When De Soto journeyed through Florida and to the Mississippi River,
he found in this region the powerful tribe of Mauvillians, and their
village of Mavilla is mentioned in early histories of Florida. From
this is derived the name of Mobile, on the western bank of the river
near the head of Mobile Bay, the only seaport of the State of Alabama,
about thirty miles from the Gulf of Mexico. This was the original seat
of French colonization in the southwest, and for a few years the
capital of their colony of Louisiana. It was settled at the beginning
of the eighteenth century. In 1710 the Sieur de Bienville transferred
the earliest French colony from Biloxi to Mobile Bay, and many of the
first settlers were French Canadians. In 1723, however, the seat of
the colonial government was removed from Mobile to New Orleans. In
1763 this region was transferred to England; in 1780 England gave it
to Spain; and in 1813 Spain made it over to the United States. The
city is laid out upon a plain having a background of low hills; its
broad and quiet streets are shaded with live oaks and magnolias; and
everywhere are gardens, luxuriant with shrubbery and flowers. There is
a population approximating thirty-five thousand, but the city does not
make much progress, owing to the difficulties of maintaining a
deep-water channel, though this has been better accomplished of late.
Cotton export is the chief trade. There are attractive parks, a
magnificent shell road along the shore of the bay for several miles,
and fine estates with beautiful villas on the hills in the suburbs.
The harbor entrance from the Gulf is protected on either hand by Fort
Morgan and Fort Gaines, while the remains can be seen of several
batteries on the shores of the bay, relics of the Civil War. Over on
Tensas River is a ruin, Spanish Fort, one of the early colonial
defenses, while in the city is the Guard House Tower, a quaint old
structure built in Spanish style. Mobile was held by the Confederates
throughout the war, not surrendering until after General Lee had done
so in April, 1865, although the Union forces had previously captured
the harbor entrance. This capture was one of Admiral Farragut's
achievements. Having opened the Mississippi River in 1863, Farragut,
in January, 1864, made a reconnoissance of the forts at the entrance
to Mobile Bay, and expressed the opinion that with a single iron-clad
and five thousand men he could take the city. Several months elapsed,
however, before the attempt was made, but in August he got together a
fleet of four iron-clads and fourteen wooden vessels, and on the 5th
ran past the forts at the entrance, after a desperate engagement, in
which one of his ships, the Tecumseh, was sunk by striking a torpedo,
and he lost three hundred and thirty-five men. During the fight,
Farragut watched it and gave his directions from a place high up in
the main rigging of his flagship, the Hartford. Shoal water and
channel obstructions prevented his ascending to the city, but in a few
days the forts surrendered, the harbor was held, and blockade-running,
which had been very profitable, ceased.
Mobile Bay is one of the finest harbors on the coast of the Gulf of
Mexico. Its broad waters have low shores, backed by gentle slopes
leading up to forest-clad plateaus behind, a large surface being
wooded and displaying fine magnolias and yellow pines, while in the
lowland swamps and along the water-courses are cypress, and
interspersed the live oak, festooned with gray moss. But almost
everywhere Southern Alabama, like Florida, displays splendid pine
forests, reminding of Longfellow's invocation to _My Cathedral:_
"Like two cathedral towers these stately pines
Uplift their fretted summits tipped with cones;
The arch beneath them is not built with stones,
Not Art but Nature traced these lovely lines,
And carved this graceful arabesque of vines;
No organ but the wind here sighs and moans,
No sepulchre conceals a martyr's bones,
No marble bishop on his tomb reclines.
Enter! the pavement, carpeted with leaves,
Gives back a softened echo to thy tread!
Listen! the choir is singing; all the birds,
In leafy galleries beneath the eaves,
Are singing! Listen, ere the sound be fled,
And learn there may be worship without words."
And in garden and grove, all about, there is a wealth of semi-tropical
flowers and shrubbery, with their rich perfumes crowned by the
delicious orange tree, whereof Hoyt thus pleasantly sings:
"Yes, sing the song of the orange tree,
With its leaves of velvet green;
With its luscious fruit of sunset hue,
The finest that ever was seen;
The grape may have its bacchanal verse,
To praise the fig we are free;
But homage I pay to the queen of all,
The glorious orange tree."