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We toiled up the ascent, which, though by comparison with its over-peering fellows inconsiderable, was a sufficiently fatiguing undertaking under the unclouded weather and over the unshaded downs that form the parade-ground for the cadets. West Point is a military establishment, containing some two hundred and fifty pupils, who are here educated for the army under the superintendence of experienced officers.[59] The buildings, in which they reside and pursue their various studies, stand upon a grassy knoll holding the top of the rocky bank of the river, and commanding a most enchanting view of its course. They are not particularly extensive, but commodious and well-ordered. I am told they have a good library; but on reaching the dwelling of Mr. Cozzens (proprietor of the hotel, which being at this season shut, he received us most hospitably and courteously in his own house), I felt so weary, that I thought it impossible I should stir again for the whole day, and declined seeing it. I had walked on the deck at an amazing pace, and without once sitting down, from eight o'clock till eleven; and I think must nearly have killed Colonel ——, who was my companion during this march. However, upon finding that it wanted full an hour till dinner-time, it was agreed that we should go up to the fort, and we set off under the guidance of one of Mr. Cozzens' servants, who had orders not to go too fast with us. Before turning into the woods that cover the foot of the mountain, we followed a bit of road that overhung the river; and stealing over its sleepy-looking waters, where shone like stars the white sails of many a tiny skiff, came the delicious notes of a bugle-horn. The height at which we stood above the water prevented the ear being satisfied with the complete subject of the musician, but the sweet broken tones that came rising from the far-down thickets that skirted the river had more harmony than a distinct and perfect strain. I stood entranced to listen—the whole was like a dream of fairy-land: but presently our guide struck into the woods, and the world became screened from our sight. I had thought that I was tired, and could not stir, even to follow the leisurely footsteps of our cicerone; but tangled brake and woodland path, and rocky height, soon roused my curiosity, and my legs following therewith, I presently outstripped our party, guide and all, and began pursuing my upward path, through close-growing trees and shrubs, over pale shining ledges of granite, over which the trickling mountain springs had taken their silvery course; through swampy grounds, where the fallen leaves lay like gems under the still pools that here and there shone dimly in little hollow glens; over the soft starry moss that told where the moist earth retained the freshening waters, over sharp hard splinters of rock, and rough masses of stone. Alone, alone, I was alone and happy, and went on my way rejoicing, climbing and climbing still, till the green mound of thick turf, and ruined rampart of the fort arrested my progress. I coasted the broken wall, and, lighting down on a broad smooth table of granite fringed with young cedar bushes, I looked down, and for a moment my breath seemed to stop, the pulsation of my heart to cease—I was filled with awe. The beauty and wild sublimity of what I beheld seemed almost to crush my faculties,—I felt dizzy as though my senses were drowning,—I felt as though I had been carried into the immediate presence of God. Though I were to live a thousand years, I never can forget it. The first thing that I distinctly saw was the shadow of a large cloud, which rolled slowly down the side of a huge mountain, frowning over the height where I stood. The shadow moved down its steep sunny side, threw a deep blackness over the sparkling river, and then passed off and climbed the opposite mountain on the other shore, leaving the world in the full blaze of noon. I could have stretched out my arms, and shouted aloud—I could have fallen on my knees, and worshipped—I could have committed any extravagance that ecstasy could suggest. I stood filled with amazement and delight, till the footsteps and voices of my companions roused me. I darted away, unwilling to be interrupted. Colonel —— was following me, but I peremptorily forbade his doing so, and was clambering on alone, when the voice of our guide, assuring me that the path I was pursuing was impassable, arrested my course. My father beckoned to me from above not to pursue my track; so I climbed through a break, which the rocky walls of nature and the broken fortifications of art rendered tolerably difficult of access, and running round the wall joined my father on his high stand, where he was holding out his arms to me. For two or three minutes we mingled exclamations of delight and surprise: he then led me to the brink of the rampart; and, looking down the opposite angle of the wall to that which I was previously coasting, I beheld the path I was then following break suddenly off, on the edge of a precipice several hunched feet down into the valley: it made me gulp to look at it. Presently I left my father, and, after going the complete round of the ruins, found out for myself a grassy knoll commanding a full view of the scene, sufficiently far from my party not to hear their voices, and screened from seeing them by some beautiful young cedar bushes; and here I lay down and cried most abundantly, by which means I recovered my senses, which else, I think, must have forsaken me. How full of thoughts I was! Of God's great might, and gracious goodness, of the beauty of this earth, of the apparent nothingness of man when compared with this huge inanimate creation, of his wondrous value, for whose delight and use all these fair things were created! I thought of my distant home; that handful of earth thrown upon the wide waters, whose genius has led the kingdoms of the world—whose children have become the possessors of this new hemisphere. I rejoiced to think that when England shall be, as all things must be, fallen into the devouring past, her language will still be spoken among these glorious hills, her name revered, her memory cherished, her fame preserved here, in this far world beyond the seas, this country of her children's adoption. Poor old mother! how she would remain amazed to see the huge earth and waters where her voice is heard, in the name of every spot where her descendants have rested the soles of their feet: this giant inheritance of her sons, poor, poor, old England!
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Where are the poets of this land? Why, such a world should bring forth men with minds and souls larger and stronger than any that ever dwelt in mortal flesh! Where are the poets of this land? They should be giants, too; Homers and Miltons, and Goethes and Dantes, and Shakspeares. Have these glorious scenes poured no inspirings into hearts worthy to behold and praise their beauty? Is there none to come here and worship among these hills and waters till his heart burns within him, and the hymn of inspiration flows from his lips, and rises to the sky? Is there not one among the sons of such a soil to send forth its praises to the universe, to throw new glory round the mountains, new beauty over the waves? Is inanimate nature, alone, here "telling the glories of God?" Oh, surely, surely, there will come a time when this lovely land will be vocal with the sound of song, when every close-locked valley and waving wood, rifted rock and flowing stream, shall have their praise. Yet 'tis strange how marvellously unpoetical these people are! How swallowed up in life and its daily realities, wants, and cares! How full of toil and thrift, and money-getting labour! Even the heathen Dutch, among us the very antipodes of all poetry, have found names such as the Donder Berg for the hills, whilst the Americans christen them Butter Hill, the Crow's Nest, and such like. Perhaps some hundred years hence, when wealth has been amassed by individuals, and the face of society begins to grow checkered, as in the old lands of Europe, when the whole mass of population shall no longer go running along the level road of toil and profit, when inequalities of rank shall exist, and the rich man shall be able to pay for the luxury of poetry, and the poor man who makes verses no longer be asked, "Why don't you cast up accounts?" when all this comes to pass, as perhaps some day it may, America will have poets. It seems strange to me that men, such as the early settlers in Massachusetts, the Puritan founders of New England, the "Pilgrim Fathers," should not have had amongst them some men, or at least man, in whose mind the stern and enduring courage, the fervent enthusiastic piety, the unbending love of liberty, which animated them all, became the inspiration to poetic thought, and the suggestion of poetical utterance. They should have had a Milton or a Klopstock amongst them. Yet, after all, they had excitement of another sort, and, moreover, the difficulties and dangers, and distresses of a fate of unparalleled hardship, to engross all the energies of their minds; and I am half inclined to believe that poetry is but a hothouse growth, and yet I don't know: I wish somebody would explain to me every thing in this world that I can't make out.[60] We came down from the mountain at about half-past one: our party had been joined by Colonel ——, governor of the College, who very courteously came toiling up to Fort Putnam, to pay his compliments to us. I lingered far behind them, returning; and, when they were out of sight, turned back, and once more ascended the ruin, to look my last of admiration and delight, and then down, down, every step bringing me out of the clouds, farther from heaven, and nearer this work i' day world. I loitered, and loitered, looking back at every step; but at last the hills were shut out by a bend in the road, and I came into the house to throw myself down on the floor, and sleep most seriously for half an hour; at the end of which time we were called to dinner.
In England, if an innkeeper gives you a good dinner, and places the first dish on the table himself, you pay him, and he's obliged to you. Here, an innkeeper is a gentleman, your equal, sits at his table with you, you pay him, and are obliged to him besides. 'Tis necessary therefore for a stranger, but especially an Englishman, to understand the fashions of the land, else he may chance to mistake that for an impertinent familiarity, which is in fact the received custom of the country. Mr. Cozzens very considerately gave us our dinner in a private room, instead of seating us at an ordinary with all the West Point officers. Moreover, gave in the literal sense, and a very good dinner it was. He is himself a very intelligent courteous person, and, during the very short time that we were his guests, showed us every possible attention and civility. We had scarce finished our dinner, when in rushed a waiter to tell us that the boat was in sight. Away we trotted, trailing cloaks, and shawls, any-how fashion, down the hill. The steamer came puffing up the gorge between the mountains, and in a moment we were bundled into the boat, hauled alongside, and landed on the deck; and presently the glorious highlands, all glowing in the rosy sunset, began to recede from us. Just as we were putting off from shore, a tiny skiff, with its graceful white sail glittering in the sun, turned the base of the opposite hill, evidently making to the point whence we embarked. I have since learned that it contained a messenger to us, from a gentleman bearing our name, and distantly connected with us, proprietor of some large iron-works on the shore opposite West Point. However, our kinsman was too late, and we were already losing sight of West Point, when his boat reached the shore. Our progress homeward was, if any thing, more enchanting than our coming out had been, except for leaving all this loveliness. The sun went down in splendour, leaving the world robed in glorious beauty. The sky was one glowing geranium curtain, into which the dark hills rose like shadow-land, stretching beyond, and still beyond, till they grew like hazy outlines through a dazzling mist of gold. The glory faded; and a soft violet colour spread downwards to the horizon, where a faint range of clouds lay floating like scattered rose leaves. As the day fell, the volumes of smoke from our steam-boat chimneys became streams of fiery sparks, which glittered over the water with a strange unearthly effect. I sat on deck watching the world grow dark, till my father, afraid of the night air, bade me go down; and there, in spite of the chattering of a score of women, and the squalling of half as many children, I slept profoundly till we reached New York, at a quarter to seven.
Saturday, 17th.
After breakfast, wrote journal: while doing so, Mr. —— called to know if I held my mind in spite of the grey look of the morning. A wan sunbeam just then lighted on the earth, and I said I would go; for I thought by about twelve it probably would clear.
* * * * *
They called for me in the carriage at eleven; and afterwards we mounted our steeds in Warren Street to escape the crowd in Broadway. We rode down to the ferry. The creature, on top of which I sat, was the real potatuppy butcher's horse. However, it did not shake me, or pull my arms much, so I was content. As to a horse properly broken, either for man or woman, I have done looking for it in this land. We went into the steam-boat on our horses. The mist lay thick over the river; but the opposite shores had that grey distinctness of colour and outline that invariably foretells rain in England. The wind blew bitterly keen and cold.