PALMA, ISLAND OF MAJORCA, _March 10, 1853_.
My last letter was from Barcelona. I was then preparing to visit this
island, and notwithstanding its proximity (it is only one hundred and
fifty miles distant) and its belonging to Spain, one has to go through
all the silly formalities of procuring a Spanish passport, with the
_visé?_ of the American Consul, and a certificate of health from the
_Casa de Sanidad_, which latter is a sure and easy mode of robbing the
traveller. I embarked on board of a small weekly steamer for Palma, the
capital city, on the south side of the island, situated upon a deep
bay, and having a good and secure harbor for large vessels, and a fair
trade with Havana. I was agreeably surprised in finding a city of forty
thousand persons, occupying a healthy and eligible position, with many
fine public buildings, some of which are very antique, denoting its
great commercial importance when it enjoyed the trade of the Levant.
By reference to my books I find that the Romans granted it the
privilege of a colony; it was afterwards conquered by the Arabs, who
made it the residence of their kings, and it continued such after the
conquest of Don Jayme the First, of Aragon, in the year 1229, and its
most extraordinary monument of that period, commenced during his reign,
is the citadel, upon the summit of a high hill, about one mile from
the city, commanding a most extensive view of the town and sea. In
the centre of it, passing over a deep and wide moat, by a drawbridge,
one enters a tower of Cyclopean construction, of great height, and by
easy circular stairs of heavy stone arrives at the summit, from which
the eye beholds one of the most magnificent prospects of the entire
valley and the suburbs of the city, dotted with cottages, and olive and
almond trees in blossom. From the prisons within there was no escape,
particularly from the lower one, where the culprit passes a final trap,
never to be withdrawn.
Some comfortable quarters are fitted up for the use of the governor
during the heat of summer. The polite and civil colonel of the
governor’s staff conducted me in his cabriolet with the aid of an extra
mule, nearly to the summit. I have received, by the by, many marks of
courtesy from the commandant of the marine as well as other Spanish
officers in Barcelona, to whom I was recommended, notwithstanding
that our national character has suffered through the acts of the
filibusters in the island of Cuba. The houses and the streets of the
city are clean, and the population industrious; the hotels are poor.
The chief branches of industry are those of the _zapateros_, or
shoemakers, whose work is exported to Havana, and the abundant supply
of olive oil for the manufactories in the suburbs, of the famous
castile soap. The exportation of wine, dried fruit, and almonds, is
also very considerable. The language of the country is the Mallorquin,
a _patois_ of the Arab, Spanish, and French languages; the common
people do not speak the Castilian. One of the finest estates is that
of the Conde de Monte Negro, about three hours’ drive from town.
The Cardinal Monte Negro, now deceased, while at Rome made a famous
collection of antique statues, and founded a museum on his estate,
which is surrounded by valleys of orange, almond, and olive trees, with
vineyards upon amphitheatred walled patches of earth extending up the
mountain side, and affording the most changeable and picturesque views
imaginable.
The little town of Soler, some five leagues distant, on the north side
of the island, with a population of eight thousand, is almost entirely
dependent upon the culture of the orange. The high mountain over which
one crosses is unproductive, but the valleys are extremely fertile,
and the scenery is varied. The roads are indifferent; their zigzag
windings and tropical views bring to mind the mountains of Caraccas,
and the heights of Brazil, and although I rode behind a mule, in a rude
sort of gig without springs, with low cover to protect me from the
sun’s rays, not sufficiently elevated to wear a hat, my driver perched
upon a rude box at the tail of the mule, with a cudgel in hand, now
yelling hideously expecting to increase his speed, then jumping down
in disgust at the obstinacy of the animal, and trudging along on foot,
I felt fully compensated by the magnificent prospect in the distance,
and a growing appetite for even a Spanish dinner, tinctured with oil
and garlic. My driver attempted to describe the objects about us in
Spanish, but finding himself embarrassed, he branched off in his own
jargon, presuming that I understood him perfectly.
I had ridden through orange groves on horseback in the West Indies,
plucking the fruit in passing, but I was not prepared for a league
square of orange trees loaded with their golden crop, the branches
extending over the walls, uniting and forming an arcade across the
narrow streets on entering the town. Soler is situated about two miles
from the port, along the banks of a mountain torrent, the sides of
which are strewed with fallen oranges.
This is the fruit season, and many small vessels are employed in
carrying cargoes to Marseilles, and other ports in France and Spain.
Those that are picked by hand and delivered on board, are worth
two rials vellon, say ten cents per hundred; such as fall from the
trees, detached by the wind, are worth the same price for _five
hundred_. I was struck with the fine faces of the children, and
the Arabic type and complexion of the women. The people are poor but
industrious, and their wants are few. They have bread, some meats,
_garabanzas_, a species of pea much in use, with oil and wine;
the latter, of the choicest quality, is called _malvoisia_, or
_alba flor_, and enjoys a high reputation in Barcelona. The little
port is round as a bowl, and placid as a lake, entirely protected,
and landlocked with high projecting cliffs above its narrow and bold
entrance, and bears resemblance in miniature to Acapulco, on the
Pacific coast. A few fishermen only reside there, and a few small
orange vessels are seen.
The peasants of the country are very primitive in their costume,
wearing broad-brimmed conical hats, and long pantaloons, girded about
the loins, with goat skins which cover their shoulders; holes are cut
in the side of the undressed hide to pass their arms through, and the
entire form of the reddish-brown skin, with the tail in some instances,
is suspended down the back, presenting a grotesque appearance. The
women wear men’s straw hats, with handkerchiefs round the head and
under the chin, and round, white, expanding collars, falling a foot in
length, with a priestly look, and the groups of both sexes on foot, and
mounted upon donkeys, carrying panniers loaded with charcoal, wood,
and products of the soil, form a droll caravan. Their copper coins
are about the size of small dress-coat button, and nine of them are
given for a rial vellon, valued at five cents; and singular as it may
appear, the people refuse the copper coin of the main land, while the
circulation of five franc pieces is current here, as also in Spain. The
old-fashioned pistareen, or peseta, is in general use. In most things
they are full a century behind the age, but the light of civilization
is beginning to extend here as on the main land. The climate is
delightful, nature prolific, and the people in general honest, civil,
and polite. I could prolong my stay with pleasure, visiting other
portions of the island, but I must not, as I proceed to Valencia, which
lies one hundred and fifty miles opposite, on the Spanish coast.