MANDARIN, May 30, 1872.
The thermometer with us, during the third week in May, rose to
ninety-two in the shade; and as we had received an invitation from a
friend to visit St. Augustine, which is the Newport of Florida, we
thought it a good time to go seaward. So on a pleasant morning we
embarked on the handsome boat "Florence," which has taken so many up
the river, and thus secured all the breeze that was to be had.
"The Florence" is used expressly for a river pleasure-boat, plying every
day between Jacksonville and Pilatka. It is long and airy, and nicely
furnished; and one could not imagine a more delightful conveyance. In
hot weather, one could not be more sure of cool breezes than when
sailing up and down perpetually in "The Florence." Our destiny, however,
landed us in the very meridian of the day at Tekoi. Tekoi consists of a
shed and a sand-bank, and a little shanty, where, to those who require,
refreshments are served.
On landing, we found that we must pay for the pleasure and coolness of
coming up river in "The Florence" by waiting two or three mortal hours
till "The Starlight" arrived; for the railroad-car would not start till
the full complement of passengers was secured. We had a good
opportunity then of testing what the heat of a Florida sun might be,
untempered by live-oaks and orange shades, and unalleviated by
ice-water; and the lesson was an impressive one.
The railroad across to St. Augustine is made of wooden rails; and the
cars are drawn by horses.
There was one handsome car like those used on the New-York
horse-railroads: the others were the roughest things imaginable.
Travellers have usually spoken of this road with execration for its
slowness and roughness; but over this, such as it was, all the rank and
fashion of our pleasure-seekers, the last winter, have been pouring in
unbroken daily streams. In the height of the season, when the cars were
crowded, four hours were said to be consumed in performing this fifteen
miles. We, however, did it in about two.
To us this bit of ride through the Florida woods is such a
never-ceasing source of interest and pleasure, that we do not mind the
slowness of it, and should regret being whisked by at steam-speed. We
have come over it three times; and each time the varieties of shrubs and
flowers, grasses and curious leaves, were a never-failing study and
delight. Long reaches of green moist land form perfect flower-gardens,
whose variety of bloom changes with every month. The woods hang full of
beautiful climbing plants. The coral honeysuckle and the red bignonia
were in season now. Through glimpses and openings here and there we
could see into forests of wild orange-trees; and palmetto-palms raised
their scaly trunks and gigantic green fans. The passengers could not
help admiring the flowers: and as there were many stops and pauses, and
as the gait of the horses was never rapid, it was quite easy for the
gentlemen to gather and bring in specimens of all the beauties; and the
flowers formed the main staple of the conversation. They were so very
bright and gay and varied, that even the most unobserving could not but
notice them.
St. Augustine stands on a flat, sandy level, encompassed for miles and
miles by what is called "scrub,"--a mixture of low palmettoes and bushes
of various descriptions. Its history carries one back almost to the
middle ages. For instance, Menendez, who figured as commandant in its
early day, was afterwards appointed to command the Spanish Armada, away
back in the times of Queen Elizabeth; but, owing to the state of his
health, he did not accept the position.
In the year 1586, Elizabeth then being at war with Spain, her admiral,
Sir Francis Drake, bombarded St. Augustine, and took it; helping
himself, among other things, to seven brass cannon, two thousand pounds
in money, and other booty. In 1605 it was taken and plundered by
buccaneers; in 1702, besieged by the people of the Carolinas; in 1740,
besieged again by Gen. Oglethorpe of Georgia.
So we see that this part of our country, at least, does not lie open to
the imputation so often cast upon America, of having no historic
associations; though, like a great deal of the world's history, it is
written in letters of blood and fire.
Whoever would know, let him read Parkman's "Pioneers of France," under
the article "Huguenots in Florida," and he will see how the first
Spanish governor, Menendez, thought he did God service when he butchered
in cold blood hundreds of starving, shipwrecked Huguenots who threw
themselves on his mercy, and to whom he had extended pledges of shelter
and protection.
A government-officer, whose ship is stationed in Matanzas Inlet, told
me that the tradition is that the place is still haunted by the unquiet
ghosts of the dead. An old negro came to him, earnestly declaring that
he had heard often, at midnight, shrieks and moans, and sounds as of
expostulation, and earnest cries in some foreign language, at that
place; and that several white people whom he had taken to the spot had
heard the same. On inquiring of his men, Capt. H---- could find none who
had heard the noises; although, in digging in the sands, human bones
were often disinterred. But surely, by all laws of demonology, here is
where there ought to be the materials for a first-class ghost-story.
Here, where there has been such crime, cruelty, treachery, terror, fear,
and agony, we might fancy mourning shades wandering in unrest,--shades
of the murderers, forever deploring their crime and cruelty.
The aspect of St. Augustine is quaint and strange, in harmony with its
romantic history. It has no pretensions to architectural richness or
beauty; and yet it is impressive from its unlikeness to any thing else
in America. It is as if some little, old, dead-and-alive Spanish town,
with its fort and gateway and Moorish bell-towers, had broken loose,
floated over here, and got stranded on a sand-bank. Here you see the
shovel-hats and black gowns of priests; the convent, with gliding
figures of nuns; and in the narrow, crooked streets meet dark-browed
people with great Spanish eyes and coal-black hair. The current of life
here has the indolent, dreamy stillness that characterizes life in Old
Spain. In Spain, when you ask a man to do any thing, instead of
answering as we do, "In a minute," the invariable reply is, "In an
hour;" and the growth and progress of St. Augustine have been according.
There it stands, alone, isolated, connected by no good roads or
navigation with the busy, living world. Before 1835, St. Augustine was
a bower of orange-trees. Almost every house looked forth from these
encircling shades. The frost came and withered all; and in very few
cases did it seem to come into the heads of the inhabitants to try
again. The orange-groves are now the exception, not the rule; and yet
for thirty years it has been quite possible to have them.
As the only seaport city of any size in Florida, St. Augustine has many
attractions. Those who must choose a Southern home, and who are so
situated that they must remain through the whole summer in the home of
their choice, could not do better than to choose St. Augustine. It is
comparatively free from malarial fevers; and the sea-air tempers the
oppressive heats of summer, so that they are quite endurable.
Sea-bathing can be practised in suitable bathing-houses; but the sharks
make open sea-bathing dangerous. If one comes expecting a fine view of
the open ocean, however, one will be disappointed; for Anastasia
Island--a long, low sand-bar--stretches its barren line across the whole
view, giving only so much sea-prospect as can be afforded by the arm of
the sea--about two miles wide--which washes the town. Little as this may
seem of the ocean, the town lies so flat and low, that, in stormy
weather, the waves used to be driven up into it, so as to threaten its
destruction. A sea-wall of solid granite masonry was deemed necessary to
secure its safety, and has been erected by the United-States Government.
This wall affords a favorite promenade to the inhabitants, who there
enjoy good footing and sea-breezes.
What much interested us in St. Augustine was to see the results of such
wealth and care as are expended at the North on gardening being brought
to bear upon gardens in this semi-tropical region. As yet, all that we
have seen in Florida has been the beginning of industrial experiments,
where utility has been the only thing consulted, and where there has
been neither time nor money to seek the ornamental. Along the St. John's
you can see, to-day, hundreds of places torn from the forest, yet
showing the unrotted stumps of the trees; the house standing in a glare
of loose white sand, in which one sinks over shoes at every step. If
there be a flower-garden (and, wherever there is a woman, there will
be), its prospects in the loose sliding sands appear discouraging.
Boards and brick-edgings are necessary to make any kind of boundaries;
and a man who has to cut down a forest, dig a well, build a house, plant
an orange-grove, and meanwhile raise enough garden-stuff to pay his way,
has small time for the graces.
But here in St. Augustine are some families of wealth and leisure,
driven to seek such a winter-home, who amuse themselves during their
stay in making that home charming; and the results are encouraging.
In the first place, the slippery sand-spirit has been caught, and
confined under green grass-plats. The grass problem has been an earnest
study with us ever since we came here. What grass will bear a steady
blaze of the sun for six months, with the thermometer at a hundred and
thirty or forty, is a question. It is perfectly easy, as we have proved
by experiment, to raise flattering grass-plats of white clover, and even
of the red-top, during the cool, charming months of January, February,
and March; but their history will be summed up in the scriptural
account--"which to day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven"--as soon
as May begins.
The chances of an enduring sod for ornamental purposes are confined to
two varieties,--the broad and the narrow leafed Bermuda grasses. These
have roots that run either to the centre of the earth, or far enough in
that direction for practical purposes; and are, besides, endowed with
the faculty of throwing out roots at every joint, so that they spread
rapidly. The broad-leafed kind is what is principally employed in St.
Augustine; and we have seen beautifully-kept gardens where it is cut
into borders, and where the grass-plats and croquet-grounds have been
made of it to admirable advantage. A surface of green in this climate is
doubly precious to the eye.
We were visiting in a house which is a model for a hot climate. A wide,
cool hall runs through the centre; and wide verandas, both above and
below, go around the whole four sides. From these we could look down at
our leisure into the foliage of a row of Magnolia grandiflora, now in
blossom. Ivy, honeysuckles, manrundia, and a host of other
climbing-plants, make a bower of these outside corridors of the house.
The calla-lilies blossom almost daily in shaded spots; and beds of
fragrant blue violets are never without flowers. Among the ornamental
shrubbery we noticed the chaparral,--a thorny tree, with clusters of
yellow blossoms, and long, drooping, peculiar leaves, resembling in
effect the willow-leafed acacia. The banana has a value simply as an
ornamental-leaf plant, quite apart from the consideration of its fruit,
which one can buy, perhaps, better than one can raise, in this part of
Florida; but it is glorious, when the thermometer is going up into the
hundreds, to see the great, fresh, broad, cool leaves of the banana-tree
leaping into life, and seeming to joy in existence. In groups of
different sizes, they form most beautiful and effective shrubbery. The
secret of gardening well here is to get things that love the sun. Plants
that come originally from hot regions, and that rejoice the hotter it
grows, are those to be sought for. The date-palm has many beautiful
specimens in the gardens of St. Augustine. A date-palm, at near view, is
as quaint and peculiar a specimen of Nature as one can imagine. Its
trunk seems built up of great scales, in which ferns and vines root
themselves, and twine and ramble, and hang in festoons. Above, the
leaves, thirty feet long, fall in a feathery arch, and in the centre,
like the waters of a fountain, shoot up bright, yellow, drooping
branches that look like coral. These are the flower-stalks. The fruit,
in this climate, does not ripen so as to be good for any thing.
One gentleman showed me a young palm, now six feet high, which he had
raised from a seed of the common shop date, planted four years ago. In
this same garden he showed me enormous rose-trees, which he had formed
by budding the finest of the Bourbon ever-blooming roses in the native
Florida rose. The growth in three years had been incredible; and these
trees are an ever-springing fountain of fresh roses. There is a
rose-tree in St. Augustine, in a little garden, which all the
sight-seers go to see. It is a tree with a trunk about the size of an
ordinary man's arm, and is said to have had a thousand roses on it at a
time. Half that number will answer our purpose; and we will set it down
at that. Rose-slugs and rose-bugs are pests unheard of here. The rose
grows as in its native home. One very pretty feature of the houses here
struck me agreeably. There is oftentimes a sort of shaded walk under
half the house, opening upon the garden. You go up a dusty street, and
stand at a door, which you expect will open into a hall. It opens, and a
garden full of flowers and trees meets your view. The surprise is
delightful. In one garden that we visited we saw a century-plant in
bud. The stalk was nineteen feet high; and the blossoms seemed to
promise to be similar to those of the yucca. The leaves are like the
aloe, only longer, and twisted and contorted in a strange, weird
fashion. On the whole, it looked as if it might have been one of the
strange plants in Rappicini's garden in Padua.
The society in St. Augustine, though not extensive, is very delightful.
We met and were introduced to some very cultivated, agreeable people.
There is a fair prospect that the city will soon be united by railroad
to Jacksonville, which will greatly add to the facility and convenience
of living there. We recrossed the railroad at Tekoi, on our way home, in
company with a party of gentlemen who are investigating that road with a
view of putting capital into it, and so getting it into active running
order. One of them informed me that he was also going to Indian River to
explore, in view of the projected plan to unite it with the St. John's
by means of a canal. Very sensibly he remarked, that, in order to really
make up one's mind about Florida, one should see it in summer; to which
we heartily assented.
By all these means this beautiful country is being laid open, and made
accessible and inhabitable as a home and refuge for those who need it.
On the steamboat, coming back, we met the Florida Thoreau of whom we
before spoke,--a devoted, enthusiastic lover of Nature as she reveals
herself in the most secluded everglades and forests. He supports
himself, and pays the expenses of his tours, by selling the curiosities
of Nature which he obtains to the crowd of eager visitors who throng the
hotels in winter. The feathers of the pink curlew, the heron, the crane,
the teeth of alligators, the skins of deer, panther, and wild-cat, are
among his trophies. He asserted with vehemence that there were
varieties of birds in Florida unknown as yet to any collection of
natural history. He excited us greatly by speaking of a pair of pet pink
curlews which had been tamed; also of a snow-white stork, with sky-blue
epaulet on each shoulder, which is to be found in the everglades. He was
going to spend the whole summer alone in these regions, or only with
Indian guides; and seemed cheerful and enthusiastic. He should find
plenty of cocoanuts, and would never need to have a fever if he would
eat daily of the wild oranges which abound. If one only could go in
spirit, and not in flesh, one would like to follow him into the
everglades. The tropical forests of Florida contain visions and wonders
of growth and glory never yet revealed to the eye of the common
traveller, and which he who sees must risk much to explore. Our best
wishes go with our enthusiast. May he live to tell us what he sees!
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