"First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa."
SHAKSPEARE.
The conflagration alluded to, rather than described, in the
proceeding chapter, threw a gloom over the gaieties of New-York, if
that ever could be properly called gay, which was little more than a
strife in prodigality and parade, and leaves us little more to say of
the events of the winter. Eve regretted very little the interruption
to scenes in which she had found no pleasure, however much she
lamented the cause; and she and Grace passed the remainder of the
season quietly, cultivating the friendship of such women as Mrs.
Hawker and Mrs. Bloomfield, and devoting hours to the improvement of
their minds and tastes, without ever again venturing however, within
the hallowed precincts of such rooms as those of Mrs. Legend.
One consequence of a state of rapacious infatuation, like that which
we have just related, is the intensity of selfishness which smothers
all recollection of the past, and all just anticipations of the
future, by condensing life, with its motives and enjoyments, into the
present moment. Captain Truck, therefore, was soon forgotten, and the
literati, as that worthy seaman had termed the associates of Mrs.
Legend, remained just as vapid, as conceited, as ignorant, as
imitative, as dependent, and as provincial as ever.
As the season advanced, our heroine began to look with longings
towards the country. The town life of an American offers little to
one accustomed to a town life in older and more permanently regulated
communities; and Eve was already heartily weary of crowded and noisy
balls, (for a few were still given;) _belles_, the struggles of an
uninstructed taste, and a representation in which extravagance was so
seldom relieved by the elegance and convenience of a condition of
society, in which more attention is paid to the fitness of things.
The American spring is the least pleasant of its four seasons, its
character being truly that of "winter lingering in the lap of May."
Mr. Effingham, who the reader will probably suspect, by this time, to
be a descendant of a family of the same name, that we have had
occasion to introduce into another work, had sent orders to have his
country residence prepared for the reception of our party; and it was
with a feeling of delight that Eve stepped on board a steam-boat to
escape from a town that, while it contains so much that is worthy of
any capital, contains so much more that is unfit for any place, in
order to breathe the pure air, and to enjoy the tranquil pleasare of
the country. Sir George Templemore had returned from his southern
journey, and made one of the party, by express arrangement.
"Now, Eve," said Grace Van Cortlandt, as the boat glided along the
wharves, "if it were any person but you, I should feel confident of
having something to show that _would_ extort admiration."
"You are safe enough, in that respect, for a more imposing object in
its way, than this very vessel, eye of mine, never beheld. It is
positively the only thing that deserves the name of magnificent I
have yet seen, since our return,--unless, indeed, it may be
magnificent projects."
"I am glad, dear coz, there is this one magnificent object, then, to
satisfy a taste so fastidious."
As Grace's little foot moved, and her voice betrayed vexation, the
whole party smiled; for the whole party, while it felt the justice of
Eve's observation, saw the real feeling that was at the bottom of her
cousin's remark. Sir George, however, though he could not conceal
from himself the truth of what had been said by the one party, and
the weakness betrayed by the other had too much sympathy for the
provincial patriotism of one so young and beautiful, not to come to
the rescue.
"You should remember, Miss Van Cortlandt," he said, "that Miss
Effingham has not had the advantage yet of seeing the Delaware,
Philadelphia, the noble bays of the south, nor so much that is to be
found out of the single town of New-York."
"Very true, and I hope yet to see her a sincere penitent for all her
unpatriotic admissions against her own country. _You_ have seen the
Capitol, Sir George Templemore; is it not, truly, one of the finest
edifices of the world?"
"You will except St. Peter's, surely, my child," observed Mr.
Effingham, smiling, for he saw that the baronet was embarrassed to
give a ready answer.
"And the Cathedral at Milan," said Eve, laughing.
"_Et le Louvre_!" cried Mademoiselle Viefville, who had some such
admiration for every thing Parisian, as Eve had for every thing
American.
"And, most especially, the north-east corner of the south-west end of
the north-west wing of Versailles," said John Effingham, in his usual
dry manner.
"I see you are all against me," Grace rejoined, "but I hope, one day,
to be able to ascertain for myself the comparative merits of things.
As nature makes rivers, I hope the Hudson, at least, will not be
found unworthy of your admiration, gentlemen and ladies."
"You are safe enough, there, Grace," observed Mr Effingham; "for few
rivers, perhaps no river, offers so great and so pleasing a variety,
in so short a distance, as this."
It was a lovely, bland morning, in the last week of May; and the
atmosphere was already getting the soft hues of summer, or assuming
the hazy and solemn calm that renders the season so quiet and soothing,
after the fiercer strife of the elements. Under such a sky, the
Palisadoes, in particular, appeared well; for, though wanting in the
terrific grandeur of an Alpine nature, and perhaps disproportioned
to the scenery they adorned, they were bold and peculiar.
The great velocity of the boat added to the charm of the passage, the
scene scarce finding time to pall on the eye; for, no sooner was one
object examined in its outlines, than it was succeeded by another.
"An extraordinary taste is afflicting this country, in the way of
architecture," said Mr. Effingham, as they stood gazing at the
eastern shore; "nothing but a Grecian temple being now deemed a
suitable residence for a man, in these classical times. Yonder is a
structure, for instance, of beautiful proportions, and, at this
distance, apparently of a precious material, and yet it seems better
suited to heathen worship than to domestic comfort."
"The malady has infected, the whole nation," returned his cousin,
"like the spirit of speculation. We are passing from one extreme to
the other, in this, as in other things. One such temple, well placed
in a wood, might be a pleasant object enough, but to see a river
lined with them, with children trundling hoops before their doors,
beef carried into their kitchens, and smoke issuing, moreover, from
those unclassical objects chimnies, is too much even of a high taste;
one might as well live in a fever. Mr. Aristabulus Bragg, who is a
wag in his way, informs me that there is one town in the interior
that has actually a market-house on the plan of the Parthenon!"
"_Il Cupo di Bove_ would be a more suitable model for such a
structure," said Eve, smiling. "But I think I have heard that the
classical taste of our architects is any thing but rigid."
"This _was_ the case, rather than _is_" returned John Effingham, "as
witness all these temples. The country has made a quick and a great
_pas, en avant_, in the way of the fine arts, and the fact shows what
might be done with so ready a people, under a suitable direction. The
stranger who comes among us is apt to hold the art of the nation
cheap, but, as all things are comparative, let him inquire into its
state ten years since, and look at it to-day. The fault just now, is
perhaps to consult the books too rigidly, and to trust too little to
invention; for no architecture, and especially no domestic
architecture, can ever be above serious reproach, until climate, the
uses of the edifice, and the situation, are respected as leading
considerations. Nothing can be uglier, _per se_, than a Swiss
cottage, or any thing more beautiful under its precise circumstances.
As regards these mushroom temples, which are the offspring of Mammon,
let them be dedicated to whom they may, I should exactly reverse the
opinion, and say, that while nothing can be much more beautiful, _per
se_, nothing can be in worse taste, than to put them where they are."
"We shall have an opportunity of seeing what Mr. John Effingham can
do in the way of architecture," said Grace, who loved to revenge some
of her fancied wrongs, by turning the tables on her assailant, "for I
understand he has been improving on the original labours of that
notorious Palladio, Master Hiram Doolittle!"
The whole party laughed, and every eye was turned on the gentleman
alluded to, expecting his answer.
"You will remember, good people," answered the accused by
implication, "that my plans were handed over to me from my great
predecessor, and that they were originally of the composite order.
If, therefore, the house should turn out to be a little complex and
mixed, you will do me the justice to remember this important fact. At
all events, I have consulted comfort; and that I would maintain, in
the face of Vitruvius himself, is a _sine quâ non_ in domestic
architecture."
"I took a run into Connecticut the other day," said Sir George
Templemore, "and, at a place called New Haven, I saw the commencement
of a taste that bids fair to make a most remarkable town. It is true,
you cannot expect structures of much pretension in the way of cost
and magnitude in this country, but, so far as fitness and forms are
concerned, if what I hear be true, and the next fifty years do as
much in proportion for that little city, as I understand has been
done in the last five, it will be altogether a wonder in its way.
There are some abortions, it is true, but there are also some little
jewels."
The baronet was rewarded for this opinion, by a smile from Grace, and
the conversation changed. As the boat approached the mountains, Eve
became excited, a very American state of the system by the way, and
Grace still more anxious.
"The view of that bluff is Italian;" said our heroine, pointing down
the river at a noble headland of rock, that loomed grandly in the
soft haze of the tranquil atmosphere. "One seldom sees a finer or a
softer outline on the shores of the Mediterranean itself."
"But the Highlands, Eve!" whispered the uneasy Grace. "We are
entering the mountains."
The river narrowed suddenly, and the scenery became bolder, but
neither Eve nor her father expressed the rapture that Grace expected.
"I must confess, Jack," said the mild, thoughtful Mr. Effingham,
"that these rocks strike my eyes as much less imposing than formerly.
The passage is fine, beyond question, but it is hardly grand
scenery."
"You never uttered a juster opinion, Ned, though after your eye loses
some of the forms of the Swiss and Italian lakes, and of the shores
of Italy, you will think better of these. The Highlands are
remarkable for their surprises, rather than for their grandeur, as we
shall presently see. As to the latter, it is an affair of feet and
inches, and is capable of arithmetical demonstration. We have often
been on lakes, beneath beetling cliffs of from three to six thousand
feet in height; whereas, here, the greatest elevation is materially
less than two. But, Sir George Templemore, and you, Miss Effingham,
do me the favour to combine your cunning, and tell me whence this
stream cometh, and whither we are to go?"
The boat had now approached a point where the river was narrowed to a
width not much exceeding a quarter of a mile, and in the direction in
which it was steering, the water seemed to become still more
contracted until they were lost in a sort of bay, that appeared to be
closed by high hills, through which, however, there were traces of
something like a passage.
"The land in that direction looks as if it had a ravine-like
entrance," said the baronet; "and yet it is scarcely possible that a
stream like this can flow there!"
"If the Hudson truly passes through those mountains," said Eve, "I
will concede all in its favour that you can ask, Grace."
"Where else can it pass?" demanded Grace, exultingly.
"Sure enough--I see no other place, and that seems insufficient."
The two strangers to the river now looked curiously around them, in
every direction. Behind them was a broad and lake-like basin, through
which they had just passed; on the left, a barrier of precipitous
hills, the elevation of which was scarcely less than a thousand feet;
on their right, a high but broken country, studded with villas, farm-
houses, and hamlets; and in their front the deep but equivocal bay
mentioned.
"I see no escape!" cried the baronet, gaily, "unless indeed, it be by
returning."
A sudden and broad sheer of the boat caused him to turn to the left,
and then they whirled round an angle of the precipice, and found
themselves in a reach of the river, between steep declivities,
running at right angles to their former course.
"This is one of the surprises of which I spoke," said John Effingham,
"and which render the highlands so _unique_; for, while the Rhine is
very sinuous, it has nothing like this."
The other travellers agreed in extolling this and many similar
features of the scenery, and Grace was delighted; for, warm-hearted,
affectionate, and true, Grace loved her country like a relative or a
friend, and took an honest pride in hearing its praises. The
patriotism of Eve, if a word of a meaning so lofty can be applied to
feelings of this nature, was more discriminating from necessity, her
tastes having been formed in a higher school, and her means of
comparison being so much more ample. At West Point they stopped for
the night, and here every body was in honest raptures; Grace, who had
often visited the place before, being actually the least so of the
whole party.
"Now, Eve, I know that you _do_ love your country," she said, as she
slipped an arm affectionately through that of her cousin. "This is
feeling and speaking like an American girl, and as Eve Effingham
should!"
Eve laughed, but she had discovered that the provincial feeling was
so strong in Grace, that its discussion would probably do no good.
She dwelt, therefore, with sincere eloquence on the beauties of the
place, and for the first time since they had met, her cousin felt as
if there was no longer any point of dissension between them.
The following morning was the first of June, and it was another of
those drowsy, dreamy days, that so much aid a landscape. The party
embarked in the first boat that came up, and as they entered Newburgh
bay, the triumph of the river was established. This is a spot, in
sooth, that has few equals in any region, though Eve still insisted
that the excellence of the view was in its softness rather than in
its grandeur. The country-houses, or boxes, for few could claim to be
much more, were neat, well placed, and exceedingly numerous. The
heights around the town of Newburgh, in particular, were fairly
dotted with them, though Mr. Effingham shook his head as he saw one
Grecian temple appear after another.
"As we recede from the influence of the vulgar architects," he said,
"we find imitation taking the place of instruction. Many of these
buildings are obviously disproportioned, and then, like vulgar
pretension of any sort, Grecian architecture produces less pleasure
than even Dutch."
"I am surprised at discovering how little of a Dutch character
remains in this state," said the baronet; "I can scarcely trace that
people in any thing, and yet, I believe, they had the moulding of
your society, having carried the colony through its infancy."
"When you know us better, you will be surprised at discovering how
little of any thing remains a dozen years," returned John Effingham.
"Our towns pass away in generations like their people, and even the
names of a place undergo periodical mutations, as well as every thing
else. It is getting to be a predominant feeling in the American
nature, I fear, to love change."
"But, cousin Jack, do you not overlook causes, in your censure. That
a nation advancing as fast as this in wealth and numbers, should
desire better structures than its fathers had either the means or the
taste to build, and that names should change with persons, are both
things quite in rule."
"All very true, though it does not account for the peculiarity I
mean. Take Templeton, for instance; this little place has not
essentially increased in numbers, within my memory, and yet fully
one-half its names are new. When he reaches his own home, your father
will not know even the names of one-half his neighbours. Not only
will he meet with new faces, but he will find new feelings, new
opinions in the place of traditions that he may love, an indifference
to every thing but the present moment, and even those who may have
better feelings, and a wish to cherish all that belongs to the holier
sentiments of man, afraid to utter them, lest they meet with no
sympathy."
"No cats, as Mr. Bragg would say."
"Jack is one who never paints _en beau_," said Mr. Effingham. "I
should be very sorry to believe that a dozen short years can have
made all these essential changes in my neighbourhood."
"A dozen years, Ned! You name an age. Speak of three or four, if you
wish to find any thing in America where you left it! The whole
country is in such a constant state of mutation, that I can only
liken it to that game of children, in which as one quits his corner,
another runs into it, and he that finds no corner to get into, is the
laughing-stock of the others. Fancy that dwelling the residence of
one man from childhood to old age; let him then quit it for a year or
two, and on his return he would find another in possession, who would
treat him as an impertinent intruder, because he had been absent two
years. An American 'always,' in the way of usages, extends no further
back than eighteen months. In short, every thing is condensed into
the present moment; and services, character, for evil as well as good
unhappily, and all other things, cease to have weight, except as they
influence the interests of the day."
"This is the colouring of a professed cynic," observed Mr. Effingham,
smiling.
"But the law, Mr. John Effingham," eagerly inquired the
baronet--"surely the law would not permit a stranger to intrude in
this manner on the rights of an owner."
"The law-_books_ would do him that friendly office, perhaps, but what
is a precept in the face of practices so ruthless. '_Les absents out
toujours tort_,' is a maxim of peculiar application in America."
"Property is as secure in this country as in any other, Sir George;
and you will make allowances for the humours of the present
annotator."
"Well, well, Ned; I hope you will find every thing _couleur de rose_,
as you appear to expect. You will get quiet possession of your house,
it is true, for I have put a Cerberus in it, that is quite equal to
his task, difficult as it may be, and who has quite as much relish
for a bill of costs, as any squatter can have for a trespass; but
without some such guardian of your rights, I would not answer for it,
that you would not be compelled to sleep in the highway."
"I trust Sir George Templemore knows how to make allowances for Mr.
John Effingham's pictures," cried Grace, unable to refrain from
expressing her discontent any longer.
A laugh succeeded, and the beauties of the river again attracted
their attention. As the boat continued to ascend, Mr. Effingham
triumphantly affirmed that the appearance of things more than
equalled his expectations, while both Eve and the baronet declared
that a succession of lovelier landscapes could hardly be presented to
the eye.
"Whited sepulchres!" muttered John Effingham--"all outside. Wait
until you get a view of the deformity within."
As the boat approached Albany, Eve expressed her satisfaction in
still stronger terms; and Grace was made perfectly happy, by hearing
her and Sir George declare that the place entirely exceeded their
expectations.
"I am glad to find, Eve, that you are so fast recovering your
American feelings," said her beautiful cousin, after one of those
expressions of agreeable disappointment, as they were seated at a
late dinner, in an inn. "You have at last found words to praise the
exterior of Albany; and I hope, by the time we return, you will be
disposed to see New-York with different eyes."
"I expected to see a capital in New-York, Grace, and in this I have
been grievously disappointed. Instead of finding the tastes, tone,
conveniences, architecture, streets, churches, shops, and society of
a capital, I found a huge expansion of common-place things, a
commercial town, and the most mixed and the least regulated society,
that I had ever met with. Expecting so much, where so little was
found, disappointment was natural. But in Albany, although a
political capital, I knew the nature of the government too well, to
expect more than a provincial town; and in this respect, I have found
one much above the level of similar places in other parts of the
world. I acknowledge that Albany has as much exceeded my expectations
in one sense, as New-York has fallen short of them in another."
"In this simple fact, Sir George Templemore," said Mr. Effingham,
"you may read the real condition of the country. In all that requires
something more than usual, a deficiency; in all that is deemed an
average, better than common. The tendency is to raise every thing
that is elsewhere degraded to a respectable height, when there
commences an attraction of gravitation that draws all towards the
centre; a little closer too than could be wished perhaps."
"Ay, ay, Ned; this is very pretty, with your attractions and
gravitations; but wait and judge for yourself of this average, of
which you now speak so complacently.
"Nay, John, I borrowed the image from you; if it be not accurate, I
shall hold you responsible for its defects."
"They tell me," said Eve, "that all American villages are the towns
in miniature; children dressed in hoops and wigs. Is this so, Grace?"
"A little; there is too much desire to imitate the towns, perhaps,
and possibly too little feeling for country life."
"This is a very natural consequence, after all, of people's living
entirely in such places," observed Sir George Templemore. "One sees
much of this on the continent of Europe, because the country
population is purely a country population; and less of it in England,
perhaps, because those who are at the head of society, consider town
and country as very distinct things."
"_La campagne est vraiment délicieuse en Amérique_," exclaimed
Mademoiselle Viefville, in whose eyes the whole country was little
more than _campagne_.
The next morning, our travellers proceeded by the way of Schenectady,
whence they ascended the beautiful valley of the Mohawk, by means of
a canal-boat, the cars that now rattle along its length not having
commenced their active flights, at that time. With the scenery, every
one was delighted; for while it differed essentially from that the
party had passed through the previous day, it was scarcely less
beautiful.
At a point where the necessary route diverged from the direction of
the canal, carriages of Mr. Effingham's were in readiness to receive
the travellers, and here they were also favoured by the presence of
Mr. Bragg, who fancied such an attention might be agreeable to the
young ladies, as well as to his employer.