(The seat of the late General Morris.)
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THE pen of the poet and the pencil of the artist have so frequently
united to record the grandeur and sublimity of the Hudson, and with such
graphic fidelity, that little of interest remains unsaid or unsketched.
But when every point of its bold and beautiful scenery might be made the
subject of a picture, and every incident of its past history the theme
of a poem, it requires no great research to discover new and prominent
objects of attraction. Perhaps there is no portion of this beautiful
river which partakes more of the picturesque, or combines more of the
wild and wonderful, than the vicinity of the present view; and when time
shall touch the history of the present with the wand of tradition, and
past events shall live in the memory of the future as legends, romance
will never revel in a more bewitching region. Fiction shall then fling
its imaginative veil over the things we have seen, covering but not
concealing them, and in the plentitude of poetic genius people the drama
of futurity with a thousand exquisite creations, clothed in the
venerated garb of antiquity.
Undercliff, the mansion of the late General George P. Morris, which
forms the principal object in the engraving, is situated upon an
elevated plateau, rising from the eastern shore of the river; and the
selection of such a commanding and beautiful position at once decides
the taste of its intellectual proprietor. In the rear of the villa,
cultivation has placed her fruit and forest trees with a profuse hand,
and fertilized the fields with a variety of vegetable products. The
extent of the grounds is abruptly terminated by the base of a rocky
mountain, that rises nearly perpendicular to its summit, and affords in
winter a secure shelter from the bleak blasts of the north. In front, a
circle of greensward is refreshed by a fountain in the centre, gushing
from a Grecian vase, and encircled by ornamental shrubbery; from thence
a gravelled walk winds down a gentle declivity to a second plateau, and
again descends to the entrance of the carriage road, which leads upwards
along the left slope of the hill through a noble forest, the growth of
many years, until suddenly emerging from its sombre shades, the visitor
beholds the mansion before him in the bright blaze of day. A few
openings in the wood afford an opportunity to catch a glimpse of the
water, sparkling with reflected light; and the immediate transition from
shadow to sunshine is peculiarly pleasing.
Although the sunny prospects from the villa—of the giant mountains in
their eternal verdure, the noble stream when frequent gusts ruffle its
surface into a thousand waves, the cluster of white cottages collected
into the distant village—are glorious, it is only by the lovely light
of the moon, when Nature is in repose, that their magic influence is
fully felt. We were fortunate in having an opportunity to contemplate
the scene at such an hour. The moon had risen from a mass of clouds
which formed a line across the sky so level that fancy saw her ascending
from the dark sea, and her silvery light lay softened on the landscape;
silence was over all, save where the dipping of a distant oar was echoed
from the deep shadows of the rocks. Sometimes the white sail of a sloop
would steal into sight from the deep gloom, like some shrouded spirit
gliding from the confines of a giant’s cavern, recalling the expressive
lines by Moore:—
“The stream is like a silvery lake,
And o’er its face each vessel glides
Gently, as if it feared to wake
The slumber of the silent tides.”
General Morris published some time ago a volume of lyrical effusions,
called “The Deserted Bride, and other Poems.” Many of them have been
written among the fairy beauties of Undercliff, and under the
inspiration of that true poetic feeling which such enchanting scenes are
so likely to elicit. Where so many gems of genius enrich a work, it
becomes difficult to decide upon that most worthy of selection. It is
not our province or intention to review the volume, but we cannot resist
the inclination to make an extract, because it seems so beautiful an
accessory to the subject, and must create an added interest in the
engraving. Where scenes are so replete with the poetry of Nature, they
are best illustrated by the poetry of numbers; but we were particularly
delighted with the following lines, addressed to his young daughter. The
natural simplicity of the subject is well expressed by the purity of its
poetic images, and breathes the refinement of paternal affection.
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