Thus rise, high over the valley, "the rough turrets of the Highland
towers." The Indians believed this mountain region was created by the
mighty spirit Manetho, to protect his favorite abodes from the
unhallowed eyes of mortals. Their tradition was that the vast
mountains of rock were raised before the Hudson poured its waters
through them, and within them was a prison where the omnipotent
Manetho confined rebellious spirits. Here, bound by adamantine chains,
jammed in rifted pines, or crushed under ponderous crags, they groaned
for ages. At length the mighty Hudson burst open their prison-house,
rolling its overwhelming tide triumphantly through the stupendous
ruins. Entering the pass, it really seems as if the Hudson River
channel ought to run up where Jan Peek went, but instead it goes
sharply around the ponderous base of the Donderberg Mountain. This is
a very narrow gateway, where the swift tidal current makes the "Race,"
and in an instant the contracted passage is opened between the
Donderberg on the left and Anthony's Nose on the right, entering this
beautiful Highland district, which Chateaubriand has likened to "a
large bouquet tied at its base with azure ribbon." As the narrow
strait is traversed, Iona Island, tree-clad and attractive, appears
ahead, and the winds usually blow a lively gale, buffeted from one
mountain side to the other. The tide runs swiftly around the base of
Anthony's Nose, and the romantic Brocken Kill pours down his sloping
side, while through the jutting point of the Nose the railway has
pierced a tunnel, making on either side a veritable nostril. The huge
tree-covered mountain rises grandly to the clouds, while just over the
tunnel at the point, a mass of protruding rocks and timber makes a
first-class pimple to ornament the Nose. This is one of the prominent
Highland peaks, rising over twelve hundred feet, and is said by some
to have been named from a fancied resemblance to the nose of the great
St. Anthony, the Egyptian monk of the third century.
Irving, however, has given us the more popular tradition that it was
named in memory of luckless Anthony the Trumpeter, who met his fate at
Spuyten Duyvel. The veracious historian Knickerbocker writes: "It must
be known that the nose of Anthony the Trumpeter was of a very lusty
size, strutting boldly from his countenance like a mountain of
Golconda, being sumptuously bedecked with rubies and other precious
stones--the true regalia of a king of good fellows--which jolly
Bacchus grants to all who bouse it heartily at the flagon. Now, thus
it happened, that bright and early in the morning the good Anthony,
having washed his burly visage, was leaning over the quarter railing
of the galley, contemplating it in the glossy wave below. Just at this
moment, the illustrious sun, breaking in all his splendor from behind
a high bluff of the Highlands, did dart one of his most potent beams
full upon the nose of the sounder of brass, the reflection of which
shot straightway down hissing hot into the water and killed a mighty
sturgeon that was sporting beside the vessel. This huge monster, being
with infinite labor hoisted on board, furnished a luxurious repast to
all the crew, being accounted of excellent flavor, except about the
wound, where it smacked a little of brimstone, and this, on my
veracity, was the first time that ever sturgeon was eaten in these
parts by Christian people. When this astonishing miracle became known
to Peter Stuyvesant, and he tasted of the unknown fish, he, as may
well be supposed, marvelled exceedingly, and as a monument thereof, he
gave the name of 'Anthony's Nose' to a stout promontory in the
neighborhood, and it has continued to be called 'Anthony's Nose' ever
since that time."