SOUTHERN TRIPS, 1852-1854
From the letters and books relating to his Southern journeys, there is
less of scenery or of rural art. He was concerned with giving a true
picture of the economic and social conditions in the South, especially
as affected by slavery, and his observations were directed mainly to
men and their affairs rather than to their landscape surroundings.
There are, however, numerous passages of great interest in this regard,
especially on the Texas journey of 1853-4. Several are here given.
One is written from San Antonio, Texas, March 12, 1854, to a friend.
Meantime we are traveling about, without definite aim, in an original
but, on the whole, very pleasant fashion. The spring here is very
beautiful, the prairies are not mere seas of coarse grass, but one of
varied surface, with thick wooded borders and many trees and shrubs,
standing singly and in small islands. Having been generally burnt
over or the rank grass fed closely down, they have very frequently
a fine close lawn-like turf, making an extremely rich landscape. At
this season, moreover, there are a very great variety of pretty,
small, modest flowers, such as I send you, growing often very thickly
in the grass. There is an evergreen shrub rare, and new to me, which
is the finest shrub I have ever seen.[18] Its leaves are Acacia-like
but evergreen, bright and glossy like Laurel, and it bears a cluster
like those of the Horsechestnut, of deep blue and lilac bloom, with a
perfume like that of grapes.
THE WESTERN PRAIRIES
The impression as we emerged, strengthened by a warm, calm atmosphere,
was very charming. The live-oaks, standing alone or in picturesque
groups near and far upon the clean sward, which rolled in long waves
that took, on their various slopes, bright light or half shadows from
the afternoon sun, contributed mainly to an effect which was very
new and striking, though still natural, like a happy new melody.
We stopped, and, from the trunk of a superb old tree, preserved a
sketched outline of its low gnarled limbs, and of the scene beyond
them.
Had we known that this was the first one of a thousand similar scenes,
that were now to charm us day after day, we should have, perhaps,
spared ourselves the pains. We were, in fact just entering a vast
region of which live-oak prairies are the characteristic. It extends
throughout the greater part of Western Texas, as far as the small
streams near San Antonio, beyond which the dwarf mesquit and its
congeners are found. The live-oak is almost the only tree away from
the river bottoms, and everywhere gives the marked features to the
landscape.
The live-oaks are often short, and even stunted in growth, lacking the
rich vigor and full foliage of those further east. Occasionally, a
tree is met with, which has escaped its share of injury from prairie
burnings and northers, and has grown into a symmetrical and glorious
beauty. But such are comparatively rare. Most of them are meagerly
furnished with leaves, and as the leaf, in shape, size, and hue, has
a general similarity to that of the olive, the distant effect is
strikingly similar. As far West as beyond the Guadalupe, they are
thickly hung with the gray Spanish moss, whose weird color, and slow,
pendulous motions, harmonize peculiarly with the tone of the tree
itself, especially where, upon the round, rocky, mountain ledges, its
distorted roots cling, disputing a scant nourishment with the stunted
grass.
* * * * *
SAN ANTONIO
We have no city, except, perhaps, New Orleans, that can vie, in point
of the picturesque interest that attaches to odd and antiquated
foreignness, with San Antonio. Its jumble of races, costumes,
languages and buildings; its religious ruins, holding to an antiquity,
for us, indistinct enough to breed an unaccustomed solemnity; its
remote, isolated, outposted situation, and the vague conviction
that it is the first of a new class of conquered cities into whose
decaying streets our rattling life is to be infused, combine with the
heroic touches in its history to enliven and satisfy your traveller’s
curiosity.
... [The streets] are laid out with tolerable regularity, parallel
with the sides of the main plaza, and are pretty distinctly shared
among the nations that use them.
* * * * *
In the outskirts of the town are many good residences, recently
erected by Americans. They are mostly of the creamy limestone, which
is found in abundance near by. It is of a very agreeable shade,
readily sawed and cut, sufficiently durable, and can be procured at
a moderate cost. When the grounds around them shall have been put in
correspondence with the style of these houses, they will make enviable
homes.
* * * * *
THE SAN ANTONIO SPRING
There are, besides the missions, several pleasant points for
excursions in the neighborhood, particularly those to the San
Antonio and San Pedro Springs. The latter is a wooded spot of great
beauty, but a mile or two from the town, and boasts a restaurant and
beer-garden beyond its natural attractions. The San Antonio Spring may
be classed as of the first water among the gems of the natural world.
The whole river gushes up in one sparkling burst from the earth.
It has all the beautiful accompaniments of a smaller spring, moss,
pebbles, seclusion, sparkling sunbeams and dense overhanging luxuriant
foliage. The effect is overpowering. It is beyond your possible
conceptions of a spring.
* * * * *
SEGUIN
About a mile from the river we entered Seguin. It is the prettiest
town in Texas; at least of those we saw. It stands on elevated ground,
in a grove of shaggy live-oaks, which have been left untouched, in
their natural number and position, the streets straying through them
in convenient directions, not always at right angles.
The following selections are from the _Back Country_ book:
THE LANDSCAPE--ROSE HEDGES
For some miles about St. Francisville the landscape has an open,
suburban character, with residences indicative of rapidly accumulating
wealth, and advancement in luxury among the proprietors. For twenty
miles to the north of the town, there is on both sides a succession
of large sugar and cotton plantations. Much land still remains
uncultivated, however. The roadside fences are generally hedges of
roses--Cherokee and sweetbrier. These are planted first by the side
of a common rail fence, which, while they are young, supports them in
the manner of a trellis; as they grow older they fall each way, and
mat together, finally forming a confused, sprawling, slovenly thicket,
often ten feet in breadth and four to six feet high. Trumpet creepers,
grape-vines, green-briers, and in very rich soil, cane, grow up
through the mat of roses, and add to its strength. It is not as pretty
as a trimmer hedge, yet very agreeable, and the road being sometimes
narrow, deep, and lane like, delightful memories of England were often
brought to mind.
* * * * *
THE BLUFF
... The grand feature of Natchez is the bluff, terminating in an
abrupt precipice over the river, with the public garden upon it. Of
this I never had heard, and when, after seeing my horse dried off and
eating his oats with great satisfaction,--the first time he has ever
tasted oats, I suppose,--I strolled off to see the town, I came upon
it by surprise. I entered a gate and walked up a slope, supposing that
I was approaching the ridge or summit of a hill, and expecting to see
beyond it a corresponding slope and the town again, continuing in
terraced streets to the river. I found myself, almost at the moment I
discovered that it was not so, on the very edge of a stupendous cliff,
and before me an indescribably vast expanse of forest, extending on
every hand to a hazy horizon, in which, directly in front of me, swung
the round, red, setting sun.
Through the otherwise unbroken forest, the Mississippi had opened a
passage for itself, forming a perfect arc, the hither shore of the
middle of the curve being hidden under the crest of the cliff, and
the two ends lost in the vast obscurity of the Great West. Overlooked
from such an eminence, the size of the Mississippi can be realized,--a
thing difficult under ordinary circumstances; but though the fret of
a swelling torrent is not wanting, it is perceptible only as the most
delicate chasing upon the broad, gleaming expanse of polished steel,
which at once shamed all my previous conceptions of the appearance
of the greatest of rivers. Coming closer to the edge and looking
downward, you see the lower town, its roofs with water flowing all
around them, and its pigmy people wading, and laboring to carry upward
their goods and furniture, in danger from a rising movement of the
great water. Poor people, emigrants and niggers only.
I lay down, and would have reposed my mind in the infinite vision
westward, but was presently disturbed by a hog which came grunting
near me, rooting in the poor turf of this wonderful garden. I rose and
walked its length. Little more has been done than to inclose a space
along the edge, which would have been dangerous to build upon, to cut
out some curving alleys now recaptured by the grass and weeds, and to
plant a few succulent trees. A road to the lower town, cutting through
it, is crossed by slight wooden foot-bridges, and there are some rough
plank benches--adorned with stenciled “medical” advertisements. Some
shrubs are planted on the crumbling face of the cliff, so near the top
that the swine can obtain access to them. A man, bearded and smoking,
and a woman with him, sitting at the extreme end, were the only
visitors except myself and the swine.
FOOTNOTES:
[18] This plant has been identified by the Botanist of the U. S.
Bureau of Plant Industries as that commonly called Frijolito or
Frijolillo (_Sophora secundiflora_).