The Spaniards in Florida

Trinity Episcopal Church was commenced in 1827, and consecrated in 1833, by Bishop Bowen, of South Carolina. The Presbyterian Church was built about 1830, and the Methodist chapel about 1846.

The venerable-looking building on the bay, at the corner of Green lane and Bay street, is considered the oldest building in the place, and has evidently been a fine building in its day. It was the residence of the attorney-general, in English times.

The monument on the public square was erected in 1812-13, upon the information of the adoption of the Spanish constitution, as a memorial of that event, in pursuance of a royal order to that effect, directed to the public authorities of all the provincial towns. Geronimo Alvarez was the Alcalde under whose direction it was erected. The plan of it was made by Sr. Hernandez, the father of the late General Hernandez. A short time after it was put up, the Spanish constitution having had a downfall, orders were issued by the government that all the monuments erected to the constitution throughout its dominions, should be demolished. The citizens of St. Augustine were unwilling to see their monument torn down; and with the passive acquiescence of the governor, the marble tablets inscribed Plaza de la Constitucion being removed, the monument itself was allowed to stand; and thus it remains to this day, the only monument in existence to commemorate the farce of the constitution of 1812. In 1818, the tablets were restored without objection.

The bridge and causeway are the work of the government of the United States. The present sea-wall was built between 1835 and 1842, by the United States, at an expense of one hundred thousand dollars.

CHAPTER XVIII.

PRESENT APPEARANCE OF ST. AUGUSTINE, AS GIVEN BY THE AUTHOR OF THANATOPSIS – ITS CLIMATE AND SALUBRITY

St. Augustine has now attained, for this side of the Atlantic, a period of most respectable antiquity. In a country like America, where States are ushered into existence in the full development of maturity, where large cities rise like magic from the rude forest, where the "oldest inhabitant" recollects the cutting down of the lofty elms which shadowed the wigwam of the red man, perchance on some spot now in the heart of a great city; an antiquity of three centuries would be esteemed as almost reaching back (compared with modern growth) to the days of the Pharaohs.

The larger number of early settlements were unsuitably located, and were forced to be abandoned on account of their unhealthiness; but the Spanish settlement at St. Augustine has remained for near three hundred years where it was originally planted; and the health of its inhabitants has, for this long period, given it a deserved reputation for salubrity and exemption from disease, attributable to locality or extraneous influences or causes.

The great age attained by its inhabitants was remarked by De Brahm; the number and healthfulness of the children that throng its streets, attract now, as they did then, the attention of strangers. This salubrity is easily accounted for, by the almost insular position of the city, upon a narrow neck of land nearly surrounded by salt water; the main shore, a high and healthy pine forest and sandy plains, so near the ocean as to be fanned by its constant breezes, and within the sound of its echoing waves; a situation combining more local advantages for salubrity could hardly be imagined. While it will never probably increase to any great extent in population, it will hardly be likely to decrease. Its health, easy means of support, unambitious class of inhabitants, with their strong attachments and family and local ties, will contribute to maintain St. Augustine as the time-honored ancient city, with its permanent population, and its visitors for health, for centuries perhaps yet to come.

I cannot perhaps better conclude these historic notices than by giving the impressions of the author of Thanatopsis,43 one whose poetic fame will endure as long as American literature exists. Writing from St. Augustine in April, 1843, he says:

"At length we emerged upon a shrubby plain, and finally came in sight of this oldest city of the United States, seated among its trees on a sandy swell of land, where it has stood for three hundred years. I was struck with its ancient and homely aspect, even at a distance, and could not help likening it to pictures which I had seen of Dutch towns, though it wanted a wind-mill or two to make the resemblance perfect. We drove into a green square, in the midst of which was a monument erected to commemorate the Spanish constitution of 1812, and thence through the narrow streets of the city to our hotel.

"I have called the streets narrow. In few places are they wide enough to allow two carriages to pass abreast. I was told that they were not originally intended for carriages; and that in the time when the town belonged to Spain, many of them were floored with an artificial stone, composed of shells and mortar, which in this climate takes and keeps the hardness of rock; and that no other vehicle than a hand-barrow was allowed to pass over them. In some places you see remnants of this ancient pavement; but for the most part it has been ground into dust under the wheels of the carts and carriages introduced by the new inhabitants. The old houses, built of a kind of stone which is seemingly a pure concretion of small shells, overhang the streets with their wooden balconies; and the gardens between the houses are fenced on the side of the street with high walls of stone. Peeping over these walls you see branches of the pomegranate, and of the orange-tree now fragrant with flowers, and rising yet higher, the leaning boughs of the fig with its broad luxuriant leaves. Occasionally you pass the ruins of houses – walls of stone with arches and stair-cases of the same material, which once belonged to stately dwellings. You meet in the streets with men of swarthy complexions and foreign physiognomy, and you hear them speaking to each other in a strange language. You are told that these are the remains of those who inhabited the country under the Spanish dominion, and that the dialect you have heard is that of the island of Minorca.

"'Twelve years ago,' said an acquaintance of mine, 'when I first visited St. Augustine, it was a fine old Spanish town. A large proportion of the houses which you now see roofed like barns, were then flat-roofed; they were all of shell rock, and these modern wooden buildings were then not erected. That old fort which they are now repairing, to fit it for receiving a garrison, was a sort of ruin, for the outworks had partly fallen, and it stood unoccupied by the military, a venerable monument of the Spanish dominion. But the orange-groves were the wealth and ornament of St. Augustine, and their produce maintained the inhabitants in comfort. Orange-trees of the size and height of the pear-tree, often rising higher than the roofs of the houses, embowered the town in perpetual verdure. They stood so close in the groves that they excluded the sun; and the atmosphere was at all times aromatic with their leaves and fruit, and in spring the fragrance of the flowers was almost oppressive.'

"The old fort of St. Mark, now called Fort Marion – a foolish change of name – is a noble work, frowning over the Mantanzas, which flows between St. Augustine and the island of Anastasia; and it is worth making a long journey to see. No record remains of its original construction; but it is supposed to have been erected about a hundred and fifty years since,44 and the shell rock of which it is built is dark with time. We saw where it had been struck with cannon balls, which, instead of splitting the rock, became imbedded and clogged among the loosened fragments of shell. This rock is therefore one of the best materials for fortification in the world. We were taken into the ancient prisons of the fort-dungeons, one of which was dimly lighted by a grated window, and another entirely without light; and by the flame of a torch we were shown the half obliterated inscriptions scrawled on the walls long ago by prisoners. But in another corner of the fort, we were taken to look at the secret cells, which were discovered a few years since in consequence of the sinking of the earth over a narrow apartment between them. These cells are deep under ground, vaulted over-head, and without windows. In one of them a wooden machine was found, which some supposed might have been a rack, and in the other a quantity of human bones. The doors of these cells had been walled up and concealed with stucco, before the fort passed into the hands of the Americans.

"You cannot be in St. Augustine a day without hearing some of its inhabitants speak of its agreeable climate. During the sixteen days of my residence here, the weather has certainly been as delightful as I could imagine. We have the temperature of early June as June is known in New York. The mornings are sometimes a little sultry; but after two or three hours a fresh breeze comes in from the sea sweeping through the broad piazzas, and breathing in at the windows. At this season it comes laden with the fragrance of the flowers of the Pride of India, and sometimes of the orange tree, and sometimes brings the scent of roses, now in bloom. The nights are gratefully cool; and I have been told by a person who has lived here many years, that there are very few nights in summer when you can sleep without a blanket.

"An acquaintance of mine, an invalid, who has tried various climates, and has kept up a kind of running fight with death for many years, retreating from country to country as he pursued, declares to me that the winter climate of St. Augustine is to be preferred to that of any part of Europe, even that of Sicily, and that it is better than the climate of the West Indies. He finds it genial and equable, at the same time that it is not enfeebling. The summer heats are prevented from being intense by the sea-breeze, of which I have spoken. I have looked over the work of Dr. Forry on the climate of the United States, and have been surprised to see the uniformity of climate which he ascribes to Key West. As appears by the observations he has collected, the seasons at that place glide into each other by the softest gradations; and the heat never, even in midsummer, reaches that extreme which is felt in the higher latitudes of the American continent. The climate of Florida is, in fact, an insular climate: the Atlantic on the east, and the Gulf of Mexico on the west, temper the airs that blow over it, making them cooler in summer and warmer in winter. I do not wonder, therefore, that it is so much the resort of invalids; it would be more so if the softness of its atmosphere, and the beauty and serenity of its seasons were generally known. Nor should it be supposed that accommodations for persons in delicate health are wanting; they are, in fact, becoming better with every year, as the demand for them increases. Among the acquaintances whom I have made here, I remember many who having come hither for the benefit of their health, are detained for life by the amenity of the climate. 'It seems to me,' said an intelligent gentleman of this class, the other day, 'as if I could not exist out of Florida. When I go to the north, I feel most sensibly the severe extremes of the weather; the climate of Charleston itself appears harsh to me.'

"The negroes of St. Augustine are a good-looking specimen of the race, and have the appearance of being very well treated. You rarely see a negro in ragged clothing; and the colored children, though slaves, are often dressed with great neatness. In the colored people whom I saw in the Catholic church, I remarked a more agreeable, open, and gentle physiognomy than I have been accustomed to see in that class.

"Some old customs which the Minorcans brought with them from their native country, are still kept up. On the evening before Easter Sunday, about eleven o'clock, I heard the sound of a serenade in the streets. Going out, I found a party of young men with instruments of music, grouped about the window of one of the dwellings, singing a hymn in honor of the Virgin,45 in the Mahonese dialect. They began, as I was told, with tapping on the shutter. An answering knock within had told them that their visit was welcome, and they immediately began the serenade. If no reply had been heard, they would have passed on to another dwelling. I give the hymn as it was kindly taken down for me in writing, by a native of St. Augustine. I presume this is the first time that it has been put in print; but I fear the copy has several corruptions, occasioned by the unskillfulness of the copyist. The letter e, which I have put in italics, represents the guttural French e, or, perhaps, more nearly the sound of the u in the word but. The sh of our language is represented by sc followed by an i or an e; the g, both hard and soft, has the same sound as in our language.

"'Disciarem lu dolCantarem aub' alagriaY n'arem a daLas pascuas a MariaO Maria!"'Sant Grabiel,Qui portaba la ambasciadoDes nostro rey del cel,Estaran vos prenadaYa omitiadaTu o vais aqui surventaFia del Dieu contentaPara fe lo que el volDisciarem lu dol, &c."'Y a milla nitPariguero vos reginaA un Dieu infinit,Dintra una establina.Y a milla dia,Que los angles von cantantPau y abondantDe la gloria de Dieu solDisciarem lu dol, &c."'Y a Libalam,Alla la terra santaNus nat JesusAub' alagria tantaInfant petitQue tot lu mon salvariaY ningu y bastariaNu mes un Dieu tot sulDisciarem lu dol, &c."'Cuant de Orion lusTres reys la stralla veranDieu omnipotentAdora lo vingaranUn present inferanDe mil encens y orA lu beneit senoQue conesce cual se volDisciarem lu dol, &c."'Tot fu gayantPara cumple la prumasY lu Esperit santDe un angel fau gramasGran foc ences,Que crama lu curagiaDieu nos da lenguagiaPara fe lo que Dieu volDisciarem lu dol, &c."'Cuant trespasaDe quest mon nostra SenoraAl cel s' empugiaSun fil la matescia oraO! EmperadoraQue del cel san eligidaLu rosa floridaMe resplenden que un solDisciarem lu dol, &c."'Y el tercer giornQue Jesus resuntaDieu y AboromaQue la mort triumfaDe alli se ballaPara perldra LucifeAn tot a sen pendaQue de nostro ser el solDisciarem lu dol, &c.

"After this hymn, the following stanzas, soliciting the customary gift of cakes or eggs, are sung: —

"'Ce set que vam cantant,Regina celestial!Damos pan y alagriaY bonas festas tinganY vos da sus bonas festasDanos dines de sus nousSempre tarem lus neans UestasPara recibi un grapat de nes,Y el giorn de pascua floridaAlagramos y giuntamentAs qui es mort par dar nos vidaY via glorosiamente,A questa casa esta empedradaBien halla que la empedro;San amo de aquesta casaBaldria duna un doFormagiado o empanadaCucutta a flao;Cual se val casa rue grada,Sol que no rue digas que no.'

"The shutters are then opened by the people within, and a supply of cheese, cakes or other pastry, or eggs, is dropped into a bag carried by one of the party; who acknowledge the gift in the following lines, and then depart: —

"'Aquesta casa reta empedradaEmpedrada de cuatro vens;Sun amo de aquesta casaEs omo de compliment.'

"If nothing is given, the last line reads thus: —

"'No es homo de compliment.'"

CHAPTER XIX.

ST. AUGUSTINE IN ITS OLD AGE. – 1565-1868

Three hundred and three years have now passed over the walls of this venerable city. Ten generations of men and women have passed away since this ancient city had an existence and a name. One can look back to 1565 and picture to the mind the galleons of Spain anchored off its harbor; see the gallant Adelantado Menendez, clad in mail, preceded by the standards of Spain, and followed by his men at arms, his bowmen and his cavaliers, taking possession of the country in the name of his sovereign. The waves roll in upon the same shores now as they did then; the green, grassy marshes and oyster-clad banks present to our eyes the same appearance as they did to theirs; the white sandy beach which received the impress of the iron-clad heel of the cavalier, now yields to the pressure of your foot; the rustling pines along the shore cast their pleasant shadows over you as they did over them, and perchance the same eager thoughts of gain pervade your breast as you pass beneath them, as filled the hearts and souls of those who long ago came seeking gold and wealth unmeasured upon those shores.

Three hundred years ago, and St. Augustine stood the solitary settlement of the white race north of the Gulf of Mexico in all that great expanse which now boasts of its thirty-four States, its three hundred cities, and its thirty millions of people.

Then the Province of Florida extended northward to the pole, and westward to the Pacific. At a later period, after the voyages of the French and English, its boundaries were limited to the shores of the Chesapeake and the Mississippi river, and were subsequently gradually contracted to their present limits, so that Florida once represented upon the maps all of the United States.

The life of St. Augustine runs parallel with that of Spain. For a long period Spain was at the head of European monarchies; its rulers held sway over more vast possessions than had ever belonged to any single crown since the days of the Cæsars; wealth flowed into its coffers from the New World in boundless profusion, and corruption, venality and effeminacy followed in its train. The whole continent of America was claimed as its dominion. Its fleets anchored upon every shore for conquest or exploration, and its banners were unfurled by its generals, and the cross was planted by its priests, upon every headland. From all this grandeur and eminence the Spanish monarchy has been cast down. Driven from land to land, it has receded from the main land of America, and has exchanged its dominion over a continent to the islands of the sea, which it holds with a precarious grasp, and it now remains in a dry old age a fourth-rate power where once it stood foremost. The first planted of all the cities of the United States, St. Augustine, now ranks among the least.

Ten years have been added to the longevity of the ancient city since the first publication of this work. Ten years do not make their mark upon the aged man as they do upon the youth launching forth into manhood, or as they do upon him who in the full measure of his matured strength is battling with life. On the nation at large, these ten years have left almost ineffaceable scars and bruises; ten years, the most important, the weightiest and the gravest of any since the throes of the great revolution which gave birth to the nation. This long sad period has left no mark upon its walls – grey and mouldy with the weight of years, and have scarcely added a tinge the more of age and sorrow – and yet the inner life of the old city has sustained a great shock. The system of servitude, which has now been swept away, was the sole dependence of many aged persons, of many poor widows and orphan children.

Servants in St. Augustine were treated with paternal kindness; they had grown up in the family of the indulgent master, had been his play-mate in infancy, and rendered willing service. They had their holidays and their balls, and were ever found in the background at all festive gatherings, enjoying, upon a privileged footing, the pleasures of the hour, looking on and commenting with pride upon the graceful movements in the dance of their young mistresses, and anon whirling each other around to the music, in the corridors, with the unrestrained exuberance of their simple and unalloyed happiness. All this has passed away, their homes are broken up, the poor widow and the orphan children have been brought to want, the sound of music and dancing no longer resound in the old streets, the privileged house-maid and man-servant no longer do their easy tasks with cheerful song and merry laugh.

The naval forces of the United States took possession of St. Augustine in 1862. Batteries had been mounted at the fort, and a small garrison of Confederate troops were in military occupation of the place, but too few in numbers to offer any resistance, and the city was surrendered by the civil authorities upon the demand of Captain Dupont. The 4th New Hampshire regiment first garrisoned the city. The old fort was brushed up and repaired, the earth-works strengthened, and barracks built on the platform. Occasionally reconnoitering parties of Confederates approached the town, and on one occasion a festive party of officers, who had gone out to Mr. Solanas, near Picolata, to attend a dance, were captured, with their music and ambulance, by Captain Dickinson, celebrated for many daring exploits. It was even believed that this daring partisan had ridden through the city at night in the guise of a Federal cavalry officer. On another occasion, the commanding officer of the garrison at St. Augustine was captured on the road from Jacksonville by a Confederate picket.

The inhabitants, isolated from all means of obtaining supplies from without the lines, were reduced to great straits. The only condition upon which they were allowed to purchase, was the acceptance of an oath of loyalty. Sympathizing strongly with the South, they were placed in an unfortunate position, and many doubtless suffered greatly. At one period, those of the citizens who had relatives in the Confederate service were ordered to leave the city. Then ensued a scene which beggars description. Men, women and children were huddled on board a vessel, and, homeless and helpless, were carried along the coast and disembarked, shelterless, on the banks of the Nassau river, to make their way to food and shelter as best they could – hardships which hardly seemed called for by any military necessity. Many of the young men of the city went into the Confederate service and served through the war with distinction, but many fell victims on the battlefield, in the hospitals, or from exposure to the rigorous climate of Virginia and Tennessee, to which they were unaccustomed.

To these misfortunes succeeded to all, sales and forcible deprivation of property, under the most rigorous construction of most rigorous laws – the unsettling of titles and the loss of mean have combined to lessen the ability of the people to do more than try to live, without much effort to improve their homes and the appearance of the city.

Some changes have taken place in the suburbs of the city. Macariz, the site of the old Indian town, belonging to the late Judge Douglas, with its beautiful groves of forest trees, has been utterly destroyed; and a once pleasant cottage home, near the stockades, dear to the writer, cared for and embellished with many things pleasant to the eye, fragrant with the ever blooming roses and honeysuckles, has, under the rude hand of war, been utterly destroyed, with its library, its furniture, and all its pleasant surroundings.

But while man's work has been to destroy, Nature has done much within these few years to restore one of its former sources of prosperity, the cultivation of the orange, which, having been at one period almost utterly destroyed by the cold, and then by the coccus insect, is now fast regaining its pristine vigor and productiveness, and promises in a few years to furnish to the city more permanent and abundant sources of prosperity than it has ever had.

With the infusion of Northern energy and capital, much could be done to further the prosperity of the old city, by building up first-class hotels and boarding-houses for visitors during the winter, by rebuilding the Picolata railway, thus facilitating access to the city, and thus a means of support could be given to its inhabitants.

I am sure that no one will feel otherwise than that its old age shall be tranquil and serene, and that its name may ever be associated with pleasant memories.

1

The fountain of youth is a very ancient fable; and the reader will be reminded of the amusing story of the accomplishment of this miracle, told in Hawthorne's Twice-Told Tales, and of the marvelous effects produced by imbibing this celebrated spring water.

2

Barcia Ensayo, Cron. 66.

3

The galleon spoken of was Menendez's own flag ship, the El Pelayo, the largest vessel in his fleet, fitted out at his own expense, and which had brought four hundred men. He had put on board of her a lieutenant and some soldiers, besides fifteen Lutherans as prisoners, whom he was sending home to the Inquisition at Seville. The orders to his officers were to go as speedily as possible to the island of Hispaniola, to bring provisions and additional forces. Upon the passage, the Lutheran prisoners, with some Levantine sailors, rose upon the Spaniards, killed the commander, and carried the vessel into Denmark. Menendez was much chagrined when he ascertained the fate of his favorite galleon, a long period afterwards.