LANDOR'S COTTAGE
A Pendant to ”The Domain of Arnheim”
DURING A pedestrian trip last summer, through one or two of the rivercounties of New York, I found myself, as the day declined, somewhatembarrassed about the road I was pursuing. The land undulated veryremarkably; and my path, for the last hour, had wound about and about soconfusedly, in its effort to keep in the valleys, that I no longer knewin what direction lay the sweet village of B----, where I had determinedto stop for the night. The sun had scarcely shone--strictlyspeaking--during the day, which nevertheless, had been unpleasantlywarm. A smoky mist, resembling that of the Indian summer, enveloped allthings, and of course, added to my uncertainty. Not that I cared muchabout the matter. If I did not hit upon the village before sunset,or even before dark, it was more than possible that a littleDutch farmhouse, or something of that kind, would soon make itsappearance--although, in fact, the neighborhood (perhaps on account ofbeing more picturesque than fertile) was very sparsely inhabited. Atall events, with my knapsack for a pillow, and my hound as a sentry, abivouac in the open air was just the thing which would have amused me.I sauntered on, therefore, quite at ease--Ponto taking charge of mygun--until at length, just as I had begun to consider whether thenumerous little glades that led hither and thither, were intended tobe paths at all, I was conducted by one of them into an unquestionablecarriage track. There could be no mistaking it. The traces of lightwheels were evident; and although the tall shrubberies and overgrownundergrowth met overhead, there was no obstruction whatever below, evento the passage of a Virginian mountain wagon--the most aspiring vehicle,I take it, of its kind. The road, however, except in being open throughthe wood--if wood be not too weighty a name for such an assemblage oflight trees--and except in the particulars of evident wheel-tracks--boreno resemblance to any road I had before seen. The tracks of which Ispeak were but faintly perceptible--having been impressed upon the firm,yet pleasantly moist surface of--what looked more like green Genoesevelvet than any thing else. It was grass, clearly--but grass such as weseldom see out of England--so short, so thick, so even, and so vivid incolor. Not a single impediment lay in the wheel-route--not even a chipor dead twig. The stones that once obstructed the way had been carefullyplaced--not thrown-along the sides of the lane, so as to define itsboundaries at bottom with a kind of half-precise, half-negligent, andwholly picturesque definition. Clumps of wild flowers grew everywhere,luxuriantly, in the interspaces.
What to make of all this, of course I knew not. Here was artundoubtedly--that did not surprise me--all roads, in the ordinary sense,are works of art; nor can I say that there was much to wonder at in themere excess of art manifested; all that seemed to have been done, mighthave been done here--with such natural ”capabilities” (as they haveit in the books on Landscape Gardening)--with very little labor andexpense. No; it was not the amount but the character of the art whichcaused me to take a seat on one of the blossomy stones and gaze up anddown this fairy-like avenue for half an hour or more in bewilderedadmiration. One thing became more and more evident the longer Igazed: an artist, and one with a most scrupulous eye for form, hadsuperintended all these arrangements. The greatest care had been takento preserve a due medium between the neat and graceful on the one hand,and the pittoresque, in the true sense of the Italian term, on theother. There were few straight, and no long uninterrupted lines. Thesame effect of curvature or of color appeared twice, usually, but notoftener, at any one point of view. Everywhere was variety in uniformity.It was a piece of ”composition,” in which the most fastidiously criticaltaste could scarcely have suggested an emendation.
I had turned to the right as I entered this road, and now, arising, Icontinued in the same direction. The path was so serpentine, that atno moment could I trace its course for more than two or three paces inadvance. Its character did not undergo any material change.
Presently the murmur of water fell gently upon my ear--and in a fewmoments afterward, as I turned with the road somewhat more abruptly thanhitherto, I became aware that a building of some kind lay at the footof a gentle declivity just before me. I could see nothing distinctly onaccount of the mist which occupied all the little valley below. A gentlebreeze, however, now arose, as the sun was about descending; and whileI remained standing on the brow of the slope, the fog gradually becamedissipated into wreaths, and so floated over the scene.
As it came fully into view--thus gradually as I describe it--piece bypiece, here a tree, there a glimpse of water, and here again the summitof a chimney, I could scarcely help fancying that the whole was one ofthe ingenious illusions sometimes exhibited under the name of ”vanishingpictures.”
By the time, however, that the fog had thoroughly disappeared, the sunhad made its way down behind the gentle hills, and thence, as if witha slight chassez to the south, had come again fully into sight, glaringwith a purplish lustre through a chasm that entered the valley from thewest. Suddenly, therefore--and as if by the hand of magic--this wholevalley and every thing in it became brilliantly visible.
The first coup d'oeil, as the sun slid into the position described,impressed me very much as I have been impressed, when a boy, bythe concluding scene of some well-arranged theatrical spectacle ormelodrama. Not even the monstrosity of color was wanting; for thesunlight came out through the chasm, tinted all orange and purple; whilethe vivid green of the grass in the valley was reflected more or lessupon all objects from the curtain of vapor that still hung overhead,as if loth to take its total departure from a scene so enchantinglybeautiful.
The little vale into which I thus peered down from under the fog canopycould not have been more than four hundred yards long; while in breadthit varied from fifty to one hundred and fifty or perhaps two hundred.It was most narrow at its northern extremity, opening out as it tendedsouthwardly, but with no very precise regularity. The widest portionwas within eighty yards of the southern extreme. The slopes whichencompassed the vale could not fairly be called hills, unless at theirnorthern face. Here a precipitous ledge of granite arose to a height ofsome ninety feet; and, as I have mentioned, the valley at this point wasnot more than fifty feet wide; but as the visiter proceeded southwardlyfrom the cliff, he found on his right hand and on his left, declivitiesat once less high, less precipitous, and less rocky. All, in a word,sloped and softened to the south; and yet the whole vale was engirdledby eminences, more or less high, except at two points. One of these Ihave already spoken of. It lay considerably to the north of west, andwas where the setting sun made its way, as I have before described, intothe amphitheatre, through a cleanly cut natural cleft in the graniteembankment; this fissure might have been ten yards wide at its widestpoint, so far as the eye could trace it. It seemed to lead up, up like anatural causeway, into the recesses of unexplored mountains and forests.The other opening was directly at the southern end of the vale. Here,generally, the slopes were nothing more than gentle inclinations,extending from east to west about one hundred and fifty yards. In themiddle of this extent was a depression, level with the ordinary floor ofthe valley. As regards vegetation, as well as in respect to every thingelse, the scene softened and sloped to the south. To the north--on thecraggy precipice--a few paces from the verge--up sprang the magnificenttrunks of numerous hickories, black walnuts, and chestnuts, interspersedwith occasional oak, and the strong lateral branches thrown out by thewalnuts especially, spread far over the edge of the cliff. Proceedingsouthwardly, the explorer saw, at first, the same class of trees,but less and less lofty and Salvatorish in character; then he saw thegentler elm, succeeded by the sassafras and locust--these again by thesofter linden, red-bud, catalpa, and maple--these yet again by stillmore graceful and more modest varieties. The whole face of the southerndeclivity was covered with wild shrubbery alone--an occasionalsilver willow or white poplar excepted. In the bottom of the valleyitself--(for it must be borne in mind that the vegetation hithertomentioned grew only on the cliffs or hillsides)--were to be seen threeinsulated trees. One was an elm of fine size and exquisite form: itstood guard over the southern gate of the vale. Another was a hickory,much larger than the elm, and altogether a much finer tree, althoughboth were exceedingly beautiful: it seemed to have taken charge of thenorthwestern entrance, springing from a group of rocks in the very jawsof the ravine, and throwing its graceful body, at an angle of nearlyforty-five degrees, far out into the sunshine of the amphitheatre. Aboutthirty yards east of this tree stood, however, the pride of the valley,and beyond all question the most magnificent tree I have ever seen,unless, perhaps, among the cypresses of the Itchiatuckanee. It was atriple-stemmed tulip-tree--the Liriodendron Tulipiferum--one of thenatural order of magnolias. Its three trunks separated from the parentat about three feet from the soil, and diverging very slightly andgradually, were not more than four feet apart at the point where thelargest stem shot out into foliage: this was at an elevation of abouteighty feet. The whole height of the principal division was one hundredand twenty feet. Nothing can surpass in beauty the form, or the glossy,vivid green of the leaves of the tulip-tree. In the present instancethey were fully eight inches wide; but their glory was altogethereclipsed by the gorgeous splendor of the profuse blossoms. Conceive,closely congregated, a million of the largest and most resplendenttulips! Only thus can the reader get any idea of the picture I wouldconvey. And then the stately grace of the clean, delicately-granulatedcolumnar stems, the largest four feet in diameter, at twenty from theground. The innumerable blossoms, mingling with those of other treesscarcely less beautiful, although infinitely less majestic, filled thevalley with more than Arabian perfumes.
The general floor of the amphitheatre was grass of the same character asthat I had found in the road; if anything, more deliciously soft, thick,velvety, and miraculously green. It was hard to conceive how all thisbeauty had been attained.
I have spoken of two openings into the vale. From the one to thenorthwest issued a rivulet, which came, gently murmuring and slightlyfoaming, down the ravine, until it dashed against the group of rocks outof which sprang the insulated hickory. Here, after encircling the tree,it passed on a little to the north of east, leaving the tulip tree sometwenty feet to the south, and making no decided alteration in its courseuntil it came near the midway between the eastern and western boundariesof the valley. At this point, after a series of sweeps, it turned off atright angles and pursued a generally southern direction meandering as itwent--until it became lost in a small lake of irregular figure (althoughroughly oval), that lay gleaming near the lower extremity of the vale.This lakelet was, perhaps, a hundred yards in diameter at its widestpart. No crystal could be clearer than its waters. Its bottom, whichcould be distinctly seen, consisted altogether, of pebbles brilliantlywhite. Its banks, of the emerald grass already described, rounded,rather than sloped, off into the clear heaven below; and so clear wasthis heaven, so perfectly, at times, did it reflect all objects aboveit, that where the true bank ended and where the mimic one commenced,it was a point of no little difficulty to determine. The trout, andsome other varieties of fish, with which this pond seemed to be almostinconveniently crowded, had all the appearance of veritable flying-fish.It was almost impossible to believe that they were not absolutelysuspended in the air. A light birch canoe that lay placidly on thewater, was reflected in its minutest fibres with a fidelity unsurpassedby the most exquisitely polished mirror. A small island, fairly laughingwith flowers in full bloom, and affording little more space than justenough for a picturesque little building, seemingly a fowl-house--arosefrom the lake not far from its northern shore--to which it was connectedby means of an inconceivably light--looking and yet very primitivebridge. It was formed of a single, broad and thick plank of the tulipwood. This was forty feet long, and spanned the interval between shoreand shore with a slight but very perceptible arch, preventing alloscillation. From the southern extreme of the lake issued a continuationof the rivulet, which, after meandering for, perhaps, thirty yards,finally passed through the ”depression” (already described) in themiddle of the southern declivity, and tumbling down a sheer precipice ofa hundred feet, made its devious and unnoticed way to the Hudson.
The lake was deep--at some points thirty feet--but the rivulet seldomexceeded three, while its greatest width was about eight. Its bottom andbanks were as those of the pond--if a defect could have been attributed,in point of picturesqueness, it was that of excessive neatness.
The expanse of the green turf was relieved, here and there, by anoccasional showy shrub, such as the hydrangea, or the common snowball,or the aromatic seringa; or, more frequently, by a clump of geraniumsblossoming gorgeously in great varieties. These latter grew in potswhich were carefully buried in the soil, so as to give the plants theappearance of being indigenous. Besides all this, the lawn's velvet wasexquisitely spotted with sheep--a considerable flock of which roamedabout the vale, in company with three tamed deer, and a vast number ofbrilliantly-plumed ducks. A very large mastiff seemed to be in vigilantattendance upon these animals, each and all.
Along the eastern and western cliffs--where, toward the upper portion ofthe amphitheatre, the boundaries were more or less precipitous--grew ivyin great profusion--so that only here and there could even a glimpse ofthe naked rock be obtained. The northern precipice, in like manner,was almost entirely clothed by grape-vines of rare luxuriance; somespringing from the soil at the base of the cliff, and others from ledgeson its face.
The slight elevation which formed the lower boundary of this littledomain, was crowned by a neat stone wall, of sufficient height toprevent the escape of the deer. Nothing of the fence kind was observableelsewhere; for nowhere else was an artificial enclosure needed:--anystray sheep, for example, which should attempt to make its way out ofthe vale by means of the ravine, would find its progress arrested,after a few yards' advance, by the precipitous ledge of rock over whichtumbled the cascade that had arrested my attention as I first drew nearthe domain. In short, the only ingress or egress was through a gateoccupying a rocky pass in the road, a few paces below the point at whichI stopped to reconnoitre the scene.
I have described the brook as meandering very irregularly through thewhole of its course. Its two general directions, as I have said, werefirst from west to east, and then from north to south. At the turn, thestream, sweeping backward, made an almost circular loop, so as to form apeninsula which was very nearly an island, and which included about thesixteenth of an acre. On this peninsula stood a dwelling-house--and whenI say that this house, like the infernal terrace seen by Vathek, ”etaitd'une architecture inconnue dans les annales de la terre,” I mean,merely, that its tout ensemble struck me with the keenest sense ofcombined novelty and propriety--in a word, of poetry--(for, than in thewords just employed, I could scarcely give, of poetry in the abstract,a more rigorous definition)--and I do not mean that merely outre wasperceptible in any respect.
In fact nothing could well be more simple--more utterly unpretendingthan this cottage. Its marvellous effect lay altogether in its artisticarrangement as a picture. I could have fancied, while I looked at it,that some eminent landscape-painter had built it with his brush.
The point of view from which I first saw the valley, was not altogether,although it was nearly, the best point from which to survey the house.I will therefore describe it as I afterwards saw it--from a position onthe stone wall at the southern extreme of the amphitheatre.
The main building was about twenty-four feet long and sixteenbroad--certainly not more. Its total height, from the ground to the apexof the roof, could not have exceeded eighteen feet. To the west endof this structure was attached one about a third smaller in all itsproportions:--the line of its front standing back about two yards fromthat of the larger house, and the line of its roof, of course, beingconsiderably depressed below that of the roof adjoining. At right anglesto these buildings, and from the rear of the main one--not exactly inthe middle--extended a third compartment, very small--being, in general,one-third less than the western wing. The roofs of the two larger werevery steep--sweeping down from the ridge-beam with a long concave curve,and extending at least four feet beyond the walls in front, so as toform the roofs of two piazzas. These latter roofs, of course, neededno support; but as they had the air of needing it, slight and perfectlyplain pillars were inserted at the corners alone. The roof of thenorthern wing was merely an extension of a portion of the main roof.Between the chief building and western wing arose a very tall and ratherslender square chimney of hard Dutch bricks, alternately black andred:--a slight cornice of projecting bricks at the top. Over the gablesthe roofs also projected very much:--in the main building about fourfeet to the east and two to the west. The principal door was not exactlyin the main division, being a little to the east--while the two windowswere to the west. These latter did not extend to the floor, but weremuch longer and narrower than usual--they had single shutters likedoors--the panes were of lozenge form, but quite large. The door itselfhad its upper half of glass, also in lozenge panes--a movable shuttersecured it at night. The door to the west wing was in its gable, andquite simple--a single window looked out to the south. There was noexternal door to the north wing, and it also had only one window to theeast.
The blank wall of the eastern gable was relieved by stairs (with abalustrade) running diagonally across it--the ascent being from thesouth. Under cover of the widely projecting eave these steps gave accessto a door leading to the garret, or rather loft--for it was lighted onlyby a single window to the north, and seemed to have been intended as astore-room.
The piazzas of the main building and western wing had no floors, as isusual; but at the doors and at each window, large, flat irregular slabsof granite lay imbedded in the delicious turf, affording comfortablefooting in all weather. Excellent paths of the same material--not nicelyadapted, but with the velvety sod filling frequent intervals between thestones, led hither and thither from the house, to a crystal spring aboutfive paces off, to the road, or to one or two out-houses that lay tothe north, beyond the brook, and were thoroughly concealed by a fewlocusts and catalpas.
Not more than six steps from the main door of the cottage stood thedead trunk of a fantastic pear-tree, so clothed from head to foot inthe gorgeous bignonia blossoms that one required no little scrutiny todetermine what manner of sweet thing it could be. From various arms ofthis tree hung cages of different kinds. In one, a large wicker cylinderwith a ring at top, revelled a mocking bird; in another an oriole; in athird the impudent bobolink--while three or four more delicate prisonswere loudly vocal with canaries.
The pillars of the piazza were enwreathed in jasmine and sweethoneysuckle; while from the angle formed by the main structure andits west wing, in front, sprang a grape-vine of unexampled luxuriance.Scorning all restraint, it had clambered first to the lower roof--thento the higher; and along the ridge of this latter it continued to writheon, throwing out tendrils to the right and left, until at length itfairly attained the east gable, and fell trailing over the stairs.
The whole house, with its wings, was constructed of the old-fashionedDutch shingles--broad, and with unrounded corners. It is a peculiarityof this material to give houses built of it the appearance of beingwider at bottom than at top--after the manner of Egyptian architecture;and in the present instance, this exceedingly picturesque effect wasaided by numerous pots of gorgeous flowers that almost encompassed thebase of the buildings.
The shingles were painted a dull gray; and the happiness with which thisneutral tint melted into the vivid green of the tulip tree leaves thatpartially overshadowed the cottage, can readily be conceived by anartist.
From the position near the stone wall, as described, the buildingswere seen at great advantage--for the southeastern angle was thrownforward--so that the eye took in at once the whole of the two fronts,with the picturesque eastern gable, and at the same time obtained just asufficient glimpse of the northern wing, with parts of a pretty roofto the spring-house, and nearly half of a light bridge that spanned thebrook in the near vicinity of the main buildings.
I did not remain very long on the brow of the hill, although long enoughto make a thorough survey of the scene at my feet. It was clear thatI had wandered from the road to the village, and I had thus goodtraveller's excuse to open the gate before me, and inquire my way, atall events; so, without more ado, I proceeded.
The road, after passing the gate, seemed to lie upon a natural ledge,sloping gradually down along the face of the north-eastern cliffs. Itled me on to the foot of the northern precipice, and thence over thebridge, round by the eastern gable to the front door. In this progress,I took notice that no sight of the out-houses could be obtained.
As I turned the corner of the gable, the mastiff bounded towards me instern silence, but with the eye and the whole air of a tiger. I held himout my hand, however, in token of amity--and I never yet knew the dogwho was proof against such an appeal to his courtesy. He not onlyshut his mouth and wagged his tail, but absolutely offered me hispaw-afterward extending his civilities to Ponto.
As no bell was discernible, I rapped with my stick against thedoor, which stood half open. Instantly a figure advanced to thethreshold--that of a young woman about twenty-eight years ofage--slender, or rather slight, and somewhat above the medium height.As she approached, with a certain modest decision of step altogetherindescribable. I said to myself, ”Surely here I have found theperfection of natural, in contradistinction from artificial grace.” Thesecond impression which she made on me, but by far the more vivid ofthe two, was that of enthusiasm. So intense an expression of romance,perhaps I should call it, or of unworldliness, as that which gleamedfrom her deep-set eyes, had never so sunk into my heart of heartsbefore. I know not how it is, but this peculiar expression of the eye,wreathing itself occasionally into the lips, is the most powerful,if not absolutely the sole spell, which rivets my interest in woman.”Romance, provided my readers fully comprehended what I would here implyby the word--”romance” and ”womanliness” seem to me convertible terms:and, after all, what man truly loves in woman, is simply her womanhood.The eyes of Annie (I heard some one from the interior call her ”Annie,darling!”) were ”spiritual grey;” her hair, a light chestnut: this isall I had time to observe of her.
At her most courteous of invitations, I entered--passing first into atolerably wide vestibule. Having come mainly to observe, I took noticethat to my right as I stepped in, was a window, such as those in frontof the house; to the left, a door leading into the principal room;while, opposite me, an open door enabled me to see a small apartment,just the size of the vestibule, arranged as a study, and having a largebow window looking out to the north.
Passing into the parlor, I found myself with Mr. Landor--for this,I afterwards found, was his name. He was civil, even cordial in hismanner, but just then, I was more intent on observing the arrangementsof the dwelling which had so much interested me, than the personalappearance of the tenant.
The north wing, I now saw, was a bed-chamber, its door opened into theparlor. West of this door was a single window, looking toward the brook.At the west end of the parlor, were a fireplace, and a door leading intothe west wing--probably a kitchen.
Nothing could be more rigorously simple than the furniture of theparlor. On the floor was an ingrain carpet, of excellent texture--awhite ground, spotted with small circular green figures. At the windowswere curtains of snowy white jaconet muslin: they were tolerably full,and hung decisively, perhaps rather formally in sharp, parallel plaitsto the floor--just to the floor. The walls were prepared with a Frenchpaper of great delicacy, a silver ground, with a faint green cordrunning zig-zag throughout. Its expanse was relieved merely by threeof Julien's exquisite lithographs a trois crayons, fastened to the wallwithout frames. One of these drawings was a scene of Oriental luxury, orrather voluptuousness; another was a ”carnival piece,” spiritedbeyond compare; the third was a Greek female head--a face so divinelybeautiful, and yet of an expression so provokingly indeterminate, neverbefore arrested my attention.
The more substantial furniture consisted of a round table, a few chairs(including a large rocking-chair), and a sofa, or rather ”settee;” itsmaterial was plain maple painted a creamy white, slightly interstripedwith green; the seat of cane. The chairs and table were ”to match,” butthe forms of all had evidently been designed by the same brain whichplanned ”the grounds;” it is impossible to conceive anything moregraceful.
On the table were a few books, a large, square, crystal bottle of somenovel perfume, a plain ground-glass astral (not solar) lamp with anItalian shade, and a large vase of resplendently-blooming flowers.Flowers, indeed, of gorgeous colours and delicate odour formed the solemere decoration of the apartment. The fire-place was nearly filled witha vase of brilliant geranium. On a triangular shelf in each angle of theroom stood also a similar vase, varied only as to its lovely contents.One or two smaller bouquets adorned the mantel, and late violetsclustered about the open windows.
It is not the purpose of this work to do more than give in detail, apicture of Mr. Landor's residence--as I found it. How he made it what itwas--and why--with some particulars of Mr. Landor himself--may, possiblyform the subject of another article.