See America First Part 11

The Metropolitan Museum of Art should be visited, for it contains the greatest art collection in America. It is located within the borders of Central Park, its princ.i.p.al entrance being on Fifth Avenue, between Eighty-second and Eighty-third streets.

A trip to Bronx park, where the beautiful botanical and zoological gardens are located, should not be missed. It is watered throughout its length by the Bronx river and is one of the most beautiful parks in existence.

As we crossed the ferry over to this wonderful city we thought how scarcely more than three centuries ago, when Paris and London had been great for a thousand years, New York City with its wonderful buildings rising before us was only a little wooded island with here and there scattered tepees, and in place of magnificent avenues and boulevards were found mora.s.ses crossed by streams and presided over by wild beasts.

Civilization was old in Europe before Henry Hudson appeared on this beautiful river.

Some one has described New York as a chaotic city, where huge ma.s.ses of masonry and iron rise mountain high with no relationship existing between any of the structures. One views their stupendous forms as he does the mountains along the Hudson. "They are serrated, presenting ragged, irregular outlines, which are lost in the accidental sky-line, giving one at once the impression of power, wealth, and aggressiveness."

The vast, impenetrable wall of solid masonry along the river is almost as wonderful as the Palisades.

The magnetic attraction of such an enormous amount of steel concentrated in so small a s.p.a.ce is said to be so great that it frequently varies the points of the compa.s.s on boats in the harbor as much as seven degrees. Here rises the Woolworth building, towering seven hundred fifty feet above the level of the street. It is the highest inhabited structure ever built by man.

How the ceaseless activity and seemingly untiring energy of this great city thrills you! Here the sound of traffic rises continually, not unlike the booming breakers of the ocean. Here ebb and flow those vast throngs of humanity, drawn irresistibly by some compelling force like the tides of the ocean. Think of the lonely hearts among such a throng of people. Think, too, how many hunger while the wharves may be choked with food. "What lives and fates are foreshadowed here." What great souls have toiled and striven and perhaps died unknown to the world.

Then, too, what a.s.sociations gather here! What sacrifice, what triumphs of the early settlers, and alas, what disasters! "Thick cl.u.s.tered as are its walls and chimneys, are its grand achievements, pageants, frivolities;" all interspersed with toil and care.

The scene beheld by Hudson as he came up the river must have been at once grand and of unrivaled wildness. When he made that first memorable voyage up the river, no wonder he thought that here at last was a grand pa.s.sage leading to remote regions not yet visited by man. Start by boat from New York for Albany today and you, too, will feel as though you were bound for some enchanted land.

"A man by the name of Anthony VanCorlaer was dispatched on a war- like mission to the patroon van Rennselaer. When he came to the stream that forms the upper boundary of Manhattan Island, warned not to cross, he still persisted in advancing, intending to gain the other sh.o.r.e by swimming. "Spuyt den Duyvil," he shouted, "I will reach Shoras kappock." But his challenge to the Duyvil was his last, as at that moment his Satanic Majesty, in the form of an enormous moss bunker, took him at his word. This phrase is repeated a thousand times a day by men on the railroad with no idea of invoking the evil spirit. Here it was that the Indians came out to attack the men on the Half-Moon with bows and arrows. Here, too, was the rendezvous of the Indians who menaced Manhattan in early Colonial days. Nearly a thousand braves, hideous in war-paint and feathers, came together and threatened New York. Governor Stuyvesant was absent in the South. The frightened burghers of the little city took to their forts like deer. Fortunate indeed is the person who is privileged a trip along the River Drive on a clear sunny day."

You will probably retain longest in memory those great imposing masterpieces of nature, the Palisades, as seen from the Jersey store. You are fascinated by the wonderful detail and color effects in this picturesque ma.s.s of rocks quite as much as when viewing Niagara. What a perpetual feast of beauty and grandeur the dwellers along this river have before them. These rocks rise like airy battlements from the river, their base laved by the majestic stream, while cloud wreaths float round their emerald crowns.

Of all pleasant memories you carry with you of New York City, that of your journeys along the Riverside Drive will return most often to unroll its panorama before you.

There are few roads in the world that can compare with it, as it not only has a wealth of natural beauty and n.o.ble grandeur, but almost every hill has its historic a.s.sociations no less than the far-famed Rhine.

"Across to Fort Lee along the sheer wall of the Palisades or down past the busy shipping, where Bartholdi's statue lifts her unwearied arm, the outlook presents a display of exquisite charm." The changing hues, evanescent shadows and glimpses of the rising hills--who can ever forget them?

Many people who have looked on the wonderful scenery of the Hudson still long for the time when they shall behold the Rhineland. They will find that legends and traditions, more than the wonderful scenery, give to the Rhine country an added charm.

Every hilltop there is surmounted by a storied castle, which is falling into decay along with so many Old World inst.i.tutions that have been kept green by the ivy of custom and tradition, which can scarcely keep them from tumbling.

It is not our object to belittle any natural scenery, but to make Americans pause to consider the incomparable beauty of their own land, before rushing to other countries.

We shall never forget our trip up the Moselle and Rhine. That the scenery is very beautiful we shall not deny. It was in the lovely month of May in the spring of 1919 that we were favored with a free ride from Uncle Sam through the most beautiful scenery to be found anywhere in Germany. We cast a farewell look at the beautiful meadows of the Meuse and the old Roman towers of Verdun and a nameless longing, a vague inexpressible sadness seemed to take possession of us as our eyes rested for the last time on the gray weather-stained buildings of Glorieux hospital.

In the clear sky a crystal shower of lark notes rippled above us; from the fragrant box hedges nightingales sang their love songs; the air was filled with the riotous notes of the linnet and the loud, sweet phrases of the blackbirds, but we heard them not. For our thoughts wandered back to that spot where many of the buddies whom we had learned to love lay sleeping their long sleep. Near the hospital where thousands of French soldiers had at last found a glad relief from their pain and suffering, straight rows of white crosses met our sight and we knew the grim reaper Death had garnered his choicest sheaves. How quiet, how peaceful was the morning! No thundering cannons or whistling sh.e.l.ls, no sputtering of machine guns or hum of hostile planes was heard. Peace had again come to the valley. The poor peasants were returning to their ruined homes, some carrying all their earthly possessions in bundles. Yet as we looked at that vast field of crosses and thought how the best blood of both France and the United States had been spilled to bring about peace, we shuddered at the awful price paid for it.

We pa.s.sed a number of ruined villages on our way to Toul. From there we had a most delightful trip, motoring through Metz and Luxemburg and arriving at Coblentz late in the evening.

The scenery along the Moselle is in many places just as beautiful as that along the Rhine. The steep hills that ran down to the river were cultivated in many places to near their tops.

All along the railroad track lay plats of vegetables, and the neat homes that nestled at the foot of the hills among blossoming pear trees looked as if "neither care nor want had ever crossed their threshold." The foliage had not yet clothed the vines that rose in terraces far above the houses. At Kochem we beheld the ruins of a splendid castle and monastery. The old cities of Kardon and Treves were seen through a sunlit rain, and the level rays of the descending sun produced an effect of the most singular beauty.

We spent the night in Coblentz and on the following morning set out to see Ehrenbreitstein. The view from this place is very fine. At our feet lay the town with its zigzag fortifications clasped by the silver fork of the two streams that were spanned by four bridges. The great outworks of the fortress reach far beyond, while to the right rise the dark, frowning ma.s.s Of volcanic rocks known as the "Eifel." Far away our eyes rested upon vineyards not yet clothed in verdure.

But the most delightful part of our journey was that from Coblentz to Cologne. Here we pa.s.sed through the lovely region of the Seven Mountains where the old castles "still look down from their heights as if musing on the spirit of the past."

Even after viewing these medieval castles the scenery along the Hudson loses none of its charm. But what a contrast! In place of low vineyard-clad hills, as you see along the Rhine, the majestic Hudson winds in leisurely fashion among its primeval forests, the bases of its mountains laved by its current, while their summits are often shrouded in clouds. You see a grandeur in the majestic sweep of this beautiful river that you will miss in the Rhine. The latter is beautiful, we will admit, but it seems to be swallowed up in detail which detracts rather than adds to the beauty of it. Whoever has seen both rivers will see, if he looks with an impartial eye, the points of excellence found in each. But, standing above the Hudson and gazing out over the wonderful scene from West Point, you forget your Rhenish raptures and exclaim with the traveler "Few spots in the world are as beautiful as this."

As we pa.s.sed through Tarrytown we thought of Stephen Henry Thayer's many "sweet transcripts" redolent with the siren voices of woods and waters of Sleepy Hollow. Like some faint, far-off lullaby we seemed to hear floating across the opposite sh.o.r.es of the Tappan-Zee the tranquil evening reverie of his "Nyack Bells":

"The lurking shadows, dim and mute, Fall vaguely on the dusky river; Vexed breezes play a phantom lute, Athwart the waves that curl and quiver

And hedged against an amber light, The lone hills cling, in vain endeavor To touch the curtained clouds of night, That, weird-like, form and fade forever.

Then break upon the blessed calm,-- Deep dying melodies of even,-- Those Nyack Bells; like some sweet psalm, They float along the fields of heaven.

Now laden with a nameless balm, Now musical with song thou art, I tune thee by an inward charm And make thee minstrel of my heart.

O bells of Nyack, faintly toll Across the starry lighted sea.

Thy murmurs thrill a thirsty soul, And wing a heavenly hymn to me."

How wonderfully beautiful appeared Tarrytown on that quiet Sabbath afternoon of July. The fine homes embowered in a landscape which "for two centuries had known human cultivation seemed to have that touch of ripe old world-beauty which comes from man's long a.s.sociation with Nature; a beauty that revealed to us its depth in warm tones, fullness of foliage of its ancient trees, and velvety smoothness of the lawns which had the appearance of being long loved and cultivated." One is strangely reminded of some charming villas of Nice and, clothed in that dreamy haze, viewed front a distance they need only the blossoming orange trees, mimosas and palms to lift their royal forms about them, to make them a reality. The town rises from the water's edge to the summit of a low hill that runs parallel with the eastern sh.o.r.e of the Hudson. The one main road with many laterals coming into it, is almost buried in ma.s.ses of foliage.

According to Irving, Tarrytown owes its name to the fact that the farmers who used to bring their produce here found the kind hospitality of its taverns so beguiling that they tarried in town until their wives gave it the name. We, after beholding its quiet air of repose and superb charm, did not blame those old Dutch farmers for tarrying in a spot so romantic.

The Hudson here is singularly beautiful and the tranquil waters flow past many legendary and historical places. This town lay in the path of both armies during the Revolution and knew the uncertain terrors of war. It was harried alike by friend and foe. There is a monument near the west side of Broadway, marking the spot where the three patriots, Williams, Paulding and Van Wert, captured Major Andre, the British spy. He was returning from an interview with Benedict Arnold, carrying papers of a treasonable nature for the surrender of West Point to Sir Henry Clinton.

A stone memorial bridge to Irving was presented to the town by William Rockefeller, replacing the bridge over Pocantico brook, at North Tarrytown, over which the headless hors.e.m.e.n of Sleepy Hollow rode. On the east side of the road just north of the bridge is the old Dutch church, built probably in 1697 or possibly earlier. It is no doubt the oldest church in New York state, now holding regular services. Washington Irving is buried in the cemetery of this church, where the river almost unseen flows under its canopy of foliage, while to the north and sloping gently down to the brook lies this ancient burying ground. This peaceful spot, whose gentle slope is dotted with ancient graves, is protected on the northeast by wooded heights, crowned with high old trees. It has a commanding view of the west of the Tappan Zee, the tree embowered town and gleaming river, also the distant front of the Palisades. Andrew Carnegie, Whitelaw Reid and other men of note are buried here. It indeed seems as if when walking here you are treading upon hallowed ground, for how much the world owes to these great souls, Irving and Carnegie. Irving, whose genius combined with toil gave the people the choicest flowers of his fertile brain, and Carnegie who made it possible for millions to enjoy those treasures, make this spot, aside from its quiet beauty, a place of inspiration.

Sunnyside, the home of Washington Irving, is still kept in its original condition, and visitors are welcome certain days of the week. Mrs. Helen Gould Shepard owns a large and beautiful estate here. The Rockefellers also live here.

The glimpses of the broad blue river, the wonderful shrubs and trees and the tranquil and romantic beauty of the hills seen through the blue veil had in them faint suggestions of Indian Summer. This stanza from Hofflnan, who was a life-long friend of Irving, glided from the dim portals of memory:

Light as love's smiles, the silvery mist at morn Floats in loose flakes along the limpid river, The blue-bird notes upon the soft breeze born, As high in air he carols, faintly quiver.

The weeping birch like banners idly waving, Bends to the stream, its spicy branches laving, Beaded with dew, the witch elms' ta.s.sels shiver, The timid rabbit from the furze is peeping, And from the springing spray the squirrels gaily leaping.

FISHKILL

At Fishkill is located the old Dutch church, erected in 1731, which housed the provincial convention of 1776. The blacksmith who forged Washington's sword lived and worked here. The house referred to in Cooper's Spy is also located here. Back of the town rises a ridge of lofty hills covered in many places by forests. Here if you go to the summit a remarkably fine view of vast extent and most pleasing variety may be obtained. How often here on Beacon Hill the lurid glare of great signal fires painted the ebon curtains of the night with their ominous glow.

How often they warned the warriors on distant hillsides of the approach of an enemy or their crimson glow spoke with many fiery tongues that peace had been declared. It was viewed by many a weary patriot or fierce Indian warrior from the wooded peaks of the Catskills to the high elevations of the Alleghenies, or more distant heights of Mount Graylock in Ma.s.sachusetts, or Mount Washington in New Hampshire.

Here at the base of these glorious hills the American army at one time camped and fortifications were thrown up upon hills that command an approach to the spot. Here, too, were brought from the battle of White Plains the wounded and dying soldiers who lie in unidentified graves above the place. But their graves need no headstones to tell of the valor, n.o.bleness of purpose, and self-sacrifice that our nation might live and breathe the pure air of freedom. As we gazed with tear-stained eyes at these nameless graves we felt that exaltation of spirit which comes when some grand triumphant strain of music fills the soul. White anemones nod on their slender stems and blood root still sheds its white petals upon the mounds as if to hallow the sacred spot.

>From New Hamburg you see a curious projection on the west sh.o.r.e of the river known as the Duyvil's Dans Kamer (Devil's Dance Chamber). On this projecting rock, containing about one-half acre, the Indians used to hold their powwows. Here by the glow of their fires, that brought out weird, spectral shadows they a.s.sembled.

If you could behold this place as it appeared in their day, when owls sent their mysterious greetings and the melancholy plaint of the whippoorwill, like voices from wandering spirits, mingled with the wail of night winds, you would not wonder why the red man chose this spot to practice his strange rites with wild, savage ceremonies to invoke the Evil Spirit. "Here the Medicine Men worked themselves into a frenzy by their violent and strange dances." Here, while the strange cries of night birds and frogs rose like weird incantations it is easy to see how the imaginative mind of the Indian could believe in this place as the abode of evil spirits.

"The Military Academy at West Point was an idea of the fertile mind of Washington. The plan was his but it was not built until 1802. The training of the officers who took part in the Mexican War was received here. What a test their training received beneath the fervid heat in an unhealthy land 'where they conquered the enemy without the loss of a single battle.

"The chapel at West Point is decorated with flags, cannon, and war trophies. Tablets honoring the memory of Washington's generals are placed upon the walls, one alone being remarkable from the fact that the name is erased leaving only the date of his birth and death. That place could have been filled by the name of Benedict Arnold."

How beautiful and far-reaching the scenery here at West Point.

One finds it almost as difficult to get past these highlands as in the days when we found British men of war on the Hudson, for the ringing notes of the red coated cardinal again come like a renewed challenge from his fortress of grapevines to every lover of Nature to linger here, and the note of the thrush with his bell-like notes takes captive many a traveler.

POUGHKEEPSIE

Imagine, if you can, a wide vista opening before you, in the far distance faint blue peaks that seem to blend with the horizon scarcely discernible; within the nearer circle of your vision smoothly flowing hills, rising in soft and graceful curves, and from their summits to near their bases, thick with dark pine, hemlock and balsam fir, interspersed with birch, mountain maple and oak resembling a vast sea of emerald; within the rising hills a large s.p.a.ce with velvety meadows, rich with the color of the Oxeye daisy and first golden rods; and brooding over it all, that indescribable misty veil of purplish blue, and you still have only a faint idea of the grandeur and majesty of these hills along the Hudson.

>From the superb highways with their lovely maples and elms overreaching them, one never tires of the magic of those deep, delicious hues that enfold the sunny landscape as with a mantle.