Vidal Gore — Eighteen Seventy [2165]

We were shown to comfortable rooms, each with a splendid vista through trees of the bright river far below, not to mention the railroad. The sound of the trains carries eerily well, and all the magnates who have built houses along this high cliff are forced to listen to the trains just the way the humble folk who live beneath the Sixth Avenue Elevated Railway are deafened at regular intervals all through the day. Unfortunately, Commodore Vanderbilt’s trains continue through the night as well as the day and, perversely (at his orders?), they blow their whistles just as they pass beneath Ferncliff. But saving the trains, this is an idyllic house and setting. The guests are somewhat less idyllic and our hostess least of all. (I should have a padlock made for this book, but somehow I cannot see Mrs. Astor turning the pages, looking for references to herself). Yet she does her best—such as it is—to be agreeable, if not entertaining. — Vidal Gore, Eighteen Seventy, 2165

Note

The imagery evokes a rich sensory experience of the setting while contrasting the idyllic facade with the intrusion of the trains, symbolizing the clash between nature and industrial progress.