See America First Part 15

"Late to bed and early to rise; makes tired travelers rub sore eyes," said George, as we rapped on his door at what he considered an unearthly hour for rising. On asking him "why the trouble with his eyes" he exclaimed, "too much sea in them." We told him that to sleep away the wondrous beauty of the dawn instead of imbibing the fragrance and freshness of the morning hours would be a sin of omission that would require yards of sack-cloth and barrels of ashes for forgiveness. He arose in due time (also dew-time), though he at first murmured and grumbled like a soldier on hearing reveille.

Out in the east a faint glimmer was seen to delicately edge the pearl gray of the sky along the horizon. The sheen spread swiftly toward the zenith; pale bars of light shot up like advance guards to herald the coming splendor. Along the far blue rim of the ocean a narrow saffron band was seen, which soon became a broader belt, blazing like molten gold. The western horizon flushed like a rose-colored sea in which floated clouds of crimson. How grand this morning pageant and how quickly the king of day was ushered in! The chafing ocean wore on its bosom a tender turquoise bloom decked with millions of flas.h.i.+ng jewels. Later it resembled a sapphire sky coruscating with tremulous stars. As we felt the soft south breeze, which rustled the leaves of the trees, in which birds were just beginning to stir, we seemed to catch the delicious melody of Long fellow's "Daybreak," which is like the fragrance of roses in a dreamy south wind.

A wind came up out of the sea, And said, "O mists, make room for me."

It hailed the s.h.i.+ps and cried, "Sail on, Ye mariners, the night is gone."

And hurried landward far away.

Crying, "Awake, it is the day."

It said unto the forest, "Shout!

Hang all your leafy banners out."

It touched the wood-bird's folded wing, And said, "O Bird, awake and sing."

And o'er the farms, "O Chanticleer, Your clarion blow, the day is near."

It whispered to the fields of corn, "Bow down and hail the coming morn."

It shouted through the belfry tower, "Awake, O bell! proclaim the hour."

It crossed the churchyard with a sigh, And said, "not yet! in quiet lie."

Words fail to describe the exhilarating effect of the morning air, the marvelous beauty of the vast expanse of sea and sky seen through the luminous trembling haze, or the vines, flowers and shrubs that grow with wonderful luxuriance, which in many places presented an almost tropical aspect. If we add to this the most startling contrasts and picturesque details with a delightful breeze blowing over all you have still but a faint idea of the picture.

How bright the morning was! "The leaves were newly washed, every flower refreshed, their colors. flas.h.i.+ng with brighter tints like new dyes just put on." How pure the air was made! There was no contamination by smoke or dust and the very breeze came like a tonic, and we breathed deeply and thanked the Creator for each potent draught. There was an exuberance of joy in the dance of the waves as they came rolling in to sh.o.r.e, and the swaying branches of the trees were only wordless rhythmical songs that the birds were singing among their branches.

On some bland morning like this when you view the breezy, sparkling sea, whereon the haze lies like the soft bloom on grapes, everything will appear dreamy and beautiful, while recollections of Nice, Monaco and Monte Carlo with their majestic sh.o.r.e lines rising from a sea of sapphire, are recalled. Those dazzling white buildings rising as they seem to do from the sea, steeped in that effulgent golden haze, seem almost unearthly in their splendor. One wonders if he has not gotten to heaven before his time, for here are terraced garden walls where fall cascades of exquisite blossoms, vast sheets of delicate pink geraniums, purple of clematis, l.u.s.trous yellow of mimosas, scarlet anemones and variegated tulips that hang poised before you like glorious curtains of richly wrought mosaic.

The broad fronds of the palms catch the gold of the morning sunbeams. The air is laden with the fragrance of myriads of flowers and has the softness of sea-born breezes. Rose wreathed villas with their pure white or cream tinted walls; shutters of turquoise blue and red tile roofs only add to the glory of the tropical luxuriance and charming views of mountain and sea.

And such a sea! How futile are words to describe. Its blue has been characterized as a "vast expanse of sapphire sparkling with diamonds." It does not owe its marvelous effects to reflections from the sky, for no sky ever had such an intense blue, filled with lambent light. Then its greens, blues, and purples, seen from the lovely mountain roads, especially from the road leading from Monte Carlo, seem more like leaping prismatic flame than a vast expanse of water. Then the old gold, red, and orange colored sails of the boats, gliding like magic through the water, add their picturesque touches to the scene. The sound of boatmen calling to one another with their soft musical voices is like the trilling of the nightingale from some leafy bower.

Having felt the charm of those magical scenes you will enjoy the ocean at Newport none the less.

Always amid Nature's most powerful manifestations one observes the frailest and most delicate types of creation. Here along the beach were sh.e.l.ls, exquisitely tinted like a sunset sky, cast on sh.o.r.e by the cruel waves. Tender mosses and fragile sea-weed lay upon the sand revealing the infinite tenderness of these frail children of the boundless deep. Looking upon the seething, surging ma.s.s of water that rolled on the troubled sea only last night, who would have thought it the home of such delicate beauty? "Truly," we said, as we gazed in admiration and wonder at the fair scene before us, "the sea as well as the heavens declares the glory of G.o.d and showeth His handiwork." But alas!

"how p.r.o.ne we are to forget the Power that calms the fiercest storms and so quickly makes all nature glow with beauty again."

One is well repaid for the time he spends along the charming Cliff Walk, but s.p.a.ce forbids us to attempt to describe it. But then, what is the use?

We were particularly impressed with the beauty of the coast near Newport. At one place lovely velvety meadows run down near the sea and form a remarkable contrast to most ocean views. Here we saw a group of dark gray rocks which formed a sort of a promontory that jutted out into the ocean. So fantastic did these rocks appear from a distance that we readily peopled them with sirens. Standing on the sh.o.r.e opposite them, we watched the breakers dash themselves to pieces at their feet and the gulls, those fairy squadrons of air craft, whirling above them. The bell on the buoy gave forth its warning sound, but the siren voices kept calling from rocks with a melody that was irresistible, and heeding not the threnody of the bell, we were soon looking down in triumph at the broken array of restless waters from the hollow crest of a great boulder.

>From this point the sea appears as a vast poem, "one of those charming idyls in which no element of beauty or power is lacking." From this rough pulpit of masonry we gazed at the booming breakers rolling in with their crests of gleaming silver, that were shattered to fragments immediately below us.

Their long sprays of phosph.o.r.escent blossoms vanished like stars in the golden light of dawn. The sea was now bathed in a flood of mellow light and its gradations of color revealed palest amethyst along the horizon, while nearer it glowed with brightest sapphire. In such a place and at such a time as this you take no note of time. "Your soul is flooded with a sense of such celestial beauty as you ne'er dreamed of before, and a nameless inexpressible music enthralls you."

Here we saw forty destroyers in the harbor and two others entering it. As we gazed at these groups of vessels lying at anchor, we wondered whether America would always need these grim objects of destruction and death to guard her liberty. Looking at these vessels, what memories were revived! Our hearts sickened at the thought of those thirteen awful days spent in crossing the ocean, when we were packed like livestock in those horrible quarters. Ah, G.o.d! the memory of it yet brings a sickening sensation. Then, too, that tempestuous wintry sea that grew black and white as death with horrible billows, while the storm raged, cruel, inexorable, unmerciful, bitter. But why let one's thoughts dwell upon such terrible scenes while standing on the fair sh.o.r.es of our beloved homeland, over which waves the glorious flag, now doubly dear to us.

As we watched the coming and going of the vessels we thought of the many experiences that must have been theirs! For what ports are those vessels bound? From what distant climes have these just returned? What perils they may have encountered! What refres.h.i.+ng memories of the magic beauty of southern seas!

Our reverie was broken by the plaintive cries of the sea birds circling around us. How the hours have slipped by unnoticed since we were out here! Slowly we retraced our steps, pausing now and then to gaze at the fis.h.i.+ng boats putting out to sea, or to look at the hosts of gulls alighting and departing from the rocks, as restless as the ocean waves. Again we noted the wonderful blue bloom, like a tropical sea, on which a million points of light were glinting; now we found a delicate sh.e.l.l and marvelled at its exquisite colors; we turned again to look at the sea-birds to learn what the unusually loud clamor was about.

At last the sh.o.r.e was gained and we reluctantly turned away from those rocks where Undine dwells in the silvery stream and melodies sweeter than those of the Lorelei still called to us across the waves.

We pa.s.sed the old Jewish cemetery which gave Longfellow his theme, "The Old Jewish Burial Ground at Newport." What exiles, what persecutions have been theirs, yet here we repeat by the sounding sea the sad history of their race:

How strange it seems! These Hebrews in their graves; Close by the street of this fair seaport town, Silent beside the never silent waves, At rest in all this moving up and down!

The trees are white with dust that o'er their sleep Wave their broad curtains in the south wind's breath, While underneath these leafy tents they keep The long, mysterious exodus of Death.

And these sepulchral stones so old and brown, That pave with level flags their burial place, Seem like the tablets of the Law thrown down And broken by Moses at the Mountain's base.

Gone are the living, but the dead remain And not neglected, for a hand unseen, Scattering its bounty, like a summer rain, Still keeps their graves and their memories green.

How came they here? What burst of Christian hate, What persecution, merciless and blind Drove o'er the sea--that desert desolate-- These Ishmaels and Hagars of mankind?

Pride and humiliation hand in hand Walked with them through the world where'er they went; Trampled and beaten were they as the sand, And yet unshaken as the continent.

For in the background figures vague and vast Of patriarchs and prophets rose sublime, And all the great traditions of the Past Then saw reflected in the coming Time.

And then forever with reverted look The mystic volume of the world they read, Spelling it backward, like a Hebrew book, Till life became a Legend of the Dead.

But ah! What once has been shall be no more!

The groaning earth in travail and in pain Brings forth its races, but does not restore, And the dead nations never rise again!

Leaving this quiet abode of the dead we were surprised to find mult.i.tudes of people strolling about the town. Of all that motley throng we met with no one save a solitary fisher out on the rocks, from which such glorious vistas of the sea may be had. Then we recalled how few there were who witnessed the wonderful pageant of the dawn. Surely influences of nature so beautiful and profound should touch our feeble hopes and lowly aspirations with new life, inspiring grander visions.

We should leave the frivolous things of life, like the surf, the offal, washed ash.o.r.e. We should take back for our winter's need bits of brightness gleaned from our summer sojourn by the sea.

As we thought of our coming departure, these questions came to us: Have we treasured up a few of the tints in our lives like the rare colors of the dawn on the boundless sea? Have we filled our earthly horizon with golden thoughts, fair visions of the sea of memory that reach the infinite? Are they transient as the crimson and rose-colored west or shall they flash and gleam silent, yet eternal as the stars above?

How often will the ocean's clean-washed sands, those ever- changing hues and sunsets re-appear when we shall long have been absent from them! How often, too, shall we hear in fancy as we do now in reality the moaning of the storm and the booming breakers along the sh.o.r.e!

The sirens were still calling and their weird enticing melodies yet rippled through our memories. Out over the harbor beyond those enchanted rocks the water was o'erspread with the delicate blue bloom. Later they seemed to withdraw, fading slowly away into blue and mysterious shadows in the deepening twilight. "Far out toward the horizon we watched a vessel fade in the violet dusk; the evening star trembled low on the horizon as if enamored of the waters." Thus Newport pa.s.sed into memory.

RHODE ISLAND

Little Rhode Island! What a surprise it was to find in this, this smallest member of a family group of forty-eight states, so much of the wild and primeval wilderness. Through long stretches of forest bordered road, stony fields and rough pasture land our road led. Great cl.u.s.ters of ferns grew in the swampy meadows, and many brilliant colored swamp flowers were in blossom, giving the otherwise desolate scene a touch of color. Stone fences bordered some of the meadows and now and then a rustic cottage with its brown-stained sides appeared. For a number of miles we pa.s.sed through a country where on both sides of the road grew thickets of oak, yellow and white birch and fragrant pine.

Interspersed among this growth were numberless chestnut, maple and larch trees.

We soon emerged from this desolate region, however, and at a more attractive spot our eyes fell upon a boulder monument erected by the state of Rhode Island in memory and honor of Thomas Wilson Dorr, whom in an earlier time was considered a menace to his country. How long this man was in receiving the true verdict of his country! Pausing to read the latter verdict, so different from the former, we noted these significant words: "Thomas Wilson Dorr, 1805-1854; of distinguished lineage, of brilliant talents, eminent in scholars.h.i.+p, a public spirited citizen, lawyer, educator, statesman, advocator of popular sovereignty, framer of the people's Const.i.tution of 1842, elected Governor under it, adjudged revolutionary in 1842.

Principle acknowledged right in 1912." Then below these words were added: "I stand before you with great confidence in the final verdict of my country. The right of suffrage is the guardian of our liberty."

Here in this charming spot where the beautiful maples stood in groups or grew singly we ate our luncheon beneath these trees whose liberty-loving branches stirred by a pa.s.sing breeze rustled a leafy accompaniment to a nation's paean of praise. His principles were right, but he was in advance of his time. We were glad to know that such a small state could produce so great a man.

Here we were entering the city where Williams with five others landed at the foot of the hill which he chose as the place of his settlement. In grat.i.tude for "G.o.d's merciful providence to him in distress" he called the place Providence. Roger Williams, with his grand idea of religious tolerance, stood far ahead of his time. His aim, like his character, was pure and n.o.ble. He was educated at London, and was a friend of Vane, Cromwell and Milton. While at Plymouth and Salem he spent much time in learning the Indian tongue.

Little did he dream as he slept in their filthy wigwams what a great benefit the learning of their language would be to him later on.