Many other places may possess their varied amusements, but Pensacola can
be reckoned among the cities having attractions sufficient to render a
sojourn very agreeable. It is here the sun gently declines, leaving a
train of glory behind. The clouds then loom up lazily in serried ranks,
and the breakers from Fort Pickens roar in the distance, like unhappy
spirits of strife, when a swift breeze comes from the surrounding
forest, and warns the sails to come to their moorings for safety. While
we are impressed with the thought that this has been a spot around which
many historic records have clustered--that the days of its departed
grandeur are forever gone--still an invisible presence encircles it,
which appears sacred, while a solemn echo comes from the remembrance of
past pomp, that reminds us of the perishable nature of all earthly
pageant.
Pensacola was first explored, and a settlement commenced, by De Luna, in
1561, who landed on the bay as it now appears, naming it Santa Maria.
This feeble colony, on account of hardships, became discouraged and
returned home. The first permanent settlement was made by the French in
1691.
The present city of Pensacola stands on a bay of the same name, which
contains a safe and capacious harbor, where vessels drawing twenty-one
feet of water can enter at low-tide, and find shelter and fine
facilities for anchorage. It was formerly named Ochusa, from a tribe of
Indians who lived here. Where the city is now built it is fine siliceous
sand, supported by an understratum of clay, which is of varied colors.
This clay is manufactured into brick, from which some of the houses are
built, also pottery, and the monkey-jug, or water-cooler, so much used
among the Spaniards in Cuba and Key West. The present plan of the city
was laid out by the English in 1763, after they took possession of it.
The streets cross each other at right angles, making squares of two
hundred and fifty by four hundred feet, with a bay front of nearly a
thousand feet. Many fine buildings were erected at that time--among
which might be mentioned Casa Blanca, the residence of the Governor. The
gardens attached to the city lots, the strong fortifications, and the
edifices of different designs which graced the streets and squares, were
the pride of Florida. The Governor rode in his chariot, making
pleasure-trips to his landed estates, six miles from town, escorted by
his postilions, and surrounded by his companions in authority, thus
deporting himself like a genuine scion of royalty. During these days of
prosperity Pensacola was attacked and conquered by the Spaniards under
Count Galvez, in 1781. The place was defended by General Campbell; but
the magazine at Fort St. Michael being blown up, resistance was useless,
and the town surrendered. This event marked the commencement of its
decline; the work of twenty years was blighted, and the prosperity of
the city waned. When Florida was ceded by Spain to the United States,
St. Augustine in East Florida, and Pensacola in West Florida, were the
only towns of any importance in the State. The country about the city
was poor, the good lands of the interior being occupied by the Indians;
besides, the original settlers were not as enterprising a class of
people as those in East Florida. The above considerations, together with
disease, fierce contests with foes of other nations, its
inaccessibility, and no large water-course connecting it with the
interior fertile cotton-lands, are the combined reasons why Pensacola is
not equal in size to any town on the Gulf.
Fort Don Carlos de Barrancas--the word Barrancas signifying _broken
ground_--was so named on account of the rugged appearance of the site on
which the fort stands. The first fortification is supposed to have been
built by a commander named Auriola, in 1687, as a defense against the
French. It was a square, with bastions, situated near the site of the
present Fort Barrancas. What remains of the ancient fort was built by
the Spaniards--it being a tetragon, with salient angles at each corner,
and formerly had a tower one story higher than the curtains, which
served as a point for reconnoisance. It has an outer scarp, or glacis,
surrounded by a barbette twenty-two feet wide. It contains an embrasure,
the firing being done from the loop-holes and parapets with flank
defenses. The barbette is overgrown with weeds and cactus, all armed
with projectiles more to be dreaded than any other weapons of warfare
in position here now. A deep dry-well is visible near one corner of this
barbette, supposed to contain the buried treasure of the Spanish
Governor, and for which it is said he ordered three of his men to be
killed to prevent their divulging the secret. No guns are mounted on the
parapet but two Rodmans of one hundred pounds caliber. The entrance to
the old fort is through a scarp gallery several hundred feet in length.
At the terminus are three arched rooms, the arches constructed without
nails, from native pine boards, the grooves being fitted to each other.
Here was the Governor's chamber for council, the ordnance department,
and barracks. The materials employed for the walls were only brick and
mortar, both in the old part built by the Spaniards, and the new
constructed by the Americans. From the form and thickness of one part of
the fort, it is supposed to contain a dungeon, but no efforts have yet
been made at excavation, to explore its hidden secrets. The entire
fortress, both ancient and modern, is surrounded by a dry moat, the main
entrance having a portcullis.
The present fortification of Fort Pickens was built in 1830. It is
situated on a strip of land fifty miles in length, and only one-half
mile in width, called Santa Rosa Island. This ground has been the scene
of various conflicts during its early settlement, of which we have a
record for nearly two centuries. The contests between the Spanish and
French were always severe, the victor destroying the forts and
devastating every thing within reach--which accounts for the
disappearance of the ancient landmarks.
Fort St. Michael and Fort St. Bernard were other works of defense built
in the rear of Pensacola, but designed originally to protect the town
and harbor, and also to serve as a safeguard against the Indians. The
principal fort, St. Michael, was attacked in 1781 by Don Galvez, when a
bomb-shell struck the eastern glacis of Fort St. Bernard, and, in
rebounding, blew up the magazine, destroying the principal redoubt,
which compelled the garrison to surrender by capitulation.
It is but little more than half a century since Colonel Nichols, a
British officer, came to Pensacola, and issued his proclamation,
offering a reward of ten dollars each for the scalps of colonists.
However, the career of this bold usurper and ambitious adventurer was
soon terminated by General Andrew Jackson and his brave men, who marched
into the town, then defended by a fleet of seven armed vessels, three
forts, block-houses, and batteries of cannon defending the streets. The
center column of Jackson's army was composed of regulars, and presented
as formidable a front in appearance and strength as the ancient Grecian
phalanx. The battery was stormed by Captain Laval, who, although
severely wounded in the engagement, afterward recovered from his
injuries. The Spanish Governor, Marinquez, met the American forces, and
begged that quarter might be shown the citizens. To this proposition
General Jackson acceded, protecting individual property as far as
possible. At this time Fort Barrancas was blown up, all the guns being
spiked but two. This enabled Colonel Nichols to escape with his fleet.
All the fortifications being now destroyed, General Jackson left, after
holding the place two days. The Spaniards then commenced building Fort
Barrancas, when Colonel Nichols proffered his aid; but the Governor
refused, telling him his friend General Jackson would do better.
In 1818 Jackson received information that the Spanish would not permit
supplies for his troops to ascend the Escambia Bay, while the Indians
were supplied from Spanish stores. The Governor warned General Jackson
against making an attack, saying he would be opposed by all their
forces; but, with his usual go-ahead zeal, he marched in and took
possession of the town without opposition. The Governor had taken refuge
in Fort Barrancas, whither Jackson proceeded during the night, and
commenced erecting breastworks. The Spaniards fired upon them, which was
returned with good effect by a howitzer. In a few hours the fortress
surrendered, and, by the terms of capitulation, the garrison was sent to
Havana. Soon after Jackson came into possession of Pensacola, he was
told that the Spanish Governor, Callavea, was in the act of sending
papers relating to land-titles away to Cuba, in direct violation of the
treaty. General Jackson demanded these documents, and, upon being
refused, he ordered Callavea into the calaboose, but released him on the
papers and boxes being returned. Afterward several of the Spanish
officers, suffering from outraged feelings, sent a remonstrance to
General Jackson on account of this unheard of indignity toward the
Spanish Governor. For this movement twelve of them were banished, thus
establishing the authority of Old Hickory beyond a doubt. The old
camping-ground of General Jackson is still pointed out as historic
ground. It was situated on what was known as the Blakely Road, which
passes the old sites of St. Bernard and St. Michael.
Pensacola once contained a plaza, which was an ornament to the city and
the admiration of all visitors. The grounds were in a high state of
cultivation where flourished the orange, lemon, olive, banana, guava,
and Japan plum-trees, ornamented with pleasure-walks, where the gay
cavaliers promenaded and made love to the beautiful señoritas, where the
delicate nonpareil displayed her painted plumage, the gay mocking-bird
sang her songs of joy, and the humming-bird sipped honey from nectarine
flowers, whose petals perfumed the air with fragrance. But stern want,
whose decrees are as unyielding as the Medean and Persian edicts, was
staring the Spanish garrison in the face at this time, and the
commissary stores being exhausted, the largest portion of these
beautiful grounds were sold to furnish the army with supplies. All that
remain vacant are the extremities of the old plaza, which form two
squares, known as Ferdinand and Seville, that are as barren of ornament
as the municipality of means to appropriate for its embellishment.
It is singular that a country whose original settlers were celebrated
for their chivalric daring and romance should preserve no vestige of
their former characteristics or peculiar nationalities. It is thus with
the present appearance of Pensacola. One portion indicates the march of
improvement, while the other, near the bay, has a faded appearance of
weather-beaten plank, except out on the wharves, where may be seen many
new buildings used for various purposes connected with shipping
operations. There are no fine blocks of elegant stores among the number,
but many one-story houses, some containing two, and a few three.
The old houses now standing are decidedly of Spanish architecture, with
the long verandas in front, accessible only at the ends by steps, the
jail-like double doors being made of wood, riveted with iron bolts, not
designed to look beautiful, but to be very substantial, or resist a
siege of small arms. The dormer-windows are frequent, while a few old
roofs are covered with tiles. A wide, substantial walk is built through
a portion of the town, stopping at no place in particular, but a
favorite promenade for ungallant sailors, where they reel like drunken
elephants, seven abreast, sometimes elbowing other pedestrians into the
marsh. A few brick pavements have been made, but the bricks present
their edges and ends uppermost as often as the flat sides, while
sand-wading, in many places, is the only alternative, street-crossings
being an unknown luxury. Pensacola is almost the only town in Florida
where no fabled fount is supposed or represented to exist, whose waters
heal all infirmities and rejuvenate declining years--where no tales are
told of elysian elegance to fascinate visitors into their houses of
entertainment, or invitations given to take strolls on the beach, and
breathe the sea-air with its breezy freshness, always warranted more
beneficial to the invalid than all other atmospheres that ever fanned a
hectic cheek, or had been inhaled by consumptives, that will enable them
to recover sooner than any other influence by which they could be
surrounded. The principal employment of persons here is maritime, from
the fisherman, who spreads his tiny sail and dances on the waves,
fearless as a sea-gull, in his bateau that looks only a speck on the
waters deep and wide, to the full-rigged ship which plows the angry
waves, and "thrills the wanderers of that trackless way." The prosperity
of this place is dependent upon the adventitious condition of the
changing and fluctuating trade in other places, together with a demand
for their only commodity--lumber. No appearance of pomp in fine turnouts
is seen--no matched spans or grand phaetons. Those who ride go in
one-horse vehicles, which move noiseless as the midnight assassin,
through sandy streets of an uncertain depth. A majority of the people
are both plain and practical in all their movements. Their misfortunes
seem to have soured them, embittered their lives and saddened their
hearts, making them sullen, while others converse as though they had
settled into an apathetic despair, mingled with clouds of darkness, and
peopled by phantoms of pinching want. This season business is terribly
dull. Stevedores without employment are as abundant as plank without
purchasers, and uneasy as a mullet out of water. The profession of
gambling is well filled, which can be seen by the glare of diamonds and
watch-chains on suspicious-looking men, with no vocation but to come
here and prey on the hard earnings of poor, unsuspecting sailors. A ship
coming in the bay creates as much commotion as a big wreck in Key West.
Unoccupied boarding-houses for workingmen are numerous. What is lacking
in accommodations can be supplied in charges. There are one or two
boarding-houses, called hotels, designed for the better class, charging
three dollars _per diem_. Visitors, or persons of leisure, do not often
come here to remain long, consequently no grand hotels for their
entertainment. But there is one attractive feature in Pensacola even
now, and that is the bountiful supply of rich pine. "What a beautiful
fire!" we hear every one exclaim, as the boarders take their seats in
the recently-illumined parlor after supper, when all without is dark and
drear. Then they give us wood in our rooms, where any one can make a
fire in a minute, when sickness drives away sleep. How it lights up the
pale faces of our friends, as though the glow of health had suddenly
wafted her magic touch over them, dispelling the pallor of disease and
marks of suffering! How it softens the gloom of night and diverts our
minds with its cheerful blaze, as it permeates every thing like the
visit of a bright messenger, when the winds howl as if they were demons
from the realms of Erebus! What a cheerful greeting it gives us from the
old fire-place, with its burnished massive fender and brass andirons!
Then it flashes and faints on the wall, or in the corners, hides in the
curtains, to be replaced with another flash, followed by a report like
the distant roar of artillery. The Indians loved to dance around its
bright light in celebrating their fiendish orgies, or howl their rude
songs of welcome for the return of harvest, as the well-filled ears of
maize roasted before their camp-fires of resinous wood. With what
lingering looks of sadness did they see the last spark waft its tiny ray
into the heavens, as the morning dawned and the night-shades fled away,
on which they were to bid farewell to the happy home of their birth they
loved so well, and relinquished with such reluctance, when they thought
of the grand old _lightwood_ fires which had glistened away the gloom of
dense forests, or rendered powerless the malaria of swamps, and kept the
approach of wild beasts at bay!
All day constantly before our eyes is Ferdinand Park, which manifests
visible signs of a decline. Four old Spanish pieces of artillery are
planted in the center, and fastened with ropes, to balance the
standard-bearer of a powerful nation, and place in position, high in
mid-air, a pole, on which to unfurl the ensign of a great country. The
park-inclosure is dropping down as quietly as a rose-leaf in May. Here
stock ramble to graze with their bells on, presenting a rural landscape
of rustic life, and tired, bony old horses stray for sustenance; hogs,
with very thin sides and bristling backs, root about for herbage, or
roam through the streets, gathering, with eager haste, any thing like a
decayed apple or potato, of which some kind-hearted huckster has
relieved his stall or cart; while the cows wander in front of dry-goods
stores, trying to replenish the well-springs of vitality with stray
wisps of straw, bits of paper, or pasteboard, which have been swept out.
The lacteals of the poor brutes receive a small amount of sustenance
from such an uncertain source of nutritive matter--for that cause nearly
everybody in this region uses condensed milk. The William-goats
promenade with unrestrained freedom, giving concerts with their loud
treble voices, while the refrain is echoed by the young ones, resembling
the cries of a baby. If these sights and sounds, with variations, do not
always give pleasure to visitors, they break the monotony and furnish a
variety.
This town boasts a very substantially-built market-house, the material
used being brick. Only a few of the stalls are occupied, as the produce
is hauled about the streets in huckster-carts and sold, or kept in
stores by provision-dealers. During the lenten season, fishermen go out
soon in the morning, and, when they are successful, return singing, by
which means those wishing supplies can come and buy; but when they have
taken nothing, they row silently to shore, looking as though they had
toiled in vain. Sometimes the fish are too large to be conveyed whole,
when they are cut up and sold by the pound. Frequently two fishermen are
seen carrying a fish suspended between them, a portion of it trailing on
the ground. What a triumphal entry they make! What a proud look they
have, as they find themselves "the observed of all observers!" They
could not be induced to change places with the governor. Smaller fish
are carried in tubs, swung on a pole suspended between the shoulders of
two very brawny-looking men. They announce their approach by blowing a
large ox-horn, which is heard in the streets on Sabbath as other days.
The minister, invoking a blessing on his worshiping congregation, is
liable to have the interludes filled with the echo of trafficking
trumpets. Common fish are cheap. The pompano and red snapper, being the
choicest, are held at high prices. Beef and venison are plentiful, but
the beef is of rather a sinuous texture. Most vegetables would flourish
here during the winter, but, from a lack of enterprise, they are not
much cultivated. The only dream of prosperity ever indulged by these
people is ships coming in from foreign parts for lumber. One thousand
feet from low-water mark in Pensacola Bay is found fresh water, which is
obtained by boring or driving iron tubing through the salt water and
several strata of earthy deposit. The upper stratum is composed of
sediment, the second of quicksand, the third of blue clay, the fourth of
coral, the fifth of gravel, in which is found pure freestone water,
unadulterated with foreign matter, and clear as crystal. This water is
obtained at a distance of seventy feet below the surface of the earth.
These fresh-water fountains are of recent date, having made their
appearance among other improvements which are constantly being
discovered in this progressive age. These wells possess many advantages
over the old custom of hauling water from the springs in barrels through
the streets by hand, which furnished a means of support for those
employed to deliver water on the wharves for sale to ships, it being
their only vocation. The barrel was prepared by inserting a piece of
wood outside the head, in which were placed iron pivots. Two iron rings
were attached to the end of a rope that revolved upon these pivots. The
water-hauler threw the rope over his head and shoulders, then marched
along with the speed of an Andalusian pony--the barrel following like a
cart. A few water-barrels are to be seen rolling about the streets now,
but it constitutes only a precarious means of support to the "drawers of
water," when compared with the past.
Porpoises--belonging to the class _Phocoeena_--abound in the vicinity
of Pensacola. They range with other monsters of the deep, sporting in
the shoals, and playing around vessels anchored near the wharf, at times
approaching the shore gentle as cats. They are said to take their prey
by strategy, darting under an unsuspecting school of fish, and with one
stroke of their tail stunning enough to furnish them a fine repast. The
astonished fish is soon swallowed by the porpoise, without perceiving
the change that has taken place in his existence, when, instead of
searching for nourishment himself, he has commenced to sustain another.
Porpoise-oil contains the same properties as sperm, but porpoises are
not killed here, they being very harmless, and are said to act as a
protection against sharks to persons who bathe or fall in the bay.
The culture of tropical fruits has never been a success in Pensacola,
since so much of the timber has been destroyed. The few orange-trees
here have a stinted appearance in comparison with those in other
portions of the State. A constant strife is going on between the
north-west and trade-winds, the former sweeping down from the Rocky
Mountains, freighted with frost, which destroys the fruit and foliage of
the orange-trees. However, a suitably-arranged grove, with only a
southern exposure, would bear under ordinary treatment. Persons now
owning bearing-trees say they have been killed down three or four times.
The winds are too rude for the banana--it grows here only in summer,
with winter sheltering.
A little stream, called the "Washing Bayou," winds its way through the
town, gurgling as it rushes among the bushes, and noiseless as the
flight of an arrow when it glides over the snowy sands. Tiny fishes live
here unmolested, sporting in its clear waters, until they leave the
quiet home of their birth and go into the great sea, where many of them
are eaten by the big fishes that are constantly on the alert. Besides
the poetry in this musical stream, there is much practical utility
connected with its presence, as it subserves the purpose of city
laundry, where most of the soiled clothes are cleansed. More than a
hundred barefooted women can be seen at one time here, with short
dresses, standing in the water, their wide tables in front of them,
battling with unclean linen. After the garments are washed in this
water, which is said to possess peculiar cleansing properties, they are
spread on the green grass and bleached. No ordinary agitation affects
the stream, or makes the waters turbid, while it remains clear and warm
during the whole winter. Here Spanish, French, Creole, and _L'Africane_,
all combine together, working in harmony. Patrons to this branch of
industry can have their apparel manipulated in such language as they
prefer, or whatever shade of color belonging to the human species they
hold in the highest esteem. Hunters resort to this portion of the
country, where they spend weeks in camping and killing game. Every one
who comes to Florida imagines the supply of fish and flesh
inexhaustible, notwithstanding the heavy drafts that are made every
year. Complaint was made by the Indians of game becoming scarce within
certain localities during 1835, and the wonder is now that any thing
remains to be killed.
Ribaut, while describing his travels in this State, mentions the waters
of a great river as "boiling and roaring through the multitudes of all
kinds of fishes." Thoughtless persons having heretofore caused such a
wanton destruction of deer, laws have now been passed for their
protection. The method adopted mostly among hunters of running game with
hounds until exhausted, has a tendency to terrify the poor scared
animals, thus making them more shy, and retire farther into the
fastnesses of a country to a place of greater security. Old hunters say
they would just as soon eat a piece of dog-meat as deer killed when
overheated. The Indians resorted usually to still-hunting, taking the
stag-heads and hides to conceal themselves, and, with the use of their
imitative powers, induced many a thoughtless animal to approach them,
when the well-aimed arrow secured the victim as a prize to their skill.
The murderous guns now in use will soon destroy all the wild game in
Florida, as in other old-settled places, when stories of the
nimble-footed fawn, that gamboled with the calves and cattle while
feeding side by side, will be related as tales of the past history of
this country. Several times since Pensacola has been in possession of
the United States, that malignant form of disease known as yellow fever
has made it some unwelcome visits. During 1822 it was terribly fatal,
taking whole families and streets. It spread at this time like
wild-fire, and was supposed to have originated from a cargo of spoiled
cod-fish! In 1853, 1866, 1873, and 1874, it returned. Its last
appearance--in 1874--took them all by surprise. It commenced in August,
and continued until December. Different reasons have been assigned for
its last calamitous visit in 1874. Some say it was brought from Cuba;
others, that it was occasioned by the removal of a hospital from the
navy-yard, where yellow-fever patients had been sick. It was no
respecter of persons. The boatman in his bateau, the guard at his post
of duty, the soldier on drill, the colonel commanding, or the commodore
with his floating navy, all yielded to the fell destroyer. Three Sisters
of Mercy died in one day, the highest number of deaths during the space
of twenty-four hours in the city being ten. Persons who occupied houses
that had been closed and vacant during the fever, sickened and died
after the disease had subsided. The quarantine regulations now are
inefficient, while filth from every street and alley lies undisturbed,
thus inviting disease. The municipal authority is now thoroughly
Africanized, consisting of mayor, aldermen, and police force, while a
negro postmaster bears unblushingly the honors and emoluments connected
with his position. Before the last war (1861) many orange and fig-trees
were growing in private yards; but the Federal forces destroyed nearly
all of them, together with many of the houses and fences. The
squares--most of them--are now grown with opopanax, yapon, scrub, and
live-oak, while the twining grape-vine, climbing above its evergreen
foliage, produces a nearer resemblance to hummocks than the surroundings
of civilization which characterize refined life.
Perdido, or Lost Bay (so called from the bar at its entrance being
closed by quicksands), is thirty miles in length--the main tributary of
this bay being a river of the same name, whose banks are covered with
inexhaustible pine forests. This river furnishes excellent communication
with Perdido Bay, upon which are built several fine lumber-mills. These
mills are a recent enterprise, having been in operation only about four
years, thus giving employment to many operatives, and furnishing an
article of commerce to every part of the world. During the winter of
1873 one hundred and fifty square-rigged vessels could be counted
loading with lumber, also spars over one hundred feet in length, to
assist in floating ships from every part of the world. Wild game is
abundant in the forests about Perdido River, such as panthers, deer,
black bears, wild ducks, and turkeys.
Escambia Bay is another of the beautiful sheets of water by which
Pensacola is surrounded. It is eleven miles in length, and four in
width. It has a tributary of the same name, which courses through rich
hummock-lands, until it reaches the clear waters of the bay. The lagoons
and marshes that lie near this river abound in the remarkable amphibious
animals called alligators. The roaring of these creatures in spring-time
is deafening. They are of slow growth, but eventually attain an immense
size--a full-grown one being fifteen or twenty feet in length, with an
upper jaw, which moves, three feet long, the lower jaw remaining
stationary. Their skin is impenetrable to a ball, the whole body being
covered with a kind of horny plates, but the head and under the
fore-legs is vulnerable, and not bullet-proof. They build nests in the
form of a cone, three or four feet high, and five feet at the base. They
commence these nests by making a floor upon which they deposit a layer
of eggs, then a stratum of mortar, seven or eight inches in thickness,
then another layer of eggs, until the whole, superstructure is
completed. They are said to deposit over one hundred eggs in a nest.
These are hatched by the heat of the sun, together with the fermentation
of vegetable matter produced in the hillock. The mother-alligator
watches near during the period of incubation, and has been known to
attack persons who interrupted her embryo. When her young are hatched
she marches them out like a hen with her brood, leading and protecting
them, while they whine and bark around her like young puppies. Their
mother belongs to the cannibal species, eating up her young in their
babyhood, which precludes but few of them attaining their full size.
They move rapidly in water, although clumsy on land, wallowing in
mud-holes like a hog.
There are five churches in Pensacola for public worship--Presbyterian,
Methodist, Baptist, Roman Catholic, and Protestant Episcopal. No other
town in the State can produce so large a number of old members as the
Catholics in Pensacola. During the early history of this country the
devotees of this faith made pilgrimages to the Convent of St. Helena, a
religious order established by the Franciscan Friars. They spent weeks
in performing the journey to St. Helena, in St. Augustine. It was to
them what Jerusalem was to the Jews, or Mecca to the Mohammedans--their
holy city, their revered shrine for worship, where the "_Ego te
absolvo_" gave solace to the troubled conscience, and comfort to the
sin-burdened heart.
The demand for schools in the Pensacola market has hitherto been
limited; consequently the quality is not always of a superior kind. The
free schools are avoided by all who can do better. They are now under
the supervision of George W. Lindsley, county superintendent. He belongs
to the African class of humanity, and acquired his education while
acting in the capacity of body-servant to Judge Plantz, of the First
Judicial Circuit of the State of Florida. Four schools are supported
here by the public fund--two for each sex and color. The one for white
boys is taught by an old man who has evidently lost his temper and
outlived his days of usefulness as an instructor. His pupils looked
spiritless and indifferent to any thing like mental effort. They recited
badly, and appeared stupid. The female department is taught by a lady of
youthful and humble appearance. The timid little girls came to recite
with the admonition, "Now, if you don't know this lesson, I will switch
you." Numerous rods were lying about the floor, as though warfare had
been progressing, with weapons of very ancient date, recommended by
Solomon. The rooms occupied for the schools are two apartments in an old
private residence, the building in about as waning a condition as the
popularity of the institutions. Fifty children, all told, comprise the
number in this metamorphic condition. The citizens say they are taxed
beyond endurance to support schools, but never know what becomes of the
money. Perhaps they never try to ascertain in the right place, or at the
proper time, what disposition is made of the funds. Two colored schools
here are supported by the public funds. The building in which they are
taught was erected for the purpose--light, airy, and roomy--more
provision being made for the education of the colored race, all over the
State of Florida, than for the white. The great difficulty now is to
have the negroes brought up to the standard of appreciation. Only a few
can be prevailed upon to attend the schools provided for them, and they
belong mostly to a class of numskulls whose heads are so thick that an
idea could not get into their brains unless it was shot there with
bullet-force. Both the male and female schools have colored teachers.
The copy-books were handed me for inspection. Here is a specimen of the
copies: "Virtue is the persute," etc.; "Do a good child tell stories?"
The chirography was unmistakably original and inimitable, but the
spelling was not from Webster, nor the grammar of Butler's approval. The
pupils were in tolerable order--the secret of which, no doubt, lay on
the table, in the form of a huge leather strap--that relic of barbarism
revived--and a piece of plank for the more incorrigible cases.
The Catholics have two separate schools for the education of males and
females, besides a mixed school for colored children. The female school,
containing about sixty pupils, is under the direction of the Dominican
sisterhood. The children all arose and bowed politely when I visited
them; but no opportunity was offered for ascertaining their method of
teaching, or the proficiency of the young ladies, although I politely
asked to hear them recite. These wimpled teachers veil their movements
also. The Catholic school for boys is under the tutorage of an old
gentleman of the Irish style, whose looks resemble the description given
by Goldsmith of the "village school-master." The children were talking
aloud, caricaturing on slates, and exhibiting it to their companions,
whistling, and shaking their fists behind the teacher's back, these
employments being the principal exercises during my visit. The teacher
was energetic in his efforts to preserve order and hear the recitation.
He placed one offender on his knees for penance, and struck some more
of them with an immense ferule which he carried in his hand. When the
din and confusion drowned his voice, he resorted to jingling a bell and
screaming "Silence!" He evidently had a bigger contract than he knew how
to manage. The Pensacola boys are said to be very bad, whether from
association or the original sin born in them, has not been
decided--probably a combination of both.
Let no one imagine that in all this dross there is no pure gold. Mrs.
Scott, wife of the present rector of Christ Church, teaches a parochial
school, patronized by all, irrespective of creeds or forms of worship,
being always open to inspection for the friends of education. The pupils
exhibited a thoroughly progressive knowledge of all the branches which
they were studying. This school is governed by a direct appeal to the
elevating and moral qualities of the heart and soul, which lead the mind
upward, thus restraining their natural impulses. The pupils evinced a
surprising familiarity with blank verse, by transposing and parsing
lines from Paradise Lost--the work of that colossal mind whose soul,
illumined with inward light, soared beyond the star-lit domes of space,
to commune with chaos and the great mysteries of its unrevealed depths.