Then,
a great pigeon roost being reported, men and boys went off to it, some
fifty miles, and the delighted young Ben went too. Of all the Gilbert
captives he alone seems to have had experiences too full of wholesome
adventure and easy living to warrant the expenditure of the least bit of
sympathy upon him. But sooner or later the wily Indians had to heed Sir
Frederick's command, and on the 1st of June, 1782, after upwards of two
years of captivity, Rebecca and her cousin were released at Fort
Niagara, and two days later, with others, embarked for Montreal.
Far more cheerless were the experiences of Elizabeth Peart. She was
parted from her husband, adopted by a Seneca family, and was also
brought to raise corn on Buffalo Creek. Early in her servitude among the
Indians her babe was taken from her and carried across to Canada. She
was but twenty years old herself; the family that had taken her came by
canoe to Buffalo Creek, where they settled for the corn-planting. This
was in the spring of 1780. All manner of drudgery and burdens were put
upon her. Her work was to cultivate the corn. Falling sick, the Indians
built a hut for her by the side of the cornfield, and then utterly
neglected her. Here she remained through the summer, regaining strength
enough to care for and gather the corn; when this was done, her Indian
father permitted her to come and live again in the family lodge. At one
time a drunken Indian attacked her, knocked her down, and dragged her
about, beating her. At another, all provision failing, she tramped with
others four days through the snow to Fort Niagara. Here Capt. Powell's
wife--who had been a prisoner herself--interceded in Elizabeth's behalf,
but to no avail. She was however given an opportunity to see her babe,
which was being cared for by an Indian family on the Canadian side of
the river, opposite Fort Niagara. This privilege was gained for the poor
mother by bribing her Indian father with a bottle of rum. So far as I am
aware, this was the best use to which a bottle of rum was put during the
Revolutionary War. But back to Buffalo Creek the unhappy mother had to
come. Her release was finally obtained by artifice. Being allowed to
visit Fort Niagara, where she had some needlework to do for the white
people, she feigned sickness, and by one excuse and another the Indians
were put off until she could be shipped away to Montreal.
Of the Gilbert family and those taken with them by Montour, only the old
man died in captivity. The adventures of each one would make a long
story, but may not be entered upon here. By the close of '82 they were
all released from the Indians, and after a detention at Montreal,
reached their friends in Pennsylvania and set about the reestablishment
of homes.
Beyond question, Elizabeth Peart and Rebecca Gilbert were the first
white women ever on the site of the present city of Buffalo. They were
brave, patient, patriotic girls; no truer Daughters of the American
Revolution are known to history. It would seem fitting that their memory
should be preserved and their story known--much fuller than I have here
sketched it--by the patriotic Daughters of the Revolution of our own
day, who give heed to American beginnings in this region.
I have dwelt at length on the Gilbert captivity, not more because of its
own importance than to illustrate the responsibilities which constantly
rested on the commandant at Niagara, at this period. We now turn to
other phases of the service which engaged the attention and taxed the
endurance of Col. Bolton.
From the time of the conquest of Canada in 1760 down to the opening of
the Revolution, there had been a slow but steady growth of shipping on
the lakes, especially on Lake Ontario. On this lake, as early as 1767,
there were four brigs of from forty to seventy tons, and sixteen armed
deck-cutters. Besides the "King's ships" there were still much travel
and traffic by means of canoes and batteaux. One of the first effects of
the war with the American colonies was to beget active ship-building
operations by the British; for Lake Ontario, at Oswegatchie, Oswego and
Niagara; and for Lake Erie, at Navy Island, Detroit and Pine River. An
official return made in July, 1778, the summer after Col. Bolton assumed
command at Niagara, enumerates twelve sailing craft built for Lake
Ontario since the British gained control of that lake in 1759, and
sixteen for Lake Erie; seven of the Lake Ontario boats had been cast
away, two were laid up and decayed; so that at this time--midsummer of
'78--there were still in service only the snow Haldimand, eighteen guns,
built at Oswegatchie in 1771; the snow Seneca, eighteen guns, built in
1777; and the sloop Caldwell, two guns, built in 1774. A memorandum
records that Capt. Andrews, in the spring of 1778, sought permission to
build another vessel at Niagara, to take the place of the Haldimand,
which, he was informed, could not last more than another year. The
vessel built, in accordance with this recommendation, was a schooner;
her construction was entrusted to Capt. Shank, at Niagara, across the
river from the fort. We may be sure that Col. Bolton visited the yard
from time to time to note the progress of the work. There was discussion
over her lines. "Capt. Shank was told that he was making her too
flat-bottomed, and that she would upset." The builder laughed at his
critics and stuck to his model. She was launched, named the Ontario, and
was hastened forward to completion, for the King's service had urgent
need of her.
Col. Bolton had long been in bad health, wearied with the cares and
perplexities of his position and eager to get away from Fort Niagara.
One source of constant annoyance to his military mind was the traders'
supplies, which turned the fort into a warehouse and laid distasteful
duties upon its commandant. His letters contain many allusions to the
"incredible plague and trouble caused by merchants' goods frequently
sent without a single person to care for them." "Last year," so he wrote
in May, '78, "every place in this fort was lumbered with them, and
vessels were obliged to navigate the lakes until Nov. 30th." The vessels
were primarily for the King's service, but when unemployed were allowed
to be used in transporting merchants' goods, under certain regulations.
The next statement in the same letter gives some idea of the magnitude
of the transactions involved in the various departments in this region
at the period: "I have drawn a bill of L14,760-9-5"--nearly $74,000--"on
acct. of sundries furnished Indians by Maj. Butler, also another on
acct. of Naval Dept. at Detroit for L4,070-18-9. Between us I am
heartily sick of bills and accounts and if the other posts are as
expensive to Government as this has been I think Old England had done
much better in letting the savages take possession of them than to have
put herself to half the enormous sum she has been at in keeping them.
Neither does the climate agree with my constitution, which has already
suffered by being employed many years in the West Indies and Florida,
for I have been extremely ill the two winters I have spent here with
rheumatism and a disorder in my breast."
One source of annoyance to Bolton was a detachment of Hessians which was
sent to augment the garrison at Fort Niagara. Col. Bolton did not find
them to his liking, nor was life at a backwoods post at all congenial to
these mercenaries, fighting England's battles to pay their monarch's
debts. They refused to work on the fortifications at Niagara; whereupon,
in November, 1779, Col. Bolton packed them off down to Carleton Island.
Alexander Fraser, in charge of that post, wrote to Gen. Haldimand that
he had ordered the "jagers" to be replaced by a company of the 34th.
"Capt. Count Wittgenstein," he added, "fears bad consequences should the
Jagers be ordered to return." Nowhere in America does the British
employment of Hessian troops appear to have been less satisfactory than
on this frontier. At Carleton Island, as at Niagara, they refused to
work, many of them were accused of selling their necessaries for rum,
and the Count de Wittgenstein himself was reprimanded.
There were difficulties, too, with the lake service. Desertion and
discontent followed an attempt to shorten the seamen's rations. In the
summer of '78, the sailors on board the snow Seneca, at Niagara, asked
to be discharged, alleging that their time had expired the preceding
November, and the yet more remarkable reason that they objected to the
service because they had been brought up on shore and life on the
rolling deep of Lake Ontario afforded "no opportunity of exercising our
Religion, neither does confinement agree with our healths." Like many
lake sailors at this period they were probably French Canadian
Catholics, with loyalty none too strong to the British cause.
Bolton stuck to his post throughout that season, the year of alarm that
followed, and the succeeding period of distress. The most frequent
entries in his letters record the arrival of war parties, and his
anxiety over the enormous expense incurred for the Indians by Maj.
Butler. "Scalps and prisoners are coming in every day, which is all the
news this place affords," he writes in June, '78; and again, the same
month: "Ninety savages are just arrived with thirteen scalps and two
prisoners, and forty more with two scalps are expected. All of these
gentry, I am informed, must be clothed."[16] While there does not seem
ever to have been an open break between Bolton and Butler, yet the
former looked with dismay, if not disapproval, upon the endless
expenditure incurred for the Indians. In August, 1778, he wrote: "Maj.
Butler, chief of the Indian Department, gives orders to the merchants to
supply the savages with everything to answer their demands, of which
undoubtedly he is the best judge and only person who can satisfy them or
keep them in temper. He also signs a certificate that the goods and cash
issued and paid by his order were indispensably necessary for the
government of His Majesty's service. The commanding officer of this
post is thus obliged to draw bills for the amount of all these accounts,
of which it is impossible he can be a judge or know anything about.... I
only mention these things to show Yr Excellency the disagreeable part
that falls to my lot as commanding officer; besides this is such a
complicated command that even an officer of much superior abilities than
I am master of, would find himself sometimes not a little embarrassed at
this Post."
Bolton was seriously ill during the winter of '79-'80, as indeed were
many of his garrison. In April, 1780, he reports his wretched health to
Gen. Haldimand. All through the succeeding summer he stuck to his post;
but on September 13th, worn out and discouraged, he asked to be allowed
to retire from the command of the upper posts and lakes. September 30th
he again wrote, begging for leave of absence. Some weeks later the
desired permission was sent, and Bolton determined to stay no longer.
Late in October the new Ontario, which Capt. Shank had built across the
river from the fort, was finished and rigged; she carried sixteen guns,
and was declared ready for service. She was ordered to convey a company
of the 34th down to Carleton Island. It was a notable departure. The
season was so late, no other opportunity for crossing Lake Ontario might
be afforded until spring. Lieut. Royce, with thirty men of the 34th,
embarked, under orders; so did Lieut. Colleton of the Royal Artillery.
Capt. Andrews, superintendent of naval construction, at whose
solicitations the Ontario had been built, being at Fort Niagara at the
time, also took passage. There was the full complement of officers and
crew. Several passengers--licensed Indian traders and fur merchants,
probably--crowded aboard; and among those who sailed away from Fort
Niagara that last October day, was Col. Bolton. It was the Ontario's
first voyage; and we may be sure that there was no lack of speculation
and wise opinion in the throng of spectators who watched her round the
bar at the mouth of the river and take her course down the lake. The old
criticism about her flat bottom and lack of draught was sure to be
recalled. But the Ontario, with her notable passenger list, had sailed,
and the only port she ever reached was the bottom of the lake. It is
supposed she foundered, some forty miles east of Niagara, near a place
called Golden Hill. On the beach there, some days after, a few articles
were found, supposed to have come ashore; but no other sign, no word of
the Ontario or of any of the throng that sailed in her has been had from
that day to this. In due time news of the loss reached Quebec. Sincere
but short were the expressions of sorrow in the correspondence that
followed. "The loss of so many good officers and men," wrote Haldimand,
"particularly at this period, and the disappointment of forwarding
provisions for the great consumption at the upper posts, will be
severely felt."[17] It was the fortune of war, and already the thought
turned to those who had depended upon a return cargo of provisions by
the Ontario. And so passes Mason Bolton out of the history of Fort
Niagara.
What Befel David Ogden.
WHAT BEFEL DAVID OGDEN.
It was my privilege, in the summer of 1896, to share in the exercises
which marked the Centennial of the delivery of Fort Niagara by Great
Britain to the United States. As I stood in that old stronghold on the
bank above the blue lake, strolled across the ancient parade ground, or
passed from one historic building to another, I found myself constantly
forgetting the actual day and hour, and slipping back a century or two.
There was a great crowd at Fort Niagara on this August day; thousands of
people--citizens, officials, soldiers and pleasure-seekers; but with
them came and went, to my retrospective vision, many more thousands yet:
missionary priests, French adventurers, traders, soldiers of the
scarlet, and of the buff and blue. I saw Butler's Rangers in their green
suits; and I saw a horde of savages, now begging for rations from the
King's stores, now coming in from their forays, famished but exultant,
displaying the scalps they had taken, or leading their ragged and
woebegone captives. It was upon these captives, whose romantic
misfortunes make a long and dramatic chapter in the history of Fort
Niagara, that my regard was prone to center. Their stories have nowhere
been told, so far as I am aware, as a part of the history of the place;
many of them never can be told; but of others some details may be
recorded.
Throughout the whole period of the Revolutionary War, Fort Niagara was a
garrisoned British post, of varying strength. It was the supply depot
for all arms and provisions which were destined for the upper posts of
Detroit and Michillimackinac; it was the rendezvous of the Senecas, who
worked the Government for all the blankets and guns, trinkets and
provisions which they could get; it was the headquarters of Col. Guy
Johnson, Indian Superintendent; and it was the resting-place and base of
operations of They-en-dan-e-gey-ah--in English, Joseph Brant; of Butler
and his rangers, and of numerous other less famous but more cruel
Indians, British and Tory leaders. No American troops reached Fort
Niagara to attack it. Only once was it even threatened. Yet throughout
the whole period of the war parties sallied forth from Fort Niagara to
plunder, capture or kill the rebel settlers wherever they could be
reached.
Sixty years ago Judge Samuel De Veaux wrote of this phase of the history
of Fort Niagara:
This old fort is as much noted for enormity and crime, as for any
good ever derived from it by the nation in occupation.... During
the American Revolution it was the headquarters of all that was
barbarous, unrelenting and cruel. There, were congregated the
leaders and chiefs of those bands of murderers and miscreants, that
carried death and destruction into the remote American settlements.
There, civilized Europe revelled with savage America; and ladies of
education and refinement mingled in the society of those whose
only distinction was to wield the bloody tomahawk and
scalping-knife. There, the squaws of the forest were raised to
eminence, and the most unholy unions between them and officers of
the highest rank, smiled upon and countenanced. There, in their
strong hold, like a nest of vultures, securely, for seven years,
they sallied forth and preyed upon the distant settlements of the
Mohawks and Susquehannahs. It was the depot of their plunder; there
they planned their forays, and there they returned to feast, until
the hour of action came again.[18]
This striking passage, which the worthy author did not substantiate by a
single fact, may stand as the present text. I have undertaken to trace
some of the flights of the birds of prey from this nest, and to bring
together the details relating to the captives who were brought hither.
From many sources I have traced out the narratives of thirty-two persons
who were brought to Fort Niagara captive by the Indians, during the
years 1778 to 1783. Among them is my boy hero Davy Ogden, whose
adventures I undertake to tell with some minuteness. Just how many
American prisoners were brought into Fort Niagara during this period I
am unable to say, though it is possible that from the official
correspondence of the time figures could be had on which a very close
estimate could be based. My examination of the subject warrants the
assertion that several hundred were brought in by the war parties under
Indian, British and Tory leaders. In this correspondence, very little of
which has ever been published, one may find such entries as the
following:
Guy Johnson wrote from Fort Niagara, June 30, 1781:
In my last letter of the 24th inst. I had just time to enclose a
copy of Lieut. Nelles's letter with an account of his success,
since which he arrived at this place with more particular
information by which I find that he killed thirteen and took seven
(the Indians not having reckoned two of the persons whom they left
unscalped)....
Again:
I have the honor to transmit to Your Excellency a general letter
containing the state of the garrison and of my Department to the
1st inst., and a return, at the foot, of the war parties that have
been on service this year, ... by which it will appear that they
have killed and taken during the season already 150 persons,
including those last brought in....
Again he reports, August 30, 1781:
The party with Capt. Caldwell and some of the Indians with Capt.
Lottridge are returning, having destroyed several settlements in
Ulster County, and about 100 of the Indians are gone against other
parts of the frontiers, and I have some large parties under good
leaders still on service as well as scouts towards Fort Pitt....
Not only are there many returns of this sort, but also tabulated
statements, giving the number of prisoners sent down from Fort Niagara
to Montreal on given dates, with their names, ages, names of their
captors, and the places where they were taken. There were many shipments
during the summer of '83, and the latest return of this sort which I
have found in the archives is dated August 1st of that year, when eleven
prisoners were sent from the fort to Montreal. It was probably not far
from this time that the last American prisoner of the Revolution was
released from Fort Niagara. But let the reader beware of forming hasty
conclusions as to the cruelty or brutality of the British at Fort
Niagara. In the first place, remember that harshness or kindness in the
treatment of the helpless depends in good degree--and always has
depended--upon the temperament and mood of the individual custodian.
There were those in command at Fort Niagara who appear to have been
capable of almost any iniquity. Others gave frequent and conspicuous
proofs of their humanity. Remember, secondly, that the prisoners
primarily belonged to the Indians who captured them. The Indian custom
of adoption--the taking into the family circle of a prisoner in place of
a son or husband who had been killed by the enemy--was an Iroquois
custom, dating back much further than their acquaintance with the
English. Many of the Americans who were detained in this fashion by
their Indian captors, probably never were given over to the British.
Some, as we know, like Mary Jemison, the White Woman of the Genesee,
adopted the Indian mode of life and refused to leave it. Others died in
captivity, some escaped. Horatio Jones and Jasper Parrish were first
prisoners, then utilized as interpreters, but remained among the
Indians.[19] And in many cases, especially of women and children, we
know that they were got away from the Indians by the British officers at
Fort Niagara, only after considerable trouble and expense. In these
cases the British were the real benefactors of the Americans, and the
kindness in the act cannot always be put aside on the mere ground of
military exchange, prisoner for prisoner. Gen. Haldimand is quoted to
the effect that he "does not intend to enter into an exchange of
prisoners, but he will not add to the distresses attending the present
war, by detaining helpless women and children from their families."[20]
I have spoken of Mrs. Campbell, who was held some months at Kanadasaga.
The letter just cited further illustrates the point I would make:
A former application had been made in behalf of Col. Campbell to
procure the exchange of his family for that of Col. Butler, and the
officer commanding the upper posts collected Mr. Campbell's and the
family of a Mr. Moore, and procured their release from the Indians
upon the above mentioned condition with infinite trouble and a very
heavy expense. They are now at Fort Niagara where the best care
that circumstances will admit of, is taken of them, and I am to
acquaint you that Mrs. Campbell & any other women or children that
shall be specified shall be safely conducted to Fort Schuyler, or
to any other place that shall be thought most convenient, provided
Mrs. Butler & her family consisting of a like number shall in the
same manner have safe conduct to my advance post upon Lake
Champlain in order that she may cross the lake before the ice
breaks up.
The official correspondence carried on during the years 1779 to '83,
between Gen. Haldimand and the commanding officers at Fort Niagara shows
in more than one instance that American prisoners were a burden and a
trouble at that post. Sometimes, as in the case of Mrs. Campbell, who
was finally exchanged for Mrs. Butler and her children, they were
detained as hostages. More often, they were received from the Indians in
exchange for presents, the British being obliged to humor the Indians
and thus retain their invaluable services. Thus, under date of Oct. 2,
1779, we find Col. Bolton writing from Fort Niagara to Gen. Haldimand:
"I should be glad to know what to do with the prisoners sent here by
Capt. Lernault. Some of them I forwarded to Carleton Island, and Maj.
Nairne has applied for leave to send them to Montreal. I have also many
here belonging to the Indians, who have not as yet agreed to deliver
them up."[21]
I could multiply at great length these citations from the official
correspondence, but enough has been given to show that the wholesale
condemnation of the British, into whose hands American prisoners fell,
is not warranted by the facts. But there is no plainer fact in it all
than that the British organized and aided the Indian raids, and were,
therefore, joint culprits in general.
And this brings us to the subject of scalps. For many years Fort Niagara
was called a scalp-market. The statement is frequent in early writers
that the British officers offered about eight dollars for every
American's scalp, and that it was this offer, more than anything else,
which fired the Indians to their most horrible deeds. Many scalps were
brought into Fort Niagara, but I have failed, as yet, to find any
report, or figure, or allusion, in the British archives pointing to the
payment of anything whatever. Further search may discover something to
settle this not unimportant matter; for we may readily believe that if
such payments were made the matter would be passed over as unobtrusively
as possible, especially in the reports to the Ministry. The facts appear
to be that warriors who brought scalps into Fort Niagara gave them to
the Superintendent of Indian Affairs, or his deputy, and then received
presents from him. Probably these presents were proportioned to the
success on the warpath.
These facts and reflections are offered to assist the reader's ready
understanding and imagination in following in detail the adventures of
one out of the many prisoners whose paths we have glanced at; for of all
these unfortunate patriots who were thus brought to the "vultures' nest"
none has laid hold of my interest and my imagination more strongly than
has David Ogden. He was born in a troublous time, and the hazards of
border life were his sole heritage, save alone a sturdy intrepidity of
character which chiefly commends him to me as the typical hero of all
the heroic souls, men, women, and children, who came through great
bereavements and hardships, into old Fort Niagara as prisoners of war.
Davy was born at Fishkill, Dutchess Co., New York, in 1764. His parents
made one remove after another, in the restless American fashion, for
some years taking such chances of betterment as new settlements
afforded; first at Waterford, Saratoga Co.; then in the wilderness on
the head-waters of the Susquehanna near the present village of
Huntsville; then up the river to the settlement known in those days as
Newtown Martin, now Middlefield; and later, for safety, to Cherry
Valley. Here David's mother and her four boys were at the time of the
famous massacre of November, 1778. When the alarm was given Mrs. Ogden
snatched a blanket, and with her little ones began a flight through the
woods towards the Mohawk. With them also fled Col. Campbell, of the
patriot militia. Coming to a deserted cabin whose owner had fled, they
did not scruple to help themselves to a loaf of bread, which Col.
Campbell cut up with his sword. After another flight of some hours
through a storm of mingled snow and rain, they came to the house of one
Lyons, a Tory, who was absent, presumably because busied in the black
work at Cherry Valley. Mrs. Lyons, who seems to have shared her
husband's sentiments, refused the refugees anything to eat, but finally
let the mother and children spend the night on the floor. Col. Campbell
left the Ogdens here and pushed on alone towards Canajoharie; while Mrs.
Odgen and her hungry little ones went on by themselves through the snow.
That day they came to a more hospitable house, where the keen suffering
of that adventure ended; and some days later, on the Mohawk, the father
rejoined the family, he also having escaped the massacre at Cherry
Valley.
This incident may be reckoned the mere prelude of our Davy's adventures;
for the next spring, having reached the mature age of fourteen, he
volunteered in the service of his country, entered upon the regular life
of a soldier, and began to have adventures on his own account. The year
that followed was spent in arduous but not particularly romantic
service. He was marched from one point to another on the Mohawk and the
Hudson; saw Andre hanged at Tappan, and finally was sent to the frontier
again, where at Fort Stanwix,[22] in the spring of 1781, what we may
regard as the real adventures of Davy Ogden began.
A party of eleven wood-choppers were at work in the heavy timber about
two miles from the fort, and every day an armed guard was sent out from
the garrison to protect them. On March 2d, Corporal Samuel Betts and six
soldiers, Davy among them, were detailed on this service. I conceive of
my hero at this time as a sturdy, well-seasoned lad, to whom woodcraft
and pioneer soldiering had become second nature. I would like to see him
among city boys of his own age to-day. Most things that they know, and
think of, would be quite out of his range. But there is a common ground
on which all healthy, high-minded boys, of whatever time or station in
life, stand on a level. I do not know that he had ever been to school,
or that he could read, though I think his mother must have looked to
that. But I do know that he was well educated. He was innocent of the
bicycle, but I'll warrant he could skate. I know he could swim like an
otter--as I shall presently record--and when it came to running, he
would have been a champion of the cinder-path, to-day. He knew the ways
of poverty and of self-denial; knew the signs of the forest, of wild
animal and Indian; and best of all, I am sure he knew just why he was
carrying a heavy flint-lock in the ragged, hungry ranks of the American
"rebels." It must be admitted, I linger somewhat over my hero; but I
like the lad, and would have the reader come into sympathy with him. I
can see him now as he followed the corporal out of the fort that March
morning. He wore the three-cornered cocked-up hat of the prescribed
uniform, and his powder-horn was slung at his side. The whole guard
very likely wore snowshoes, for the snow lay three feet deep in the
woods, and a thaw had weakened the crust.
Late in the afternoon, soldiers and wood-choppers were startled by the
yells of Indians and Tories, who had gained a hill between them and the
fort. Brant had achieved another of his surprises, and there was no
escape from his party, which seemed to fill the woods. His evident
intent was to make captives and not to kill, though his men had orders
to shoot or tomahawk any who fired in self-defense. Two of Davy's
companions were wounded by the enemy. One of them, Timothy Runnels, was
shot in the mouth, "the ball coming through his cheek; and yet not a
tooth was disturbed, a pretty good evidence, in the opinion of his
comrades, that his mouth was wide open when the ball went in." It fared
more seriously with the other wounded soldier. This man, whose name was
Morfat, had his thigh broken by a bullet. The Indians rushed upon him as
he fell at Davy's side, tomahawked him, scalped him, stripped him and
left him naked upon the snow, thus visiting a special vengeance upon one
who was said to be a deserter from the British. It is further chronicled
that Morfat did not immediately die, but lived until he was found, hours
after, by a party from the fort, finally expiring as his comrades bore
him through the gate of Fort Stanwix.
Davy Ogden had seen this dreadful thing, but with no sign of fear or
sickness. He had already mastered that scorn of suffering and death
which always commended the brave to their Indian captors. He was ranged
up with the other prisoners, and Brant asked of each his name. When Davy
gave his, the great chief exclaimed:
"What, a son of Ogden the beaver-hunter, that old scouter? Ugh! I wish
it were he instead of you! But we will take care of his boy or he may
become a scouter too!"
Thus began David's captivity, as the prisoner, and perhaps receiving
some of the special regard, of Brant himself. There could have been
little doubt in Davy's mind, from the moment of his capture, that he was
to be carried to Fort Niagara; yet the first move of the party was
characteristic of Indian strategy; for instead of taking the trail
westward, they all marched off to the eastward, coming upon the Mohawk
some miles below Fort Stanwix. They forded the river twice, the icy
water coming above their waists. On emerging upon the road between Fort
Stanwix and Fort Herkimer, Brant halted his sixteen prisoners and caused
the buckles to be cut from their shoes. These he placed in a row in the
road, where the first passing American would be sure to see them. There
was something of a taunt in the act, and a good deal of humor; and we
may be sure that Joseph Brant, who was educated enough, and of great
nature enough, to enjoy a joke, had many a laugh on his way back to
Niagara as he thought of those thirty-two buckles in a row.
The prisoners tied up their shoes with deerskin strings, and trudged
along through the night until the gleam of fires ahead and a chorus of
yells turned their thoughts towards the stake and an ignominious
martyrdom. But their fate was easier to meet. In a volley of sixteen
distinct yells for the prisoners and one for the scalp, the party--said
to number 100 Indians and fifty Tories--entered the first camp, where
squaws were boiling huge kettles of samp--pounded corn--eaten without
salt. All fared equally well, and all slept on the ground in the snow,
Davy and his fellows being guarded by British soldiers.
The next day's march brought them to Oneida Castle, often the
headquarters of Brant in his expeditions. Here the Indians dug up from
the snow a store of unhusked corn, and shelled and pounded a quantity
for their long march. Here, too, Davy's three-cornered Revolutionary hat
was taken from him, and in its place was given him a raccoon skin. All
of the captives except the corporal were similarly treated and the
Indians showed them how to tie the head and tail together. On some the
legs stuck up and on others the legs hung down. I do not know how Davy
wore his--with a touch of taste and an air of gaiety, no doubt; and we
may be sure it made a better head-covering for a march of 250 miles at
that season than would the stiff hat he had lost. Corporal Betts alone
was permitted to keep his hat, as insignia of rank, and it is to be
hoped he got some comfort out of it.
It would take too long to give all the dismal details of Davy's dreary
tramp across the State. Other captivities which I have spoken of had
incidents of more dire misery and greater horror than befel the party
to which Ogden belonged; and this is one reason why I have chosen to
dwell upon his adventures, because my aim is, by a personal narrative,
to illustrate the average experience of the time.
There were hundreds of American prisoners brought to Fort Niagara during
the period we are studying, but it would be far from just to their
captors, and would throw our historical perspective out of focus, to
take the extreme cases as types for the whole.
Yet, put it mildly as we can, the experience persists in being serious.
At Oneida Castle Brant, evidently fearing pursuit, roused his party in
the middle of the night, and a forced march was begun through the heavy
timber and up and down the long hills to the westward. When the moon
went down they halted, but at the first streak of daylight they pushed
on, not waiting even to boil their samp. An occasional handful of
parched corn, pounded fine and taken with a swallow of water, was all
the food any of the party had that day.
The next encampment was on the Onondaga River, south of the lake; and
here occurred an incident as characteristic of Indian character as was
the row of shoe-buckles in the road. Some Indians found a small cannon,
which had probably been abandoned by one of the detachments sent out by
Sullivan on his retreat from the Genesee in '79. Brant, who had plenty
of powder, ordered his American prisoners to load and fire this gun a
number of times, the Indians meanwhile yelling in delight and the
Tories and British enjoying the chagrin of the helpless Americans. Then
the march was resumed; over the watershed to Cayuga Lake, which they
crossed on the ice near the outlet, a long train, each man far from his
fellow, for the ice was rotten and full of air-holes; then along the old
trail to Seneca River, which they forded; thence the route was west by
north, one camp being somewhere between the present villages of Waterloo
and Lyons. Brant on this expedition appears to have kept to the north of
Kanadasaga.[23] A day later they came to the outlet of Canandaigua Lake,
where the Indians, finding a human head which they said was the head of
a Yankee, had an improvised game of football with it, with taunts and
threats for the edification of their prisoners. The next day they
crossed the Genesee River, at or near the old Genesee Castle. And still,
as throughout all this march, unsalted, often uncooked, samp was their
only food.
On the march Davy and each of his fellows had worn about their necks a
rope of some fourteen or sixteen feet in length. In the daytime these
ropes were wound about their necks and tied. At night they were unwound,
each prisoner placed between two captors, and one end of the rope was
fastened to each of the double guard. Under the circumstances it is no
reflection upon our hero's courage that he had not made his escape.
West of the Genesee, and beyond the country which had been ravaged by
Sullivan, signs of Indian occupancy multiplied; but as yet there was no
other food than corn to be had for their ill-conditioned bodies. As they
filed along the trail, through the snow and mud of March, they met
another large party just setting out from Niagara on a foray for
prisoners and scalps. There were noisy greetings and many exultant
yells; and as the outbound savages passed the prisoners, they snatched
from each one's head the raccoon-skin cap; so that for the rest of the
journey Davy and his companions met the weather bare-headed--all save
Corporal Betts, to whom again was still spared the old three-cornered
hat. The incident bespeaks either the lack of control or the negligent
good nature of Brant, for fifteen raccoon-skins at Fort Niagara would
surely have been worth at least fifteen quarts of rum. Corporal Betts,
however, must have got little comfort out of his hat; for seeing him
look so soldierly in it, the whim seized upon Brant to compel the
unlucky corporal to review his woebegone troops.
"Drill your men," said the fun-loving chief, "and let us see if these
Yankees can go through the tactics of Baron Steuben."
And so poor Betts, but with a broken spirit, mustered his forlorn guard,
dressed them in a straight line, and put them through the manual
according to Steuben. I doubt if the history of Western New York can
show a stranger military function than this reluctant muster of patriot
prisoners under compulsion of a playful tiger of an Indian, jeered at
meanwhile by British soldiers from Fort Niagara. When these latter went
too far in their ridicule Brant stopped them. "The Yankees," he said
angrily, "do it a damned sight better than you can."
This affair took place, as nearly as I can make out, somewhere between
Batavia and Lockport; probably not far from the old Indian village of
Tonawanda.
Being now in the valley of the Tonawanda, Brant seems to have sent ahead
a runner to announce his approach; for the second or third day after
crossing the Genesee they were met by a party from the fort, bringing
pork and flour, whereupon there was a camp and a feast; with the not
strange result that many of them had to return to the astringent parched
corn as a corrective.
From this point on Davy and his friends were subjected to a new
experience; for, as they passed through the Indian villages, the old
women and children exercised their accustomed privilege of beating and
abusing the prisoners. On one occasion, as Davy was plodding along the
path, a squaw ran up to him, and, all unawares, hit him a terrific blow
on the side of the head, whereupon the boy came near getting into
trouble by making a vigorous effort to kick the lady. At another time,
as David marched near Brant, he saw a young Indian raise a pole,
intending to give the prisoner a whack over the head. Davy dodged, and
the blow fell on Brant's back. The chief, though undoubtedly hurt, paid
no attention to the Indian lad, but advised Davy to run, and Davy,
knowing perfectly well that to run away meant torture and death, wisely
ran towards the fort, which was but a few miles distant. A companion
named Hawkins, who had marched with him, ran by his side. And, as they
ran, they came upon still another village of the Senecas, from which two
young savages took after them. Believing that their pursuers would
tomahawk them, the boys let out a link or two of their speed, and coming
to a creek where logs made a bridge, Hawkins hid under the bridge, while
Davy ran behind a great buttonwood tree. The young Indians, however, had
seen them, and on coming up, one of them promptly went under the bridge,
and the other around the tree for Davy. This Indian held out his hand in
friendship, and said: "Brother, stop." And the boys, seeing that the
Indians had no tomahawks and could do them no harm, were reassured, and
they all went on together toward Fort Niagara.
Soon they met a detail of soldiers from the fort, who detained them
until the rest of the party came up, when Davy saw that some of his
friends had been so badly wounded by the assaults of these village
Indians that they were now being carried. As the party went on together,
the path was continually lined with Indians, whose camps were on the
open plains about the fort; and the clubbing and beating of the
prisoners became incessant. This was all a regular part of a triumphal
return to Fort Niagara of a party of British and Indians with American
prisoners, and was the mild preliminary of that dread ordeal known as
running the gauntlet.
When Davy, well to the front of the procession, had been marched some
distance farther through the wood, he looked out upon a clearing, across
which extended a long line of fallen trees, which lay piled with the
butts inward, so that the sharpened points of the forked branches all
pointed outwards, making a _chevaux-de-frise_ upon which one might
impale himself, but which could scarcely be scaled. Beyond this barrier,
as Davy looked, he saw, first, the wagon road which ran between this
_chevaux-de-frise_ and the palisades or pickets of the fort beyond.
Within the palisades he could see the outlines of the fortification, the
upper part of the old castle which still stands there, and other
buildings, and over all the red flag of Great Britain. But while he
noted these things, his chief regard must have fallen upon the great
crowd of Indians who were ranged along on either side of the road
between the outwork of fallen trees and the palisades--two close ranks
of painted savages in front, and behind them on either side a dense mass
of yelling, gesticulating bucks, squaws, old men and children, impatient
for the passing of the prisoners. Beyond, the British sentries, officers
and other inmates of the fort, awaited the sport, like spectators at a
play.
Davy knew the gravity and the chances of the situation. He knew the
Indian custom, which does not seem to have been at all interfered with
by the officers in command at Niagara,[24] which allowed the spectator
to assault or wound the prisoner who should run between the ranks, in
any way which his ingenuity could suggest, except with hatchets and
knives; these could be used only on prisoners whose faces were painted
black, by which sign wretches doomed to death were known; yet any
prisoner, even the black-painted ones, who lived through the gauntlet
and gained the gate of the fort, was safe from Indian judgment, and
could rest his case upon the mercies of the British.
I do not know whether or not Davy's heart stood still for a second, but
I am bound to say there was not a drop of craven blood in his veins. He
was not exactly in training, as we would say of a sprinter today--his
diet, the reader will remember, had been somewhat deficient. But if he
hesitated or trembled it was not for long. We can see him as he stands
between the soldiers from the fort--bareheaded, ragged, dirty; a blanket
pinned about his shoulders and still with the rope about his neck by
which he was secured at night. And now, as his guards look back to see
the others come up, Davy tightens the leather strap at his waist, takes
a deep breath, bends low, darts forward, and is half way down the line
before the waiting Indians know he is coming.
How he does run! And how the yells and execrations follow! There is a
flight of stones and clubs, but not one touches the boy. One huge
savage steps forward, to throw the runner backward--he clutches only the
blanket, which is left in his hands, and Davy runs freer than before.
The twenty rods of this race for life are passed, and as the boy dashes
upon the bridge by which the road into the fort crosses the outer ditch,
he is confronted by an evil-looking squaw, who aims a blow with her fist
square at his face. Davy knocks up her arm with such force that she
sprawls heavily to the ground, striking her head on one of the great
spikes that held the planking. And straight on runs Davy, not down the
road along the wall to the place set for prisoners, but through the
inner gate, under the guard-house; and so, panting and spent, out upon
the old parade-ground.
Thus came the boy-soldier of the Revolution, David Ogden, to Fort
Niagara, 118 years ago.
The sentries hailed him with laughter and jeers, and asked him what he
was doing there. "Go back," they said, "under the guard-house and down
the road outside the wall, to the bottom."
This was where Guy Johnson's house stood, and there the prisoners were
to report. But when Davy looked forth he concluded that discretion was
the better part of valor, for the angry Indians had closed upon his
fellows who followed, and were clubbing them, knocking them down and
kicking them; so that of the whole party taken prisoners near Fort
Stanwix, Davy Ogden was the only one who reached Fort Niagara without
serious harm. Turning back upon the parade ground he flatly refused to
go out again, whereupon the officer of the guard was called, who
questioned him, took pity on him, and sheltered him in his own quarters
for three days.
Now, if this were a mere story, we would expect, right here, a happy
turn in Davy's fortunes. As matter of fact, the most dismal days in
Davy's life were just to begin. He had hoped that the worst would be
detention at the fort, and a speedy shipment down the lake to Montreal,
for exchange. But after some days he was summoned to Guy Johnson's
house, where were many Indians, and here he was handed over to a squaw
to be her son, in place of one she had lost in the war. David was
powerless; and after what, many years later, he described as a powwow
had been held over him, he was led away by the squaw and her husband. A
British soldier, named Hank Haff, added to his grief by telling him that
he was adopted by the Indians and would have to live with them forever;
and, as he was led off across the plain, away from his friends and even
from communication with the British, who were at least of his own blood,
it was small consolation to know that his adopted father's name was
Skun-nun-do, that the hideous old hag, his mother, was Gunna-go-let,
that there was a daughter in the wigwam named Au-lee-zer-quot,
or that his own name was henceforth to be Chee-chee-le-coo, or
"Chipping-bird"--a good deal, I submit, for a soldier of the Revolution
to bear, even if he were only a boy.[25]
David lived with this fine family for over two years, being virtually
their slave, and always under circumstances which made escape
impossible. He dressed in Indian fashion, and learned their language,
their yells and signal whoops. During the first months of his adoption,
their wigwam was about four miles from the fort--presumably east or
southeast of it; and one of David's first duties was to go with
Gunna-go-let out on to the treeless plain overlooking Lake Ontario,
where the old squaw had found a prize in the shape of a horse which had
died of starvation. David helped her cut up the carcass and "tote" it
home--and he was glad to eat of the soup which she made of it. They were
always hungry. Skun-nun-do being a warrior, the burden of providing for
the family fell upon Gunna-go-let. Her principal recourse was to cut
faggots in the woods and carry them to the fort. Many a time did she and
Davy Ogden carry their loads of firewood on their backs up to the fort,
glad to receive in exchange cast-off meat, stale bread or rum. So much
of this work did Davy do during the two years that he was kept with
these Indians that his back became sore, then calloused.
When he had lived with Gunna-go-let three months, she packed up and
moved her wigwam to the carrying-place, now Lewiston. Here there was
cleared land, and some 200 huts or wigwams were pitched, while the
Indians planted, hoed and gathered a crop of corn. Davy was kept hard at
work in the field, or in carrying brooms, baskets and other things to
the fort for sale.
When he had been at the carrying-place about a year and a half, he saw a
large party of captives brought in from the settlements. Among them was
a young woman who had been at Fort Stanwix when Ogden was on duty there.
As she sat in the camp, Davy being present, she began to observe him
carefully. Although our hero was dressed as an Indian--Indian gaiters, a
short frock belted at the waist, and with his hair cut close to the
scalp over the whole head except a long tuft on the crown--yet this poor
girl saw his real condition and soon learned who he was. There was no
chance for confidences. What little they said had to be spoken freely,
without feeling, as if casually between strangers indifferent to each
other. She told David that she was gathering cowslip greens in a field,
when an Indian rushed upon her and carried her away. What she endured
while being brought to the Niagara I leave to the imagination. Davy saw
her carried away by her captors across the river into Canada; and thus
vanishes Hannah Armstrong, for I find no mention of her except in this
reminiscence of her drawn from Ogden's own lips.
About this time David was taken to the fort, old Gunna-go-let having
heard that the British would give her a present for the lad. Davy
trudged the nine miles from their hut to the fort with a good heart, for
to him the news meant a chance of exchange. At Guy Johnson's house he
and his mother sat expectant on the steps. Presently out came Capt.
Powell, who had married Jane Moore--who had herself been brought to the
fort a captive from Cherry Valley. This fine couple, from whom the lad
had some right to expect kindness, paraded up and down the "stoop" or
verandah of the house for a while, the wife hanging on her captain's arm
and both ignoring the boy. At length they paused, and Capt. Powell said:
"You are one of the squaw boys? Do you want to quit the Indians?"
"Yes," said Davy, heart in mouth.
"What for?" quizzed the captain.
"To be exchanged--to get back home, to my own country."
"Well," said Powell, "if you really want to get free from the Indians
come up and enlist in Butler's Rangers. Then we can ransom you from this
old squaw--will you do it?"
"No, I won't!" blazed Davy, fiercely.
Capt. Powell turned on his heel. "Go back with the Indians again and be
damned!" and with that he vanished into the house; and we have no means
of knowing whether Jane, his wife, had by this time become so "Tory"
that she made no protest; but it is pleasanter to think of her as
remembering her own captivity, and, still loyal at heart, as interceding
for the boy.[26] But that was the end of it for this time, and back
Davy went, with an angry squaw, to continue his ignoble servitude until
the next spring. Then word spread all through the region that the
prisoners must be brought into Fort Niagara, and this time Davy was not
disappointed, for with many others he was hurried on board the schooner
Seneca and carried to Oswego. Obviously the news of the preparations for
a peace had reached Niagara. Although the Treaty of Paris was not signed
until September 3d of that year (1783), yet the preliminary articles had
been agreed upon in January. The order from the British Ministry to
cease hostilities reached Sir Guy Carleton about the 1st of April, and a
week or so would suffice for its transmission to Niagara. Captives who
had been detained and claimed by the Indians continued to be brought in
during that summer, but we hear no more of returning war parties
arriving with new prisoners. The War of the Revolution was over, even at
remote Niagara, although for one pretext and another--and for some good
reasons--the British held on to Fort Niagara and kept up its garrison
for thirteen years more.
With the sailing of the Seneca the connection of Davy Ogden with Fort
Niagara ended; but no one who has followed his fortunes thus far can
wish to drop him, as it were, in the middle of Lake Ontario. That is
where Davy came near going, for a gale came up which not only made him
and the throng of others who were fastened below decks desperately sick,
but came near wrecking the schooner. She was compelled to put in at
Buck's Island, and after some days reached Oswego, then strongly
garrisoned. Here Davy stayed, still a prisoner, but living with the
British Indians, through the winter. In the spring, with a companion
named Danforth, who stole a loaf of bread for their sustenance, he made
his escape. He ran through the woods, twenty-four miles in four hours;
swam the Oswego River, and on reaching the far side, and fearing
pursuit, did not stop to dress, but ran on naked through the woods until
he and his companion hoped they had distanced their pursuers. A party
had been sent after them from the fort, but on reaching the point where
the boys had plunged into the river, gave up the chase. Ogden and
Danforth pressed on, around Oneida Lake--having an adventure with a bear
by the way, and another with rattlesnakes--and finally, following old
trails, reached Fort Herkimer, having finished their loaf of bread and
run seventy miles on the last day of their flight. Here Davy was among
friends. The officers promptly clothed him, gave him passports, and in a
few days he found his parents at Warrensburg, in Schoharie County.
When the War of 1812 broke out, David took his gun again. He fought at
the Battle of Queenston, where forty men in his own company were killed
or wounded. Two bullets passed through his clothes, but he was unharmed.
We can imagine the interest with which he viewed the Lewiston plateau
where he had lived with Gunna-go-let more than thirty years before.
After the war he returned East, and in 1840 was living in the town of
Franklin, Delaware Co., being then seventy-six years old. The story of
his adventures was gathered from his own lips, but I do not think it has
ever been told before as a part of the history of the Niagara frontier.
A Fort Niagara Centennial.
A FORT NIAGARA CENTENNIAL.
_With Especial Reference to the British Retention of that Post for
Thirteen Years after the Treaty of 1783._[27]
The part assigned to me in these exercises is to review the history of
Fort Niagara; to summon from the shades and rehabilitate the figures
whose ambitions or whose patriotism are web and woof of the fabric which
Time has woven here. It is a long procession, led by the disciples of
St. Francis and Loyola--first the Cross, then the scalping-knife, the
sword and musket. These came with adventurers of France, under sanction
of Louis the Magnificent, who first builded our Fort Niagara and with
varying fortunes kept here a feeble footing for four score years, until,
one July day, Great Britain's wave of continental conquest passed up the
Niagara; and here, as on all the frontier from Duquesne to Quebec,
"The lilies withered where the Lion trod."[28]
The fragile emblem of France vanished from these shores, and the triple
cross waved over Fort Niagara until, 100 years ago to-day, it gave way
to a fairer flag. This is the event we celebrate, this, with the
succeeding years, the period we review: a period embracing three great
wars between three great nations; covering our Nation's birth, growth,
assertion and maintenance of independence. The story of Fort Niagara is
peculiarly the story of the fur trade and the strife for commercial
monopoly; and it is, too, in considerable measure, the story of our
neighbor, the magnificent colony of Canada, herself worthy of full
sisterhood among the nations. It is a story replete with incident of
battle and siege, of Indian cruelty, of patriot captivity, of white
man's duplicity, of famine, disease and death,--of all the varied forms
of misery and wretchedness of a frontier post, which we in days of ease
are wont to call picturesque and romantic. It is a story without a dull
page, and it is two and a half centuries long.
Obviously something must be here omitted, for your committee have
allotted me fifteen minutes in which to tell it!
Let us note, then, in briefest way, the essential data of the spot where
we stand.
A French exploratory expedition headed by Robert Cavelier, called La
Salle, attempted the first fortification here in 1679.[29] There was a
temporary Indian village on the west side of the river, but no
settlement here, neither were there trees on this p
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