JUNE 14th, 1840.
_My dear E._--The variety of scenes which have passed before my eyes
since I last beheld you, and the crowd of new ideas acquired thereby,
have not obliterated your Shaksperian adieu from my mind:
“Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply see’st
Some rare note-worthy object in thy travels,”
were your last words--in consequence of this desire, I hereby send you
all I deem note-worthy. With what delight did I find myself once more
upon the Hudson! Although so often seen, to me it is still lovely, for
custom cannot stale its beauties. I pass along this river as through a
gallery of cabinet pictures. The sunny vista and romantic glen of
Gainsborough--the frowning cliff and murderous dell of Rosa--the Dutch
cottage of Teniers--the Italian villa and graceful trees of classic
Weir--cattle, as if just sprung from out a Berghman and grouped upon the
shore, or standing ‘in the cool translucent wave,’ their ‘loose train of
amber-dropping hair,’ not being ‘braided with lilies,’ but occupied in
flapping the flies away!--all these, and many more are placed side by
side before me as I float along.
You have never seen this famed stream, and I will therefore describe it
to you minutely. Mine will not be ‘notes by the way,’ nor ‘crayoning,’
nor ‘pencil sketches,’ but perfect Daguerrotype likenesses of all I see.
With a bold rush our steamboat was free of the wharf and out into the
stream. Ascend now to the upper deck with me and you will obtain a fine
view of the city of New York and its noble bay. Upon one side lies the
city with its mass of houses, churches, and vessels; beyond is Long
Island. Observe what a pretty back ground is Staten Island: its numerous
white buildings show well against the green elevated ridge behind them;
then turn your eye to the opposite side and you will behold New Jersey,
with its pretty city, and villages, and churches; and in the center of
all this is the glassy water covered with steamboats, brigs, ships of
war, and vessels of all sizes, and dotted with pretty fortress islets.
Hoboken with its neat church and romantic colonade are passed, and the
rugged cliffs of Weehawken rise upon our left as we ascend the river.
These cliffs are the commencement of the Palisade rocks, which soon
retreat into the interior to arise again above. Bull’s Ferry (worthy of
a better name,) next appears, with Fort Lee, pretty rural retreats,
whose white houses, churches, and fences, are pencilled as with white
chalk upon the river’s green and sloping bank.
From the east side, turret and spire have passed away, and villages and
country seats adorn the shores until we arrive at Spuyten Duyvel creek,
rendered famous by the redoubtable Van Corlear, who swore he would pass
it in spigt den Duyvel; and also as being the boundary line of Manhattan
Island. To a hasty observer, the shores beyond this are as lonely and
wild as if we were hundreds of miles from any city; but if you will fix
your eyes steadily upon the woodlands which line the river banks, you
will catch glimpses, between the trees, of Grecian portico, Yankee
piazza, or Dutch gable, telling of many a summer haunt of the city’s
‘tired denizen.’
Upon the west side the Palisade commences, a perpendicular wall, or to
speak more scientifically, ‘a columnar escarpement,’ from three to eight
hundred feet high, and two miles broad, thus continuing for twenty miles
along the New Jersey side of the river. As you dabble in geology, I must
not forget to tell you these rocks are of the trap formation, passing
into green stone. Under it are layers of slate, sandstone, and grey
limestone, much of which is used in the city and its neighborhood.
Sloops were lying at the foot of the rocks, as we passed, taking in
their load of sandstone flagging, or roofing slate for the use of the
citizens. These sloops, which carry masts sixty or seventy feet high,
show the height of these cliffs, as when seen anchored below them they
appear like skiffs. A few stone-cutters have erected cottages upon the
rocks, which might be taken for children’s houses. Shrubbery is seen in
some spots, while a green fringe of trees is waving from the summit.
These rocks have stood the brunt of that mighty torrent which wise men
tell us once rushed over the country from the north-west, as if some
lake had burst its barrier--for bowlders washed from the Palisades are
seen in various parts of Manhattan Island and Long Island. To the
alluvium brought down by this flood, we are indebted for Manhattan
Island and Staten Island. What a pity ‘wise saws’ are out of fashion, or
I could lengthen my epistle by telling what ‘modern instances’ these
islands are, of the ‘good’ brought down by ‘ill winds.’
As we are both now tired of these Palisades, it is very pretty of them
to retire as they do, into the country, making a fine back ground to the
rich land lying upon the river’s bank, adorned with several picturesque
townlets. These are Nyack, reclining upon a verdant slope; Haverstraw,
nestled under a high, green promontory; and Tappan, which ought to have
been first mentioned. This is, however, but the ‘landing’ of the town of
that name, lying a few miles in the interior, and whose ‘heavens’ ought
to be ‘hung with black,’ for the sake of the talented and unfortunate
Andre, whose silver cord was here untimely loosed.
The river swells out into a broad lake, called Tappan sea, which ought
to be spelled Tap-pann Zee. The west side I have described, except that
from these towns the ground rises into an elevated green ridge of
Haverstraw, and then descends gracefully to the water, ending in a low
level spot, covered with a rich velvet sward, dotted with groups of
oaks, and evergreens, among which a silver rivulet winds its happy way.
This is very prettily called Grassy Point.
Upon our right hand we have smooth, lawn-like slopes, over which the
buildings of Yonkers, Tarrytown, and Dobbs’ Ferry (harmonious sounds,)
are straggling, or reposing in graceful groups upon every gentle swell.
Sing Sing, with its long range of prisons, is before us; so called, I
suppose, that the inhabitants of those abodes may have something
cheerful about them. It is a lovely spot commanding a beautiful view of
the river scenery--so lovely that I am almost tempted to be _wicked_,
that I may be ordered to reside there, and sit like a Naiad sing singing
upon a
“diamond rock,
Sleeking her soft alluring lock.”
That is all very well, you will say, when the rock is already cut out
for you to sit upon; but where one is obliged to hew out one’s own rock,
as do these woful sing-singers, it would be as well to abandon the place
to the heroes who there do congregate. They quarry a white granular
limestone which is used as building material. The antique Dutch church
looks very well, seated upon an eminence; and Wolfert’s Roost, with its
Dutch points and gables, the residence of the celebrated Irving, is
another interesting object upon this shore.
Look behind you quickly, if you would take a last farewell of Staten
Island, whose dark outline has, until now, filled up the back ground,
although we are thirty miles from it. As we turn towards the narrow
outlet between Stoney and Verplanck’s Points, the Palisades are sweeping
around to the east, and rapidly shoving in their side scene between us
and the Island. Now it is gone, and the Narrows are fast being covered,
through which you might, if your eyes could see so far, descry the green
ocean and its gallant barks. The river now seems a lake behind us, upon
whose bright bosom a fleet of vessels, like a flock of birds, are
skimming, and ducking, or reposing upon the water. Two _Points_ defend
the entrance to the Highlands: Stony Point on the west, a bold rocky
promontory, formed of fine horneblend granite rock, and surmounted by a
light-house; Verplanck’s on the east presents a small village,
containing a pretty fanciful hotel, and some lordly dwellings upon the
elevated ground above. These are now behind us, and we find ourselves in
the Grand Pass of the Highlands. Beautiful creations they are--high,
green cones, sweeping gradually down to the water’s edge, where they
sometimes appear a verdant precipice nearly two thousand feet high; or
projecting their spurs into the river, and crossing each other so that
the Hudson must wind hither and thither to follow the tortuous path
between them. Various lights give new beauties to these hills. It is
pleasant when the sun shines broad and bright upon them, to penetrate
with your eye their green recesses, or endeavor to distinguish whether
those bushes on the summit are indeed trees or no; and again when a
cloud passes, running rapidly over the surface, the effect is very
beautiful. As we were near the centre of the Pass, the sun was obscured,
and a heavy shower clothed every thing with gloom.--Through the sombre
light they seemed like giant mastadon or mammoth of olden times,
couching down upon each side, musing upon the changes which have taken
place upon this diluvial earth. The rain has ceased, and the mist has
all retired into the mountain caves, save on one spot near the summit,
where it lowering stands, like one of Ossian’s ghosts, whose wont it is,
he tells us, to ‘fly on clouds, and ride on winds.’ Or, it may be the
wandering spirit of some red warrior who has perished on these shores,
and now haunts the scene of his former triumphs.
Upon a promontory jutting out from the river, are situated the Military
Schools of West Point. It is a summer’s day well spent to ramble over
that pretty spot. If you care not for the Schools, nor to see the
orderly young cadets, you may admire the monument dedicated to
Kosciusco, or walk in his garden as they call the spot where he used to
‘sit on rocks’ and muse upon the sweets of Liberty--or you may climb up
to that ruined fortress crowning the summit of the mountain which
overhangs the Point. From thence you have a fine view of all the rugged,
cultivated, wild, adorned and varied country for miles around--and of
that broad silver stream bearing upon its waters many a graceful vessel.
The dusky peaks and dells, and undulations of the several mountains
around are here distinctly seen.
The Dunderberg, where is the thunder’s home, raises its frowning head at
the right, followed by Bare Mountain, Sugar Loaf, Bull’s Hill, Crow’s
Nest, Butter Hill, Breakneck Hill, and many others bearing designations
equally euphonius. Among these hills, beside West Point, are many spots
famous in the history of our country. Do not be afraid, I am not going
to begin ‘In the year 17--’ nor tell of the iron chain which bound
Anthony by the nose to the Fort opposite; nor arouse your indignation
by pointing to the chimneys of Arnold’s house; nor make you sad by
speaking again of Andre; nor arouse your patriotism by relating the
deeds here done in times of old. Let the past be _by-gones_; and turn to
the present whose sun is shining down upon the pretty village of Cold
Spring opposite to us, and upon that romantic white chapel dedicated to
‘Our Lady of Cold Spring,’ which is so tastefully perched upon a rock
washed by the Hudson’s waters. At West Point is a depot of fossil
enfusoria, and sulphur has also been found. Shooting out of the Highland
Pass, we find ourselves in a broad expanse of water, presenting some of
the prettiest views to be seen upon the river. Seated upon the
elevations of the left bank are many towns; Newburgh being the most
conspicuous as it is the largest: and it is built upon a high cliff of
argillaceous slate, thus displaying its numerous houses and churches to
advantage. The opposite shore presents a beautiful green mountain wall,
the highest peak of which is 1689 feet above the river. At its foot
reposes the smiling town of Fishkill.
I must not linger thus by the way. Remember I have four thousand miles
to travel and the summer is passing. Imagine then to yourself a broad
and beautiful river, skirted with cultivated country with often a
mountainous back ground, and rich with ‘summer’s green emblazoned
field’--and wafting upon its waters river-craft of all forms, from the
lazy whaler returning after a four year’s cruise, to the little pleasure
yacht. There are many towns on this river, one of which, Poughkeepsie,
is rendered famous as being the place where Washington, Hamilton, Jay
and Chancellor Livingston met, to compose the Constitution of the
United States. The city of Hudson is agreeably situated upon the summit
of a slaty cliff commanding a view of the Catskill mountains, and the
town of Athens on the opposite bank of the river. Imagine, scattered
like gems upon the borders of the stream, pretty villas of Grecian,
Gothic and nondescript styles, the homes of the Livingstons, Dewitts,
Ellisons, Verplancks, Van Renselears, Schuylers, and other gentlemen of
taste and wealth. I saw nothing of those Dutch elves and fays which the
genius of Irving has conjured up, among the dells and rocks of the
Hudson--those creatures are unfortunately out of fashion; and one might
as well look for them as for high heeled shoes. Perhaps they will come
in with the ancient modes. If I thought so, I would immediately order
hoop, train, cushion, buckle, high heel, and all the odious costume
which rendered my ancestresses so hideous. Alas I fear the ‘mincing
dryades’ with high crowned hats, are all departed--and no more--
“On the tawny sands and shelves,
Trip the pert fairies, and the dapper elves.”
Albany appears at great advantage seated upon a side hill, presenting a
mass of imposing buildings surmounted by many a tall steeple, and
crowned by the Capitol and City Hall, from whose gilded dome the evening
sunbeams are brightly streaming.
I have said nothing about my gallant bark, nor my company--the first a
large and rapid steamboat, arranged with satin cushioned and canopied
saloons--the latter a mixture of all countries and sexes.
But we are at the wharf and I must put up my papers. Adieu.