Kitabı oku: «The Spaniards in Florida», sayfa 10

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.