Port au Prince.
Having been at Port an Prince a sufficient time to make my usual
promenade of the city and its environs, you will expect a more
particular description of the place, than I have hitherto sent you. It
is a large town, built most unwisely, upon an ill-chosen spot, below a
range of white calcareous rocks, at the embouchure of an extensive
valley, and on the very edge of the water, at the extremity of a deep
bay of the sea, combining many great evils—such as receiving all the
filthy drainings of the valley, and exuviæ of the ocean, being shut from
the purifying sea-breeze, and exposed to the utmost ardour of the
condensed, and also the reflected rays of the sun.
In form, Port au Prince much resembles Kingston in Jamaica; the streets
being spacious and placed at right angles; but it is not so handsome a
town, the houses being small, and the shops fitted up with less
attention to neatness and decoration. As is common in the West Indies,
the houses are built of wood, and covered with shingles: in general they
consist of only a single story with piazzas in front; but these, like
those at Kingston, are so constructed as to drive the dissolving
pedestrian under the broad surface of a scorching sun, instead of
affording him the protecting shade which the climate renders so highly
needful.
Some of the streets are improved by a partial pavement; but the others
are deep in dust and sand. The upper part of the town is hilly, from
being extended along the side of the rock; but the lower part stands
near the water, upon a soil so loose and swampy, that it was necessary
to drive pillars of wood into the earth in order to form a secure
foundation for the buildings. Although it is very inferior to St. Pierre
or Kingston, Port au Prince has the advantage of several large squares;
also of open spaces, behind the houses, for out-offices, and, in many
instances, for small gardens.
The only edifice, offering any claim to particular notice, is the
government-house, which, although plain, is one of the handsomest, and
most substantial structures that I have seen in the West Indies. If not
a palace, it is a spacious and convenient dwelling, and well planned
with regard to the climate. It is a distinct building erected at the
upper end of a large square, commanding the grand parade and the streets
branching from thence into the town: the entrance is by a flight of
steps, leading into a wide piazza, which opens into a large
anti-chamber, connecting with the inner rooms. By this construction the
different apartments are well ventilated, and kept so pleasantly cool,
that the temperature of this house is found to be considerably below the
common standard of heat in the town.
At Port au Prince, as at St. Pierre, it is usual to have baths annexed
to the dwellings: bathing, in this climate, as well as in Europe, being
a comfort which is far better understood, and more generally adopted, by
the French, than by the English.
Notwithstanding the military throng now in this place, Port au Prince
has not the appearance of being so populous as St. Pierre. The same busy
commerce does not prevail; nor are the streets crowded with such hosts
of females, as were seen at the pleasant capital of Martinique. The
higher orders of the women of colour (for distinctions exist even among
the descendants of slaves) are neither so numerous, nor so handsome as
those of Martinique. They are also less dignified in their carriage, and
display less taste in the arts of the toilette; preserving more the air
of the same classes seen upon the streets of Kingston. In cleanliness of
person and apparel the women of Martinique have likewise greatly the
advantage; so that, after witnessing the style and fashion of St.
Pierre, all, in this place, seems humble and inelegant.
We had been taught to expect, that we should meet with a distressing
scarcity of fresh provisions at St. Domingo, having heard that our
comrades were paying so exorbitantly for them, as I mentioned to you
from the Mole; but we find that, owing to a tolerable supply having been
received by the American ships, this period of high extravagance has
passed away, and provisions, if not more plentiful, may be had at a rate
more reasonable than at Martinique.
Dr. Jackson and myself have a general invitation to the dinner-table of
the commander in chief and his staff. When we are not at the
government-house, we dine at a French table d’hôte in the town. The
tavern dinners are not in general so good, or so well served as at St.
Pierre, but we cannot complain of any deficiency in the supply, or of
any excess in the charge; for, in point of quantity, there is plenty;
and at half the expense which we had been accustomed to pay at
Martinique:—there, our dinners, with wine included, were four dollars
each person—here, we pay only two. At Jamaica, likewise, where plenty
abounds, the demand was higher than we find it here.
The French, both military and civil, practise a rude custom at the
public dinners, which is widely at variance with their boasted
politeness. It being usual to place the dessert, the wine, the cheese,
&c. upon the table, at the same time with the soup and the meat,
displaying at once, all the provisions of the banquet, the Frenchmen,
upon approaching the dinner-board, without waiting for the company to be
seated, greedily snatch up the fruit, and place it by them in readiness
to be eaten after they shall have dined. In like manner they seize a
quantity of food, from each of the best dishes, heaping the whole upon
their plates, to be afterwards devoured, as if they were afraid that the
fowls and other provisions should fly away, before they could swallow
their soup. This is a selfishness and want of good breeding, which John
Bull, with all his abruptness, would find it extremely difficult to
exhibit. A few days ago, seeing two fine melons, which were standing
near me, about to be carried off, before any person had commenced
eating, I took the liberty of laying an embargo upon the last piece, but
it was at the risk of being lamed, by having a fork struck through my
hand.
We find the St. Domingo breakfast exceedingly pleasant—various kinds of
fruits being served with the tea, chocolate and plantains. At the Mole
we had grapes and figs, every morning: at Port au Prince we have melons,
oranges, and avagata pears: the latter are of exquisite flavour. The
pear is large—its colour either green, or slightly purple. It is not
saccharine, like other fruits; the part used is a green pulp, formed
between the peel and a large stone in the centre. This pulp, when ripe,
is easily taken out with a tea-spoon, by cutting open the fruit, and
removing the stone, round which it is formed, without adhering to it.
Not unaptly, it has been said to resemble marrow, and has obtained the
name of Sir Hans Sloane’s “vegetable marrow:” but you will form a better
idea of its substance and flavour, by considering it to be like the
inner pulp of the large pea used in England, called marrowfat—a quantity
of this collected, free from the skins of the peas, and eaten with
pepper and salt, although very inferior to it, would be more like the
avagata pear than any other fruit or vegetable that is known in Europe.