With expectations highly raised, and
for a long time cultivated and encouraged by an eager
inspection of all the prints I could collect, and
a perusal of glowing descriptions in both prose and
poetry, did I at length wake on the morning which
was to introduce me to the beauties of this vaunted
river.
My first act was to rush to my window,
and throw open shutter and sash. It was six o’clock,
the sun was up, and the sky cloudless; thanking my
lucky star, which had prevailed to my wish, I hurried
through my toilet, and away to the foot of Courtland-street,
from whose wharf the steamboat Champion was advertised
to start at seven A.M. Punctual to the hour, we
slipped our moorings, and in a minute were gallantly
heading up the Hudson, breasting its current at the
rate of fifteen miles per hour.
Hoboken and its Elysian fields were
passed like lightning. Casting one backward glance,
I perceived Jersey city floating indistinctly in the
golden haze of morning; whilst the yet more distant
heights of Long and Staten Islands, with the dividing
Narrows, showed like two dusky clouds with a pathway
of silver drawn between.
I was first struck by a near view
of that singular range of cliff, the Palisadoes, so
named from the face of the rock bearing a resemblance
to a gigantic stockade rising from the bank of the
river, along whose southern side it is continued for
a considerable distance. Lee’s Fort is
pointed out; the Tappan Zee is next entered, upon whose
border lies the scene of poor Andre’s capture;
and farther on is the point from which the traitor
Arnold made his timely flight.
All these, with other memorable sites,
are in turn pointed out, glanced at, and rapidly left
behind. But I am free to confess historical associations
were lost upon me; they awakened no sympathy in my
mind; it was absorbed, filled, bewildered, in the
admiration which each rapidly-opening point awakened,
for never before this fair morning had such a succession
of matchless river views passed before my delighted
eyes.
“Write down your first impressions
of scenery when fairly viewed, and your descriptions
will at least have correctness to recommend them.”
Somebody, I know, says something very like this; and
I have hitherto quoted it as an axiom: but alas!
what rule, however sage, but meets exceptions; for
what man endowed with any ordinary share of devotion
to Nature, and admiration of her handiwork, dare venture
to set down his first impressions of this enchanting
Hudson whilst the overwhelming influence it creates
is yet dazzling his imagination! I say overwhelming,
because such, in sober truth, was its first effect
on me.
I was at times unable to venture the
expression of all I felt even to myself: I sought
to avoid the intelligent friends who accompanied me,
and am not ashamed to add, that, albeit “unused
to the melting mood,” I here was affected almost
to weakness. There might, perhaps, have been
chords awakened that helped this fancy; but in no mood
could an enthusiast of Nature, I think, feel otherwise
than “rapt” when free for the first time
to view, on such a day, such glorious magic pass before
his sight; for, in our rapid flight, I could compare
the effect of all I saw to glamour only.
The grape-covered steeps of the old
Rhine, the mountain-enshrined lochs of our Hielans,
with their clear blue waters, and the sweet valleys
in which the little lakes of Killarney are set like
gems,all are lovely, and all of these
appear to me to have contributed models for this masterpiece,
each to be equalled, if not surpassed.
But I must check my pen, since disjointed
eulogium will do little towards satisfying the curious
or silencing the sceptical; and for description in
reasonable detail, worthy the subject, only one hand
in our age has existed endowed by nature to grapple
with such a task, and that wizard hand lies mouldering
now beneath the ruins of Dryburg Abbey!
Above West Point and the pass of the
highlands the river expands grandly, forming the Bay
of Newburg. The town of this name lies prettily
spread along the face of a gently rising hill; and
in a meadow at the foot of the town stands a venerable-looking
stone-built house, rendered memorable from having
been the residence of Washington when at this place;
which, bordering upon his stronghold, the highlands,
was often his head-quarters.
On the opposite side of the river,
deep within the bight of the bay, lies the stirring
town of Fish-kill, occupied by a colony originally
from the island of Nantucket, who carry on from this
place their adventurous trade of whale-fishing; and
appear, indeed, to have roused their neighbours of
Newburg and Hudson to imitate their enterprise; many
ships, the joint property of the most spirited of the
community, being now yearly fitted out in these places,
and sent to hunt the sperm-whale about the world.
Above this bay the river again narrows,
and the scenery upon its banks assumes a softer character:
spacious meadows with well-cultivated lands stretch
widely to the distant wooded heights; the bold outline
of the highlands is drawn about the rear; and in front
the loftier Catskills push their rugged peaks amongst
the clouds.
From Poughkeepsie, numerous country
seats occupy the now park-like banks of the river
to the north, which, although lying from eighty to
one hundred miles distant from New York, may be yet
considered reasonably near; for six or seven hours
brings the boat up, and in the course of the day there
do not pass fewer than five or six. On this morning
I met on board the Champion Messrs. W ’s
and L e, on their way to the summer
abode of their families: they were landed at Hyde
Park, ninety miles distant from New York, before one
o’clock.
By half past five we were laid alongside
the wharf of Albany, having steamed one hundred and
sixty miles in ten hours and a half, including many
stoppages of perhaps a couple of minutes each; and
nothing can be more readily executed than one of these
pulls-up, with the discharge or reception of luggage
or passengers.