Jacksonville.--Our hotel.--Greenleaf’s museum.--Floridian
curiosities.--East winds and tropical breezes.--Strawberry packing.
We shake the dust from our garments and wash our travel-stained faces,
and by the time we descend to the dining-room we find that the regular
_table-d’hôte_ dinner is over, but the tables are still laid for the
accommodation of late comers. Some of the lights are out, the rest are
turned low, and scores of dusky shadows seem to be hiding in the distant
corners of the big room. The tables are laid with snow-white cloths, and
furnished with shining silver and glass and flowers, but the long saloon
is so empty and still it looks like a dead banquet lying in state rather
than the preparations for a social meal. However, as we enter with a few
others, the lights flash up and everything is lively enough, the
ever-attentive black waiters bustle briskly about, and by the time we
are comfortably seated the first instalment of our meal is before us.
Judging from the first ladle of soup, you may generally tell what your
dinner will be, they say. So from our first dainty dish of roast oysters
we augured well for our general entertainment. They are evidently
accustomed to cater for epicures and invalids; every dish is delicately
served; even if you were not hungry you would be tempted to eat. We had
scarcely commenced when our waiter inquired, in an insinuating whisper,
“Would we like a little ‘blue cat?’”
We know that in some countries rats and mice are considered rare
dainties, and even in the more civilised quarters of the globe snails
and frogs are regarded as luxurious tit-bits. We desired the blue cat to
be served, and half expected to see the feline animal served up--claws,
tail, and all smothered in sauce piquante! And why not? I believe that
French art could dress up the sole of an old shoe, or even a rusty
door-nail so as to tempt the appetite and sit easy on the digestion.
However, our blue cat turned out to be a familiar fish of most delicious
flavour; we had made acquaintance with it before, but had not been
introduced to it by its proper name; we had eaten “blue cat,” but knew
it not.
It is growing late in the month of March, and Jacksonville is not
itself, they tell us. A month ago, and the hotels were all crowded, and
so great was the influx of people they could not be comfortably housed;
fair ladies and fastidious gentlemen were forced into strange quarters,
taking their places, like aristocratic stowaways, in garrets, in lumber
rooms, or in any hole or corner where humanity can stretch itself and
sleep. Such scores of invalids and pleasure-seekers come hither in
search of health or amusement during the winter months, that although
there are many first-class hotels, and over a hundred and
fifty--counting those of a second-class and boarding-houses
together--yet even then the accommodation is scarcely enough for the
visitors. Everybody flocks to the large hotels; they like the elegantly
upholstered drawing-rooms, with their gorgeous decorations and gilded
mirrors, the lofty corridors, and, above all, the well-appointed
_cuisine_. There are some people who would rather sleep on a shelf with
their feet out of the window, like _Alice in Wonderland_, and enjoy
these luxuries, than occupy a large airy room with commonplace comforts.
During the season Jacksonville is the gayest of gay cities; its hotels
are brilliantly lighted, and the sounds of mirth and music float from
its open windows; there are concerts, private theatricals, picnics and
water-parties, no end of them. The flagging spirits of the invalids are
stirred and stimulated by the general gaieties round them; they are
driven to forget themselves, and have no time to dwell upon their own
ailments, as they are apt to do in their own domestic circle, with
anxious sympathising friends around them. Perhaps in the early stages
this is well, but in the later phases of disease the necessity of
dressing, and dining, and living in public is the heavy penalty paid for
such enjoyment. Some, however, seem to think that it is cheap at the
price.
In the morning we sally forth on a tour of inspection through the
streets of Jacksonville. The roads are so heavy with deep sand, that
driving is attended with much dust and discomfort. A lumbering vehicle
passes us on the road and we are enveloped in a cloud of fine white
sand, and grope our way with closed eyes until it has had time to settle
itself. No one, unless disposed to self-martyrdom, will think of
entering a vehicle except under direst necessity; but there are
delightful little street cars, running on an iron tramway, which take
you the entire round of the city, past all the hotels, the stores and
principal thoroughfares, and bring you back to the starting-place for
five cents. Walking is here a most delightful exercise; the side-walks
everywhere are laid with light springy planks on which it is a pleasure
to tread. We stroll on in a kind of go-as-you-please, walking-made-easy
fashion, as though we never wanted to stop. The streets are all wide,
and beautifully shaded with vigorous young water-oaks, whose luxuriant
green foliage is a contrast to the pines and palmettoes we have lately
been passing through. So rich and so dense is their wealth of leaves,
so extensive their branches, that in places they reach above our heads
across a roadway seventy-two feet wide, and we walk on under an arching
roof of green; so rapid is their growth in these latitudes that some
were pointed out to me which had attained to ten feet circumference in
forty-two years. Some grow strong and lusty in the clinging clasp of the
mistletoe, and are only saved from being smothered in its tender
embraces by the pruning-knife, which cuts down and strews the ground
with all such pleasant parasites as would otherwise sap the strength and
destroy the life of the strong young oaks. Whichever way we turn we look
through long vistas of green.
The homes of the settled population of Jacksonville are very beautiful,
and are built in pretty fanciful styles--no sameness nor dull uniformity
anywhere. Some are surrounded by blooming gardens, for here the gardens
bloom all the year round; as one flower fades and falls another takes
its place, so the floral army is always “in position.” Some are covered
with creeping plants and vines, others buried in orange-groves or
embowered in shrubs, oleanders, and magnolia trees. There is no
unsightly or incongruous feature anywhere in this lovely city; it is
literally composed of handsome hotels, elegant dwellings, and smiling
gardens. The shops are congregated on one spot, instead of being
scattered in odd corners throughout the city, and are situated in a long
line on Bay Street, where you may enjoy a pleasant promenade and
transact your business at the same time. In these shops you will find
every possible commodity of merchandise, from the baby’s teething coral
to the grandfather’s gravestone, for such _articles de luxe_ are
sometimes wanted even in Florida. A brisk trade is carried on in all
kinds of Floridian curiosities in this beautiful semi-tropical city. You
may buy bracelets and earrings of delicately-tinted sea beans, set in
silver or gold. Some say that these beans are the fruit of a leguminous
plant, which drops from the pod into the sea; others suggest that they
are washed over from the vines which grow along the shores of the West
Indies; but wherever they come from they are here in abundance and in
great variety of colours and shapes--some are opaque, some red, some a
rich brown, and some (the choicest specimens) are smoothly polished and
speckled like a leopard’s skin. Here also may be found some beautiful
specimens of Indian shell-work, and graceful plumes of dried grasses,
either natural or dyed in all the colours of the rainbow. The ladies
wear palmetto hats trimmed with leaves or feathery flowers made from
these grasses--quite a new and extremely elegant style of millinery. But
alligators’ teeth are mostly in demand; gentlemen wear them on their
watch-chains, as studs, as buttons, even as ornaments to their
umbrellas and walking-sticks; the ladies wear them set in all kinds of
fanciful ornaments. A lovely molar set in gold drops from her pretty
ear, or a row of sharp incisors coil round her wrist and grin from their
gold setting, as though they have just come from the dentist; or they
twine, half smothered in coral tongues or trellis-work of gold, about
her neck. Situated on this street, too, are the principal banks and
wholesale mercantile houses, the proprietors of which are so energetic
and enterprising they bid fair to make this the chief commercial city in
the state. The Aston Buildings, where every possible information
concerning anything or everything may be obtained--a collection of
legal, shipping, and insurance offices--are situated on the corner of
Bay and Hogan Streets. Close by, Mr. Greenleaf has quite a museum of
rare specimens of Floridian curiosities, connected with a well-stocked
bazaar, which is filled with all kinds of quaint things either for use
or ornament. This is well worth a visit, as, in addition to other
attractions, there is a kind of menagerie in the back part of the
premises, where wild cats, owls, snakes, alligators, and many other
monstrosities are on view. There is a large tank of infant alligators,
varying from six inches to a foot long. These are for sale, and are
greatly in request. I have seen them bought, packed in thick cardboard
boxes with perforated tops, and sent as presents to friends in distant
parts of the country, travelling by mail post-paid. I am told that they
rarely meet with an accident by the way, but arrive safely at their
journey’s end, hungry, but in good condition--a rather unique kind of
present, and decidedly embarrassing token of friendly remembrance.
For nearly a mile this busy business thoroughfare is lined on either
side with shops of every possible description--houses of entertainment
and variegated open stores, wine merchants, barbers’ shops, millinery
stores, fancy goods; the windows gaily dressed, all aglow with bright
colours and glittering ornaments. Elegantly dressed women and gentlemen,
the _jeunesse dorée_ of the eastern cities, saunter to and fro. It seems
as though a bit of Regent Street had been cut out and plumped down on
the skirts of this semi-tropical city.
We turn a few steps out of this animated thoroughfare, and are in a
perfect elysium; we feel as though we had turned our backs upon the
world, and are already on our way to paradise--we forget all about the
serpent. Although it is still spring-time, the thermometer reaches to
85°. They tell us that that is the maximum summer heat, and that such
weather is most unusual at this early season. The heat that would be
unendurable elsewhere is by no means oppressive here; we enjoy a stroll
through the shady streets at midday. Though the sun is at its zenith,
there is no hot glare of light anywhere, but a soft delicious breeze is
blowing--an “east wind” they call it, but it bears no resemblance to the
stormy virago who plays that _rôle_ in more northern latitudes, hurling
down church steeples, playing bagatelle with the chimney-pots, and,
worst of all, attacking with its biting breath poor helpless humanity.
In vain mankind buttons its greatcoat, and clasps its warm furs round
it, the east wind finds out its weakest place, and plays the devil’s own
tune upon its naked nerves, racks its bones with rheumatic twinges,
shooting neuralgic pains, making a target of the human body and hitting
the bull’s eye every time. Driven out of the open streets, people creep
in and cower down at their own fireside, but it follows them, it cannot
be kept out by bolts and bars; as subtle and invisible as thought it
steals down the throat, gives an evil touch to the bronchial tubes,
wrings the liver with a cruel hand, and even spoils the temper, like a
wicked old wretch as it is. One doesn’t so much mind facing the good
honest blustering north wind, it is an open foe, and in some way you can
defend yourself against it; but the east is a malicious insinuating
enemy, it will attack you even in your bed before you have had time to
put a woollen nightcap on. Here, however, it is soft and balmy, full of
a spicy fragrance; it seems to come down new-born, straight from the
gate of heaven, breathing the breath of angels, and laden with the soft
airs of eternal spring. Who can tell? Perhaps as it grows older and
travels onward it may gather evil by the way, absorb the miasmic
exhalations from the earth and from the miseries and vices of mankind
till its temper is spoilt, and it becomes as hard, cruel, and bitter as
the east wind of our own land--which we must again meet presently. But
here all is fresh and delightful. We don’t find in the face of the child
the inborn sins of its manhood, so we revel in this balmy breeze, and
give no thought to the east wind that may be afar off sweeping our
native streets, holding our friends and our foes alike in its cruel
grip.
Down on the wharf the air is scented with strawberry perfume, for, as I
think I have said elsewhere, the great packing-houses are situated here,
and trains and vessels fruit-laden come from all parts of the state and
disgorge their treasures. An immense trade in fruit and vegetables is
carried on--early peas, young potatoes, asparagus, pine-apples, and
strawberries being largely exported to the eastern and northern states;
business is brisk everywhere, but there is no confusion. Hundreds of
hands are busy packing the rich luscious strawberries in the
ice-boxes--ice above, ice below, ice everywhere; then they are
hermetically sealed and sent to New York or elsewhere, arriving there in
perfection, as though they were just fresh gathered. In front of the
wharf, lying along the river, are several small pleasure boats and some
large three-masted schooners, dipping and fretting and tossing their
mastheads, as though they were in a hurry to get their lumber freight
and be gone; the huge mill is whirring busily, its iron teeth tearing
the king of the forest to pieces as fast as it can, perhaps cutting up
and slicing some of that large family of pines we have been lately
passing through. Who knows? perhaps they may return one day shaped into
the tall strong masts of some noble ship, bearing her fluttering sails
on high, creaking and swaying in the wind as though struggling to get to
their silent brotherhood on the plains up yonder, and tell them how much
of the world they have seen, and what strange peoples they have borne
across the seas.
The busy wharves, the beautiful river, picturesque streets and Arcadian
surroundings, make this first glimpse of Florida delightful. We have
nothing to do but revel in the breeze and bask in the sunshine, and we
do it.
Jacksonville has so many advantages that it is rapidly becoming the
favourite resort of travelling multitudes. So rapid has been its growth
during the short period of its existence that its population already
numbers about 11,000; it is everywhere lighted with gas, has an
excellent water supply (though I cannot say much for the water, it
should be used as an outward application only). The postal and
telegraphic system is as near perfection as such arrangements generally
are; they have even the latest scientific improvement, the telephone.
You may travel to and from anywhere and everywhere. There is a perfect
system of river traffic, and trains are dashing in and out of the city
all day long.
It seems to us a pity that the invalid population should take their
flight so early; the weather is still perfect, and I am told it is
likely to continue so for the next two months, when it will literally be
emptied, even of its floating population. Some of its infatuated
inhabitants live there all the year round; they tell me it is delightful
even in the height of summer--“there has never been a case of sunstroke
known, there is no malaria, no fever,” no anything that humanity needs
to avoid. But these are interested folk; I shall have something to say
on that subject presently.