DEPARTURE FROM HAVANA.--THE GULF OF MEXICO.--ARRIVAL AT VERA CRUZ.
The Steamer Dee.--Running down the coast.--Beautiful
scenery.--Associations awakened by it.--Columbus.--The
scenes of his glorious achievements.--The island
groups.--The shores of the continent.--"The Columbian
sea."--Disappointments and sufferings, the common
inheritance of genius.--Cervantes, Hylander, Camoens,
Tasso.--These waters rich in historical
incidents.--Revolutions.--Arrival at Vera Cruz.--The Peak of
Orizaba.--Description of Vera Cruz.--Churches.--The
Port.--San Juan de Ulloa.--Scarcity of Water.--The
suburbs.--Population.--Yellow Fever.
The British Royal mail steamer Dee, arriving at Havana on one of her
regular circuits, presented a very favorable opportunity to gratify a
disposition for change. Accordingly, on the 10th of February, I embarked on
board of her, with the intention of touching at Vera Cruz, and thence
proceeding to Tampico, and such other interesting points as my time and
health would allow.
The "Dee" is one of a Line of Steamers, built by a company in London, to
carry the mails, which are placed in charge of an officer, acting under the
direction of the British government. This company receives from the
government, two hundred and fifty thousand pounds annually. The vessels
average about one thousand tons each, and are so built as to be readily
altered into men-of-war, should they be required to strengthen the English
naval power. The Dee consumes about thirty-five tons of coal per day. Her
average speed, however, under the most favorable circumstances, does not
exceed eight and a half knots an hour. She is commanded by a sailing master
of the British navy, whose salary is about fifteen hundred dollars per
annum. She has been in service only two years, but has the appearance of
being a much older vessel; a circumstance caused no doubt by the
"retrenchments" consequent upon the unlimited extravagance of the company's
first outfit. Her so-called "accommodations" were very inferior, and the
table was miserably furnished, but the service of plate, emblazoned with
heraldic designs, was, unquestionably, beautiful.
We steamed out of the harbor at sunrise, the ever wakeful Moro looking
sternly down upon us as we passed under its frowning battlements; and,
being favored with delightful weather, skirted the coast as far as we
could, and took our departure from Cape Antonio.
Nothing can exceed the beauty and sublimity of the natural scenery thus
presented to our view, between Havana and the point of the Cape. The broad
rich plains, the gentle slopes, the luxuriant swells, the hills clothed
with verdure to their very crowns, the lofty mountains with their abrupt
and craggy prominences and ever changing forms, make up a landscape of the
richest and rarest kind, beautiful in all its parts, and exceedingly
picturesque in its general effect. The hills, with highly cultivated
plantations, extending from the lovely valleys below, in beautiful order
and luxuriance, far up towards their forest-crowned summits, looked green
and inviting, as if full of cool grottos and shady retreats; while the
far-off mountains where
"Distance lent enchantment to the view,"
seemed traversed with dark ravines and gloomy caverns, fit abodes for those
hordes of merciless banditti, whose predatory achievements have given to
the shores and mountain passes of Cuba, an unenviable pre-eminence in
outlawry.
The motion of our oaken leviathan, sweeping heavily along through the quiet
sea, created a long, low swell, which, like a miniature tide, rose gently
upon the resounding shore, washing its moss-covered bank, and momentarily
disturbing the echoes that lingered in its voiceless caves. It was painful
to feel that I was leaving those beautiful shores, never, in all
probability, to revisit them. A gloomy feeling took possession of my soul,
as if parting again, and for ever, from the shores of my early home. Then
came up, thronging upon the memory and the fancy, a multitude of historical
associations, suggested by the land before me, and the sea on whose bosom I
was borne--associations of the most thrilling and painful interest, and yet
so wonderfully arrayed in the gorgeous drapery of romance, that I would
not, if I could, dismiss them.
Albeit, then, I may be in imminent danger of running into vain repetitions,
in giving indulgence to the melancholy humor of the hour, I cannot refrain
from following out, in this place, where a clear sky and an open sea leave
me no better employment, some of those reflections, which, if indulged in
at all, might, perhaps, with equal appropriateness have found a place in
one of the previous chapters. With Cuba, one of the earliest, and the most
important of the great discoveries of Columbus, behind me--the shores of
Central America, the scene of his last and greatest labors in the cause of
science, before me--and the wide expanse of sea, which witnessed all his
toils, and sufferings, around me on every side--how could I do otherwise
than recall to mind all that he had accomplished, and all that he had
endured, in this region of his wonderful adventures! Here was the grand
arena of his more than heroic victories, the theatre of his proud triumph
over the two great obstacles, which, in all ages have opposed the march of
mind--the obstinate bigotry of the ignorant, and the still more obstinate
ignorance of the learned.
Behind me, far away toward the rising sun, was the little island of San
Salvador, where the New World, in all its elysian beauty, its virgin
loveliness, burst upon his view. Conception, Fernandina, and Isabella, the
bright enchanting beacons rising out of the bosom of the deep, to guide his
eager prow to Cuba, the "Queen of the Antilles," were there too, slumbering
on the outer verge of the coral beds of the Bahamas. Nearer, and full in
view, its mountain peaks towering to the skies, and stretching its long arm
nearly three hundred leagues away toward the south-east, lay the beautiful
island I had just left, the richest jewel of the ocean, the brightest gem
in the crown of Spain. Farther on in the same direction, and dimly descried
from the eastern promontories of Cuba, were the lofty peaks of St.
Domingo, beautifully flanked by Porto Rico on the right, and Jamaica on the
left. Then, farther still, sweeping in a graceful curve toward the
outermost angle of the Southern continent, and completing the emerald
chain, which nature has so beautifully thrown across the broad chasm that
divides the eastern shores of the two Americas, lay the windward cluster of
the Caribbean islands, terminating with Trinidad, in the very bosom of the
Gulf of Paria. Returning westward, along the coast of Paria, where Columbus
first actually saw the continent, and traversing the whole extent of the
Caribbean Sea, you might reach the shores of Honduras, where he again
touched the shores of the continent, and finished, amid the infirmities of
age, and the sufferings consequent upon a life of toil, hardship and
exposure, his great achievement of discovery, his career of usefulness and
glory.
Coming northward, toward the point whither we were then tending, and
rounding Cape Catoche into the Gulf of Mexico, you would behold the true
Eldorado which they all sought for, and which the brave Cortes afterwards
found--the golden mountains and golden cities of Anahuac. Northward still,
some two hundred leagues, the "Father of rivers" pours his mighty current
into the bosom of the Gulf, after watering and draining the richest and
broadest valleys in the world, and linking together, by its various and
extended branches, the mighty fraternity of republics, spread over the vast
territories of the North.
I pity the man, whoever he may be, and of whatever nation, who can visit
these islands, or traverse these seas, for the first time, without feeling
as if he were treading on enchanted ground. Every country, every sea has
its peculiar history, and its peculiar associations. There is much to
interest the heart, and inflame the imagination in the dark legends of the
Indian archipelago--in the classic memories and time-hallowed monuments of
the "Isles of Greece," and of the shores and bays, the mountains and
streams of all the countries bordering on the Mediterranean--in the
rock-bound coast of the North Sea--in the basaltic columns and gigantic
caverns of the Emerald Isle;--but they do not, in my view, either or all of
them, surpass, in the deep interest and moral grandeur of the associations
they awaken, the shores that then surrounded me--the American Isthmus, and
the American archipelago.
The American archipelago!--the Mediterranean of the Western World, with its
beautiful clusters of magnificent islands--why not call it, as Bradford
long ago suggested, THE COLUMBIAN SEA? Surely, if the Florentine merchant
has been permitted to rob the great Genoese discoverer of the honor of
conferring his own illustrious name upon the two vast continents, which his
genius and perseverance brought to light, while the whole world has quietly
sanctioned the larceny--we, who know the equity of his claims, and feel how
shamefully he has been abused, might at least do him the lardy justice to
affix his name, in perpetuo, to this sea, which, by universal
acknowledgment, he was the first to traverse and explore--the scene of his
glorious triumph over the narrow and ignorant prejudices of his day, as
well as of his romantic adventures, toils and sufferings.
What must have been the emotions of Columbus when he first traversed these
waters, and beheld these lovely islands! For, even now, with the mind
already prepared by the full and elaborate descriptions of geographers and
travellers, they are beheld by the voyager, for the first time, with
sensations of surprise and delight. The objects of wonder with which he and
his crew were surrounded--the variation of the compass, the regularity of
the winds, and other phenomena, of the existence of which they could not
possibly have been apprised, must have been truly exciting. Think of his
astonishment on landing, to find myriads of people, disposed to regard him
and his adventurous crew, as beings of a superior order, whom they were
almost ready to adore. And then, pray that the veil of oblivion may be
thrown over the fiendish requital which, in after years, succeeded this
hospitable reception.
It is any thing but agreeable to a generous heart, to witness or
contemplate the strivings of a noble mind, with the cares and anxieties of
life, having some magnificent project in view, but hindered from carrying
it forward, by the stern demand of a starving household, or the want of
that _golden_ lever, which, with or without a place to stand upon, has
power to move the world. With but few exceptions, it has ever been the
case, that men of genius have struggled with adversity,--
Have felt the influence of malignant star,
And waged with fortune an eternal war.
Fortune seldom smiles upon the sons of science. Rarely, indeed, does she
condescend to become the companion of genius. It was not until Columbus had
touched the master passion of his royal patrons, that he could induce them
to grant him assistance. When he had convinced the king of the great
pecuniary advantage to be derived to the crown from his enterprise, and the
queen of the vast accessions to the holy church, in bringing new
territories under her sway, and converting nations of heathen to the
Christian faith,--then, and not till then, did they consent to favor his
expedition. Absorbed with their one idea of planting the standards of
Castile and of the Cross on the marble palaces of the Alhambra, they had no
time to consider, no treasure to sustain, such magnificent schemes of
discovery. Should Columbus be succored, when Cervantes, suffered and
hungered for bread? Was it not the cold treatment Cervantes received, that
wrung from his subdued spirit the humiliating complaint, that "the greatest
advantage which princes possess above other men, is that of being attended
by servants as great as themselves?" But why should we seek out, dwell
upon, and hold up to the execration of the world, these instances of royal
littleness, injustice, and ingratitude, when the world is, and always has
been, full of such exhibitions of human nature? Was not Hylander compelled
to sell his notes on Dion Casseus for a _dinner_? Did not Camoens, the
solitary pride of Portugal,--he who after his death was honored by the
appellation of "_the great_,"--beg for bread? Has not a Tasso from the
depths of his poverty, besought his cat to assist him with the lustre of
her eyes, that he might pen his immortal verse? Yes,--and one simple story
would tell the fate of a Homer, Ariosto, Dryden, Spenser, Le Sage, Milton,
Sydenham, and a mighty host of others, who, after having spent their lives
in the cause of letters, and of human advancement and liberty, were
neglected by their countrymen, and suffered to die in obscurity, if not in
poverty and want!
The Columbian Sea! divided by the projecting peninsulas of Yucatan and
Florida, and the far-stretching walls of Cuba and Hispaniola, into two
great sections, the Caribbean Sea, and the Gulf of Mexico--how full of
interest, historical and romantic, how curious, how wonderful in many of
the phenomena it exhibits! Here is the inexhaustible fountain head of that
inexplicable mystery of nature, the Gulf Stream, which, without any visible
adequate supply, throws its mighty current of calid water, thousands of
miles across the cold Atlantic. Here European civilization, and European
depotism first planted its foot in the elysian fields of the west. Here the
dreadful work of subjugation, and extermination commenced a work, which, in
three brief centuries, under the banners, too, of the Prince of Peace, and
in the name of Christianity, has blotted from the face of the earth a
mighty family of populous nations, some of them far advanced in
civilization and refinement, leaving only here and there a scattered and
almost exhausted tribe, bending under the yoke of slavery, or flying before
the continual encroachments of the white man.
It is difficult to say to which quarter of this sea one should turn, in
order to gather up the incidents and associations, which shall most deeply
touch the heart, and excite the imagination. On the east, these beautiful,
luxuriant islands, the first seen and visited, where the great, the noble,
the generous-hearted discoverer was received as a god by the simple and
hospitable natives, and afterwards calumniated, oppressed, deserted by his
friends, and left by his envious foes to pine a whole year on the shores of
Jamaica, with no shelter but the wreck of his last vessel--where too he was
shamefully imprisoned, and then sent home in chains, deprived of his honors
and his rights. On the west, the golden regions of Mexico, where the
Montezumas reigned with a degree of splendor rivalling the most brilliant
dynasties of the Old World--where civilization, and the arts of refinement,
were enjoyed to a degree unknown to many of the most powerful nations of
antiquity--where pyramids, temples, and palaces, whose extent and
magnificence might have vied with those of Egypt and Syria, still remain in
ruins to attest the departed glory of the Aztec races--and where the
marvellous, the scarcely credible adventures of Cortes, and his little hand
of brave invaders, brought desolation and wo on all that sunny region. On
the south, the great continent, the scene of similar adventures--the
theatre of oppression, of civil discord, of revolution, of a perpetual
struggle for power, but, it may be hoped, ere long of republican liberty.
On the north--what shall I say--the fairest and best portion of the wide
earth--the home of liberty--the home of our fathers--in a word, which
contains a depth of meaning that belongs to no other in any language--home!
How wonderfully have these shores changed hands and masters, since the day
when Columbus gave them all to Spain. What has she now left? The entire
continent of South America, the golden regions of the Isthmus, the broad
savannahs of Florida, and the boundless prairies of the great west, have
all been wrested from her iron and oppressive rule. And, of all that rich
cluster of islands, that lie along the eastern boundary of this great
sea--only Cuba and Porto Rico now acknowledge her sway. How bitterly the
wrongs she inflicted upon the hapless natives of these fair lands, have
recoiled upon her own head, and upon the heads of all her representatives
in the New World. Scarcely for one moment have they held any of their
ill-gotten possessions in peace. Revolt and revolution have swept over them
in quick succession, like the Sirocco of the desert, burying millions of
merciless oppressors in the same graves with the millions of the oppressed.
Anarchy, confusion, bloodshed, and civil discord and commotion, have been
the lot of their inheritance. And even to this day, except in the islands
above named, wherever the Spanish race remains in the ascendancy, the seat
of its power is, as it were, the crater of a volcano, where society, no
less than the earth, heaves and groans and trembles with the throes of
inward convulsion. Look yonder, as we near the shores of Mexico. Clouds of
dust and smoke--the thunders of artillery, the falling of successive
dynasties, mingle with the terrible din of the earthquake, and the
sulphureous belchings of subterraneous fires, and send up their angry
shouts, and voices of wailing to the skies, till the whole civilized world
is disturbed by their incessant broils. How long shall it be? When shall
this land have rest? When shall the curse of war, which has been laid upon
it for so many centuries, be revoked? Heaven speed the day.
There are some features which have been noticed by voyagers, as peculiar to
these waters. Whether they do not belong to inland seas, and to bays and
gulfs generally, my personal observation does not enable me to determine.
The color of the water is a less decided blue than that of the ocean. This
phenomenon I am at a loss to explain, having always supposed that the color
of the sea was only the reflection of the azure depths of the sky, and
that, consequently, in the clear atmosphere, and the deep blue heavens, of
the tropics, it would show a deeper tinge of cerulean than elsewhere.
It is also remarked that there is seldom known here, the long equable
swell, and gentle undulation, of the open ocean, but a short pitchy sea,
which, in small craft, is very disagreeable, but is less noticeable in the
larger class of vessels. The gulf is subject to periodical calms in the
summer, and to violent gales from the north in the autumnal months. Of the
Chapote, an asphaltic ebullition on the surface of the sea, I shall speak
more fully in another place, in connection with a similar phenomenon
observed in the lakes of Mexico.
We arrived at Vera Cruz on the 15th of February. The voyage proved
agreeable--especially to those of our party who were subject to
sea-sickness, and who could therefore well appreciate their entire freedom
from the unpalatable, and often ludicrous effects produced by the
unceremonious movement of the waves, when uncontrolled by the irresistible
agency of steam. Indeed, we all felt strongly convinced, that steam
navigation is the _ne plus ultra_ of travelling at sea.
[Illustration: THE PEAK OF ORIZABA.]
Long before we made the land, the grand and lofty peak of Orizaba, with its
spotless mantle of eternal snow, rearing its hoary head seventeen thousand
feet above us, presented itself to our view. The highest ranges of the
Alleghanies, and the lofty summits of the Catskill, of my own country, were
familiar to my boyish days--but, I was little prepared to behold a scene
like this--a scene which caused the wonders of my childhood to dwindle
almost into nothing. Art, with all her charms, may, and often does,
disappoint us--but Nature, never. The conception of Him who laid the
foundations of the mountains, cannot be approached even by the most
aspiring flight of the imagination.
[Illustration: CASTLE OF SAN JUAN DE ULLOA.]
The first object that strikes the eye, in approaching Vera Cruz by water,
is the Castle of San Juan de Ulloa, with the spires and domes of the
churches peering up in the distance behind it. It stands alone, upon a
small rocky island, on one side of the main entrance to the harbor, and
only about half a mile from the wall of the city, and consequently has
complete command of the port. The entrance on the other side, is so barred
with broken reefs and ledges, that it can only be used by small craft in
favorable weather.
The Castle is circular, strongly built, and heavily mounted. Its principal
strength, however, is in its position, inaccessible except by water, and
its guns pointing every way, leave no side open to the attack of an enemy.
It has never been reduced but once, and then its natural ally, the city,
was against it. The sea was in the hands of its enemies, and all
communication with the outer world was cut off. It held out bravely while
its provisions lasted, and then yielded to famine, and not to arms. This
was in 1829, during the last dying struggles of Spain to hold on to her
revolted provinces in Central America.
Our pilot brought us to anchor in the harbor, or roadstead, under the walls
of this celebrated old castle, and within a few rods of the landing. An
unexpected visit from a "Norther," gave me an opportunity which would not
otherwise have presented itself, of paying my respects to the town.
"Vera Cruz Triunfante," the Heroic City, as it is styled in all public
documents, in consequence of the prowess of its citizens in taking the
Castle San Juan de Ulloa, which, as above stated, surrendered from
starvation, lies in a low, sandy shore; and, like all American Spanish
towns, has few attractions for the stranger, either in its general
appearance, or in the style of its architecture. The town is laid out with
great regularity. The streets are broad and straight, at right angles with
each other, and are well paved, which, unfortunately, is more than can be
said of many of the paved cities in the United States. The side-walks are
covered with cement, and are altogether superior to those of Havana. The
houses are generally well constructed to suit the climate. Many of them are
large, some three stories high, built in the old Spanish or Moorish style,
and generally enclosing a square courtyard, with covered galleries. They
have flat roofs, and parti-colored awnings, displaying beneath the latter a
profusion of flowers.
The best view of Tera Cruz is from the water. There are, within and outside
the walls, seventeen church establishments, the domes or cupolas of which
may be seen in approaching it from that direction, with quite an imposing
effect. The port is easy of access, but very insecure, being open to the
north, and consequently subject to the terrible "northers," which, in more
senses than one, during the winter season, prove a scourge to this coast.
It is well defended by a strong fort, situated on a rock of the island of
St. Juan de Ulloa, about half a mile distant. The name of this island, and
the castle upon it, are associated with some of the most terrible scenes of
blood and cruelty, that have given to the many revolutionary struggles of
that ill-fated country, an unenviable pre-eminence of horror.
The form of the city is semi-circular, fronting the sea. It is situated on
an arid plain, surrounded by sand hills, and is very badly supplied with
water,--the chief reliance being upon rain collected in cisterns, which are
often so poorly constructed as to answer but very little purpose. The chief
resource of the lower classes, is the water of a ditch, so impure as
frequently to occasion disease. An attempt was made, more than a century
ago, to remedy this evil, by the construction of a stone aqueduct from the
river Xamapa; but, unfortunately, after a very large sum had been expended
on the work, it was discovered that the engineer who projected it, had
committed a fatal mistake, in not ascertaining the true level, and the work
was abandoned in despair.
The outside of the city looks solitary and miserable enough. The ruins of
deserted dwelling houses, dilapidated public edifices, neglected
agriculture, and streets, once populous and busy, now still and overgrown
with weeds, give an air of melancholy to the scene, which it is absolutely
distressing to look upon, and which the drillings of the soldiery, and "all
the pomp and circumstance" of warlike parade, were insufficient to dispel.
The population of this place is now about six thousand. In 1842, two
thousand died of black vomit, the greater portion of whom were the poor,
half-enslaved Indians, brought from their healthy mountain homes, to serve
as soldiers on the deadly coast. This dreadful scourge made its appearance
on the continent of America, in 1699, where it was introduced by an English
ship from the coast of Africa, loaded with slaves; inflicting upon the
country, at the same instant, two of the greatest curses which the
arch-enemy of our race could have devised. The infectious disease we cannot
lay to the charge of England. It was one of those accidents which can only
be referred to the mysterious visitations of that all-wise, but inscrutable
providence, which rules over all the affairs of our little world. But for
the other, and not less hideous evil, the introduction of slavery, that
Government is directly responsible; and, however high and noble the
principles of benevolence, by which the present race of Englishmen are
actuated in their endeavors to procure universal emancipation, it ill
becomes them to reproach us, or our fathers, for the existence of a curse
among us, which their own government forced upon us, and their own fathers
supplied and sustained, with a zeal and perseverance worthy of a better
cause. Ages of penance and contrition, will not wipe out this dark stain
from the British escutcheon.
Vera Cruz is more subject to the yellow fever, than perhaps any other place
on the coast. This is chiefly owing to the filthy ditch before spoken of,
from which the lower classes are compelled to obtain a part of their supply
of water, and to the pools of stagnant water, which abound among the sand
hills in the vicinity. If these could be drained off, and the city supplied
with wholesome water, there can be no doubt it would fare as well in the
matter of health, as any other place on the coast, instead of being
regarded, as it is now, by the Spanish physicians, as the source and
fountain-head of yellow fever for the whole country. There is scarcely any
season of the year exempt from its ravages, but it prevails most in the
rainy season, particularly in September and October.
The history of Vera Cruz, as a place of importance to the Spaniards,
commences with the very first steps of the conquest. The name of San Juan
do Ulloa, was given to the island where the Castle now stands, by Grijalva,
on his pioneer visit to the place, in 1518, where he was so roughly handled
by the "natives." Cortes, after touching at Cozumel, made a landing at
this place, in 1519. He afterwards laid the foundation of a colony in the
vicinity, at the mouth of the river Antigua. It was from this point that he
set out on his adventurous march to the capital of the Aztec empire--an
adventure seemingly the most rash and ill advised, but in its results, the
most triumphant, in the annals of history.
The present site of Vera Cruz, which was founded by Count de Monterey, near
the close of the sixteenth century, and is sometimes, by way of
distinction, called Vera Cruz Nueva, is not the same as that of the ancient
city, planted by Cortes. That was situated fifteen miles to the north from
the city of our day, and was called "La Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz"--The
rich town of the true cross. The harbor of the old town is far better than
that of the new, which, in fact, is no harbor at all, but an open roadsted,
exposed to every blast from the north. No good reason has been assigned for
the removal. One historian has suggested that it was owing to the
unhealthiness of the old town. If so, it is no mean illustration of the
sagacity of the unfortunate fish, that, in attempting to escape his
inevitable fate, "jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire."