Home as Found by James Fenimore Cooper (diy ebook reader txt) 📕

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 qua 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