“All that thou see'st is Natures handiwork;
Those rocks that upward throw their mossy brawl
Like castled pinnacles of elder times;
These venerable stems, that slowly rock
Their towering branches in the wintry gale;
That field of frost, which glitters in the sun,
Mocking the whiteness of a marble breast!
Yet man can mar such works with his rude taste,
Like some sad spoiler of a virgin's fame.”
--Duo.
Some little while elapsed ere Marmaduke Temple was sufficiently
recovered from his agitation to scan the person of his new companion. He
now observed that he was a youth of some two or three and twenty years
of age, and rather above the middle height. Further observation was
prevented by the rough overcoat which was belted close to his form by a
worsted sash, much like the one worn by the old hunter. The eyes of the
Judge, after resting a moment on the figure of the stranger, were raised
to a scrutiny of his countenance. There had been a look of care visible
in the features of the youth, when he first entered the sleigh, that had
not only attracted the notice of Elizabeth, but which she had been much
puzzled to interpret. His anxiety seemed the strongest when he was enjoining his old companion to secrecy; and even when he had decided, and
was rather passively suffering himself to be conveyed to the village,
the expression of his eyes by no means indicated any great degree
of self-satisfaction at the step. But the lines of an uncommonly
prepossessing countenance were gradually becoming composed; and he now
sat silent, and apparently musing. The Judge gazed at him for some time
with earnestness, and then smiling, as if at his own forgetfulness, he
said:
“I believe, my young friend, that terror has driven you from my
recollection; your face is very familiar, and yet, for the honor of a
score of bucks' tails in my cap, I could not tell your name.”
“I came into the country but three weeks since,” returned the youth
coldly, “and I understand you have been absent twice that time.”
“It will be five to-morrow. Yet your face is one that I have seen;
though it would not be strange, such has been my affright, should I see
thee in thy winding-sheet walking by my bedside to-night. What say'st
thou, Bess? Am I compos mentis or not? Fit to charge a grand jury, or,
what is just now of more pressing necessity, able to do the honors of
Christmas eve in the hall of Templeton?”
“More able to do either, my dear father.” said a playful voice from
under the ample inclosures of the hood, “than to kill deer with a
smooth-bore.” A short pause followed, and the same voice, but in
a different accent, continued. “We shall have good reasons for our
thanksgiving to night, on more accounts than one.”
The horses soon reached a point where they seemed to know by instinct
that the journey was nearly ended, and, bearing on the bits as they
tossed their heads, they rapidly drew the sleigh over the level land
which lay on the top of the mountain, and soon came to the point where
the road descended suddenly, but circuitously, into the valley.
The Judge was roused from his reflections, when he saw the four columns
of smoke which floated above his own chimneys. As house, village, and
valley burst on his sight, he exclaimed cheerfully to his daughter:
“See, Bess, there is thy resting-place for life! And thine too, young
man, if thou wilt consent to dwell with us.”
The eyes of his auditors involuntarily met; and, if the color that
gathered over the face of Elizabeth was contradicted by the cold
expression of her eye, the ambiguous smile that again played about
the lips of the stranger seemed equally to deny the probability of his
consenting to form one of this family group. The scene was one, however,
which might easily warm a heart less given to philanthropy than that of
Marmaduke Temple.
The side of the mountain on which our travellers were journeying, though
not absolutely perpendicular, was so steep as to render great care
necessary in descending the rude and narrow path which, in that early
day, wound along the precipices. The negro reined in his impatient
steeds, and time was given Elizabeth to dwell on a scene which was so
rapidly altering under the hands of man, that it only resembled in its
outlines the picture she had so often studied with delight in childhood.
Immediately beneath them lay a seeming plain, glittering without
in equality, and buried in mountains. The latter were precipitous,
especially on the side of the plain, and chiefly in forest. Here and
there the hills fell away in long, low points, and broke the sameness
of the outline, or setting to the long and wide field of snow, which,
without house, tree, fence, or any other fixture, resembled so much
spot less cloud settled to the earth. A few dark and moving spots were,
however, visible on the even surface, which the eye of Elizabeth knew to
be so many sleighs going their several ways to or from the village. On
the western border of the plain, the mountains, though equally high,
were less precipitous, and as they receded opened into irregular valleys
and glens, or were formed into terraces and hollows that admitted of
cultivation. Although the evergreens still held dominion over many
of the hills that rose on this side of the valley, yet the undulating
outlines of the distant mountains, covered with forests of beech and
maple, gave a relief to the eye, and the promise of a kinder soil.
Occasionally spots of white were discoverable amidst the forests of the
opposite hills, which announced, by the smoke that curled over the
tops of the trees, the habitations of man and the commencement of
agriculture. These spots were sometimes, by the aid of united labor,
enlarged into what were called settlements, but more frequently
were small and insulated; though so rapid were the changes, and so
persevering the labors of those who had cast their fortunes on the
success of the enterprise, that it was not difficult for the imagination
of Elizabeth to conceive they were enlarging under her eye while she was
gazing, in mute wonder, at the alterations that a few short years had
made in the aspect of the country. The points on the western side of
this remarkable plain, on which no plant had taken root, were both
larger and more numerous than those on its eastern, and one in
particular thrust itself forward in such a manner as to form beautifully
curved bays of snow on either side. On its extreme end an oak stretched
forward, as if to overshadow with its branches a spot which its roots
were forbidden to enter. It had released itself from the thraldom that
a growth of centuries had imposed on the branches of the surrounding
forest trees, and threw its gnarled and fantastic arms abroad, in
the wildness of liberty. A dark spot of a few acres in extent at the
southern extremity of this beautiful flat, and immediately under the
feet of our travellers, alone showed by its rippling surface, and the
vapors which exhaled from it, that what at first might seem a plain
was one of the mountain lakes, locked in the frosts of winter. A narrow
current rushed impetuously from its bosom at the open place we have
mentioned, and was to be traced for miles, as it wound its way toward
the south through the real valley, by its borders of hemlock and pine,
and by the vapor which arose from its warmer surface into the chill
atmosphere of the hills. The banks of this lovely basin, at its outlet,
or southern end, were steep, but not high; and in that direction the
land continued, far as the eye could reach, a narrow but graceful
valley, along which the settlers had scattered their humble habitations,
with a profusion that bespoke the quality of the soil and the
comparative facilities of intercourse, Immediately on the bank of the
lake and at its foot, stood the village of Templeton. It consisted of
some fifty buildings, including those of every description, chiefly
built of wood, and which, in their architecture, bore no great marks
of taste, but which also, by the unfinished appearance of most of the
dwellings, indicated the hasty manner of their construction, To the eye,
they presented a variety of colors. A few were white in both front and
rear, but more bore that expensive color on their fronts only, while
their economical but ambitious owners had covered the remaining sides
of the edifices with a dingy red. One or two were slowly assuming the
russet of age; while the uncovered beams that were to be seen through
the broken windows of their second stories showed that either the taste
or the vanity of their proprietors had led them to undertake a task
which they were unable to accomplish. The whole were grouped in a manner
that aped the streets of a city, and were evidently so arranged by the
directions of one who looked to the wants of posterity rather than to
the convenience of the present incumbents. Some three or four of the
better sort of buildings, in addition to the uniformity of their color,
were fitted with green blinds, which, at that season at least, were
rather strangely contrasted to the chill aspect of the lake, the
mountains, the forests, and the wide fields of snow. Before the doors
of these pretending dwellings were placed a few saplings, either without
branches or possessing only the feeble shoots of one or two summers'
growth, that looked not unlike tall grenadiers on post near the
threshold of princes. In truth, the occupants of these favored
habitations were the nobles of Templeton, as Marmaduke was its king.
They were the dwellings of two young men who were cunning in the law; an
equal number of that class who chaffered to the wants of the community
under the title of storekeepers; and a disciple of Aesculapius, who, for
a novelty, brought more subjects into the world than he sent out of it.
In the midst of this incongruous group of dwellings rose the mansion of
the Judge, towering above all its neighbors. It stood in the centre of
an inclosure of several acres, which was covered with fruit-trees. Some
of the latter had been left by the Indians, and began already to assume
the moss and inclination of age, therein forming a very marked contrast
to the infant plantations that peered over most of the picketed fences
of the village. In addition to this show of cultivation were two rows
of young Lombardy poplars, a tree but lately introduced into America,
formally lining either side of a pathway which led from a gate that
opened on the principal street to the front door of the building. The
house itself had been built entirely under the superintendence of a
certain Mr. Richard Jones, whom we have already mentioned, and who, from
his cleverness in small matters, and an entire willingness to exert his
talents, added to the circumstance of their being sisters' children,
ordinarily superintended all the minor concerns of Marmaduke Temple.
Richard was fond of saying that this child of invention consisted of
nothing more nor less than what should form the groundwork of every
clergyman's discourse, viz., a firstly and a lastly. He had commenced
his labors, in the first year of their residence, by erecting a tall,
gaunt edifice of wood, with its gable toward the highway. In this
shelter for it was little more, the family resided three years. By the
end of that period, Richard had completed his design. He had availed
himself, in this heavy undertaking, of the experience of a certain
wandering eastern mechanic, who, by exhibiting a few soiled plates of
English architecture, and talking learnedly of friezes, entablatures,
and particularly of the composite order, had obtained a very undue
influence over Richard's taste in everything that pertained to that
branch of the fine arts. Not that Mr. Jones did not affect to consider
Hiram Doolittle a perfect empiric in his profession, being in the
constant habit of listening to his treatises on architecture with a
kind of indulgent smile; yet, either from an inability to oppose them
by anything plausible from his own stores of learning or from secret
admiration, Richard generally submitted to the arguments of his
co-adjutor. Together, they had not only erected a dwelling for
Marmaduke, but they had given a fashion to the architecture of the whole
county. The composite order, Mr. Doolittle would contend, was an order
composed of many others, and was intended to be the most useful of all,
for it admitted into its construction such alterations as convenience
or circumstances might require. To this proposition Richard usually
assented; and when rival geniuses who monopolize not only all the
reputation but most of the money of a neighborhood, are of a mind, it
is not uncommon to see them lead the fashion, even in graver matters.
In the present instance, as we have already hinted, the castle, as
Judge Templeton's dwelling was termed in common parlance, came to be
the model, in some one or other of its numerous excellences, for every
aspiring edifice within twenty miles of it.
The house itself, or the “lastly,” was of stone: large, square, and far
from uncomfortable. These were four requisites, on which Marmaduke
had insisted with a little more than his ordinary pertinacity. But
everything else was peaceably assigned to Richard and his associate.
These worthies found the material a little too solid for the tools of
their workmen, which, in General, were employed on a substance no harder
than the white pine of the adjacent mountains, a wood so proverbially
soft that it is commonly chosen by the hunters for pillows. But for this
awkward dilemma, it is probable that the ambitious tastes of our two
architects would have left us much more to do in the way of description.
Driven from the faces of the house by the obduracy of the material, they
took refuge in the porch and on the roof. The former, it was decided,
should be severely classical, and the latter a rare specimen of the
merits of the Composite order.
A roof, Richard contended, was a part of the edifice that the ancients
always endeavored to conceal, it being an excrescence in architecture
that was only to be tolerated on account of its usefulness. Besides, as
he wittily added, a chief merit in a dwelling was to present a front on
whichever side it might happen to be seen; for, as it was exposed to
all eyes in all weathers, there should be no weak flank for envy or
unneighborly criticism to assail. It was therefore decided that the
roof should be flat, and with four faces. To this arrangement, Marmaduke
objected the heavy snows that lay for months, frequently covering the
earth to a depth of three or four feet. Happily the facilities of the
composite order presented themselves to effect a compromise, and the
rafters were lengthened, so as to give a descent that should carry
off the frozen element. But, unluckily, some mistake was made in the
admeasurement of these material parts of the fabric; and, as one of the
greatest recommendations of Hiram was his ability to work by the “square
rule,” no opportunity was found of discovering the effect until the
massive timbers were raised on the four walls of the building. Then,
indeed, it was soon seen that, in defiance of all rule, the roof was
by far the most conspicuous part of the whole edifice. Richard and his
associate consoled themselves with the relief that the covering would
aid in concealing this unnatural elevation; but every shingle that was
laid only multiplied objects to look at. Richard essayed to remedy
the evil with paint, and four different colors were laid on by his own
hands. The first was a sky-blue, in the vain expectation that the eye
might be cheated into the belief it was the heavens themselves that hung
so imposingly over Marmaduke's dwelling; the second was what he called
a “cloud-color,” being nothing more nor less than an imitation of smoke;
the third was what Richard termed an invisible green, an experiment that
did not succeed against a background of sky. Abandoning the attempt to
conceal, our architects drew upon their invention for means to ornament
the offensive shingles.
After much deliberation and two or three essays by moonlight, Richard
ended the affair by boldly covering the whole beneath a color that he
christened “sunshine,” a cheap way, as he assured his cousin the Judge,
of always keeping fair weather over his head. The platform, as well as
the caves of the house, were surmounted by gaudily painted railings, and
the genius of Hiram was exerted in the fabrication of divers urns and
mouldings, that were scattered profusely around this part of their
labors. Richard had originally a cunning expedient, by which the
chimneys were intended to be so low, and so situated, as to resemble
ornaments on the balustrades; but comfort required that the chimneys
should rise with the roof, in order that the smoke might be carried off,
and they thus became four extremely conspicuous objects in the view.
As this roof was much the most important architectural undertaking in
which Mr. Jones was ever engaged, his failure produced a correspondent
degree of mortification At first, he whispered among his acquaintances
that it proceeded from ignorance of the square rule on the part of
Hiram; but, as his eye became gradually accustomed to the object, he
grew better satisfied with his labors, and instead of apologizing for
the defects, he commenced praising the beauties of the mansion-house;
he soon found hearers, and, as wealth and comfort are at all times
attractive, it was, as has been said, made a model for imitation on
a small scale. In less than two years from its erection, he had the
pleasure of standing on the elevated platform, and of looking down on
three humble imitators of its beauty. Thus it is ever with fashion,
which even renders the faults of the great subjects of admiration.
Marmaduke bore this deformity in his dwelling with great good-nature,
and soon contrived, by his own improvements, to give an air of
respectability and comfort to his place of residence. Still, there was
much of in congruity, even immediately about the mansion-house. Although
poplars had been brought from Europe to ornament the grounds, and
willows and other trees were gradually springing up nigh the dwelling,
yet many a pile of snow betrayed the presence of the stump of a pine;
and even, in one or two instances, unsightly remnants of trees that had
been partly destroyed by fire were seen rearing their black, glistening
columns twenty or thirty feet above the pure white of the snow, These,
which in the language of the country are termed stubs, abounded in the
open fields adjacent to the village, and were accompanied, occasionally,
by the ruin of a pine or a hemlock that had been stripped of its bark,
and which waved in melancholy grandeur its naked limbs to the blast,
a skeleton of its former glory. But these and many other unpleasant
additions to the view were unseen by the delighted Elizabeth, who, as
the horses moved down the side of the mountain, saw only in gross the
cluster of houses that lay like a map at her feet; the fifty smokes that
were curling from the valley to the clouds; the frozen lake as it lay
imbedded in mountains of evergreen, with the long shadows of the pines
on its white surface, lengthening in the setting sun; the dark ribbon
of water that gushed from the outlet and was winding its way toward the
distant Chesapeake--the altered, though still remembered, scenes of her
child hood.
Five years had wrought greater changes than a century would produce in
countries where time and labor have given permanency to the works of
man. To our young hunter and the Judge the scene had less novelty;
though none ever emerge from the dark forests of that mountain, and
witness the glorious scenery of that beauteous valley, as it bursts
unexpectedly upon them, without a feeling of delight. The former cast
one admiring glance from north to south, and sank his face again beneath
the folds of his coat; while the latter contemplated, with philanthropic
pleasure, the prospect of affluence and comfort that was expanding
around him; the result of his own enterprise, and much of it the fruits
of his own industry.
The cheerful sound of sleigh-bells, however, attracted the attention of
the whole party, as they came jingling up the sides of the mountain,
at a rate that announced a powerful team and a hard driver. The bushes
which lined the highway interrupted the view, and the two sleighs were
close upon each other before either was seen.